Escolar Documentos
Profissional Documentos
Cultura Documentos
1, 29± 47
William E. Marsden
Department of Education, University of Liverpool,
19 Abercromby Square, Liverpool L69 7ZB, UK
History of Education ISSN 0046± 760X print/ISSN 1464± 5130 online # 2000 Taylor & Francis Ltd
http://www.tandf.co.uk/journals/tf/0046760X.ht ml
30 W. E. Marsden
The assertion that history and geography textbooks have exercised a negative
in¯ uence on attitudes towards other countries is of long standing. It manifestly
derives from conceptions of nationhood, national character and national identity,
which have in turn spilled over into aggressive forms of nationalism, and have
injected their `poisons’ into social and political attitudes, and thence into the educa-
tional system. The terms associated with national feeling tend to be used loosely and
interchangeably. As Smith has de® ned it, national identity embodies some concept of
political community, including common institutions, a single code of rights and
duties, and a social space and territory.10 The peculiar features and qualities ascribed
to people of di erent nationalities have long been subject to blatant stereotyping,
and categorized as national character. Hagendoorn and Linssen have pointed to the
`widespread and irresistible inclination to attribute personality traits to certain
nationalities’.11 Early de® nitions of geography covered not only situation and extent,
climate, soils and productions, government and commerce of nations, but also `the
genius and manners of the inhabitants’. 12 So geography textbooks included not only
the facts of physical and commercial geography, but also pronouncements on
national character, accepted as equally authoritative. In the post-independence
period in the United States conscious e orts were made to fashion a uni® ed set of
cultural standards for republican Americans, with a call to establish an `Association
of American Patriots’ geared to `forming a national character’. 13 Out of concepts of
nationhood, national identity and national character has sprung the frequently
malign force of nationalism, de® ned by Smith as `an ideological movement for
attaining and maintaining autonomy, unity and identity on behalf of a population
deemed by its members to constitute an actual or ``potential’’ nation’.14
Educational systems have often been charged with injecting the `poison’ of
aggressive nationalism and thus of provoking cross-national con¯ ict. An alternative
view would be that it is rather the nationalist spirit that has impregnated schooling
and the textbooks used.15 Schlesinger, however, squarely attached the blame to
education:
Among the possible causes of war, education holds a particular and signi® cant place . . . for in so far
as it embodies dangerous nationalistic prejudices, it is a means of disseminating them constantly to
all the people. It is the seed of international discord for both present and future generations.16
Another American writer, J. F. Scott, was equally critical of its e ects. `The noxious
weeds of racial egotism and racial antagonism grow easily in a soil thus fertilized. . . .
It may be that nationalistic education is the chief underlying cause of the war’,
though he also held the view that education could be used e ectively to promote
peace. 17 There is an extensive literature on the relative proportions of history texts
In the 40 years between the Franco-Prussian War and the First World War, British
opinion adjusted itself to the temper of the times in respect of its attitudes towards
German education. For many years Germany had been lauded as a fountainhead of
progressive ideas, such as the kindergarten movement, and the Prussian system
extolled as a model of e ciency, helped by a more favourable allocation of national
resources to education. The priority it gave to technical education was seen as a
threat to British industry. 33 In textbooks and children’s literature, our common
Teuton inheritance was stressed. As diplomatic relations cooled, however, so too
did textbook support. The spirit of admiration, kinship and emulation was inevitably
terminated by the outbreak of the First World War.34 By then, British commentators
were writing scathingly of the war-mongering alleged to be taking place in German
schools. Yet nationalistic textbook material had equally long been present in British
materials. Starr, for example, identi® ed `the Kipling attitude’ as the prevailing tone
of most traditional history textbook writing in Britain, exempli® ed in the Kipling
and Fletcher School History of England, which identi® ed the British as God’s chosen
people, and romanticized war. `To serve King and country in the Army is the second
best profession for Englishmen of all classes; to serve in the navy I suppose we all
admit is the best.’ 35
Smarting from defeat and loss of territory as a result of the Franco-Prussian
War, attitudes towards Germany in French textbooks were generally much more
intemperate than those of the British, no hesitation being evident about instilling in
children a spirit of hatred and revenge against the former enemy. Scott, although
overtly antipathetic to nationalism in education, nevertheless justi® ed France’s incul-
cation of hostility towards her `adamantine foe’ on the `rational’ ground of its loss of
36 J. F. Scott, Patriots in the Making: What America can learn from France and Germany (New York,
1916), 72± 5.
37 Ibid., 173± 4.
38 Ibid., 186± 8.
39 R. S. Betts, `A campaign for patriotism in the elementary school curriculum: Lord Meath 1892± 1916’,
History of Education Society Bulletin, 46 (1990), 40± 4.
40 Anon., `The League of Young Patriots’, Teacher’s World (19 August 1914), 447.
41 J. W. Adamson, `Education and the war’, School World (May 1915), 161± 2.
42 Anon., `Our schools and the trenches’, The Schoolmaster (2 September 1916), 261.
43 F. M. McMurry, The Geography of the War and the Peace Treaties (New York, 1920).
34 W. E. Marsden
the importance of the war merited its pervasion as a cross-curricular theme. Teachers
World in August 1914 initiated a series of informative articles on `The Great War’
which, designed to meet the national crisis now faced, was billed as `of the highest
educational importance’. Sub-topics ranged from `What can the Children do for
Britain’, to `Why Belgium had to Fight’, and `Economic Dishes for Wartime’.44
The Times produced a supplement on `War and Education’ in 1916, which suggested
that the topic of war, on the successful conclusion of which the future of the race
depended, should be approached through the whole curriculum, and not through
individual subjects.45
Inter-war imperialism
The prewar concept of a benign British imperial type, asserted as being based on `ties
of a ection’, and `free from the weakness of the military empires of old’, 46 was
maintained both during and after the Great War by, for example, the Boy Scout
Movement, the British Association, and various imperial lobbies. A British
Association committee, for example, which included among its members Baden-
Powell, produced a report on citizenship education in which the British Empire
was de® ned as `the greatest secular organization on earth’, and the British type of
patriotism as the surest route to promoting international citizenship. 47
Empire worship was reinforced by the British Empire exhibition at Wembley in
1924, and nourished by recurring textual, pictorial and cartographic exempli® cation
in the teachers’ press, one topical event covered being the Prince of Wales’s current
voyage round the sea-girt countries of the Empire. As in the 1890s, however, the
implicit xenophobia of imperial zealots came under attack. Bertrand Russell, for
example, was critical of the handling of the case of a Coventry teacher who had
been disciplined because he refused to salute the ¯ ag on Empire Day, on the grounds
that glori® cation of country was not conducive to international goodwill. 48 Another
writer deplored the frequent use of military men to give the main address on school
speech days. As one progressive head teacher noted, on occasions there was nothing
in the address to indicate that anything of merit existed outside the British Empire.49
Children were informed that if they followed in the footsteps of the older generation
who had made sacri® ces in the war, there would be `no need to worry about red and
yellow perils’. 50
Following the Great War, the Board of Education was guarded about the trend
that had been generated towards greater foreign coverage in history lessons, insisting
that `our ® rst concern will be with those conditions which immediately surround
us’. 51 The Historical Association also agreed that it remained important to empha-
size imperial history and knowledge of the national past, at the same time paying
more attention than hitherto to recent European history.52 History teachers in the
44 Anon., `The Great War’, Teacher’s World (12 August 1914), frontispiece. See also `Education and the
war’, The School World, 16 (October 1914), 361± 2, and similar articles in other teachers’ journals.
45 Anon., `The war from the school-room window’, Supplement to The Times (14 January 1916), 2.
46 F. H. Hayward, Day and Evening Schools: Their Management and Organisation, London, 1910), 368.
47 British Association, Interim Report of the Committee on Training in Citizenship (London, 1920).
48 B. Russell, Education and the Social Order (London, 1932), 136.
49 W. B. Curry, Education in a Changing World (New York, 1935), 114.
50 W. E. Marsden, An Anglo-Welsh Teaching Dynasty: The Adams Family from the 1840s to the 1930s
(London, 1997), 252.
51 Board of Education, Report on the Teaching of History: Educational Pamphlets, No.37 (London, 1923),
17.
52 K. Robbins, `History, the Historical Association and the national past’, History, 66 (1981), 423.
Nationalism, propaganda and war and peace 35
public schools generally continued to champion British history. Countering the
traditionalists was H. G. Wells, a well-known protagonist for world history and
League of Nations teaching, commenting derisively that while professional teachers
had been successful in keeping his Outline of History, which covered the whole of
mankind, out of the schools it was enormously popular with the general public. 53
71 L. Pine, `The dissemination of Nazi ideology and family values through school textbooks’, History of
Education, 25 (1996), 93.
72 P. Hartig, `YouthÐ master of Germany: even school journeys have a ``national-political’’ importance’,
Teacher’s World (12 June 1935), 411.
73 C. Kamenetsky, Children’s L iterature in Hitler’s Germany (Athens, OH, 1984), xiii± xiv.
74 E. Mann, School for Barbarians: Education under the Nazis (London, 1939), 40.
75 W. H. G. Armytage, The German In¯ uence on English Education (London, 1969), 87.
76 Mann, op. cit. (1939), 39± 41.
77 Translated by H. L. Childs, The Nazi Primer: O cial Handbook for Schooling the Hitler Y outh (New
York, 1938), xxxiii.
78 Mann, op. cit. (1939), 46.
38 W. E. Marsden
matter and the method were comparable, whether the mission was nationalist or
internationalist, the promotion of war or peace. While proponents of peace educa-
tion might be more reticent about using propaganda techniques than those of
nationalist instruction, in practice, if not in the rhetoric, the di erence was of degree
rather than of kind. As Hayward discerned, the indoctrination taking place in
Fascist countries was their version of `Education for Citizenship’, though he
accepted that this version was an `exaggerated’ one. 79
In time of war, or preparation for war, it was not easy for those preaching
tolerance towards other nations to justify their case publicly. In these circumstances,
educational scruples were conveniently forgotten. `In days of national propaganda
and agitation we are tempted to cut the Gordion knot with little hesitation; in our
zeal for the ``national purpose’’ we have no inclination to avoid even the most
negative form of ``national animosity’’.’ 80 Part and parcel of allied propaganda,
which seeped into the educational literature, were oft-repeated and mostly bogus
stories of German atrocities, including the mutilation of children, cruci® xion of
soldiers, and even of the Kaiser using the dead bodies of his soldiers for soap making
in an `Establishment for the Utilization of Corpses’, the latter an o cial invention
widely believed at the time in Britain and the United States.81
In school textbooks, especially those of France, a campaign of vili® cation of
things German followed both the Franco-Prussian and First World Wars, counter-
pointing German `atrocities’ and French `heroism’. 82 A ¯ avour of the in¯ ammatory
material prevalent is exempli® ed in this extract from a postwar French history
primer:
Remember, little French children, that it was Germany which attacked France and forced her to
wage the Great War. Remember that, for more than four years, Belgium and northern France were
occupied by the Germans. Our enemies behaved like barbarians. . . . Cities were destroyed by them,
and villages razed. . . . The Germans committed atrocious crimes, mutilating or killing children,
shooting women and old men. With their airplanes they bombarded our cities, causing numerous
deaths. Their submarines sank merchant-ships and even hospital-ships. Conquered, the Germans
asked for peace. Our soldiers went into their country to occupy it, but they behaved humanely,
respecting the inhabitants and their goods. Eternal shame to Germany! Eternal glory to sweet
France and her Allies!83
During the First World War, British teachers’ journals periodically reproduced anti-
German horror stories that appeared in national newspapers and other sources,
under such headings as `Hate Training in German Schools’ 84 and `Hate’s
Kindergarten’.85 A letter from a German schoolboy to his father, serving in
Flanders, was obtained by the Daily Express, and in turn printed in The
Schoolmaster. He had been given an essay entitled `How Can Germany Get
Mastery of the Seas and Lay Down the Law to England’, and had won a prize
for his scheme of blockading enemy coasts with Zeppelins. The boy informed his
father that every incident of the war would be remembered and our enemies made to
su er for it. England had been at the root of the war, he had been told, and `hatred
86 Anon., `In German schools today `, The Schoolmaster (2 January 1915), 16.
87 Anon., `Liverpool scholars on naval warfare’, The Schoolmaster (2 February 1918), 147.
88 Anon., `Handwork and the war’, The Schoolmistress (26 November 1914), 154.
89 Anon., `War Savings Associations in schools’, The Schoolmaster (7 September 1918), 228.
90 Mann, op. cit. (1939), 62.
40 W. E. Marsden
Flag, hung out by the `niggers’ to dry, and for which the heroine showed her con-
tempt by attempting to haul it down to bleach. 91
Progressive pedagogy also approved the use of action songs and games based on
Froebelian principles which, as much as didactic textbooks, included much patriotic
material. A well-known contemporary writer of such songs, Louisa Walker, noted
that it caused much merriment if a tiny boy was called a Major and put in front of a
class with a pail for a helmet and a poker for a gun. She included in one of her
collections at the time of the Boer War a song entitled `O to the War’, in which an
infant boy and girl played mother and son in a sentimental farewell scene, as he
obeyed `duty’s call’ to go o `to ® ght the foreign foe’.92 During the First World War,
children of all ages participated in increasingly jingoistic Empire Day celebrations.
The various teachers’ journals o ered suitably graded support. Even the babies’ class
had a contribution to make in setting an example, as illustrated in verse, song and
play:
If I tumbled do you think I’d cry
Like a baby?
No, not I.
Are you wond’ring what I’d do?
Just jump up
And smile at you.
If `twas bleeding, what care I?
Wounded soldiers
Do not cry!
They’re the bravest men of all
And I’ll be like them
When I fall.
In another instance, infant participants showed a brave de® ance, be® tting a future
war hero:
I want to be a soldier,
With bayonet and gun,
I want to cross the Channel,
And ® ght this cruel Hun.
I’m much too old for playthings,
Like whips and tops and bricks,
I want to be a soldier,
For, listen! I am six!93
Mothers were encouraged to support the spirit of the occasion, in some cases making
detailed replicas of soldiers’, or John Bull’s or nurses’ uniforms for their toddlers to
dress up in.94 The peacetime Empire Day type of celebration was modi® ed. It was
still centred on pageant and play, but now, instead of children simulating their
counterparts from other parts of the Empire, the performers might be required to
100 A. K. Lockington, `Di cult lessons’, Teachers World (9 February 1928), 950.
101 Mann, op. cit. (1939), 50.
102 Kamenetsky, op. cit. (1984).
103 Mann, op. cit. (1939), 55.
104 Kamenetsky, op. cit. (1984), 250.
Nationalism, propaganda and war and peace 43
anticipated its e ectiveness as a cross-curricular theme. 105 Scores of songs celebrat-
ing the ¯ ag were printed, such as `The Flag of Old England’ and `Three Cheers for
the Red White and Blue’. Not all approved. Bertrand Russell, for example,
complained that emphasis on the ¯ ag generated xenophobia. It was a symbol of
the nation in its martial capacity, suggesting `battle, war, con¯ ict, and deeds of
heroism’.106
For internationalist League of Nations teaching, a favoured integrated topic was
`Flags’. Similar teaching techniques were advocated. In one junior school project, for
example, children were asked to paint small ¯ ags of cigarette-card size, and then pin
them on a large map they had drawn or modelled. They also had to draw ¯ ags in an
exercise book, and leave space into which they could write information heard on the
wireless news. Then each child had to take on a country, go to the public library and
pick up information about it, in preparation for giving a little speech to the class.
Interest in the ¯ ags was expected to turn into interest to learn about the geography
and history of countries, and to contribute to a sympathetic interest in them.107
After the war, attempts were made to emulate the popularity of Empire Day by
formally observing Armistice Day. In the ® rst place this was designed in memory of
those who had been killed in the First World War, but League of Nations supporters
also regarded the idea as a valuable opportunity to promote the cause of peace. As
with Empire Day, appropriate songs and recitations, cantatas and plays were used,
often specially written for the occasion. In Empire Day plays, the key ® gure was
usually an imperious but benign Britannia, and the nations of the Empire were
represented in native costume. Britannia welcomed all, then each extolled their
common and bene® cent imperial heritage, and ® nally all in turn declared their
allegiance to the Crown. Similar plays were written for League of Nations purposes,
including Armistice Day services. Among the authors was Enid Blyton. The leading
® gure, replicating Britannia in the Empire Day plays, was characteristically called
`The Spirit of Peace’ or `The Queen of Peace’ or, in one case, `Mister World’.
One award-winning play for Armistice Day included a War King as well as a
Queen of Peace. Thirteen children represented European countries. The War King
declared he would continue to reign, `though men die and women weep’. The Queen
of Peace a rmed that the armistice had ended his reign, and there must be no more
war. In a scowling retreat, the War King indicated he would return again. The
di erent countries were invited to sign up to the League of Nations, and made
appropriate responses. Germany was the last to be called and confessed: `I thought
to bring the whole world to my feet, but I have learned that love is stronger than
hate, and right shall triumph over wrong’. Germany was gladly accepted into the
League by the Queen of Peace, and all cheered as the War King fell down dead.108
In an account of history teaching in English schools an American writer drew
attention to attempts to inculcate internationalism through League of Nations teach-
ing, giving an example of a Streatham school which ran a `League of Nations Week’,
during which the girls engaged in competitions, treasure hunts and fancy-dress
parties in which costumes representing other nations were worn. Other schools
simulated model council meetings and assemblies of the League. What today
105 T. F. G. Dexter and A. H. Garlick, Object L essons in Geography for Standard II (London, 1899), 198±
200.
106 Russell, op. cit. (1932), 136.
107 J. Kenwrick, `Flags of the nations’, Teachers World (7 December 1932), 356.
108 E. S. Butterworth, `The reign of peace’, Teachers’ Times (24 October 1924), 261.
44 W. E. Marsden
would be termed `twinning’ arrangements with European schools were organized,
either through actual visits or correspondence. She commented, however, that there
was more enthusiasm for such work in girls’ than in boys’ schools. 109 A similar
initiative was Rosalind Escott’s implementation of an international exchange of
children’s pictures.110 Ease of travel had made visits to Europe more feasible and
indeed the mission of the School Journey Association, formed in 1911, included not
only the promotion of ® eld study in the home country, but also, from the 1920s,
overseas excursions to Europe. The establishment of personal contacts between
young people was held to contribute to harmonious international relations. The
SJA excursions were popular ventures for nearly two decades, brought to an unfor-
tunate end by the outbreak of the Second World War. 111
Conclusion
The historical evidence therefore suggests that where there is a strong commitment to
threatening economic, political or social (and more recently environmental) circum-
stances, the good causes of the day, there is a cry for education to accept the
poisoned chalice of saving the world, in the cyclically repeated expectation that
this can realistically be achieved by educational means. A critical if inconvenient
question is whether or not the momentous ends in view might not more e ectively
be accomplished through propaganda and indoctrination rather than, as often
assumed, more liberal and enquiry-based educational approaches, which provoke
a linked question about the curricular arrangements to be followed. It has, for ex-
ample, been argued that, in a non-totalitarian system at least, the academic and more
dispassionate subjects of the curriculum are a degree less likely to be corralled for
indoctrinatory purposes than mission-oriented curriculum integration arrangements,
such as religious or imperial instruction, or education for war and peace and, dare
one say, citizenship and environmental education.112
A striking example in the immediate post-First World War period of a mission
striving to be scrupulous was John Hargrave’s Woodcraft Movement mutation, `The
Covenant of the Kibbo Kift’. This was a breakaway group from the mainstream,
hostile to what it perceived as the warlike values of the Boy Scouts. Hargrave’s
ambition was, however, neither more nor less than that of the hard-line eugenicist,
stressing the need for establishing a new blood line or caste of hardihood, whose
members would think twice before marrying `less improved’ types. The objectives of
the outdoor and health education programme he advocated were essentially as racist
in nature as those of National Socialism. But radically dissimilar was Hargrave’s
insistence on evolution rather than revolution, on what he saw as education rather
than indoctrination. His principles were to be disseminated in voluntary ways, with-
out `political wirepulling’.113 His venture failed.
Beliefs of liberty and justice, humanitarian conduct and Christian ethics must be
consciously propagated, Rathbone insisted.117
In the United States William Biddle attacked the increasing infusion of propa-
ganda into schools, arguing that education’s central purpose was the development of
`critical thinking’, `skepticism’, and `discriminating minds’ as counter to the `emo-
tional gullibility’ associated with propaganda.118 Similarly, Viereck viewed his book
Spreading Germs of Hate as an `antidote or serum against this scourge by inculcating
propaganda resistance’. 119 The National Council for the Social Studies was su -
ciently exercised by the issue as to devote its 1937 Y earbook to the subject. A Faculty
member of Teachers College, Columbia University, in the same year organized an
Institute for Propaganda Analysis in New York City. 120 Of course, much of the
American concern had been raised not so much by events in Europe, as by continu-
ing di erences between North and South, and also by the increasing intervention in
schooling of home-grown right-wing nationalist pressure groups, in particular the
American Legion and `ancestor worshippers’ such as The Daughters of the
American Revolution,121 strongly implicated in the censorship of textbooks.
114 A. C. F. Beales, `History teaching and world peace’, The New Ploughshare, 1 (1938), 7.
115 F. Evans, `The crisis in the teaching of the League of Nations’, Teachers’ World and Schoolmistress
(8 December 1937), 5.
116 Elliott, op. cit. (1977), 134.
117 E. Rathbone, `On the necessity for propaganda’, The New Ploughshare, 1 (1938), 2.
118 W. W. Biddle, Propaganda and Education (New York, 1932), 69.
119 Viereck, op. cit. (1931), 12.
120 C. R. Miller, `Propaganda: The crucial problem of the modern world’, in C. R. Miller, `Propaganda:
The crucial problem of the modern world’, Educating for Peace: A Report of the Committee on
International Relations of the National Council of Teachers of English, edited by I. T. Jacobs and
J. J. DeBoer (New York, 1940), 51.
121 H. K. Beale, `Propaganda in¯ uences within the school’, in National Council for the Social Studies,
Education against Propaganda, 7th Yearbook (Washington?, 1937), 100.
46 W. E. Marsden
But opinions varied. It was rightly observed that the problem of education versus
indoctrination had no clear-cut solution. Viereck warned that propaganda `hides its
paternity and dissembles its motives. Propaganda may insidiously disguise itself as
education’. 122 Countering this argument, C. J. H. Hayes, a Professor of History at
Columbia University, argued the presence of a propaganda for truth as well as a
propaganda of falsehood. He regarded education as form of propaganda, emphasiz-
ing `the pouring-in, the pumping-in, which is the actual method, if not the theory, of
education’. Propaganda was in his view a neutral, if not wholly respectable word. He
agreed that nationalist education had seized more on the powerful agencies of
propaganda, but appeared to see the di erences between the various lobbies more
as matters of degree than of kind.123
Such blurring of the edges has become more evident in recent decades. History
itself can be put to `strange uses’.124 As Anyon insists, all textbook material re¯ ects
an underlying ideology, an ideology being seen as `an explanation or interpretation
of social reality which, although presented as objective, is demonstrably partial in
that it expresses the social priorities of certain political, economic or other
groups’. 125 Equally of concern, these interests are hidden. Thus, apart from overtly
o ensive material, bias is introduced by omission and di erences of emphasis, or by
a deliberate or inadvertent selective choice of illustration. Teachers (and textbook
authors) have also equally been accused of being part of a dominant pattern of
classroom communication that is indoctrinational, in that the material transmitted
`is structured so as to exclude, repress and prevent exploration of questions regarding
the validity of the facts and simple generalizations which make up the bulk of
information transmitted in classrooms’, even though teachers in general would
claim to be opposed to indoctrination.126 It would seem fair, however, to insist
that a distinction needs to be made between the gross distortions often accompany-
ing `hard-core’ propaganda material, and the more evidently `soft-core’ subjectivity
and selectivity which are inevitably present in textbooks.
Two particularly striking features therefore emerge from this comparative con-
sideration of the treatment of war and peace in the schools of the contesting nations
of early twentieth-century Europe. The ® rst is the similarity in the methods practised,
whatever good cause was avowed. The second is the sheer unreality of the expecta-
tions of what the di erent groups thought they might attain through `education’, as
distinct from propaganda accompanied by draconian social and political control.
The Times Educational Supplement judged that while League of Nations teaching
had helped to reduce jingoistic statements in British textbooks, and to promote a
more internationalist point of view, on the broader scale it had been unable to
restrain the aggressor or to tackle in practice the fundamental causes of war. 127
While the illustrative material of National Socialism was down to earth, unequivocal
and accessible to the uncomplicated mind, characteristic of the peace campaigners
128 Anon., `The geography teacher’, Teacher’s World and Schoolmistress (20 March 1940), 3.
129 UNESCO, L ooking at the World through Textbooks (Paris, 1950), 1.
130 Anon., `Pills and earthquakes’, The Schoolmaster (19 April 1919), 579.