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UBC Theses and Dissertations

Historical perspectives on foundations of western childhood Smith, David Geoffrey 1978

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'HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVES ON FOUNDATIONS OF WESTERN CHILDHOOD by DAVID GEOFFREY SMITH B.A. University of British Columbia, 1967 B.D. Queen's University, (Kingston), 1971 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS I n THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES (Centre for the Study of Curriculum and Instruction) We accept this thesis as conforming to the required standard University of British Columbia September 1978 0 David Geoffrey Smith, ]978 In presenting th i s thes is in pa r t i a l fu l f i lment of the requirements for an advanced degree at the Univers i ty of B r i t i s h Columbia, I agree that the L ibrary sha l l make it f ree ly ava i lab le for reference and study. I fur ther agree that permission for extensive copying of th is thesis for scho lar ly purposes may be granted by the Head of my Department or by his representat ives. It is understood that copying or pub l i ca t ion of th is thesis for f inanc ia l gain sha l l not be allowed without my writ ten permission. Department ;* OuXU -jf tU Stu*Cf »f C«.r<,'c^C^~ The Univers i ty of B r i t i s h Columbia 2075 Wesbrook Place Vancouver, Canada V6T 1W5 Date / 3<f>t-i ABSTRACT Whenever adults speak about children or make plans for them, their actions are based largely on assumptions about what constitutes the nature of a child and what a child's place in society i s . Often forgotten is the fact that these assumptions are shaped by both time and circumstance, and have gone through considerable change i n the history of the western world. This thesis attempts to provide a .broad background out of which teachers, curriculum developers, and those i n -volved i n * child study' can reflect upon their assumptions about child-hood. While the approach i s primarily hi s t o r i c a l , the work i s not meant to be a chronological tracing so much as a highlighting of themes in history thought to have a bearing on current debates. In general, the themes include such matters as child sacrifice, infanticide, and aspects of child rearing practice prior to the Renaissance, as well as views of the child emerging from debates about human nature discussed through the intellectual formulations of Renaissance humanism, the Reformation, the Enlightenment and the rise of Science. In 'antiquity', infanticide, child sacrifice, and the ex-posure of infants were often related to concerns about property and an assumption that children and adults somehow shared different natures. The writings of the Church Fathers, particularly concerning baptism, witnessed a movement stressing the existential equality of old and young. The humanist revival beginning in the late Middle Ages saw a powerful linking of ancient cl a s s i c a l education with religious piety, such that the child became increasingly an object of pedagogical concern. For the humanists, education would mean an enriched awareness of providential design as well as a more c i v i l i z e d society. For the reformers the ultimate lesson for the child was to understand man's utter dependence on divine graciousness. As such, reformation views of the child often became overlaid with strong moral intent. With the Enlightenment and the ri s e of Science came a gradual demystification and secularization of human endeavour such that dis-cussions of man's nature and destiny were carried on without the former classi c a l and theological referents, those being replaced with a concern for natural law, rationalism and the i n e v i t a b i l i t y of human progress. Within this context, childhood was viewed as a time of construction (Locke) and/or a time of natural innocence (Rousseau). Beginning with Darwin, a definite ' s c i e n t i f i c ' value i s assigned to childhood whereby as an isolable entity the child becomes an object f i t for empirical study. Within the modern context, studies of childhood suffer from narrowness of methodological vision. What i s called for i s a more h o l i s t i c understanding of human l i f e . "...today we see l i f e chiefly as a biological phenomenon, as a situation in society. Yet we say 'Such i s l i f e ! ' to express at once our re-signation and our conviction that there i s outside biology and sociology, something which has no name, but which s t i r s us, which we look for i n the news items of the papers or about which we say: 'That's l i f e l i k e . ' " * Philippe Aries, Centuries of Childhood. R. Baldick t r . New York, Vintage Books, 1962, p. 23. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS The author would l i k e to thank h i s graduate advisor, Dr. Ted Aoki, f o r encouragement and general assistance received over the past two years. He r e f l e c t e d the mystic a r t of combining openness with i n t e g r i t y . Thanks are due, too, to Dr. Jorgen Dahlie and Dr. N e i l Sutherland f o r t h e i r membership on the thesis committee and t h e i r h e l p f u l comments and suggestions. Special debt i s owed to Dr. George Tomkins f o r f u l -f i l l i n g the r o l e of thesis committee chairman i n the course of Dr. Aoki's absence. Without the typing s k i l l of Mrs. E l l e n Moore, t h i s p r o j e c t could not have been completed. TABLE OF CONTENTS Chapter Page One INTRODUCTION 1 Two ANTIQUITY AND MIDDLE AGES 4 Three RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION 28 Four RATIONALISM, ROMANTICISM AND SCIENCE 47 Five THE MODERN CONTEXT 74 Six CONCLUSION . 78 BIBLIOGRAPHY 81 APPENDIX A Bi b l i o g r a p h i c P r o f i l e of Studies of Western Childhood 87 \ Chapter One INTRODUCTION Whenever teachers, curriculum developers, or those involved i n c h i l d study are engaged i n r e l a t i o n s with chi l d r e n , they are often faced with s i t u a t i o n s which depend upon assumptions held concerning the nature of the c h i l d and h i s place i n society. For example, s t o r i e s that are read by students and teachers i n the classroom often depict a d u l t - c h i l d r e l a t i o n s that are s t y l i z e d i n a very s p e c i f i c way. S i m i l a r l y , Teachers' Guides . may make statements about 'what a c h i l d i s ' from which teachers are encouraged to plan and construct t h e i r lessons. This thesis i s an attempt to reveal how views about c h i l d r e n have varied i n the course of Western h i s t o r y , and to provide a back-ground from which those involved with c h i l d r e n can r e f l e c t upon t h e i r assumptions. The method w i l l be to h i g h l i g h t various themes i n the h i s t o r y of childhood s t i l l of concern today, 1 such as ' c h i l d abuse', chi l d r e n and education, and some foundations of c h i l d 'psychology.' The purpose has not been to write a d e f i n i t i v e h i s t o r y , and the themes are not traced consistently from beginning to end. Rather, the i n t e r e s t has been to reveal current concerns i n t h e i r more o r i g i n a l contexts. Within the body of the thesis some s h i f t s i n method w i l l be evident. In Chapter Two, emphasis i s placed on the p r a c t i c a l issues 1 2 of c h i l d rearing habits, l e g a l statutes, etc., rather than on broader p h i l o s o p h i c a l and s o c i a l issues. There are two reasons for t h i s . F i r s t l y , within the l a s t several years much new research has been aimed gt'ferreting out t h i s ' p r a c t i c a l ' s o r t of information and i t seems appropriate to give i t even more l i g h t of day. Secondly, there may be a sense i n which the forces which have served most powerfully to shape the conceptual bases of modern views of childhood begin l a r g e l y with the Renaissance. Hence i n t e l l e c t u a l h i s t o r y i s l e f t mainly u n t i l Chapters Three and Four. In the former, childhood i s discussed from the context of the tension between the humanists' and reformers' under-standing of human nature. In Chapter Five the roots of the Enlighten-ment and the New Science are traced, providing a background from which to understand some of the formulations of thinkers l i k e Locke and Rousseau, and the r i s e of ' c h i l d psychology.' The study e s s e n t i a l l y ends with the opening of the twentieth century, Chapter Six discussing only b r i e f l y some of the methodological or i n t e r p r e t i v e l i m i t a t i o n s with which modern studies of childhood have had to contend. Since the nineteenth century, the West (particu-l a r l y North America) has seen a burgeoning of s c h o l a r l y work i n the f i e l d of c h i l d study, generated through a l l the major s o c i a l science and humanities d i s c i p l i n e s . I t i s outside the scope of t h i s thesis to assess c r i t i c a l l y a l l of t h i s l i t e r a t u r e . In the Appendix, a B i b l i o -graphic P r o f i l e of some of the material has been compiled f o r future use. FOOTNOTE For a 'Bibliographic P r o f i l e ' of some of the l i t e r a t u r e subject, see the Appendix to t h i s t h e s i s . Chapter Two ANTIQUITY AND MIDDLE AGES Some of the e a r l i e s t records r e f e r r i n g to c h i l d r e n come from the Near East, i n the area between the T i g r i s and Euphrates Rivers. In-s c r i p t i o n s from the fourth m i l l e n i a l period B.C. t e s t i f y to pr a c t i c e s of both i n f a n t i c i d e , p a r t i c u l a r l y the s a c r i f i c e of the f i r s t born, as well as to the l e g a l r i g h t of parents to s e l l t h e i r c h i l d r e n , e i t h e r f o r s a c r i -f i c e or to a l l e v i a t e economic oppression. 1 I t was i n December, 1901, that M. J. de Morgan, Director-General of a government appointed French expedi-t i o n , found i n the area of Susa a b a s - r e l i e f showing the sun-god, Shamash, presenting the Code of Laws to Hammurabi, the f i r s t king to consolidate the Semitic empire, with Babylon as c a p i t a l . This code shows many s i m i l a r i t i e s with much of the l a t e r Mosaic l e g i s l a t i o n , and i s dated about 12250 B.C. The Code contains' i n a serie s c a l l e d ana i t t i s u , laws p e r t a i n i n g to c h i l d 2 and family r e l a t i o n s : (i) I f a son says to his father, 'Thou a r t not my father,' he may shave him, put the slave-mark on him and s e l l him. ( i i ) I f a son says':to his mother, 'Thou a r t not my mother,' they s h a l l shave h a l f his head and lead him round the c i t y and put him out of the house. ( i i i ) I f a father says to his son, 'Thou a r t not my son,' he f o r f e i t s house and wal l . (iv) I f a mother says to her son, "Thou a r t not my son,' she f o r f e i t s house and f u r n i t u r e . Some observations can be made from these statutes. Apart from the obvious absence of the female c h i l d as a concern f o r l e g i s l a t i o n , one c l e a r fea-ture i s a general intolerance of youthful r e b e l l i o n v i s a v i s parents. 4 5 The thrust of the statutes i s to protect the s t a b i l i t y of the adult world—an a t t i t u d e r e f l e c t e d i n the f i f t h commandment of the S i n a i t i c Code (see Exodus XX:13). No attempt i s made to i n t e r p r e t youthful re-b e l l i o n as a murmuring of some new o n t o l o g i c a l v i s i o n . Another c h a r a c t e r i s t i c i s the close association of the c h i l d with property. Not only does the c h i l d ' s r i g h t to property depend on the s t a b i l i t y of the father-son r e l a t i o n s h i p , but the very d e f i n i t i o n of the c h i l d ' s status as son depends on that s t a b i l i t y . Indeed, i f the c h i l d (son) disowns h i s father, he (the child) becomes himself property to be sold. I n t e r e s t i n g l y , the mother's power over the son i s more li m i t e d : i n f a c t i f she disowns the son, she i s the one who loses property. The ease with which c h i l d r e n could be disowned i n e v i t a b l y con-t r i b u t e d to numerous homeless 'foundling' c h i l d r e n and those 'exposed' to die. Later Roman law repeatedly attempted l e g i s l a t i o n aimed at giv-3 ing men and women incentive to adopt and protect deserted i n f a n t s . The study of i n f a n t i c i d e expressed through p r a c t i c e s of c h i l d s a c r i f i c e i s an i n t e r e s t i n g one i n i t s e l f , and several important 4 works have dealt with i t i n some d e t a i l . Among d i f f e r e n t groups, various circumstances were regarded as s u f f i c i e n t reason f o r i n f a n t i -c i d e — d e f o r m i t y , the b i r t h of twins, poor economic conditions, and a sense of human acc o u n t a b i l i t y to the d i e t i e s . A discussion of c h i l d - s a c r i f i c e , p a r t i c u l a r l y of the f i r s t -born, leads n a t u r a l l y to an examination of the b e l i e f s and pr a c t i c e s of a small Semitic group—the I s r a e l i t e s — w h o s e importance to the heritage of the Western world needs l i t t l e defense. According to the writings of the Hexateuch,* i n the time of Abraham, the eponymic father of the I s r a e l i t e s , the s a c r i f i c i n g of the f i r s t - b o r n of a l i v i n g t h i n g — i n c l u d i n g children—was s t i l l p r a c t i c e d . I t i s i n t e r e s t i n g to note that with Abraham the divine command to s a c r i -f i c e h i s son, while p a i n f u l , was apparently not su r p r i s i n g (see Genesis XXII). He went about the execution i n a businesslike way only to f i n d that when he was about to complete the action, the Lord was s a t i s f i e d with h i s d i s p l a y of f a i t h f u l n e s s and did not intend the command to be ca r r i e d out. I t has been argued that t h i s was the f i r s t case of sub-s t i t u t i o n , i n which the writer t e s t i f i e s that not only was the su b s t i t u -t i o n s a t i s f a c t o r y to the deity but that human s a c r i f i c e was henceforth 5 halted by divine decree. The e f f i c a c y of the substitutionary animal s a c r i f i c e was to be enhanced through human blood wrought from circum-c i s i o n (Genesis, XVII:10). From t h i s time on, however, the s a c r i f i c e of the c h i l d was no longer deemed necessary to insure the covenant be-tween the people of I s r a e l and the deity. I t i s important to bear i n mind the uniqueness of t h i s stance i n r e l a t i o n to surrounding nations and t r i b e s . In Egypt, f o r example, the p o l i t i c a l l y dominant nation, the p r a c t i c e of slaughtering the f i r s t -born was continued. At the same time, the f i d e l i t y of the I s r a e l i t e s to t h e i r own commitment was not always consistent (see for example Judges IX). The l a t e r prophets were con t i n u a l l y reminding those i n . . 7 c i v i l authority of t h e i r more 'humanitarian' c a l l i n g . *The f i r s t s i x books of the Old Testament dated approximately 800 B.C. 7 The h i s t o r y of childhood i n the Greek and Roman period has 8 yet to be written i n d e t a i l although glimpses can be gained from the works of the major l e g a l , p h i l o s o p h i c a l and a r t i s t i c writers of the time. As f a r as the Greeks were concerned, whenever a colony flo u r i s h e d , a story existed of the i n f a n t exposure of some god or hero. Payne sug-gests that Greek mythology had, as one of i t s foundations, the r i g h t of the parent to r e j e c t i t s o f f s p r i n g . The Dorians of Crete, for example, pic t u r e d Jove as a v i c t i m of t h i s p r a c t i c e , and as being suckled by a goat, then hidden i n a deep cave i n the densely wooded Aegean hills."'""'' Some evidence suggests that Plato not only regarded i n f a n t i -cide as i n e v i t a b l e but even unobjectionable. As he makes Socrates say i n the Thaetetus: Then t h i s c h i l d , however he may turn out, which you arid I have with d i f f i c u l t y brought into the world. And now that he i s born, we must run around the hearth with him, and see whether he i s worth rearing, or i s only a wind-egg and a sham. Is he to be reared i n any case, and not exposed? Or w i l l you bear to see him rejected, and not get into a passion i f I take away your f i r s t - b o r n ? ^ In another segment of the same work, Socrates j u s t i f i e s c h i l d welfare, not i n moral terms, but simply i n terms of material possession and personal recognition: Are you not r i s k i n g the greatest of your posses-sions? For c h i l d r e n are your riches; and upon t h e i r turning out well or i l l depends the whole order of t h e i r father's house.1° In common with many c i v i l i z a t i o n s , f o r the e a r l y Greeks the female c h i l d was of secondary importance. The son alone was regarded 8 as the perpetuator of the race; the g i r l an expense to endure t i l l her marriage. Posidippus noted the r u l e of thumb adopted by many Athenians: The son i s brought up even i f one i s poor: ^ the daughter i s exposed, even i f one i s r i c h . The h i s t o r y of childhood i n the era of Roman ascendency con-tains some i n t e r e s t i n g perceptual s h i f t s . By today's standards, Roman treatment of c h i l d r e n i n the e a r l y centuries might be regarded as s i n g u l a r l y lacking i n humanity, although a f t e r the fourth century the o f f i c i a l and formal expectations seem 'gentler' due, at l e a s t i n some measure, to the influence of C h r i s t i a n i t y and the writings of the 12 Church Fathers. The primary concern of the founders of the Republic was for a sense of national strength and i d e n t i t y developed through the good health and p h y s i c a l condition of the young male population. The need fo r a strong army resulted i n a pledge recorded i n the I n s t i t u t e s of J u s t i n i a n f or a l l males to be reared and nurtured except those who 13 were lame or deformed from b i r t h . The power of the Roman father over the l i v e s of h i s ch i l d r e n cannot be overemphasized. This was embodied i n the l e g i s l a t i o n known as the p a t r i a potestes which remained throughout the era the c e n t r a l i n s t i t u t i o n of law concerning parents and c h i l d r e n . Schulz states that the p a t r i a potestes was regarded as 14 a "palladium of Romanism," but that i t s sacrosanct nature contributed to an e s s e n t i a l conservatism i n c h i l d - a d u l t r e l a t i o n s and eventually 9 l e d to abuses l a t e r to outrage those leaders nurtured to a new humani-15 t a r i a n consciousness. Under the laws of the p a t r i a potestes, the father had the power to s e l l h i s c h i l d r e n , mutilate them, and even k i l l them. I t was a power that extended through the e n t i r e l i f e of the c h i l d , even into adulthood, and even i f the o f f s p r i n g had gained high honour i n the state. The c h i l d could be released only by s p e c i a l act. The status of the c h i l d i n the family was a c t u a l l y s i m i l a r to that of a slave, and the father was to be revered by h i s c h i l d r e n almost as a god. Shakespeare, following Cicero's statement i n Pro Plancio, has 16 Theseus say i n Midsummer Night's Dream: What say you Hermia? be advised, f a i r maid, To you, your father should be as a god; One that composed your beauties, yea, and one To whom you are but as a form of wax By him imprinted, and within h i s w i l l To leave the f i g u r e or d i s f i g u r e i t . The l o y a l t y of c h i l d to parent, then, was based on the be-l i e f that the c h i l d was u t t e r l y dependent on h i s progenitor, not only for property and inheritance purposes, but for h i s very nature. This sense of control was not unique to Roman society, with traces to be found i n H e l l e n i c , G a l l i c and Germanic law. What i s s u r p r i s i n g , how-ever, i s that i t was preserved (with s l i g h t revision) i n the c l a s s i c a l era i n spite of growing humanistic movements. As Schulz argues, the basic conservatism of the Romans i s not a s u f f i c i e n t explanation for the phenomenon. Rather, i t was the true Roman f e e l i n g for authority and d i s c i p l i n e within the home which i n s p i r e d the lawyers. ...the Roman home seemed to them to be the high school of Roman d i s c i p l i n a and the p a t r i a potestes an indispensible requirement. Moreover, the Roman respect f o r i n d i v i d u a l freedom rendered them l o a t h to i n t e r f e r e with the i n t e r n a l management of the Roman home. At a l l events Roman private law ended at the threshold of the Roman house... . 1 7 10 Another s i g n i f i c a n t development i n Roman law began with the f i r s t emperor, Octavius, or Augustus as he was l a t e r c a l l e d . He pro-posed a se r i e s of laws known as the lex J u l i a e t Papia, which had had great e f f e c t on Roman society. The decadence and general moral d e t e r i o r a -t i o n of the empire had resu l t e d i n a d i s i n t e g r a t i o n of family r e l a t i o n -ships and a p r o l i f e r a t i o n of homeless c h i l d r e n — e i t h e r because of an abuse of the potestes whereby chi l d r e n could be disowned and sold at w i l l , or from the fac t that s o l d i e r s (comprising a large proportion of the male population) were forbidden to marry, with the r e s u l t that any 18 c h i l d r e n they fathered were i l l e g i t i m a t e . By the lex Papia i t was decreed that through h i s c h i l d r e n a person gained status i n the community. Persons who were not married and had no chil d r e n were unable to i n h e r i t . The unmarried person was not able to take any part of what had been l e f t to him, and the married person without ch i l d r e n was only able to take one h a l f . Payne argues that by giving the people, or the common treasury, the b e n e f i t of the clause f o r f e i t i n g inheritance on account of s t e r i l i t y , 19 the law was recognizing the populus as the common father, a development perhaps foreshadowing the evolution of the modern welfare state. Among the provisions of the lex J u l i a were those e n t i t l i n g p r i v i l e g e s of preference to that candidate for o f f i c e who had the greatest number of c h i l d r e n . Other examples of p r i v i l e g e s f o r fecundity i n -cluded s e n i o r i t y i n the consulate, and r e l i e f from a l l personal taxes 20 and burdens f o r c i t i z e n s who had three or more c h i l d r e n . Apart from discussions i n l e g a l documents concerning the Roman c h i l d , the writings of poets also can give some i l l u m i n a t i o n . Lucretius hints that children are something of a bother: ...Kids wet the bed Soaking not only sheets, but also spreads, Magnificent Babylonian counterpanes, Because i t seemed that i n t h e i r dreams they stood Before a u r i n a l or chamber pot With l i f t e d nightgowns. 21 Expressed too i n the poetry of Lucretius are the q u a l i t i e s of resignation and f a t a l i s m which, f a i r l y common i n the Mediterranean world of antiquity, are applied to c h i l d r e n as w e l l : When nature, a f t e r struggle, tears the c h i l d Out of i t s mother's womb to the shores of l i g h t , He l i e s there naked, lacking everything, Like a s a i l o r driven wave-battered to some coast, And the poor l i t t l e thing f i l l s a l l the a i r With lamentation—but that's only r i g h t In view of a l l the g r i e f s that l i e ahead Along his way through l i f e . 2 2 What i s i n t e r e s t i n g i n these fragments, apart from the rather morose view of human destiny, i s the underlying sense of empathy the w r i t e r shares with the c h i l d . Contrary t o the e a r l i e r l e g a l views of the c h i l d ' s i d e n t i t y , expressed i n debate over property r i g h t s etc., i n Lucretius we see a more human i d e n t i f i c a t i o n of an older person with the p l i g h t of a younger one. Adult and c h i l d are seen as sharing human l i f e together. This theme was elaborated further by Q u i n t i l i a n i n the f i r s t century A.D., who argued that i n f a n t s should be regarded from b i r t h as having f u l l capacity f o r growth: For there i s absolutely no foundation for the complaint that but few men have the power to take i n the knowledge that i s imparted to them... . Those who are d u l l and unteachable are as abnormal as prodigious b i r t h s and monstrosities and are but few i n number. A proof of what I say i s to be found i n the f a c t that boys commonly show promise of many accomplishments, and when such promise dies away as they grow up, t h i s i s p l a i n l y due not to the f a i l u r e of natural g i f t s but to lack of r e q u i s i t e a t t e n t i o n . . . . 2 3 This growing sense of the c h i l d as a human being having "natural g i f t s " of h i s own, that i s , an i d e n t i t y not wholly dependent on the father, was becoming more and more common i n the early centuries of our era. A c h i l d ' s f a i l i n g s came to be seen not so much as due to inherent weakness, but due to external circumstances. By the fourth century the Theodosian Code contained a law to be "posted throughout a l l the m u n i c i p a l i t i e s of I t a l y " to " r e s t r a i n the hands of parents 24 from i n f a n t i c i d e and turn t h e i r hopes to the better... ." I t would be naive to think that the growth of the C h r i s t i a n Church i n t h i s period wrought immediately a transformed view of the c h i l d ; however, i t can be said with some c e r t a i n t y that through the writings of the Church Fathers a new sense of the c h i l d ' s nature and destiny began to be expressed, and as the influence of the Church grew, so d i d these new ideas about childhood grow into a broadening acceptanc The sacrament of adult.baptism, used as a sign of the Chris-t i a n ' s new b i r t h i n t o the l i f e of the Church, brought the adult to a new sense of the meaning of h i s own b i r t h . This was c l e a r l y expressed by T e r t u l l i a n (a lawyer turned theologian) i n the t h i r d century: Surely C h r i s t loved man, the man that i s hardened i n the midst of uncleanness and comes f o r t h through the parts of shame, the man who must grow up through a l l the i n d i g n i t y of being a baby.... In lo v i n g man He loved his f l e s h and h i s process of being born... He remakes our b i r t h by a new heavenly b i r t h . . . Here we see the view that the baby who s u f f e r s " i n d i g n i t y " i s also the "man that i s hardened i n a woman." Adult and c h i l d share the same 13 nature. The pain and uncleanness of one's earthly "process of being born" i s remade by a new "heavenly b i r t h , " that of C h r i s t . These understandings represented a r a d i c a l s h i f t from those discussed i n the e a r l i e r Roman period where, under the p a t r i a potestes the father was p s y c h o l o g i c a l l y distanced from his o f f s p r i n g by v i r t u e of his separate power, and also by the demand placed on ch i l d r e n to revere the father as being almost divi n e . Within the P a t r i s t i c i n t e r -p r e t a t i o n of baptism as r e f l e c t e d by T e r t u l l i a n , we see a new u n i f i c a t i o n of adult and c h i l d worlds under God. Through baptism, the adult's b i r t h i s remade and transformed by the b i r t h of God i n C h r i s t . But so too has the c h i l d ' s b i r t h been transformed into a new "process of being born... ." This view had profound ramifications not only for an under-standing of human destiny but a l s o for c h i l d rearing p r a c t i c e s . Adults whose l i v e s were remade by baptism f e l t a new sense of r e s p o n s i b i l i t y for the moral upbringing of t h e i r c h i l d r e n . I f c h i l d r e n are born with the capacity f o r growth, then an urgent question i s how that growth w i l l be d i r e c t e d . This view was r e f l e c t e d i n an address given by John Chrysostom i n Antioch i n 388 A.D. I f good precepts are impressed on the soul while i t i s yet tender, no man w i l l be able to destroy them when they have set firm, even as does a waxen s e a l . The c h i l d i s s t i l l trembling and f e a r f u l and a f r a i d i n look and speech and i n a l l else. Make use of the beginning of his l i f e as thou::shouldst. ...Even so God rules the world with the fear of H e l l and the promise of His kingdom. So must we too r u l e our children.26 In conclusion to t h i s section on the Roman period, some men-t i o n must be made of Augustine of Hippo whose w r i t i n g has had deep e f f e c t on the evolution of Western thought. His Confessions and other volumi-nous works provide i n s i g h t i n t o h i s ideas concerning a d u l t - c h i l d r e l a t i o n s . Despite h i s strong t i e s to his mother, Augustine stressed that one's true family was not the natural one. Rather, one's true family dwelt* i n the life-to-come. This i s an important key to under-standing h i s view of C h r i s t i a n family r e l a t i o n s . I f one's ultimate 27 l o y a l t y i s to that family which w i l l "help one be born again," then the f o s t e r i n g of r e l a t i o n s i n one's natural family begins to fade i n importance. We should have no connections as are contingent upon b i r t h and death... . Our r e a l selves are not bodies."28 This i s not to say that he regarded the natural family as unimportant— only that i t should not demand man's ultimate l o y a l t y . His concern for c h i l d r e n (and adults) was not lessened, because a l l c r e a t u r e s — including babies—have a place i n God's.plan: In view of the encompassing network of the universe and the whole c r e a t i o n — a network that i s p e r f e c t l y ordered i n time and place, where not even one l e a f of a tree i s s u p e r f l u o u s — i t i s not possible to create a superfluous man. 2 9 The baptism of inf a n t s unaware of the s i g n i f i c a n c e of the act was j u s t i f i e d as improving the f a i t h of the parents, a f a i t h that would help the infants l i v e again even i f they should die young. The s u f f e r -ing of inf a n t s should not be questioned, for, i t was thought, God works good from apparently e v i l events. Adults who su f f e r by watching t h e i r c h i l d r e n i n a f f l i c t i o n may be goaded thereby to l i v e sounder C h r i s t i a n l i v e s . Further, we should not assume that c h i l d r e n are t r u l y innocent at b i r t h : they are self-centred and grasping and merely have not had as much opportunity to s i n . I f i t can be said that Augustine c r y s t a l l i z e d a new a t t i t u d e toward chil d r e n , i t would be that adult and c h i l d shared a new equality under God: Some t i r e d with age, others i n the vigour of youth, some of them boys, others grown men, others women— God i s equally present to a l l . 3 1 Lyman argues that i t remains to be seen what e f f e c t the P a t r i s t i c t h e o r e t i c a l modifications had on widespread s o c i a l p r a c t i c e . I t i s d i f f i c u l t , although tempting, to e s t a b l i s h c l e a r l i n e s of influence. Nevertheless, the Imperial l e g i s l a t i o n from the fourth century onward suggests that at l e a s t , for example, the worst abuses of ch i l d r e n were inc r e a s i n g l y coming under the purview of government o f f i c i a l s . The recurrence of l e g i s l a t i o n indicates how generally ingrained were the pr a c t i c e s of i n f a n t i c i d e , c h i l d sale and abandonment. That these pr a c t i c e s had continued even a f t e r the era of Constantine (fourth century A.D.) i s t e s t i f i e d to both by the necessity f o r continuous a d d i t i o n a l l e g i s l a t i o n and also by the repeated condemnation of i n f a n t i -32 cide by church figures such as T e r t u l l i a n and Lactantius. "In medieval society the idea of childhood did not e x i s t . " J J A r i e s ' statement of the 1960's has proven a most f r u i t f u l one, given the energy of research since generated to refute the claim. The Middle Ages as an h i s t o r i c a l period has long been a subject of i n t e r e s t to Western scholars, and many c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s of the epoch are part of the modern inheritance. For example, l e g a l and organizational innovations of the l a t e Roman era (such as municipal government) have found t h e i r way i n t o contemporary urban planning. The debate over the re l a t i o n s h i p between Church and State i s s t i l l a l i v e today. The ascend-ency of Islam, the growth of the Papacy, the evolution of towns through trade and commerce, the development of u n i v e r s i t y education, the decline of the Church and the advance of secular culture through Scholasticism, Science and the New Humanism, a l l f i n d t h e i r beginnings i n the Middle Ages. Many of the themes concerning childhood which we have delineated already continued into t h i s era. Indeed, the m u l t i p l i c i t y of writings and documents from the period forces us to remember that a t t i t u d e s to chi l d r e n almost always e x i s t as a p l u r a l i t y . While c e r t a i n ideas and pract i c e s may gain prominence at any one time, generally others can also be found. In a tenth century manuscript, f o r example, the Codex Egberti, the a r t i s t portrays a scene from the Massacre of the Innocents, a popular 35 subject i n s t o r i e s r e l a t i n g to Chri s t ' s infancy. Fig. 2 Trier, Municipal Library, Cod. 24, fol. 15v Codex Egberti, The Massacre of tfe: Innocents. Several features stand out i n the p i c t u r e . On the one hand, the slaughtered c h i l d r e n are shown as somewhat over-fed and over-sized ' l i t t l e adults' being harpooned dispassionately by s o l d i e r s on command. In contrast to the s o l d i e r s ' coolness, yet equally stressed, i s the frenzied anguish of the bereaved mothers, who turn t h e i r faces away i n g r i e f and p u l l t h e i r h a i r . Some scholars argue that t h i s kind of ambi-3 6 valence i s t y p i c a l of the Middle Ages. A growing sympathetic appre-c i a t i o n of childhood was no guarantee of protection for c h i l d r e n , any more than, say, an appreciation of womanhood today necess a r i l y protects women from mistreatment. Nor i s contemporary l e g i s l a t i o n against c h i l d abuse necessarily a guarantee of the end of the p r a c t i c e . The p o r t r a y a l of the c h i l d r e n i n the picture may i n part r e f l e c t an A r i s t o t l i a n d i v i s i o n of human l i f e i n t o three stages: the voluptuous (or pleasure-oriented), the c i v i l or p o l i t i c a l , and the contemplative or speculative. In 1309 the Montpellier physician and professor,, Bernard de Gordon, adopted A r i s t o t l e ' s categories and elaborated on them for a book on c h i l d care c a l l e d Regimen s a n i t a t i s . In i t he described the "voluptuous l i f e " as "the age of childhood which extends to about the fourteenth year."* Characterizing t h i s f i r s t stage, he wrote: In the f i r s t there i s no happiness, but those who l i v e i t , l i v e according to desire and pur-sue sensual d e l i g h t s , j u s t l i k e c a t t l e , hence they l i v e below themselves [ i . e . , below t h e i r human n a t u r e ] . 3 ^ *The c i v i l or p o l i t i c a l l i f e i s that of adolescence or youth which extends to t h i r t y - f i v e years of age ('.) . The t h i r d age i s that i n which people lead an angelic or divine l i f e , i . e . , o l d age to the end of l i f e . In the l e g a l t r a c t s of the V i s i g o t h i c Kingdom* we gain some 38 i n t e r e s t i n g glimpses of the l e g a l status of early medieval youth. The "age of majority" was fourteen, at which time a c h i l d became free to t e s t i f y i n the courts and to make v a l i d w i l l s and contracts. A male c h i l d over the age of fourteen could not be betrothed against his w i l l . I t was also the age at which the c h i l d had the r i g h t to de-cide whether i t should remain i n , or be placed under tutelage. Gener-a l l y , male and female c h i l d r e n were treated i n d i s t i n c t fashions, the f i r s t gaining freedom from tutelage at fourteen and the second remain-39 mg under control u n t i l the upper age l i m i t of twenty. The V i s i g o t h i c kings took s e r i o u s l y t h e i r duty as C h r i s t i a n monarchs to care f o r the i n t e r e s t s of c h i l d r e n . This was p a r t i c u l a r l y true regarding parental d i s t r i b u t i o n and disposal of property. Baptism became the sole j u r i d i c a l l y s i g n i f i c a n t c r i t e r i o n of a c h i l d ' s r i g h t to i n h e r i t , whereupon parental freedom to dispose of property was l i m i t e d 40 e n t i r e l y to t h e i r c h i l d r e n . A posthumous c h i l d enjoyed the same r i g h t s of inheritance to the paternal estate as d i d h i s brothers and s i s t e r s . These r i g h t s of c h i l d r e n against t h e i r parents were maintained i n the persons of the grandchildren and great-grandchildren. The ch i l d r e n f i r s t i n l i n e of succession i n h e r i t e d equally: there was no d i s t i n c t i o n of sex.'*1 L e g i s l a t i o n a l s o d e a l t with the matter of parental authority 42 over c h i l d r e n of a marriage. Parents s t i l l retained the r i g h t to arrange a c h i l d ' s marriage before the age of majority, and could oblige *The V i s i g o t h i c Kingdom occupied the area of Western Europe now Spain. I t was overrun by Islamic invasion at th beginning of the eighth century, A.D. him to enter the r e l i g i o u s l i f e at an e a r l y age. But the emphasis of the laws was upon duties rather than powers, and they offered c h i l d r e n extensive protection from parental 'improprieties.' For example, the prenatal r i g h t s of the c h i l d were safeguarded. Abortion was punished by the execution or b l i n d i n g of the offending woman, together with her husband i f he had ordered her to commit the crime, or consented to i t . I n f a n t i c i d e was forbidden, as was the sale, donation or pledging of child r e n , although ch i l d r e n were frequently given by t h e i r parents for upbringing by others, with yearly payment u n t i l the c h i l d was ten, 43 at which time i t was deemed able to earn the expenses of i t s keep. The degree to which these laws attempted to protect the r i g h t s of the young should temper those modern h i s t o r i a n s who portray 44 the l o t of 'ancient' c h i l d r e n almost always i n terms of gross abuse. Indeed, what i s most notable about these l e g a l compilations (issued by King E r v i g i n 681 A.D.) i s t h e i r modernity. Their attempt to give r e s p o n s i b i l i t y and d i g n i t y to c h i l d r e n at an e a r l y age can be seen as forerunning much of the debate over children's r i g h t s today. By the t h i r t e e n t h century, broad movements were underway to consolidate advances made e a r l i e r i n d i f f e r e n t d i s c i p l i n e s . As a r e s u l t , for example, several attempts were made to develop encyclo-paedic compilations drawn from the a u t h o r i t a t i v e sources i n natural science, theology, and l i b e r a l a r t s , f o r the use of both preachers and the general, educated lay p u b l i c . Many of these works contained ac-counts of the d i f f e r e n t stages of human development from b i r t h to death, descriptions of bodily functions, and guidance for those involved i n c h i l d - r e a r i n g . One of the most widely disseminated of these en-cycloedias was the De proprietatibus rerum (ca. 1230) 'by the Franciscan Bartholomaeus Angelicus. In the course of the next three hundred years the work was translated into French, English, Dutch, Provencal, I t a l i a n 45 and Spanish. I t i s of p a r t i c u l a r i n t e r e s t to us not only f o r i t s wide c i r c u l a t i o n but for those sections which deal with e x p l i c i t d e f i n i t i o n s of c h i l d r e n and advice concerning t h e i r care. With heavy borrowings from A r i s t o t l e and Arabic sources, the book was regarded as a ' s c i e n t i -f i c ' work, yet i t s i n t e n t was also moral, with many B i b l i c a l and T, • ^ - i 46 P a t r i s t i c glosses. Bartholomew distinguished between the infant and the c h i l d . The l i f e of the former began i n utero and was born "out of seeds which 47 possess contrary q u a l i t i e s . " Further, " L i f e i s produced when the soul s t e a l s i n and when i t has been enveloped by skin." The i n f a n t becomes a c h i l d when i t i s weaned. Quoting the seventh century etymo-l o g i s t , Isadore of S e v i l l e , Bartholomew notes the word c h i l d (puer) comes from the word for p u r i t y (puritas). The c h i l d i s so named from 48 "the p u r i t y of h i s natural innocence." Other i n t e r e s t i n g pictures have been preserved by G. G. Coulton 49 i n h i s volume on men and manners i n the Middle Ages. One i s an o r i -g i n a l fourteenth century biographical poem describing the Knight Bertrand de Guesclin. Seemingly i n c o r r i g i b l e as a youth, Bertrand eventually became renowned as a strong and chivalrous knight. The writer describes Bertrand within his family. The Knight Renaud de Geusclin was Bertrand's father and h i s mother a most gentle lady and most comely; but for the boy of whom I t e l l you, methinks there was none so hideous from Rennes to Dinant. F l a t -nosed he was and dark of skin, heavy and froward; wherefore h i s parents hated him so sore that often i n t h e i r hearts they wished him dead, or drowned i n some swift stream; Rascal, Fool, or Clown they were wont to c a l l him; so despised was he, as an i l l - c o n d i t i o n e d c h i l d , that squires and servants made l i g h t of him, but we have oftimes seen, i n t h i s world of vain shadows, that the most despised have been the greatest... . In t h i s account we can sense the d i f f i c u l t y of the parents i n acknowledging as t h e i r own a' c h i l d of so unfortunate appearance. As we have seen, i n e a r l i e r days such a condition would have been grounds for exposure. These parents, however, keep t h e i r wishes " i n t h e i r hearts," although t h e i r r i d i c u l i n g names unconsciously betray t h e i r unresolved disappointment and f r u s t r a t i o n . Within the account there i s no attempt or psychological a b i l i t y to understand Bertrand's l a t e r childhood a n t i - s o c i a l behavior i n terms of the abuses to which he has been subjected, but h i s subsequent success as a vigorous and chivalrous knight i s used as an i l l u s t r a t i o n of the p r i n c i p l e that " . . . i n t h i s world of vain shadows, ...the most despised have been the greatest." In other words, i f t h i s i s but a world of shadows, one's judgment of a c h i l d ' s (person's) destiny by ph y s i c a l appearance must be suspended. An i n t e r e s t i n g comment on Bertrand's e a r l y waywardness i s made by h i s uncle who reprimands those who would t r y to reform the youth: . . . i t i s meet and r i g h t that youth should have his way; for a l l that we may say, i t must slough i t s f i r s t s k i n . ^ 0 We might i n t e r p r e t such a statement as foreshadowing modern organismic theories of developmental psychology. How people of the Middle Ages explained the appearance at b i r t h of deformed, retarded or s t i l l - b o r n i n fants i s an i n t e r e s t i n g study i n i t s e l f . The physician Bartholomaeus Metlinger introduced in t o the vernacular the term Wechselkind, or changeling, which was ap-p l i e d to a deformed or mentally retarded c h i l d believed to have been substituted by the d e v i l f o r the authentic newborn c h i l d . In the p i c t u r e below, the d e v i l (with horns) i s shown handing the newborn i n -fant to his fellow-kidnapper i n the tree a f t e r he has put a changeling (suggested by the vague o u t l i n e of a shapeless head) at the side of the 51 b l i s s f u l l y unaware mother. I t i s i n t e r e s t i n g to note that explanations of abnormality attempted i n some measure to protect the innocence of the parents. The idea of the "changeling" often l e d to p r a c t i c e s aimed 52 at reversing the exchange, as well as to exposure or s l a y i n g . Multiple b i r t h s , e s p e c i a l l y the b i r t h of twins, were often regarded with fear, suspicion, or at l e a s t ambivalence, because of the common b e l i e f that the mother's adultery was responsible; hence the p r a c t i c e of per-mitting the 'legitimate' c h i l d to l i v e and exposing or abandoning the 53 other. B r i e f mention can be made of the p r a c t i c e of swaddling i n f a n t s , a subject de a l t with i n some d e t a i l by medical p r a c t i t i o n e r s . The general concern was to ease the newborn's traumatic t r a n s i t i o n from the womb, but i t was also l i n k e d i n s c h o l a s t i c writings with the medieval theory of 'humours' and with the explanation of natural l i f e as a gradual drying-out or consumption of the " r a d i c a l moisture" (humidum r a d i c a l e ) , a process which began with the seminal f l u i d i t y of conception 54 and ended i n the s k e l e t a l dryness of death. Some medical t h e o r i s t s took pains to describe the moral nature of the c h i l d , b e l i e v i n g that a person's mores a f f e c t the balance of h i s complexion or physi c a l c o n s t i t u t i o n . According to Bernard de Gordon, the age of seven was the c r u c i a l moment to begin the c h i l d ' s moral and i n -t e l l e c t u a l t r a i n i n g . At that age he should be entrusted to a master. An i n t e r e s t i n g caveat o f Gordon i s that the c h i l d should be taught very gradually, " l e s t he be hurt by a sudden t r a n s i t i o n to what he was 55 not used to. In s t a t i n g the p r i n c i p l e s of t h e i r educational theories, the physicians were not i n t o t a l agreement. Some followed Galen's view that The normal c h i l d i s good i n every way, and requires no c o r r e c t i o n o f manners; what i s rather needed i s prevention of corrupting influences...from bad habits, i n eating and drinking, i n exercise, i n shows, and i n what they hear... . ° Most, however, believed with A r i s t o t l e that the c h i l d ' s mind at b i r t h was neither good nor bad but merely, (foreshadowing Locke), a blank 57 s l a t e or tabula rasa. Education generally could be described as "learning the a r t 58 of l i v i n g from everyday contact." C e r t a i n l y i t would be a mistake to describe medieval education i n terms of the school, p a r t i c u l a r l y the La t i n school, which was intended s o l e l y f o r c l e r i c s . The general r u l e for most people was apprenticeship. Even the c l e r i c s who were sent to school were often lodged, l i k e other apprentices, with a c l e r i c , a 59 p r i e s t , or sometimes a prelate, whose servants they became. The apprenticeship model was linked to another common prac-t i c e — t h a t of sending one's c h i l d r e n away to the home of another i n order to learn, as one I t a l i a n observer of the Engli s h put i t , "better m a n n e r s . B o t h g i r l s and boys were tenured out for a period of seven to nine years between the ages of seven and eighteen. The p r i n c i p a l duty of ch i l d r e n entrusted i n such a way was service. A ries argues that i n t h i s period the r e l a t i o n s h i p between domestic service and ap-61 prenticeship was confused. Nevertheless, c e n t r a l to both was the b e l i e f that the c h i l d learnt best by pr a c t i c e , and that learning was indeed e s s e n t i a l l y p r a c t i c a l . The r e s u l t of t h i s view was that adult and c h i l d shared b a s i c a l l y the same s o c i a l r e a l i t i e s . A c h i l d might leave h i s family for h i s education, but not the family world. Wherever people worked, or amused themselves, even i n taverns of i l l repute, c h i l d r e n were mingled with adults. Transmission from one generation to the next was ensured by t h i s day-to-day p a r t i c i p a t i o n of ch i l d r e n i n adult l i f e — w h e t h e r i n workshop or home. FOOTNOTES 1G. H. Payne, The C h i l d i n Human Progress, New York, Putnam's, 1916, p. 98. 2 G. R. Driver and J . C. M i l l s , The Babylonian Laws, I I , Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1960, pp. 309-311. 3 Payne, op. c i t . , p. 102. 4See H. Aptekar, Anjea, New York, Godwin, 1931, and R. Money-Kyrle, The Meaning of S a c r i f i c e , New York, Johnson Reprint Corporation, 1965. 5 E . 0. James, S a c r i f i c e and Sacrament, New York, Barnes and Noble, 1962, p. 95. 6 I b i d . , p. 91. 7 Ibid ., p. 95. 8 This i s not s t r i c t l y true. Marrou deals extensively with c h i l d r e n i n H. I, A History of Education i n Antiquity, G. Lamb t r . New York, Sheed and Ward, 1956. 9 B. Jowett, S o c i a l Customs of Antiquity, New York, Longmans, 1921, p. 216. 1 0 I b i d . , p. 91. 1 1Payne, op. c i t . , p. 198. 12 Richard B. Lyman, J r . , "Barbarism and R e l i g i o n : Late Roman and Ea r l y Medieval Childhood," i n Lloyd de Mause, The History of Childhood, New York, Harper and Row, 1974, p. 76. 13 Thomas C o l l e t t Sandars, ed., I n s t i t u t e s of J u s t i n i a n , Cambridge, University Press, 1953, p. 3. 14 • F r i t z Schulz, C l a s s i c a l Roman Law, London, Oxford U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1969, p. 142. "*"^ See Schulz, pp. 143-161 for an exce l l e n t discussion of the i n -t r i c a c i e s of the p a t r i a potestes. 16W. Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream, L. Bradley, ed., Hammondsworth, Penguin, 1964, I, i , 46 f f . 17 Schulz, op. c i t . , p. 151. 18 Ibid., p. 113. 19 Payne, op. c i t . , 228. 20 . Ibid. 21 Quoted i n N. Lewis and M. Reinhold, eds., Roman C i v i l i z a t i o n :  Selected Readings, v o l . I I , New York, Macmillan, 1955, p. 129. 22 Ibid., pp. 220-231. 23 Ibid., pp. 281-288. 24 Ibid., p. 483. 25 Quoted i n Herbert A. Musurillo, The Fathers of The Pr i m i t i v e  Church, New York, Longmans, 1966, p. 156. 26 Quoted m M.L.W. Laistner, C h r i s t i a n i t y and Pagan Culture i n the Later Roman Empire, New York, Ithaca, 1951, p. 99. • 27 Lyman, op. c i t . , p. 88. 28 Quoted, i b i d . , pp. 84-85. 29 Ib i d . , p. 86. 30 Herbert A. Deane, The P o l i t i c a l and S o c i a l Ideas of St. Augustine, New York, Macmillan, 1966, pp. 56-59. 31 Quoted m E. Przywara, An Augustinine Synthesis, New York, Scribners, 1958, p. 369. 32 Lyman, op. c i t . , p. 90. 33 v. Philippe A r i e s , Centuries of Childhood, R. Baldick t r . New York, Vintage Books, 1962, p. 128. 34 C a r l Stephenson, Medieval History, New York, Harper and Bros., 1943, pp. v i i - x . 35 See Ilene Forsyth, "Children i n E a r l y Medieval Art," Journal  of Psychohistory, v o l . 4, No. 1, Summer 1976, p. 37. 3 6 I b i d . , p. 34. 37 Quoted i n Luke De Maitre, "The Idea of Childhood and C h i l d Care i n the Medical Writings of the Middle Ages," Journal of Psychohistory, v o l . 4, No. 1, Summer 1976, p. 467. 27 38 P. D. King, Law and Society i n the V i s i g o t h i c Kingdom, Cambridge, University Press, 1972, pp. 222-250. 39 Ibid., pp. 224-5. 40 Ibid., pp. 246-8. 4 1 I b i d . 42 Ibid., p. 238. 43 Ibid., p. 239. 44 Lloyd De Mause, "The Evolution of Childhood," i n L. De Mause, ed., The History of Childhood, New York, Harper and Row, 1975. 45 Michael Goodich, "Bartholomaeus Angelicus on Child-Rearing," History of Childhood Quarterly, v o l . 3, No. 1, Summer 1975, p. 76. 4 6 I b i d . 47 Ibid ., p. 77. 48 Ib i d . , p. 78. 49 G. G. Coulton, L i f e i n the Middle Ages, v o l . I l l , Cambridge, Univ e r s i t y Press, 1929, pp. 100-104. 5°Ibid., p. 102. 51 De Maitre, op. c i t . , p. 479. 52 J e f f r e y B. Russell, Witchcraft i n the Middle Ages, Ithaca,. New York, 1972, pp. 117-119. 53 Mary Martin McLaughlin, "Survivors and Surrogates : Children and Parents from the Ninth to the Thirteenth Centuries," i n De Mause, op. c i t . , p. 156. 54 De Maitre, op. c i t . < P-5 5 I b i d . , P- 480. 5 6 I b i d . , P- 481. 5 7 I b i d . 5 8 * • A r i e s , op. c i t . , p. 368. 59 T, ., Ibid., P- 367. 60 . Ibid., P- 365. 6 1 I b i d . , P- 366. Chapter Three RENAISSANCE AND REFORMATION The s o c i a l and i n t e l l e c t u a l changes of the f i f t e e n t h and s i x -teenth centuries had profound impact on the eventual status and role of c h i l d r e n . Indeed, i t could be argued that t h i s period marks the time i n h i s t o r y when many of our modern taken-for-granted assumptions about childhood found t h e i r shape and d i r e c t i o n . This i s not to say that the ideas of the period were necessa r i l y new or unique, but only that they became more widely accepted and part of a broader s o c i a l f a b r i c . Such features as the p r i n t i n g press, the r i s e of the middle cla s s e s , d i s -coveries i n the new and old worlds, and the emergence of humanism, the 'new learning' and schools a l l served to begin a r a d i c a l r e - d e f i n i t i o n not only of what i t meant to be a 'man i n the world 1 but also, a c h i l d within i t . While the extension of schooling to g i r l s would not become common u n t i l the eighteenth and e a r l y nineteenth centuries, by the seven-teenth century a f a i r l y dense network of schools for boys had been estab-l i s h e d i n most countries of Europe. The school had ceased to be confined to c l e r i c s and had become a strong instrument of s o c i a l i n i t i a t i o n , of progress from childhood to manhood.1 Any discussion of Renaissance thought must come to terms with i t s i n t e l l e c t u a l basis as centred i n the growth of humanism. K r i s t e l l e r claims to be unable to discover i n the humanist l i t e r a t u r e any common phi l o s o p h i c a l doctrine, "except a b e l i e f i n the value of man and the 2 humanities and i n the r e v i v a l of ancient learning," but we must be care-f u l to d i s t i n g u i s h modern conceptions of humanism ( t y p i c a l l y understood 28 29 as a concern for 'human' values) and the Renaissance understanding, which was not as such a p h i l o s o p h i c a l tendency or system, but rather a c u l t u r a l and educational program which emphasized and developed an im-portant but l i m i t e d area of s t u d i e s . 3 Cicero discussed i t s meaning i n h i s On the Orator, s t a t i n g that boys who some day would assume leadership i n state and society should prepare themselves by studying l i t e r a t u r e , philosophy, r h e t o r i c , h i s t o r y and law. A man so trai n e d was s a i d to be humanus or human. Wrote Cicero: We are a l l c a l l e d men, but only those of us are human (humani) who have been c i v i l i z e d by the studies proper to c u l t u r e . 4 This kind of culture, preserved i n the ancient Roman or Greek heritage, was c a l l e d humanitas, a L a t i n word more or l e s s equivalent to our humanism.5 Its appeal rested i n the vacuum created by strong s o c i a l and economic changes which by t h e i r very existence demanded a reformation of medieval views of the world, rooted as those were i n a close a s s o c i a t i o n of man with nature, a strong apocalyptic sense, and a perpetuation of lay ignorance due to the power of the Church over learning. This sense of f r u s t r a t i o n and l a t e n t energy i s w e l l expressed i n two p r i n t s of the Renaissance engraver Albrecht Durer done i n 1514.(seen on the next page). In the f i r s t , melancholy i s p e r s o n i f i e d as a heavy, despondent female f i g u r e . She s i t s surrounded by a c o l l e c t i o n of instruments, i n -cluding various geometrical figures, hourglass, magic square, balance, compass and r u l e , a l l strewn about i n confusion. On a grindstone a c h i l d scrawls on a s l a t e , s c r i b b l i n g away without d i r e c t i o n or r e s u l t . 7 Panofsky i n t e r p r e t s t h i s as an analysis of the f r u s t r a t i o n of the 30 creative impulse, and i t implies a contrast with those conditions i n which productive a c t i v i t y can be r e a l i z e d . This contrast i s presented by the engraving of St. Jerome i n h i s study. In the study, every ob-j e c t i s i n i t s ordered place and the s a i n t i s engaged i n happy contem-p l a t i v e and creative work. Even the animals are sleeping together with expressions of content. In a sense, then, i n Melancholia, impotence and gloom are the r e s u l t of human w i l l and energy lacking a t h e o r e t i c a l basis f o r action. The second p r i n t represents a v i s i o n of r e c o n c i l i a t i o n between theory and action, and a new order of being. The o r i g i n s of Renaissance humanism can be t r a c e d to the formula-t i o n i n the l a t e Middle Ages of Thomistic Scholasticism. This system of thought, r e f i n e d by Thomas Aquinas (1225-1275), had become almost u n i v e r s a l l y accepted i n Western Europe by the end of the fourteenth century, and indeed, even today, Aquinas' Summa Theologica forms the basis of p r i e s t l y t r a i n i n g i n the Roman Catholic Church. The outstanding feature of scholasticism was i t s perfected structure which offered a place f o r a l l things human as well as di v i n e . Although Platonic thought had survived i n t o the Middle Ages through the writings, among others, of Plotinus and Augustine, the dec i s i v e f a c t o r i n the b u i l d i n g of s c h o l a s t i c philosophy was the recovery, at l e a s t i n g transcribed form, of the texts of A r i s t o t l e . Aquinas attempted a syn-thesis of the revived p h i l o s o p h i c a l doctrines of A r i s t o t l e and the th e o l o g i c a l convictions of the Middle Ages. At the base of h i s system lay the A r i s t o t l i a n c l a s s i f i c a t i o n of knowledge. Here the d i f f e r e n t sciences dealing with man's environment found t h e i r appropriate place i n a h i e r a r c h i c a l arrangement at the summit of which were the doctrines of the Church and the th e o l o g i c a l formulations entrusted to her. Thus the e n t i r e realm of human learning, sacred or profane, was brought i n t o one harmonious system. 9 S i m i l a r l y , following A r i s t o t l e , Thomas erected a l o g i c a l structure upon an analysis of "being." Seeing that the mind i s con-fronted by a multitude of e x i s t i n g things, which are constantly i n motion or changing, Thomas taught that they are i n "potency" toward the f u l l r e a l i z a t i o n of t h e i r "being." So, f o r example, an acorn i s an oak i n potency. Psychology became an important branch i n s c h o l a s t i c study; i t s purpose being metaphysical i n attempting to understand the "whole man." I t was concerned with what today would be c a l l e d 'learn-ing theory*—how the " p o t e n t i a l l y i n t e l l i g i b l e " i s rendered " a c t u a l l y i n t e l l i g i b l e . " 1 0 Ultimately s c h o l a s t i c i s m was an all-embracing system of deduc-t i o n , centering upon God, which assumed that philosophy could extend r e l i g i o u s knowledge. 1 1 The humanists i n turn accepted the natural world as the locus of man's knowledge and by extension h i s knowledge of 12 God. whereas f o r Plato, man discovered h i s world by i n t u i t i o n and, f o r Augustine, i l l u m i n a t i o n was a consequence of divine r e v e l a t i o n , f o r the humanists, the i n i t i a t i v e f o r 'knowing' both God and the world rested with man himself. By c u l t i v a t i o n of h i s reason and i n t e l l e c t , he could 'know' h i s world more deeply and h i s God more profoundly. I t i s i n t h i s way that education and r e l i g i o u s p i e t y became powerfully mixed. By the c u l t i v a t i o n of reason, order, and v i r t u e , not only d i d man's l o t become more pleasant, but a l s o h i s appreciation of God became more r i c h . A l l of these assumptions found concrete expression i n the theories of education of the C h r i s t i a n humanists, notably Erasmus. The nature of man, fundamentally good, although corrupted by o r i g i n a l s i n , was capable of improvement by an i n t e l l e c t u a l d i s c i p l i n e . In a strange sense, the corruption of man's nature was r e l a t e d to h i s ignorance. The most corrupt man was i n turn the most i g n o r a n t — a n association often made today i n reference to, for example, students and m i n o r i t i e s . Weak students are often l a b e l l e d lazy or 'good-for-nothing*. Hope f o r op-pressed m i n o r i t i e s i s often defined i n terms of massive expenditure on educational programs. So too i n Renaissance humanism, learning, whether sacred or profane, would increase p i e t y . In the minds of many of the humanists, a new program of education was not only necessary; i t was a l l that was necessary. Hence the m u l t i p l i c i t y of t r e a t i s e s developed dur-ing t h i s period on the education of c h i l d r e n (e.g., Erasmus' t r e a t i s e 33 On The Education of Children), and the flowering of schools emphasizing a c l a s s i c a l curriculum. * This was perhaps the f i r s t s i g n i f i c a n t appearance of a hope which has recurred again and again i n western thought and has remained one of the outstanding c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s of the evolution of European c i v i -l i z a t i o n — n a m e l y that through the systematic, formal education of one 1s chi l d r e n , s o c i a l peace, harmony and order could be achieved. Human cor-ruption i s due fundamentally to ignorance. The c i v i l i z e d man i s the learned man. I t might be noted i n passing that the p o s i t i o n of the C h r i s t i a n humanists f a i l e d to account for the New Testament view that ignorance i s the most forgiveable of human f r a i l t i e s , and provides the basis f o r both humility and compassion. See, f o r example, Luke 23:34. We must be c a r e f u l i n i n t e r p r e t i n g the r i s e of humanism as marking a s h i f t i n understanding of the place and r o l e of c h i l d r e n i n Euro-pean society generally for, to begin with at l e a s t , the new movement c o n t r i -buted to the evolution of an e l i t i s t c l a s s of i n t e l l e c t u a l a r i s t o c r a c y . To be sure, many of the c h i l d - r e a r i n g patterns of the Middle Ages per-s i s t e d on a widespread basis , but i n conjunction with other profound s o c i a l changes taking place i n the Renaissance, i t may be argued with some safety that t h i s era signals the point at which the c h i l d and the school become s i g n i f i c a n t l y linked. M. J. Tucker has made an i n t e r e s t i n g d e t a i l e d study of educa-t i o n i n sixteenth century England. 1 4 *Erasmus, i n a l e t t e r to the young Adolph of Veere, j u s t i f i e d the study of even the most profane of c l a s s i c a l authors, and i n h i s e d i t i o n of the works of St. Jerome, discounted the story of the saint's dream about being beaten before the gates of Heaven for being a Ciceronian and not a Christian.-'- 3 The c e n t r a l c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s of the English system included the following: (a) Though education had a r e l i g i o u s basis and was C h r i s t -centred, i t ceased to be the exclusive preserve of the clergy. (b) I t was also becoming more i m p o r t a n t — e s p e c i a l l y as parents saw i t as an avenue of upward s o c i a l mobility. Grammar schools were frequently being created, the most famous being St. Paul's Cathedral school, started by the human-i s t , John Colet, a f r i e n d of Erasmus. (c) A preoccupation with Roman and Greek writers ensured c l a s s i c a l scholarship a c e n t r a l place i n the curriculum. By i m i t a t i n g a n t i q u i t y i t was thought the - c h i l d could learn a l l that was necessary to c o n t r o l oneself and to advance i n the world of a f f a i r s . (d) Education was deemed necessary to develop a person into a gentleman or gentlewoman. Most a r i s t o c r a t i c c h i l d r e n were sent to grammar school at s i x or seven years of age. Princes or princesses often began at three or four years. Increasingly, g i r l s were given opportunity for formal education. In conclusion to t h i s section, b r i e f mention should be,made of one outcome of Renaissance thought which, while subtle, was to become more important i n l a t e r centuries. This was the increasing sense of s p e c i a l i z a t i o n within human a c t i v i t y . P r ofessional knowledge and 35 areas of s c h o l a r l y and creative a c t i v i t y were becoming more and more compartmentalized. Where there was l e s s cohesion i n the s o c i a l order and i n the i n t e l l e c t u a l world as a whole, i t became more s a t i s f y i n g and, indeed, necessary to seek f o r that more l i m i t e d but more intensive unity which could be obtained by i s o l a t i n g and d e f i n i n g a given subject matter. Hence, Machiavelli i n p o l i t i c a l theory, Leonardo and Durer i n the theory of the a r t s , and Erasmus i n c l a s s i c a l scholarship, found autonomous areas i n which they could pursue t h e i r i n v e s t i g a t i o n s and draw t h e i r conclusions without reference to revealed t r u t h or i n h e r i t e d knowledge about the uni-verse as a whole. 1 5 I t may be p o s s i b l e to say, at the r i s k of over-s i m p l i f i c a t i o n , that at t h i s point, too, the c h i l d begins to become i s -l a t e d as a s o c i a l e n t i t y unto h i m s e l f — t o be nurtured and c u l t i v a t e d i n t o a new kinel of man. As Aries has argued, the modern philosophy of science i s predicated on the assumption that f o r anything to be studied i t has to be i s o l a t e d , and that We cannot exert any influence on an element of Nature unless we are agreed i t can be adequately i s o l a t e d . 1 6 So, too, the c h i l d , to become a student, had to be removed from the larger s o c i a l f a b r i c . I t must be borne i n mind, however, that f o r the Renaissance man, t h i s very s p e c i a l i z a t i o n — u n d e r s t o o d as a d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n of sub-j e c t matter rather than as a personal s p e c i a l i z a t i o n i n the modern s e n s e — 17 was s t i l l predicated on a conviction of the unity of a l l knowledge. This i s an assumption often forgotten i n modern s p e c i a l i z e d studies. In the case of studies of c h i l d r e n , f o r example, the dangerous consequences of ignoring the t o t a l framework of the c h i l d ' s world are becoming more and more ev i d e n t . 1 ^ 36 Many h i s t o r i c a l surveys of the f i f t e e n t h and sixteenth cen-t u r i e s examine Renaissance and Reformation i n one continuous sweep, not because the two are the same, but because i n a c e r t a i n sense the l a t t e r found i t s seed i n the former. The new confidence of man i n h i s world provided a basis upon which the i n d i v i d u a l ' s r e l a t i o n s h i p t o authority and i n s t i t u t i o n a l structures could come under question. I t i s often d i f f i c u l t f o r the twentieth century secular mind to understand the power that C h r i s t i a n i t y and the Church had, p r i o r to the sixteenth century, not only over i n t e l l e c t u a l endeavour, but also over the l i v e s of the common people. The Catholic Church occupied a p o s i t i o n i n most European countries which no r e l i g i o u s organization holds today. As 19 Hayes points out, each state undertook to enforce obedience to the church on the part of i t s subjects; a person attacking the authority of the Church was l i a b l e to punishment by the state. The Church was o f f i c i a l and p u b l i c , not pri v a t e and voluntary. Every professed C h r i s t i -an was expected to conform, at l e a s t outwardly, to the doctrine and ob-servances of the Church. What i s more, every c h i l d of C h r i s t i a n parents was born i n t o the Church almost as l i t e r a l l y as he i s now born i n t o a state. The b e l i e f was set firm that the Catholic Church was of divine o r i g i n and to question i t s authority was to question the authority of God himself and, hence, invoke His judgment. I t was by means of the Church that man was to know how best to order his l i f e i n t h i s world and how to prepare h i s sOul f o r happiness i n the world to come. With the humanist r e v i v a l , however, a decisive s h i f t began. Medieval culture g l o r i f i e d God and Heaven, while, through humanism and the Renaissance, man and h i s world became the focus of atten t i o n . This i s not to say that the r e l a t i o n s h i p between man and God was s t i l l not an overriding concern, but only that the r e l a t i o n s h i p between man and man, man and h i s surroundings, became in c r e a s i n g l y worthy of con-s i d e r a t i o n . In Renaissance a r t , for example, man became the measure of a l l things created by man. In contrast to the medieval gothic cathedrals where the sheer enormity of the nave spoke of God's great-ness and man's smallness, Renaissance architecture was made to comply with the s i z e of man himself and i n t h i s way proclaimed h i s autonomous di g n i t y . Renaissance man was not a n t i - C h r i s t i a n , as the philosopher Petrarch was moved to say when defending h i s reverence f o r the c l a s s i c a l world: "I c e r t a i n l y am not a Ciceronian, or a P l a t o n i s t , but a Chris -21 t i a n . " But the f a c t that he could make h i s defense i n those t e r m s — choosing a C h r i s t i a n frame of reference from two possible a l t e r n a t i v e s — was an i n d i c a t i o n of a b e l i e f that simply by ex e r c i s i n g h i s powers of d i s c r e t i o n a man could make his e x i s t e n t i a l choices, and define the realms of his own meaning. This was p r e c i s e l y the point of view that the reformers and the Reformation could not accept. The issue centered around the very d e f i n i t i o n of man. Was man to understand himself simply on the basis of h i s own a b i l i t y to make sense of h i s world, with God as the ultimate step i n the progress of i l l u m i n a t i o n , as A r i s t o t l e and l a t e r Aquinas had suggested? Or was there somehow a void between things human and divine with the l a t t e r having a potency and c e r t a i n independence of action which demanded that man l i v e by f a i t h and hope rather than simply by reason. This was the dilemma faced by Martin Luther, the young German Augustinian f r i a r , f o r whom the New Testament text of Romans, "the j u s t s h a l l l i v e by f a i t h , " became the b a t t l e cry to shake European c i v i l i z a t i o n to i t s roots. I t i s not the place here to discuss the i n t r i c a c i e s of the Reformation debates, except to say that for a l l the reformers, the om-nipotence of God and man's dependence on Him was the c e n t r a l concern of human existence. Indeed, man was not man u n t i l he had answered a f f i r m a t i v e l y the question of the nature of h i s ultimate b e l i e f . Be-l i e f and f a i t h could inform reason, but reason alone could not lead to b e l i e f . F u l l healthy l i v i n g ( i . e . , s a l v a t i o n , connoted from the L a t i n salve, health) depended on man's complete f a i t h i n the mercy and j u s t i c e of God. Without such f a i t h man was le s s than man, i f not 22 . • depraved. What i s more, the prime i n i t i a t i v e f o r b e l i e f rested with God himself. Man's purpose was t o be understood more i n terms of r e -sponse. Thus there i s a sense that while i n the humanist view of f a i t h both man and God are p r i n c i p a l actors i n the human drama, for the reformers, God alone assumed that p o s i t i o n . Man's ro l e was to be charac t e r i z e d i n terms of obedience and responsiveness. Of course, the reformers v a r i e d considerably i n the manner i n which the doctrines were worked out. Luther, f o r example, was p r i -marily i n t e r e s t e d i n t h e o l o g i c a l systemizing and B i b l i c a l i n t e r p r e t a -t i o n . His t h e o l o g i c a l formulations emphasized the divine-human r e l a -t i o n s h i p , and dealt only l i g h t l y with meaning and place of the Church v i s i b l e on earth. Calvin, on the other hand, having a l e g a l back-ground, concentrated on the problem of how the Church v i s i b l e on earth was to r e f l e c t i n f l e s h , blood, and day-to-day a c t i v i t y , the condition 39 of divine graciousness. While a minister i n Geneva, he worked out i n precise d e t a i l the way the enti r e c i t y should be organized p o l i t i c a l l y 23 and e t h i c a l l y to r e f l e c t the redeemed condition. This may be one reason, perhaps, why C a l v i n i s t theology exercised, e i t h e r e x p l i c i t l y or i m p l i c i t l y , such i n c r e d i b l e d u r a b i l i t y amongst the Puritans i n America. I t l e f t l i t t l e doubt as to the shape, tenor and texture of 24 the "community of the e l e c t . " As Wishy observed of the state of that republic, "by 1800 C a l v i n i s t views of the c h i l d and of human des-25 t i n y demonstrated remarkable staying power." The p r a c t i c a l i t y of Calvinism was well suited to a people concerned with the establishment 2 6 of a community where "Eden was waiting." Because the influence of Calvinism i n America through the Puritan t r a d i t i o n has been so profound, some discussion of i t s basic tenets seems j u s t i f i e d , p a r t i c u l a r l y as they r e l a t e to views of c h i l d -hood and c h i l d r e a r i n g p r a c t i c e s . The s p i r i t s of the European Enlighten-ment i n the eighteenth century, and of Darwinism i n the second h a l f of the nineteenth century, contrived to c l e a r the way, challenge, and even replace the Puritan ethos associated with the c h i l d , but c e r t a i n l y u n t i l the l a t t e r part of the nineteenth century, commonplace notions 27 about childhood were deeply grounded i n C a l v i n i s t theology. Within Puritan theology i t s e l f , i t i s d i f f i c u l t to f i n d statements s p e c i f i c a l l y dealing with the nature of the c h i l d as unique and d i f f e r e n t from that of adults. Contrary to Luther, who viewed children as e s s e n t i a l l y innocent,* the Puritans, following C a l v i n , *Luther i s reported to have said to one of h i s own c h i l d r e n : "You are our Lord's l i t t l e f o o l . Grace and remission of sins are yours and you fear nothing from the law. Whatever you do i s uncorrupted; you are i n a state of grace and you have remission of s i n s , whatever happens." 2^ believed that the human race as a whole—adult and c h i l d a l i k e — w a s i n a f a l l e n , depraved condition i n need of God's grace. This con-v i c t i o n had two consequences f o r a d u l t - c h i l d r e l a t i o n s . On the one hand, b e l i e v i n g adults had a r e s p o n s i b i l i t y to "protect t h e i r c h i l d r e n 29 from profanity," thereby ameliorating the c h i l d ' s f a l l e n condition. On the other hand, adults and parents were constantly warned not to lapse i n t o a sentimental view of a c h i l d ' s innocence. The renowned New England preacher, Jonathan Edwards, wrote: As innocent as ch i l d r e n seem to us, yet i f they are out of C h r i s t , they are not so i n God's sight, but are young vipe r s , and are i n f i n i t e l y more h a t e f u l than vip e r s , and are i n a most 3 Q miserable condition, as well as grown persons. The c h i l d , then, l i k e the adult, was i n need of redemption by God's grace, and the s o c i a l machinery necessary to a s s i s t , ensure or re-f l e c t * such a condition was put i n t o c a r e f u l operation. Besides having constantly to protect the c h i l d , those who thought of him i n purely moral terms had to accept other r e l a t e d im-p l i c a t i o n s . Parents were expected to r a i s e an obedient and reverent c h i l d , and c h i l d r e n were expected to respond accordingly. Should a parent be found negligent i n these duties, he was c a l l e d upon by a court of law to correct the matter. In extreme cases, where the parent was deemed *These verbs are - a r e f u l l y chosen, but the p l u r a l i t y r e f l e c t s the d i f f i -c u l t y i n C a l v i n i s t i c theology of a r t i c u l a t i n g the tension between the doctrine of predestinarian e l e c t i o n and; man's a b i l i t y to respond to the divine i n v i t a t i o n . incapable of c o r r e c t i n g the problem, the c h i l d was sent to another home. I f c h i l d r e n , because of parental neglect, were disobedient or i r r e v e r e n t toward parents, they, of course, were not found responsible, but given over to the care of another Puritan home, usu a l l y designated a f o s t e r home. Should a c h i l d be found disobedient or i r r e v e r e n t with-out reason, he or she could expect to be severely punished i r r e s p e c t -31 ive of age. Any c h i l d over sixteen could be put to death for curs-ing or s t r i k i n g h i s natural parents unless i t could be proved they had been Unchristianly negligent i n the Education of such Children, or so provoked them by extreme and c r u e l c o r r e c t i o n , that they have been forced thereunto to preserve themselves from Death or maiming. Pedagogy almost always had a d e f i n i t e moral i n t e n t , reminding the c h i l d e a r l y i n l i f e of the nature and destiny of man. The following 33 excerpt from a New England Primer i l l u s t r a t e s how even while perhaps learning his alphabet on Mother's knee, an attempt was made to give the Puritan c h i l d more than simple i n s t r u c t i o n i n l e t t e r s . What i s p a r t i -c u l a r l y i n t e r e s t i n g about the i l l u s t r a t i o n s i n t h i s alphabet i s that while many l e t t e r s carry a f a i r l y heavy (to modern minds) moral message, or perhaps o n t o l o g i c a l message i s a better term, there i s a d e f i n i t e humour pervading some of the drawings (e.g., D, E, L, M) and some sense of appreciation of the wonders of nature (e.g., N). These features re-mind us that the Puritan mind was not incapable of l e v i t y and aesthetic s e n s i t i v i t y . I t should be remembered that the C a l v i n i s t notion of human depravity was s t i l l indeed part of a doctrine of s a l v a t i o n , and while the former could e a s i l y lead to morbid p r a c t i c e s , r i g h t l y In Jdatn'i Fall Wc Sinned all. Thy Life to Men<J This Bco\ Attend. The Cat doth play A Dog will bite A Thief at ni&ht. An Eaghi flight Is out of fight. The Idle Tool Is whipt at School. HigbtingaUs ilng In Time of Spring. The Royal Oak it wis the Tree That fav'd His Royal Majtftie. Peter denies His Lord and cries Queen Ejlher comes in Royal State To Save the JEWS from difmal Fate Fachol doth tnour. For her firft born. Samuel anoints Whom God appoint; As runs the Clafs Mans life doth oafs. My BooH and Heart Shall never p<m. Job feels the Rod Y<t blcfles GOD. Our KING the good No man of blood. The Lion bold The Lamb doth hold. The Maon gives light In time of iri$hc. Time cuts down all Both great and fmall. Uri oVibeaureomW ife Made David leck bis Life. Wiales in the Sea God's Voice obey. Xerxes the great did die, And lo mull you & I, Toutb forward Hips Death foonelt -nips. 7,acbeus he Did climb the Tree HH Lord to fee, Illustrated Alphabet understood i t was intended to r e f l e c t a message of good news. Thus, f o r example, while Puritan parents regarded d i s c i p l i n e as e s s e n t i a l f o r a c h i l d ' s moral development, the use of the rod was advised only as a l a s t r e s o r t . Kindness, wisdom, moderation, and a f f e c -t i o n were considered v a s t l y superior as ways of ge t t i n g c h i l d r e n back on t h e i r proper course. The p r i n c i p l e s of Cotton Mather with h i s own c h i l d r e n are a case i n p o i n t : 3 4 The E i r s t Chastisement, which I i n f l i c t f o r an ordinary f a u l t , i s to l e t t the c h i l d see and hear me i n an astonishement, and hardly able to believe that the c h i l d could do so base a thing, but be-l i e v i n g they w i l l never do i t again. I would never come, t o give a c h i l d a Blow; except i n case of Obstinacy: or some gross Enormity. To be chased f o r a while out of my Presence, I would make to be look'd upon, as the sorest Punishment i n the f a m i l y . . . . The s l a v i s h way of Education, c a r r i e d on with raving and k i c k i n g and scourging (in Schools as well as Families) t i s abominable; and a dreadful judgement of God upon the world. In conclusion to t h i s chapter these points can be made. The sixteenth and seventeenth centuries witnessed s o c i a l and i n t e l l e c t u -a l changes that were to profoundly a f f e c t accepted d e f i n i t i o n s of what i t meant to be a human being. In turn, views of the c h i l d became re-focused. The humanists understood c l a s s i c a l knowledge and culture as indispensible ingredients f or both enriched p i e t y and contemporary c i v i l i z a t i o n . By acting i n and upon the world, man and c h i l d f u l -f i l l e d t h e i r nature and destiny. By formally educating ch i l d r e n they would become not only more cultivated, but almost by definition, more pious also. Hence schools became increasingly important as the neces-sary tool whereby children could enter into this vision. The reformers, however, insisted that man, rather than an actor or i n i t i a t o r , was principally a dependent being whose duty was to respond to the divine i n i t i a t i v e in faith. This was the ultimate lesson for the child also. Children were to be viewed as sharing with adults their essential ontological dependence. Hence, moral training, particularly with respect to man's destiny, became pre-eminently im-portant i n adult-child relations. The conviction was profound that the child needed to respond affirmatively to the divine c a l l ; and steps were taken to ensure that the child would become aware of his need. FOOTNOTES "' 'Phi l ippe A r i e s , C e n t u r i e s o f C h i l d h o o d , R. B a l d r i c k t r . , New Y o r k , V i n t a g e , 1962, p . 367. 2 P a u l 0 . K r i s t e l l e r , R e n a i s s a n c e T h o u g h t , v o l . 1, New Y o r k , H a r p e r and B r o s . , 1961 , p . 22 . 3 I b i d . , p . 10 . 4 Henry S. L u c a s , The R e n a i s s a n c e and R e f o r m a t i o n , New Y o r k , H a r p e r and B r o t h e r s , 1960, p . 208 . 5 I b i d . , p . 209 . 6 M a r c B l o c h , F e u d a l S o c i e t y , L . A . Morgan t r . , C h i c a g o , U n i v e r s i t y o f C h i c a g o P r e s s , 1964, p p . 72 -78 . 7 E . P a n o f s k y , A l b r e c h t P u r e r , V o l . 1, P r i n c e t o n , P r i n c e t o n U n i v e r -s i t y P r e s s , 1943, p . 164. g K r i s t e l l e r , o p . c i t . , p . 25. 9 L u c a s , o p . c i t . , p . 176. 1 0 I b i d . , p . 178. 1 1 M . L . B u s h , R e n a i s s a n c e , R e f o r m a t i o n , and t h e O u t e r W o r l d , London B l a n d f o r d P r e s s , 1967, p . 149. 12 Myron P . G i l m o r e , The W o r l d o f Humanism, New Y o r k , H a r p e r and Row 1952, p p . 2 0 6 - 7 . " a i d . 14 M. J . T u c k e r , "The C h i l d as B e g i n n i n g and End : F i f t e e n t h and S i x t e e n t h C e n t u r y E n g l i s h C h i l d h o o d , " i n L l o y d DeMause, e d . , H i s t o r y  o f C h i l d h o o d , New Y o r k , H a r p e r T o r c h b o o k s , 1975, p p . 229 -255 . 15 G i l m o r e , o p . c i t . , p . 265 . 16 . A r i e s , o p . c i t . , p . 20 . 17 G i l m o r e , l o c . c i t . 18 A r l e n e S k o l n i c k , "The L i m i t s o f C h i l d h o o d : C o n c e p t i o n s o f C h i l d Deve lopment and S o c i a l C o n t e x t , " Law and C o n t e m p o r a r y P r o b l e m s , v o l . 39 , No . 3 , Summer 1975, p . 60 . 19 C a r l t o n J . H : H a y e s , Modern E u r o p e t o 1870, New Y o r k , M a c m i l l a n , 1970, p p . 129-30 . 20 Bush, op. c i t . , p. 127. 21 Ibid., p. 156. 22 Ibid ., p. 213. 2 3 T.H.L. Parker, P o r t r a i t of Cal v i n , London, S.C.M. Press, 1954, pp. 49-63. 24 Bush, l o c . c i t . 25 Bernard Wishy, The C h i l d and the Republic : The Dawn of Modern  American C h i l d Nurture, Philadelphia, U n i v e r s i t y of Pennsylvania Press, 1968, p. 12. 26 P a t r i c i a K. Naherny and Jose Rosario, "Morality, Science, and the Use of the Ch i l d i n History," i n V.F. Haubrich and M. W. Apple, ed., Schooling and the Rights of Children, Berkeley, McCutchan, 1975, p. 20. 2 7 I b i d . , p. 19. 28 Lucas, op. c i t . , p. 485. 29 Edmund S. Morgan, The Puritan Family, New York, Harper and Row, 1966, p. 172. 30 Sanford Fleming, Children and Puritanism, New York, Arno Press and the New York Times, 1969, p. 59. 31 Naherny and Rosario, op. c i t . , p. 22. 32 Quoted i n John Demos, A L i t t l e Commonwealth ; Family L i f e in  Plymouth Colony, New York, Oxford Un i v e r s i t y Press, 1971, p. 100. 33 . Robert H. Bremner, ed., Children and Youth in America : A Documentary History, v o l . 1, Cambridge, Harvard Un i v e r s i t y Press, 1970, p. 4. 34 Quoted i n Morgan, op. c i t . , p. 105. Chapter Four RATIONALISM, ROMANTICISM AND SCIENCE In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries we begin to confront i n seminal form many of the t h e o r e t i c a l bases underlying much of what i s known as ' c h i l d study' today, to say nothing of contemporary views of human nature generally. Thus on a fundamental l e v e l i t i s important to t r y to understand what those i n t e l l e c t u a l currents were. At the same time we need to bear i n mind that what began as t h e o r e t i c a l formulation i n that period remained l a r g e l y t h e o r e t i c a l , without wide-spread p r a c t i c a l implementation i n terms of p o l i c y and i n s t i t u t i o n . This i s p a r t i c u l a r l y so for the l i v e s of the masses of 'common' people. Their l o t was to s u f f e r from the s o c i a l turmoil caused by the fermenta-t i o n of new ideas and inventions. Furthermore, the rapid pace with which new discoveries were being made, new ideas were being hatched, and new s o c i a l networks evolving, makes h i s t o r i c a l study more d i f f i c u l t , p a r t i c u l a r l y of the sort attempting to paint broad strokes. The complexities accompanying such a condition often cause h i s t o r i a n s the f e e l i n g Rothman describes as that middle-of-the-night panic when contemplating how t h i n a l i n e sometimes separates t h e i r work from f i c t i o n . With the complexity granted, however, an attempt at discerning mean-i n g f u l patterns can be h e l p f u l . In general, with the Enlightenment were 47 associated four noteworthy concepts: (1) Naturalism. The s u b s t i t u t i o n of the natural f or the super-natural, of science for theology, and the assumption that the whole universe of matter and mind i s guided and con-t r o l l e d by natural law; (2) Rationalism. The e x a l t i n g and almost d e i f y i n g of human reason, which could and, according to the r a t i o n a l moral sense, should be u t i l i z e d by the i n d i v i d u a l to discover the laws of nature and to enable him to conform h i s l i f e to them; (3) Optimistic Progress. A hopeful b e l i e f i n the steady better-ment and ultimate p e r f e c t i n g of mankind, through increasing • use of reason and broadening knowledge of natural law; (4) Humanitarianism. A s e n s i t i v e regard for the natural r i g h t s of the i n d i v i d u a l and a p r e d i l e c t i o n f o r the s o c i a l blessings which "enlightenment" would bestow. The c a t e g o r i c a l d i v i d i n g of h i s t o r y i n t o epochs and ages tends to detract from the evolutionary and organic r e a l i t i e s of h i s t o r i c a l emergence. It i s generally agreed that the s p i r i t of Enlightenment grew out of the Renaissance and Reformation, although which of the 3 l a t t e r two was more important i s a subject of strong debate. In gen-e r a l , i t i s perhaps most h e l p f u l t o regard the seventeenth century as an age which saw a t r a n s i t i o n from one i n t e l l e c t u a l climate to another. The c u l t u r a l horizon of most educated men i n Western Europe i n the early seventeenth century was dominated by two almost unchallenged sources of authority: scripture and the c l a s s i c s . Each i n i t s own way perpetuated the idea that c i v i l i z a t i o n had degenerated from a former Golden Age. Ideals had to be traced backwards. For the humanists (most of them Christian) the c i v i l i z e d man should look back for i n -s p i r a t i o n and example to Greek and L a t i n learning. For the reformers the t r u l y virtuous man looked to the Bible and the l i f e of the early Church as revealed i n new vernacular t r a n s l a t i o n s . This sense of the deep entrenchment of the backward gaze posed p a r t i c u l a r problems for the thinker who sought, by e x e r c i s i n g his powers of imagination and reason to go beyond what was known. Not only would he need courage to question the accepted ancient masters, but he would also face the academic 'establishment' which, i n turn, mi b r i n g him under suspicion of heresy, f o r Church a u t h o r i t i e s s t i l l r e -garded the answers t o a l l p r o b l e m s — p r a c t i c a l and t h e o r e t i c a l — t o be found i n the B i b l e . Even Descartes, one of the great i n t e l l e c t u a l r e v o l u t i o n a r i e s of the century, concluded i n h i s Principes de l a  philosophie Above a l l , we w i l l observe as an i n f a l l i b l e r u l e that what God has revealed i s incomparably more c e r t a i n than a l l the r e s t . ^ The view of l i f e was generally p e s s i m i s t i c , held buoyant by the theo-l o g i c a l promises of e t e r n a l things t o come. In the words of the Englishman, S i r Thomas Browne Certain l y there i s no happiness within t h i s c i r c l e of f l e s h , nor i s i t i n the optics of these eyes to behold f e l i c i t y . Were there not another l i f e that I hoped f o r , a l l the v a n i t i e s of t h i s world should not entreat a moments breath from me.5 The. universe was thoroughly circumscribed with earth locked at i t s centre. Superstition and fear were common. The sixteenth and e a r l y seventeenth centuries were the great age of w i t c h c r a f t t r i a l s . 50 During the seventeenth century t h i s pessimism was gradually eroded by new knowledge and new ways of looking at experience. These f i r s t brought doubt and then, gradually, unprecedented optimism con-cerning the nature of man and his a b i l i t y to shape hi s material and s o c i a l environment to his own convenience. The new h e l i o c e n t r i c theory of the solar system, expounded by Copernicus i n 1543 and developed by G a l i l e o almost a century l a t e r , had far-reaching i m p l i c a t i o n s . The question was not merely who revolved around whom: the astronomical argument concerned the r e l a t i o n s h i p between man and nature. I f the earth was i n f a c t the centre, then man was l o r d i n the universe, as the Greeks had assumed, and the Old Testament j u s t i f i e d . I f the earth was just one planet among many, and not even the ce n t r a l one, then man needed to review h i s place. I f he was not at the centre, then where indeed was he? The question alone was pregnant with the energy . of authentic c u r i o s i t y . In implication, d i s t u r b i n g discoveries were being made also i n geology. Evidence of the r i s e and f a l l of the earth's surface was d i f f i c u l t to f i t into the 6,000-year span that Genesis allowed. S i m i l a r l y , there was the increasing expansion of common consciousness through voyages of discovery, which posed questions about the Church's views of o r i g i n a l s i n . To what degree could the peoples of the far East be l a b e l l e d sinners i f (a) they had never heard of the notion of human depravity, and (b) by European standards t h e i r culture and morality seemed superior? I t was these new experiences which caused men to profoundly question t h e i r o l d f a i t h s or at l e a s t the garb with which t h e i r f a i t h s were kept warm. The mystic Pascal was forced to conclude i n 1652 that . three degrees of l a t i t u d e reverse the whole of^ jurisprudence, a meridian decides about t r u t h . Locke, i n 1690, began h i s Essay on Human Understanding by denying the existence of innate ideas, and Descartes, a devout C h r i s t i a n , i n h i s revolutionary Discourse announced hi s i n t e n t i o n of beginning by accept-ing nothing as true unless he himself had a c l e a r and d i s t i n c t percep-t i o n of i t s v e r a c i t y . I t must be borne i n mind that i n these early years many of the creative thinkers s t i l l regarded themselves as orthodox churchmen. I t was j u s t that t h e i r new systems of thought were no longer dependent on the supporting arm of theology, but were l o g i c a l l y v i a b l e without i t . Hence i t might be argued that with the dawn of the Enlightenment emerged a new divorce between F a i t h and Reason. While f o r the Humanists f a i t h provided the reason f o r reason, and f o r the Reformers f a i t h could i l l u -minate and inform reason, the heritage of the Enlightenment i s an i r r e c o n c i l a b l e d i s t i n c t i o n between the two. F a i t h i s F a i t h : Reason i s Reason. The implications of t h i s view are f a r beyond the scope of t h i s study, but i t might be suggested that such features as the s e c u l a r i -zation of knowledge i n schools, the demise of mystery and wonder i n pedagogical handbooks, and the statements of contemporary students that t h e i r school studies are meaningless are r e f l e c t i v e of t h i s type of dichotomy.^ The one thing the new questioners had i n common was t h e i r r e j e c t i o n of t r a d i t i o n a l assumptions and at t i t u d e s . Yet i n the seven-teenth century, what was needed was a new c r i t e r i o n f o r t r u t h , a system by which the r e l i a b i l i t y of evidence could be checked and a new model of the universe gradually assembled from elements which had passed new t e s t s of c r e d i b i l i t y . For the findings and pronouncements of the new 8 r a t i o n a l i s t s were constantly being debated and hotly disputed. We cannot p o s s i b l y i n t h i s context trace a l l the movements which mark the evolution of r a t i o n a l i s m and the new science, but those ideas which somehow per t a i n to theories of learning, education, and hence childhood, bear some attention. We might note i n passing that the term "science" was not coined u n t i l the nineteenth century and the modern d i s -9 t m c t i o n s between 'science' and 'philosophy' were not drawn — a point that educators and students of childhood of the e m p i r i c i s t persuasion might remember: they are pre-eminently philosophers, or at l e a s t acting from a p h i l o s o p h i c a l p o s i t i o n . Kessen has argued that beginning with the Enlightenment there can be found an increasing devotion to the proposition that childhood i s a time of construction. Just as f o r the r a t i o n a l i s t s man constructs his own world, so also does the c h i l d . His notions of society, or morality, of the nature of time and of man are not brought out of t h e i r i n s t i n c t hiding-place by the wise a f f e c t i o n a t e teacher. Rather, knowledge i s con-structed by the c h i l d from hi s experience of men and things. The c h i l d i s what he i s made, and the Man i s what the c h i l d was.^ While his work i s not without ambiguities, perhaps the dominant philosopher of the eighteenth century, through whom these ideas were worked out, was John Locke (1623-1704). For Locke the o r i g i n of a l l human knowledge was f i r m l y placed i n the world of empirical f a c t : a l l ideas came through the senses. The s o - c a l l e d 'innate ideas' of Descartes were not innate at a l l , but rather the lessons of e a r l y experience. Furthermore, i n recognition of Newton's arguments for the existence of natural laws, Locke believed that natural law, while God-given, was simple and discoverable. This was true for the adult as well as the c h i l d . As he put i t , natural law "teaches a l l men who w i l l but consult i t . " 1 1 Here we have a sense of Piaget's theory of genetic epistemology, where-12 by the c h i l d discovers and constructs h i s world by acting upon i t . For Locke, too, human diff e r e n c e s were not due to hereditary d i s t i n c -t ions of 'blood*, but to differences of environment. Human i r r a t i o n -a l i t y was the product of erroneous associations made between d i f f e r e n t 13 elements and ideas that had become f i x e d i n childhood. Just as Newton with hi s g r a v i t a t i o n a l studies had seemed to substitute a r a -t i o n a l law of nature for unpredictable and often malevolent forces, Locke appeared to have d i s c l o s e d the s c i e n t i f i c laws of the human mind, which would allow men to reconstruct society on happier and more r a t i o n a l l i n e s . Locke's chief p h i l o s o p h i c a l work was c a l l e d Essay Concerning  Human Understanding, followed by a homelier book, Some Thoughts Concern- ing Education. His ideas on the subject of human nature are not always uniform: on the one hand denying the existence of innate ideas, while on the other speaking of 'native propensities.' On the f i r s t page of Some Thoughts, he writes: I confess, there are some men's Constitutions of Body and Mind so vigourous and we l l framed by Nature, that they need not much Assistance from others, but by the strength of t h e i r natural Genius, they are from t h e i r cradles c a r r i e d toward what i s Excellent... . In other cases, education i s determinate. The l i t t l e , and almost insensible Impressions on our tender Infancies, have very important and l a s t i n g consequences...and by [a] l i t t l e d i r e c t i o n given them at f i r s t i n the source, they receive d i f f e r e n t Tendencies. 1 6 His section on Rewards and Punishment presages Watson and the Behaviorists by two hundred years. The c h i l d makes choices, argued Locke, on the basis of pleasure rather than pain, therefore to t r a i n a c h i l d to obedience, i t i s necessary to reward ( i . e . , associate with pleasure) those behaviors deemed desirable and punish (associate with pain) those not so. As he put i t : Reward and Punishment are the only motives to a r a t i o n a l Creature; these are the Spur and Reins, whereby a l l mankind i s set on work guided, and therefore they are t o be made use of to c h i l d r e n too. For I advise t h e i r Parents and Governors always t o carry t h i s i n t h e i r minds, that ^ chi l d r e n are t o be treated as r a t i o n a l Creatures. The object of such t r a i n i n g i s f o r the c h i l d to be able to co n t r o l h i s needs for immediate g r a t i f i c a t i o n , thereafter to l i v e i n a "quiet and * n » 18 orderly way. His notes on " C u r i o s i t y i n C h i l d r e n " are i n t e r e s t i n g f o r t h e i r modernity: C u r i o s i t y i n C h i l d r e n . . . i s but an appetite a f t e r knowledge; and therefore ought to be encouraged i n them [by] these following 1. Not to check or discountenance any Enquiries he s h a l l make...; but to answer a l l h i s Questions and explain Matters... . 2. Add some p e c u l i a r ways of Commendation... . Let t h e i r vanity be f l a t t e r e d with Things, that w i l l do them good... . 3. great care i s t o be taken, that they never receive D e c e i t f u l and Eluding Answers. And though t h e i r Questions seem sometimes not very material, yet they should be s e r i o u s l y answer'd: For however they may appear t o us...Enquiries not worth making; they are of moment to those, who are wholly ignorant. . .55 I t i s i n t e r e s t i n g that Locke, a l i f e - l o n g bachelor, wrote Some Thoughts Concerning Education to a s s i s t those people who claimed to be at a loss as to how to r a i s e t h e i r children-—"the e a r l y corrup-20 t i o n of Youth i s now become so general a complaint." The implications of Locke's o v e r a l l philosophy of human nature were t o dominate much eighteenth century thought. Indeed, many of his ideas are foundationally embedded i n the modern subconscious, with the influence on b e l i e f s about ch i l d r e n and education not oblique. The basic contribution might be summarized as follows: (1) T o l e r a t i o n (since b e l i e f s were l a r g e l y a product of environment); (2) acceptance of the p o t e n t i a l e q u a l i t y of man, except as regards natural i n t e l l i g e n c e (since human differences were not due to hereditary d i s t i n c t i o n s of 'blood', but to differences of environment); (3) the assumption that society, by the regulation of material conditions, could promote the moral improvement of i t s members; (4) a new psychology and a new a t t i -tude t o education, based on the b e l i e f that human i r r a t i o n a l i t y was the product of erroneous associations of ideas, that had become f i x e d 21 i n childhood. I t might be mentioned i n passing that for the r a t i o n a l i s t s , as opposed to the Renaissance humanists, 'Reason' was not so much a body of knowledge as a method: the f a c u l t y of discovering the r i g h t answer by induction from the c o l l e c t e d f a c t s . Arid underlying t h i s a t t i t u d e was the assumption that there was a r i g h t answer to every question, that a l l problems from bridge-building to law-making could be answered with the same c e r t a i n t y as could a mathematical problem. By i m p l i c a t i o n , a c e r t a i n confidence also e x i s t e d that the i n t r i c a c i e s of human nature could also be thus understood. These two threads of empiricism and mathematical neatness run throughout the thought of the Enlightenment and account f o r much of i t s complexity and apparent con-22 t r a d i c t i o n . The notion that everything could be observed, discussed, or induced led to the attempt on the part of a group of Frenchmen (led by Denis Diderot, 1713-84) to c l a s s i f y knowledge a l p h a b e t i c a l l y . This i n turn i n i t i a t e d the development of the encyclopoedia movement. The aim of the Encyclopaedists was, by describing and analysing the world, to support the fundamental hypothesis upon which t h e i r empiricism rested, viz.the uniformity of nature. Yet they found that the more fac t s they c o l l e c t e d and c l a s s i f i e d , the more complex and uncoordinated the p i c t u r e seemed t o become.^3 The l i m i t a t i o n s of the experimental method were, of course, f r e e l y admitted by contemporary ' S c i e n t i s t s ' . Newton, f o r example, had stressed that he was seeking t o describe how the force of gravity operated, not to explain what g r a v i t y was. The s o - c a l l e d skepticism of David Hume (1711-76) lay i n h i s demonstrating those l i m i t a t i o n s a l -ready admitted by p h y s i c i s t s and elucidated i n t h e i r p h i l o s o p h i c a l 24 presentations. In A Treatise of Human Nature (1738) Hume's aim was to lay out the p r i n c i p l e s of a science of man, yet he soon found himself r e a l i z i n g how l i t t l e c e r t a i n t y could be achieved by the experimental 25 method. The law * of cause and e f f e c t , he pointed out, was based on the experience of f i n d i n g two objects i n constant conjunction, and arguing from t h i s experience t o the assumption that the two objects would occur i n conjunction i n the future. Yet i t was impossible i n the f i r s t place to prove by empirical means that constant conjunction implied cause and e f f e c t . The connection of cause and e f f e c t , then, was not i m p l i c i t i n the f a c t s ; i t c o u l d o n l y be a r r i v e d a t by i n t u i t i o n . S e c o n d l y , t h e r e was no l o g i c a l j u s t i f i c a t i o n f o r a r g u i n g f rom p a s t e x p e r i e n c e t o f u t u r e p r e d i c t i o n , u n l e s s we assumed t h e u n i -26 f o r m i t y o f n a t u r e . I n o t h e r w o r d s , t h e e m p i r i c a l method depended on an a p r i o r i a s s u m p t i o n a b o u t t h e n a t u r e o f t h o s e v e r y t h i n g s i t was a t t e m p t i n g t o e x a m i n e , so t h a t i n a s t r a n g e s e n s e , t h e answers o f t h e e m p i r i c a l i n v e s t i g a t o r were a l r e a d y i m p l i c i t i n h i s q u e s t i o n s . Hume was n o t d e n y i n g the e x i s t e n c e o f c a u s e and e f f e c t , he was m e r e l y a r g u i n g t h a t r e a s o n a l o n e c o u l d n o t e x p l a i n i t , and t h a t o u r b e l i e f i n c a u s a -t i o n must t h e r e f o r e s tem f r o m some o t h e r s o u r c e . H i s t h e s i s was , as he p u t i t , t h a t a l l o u r r e a s o n i n g s c o n c e r n i n g c a u s e s and e f f e c t s a r e d e r i v e d f r o m n o t h i n g b u t c u s t o m ; and t h a t b e l i e f i s more p r o p e r l y an a c t o f t h e s e n s i t i v e t h a n t h e c o g i t a t i v e p a r t o f o u r n a t u r e s . 2 ^ U n d e r s t a n d i n g t h r o u g h f e e l i n g r a t h e r t h a n t h r o u g h t h i n k i n g : t h i s i s the p o i n t a t w h i c h Hume c h a l l e n g e s r a t i o n a l i s m and seems t o j o i n hands 28 w i t h t h e R o m a n t i c s l e d by R o u s s e a u . Even i n terms o f m o r a l i t y , a r g u e d Hume, "Reason i s and ought t o be t h e s l a v e o f t h e p a s s i o n s , and c a n 29 n e v e r p r e t e n d t o any o f f i c e t h a n t o s e r v e and obey t h e m . " S i m i l a r l y men d i s t i n g u i s h v i r t u e from v i c e , n o t by i n t u i t i o n , n o r by l o g i c , b u t by s e n s a t i o n , by t h e f e e l i n g o f p l e a s u r e o r p a i n t h a t i s d e r i v e d f r o m the c o n t e m p l a t i o n o f a s i t u a t i o n , c h a r a c t e r , o r a c t i o n . 3 0 Hume's arguments t h e r e f o r e c a n be seen t o have s t r u c k a t two b a s i c p r e m i s e s o f t h e E n l i g h t e n m e n t t h o u g h t : t h e u n i f o r m i t y o f n a t u r e and t h e r a t i o n a l i t y o f man. Hume was a c o n t e m p o r a r y a n d sometime f r i e n d o f J e a n - J a c q u e s Rousseau (1712-78) whose book E m i l e was d i r e c t l y c o n c e r n e d w i t h formulating ideas of childhood and c h i l d r e a r i n g consistent with the new emphasis on the senses. One r a d i c a l consequence of t h i s s h i f t was to put emphasis on the i n d i v i d u a l rather than the c o l l e c t i v e group, f o r only each man alone could be the judge of h i s f e e l i n g s . In h i s p o l i t i c a l essay The S o c i a l Contract, Rousseau argued "L'etat c'est moi." S i m i l a r l y i n Emile he stated We must choose between making-a man or making a c i t i z e n . We cannot make b o t h . ^ Given that Emile i s an account by Rousseau of how to 'make' a man from a c h i l d , some examination of i t s c e n t r a l t h e s i s i s warranted. Again, we should bear i n mind that, as with Locke, inconsistencies i n h i s thinking are not absent, but what i s important are the fundamental thrusts. Perhaps the most seminal i s that, f o r Rousseau, a boy's edu-cation must proceed at a pace di c t a t e d by his own needs rather than his tutor's knowledge. He must not be taught the three R's u n t i l he has himself seen t h e i r value; h i s vocabulary must be c u r t a i l e d since i t i s a disadvantage f o r ch i l d r e n "to have more words than ideas and be able 32 to say more than they think." U n t i l the age of twelve, the tutor's aim should be "not to save time but to waste i t " so that the mind can 33 "remain i n a c t i v e u n t i l i t has a l l i t s f a c u l t i e s . " Early education should i n f a c t be negative: " I t consists not i n teaching v i r t u e and 34 t r u t h , but i n preserving the heart from vice and the mind from e r r o r . " Some i n t e r e s t i n g comments are made pertaining to curriculum f o r students: elementary science and geography might be introduced between the ages of twelve and f i f t e e n , but they must be learned from nature, not taught from books; Emile's f i r s t book was to be Robinson Crusoe. The study of h i s t o r y must be deferred u n t i l the .age of eighteen, since there can be no " r e a l knowledge of events without a knowledge of t h e i r causes and e f f e c t s , " and even then, Rousseau would have preferred 35 biography to h i s t o r y . Kessen has argued that the beginnings of c h i l d study as a 36 d i s c i p l i n e of knowledge can be traced to Rousseau. In 1912 on the bicentennial of Rousseau's b i r t h , the Frenchman Claparede defended the pr o p o s i t i o n that Emile contained, e x p l i c i t l y or by c l e a r i m p l i c a t i o n , a l l that was good and current i n c h i l d psychology. He assigned to Rousseau the invention or c r i t i c a l development of the following p r i n c i p l e s of 37 c h i l d behavior: 1. The Law of Genetic Succession: The c h i l d develops n a t u r a l l y by passing through a number of stages that succeed one another i n constant order... . 2. The Law of Genetico - Functional Exercise: This law r e a l l y implies two, which can be stated i n the follow-ing way. (a) The exercise of a function i s necessary to i t s development... . (b) The exercise of a function i s necessary to the appearance of c e r t a i n other func-tions .... 3. The Law of Functional Adaptation: That action w i l l be e l i c i t e d which serves to s a t i s f y the need or the i n t e r e s t of the moment... . 4. The Law of Functional Autonomy: The c h i l d i s not considered i n himself an imperfect being; he i s being adapted t o circumstances which are appropriate f o r him; his mental a c t i v i t y i s appropriate to his needs, and his mental l i f e i s i n t e g r a t e d . . . . 5. The Law of I n d i v i d u a l i t y : Every person d i f f e r s more or l e s s , i n p h y s i c a l and psychological c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s , from other people. Related to these c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s h i g h l i g h t e d from Emile by Claper^de, i s the most profound s h i f t to take place i n the h i s t o r y of our subject, namely, that with Rousseau we see a d e f i n i t i o n of childhood and an i s o l a t i o n of the c h i l d as a s o c i a l e n t i t y d i s c r e t e 38 unto i t s e l f . For Rousseau maintained that childhood i s n a t u r a l , of nature. Childhood i s not a time set aside for adults to f i n i s h or r e f i n e God's work, t o bring the c h i l d s t e a d i l y into c l o s e r match with adult behavior. I t i s a time important i n i t s e l f , when the behavior of the c h i l d i s appropriate to the demands of h i s needs and h i s world. Whenever one looks at a c h i l d , new born, i n school, adolescent, one sees a whole human being, properly put together f o r h i s p a r t i c u l a r time. Rousseau i n s i s t e d that the teacher and parent acknowledge the 39 i n t e g r i t y of the c h i l d . Contrary to the C a l v i n i s t s , f o r example, who emphasized the ' f a l l e n ' state of the c h i l d ' s human nature, Rousseau suggested that no great harm to the c h i l d or to society w i l l r e s u l t i f the c h i l d grows with l i t t l e adult supervision or d i r e c t i o n , f o r he w i l l become increasingly f i t to l i v e i n the world not by v i r t u e of h i s overseers, but because Nature has endowed him with an order of development that ensures his healthy growth. More than that, the t y p i c a l i n tervention of parents and teachers mar and d i s t o r t the natural succession of the changes of childhood; the c h i l d that Man r a i s e s i s almost c e r t a i n to be i n f e r i o r to the c h i l d that Nature r a i s e s . For Rousseau the c h i l d may be morally neutral, although morally sound, for he has within himself an i n e v i t a b i l i t y of development. F i n a l l y , not only i s c h i l d -hood a time of nature and the c h i l d pregnant with i n e v i t a b l e develop-ment; the r e l a t i o n of the c h i l d to the world was an active one. (Rousseau echoes Locke somewhat on t h i s point.) The c h i l d engages his environment, using i t to s u i t h i s i n t e r e s t s . Knowledge i s not an invention of adults poured i n t o w i l l i n g or unwilling vessels; i t i s an 40 engagement between the c h i l d i n nature and the natural world. Beginning (at least) with Rousseau, then, we see a divergence i n views of the c h i l d and h i s nature. The p i c t u r e of the active search-i n g c h i l d , s e t t i n g his own problems, discovering and making sense of h i s own world, stands i n contrast to the p i c t u r e of the c h i l d e s s e n t i -a l l y passive, being acted upon by overseers, and subject to the stamp of socie t y at large. Yet with Rousseau a strange dilemma i s established. On the one hand the i s o l a t i o n and recognition of the c h i l d as having an i n t e g r i t y of i t s own gave a freedom and autonomy t o the c h i l d . At the same time, and i n a subtle way perhaps only now being acknowledged, t h i s freedom and autonomy can make childhood i t s e l f a trap, a problem 41 John Holt has attempted to delineate recently i n Escape from Childhood. I f childhood has i t s own autonomy and i n t e g r i t y , at what point does the c h i l d assume the i n t e g r i t y and r e s p o n s i b i l i t y of adulthood? I t i s note-worthy that Rousseau himself had d i f f i c u l t y with the r e s p o n s i b i l i t i e s of adult l i v i n g , remaining somewhat debauched i n p r i v a t e r e l a t i o n s a l l h i s l i f e . F i n a l l y , the point can be made that although Rousseau, through h i s emphasis on the i n d i v i d u a l and the importance of Nature, i s l i n k e d with the movement known as Romanticism, he remained within the realm of the Enlightenment philosophes by h i s continuing assumption of the r a -t i o n a l i t y of man, although he may be s a i d , i n Andrews' words, "to have substituted the idea of ' o r i g i n a l innocence' f o r that of ' o r i g i n a l 43 ignorance' ." As. Cassirer remarks, Rousseau d i d not overthrow the world of Enlighten-ment, he only transferred i t s centre of gravity to another p o s i t i o n . 4 4 This discussion of Rousseau would not be complete without b r i e f mention of the theories of childhood developed by one of h i s ardent followers, Johann Pe s t a l o z z i (1746-1827), whose importance to American educators through Froebel,Montessori, and Dewey cannot be 45 overestimated. P e s t a l o z z i d i d not hesitate to u t i l i z e the views of other thinkers, but h i s greatest debt was to Rousseau. An a g r i c u l t u r a -l i s t before an educator, P e s t a l o z z i nevertheless adopted many ' r u s t i c ' metaphors i n his descriptions of c h i l d r e n . His most notable contribu-t i o n , perhaps, i s h i s concept of organic development, whereby he de-46 scribed the c h i l d as a plant. The most fundamental resemblance was, he claimed, that j u s t as i n plants growth of one p a r t — r o o t , trunk, branch or l e a v e s — t a k e s place i n harmony with the growth of a l l parts, so also growth of the c h i l d ' s many a s p e c t s — p h y s i c a l , i n t e l l e c t u a l , and moral—should be an harmonious mutual development. S i m i l a r l y , j u s t as a plan t makes immediate use of nourishment from s o i l and sun, so with the c h i l d , the a c q u i s i t i o n of knowledge should be co n d i t i o n a l t o . i i t s immediate meaningfulness and use. Another resemblance between the c h i l d and the plant i s i n the manner of growth. Just as with the plant , the c h i l d ' s development should be from within. As i n plant l i f e growth occurs not i n sudden leaps but i n slow unfolding, so a l s o the growing process of the c h i l d should be i n stages b e f i t t i n g his nature and needs. Even more strongly, P e s t a l o z z i was committed to the relevance of education 'at the knee'; f o r him, the mother i s not only the f i r s t but also the most important educator of 47 the c h i l d . The o r i g i n of P e s t a l o z z i ' s involvement with ch i l d r e n i s i n -t e r e s t i n g and provides a f i t t i n g subject with which to touch b r i e f l y on some s o c i a l contexts of ideas discussed i n t h i s chapter. P e s t a l o z z i had t r i e d h i s hand at a number of occupations before engaging i n educa-t i o n a l p r a c t i c e — i n c l u d i n g the ministry and law. For t h i r t y years he threw h i s l i f e and fortune into an experimental farm but h i s endeavours ended i n f a i l u r e and d e s t i t u t i o n . A f t e r his marriage he turned h i s house int o an orphanage, contending that "being a man who l i v e d l i k e a beggar, 48 he learned to make beggars l i v e l i k e men." These references to orphans and beggars remind us of an o f t -forgotten f a c t , that the excitement generated by the i n t e l l e c t u a l En-lightenment was l o s t on the large masses of European society who, through increases i n urban population and i n d u s t r i a l development, were reduced, 49 by and large, to l i v e s of poverty and subservience. The c h i l d r e n of these masses were also reduced to l i v e s of poverty, often sub s i s t i n g only on begging and petty felony. These conditions led to such develop-ments as the r i s e i n most European countries of Charity Schools, and 50 widespread employment of poor c h i l d r e n i n f a c t o r i e s . I t could be men-tioned, too, that the ancient p r a c t i c e s of i n f a n t i c i d e and c h i l d abandon-ment were s t i l l not uncommon, although the former was regarded as an offence punishable by d e a t h . 5 1 A point made by A r i e s i s worthy of some elaboration, for i t s character i s one that has emerged very powerfully i n the modern s o c i a l drama. In the eighteenth century, with the r i s e of the new middle classes, r a d i c a l changes i n family l i f e began to occur, p a r t i c u l a r l y with the increasing ownership of pr i v a t e property and housing. More and more the 64 family began to hold society at a distance, to push back beyond a s t e a d i l y extending zone of p r i v a t e l i f e . The organization of the house i t s e l f a l t e r e d i n conformity with t h i s new desire to keep the world at v 52 bay. I t became, i n Aries' term, the "modern type of house" with rooms which were independent of each other. This i n turn had an e f f e c t on patterns of family communication. While family members s t i l l communi-cated with each other, people were no longer obliged, as i n e a r l i e r days of one-room dwellings, to speak to one another' or make the same personal adjustments required i n the more communal s t y l e (see p i c t u r e on follow-ing page).* In France and I t a l y , the word chambre began to be used i n opposition to the word s a l l e , whereas hitherto they had been more or l e s s synonymous. In England the word 'room' was kept as a general term, but a p r e f i x was added to give p r e c i s i o n : the dining room, the bedroom, e t c . ) . ^ 4 This s p e c i a l i z a t i o n of rooms, i n the middle c l a s s and n o b i l i t y to begin with, was c e r t a i n l y one of the greatest changes i n everyday l i f e . In a sense, while i t s a t i s f i e d a new desire for privacy, i t also r e f l e c t e d a new sense of i s o l a t i o n . Families became reduced to parents and chil d r e n , 55 a family from which servents, c l i e n t s and f r i e n d s were excluded. The in c r e a s i n g l y widespread use of nicknames corresponded to a greater f a m i l i -a r i t y and also to a desire to address one another d i f f e r e n t l y from strangers, and thus to emphasize by a sort of hermetic language the s o l i d a r i t y of parents and c h i l d r e n and the distance separating them from other people. *A f i n e example of the i n s i d e of a l a t e seventeenth century home i s pro-vided by Greuse's painting Accordee de V i l l a g e , ^ 3 showing three genera-tions of family gathered i n the one c e n t r a l lower l e v e l room. I t i s i n t e r e s t i n g to note the depiction of c h i l d r e n . In no way do they occupy any c e n t r a l p o s i t i o n , but are more l i k e passive witnesses to the adult drama. The i s o l a t i o n of the nuclear family, i n conjunction with a number of other fa c t o r s , had more important e f f e c t s . On the one hand i t brought parents into a closer r e l a t i o n s h i p with t h e i r c h i l d r e n than had perhaps been the case heretofore. As we saw, i n the Middle Ages the custom was f o r children to be sent to the homes of strangers f o r the learning of 'manners.1 But the return of the c h i l d to the home gave the seventeenth and eighteenth century family a new p r i n c i p a l c h a r a c t e r i s t i c . The c h i l d became an indispensable element of everyday l i f e , and parents began to worry with increasing concern about h i s edu-56 cation, career and future. He was not by any means the pivo t of the 57 whole family system, but he had become a much more important character. Aries suggests that from the eighteenth century onwards, the health and education of t h e i r c h i l d r e n would become the ch i e f preoccupations of a l l parents. Aries contrasts the family of the Enlightenment era with the modern family, i n some ways cut o f f from the world, and a haven from i t s demands. Furthermore, not only i s the family i s o l a t e d , but by strange irony the c h i l d himself has become i s o l a t e d again by v i r t u e of the energy invested i n helping ch i l d r e n r i s e i n the world, i n d i v i d u a l l y and without 58 any c o l l e c t i v e ambition. But that i s another subject. F i n a l l y , t h i s chapter can draw to a close with a b r i e f d i s -cussion of the influence of Charles Darwin on the evolution of modern c h i l d study. The e m p i r i c i s t philosophy of Locke made the c h i l d i n t e r e s t -ing as an object. o f : e p i s t e m o l o g i c a l study, just as the educational inno-vations of Rousseau and P e s t a l o z z i made him i n t e r e s t i n g as an object of pedagogical study. But the theories of these men and t h e i r proponents were to be somewhat d i f f u s e u n t i l the c h i l d became a f i t object for ' s c i e n t i f i c ' study. The necessary transformation—the transformation of the problem of human development from speculation to empirical anal-59 y s i s — w a s to come with Darwin (1809-1892). There are several ways i n which Darwin's speculation had 60 profound influence not only on natural science but also s o c i a l science. In the f i r s t place, the notion of species evolution gave a mechanism i n f u l l ' s c i e n t i f i c ' dress for the notions of p e r f e c t i b i l i t y developed during the Enlightenment. Darwin provided a r a t i o n a l e f o r a man's bound-le s s hopes and expectations. Just as animal l i f e had grown i n a natural way from protozoan to r a t i o n a l being, so society had grown from savagery to s o p h i s t i c a t i o n , and would so continue. In the hands of the p r a c t i c a l s o c i a l Darwinians, t h i s doctrine d i d not n e c e s s a r i l y lead to greater i n -t e r e s t i n the c h i l d , but i t d i d become an a r t i c l e of f a i t h through much of the West that evolution, developing and developed by science and i n -61 dustry, would bring society to i t s natural f u l f i l l m e n t . On a basic l e v e l , too, Darwinism was an i n d i r e c t i n v i t a t i o n to look for the signs of man i n animal l i f e , an innovation that assured Darwin the enmity of many prominent theologians and influenced so strongly the formation of, for example, empirical psychology. As Kessen states i t : Darwin put psychology into the animal and made the comparative study of mind a wholesome and permitted occupation... The r e s u l t was, however, that the study of animal behavior s h i f t e d u n t i l , i n mid-twentieth century, the questions about mind that i n t r i g u e d Darwin were abandoned, but the systematic study of the animal was kept. Arthur Koestler has described modern experimental psychology as "Ratomorphism," a reference to that d i s c i p l i n e ' s contemporary obsession with r a t s . I t i s beginning with Darwin, then, that we see f o r the f i r s t time a ' s c i e n t i f i c ' value assigned to childhood. From the p u b l i c a t i o n of the Or i g i n of the Species to the end of the nineteenth century, there was a p r o l i f e r a t i o n of works drawing p a r a l l e l s between animal and c h i l d , between p r i m i t i v e man and c h i l d , between e a r l y human h i s t o r y and c h i l d . Again, as Kessen puts i t The developing human being was seen as a natural museum of human phylogeny and history; by c a r e f u l observation of the in f a n t and c h i l d , one could see the descent of man.6-* In summary to t h i s chapter we may say that the h i s t o r y of the c h i l d from the seventeenth to the ea r l y twentieth centuries i s l i n k a b l e with the s o c i a l and i n t e l l e c t u a l r e v o l u t i o n associated with the r i s e of science. This includes as well as the emergence of b e l i e f i n rati o n a l i s m and natural law, the reactions against such developments as r e f l e c t e d i n the thought of men l i k e Hume and Rousseau. For both groups, however, a fundamental by-product of Enlightenment thought was the gradual de-m y s t i f i c a t i o n or s e c u l a r i z a t i o n of man's perception of h i s nature and place i n the world. This i s not to say that theology, f o r example, be-came unimportant i n i t s own r i g h t , but only that men no longer saw i t as a necessary concern for t h e i r present everyday p u r s u i t s . On a fundamental l e v e l the dynamics brought i n t o play during t h i s period involve the tension between reason and i n t u i t i o n , r a t i o n a l i t y and f a i t h , i n t e l l e c t and emotion, as these d e f i n i t i o n s impinged upon man's descriptions of himself i n r e l a t i o n to h i s world. This tension provided the context i n which c h i l d r e n too were discussed. I t i s a tension not resolved even today as the debates i n the l i t e r a t u r e of c h i l d study s t i l l r e f l e c t uncertainty as to such questions as the c h i l d " s basic nature (innocent, autonomous, responsible?) or the adult's r o l e i n the upbringing of the young. Further, i n t h i s period we witness a clearer' i s o l a t i o n of the c h i l d and childhood as subjects f i t f o r study i n t h e i r own r i g h t , so that by the dawn of the twentieth century we see for the f i r s t time the c h i l d given a ' s c i e n t i f i c ' value. The long range con-sequences of t h i s development are yet to be known. FOOTNOTES "'"David J . Rothman, "Docuemnts i n Search of a Hist o r i a n , " Journal of I n t e r d i s c i p l i n a r y History, v o l . I I , No. 2, Autumn 1971, p. 369. 2 Carlton J . H. Hayes, Modern Europe to 1870, New York, Macmillan, 1970, pp. 377-378. 3 See H. F. Kearney, "Puritanism and Science : Problems of D e f i n i -t i o n , " Past and Present, No. 31, July 1965; and Theodore K. Rabb, "Religion and the Rise of Modern Science," Past and Present, No. 31, July 1965. 4 Quoted i n Norman Hampson, A C u l t u r a l History of the Enlighten- ment, New York, Pantheon Books, 1968, p. 19. "*Ibid., p. 21. ^Ibid., p. 27. 7 See B r i t i s h Columbia S o c i a l Studies Assessment. Summary Report, V i c t o r i a , The Queen's Pr i n t e r , 1977, and "High Schools Under F i r e , " Time, November 14, 1971, pp. 58-65. 8 Hampson, op. c i t . , p. 35. 9 Stuart Andrews, Eighteenth Century Europe, London, Longmans, 1965, p. 53. 1 0 W i l l i a m Kessen, The C h i l d , New York, Wiley 1965, p. 58. ''""'"John Locke, Essay Concerning Human Understanding, London, Dent, 1961, p. 5. 12 Sarah F. Campbell, Piaget Sampler, New York, Wiley, 1976, pp. 128 f f . 13 Hampson, op. c i t . , p. 39. 14 Andrews, op. c i t . , p. 66. "*"^ John Locke, Some Thoughts Concerning Education, London, National Society's Depository, 1920, p. 81. 16 T... Ibid., P- 81. 1 7 L . 3 Ibid., P- 96. 1 8 I b i d . , P- 97. 1 9 I b i d . , pp. 109-112. 20 Kessen, op. c i t . , p. 59. 21 Hampson, l o c : c i t . 22 Andrews, op. c i t . , p. 69. 23 W.H.G. Armytage, " S c i e n t i f i c Discoveries i n the Service of Man," i n A l f r e d Cobban, The Eighteenth Century, London, Thames and Hudson, 1969, p. 109. 24 Andrews, op. c i t . pp. 81-2. 25 David Hume, A Treatise of Human Nature, v o l . 1, London, Dent, pp. 7 2 6 I b i d . , pp. 94-5. 27 Ib i d . , p. 95. 28 Andrews, op. c i t . , p. 83. 29 Hume, op. c i t . , p. 127. Ibid. 31 Quoted i n W. Boyd, ed. , Emile for Today, New York, Hememann, 1966, p. 13. 32 Ibid., p. 28. 33 Ibid . 34 Ib i d . , p. 41. 3 5 I b i d . , pp. 107 f f . 3^Kessen, op. c i t . , p. 72. 37 Claparede i n Kessen, op. c i t . , pp. 72-73. 38 Kessen, i b i d . , p. 73. 39 Ibid ., p. 75. 4 ^ I b i d . , p. 73. 4 1John Holt, Escape from Childhood, New York, Ballantyne Books, 1974. 72 42 H . N i c h o l s o n , The Age o f R e a s o n , New Y o r k , C o n s t a b l e , I 9 6 0 , p . 167. 43 Andrews , p p . c i t . , p . 89 . 44 E . C a s s i r e r , The P h i l o s o p h y o f t h e E n l i g h t e n m e n t , E n g . t r a n s . , B o s t o n , B e a c o n P r e s s , 1955, p . 182. 45 K e s s e n , o p . c i t . , p . 97 . 46 M. N a k o s t e e n , The H i s t o r y and P h i l o s o p h y o f E d u c a t i o n , New Y o r k , R o n a l d P r e s s , 1965, p p . 335-336 . 47 K e s s e n , l o c . c i t . 4 8 N a k o s t e e n , o p . c i t . , p . 335. 49 Olwyn H u f t o n , "The R i s e o f t h e P e o p l e , " i n A . C o b b a n , o p . c i t . , p . 296 . 5 ° I b i d . , p p . 287 , 308. 5 1 I b i d . , p . 302. 52 v. P h i l i p p e A r i e s , C e n t u r i e s o f C h i l d h o o d , R. B a l d i c k , t r . , New Y o r k , V i n t a g e B o o k s , 1962, p . 398. 53 L . D . E t t l i n g e r , "The R o l e o f t h e A r t i s t i n S o c i e t y , " i n C o b b a n , o p . c i t . , p p . 2 3 8 - 9 . 54 A r i e s , o p . c i t . , p . 399. 55 I b i d . , p . 400. 56 I b i d . , p . 403 . L o c . c i t . 5 8 I b i d . , p . 404 . 59 W. K e s s e n , The C h i l d , New Y o r k , W i l e y , 1965, p . 112. 60 F o r an e x c e l l e n t d i s c u s s i o n o f D a r w i n " s i n f l u e n c e on t h e r i s e o f s o c i a l s c i e n c e , see J o h n E . G r e e n e , D a r w i n and t h e Modern W o r l d V i e w , K i n g s p o r t , T e n n . , K i n g s p o r t P r e s s , 1961, p p . 8 8 - 1 2 8 . 61 . G r e e n e , i b i d . , p . 96. 62 K e s s e n , o p . c i t . , p . 114. 73 Arthur Koestler, "Rationalism and Ratomorphism," Dunning Trust Lectures, Queen's University, Kingston, 1968. 64 See, f o r example, A. F. Chamberlain, The C h i l d : A Study i n the  Evolution of Man, London, Walter Scott, 1901. 65 Kessen, op. c i t . , p. 115. to ) Chapter Five THE MODERN CONTEXT This discussion of foundations of western childhood must end with Darwin and the opening of the twentieth century. In t h i s era c h i l d study has p r o l i f e r a t e d to a degree heretofore unknown. Coupled with the increasing s p e c i a l i z a t i o n and f l o u r i s h i n g of modern academic d i s c i p l i n e s , within almost a l l of them can be found studies focusing p a r t i c u l a r l y on c h i l d r e n . Any attempt to understand contemporary c h i l d -hood through t h i s material would be a major undertaking i n i t s e l f . 1 I t i s for t h i s reason that a "Bibliographic P r o f i l e " has been compiled i n an appendix i n order not only to give a representative r e f l e c t i o n of the work c a r r i e d on i n t h i s f i e l d i n recent years, but a l s o to a i d future study. One of the d i s t u r b i n g features about much recent research on childhood i s the narrowness of i t s fundamental v i s i o n . I t i s almost as i f there i s a c h i l d of the h i s t o r i a n , a c h i l d of the psychologist, a c h i l d of the s o c i o l o g i s t , anthropologist, or medical researcher. Reigel has noted t h i s tendency. He has argued, for example, that the f a i l i n g of c h i l d psychology as a f i e l d of research has been the assump-2 t i o n that the c h i l d grows up i n a " s o c i o - c u l t u r a l vacuum." This has been o f f s e t to some degree by the p s y c h o - h i s t o r i c a l school l e d by De Mause, Hunt, and others who, advancing from Erikson, have attempted to l i n k psychological paradigms with h i s t o r i c a l study. Yet t h i s ap-proach has d i f f i c u l t i e s , too, leading to a sort of reductionism whereby 74 h i s t o r i c a l movements are interpreted as 'nothing but' re-enactments of the basic themes of Freud's Totem and Taboo or Erikson's " C r i s e s , " 3 and that the urges of mankind, both i n terms of b e l i e f and action, i n e v i t -. 4 ably assume a neurotic form. C e r t a i n l y t h i s i s De Mause's weakness. His t r a c i n g of the evolution of childhood i s determined by the b e l i e f that the h i s t o r y of the c h i l d i s a h i s t o r y of abuse, so that while on the one hand h i s work serves u s e f u l l y to contextualize and temper current d i s -cussions about c h i l d abuse, he feeds t h e i r f i r e at the same time. I t i s notable that most works about childhood proceeding from a psychological framework—even the p s y c h o h i s t o r i c a l s t u d i e s — 5 have neglected Jung's reminder that psychology began as meta-physics. The p h i l o s o p h i c a l roots of the science should prevent us from regard-ing psychological formulations as dogma for at best they are i n t e r p r e -t i v e theories which attempt to illuminate human experiences rather than contain them. I t i s not-so-ironic that a c h i l d psychologist (Kessen) has been a leader i n putting b e l i e f s about childhood i n t o the context of the h i s t o r y of p h i l o s o p h y ^ — a trend developed further by Skolnick, 7 a research psychologist. This emphasis on h i s t o r y i s c r u c i a l , f or even philosophy f i n d s i t s f u l l meaning only i n reference to a time and a place. As Jean Bodin put i t i n the seventeenth century ...philosophy dies of i n a n i t i o n i n the midst of i t s precepts when i t i s not v e r i f i e d by h i s t o r y . I t i s for these reasons that the attempt i n t h i s t h e s i s has been to paint broad strokes, or at l e a s t provide a background s e t t i n g f o r examining the contemporary scene. I t i s an o r i e n t a t i o n i n s p i r e d by A r i e s , himself the 'prime mover' of current i n t e r e s t i n the subject, 76 who called for a broad vision: ... today...we see l i f e chiefly as a biological phenomenon, as a situation in society. Yet we say 'such i s Life" to express at once our resig-nation and our conviction that there i s , outside biology and sociology, something which has no name, but which s t i r s us, which we look for in the news items of the papers or about which we say: 'That's l i f e l i k e . ' Life in this case i s a drama... .^ FOOTNOTES A p a r t i c u l a r l y i n t e r e s t i n g of such an attempt i s Arlene Skolnick 1 a r t i c l e , "The Limits of Childhood, Conceptions of C h i l d Development and S o c i a l Context," Law and Contemporary Problems, v o l . 39, No. 3, Summer 1975, pp. 38-77. 2 J. Reigel, "An Epitaph f o r a Paradigm," Human Development, v o l . 16, No. 3, 1973, p. 48. 3 Kenneth Keniston, "Psychological Development and H i s t o r i c a l Change," Journal of I n t e r d i s c i p l i n a r y History, v o l . 2, No. 3, Autumn 1971, p. 330. 4 Lloyd de Mause, "The Evolution of Childhood," i n de Mause, The  History of Childhood, New York, Harper and Row, 1975, pp. 1-73. 5C. G. Jung, "The Psychology of the C h i l d Archetype," i n C. G. Jung and C. Kerenyi, Essays on a Science of Mythology, Princeton University Press, 1969, pp. 70-71. 6 Kessen, op. c i t . 7 Skolnick, op. c i t . 8 Quoted i n M. L. Bush, Renaissance, Reformation and the Outer  World, London, Blandford Press, 1967, p. 302. y \ P h i l i p p e A r i e s , Centuries of Childhood, New Uork, Vintage Books, 1962, p. 23. Chapter Six CONCLUSION This t h e s i s has been an attempt to reveal how views about c h i l d r e n have varied i n the course of Western h i s t o r y , and to provide a background from which those involved with c h i l d r e n can r e f l e c t upon t h e i r assumptions. As we have seen, adult b e l i e f s about c h i l d r e n are usually t i e d s i g n i f i c a n t l y to adult b e l i e f s about the meaning and pur-pose of l i f e generally, so that the c h i l d i s perceived within a f a i r l y broad o n t o l o g i c a l context. For example, i n the period of Roman ascend-ency, ch i l d r e n were often associated with adult concerns f o r property and paternal recognition and pr a c t i c e s of i n f a n t i c i d e , exposure and the s e l l i n g of chi l d r e n were r e l a t e d to a need to ensure the a b i l i t y of adults to f u l f i l t h e i r d e s t i n i e s . Some P a t r i s t i c w r i t e r s , however, i n s i s t e d that the world was not man's ultimate home, that a l l humans shared equality under God, and that therefore children's r i g h t s v i s - a - v i s adults should be safeguarded. For the Renaissance humanists, human nature was to be f u l -f i l l e d both c u l t u r a l l y and r e l i g i o u s l y through becoming steeped i n the writings of c l a s s i c a l Greece and Rome. Hence, as f a r as chi l d r e n were concerned, i t became in c r e a s i n g l y important for them to be educated i n the c l a s s i c a l mould, f o r thereby would t h e i r appreciation of both God and the world be enriched. For the Reformers, however, human nature was to be understood most profoundly i n terms of man's complete 78 79 and utter dependence upon divine graciousness. Hence concern for c h i l d r e n became expressed i n terms of that ultimate d e f i n i t i o n . With the Enlightenment and the r i s e of science emerged a se-c u l a r i z a t i o n of adult endeavor and a b e l i e f i n rationalism, natural law and optimism regarding human progress. Within t h i s context concerns for ch i l d r e n were expressed i n terms of childhood being a time of construc-t i o n (e.g., Locke) and/or natural f u l f i l l m e n t (e.g., Rousseau). By the twentieth century childhood had been assigned a d e f i n i t e s c i e n t i f i c value and became a f i t domain for empirical study. In recent years, the entrenchment of t h i s l a s t view i n the modern consciousness has become incre a s i n g l y suspect as severely l i m i t i n g the v i s i o n of those involved i n c h i l d study. 81 BIBLIOGRAPHY Andrews, S. Eighteenth Century Europe. London : Longmans, 1965. Aries, Philippe. Centuries of Childhood. R. Baldick, t r . New York : Vintage Books, 1962. Armytage, W.H.G. "Scientific Discoveries in the Service of Man," i n Alfred Cobban (Ed.) The Eighteenth Century. London : Thames and Hudson, 1969, pp. 108-110. Block, M. Feudal Society. L. A. Morgan, t r . Chicago : University Press, 1964. Boyd, W. (Ed.) Emile for Today. New York : Heinemann, 1966. Bremner, R. (Ed.) Children and Youth in America : A Documentary History, Vol. 1. Cambridge : Harvard University Press, 1970. British Columbia Social Studies Assessment. 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