education, the next question is, in what manner they are to be taught.
Indeed, I believe, if the persons employed in the business of education
had taken half the pains to smooth the access to this department of
literature, that they have employed to plant it round with briars and
thorns, its utility and propriety, in the view we are now considering
it, would scarcely have been questioned.
There is something necessarily disgusting in the forms of grammar.
Grammar therefore is made in our public schools the business of a
twelvemonth. Rules are heaped upon rules with laborious stupidity. To
render them the more formidable, they are presented to our youth in the
very language, the first principles of which they are designed to teach.
For my own part, I am persuaded the whole business of grammar may be
dispatched in a fortnight. I would only teach the declensions of nouns,
and the inflexions of verbs. For the rest, nothing is so easily
demonstrated, as that the auxiliary sciences are best communicated in
connection with their principals. Chronology, geography, are never so
thoroughly understood, as by him that treats them literally as the
handmaids of history. He, who is instructed in Latin with clearness and
accuracy, will never be at a loss for the rules of grammar.
But to complete the disgust we seem so careful to inspire, the learned
languages are ever surrounded with the severity verity of discipline;
and it would probably be thought little short of sacrilege to discompose
their features with a smile. Such a mode of proceeding can never be
sufficiently execrated.
Indeed, I shall be told, "this is the time to correct the native vices
of the mind. In childhood the influence of pain and mortification is
comparatively trifling. What then can be more judicious than to
accumulate upon this period, what must otherwise fall with tenfold
mischief upon the age of maturity?" In answer to this reasoning, let it
be first considered, how many there are, who by the sentence of nature
are called out of existence, before they can live to reap these boasted
advantages. Which of you is there, that has not at some time regretted
that age, in which a smile is ever upon the countenance, and peace and
serenity at the bottom of the heart? How is it you can consent to
deprive these little innocents of an enjoyment, that slides so fast
away? How is it you can find in your heart to pall these fleeting years
with bitterness and slavery? The undesigning gaiety of youth has the
strongest claim upon your humanity. There is not in the world a truer
object of pity, than a child terrified at every glance, and watching,
with anxious uncertainty, the caprices of a pedagogue. If he survive,
the liberty of manhood is dearly bought by so many heart aches. And if
he die, happy to escape your cruelty, the only advantage he derives from
the sufferings you have inflicted, is that of not regretting a life, of
which he knew nothing but the torments.
But who is it that has told you, that the certain, or even the probable
consequences of this severity are beneficial? Nothing is so easily
proved, as that the human mind is pure and spotless, as it came from the
hands of God, and that the vices of which you complain, have their real
source in those shallow and contemptible precautions, that you pretend
to employ against them. Of all the conditions to which we are incident,
there is none so unpropitious to whatever is ingenuous and honourable,
as that of a slave. It plucks away by the root all sense of dignity, and
all manly confidence. In those nations of antiquity, most celebrated for
fortitude and heroism, their youth had never their haughty and
unsubmitting neck bowed to the inglorious yoke of a pedagogue. To borrow
the idea of that gallant assertor of humanity, sir Richard Steele: I
will not say that our public schools have not produced many great and
illustrious characters; but I will assert, there was not one of those
characters, that would not have been more manly and venerable, if they
had never been subjected to this vile and sordid condition.
Having thus set aside the principal corruptions of modern education, the
devising methods for facilitating the acquisition of languages will not
be difficult. The first books put into the hands of a pupil should be
simple, interesting, and agreeable. By their means, he will perceive a
reasonableness and a beauty in the pursuit. If he be endowed by nature
with a clear understanding, and the smallest propensity to literature,
he will need very little to stimulate him either from hope or fear.
Attentive to the native gaiety of youth, the periods, in which his
attention is required, though frequent in their returns, should in their
duration be short and inoppressive. The pupil should do nothing merely
because he is seen or heard by his preceptor. If he have companions,
still nothing more is requisite, than that degree of silence and order,
which shall hinder the attention of any from being involuntarily
diverted. The pupil has nothing to conceal, and no need of falsehood.
The approbation of the preceptor respects only what comes directly under
his cognizance, and cannot be disguised. Even here, remembering the
volatility and sprightliness, inseparable from the age, humanity will
induce him not to animadvert with warmth upon the appearances of a
casual distraction, but he will rather solicit the return of attention
by gentleness, than severity.
But of all rules, the most important is that of preserving an uniform,
even tenour of conduct. Into the government of youth passion and caprice
should never enter. The gentle yoke of the preceptor should be
confounded as much as possible, with the eternal laws of nature and
necessity. The celebrated maxim of republican government should be
adopted here. The laws should speak, and the magistrate be silent. The
constitution should be for ever unchangeable and independent of the
character of him that administers it.
Nothing can certainly be more absurd than the attempt to educate
children by reason. We may be sure they will treat every determination
as capricious, that shocks their inclination. The _chef d'oeuvre_ of a
good education is to form a reasonable human being; and yet they pretend
to govern a child by argument and ratiocination. This is to enter upon
the work at the wrong end, and to endeavour to convert the fabric itself
into one of the tools by which it is constructed. The laws of the
preceptor ought to be as final and inflexible, as they are mild and
humane.
There is yet another method for facilitating the acquisition of
languages, so just in itself, and so universally practicable, that I
cannot forbear mentioning it. It is that of commencing with the modern
languages, French for instance in this country. These in the education
of our youth, are universally postponed to what are stiled the learned
languages. I shall perhaps be told that modern tongues being in a great
measure derived from the Latin, the latter is very properly to be
considered as introductory to the former. But why then do we not adopt
the same conduct in every instance? Why to the Latin do we not premise
the Greek, and to the Greek the Coptic and Oriental tongues? Or how long
since is it, that the synthetic has been proved so much superior to the
analytic mode of instruction? In female education, the modern languages
are taught without all this preparation; nor do I find that our fair
rivals are at all inferior to the generality of our sex in their
proficiency. With the youth of sense and spirit of both sexes, the
learning of French is usually considered, rather as a pleasure, than a
burden. Were the Latin communicated in the same mild and accommodating
manner, I think I may venture to pronounce, that thus taken in the
second place, there will be no great difficulty in rendering it equally
attractive.
I would just observe that there is an obvious propriety in the French
language being learned under the same direction, as the Latin and Greek.
The pursuit of this elegant accomplishment ought at no time to be
entirely omitted. But the attention of youth is distracted between the
method of different masters, and their amiable confidence, in the
direction under which they are placed, entirely ruined by mutability and
inconstance. The same observation may also be applied here, as in the
learned languages. The attention of the pupil should be confined as much
as possible to the most classical writers; and the French would furnish
a most useful subsidiary in a course of history. Let me add, that though
I have prescribed the age of ten years, as the most eligible for the
commencement of classical education, I conceive there would be no
impropriety in taking up the modern language so early as nine.
Such then is the kind of subjection, that the learning of languages
demands. The question that recurs upon us is; How far this subjection
may fairly be considered as exceptionable, and whether its beneficial
consequences do not infinitely outweigh the trifling inconveniences that
may still be ascribed to it?
But there is another subject that demands our consideration. Modern
education not only corrupts the heart of our youth, by the rigid slavery
to which it condemns them, it also undermines their reason, by the
unintelligible jargon with which they are overwhelmed in the first
instance, and the little attention, that is given to the accommodating
their pursuits to their capacities in the second.
Nothing can have a greater tendency to clog and destroy the native
activity of the mind, than the profuseness with which the memory of
children is loaded, by nurses, by mothers, by masters. What can more
corrupt the judgment, than the communicating, without measure, and
without end, words entirely devoid of meaning? What can have a more
ridiculous influence upon our taste, than for the first verses to which
our attention is demanded, to consist of such strange and uncouth
jargon? To complete the absurdity, and that we may derive all that
elegance and refinement from the study of languages, that it is
calculated to afford, our first ideas of Latin are to be collected from
such authors, as Corderius, Erasmus, Eutropius, and the Selectae. To
begin indeed with the classical writers, is not the way to smooth the
path of literature. I am of opinion however, that one of the
above-mentioned authors will be abundantly sufficient. Let it be
remembered, that the passage from the introductory studies to those
authors, that form the very essence of the language, will be much
facilitated by the previous acquisition of the French.
Having spoken of the article of memory, let me be permitted to mention
the practice, that has of late gained so great a vogue; the instructing
children in the art of spouting and acting plays. Of all the qualities
incident to human nature, the most universally attractive is simplicity,
the most disgusting is affectation. Now what idea has a child of the
passions of a hero, and the distresses of royalty? But he is taught the
most vehement utterance, and a thousand constrained cadences, without
its being possible that he should see in them, either reasonableness or
propriety.
I would not have a child required to commit any thing to memory more
than is absolutely necessary. If, however, he be a youth of spirit, he
will probably learn some things in this manner, and the sooner because
it is not expected of him. It will be of use for him to repeat these
with a grave and distinct voice, accommodated to those cadences, which
the commas, the periods, and the notes of interrogation, marked in his
author, may require, but without the smallest instruction to humour the
gay, or to sadden the plaintive.
Another article, that makes a conspicuous figure in the education of our
youth, is composition. Before they are acquainted with the true
difference between verse and prose, before they are prepared to decide
upon the poetical merit of Lily and Virgil, they are called upon to
write Latin verse themselves. In the same manner some of their first
prose compositions are in a dead language. An uniform, petty, ridiculous
scheme is laid down, and within that scheme all their thoughts are to be
circumscribed.
Composition is certainly a desirable art, and I think can scarcely be
entered upon too soon. It should be one end after which I would
endeavour, and the mode of effecting it will be farther illustrated in
the sequel, to solicit a pupil to familiarity, and to induce him to
disclose his thoughts upon such subjects as were competent to his
capacity, in an honest and simple manner. After having thus warmed him
by degrees, it might be proper to direct him to write down his thoughts,
without any prescribed method, in the natural and spontaneous manner, in
which they flowed from his mind. Thus the talk of throwing his
reflections upon paper would be facilitated to him, and his style
gradually formed, without teaching him any kind of restraint and
affectation. To the reader who enters at all into my ideas upon the
subject, it were needless to subjoin, that I should never think of
putting a youth upon the composition of verse.
From all I have said it will be sufficiently evident, that it would be a
constant object with me to model my instructions to the capacity of my
pupil. They are books, that beyond all things teach us to talk without
thinking, and use words without meaning. To this evil there can be no
complete remedy. But shall we abolish literature, because it is not
unaccompanied with inconveniencies? Shall we return to a state of savage
ignorance, because all the advantages of civilization have their
attendant disadvantages?
The only remedy that can be applied, is to accustom ourselves to clear
and accurate investigation. To prefer, whereever we can have recourse to
it, the book of nature to any human composition. To begin with the
latter as late as may be consistent with the most important purposes of
education. And when we do begin, so to arrange our studies, as that we
may commence with the simplest and easiest sciences, and proportion our
progress to the understanding of the pupil.
With respect to grammar in particular, the declensions of nouns, and the
inflexions of verbs, we may observe, that to learn words to which
absolutely no ideas are affixed, is not to learn to think loosely, and
to believe without being convinced. These certainly can never corrupt
the mind. And I suppose no one will pretend, that to learn grammar, is
to be led to entertain inaccurate notions of the subjects, about which
it is particularly conversant. On the contrary, the ideas of grammar are
exceedingly clear and accurate. It has, in my opinion, all those
advantages, by which the study of geometry is usually recommended,
without any of its disadvantages. It tends much to purge the
understanding, to render it close in its investigations, and sure in its
decisions. It introduces more easily and intelligibly than mathematical
science, that most difficult of all the mental operations, abstraction.
It imperceptibly enlarges our conceptions, and generalises our ideas.
But if to read its authors, be the most valuable purpose of learning a
language, the grammar will not be sufficient. Other books will be
necessary. And how shall these be chosen, so as not to leave behind us
the understanding of our pupil? Shall we introduce him first to the
sublime flights of Virgil, the philosophical investigations of a Cicero,
or the refined elegance and gay satire of Horace? Alas! if thus
introduced unprepared to the noblest heights of science, how can it be
expected that his understanding should escape the shipwreck, and every
atom of common sense not be dashed and scattered ten thousand ways?
The study then I would here introduce, should be that of history. And
that this study is not improper to the age with which I connect it, is
the second point I would endeavour to demonstrate.
But is history, I shall be asked, the study so proper for uninstructed
minds? History, that may in some measure be considered as concentring in
itself the elements of all other sciences? History, by which we are
informed of the rise and progress of every art, and by whose testimony
the comparative excellence of every art is ascertained? History, the
very testimony of which is not to be admitted, without the previous
trial of metaphysical scrutiny, and philosophic investigation? Lastly,
History, that is to be considered as a continual illustration of the
arts of fortification and tactics; but above all of politics, with its
various appendages, commerce, manufacture, finances?
To all this, I calmly answer, No: it is not history in any of these
forms, that constitutes the science to which I would direct the
attention of my pupil. Of the utility of the history of arts and
sciences, at least, as a general study, I have no very high opinion. But
were my opinion ever so exalted, I should certainly chuse to postpone
this study for the present. I should have as little to do with tactics
and fortification. I would avoid as much as possible the very subject of
war. Politics, commerce, finances, might easily be deferred. I would
keep far aloof from the niceties of chronology, and the dispute of
facts. I would not enter upon the study of history through the medium of
epitome. I would even postpone the general history of nations, to the
character and actions of particular men.
Many of the articles I have mentioned, serve to compose the pedantry of
history. Than history, no science has been more abused. It has been
studied from ostentation; it has been studied with the narrow views of
little minds; it has been warped to serve a temporary purpose. Ingenious
art has hung it round with a thousand subtleties, and a thousand
disputes. The time has at length arrived, when it requires an erect
understanding, and a penetrating view, above the common rate, to
discover the noble purposes, which this science is most immediately
calculated to subserve.
In a word, the fate of history has been like that of travelling. The
institution has been preserved, but its original use is lost. One man
travels from fashion, and another from pride. One man travels to measure
buildings, another to examine pictures, and a third perhaps to learn to
dance. Scarcely any remember that its true application is to study men
and manners. Perhaps a juster idea cannot be given of the science we are
considering, than that which we may deduce from a reflection of
Rousseau. "The ancient historians," says he, "are crowded with those
views of things, from which we may derive the utmost utility, even
though the facts that suggest them, should be mistaken. But we are
unskilled to derive any real advantage from history. The critique of
erudition absorbs every thing; as if it imported us much whether the
relation were true, provided we could extract from it any useful
induction. Men of sense ought to regard history as a tissue of fables,
whose moral is perfectly adapted to the human heart."
The mere external actions of men are not worth the studying: Who would
have ever thought of going through a course of history, if the science
were comprised in a set of chronological tables? No: it is the hearts of
men we should study. It is to their actions, as expressive of
disposition and character, we should attend. But by what is it that we
can be advanced thus far, but by specious conjecture, and plausible
inference? The philosophy of a Sallust, and the sagacity of a Tacitus,
can only advance us to the regions of probability. But whatever be the
most perfect mode of historical composition, it is to the simplest
writers that our youth should be first introduced, writers equally
distant from the dry detail of Du Fresnoy, and the unrivalled eloquence
of a Livy. The translation of Plutarch would, in my opinion, form the
best introduction. As he is not a writer of particular elegance, he
suffers less from a version, than many others. The Roman revolutions of
Vertot might very properly fill the second place. Each of these writers
has this further recommendation, that, at least, in the former part of
their works, they treat of that simplicity and rectitude of manners of
the first Greeks and Romans, that furnish the happiest subject that can
be devised for the initiating youth in the study of history.
Under the restrictions I have laid down, history is of all sciences the
most simple. It has been ever considered by philosophers, as the porch
of knowledge. It has ever been treated by men of literature, as the
relaxation of their feverer pursuits. It leads directly to the most
important of all attainments, the knowledge of the heart. It introduces
us, without expence, and without danger, to an acquaintance with manners
and society. By the most natural advances it points us forward to all
the depths of science. With the most attractive blandishments it forms
us by degrees to an inextinguishable thirst of literature.
But there is still an objection remaining, and that the most important
of all. Let history be stripped as much as you will of every extraneous
circumstance, let it be narrowed to the utmost simplicity, there is
still one science previously necessary. It is that of morals. If you see
nothing in human conduct, but purely the exterior and physical
movements, what is it that history teaches? Absolutely nothing; and the
science devoid of interest, becomes incapable of affording either
pleasure or instruction. We may add, that the more perfectly it is made
a science of character and biography, the more indispensible is ethical
examination. But to such an examination it has been doubted whether the
understandings of children be competent. Upon this question I will beg
leave to say a few words, and I have done.
It is scarcely necessary to observe, that I do not speak here of ethics
as an abstract science, but simply as it relates to practice, and the
oeconomy of human life. Our enquiry therefore is respecting the time at
which that intuitive faculty is generally awakened, by which we decide
upon the differences of virtue and vice, and are impelled to applaud the
one, and condemn the other.
The moment in which the faculty of memory begins to unfold itself, the
man begins to exist as a moral being. Not long posterior to this, is the
commencement of prescience and foresight. Rousseau has told us, in his
animated language, that if a child could escape a whipping, or obtain a
paper of sweetmeats, by promising to throw himself out at window
tomorrow, the promise would instantly be made. Nothing is more contrary
to experience than this. It is true, death, or any such evils, of which
he has no clear conception, do not strongly affect him in prospect. But
by the view of that which is palpable and striking, he is as much
influenced as any man, however extensive his knowledge, however large
his experience. It is only by seizing upon the activity and earnestness
incident to youthful pursuits, and totally banishing the idea of what is
future, that we can destroy its influence. Their minds, like a sheet of
white paper, are susceptible to every impression. Their brain, uncrouded
with a thousand confused traces, is a cause, that every impression they
receive is strong and durable.
The aera of foresight is the aera of imagination, and imagination is the
grand instrument of virtue. The mind is the seat of pleasure and pain.
It is not by what we see, but by what we infer and suppose, that we are
taught, that any being is the object of commiseration. It is by the
constant return of the mind to the unfortunate object, that we are
strongly impressed with sympathy. Hence it is that the too frequent
recurrence of objects of distress, at the same time that it blunts the
imagination, renders the heart callous and obdurate.