es and the striving and the triumph, to the end that they may
appreciate, however feebly, the heritage that is theirs.
Here again it is not the facts as such that are important, but the
emotional appreciation of the facts, and to this end, the coloring must
be rich, the pictures vivid, the contrasts sharply drawn. The successful
teacher of history has the gift of making real the past. His pupils
struggle with Columbus against a frightened, ignorant, mutinous crew;
they toil with the Pilgrim fathers to conquer the wilderness; they
follow the bloody trail of the Deerfield victims through the forest to
Canada; they too resist the encroachments of the Mother Country upon
their rights as English citizens; they suffer through the long winter at
Valley Forge and join with Washington in his midnight vigils; they
rejoice at Yorktown; they dream with Jefferson and plead with Webster;
their hearts are fired with the news of Sumter; they clinch their teeth
at Bull Run; they gather hope at Donelson, but they shudder at Shiloh;
they struggle through the Wilderness with Grant; tired but triumphant,
they march home from Appomattox; and through it all, in virtue of the
limitless capacities of vicarious experience, they have shared the
agonies of Lincoln.
Professor Mace, in his essay on _Method in History_, tells us that there
are two distinct phases to every historical event. These are the event
itself and the human feeling that brought it forth. It has seemed to me
that there are three phases,--the event itself, the feeling that brought
it forth, and the feeling to which it gave birth; for no event is
historically important unless it has transformed in some way the ideals
and standards of the people,--unless it has shifted, in some way, their
point of view, and made them act differently from the way in which they
would have acted had the event never occurred. One leading purpose in
the teaching of history is to show how ideals have been transformed, how
we have come to have standards different from those that were once held.
Many of our national ideals have their roots deep down in English
history. Not long ago I heard a seventh-grade class discussing the Magna
Charta. It was a class in American history, and yet the events that the
pupils had been studying occurred three centuries before the discovery
of America. They had become familiar with the long list of abuses that
led to the granting of the charter. They could tell very glib
|