86 M. J. KENDALL, ESQ., M.A., ON THE TEACHER's VOCATION. 



the War, points out that " civilization is essentially morality," 

 and we shall agree that history is little more than a story of the 

 progress of civilization. History, therefore, is the study of 

 ethics. Since, then, we cannot teach history or science, or, 

 indeed, any subject, without dwelling upon moral questions, 

 let all teachers admit their responsibihty. Secondly, then, I say 

 to men who question their vocation, do not join the community 

 of St. Peter unless you are content to shoulder moral responsi- 

 bihty and to accept the position of a Pastor Agnorum. 



There is a third qualification for a novice or aspirant : he 

 must be prepared for some sacrifice. Pisanello's beautiful 

 medal of Vittorino bears on its reverse side a symbol of devotion 

 and sacrifice, the pehcan feeding her young. His own gentle 

 ascetic face tells the same story. Thousands of men have 

 laboured for a trifling wage and ignored all social distinc- 

 tion, and., though the last few months have brought them 

 a higher wage, a reasonable pension and, as a result — Heaven 

 save the mark — some measure of social distinction, the 

 pelican will still, for many, be the reverse of their medal. 

 Listen to the voice of that eloquent old Scot, Mr. D'Arcy Thomp- 

 son, whose words have lately been disinterred : "In Scotland, 

 also, the profession of teaching, though not sufficiently honoured 

 from a social point of view, is rightly considered as ' specific,' 

 and calling for special quahfications." Speaking of " Adam 

 — Canon of our High School — and Carmichael of our own Schola 

 Nova," be says, " They put their hands to the plough, these 



simple men ; and there was no looking back They all 



hved lives laborious, useful and honourable. From dawn 

 to sunset of their day of toil they sowed the seed, or drave the 

 plough, or brake with harrows the obstructing glebe. And when at 

 last it was growing dark, these husbandmen dismissed their 

 little reapers and gleaners ; and gat them home wearied and 

 turned to ; and fell on sleep. No foretaste of earthly glory 

 sweetened the bitterness of the last cup. From modest homes 

 they were borne, unnoticed, to modest graves. But the statues 

 of these Cincinnatus teachers stand, not un wreathed with laurel, 

 in the Valhalla of great and good and single-hearted school- 

 masters." These sentences from the Day Dreams of a Scotch 

 Dominie, written half a century ago, may seem inappropriate 

 to modern England : yet they convey an essential and not, I 

 think, an ephemeral truth. A teacher, like the member of 

 another calling, " the only one that in the dignity of usefulness 



