ON WIT AND JUDGMENT.
It has been shown, that the powers of memory, invention and
imagination, ought to be rendered subservient to judgment: it has been
shown, that reasoning and judgment abridge the labours of memory, and
are necessary to regulate the highest flights of imagination. We shall
consider the power of reasoning in another point of view, as being
essential to our conduct in life. The object of reasoning is to adapt
means to an end, to attain the command of effects by the discovery of
the causes on which they depend.
Until children have acquired some knowledge of effects, they cannot
inquire into causes. Observation must precede reasoning; and as
judgment is nothing more than the perception of the result of
comparison, we should never urge our pupils to judge, until they have
acquired some portion of experience.
To teach children to compare objects exactly, we should place the
things to be examined distinctly before them. Every thing that is
superfluous, should be taken away, and a sufficient motive should be
given to excite the pupil's attention. We need not here repeat the
advice that has formerly been given[85] respecting the choice of
proper motives to excite and fix attention; or the precautions
necessary to prevent the pain of fatigue, and of unsuccessful
application. If comparison be early rendered a task to children, they
will dislike and avoid this exercise of the mind, and they will
consequently show an inaptitude to reason: if comparing objects be
made interesting and amusing to our pupils, they will soon become
expert in discovering resemblances and differences; and thus they will
be prepared for reasoning.
Rousseau has judiciously advised, that _the senses_ of children should
be cultivated with the utmost care. In proportion to the distinctness
of their perceptions, will be the accuracy of their memory, and,
probably, also the precision of their judgment. A child, who sees
imperfectly, cannot reason justly about the objects of sight, because
he has not sufficient data. A child, who does not hear distinctly,
cannot judge well of sounds; and, if we could suppose the sense of
touch to be twice as accurate in one child as in another, we might
conclude, that the judgment of these children must differ in a similar
proportion. The defects in organization are not within the power of
the preceptor; but we may observe, that inattention, and want of
exercise, are frequently the causes of what appear to be natural
defects; and, on the contrary, increased attention and cultivation
sometimes produce that quickness of eye and ear, and that consequent
readiness of judgment, which we are apt to attribute to natural
superiority of organization or capacity. Even amongst children, we may
early observe a considerable difference between the quickness of their
senses and of their reasoning upon subjects where they have had
experience, and upon those on which they have not been exercised.
The first exercises for the judgment of children should, as Rousseau
recommends, relate to visible and tangible substances. Let them
compare the size and shape of different objects; let them frequently
try what they can lift; what they can reach; at what distance they can
see objects; at what distance they can hear sounds: by these exercises
they will learn to judge of distances and weight; and they may learn
to judge of the solid contents of bodies of different shapes, by
comparing the observations of their sense of feeling and of sight. The
measure of hollow bodies can be easily taken by pouring liquids into
them, and then comparing the quantities of the liquids that fill
vessels of different shapes. This is a very simple method of
exercising the judgment of children; and, if they are allowed to try
these little experiments for themselves, the amusement will fix the
facts in their memory, and will associate pleasure with the habits of
comparison. Rousseau rewards Emilius with cakes when he judges
rightly; success, we think, is a better reward. Rousseau was himself
childishly fond of cakes and cream.
The step which immediately follows comparison, is deduction. The cat
is larger than the kitten; then a hole through which the cat can go,
must be larger than a hole through which the kitten can go. Long
before a child can put this reasoning into words, he is capable of
forming the conclusion, and we need not be in haste to make him
announce it in mode and figure. We may see by the various methods
which young children employ to reach what is above them, to drag, to
push, to lift different bodies, that they reason; that is to say, that
they adapt means to an end, before they can explain their own designs
in words. Look at a child building a house of cards; he dexterously
balances every card as he floors the edifice; he raises story over
story, and shows us that he has some design in view, though he would
be utterly incapable of describing his intentions previously in words.
We have formerly[86] endeavoured to show how the vocabulary of our
pupils may be gradually enlarged, exactly in proportion to their real
knowledge. A great deal depends upon our attention to this proportion;
if children have not a sufficient number of words to make their
thoughts intelligible, we cannot assist them to reason by our
conversation, we cannot communicate to them the result of our
experience; they will have a great deal of useless labour in comparing
objects, because they will not be able to understand the evidence of
others, as they do not understand their language; and at last, the
reasonings which they carry on in their own minds will be confused for
want of signs to keep them distinct. On the contrary, if their
vocabulary exceed their ideas, if they are taught a variety of words
to which they connect no accurate meaning, it is impossible that they
should express their thoughts with precision. As this is one of the
most common errours in education, we shall dwell upon it more
particularly.
We have pointed out the mischief which is done to the understanding of
children by the nonsensical conversation of common acquaintance.[87]
"Should you like to be a king? What are you to be? Are you to be a
bishop, or a judge? Had you rather be a general, or an admiral, my
little dear?" are some of the questions which every one has probably
heard proposed to children of five or six years old. Children who have
not learned by rote the expected answers to such interrogatories,
stand in amazed silence upon these occasions; or else answer at
random, having no possible means of forming any judgment upon such
subjects. We have often thought, in listening to the conversations of
grown up people with children, that the children reasoned infinitely
better than their opponents. People, who are not interested in the
education of children, do not care what arguments they use, what
absurdities they utter in talking to them; they usually talk to them
of things which are totally above their comprehension; and they
instil errour and prejudice, without the smallest degree of
compunction; indeed, without in the least knowing what they are about.
We earnestly repeat our advice to parents, to keep their children as
much as possible from such conversation: children will never reason,
if they are allowed to hear or to talk nonsense.
When we say, that children should not be suffered to talk nonsense, we
should observe, that unless they have been in the habit of hearing
foolish conversation, they very seldom talk nonsense. They may express
themselves in a manner which we do not understand, or they may make
mistakes from not accurately comprehending the words of others; but in
these cases, we should not reprove or silence them; we should
patiently endeavour to find out their hidden meaning. If we rebuke or
ridicule them, we shall intimidate them, and either lessen their
confidence in themselves or in us. In the one case, we prevent them
from thinking; in the other, we deter them from communicating their
thoughts; and thus we preclude ourselves from the possibility of
assisting them in reasoning. To show parents the nature of the
mistakes which children make from their imperfect knowledge of words,
we shall give a few examples from real life.
S----, at five years old, when he heard some one speak of _bay_
horses, said, he supposed that the bay horses must be the best horses.
Upon cross-questioning him, it appeared that he was led to this
conclusion by the analogy between the sound of the words _bay_ and
_obey_. A few days previous to this, his father had told him that
spirited horses were always the most ready to obey.
These erroneous analogies between the sound of words and their sense,
frequently mislead children in reasoning; we should, therefore,
encourage children to explain themselves fully, that we may rectify
their errours.
When S---- was between four and five years old, a lady who had taken
him upon her lap playfully, put her hands before his eyes, and (we
believe) asked if he liked to be blinded. S---- said no; and he looked
very thoughtful. After a pause, he added, "Smellie says, that children
like better to be blinded than to have their legs tied." (S---- had
read this in Smellie two or three days before.)
_Father._ "Are you of Smellie's opinion?"
_S----_ hesitated.
_Father._ "Would you rather be blinded, or have your legs tied?"
_S----._ "I would rather have my legs tied not quite tight."
_Father._ "Do you know what is meant by _blinded_?"
_S----._ "Having their eyes put out."
_Father._ "How do you mean?"
_S----._ "To put something into the eye to make the blood burst out;
and then the blood would come all over it, and cover it, and stick to
it, and hinder them from seeing--I don't know how."
It is obvious, that whilst this boy's imagination pictured to him a
bloody orb when he heard the word _blinded_, he was perfectly right in
his reasoning in preferring to have his legs tied; but he did not
judge of the proposition meant to be laid before him; he judged of
another which he had formed for himself. His father explained to him,
that Smellie meant blindfolded, instead of blinded; a handkerchief was
then tied round the boy's head, so as to hinder him from seeing, and
he was made perfectly to understand the meaning of the word
_blindfolded_.
In such trifles as these, it may appear of little consequence to
rectify the verbal errours of children; but exactly the same species
of mistake, will prevent them from reasoning accurately in matters of
consequence. It will not cost us much more trouble to detect these
mistakes when the causes of them are yet recent; but it will give us
infinite trouble to retrace thoughts which have passed in infancy.
When prejudices, or the habits of reasoning inaccurately, have been
formed, we cannot easily discover or remedy the remote trifling origin
of the evil.
When children begin to inquire about causes, they are not able to
distinguish between coincidence and causation: we formerly observed
the effect which this ignorance produces upon their temper; we must
now observe its effect upon their understanding. A little reflection
upon our own minds, will prevent us from feeling that stupid
amazement, or from expressing that insulting contempt which the
natural thoughts of children sometimes excite in persons who have
frequently less understanding than their pupils. What account can we
give of the connection between cause and effect? How is the idea, that
one thing is the cause of another, first produced in our minds? All
that we know is, that amongst human events, those which precede, are,
in some cases, supposed to produce what follow. When we have observed,
in several instances, that one event constantly precedes another, we
believe, and expect, that these events will in future recur together.
Before children have had experience, it is scarcely possible that they
should distinguish between fortuitous circumstances and causation;
accidental coincidences of time, and juxta-position, continually lead
them into errour. We should not accuse children of reasoning ill; we
should not imagine that they are defective in judgment, when they make
mistakes from deficient experience; we should only endeavour to make
them delay to decide until they have repeated their experiments; and,
at all events, we should encourage them to lay open their minds to us,
that we may assist them by our superior knowledge.
This spring, little W---- (three years old) was looking at a man who
was mowing the grass before the door. It had been raining, and when
the sun shone, the vapour began to rise from the grass. "Does the man
mowing _make_ the smoke rise from the grass?" said the little boy. He
was not laughed at for this simple question. The man's mowing
immediately preceded the rising of the vapour; the child had never
observed a man mowing before, and it was absolutely impossible that he
could tell what effects might be produced by it; he very naturally
imagined, that the event which immediately preceded the rising of the
vapour, was the cause of its rise; the sun was at a distance; the
scythe was near the grass. The little boy showed by the tone of his
inquiry, that he was in the philosophic state of doubt; had he been
ridiculed for his question; had he been told that he talked nonsense,
he would not, upon another occasion, have told us his thoughts, and he
certainly could not have improved in reasoning.
The way to improve children in their judgment with respect to
causation, is to increase their knowledge, and to lead them to try
experiments by which they may discover what circumstances are
essential to the production of any given effect; and what are merely
accessory, unimportant concomitants of the event.[88]
A child who, for the first time, sees blue and red paints mixed
together to produce purple, could not be certain that the pallet on
which these colours were mixed, the spatula with which they were
tempered, were not necessary circumstances. In many cases, the vessels
in which things are mixed are essential; therefore, a sensible child
would repeat the experiment exactly in the same manner in which he had
seen it succeed. This exactness should not be suffered to become
indolent imitation, or superstitious adherence to particular forms.
Children should be excited to add or deduct particulars in trying
experiments, and to observe the effects of these changes. In
"Chemistry," and "Mechanics," we have pointed out a variety of
occupations, in which the judgment of children may be exercised upon
the immediate objects of their senses.
It is natural, perhaps, that we should expect our pupils to show
surprise at those things which excite surprise in our minds; but we
should consider that almost every thing is new to children; and,
therefore, there is scarcely any gradation in their astonishment. A
child of three or four years old, would be as much amused, and,
probably, as much surprised, by seeing a paper kite fly, as he could
by beholding the ascent of a balloon. We should not attribute this to
stupidity, or want of judgment, but simply to ignorance.
A few days ago, W---- (three years old) who was learning his letters,
was let sow an _o_ in the garden with mustard seed. W---- was much
pleased with the operation. When the green plants appeared above
ground, it was expected that W---- would be much surprised at seeing
the exact shape of his _o_. He was taken to look at it; but he showed
no surprise, no sort of emotion.
We have advised that the judgment of children should be exercised upon
the objects of their senses. It is scarcely possible that they should
reason upon the subjects which are sometimes proposed to them: with
respect to manners and society, they have had no experience,
consequently they can form no judgments. By imprudently endeavouring
to turn the attention of children to conversation that is unsuited to
them, people may give the _appearance_ of early intelligence, and a
certain readiness of repartee and fluency of expression; but these are
transient advantages. Smart, witty children, amuse the circle for a
few hours, and are forgotten: and we may observe, that almost all
children who are praised and admired for sprightliness and wit, reason
absurdly, and continue ignorant. Wit and judgment depend upon
different opposite habits of the mind. Wit searches for remote
resemblances between objects or thoughts apparently dissimilar.
Judgment compares the objects placed before it, in order to find out
their differences, rather than their resemblances. The comparisons of
judgment may be slow: those of wit must be rapid. The same power of
attention in children, may produce either wit or judgment. Parents
must decide in which faculty, or rather, in which of these habits of
the mind, they wish their pupils to excel; and they must conduct their
education accordingly. Those who are desirous to make their pupils
witty, must sacrifice some portion of their judgment to the
acquisition of the talent for wit; they must allow their children to
talk frequently at random. Amongst a multitude of hazarded
observations, a happy hit is now and then made: for these happy hits,
children who are to be made wits should be praised; and they must
acquire sufficient courage to speak from a cursory view of things;
therefore the mistakes they make from superficial examination must not
be pointed out to them; their attention must be turned to the comic,
rather than to the serious side of objects; they must study the
different meanings and powers of words; they should hear witty
conversation, read epigrams, and comedies; and in all company they
should be exercised before numbers in smart dialogue and repartee.
When we mention the methods of educating a child to be witty, we at
the same time point out the dangers of this education; and it is but
just to warn parents against expecting inconsistent qualities from
their pupils. Those who steadily prefer the solid advantages of
judgment, to the transient brilliancy of wit, should not be mortified
when they see their children, perhaps, deficient at nine or ten years
old in the showy talents for general conversation; they must bear to
see their pupils appear slow; they must bear the contrast of flippant
gayety and sober simplicity; they must pursue exactly an opposite
course to that which has been recommended for the education of wits;
they must never praise their pupils for hazarding observations; they
must cautiously point out any mistakes that are made from a
precipitate survey of objects; they should not harden their pupils
against that feeling of shame, which arises in the mind from the
perception of having uttered an absurdity; they should never encourage
their pupils to play upon words; and their admiration of wit should
never be vehemently or enthusiastically expressed.
We shall give a few examples to convince parents, that children, whose
reasoning powers have been cultivated, are rather slow in
comprehending and in admiring wit. They require to have it explained,
they want to settle the exact justice and morality of the repartee,
before they will admire it.
(November 20th, 1796.) To day at dinner the conversation happened to
turn upon wit. Somebody mentioned the well known reply of the hackney
coachman to Pope. S----, a boy of nine years old, listened
attentively, but did not seem to understand it; his father endeavoured
to explain it to him. "Pope was a little ill made man; his favourite
exclamation was, 'God mend me!' Now, when he was in a passion with the
hackney coachman, he cried as usual, 'God mend me!' 'Mend _you_, sir?'
said the coachman; 'it would be easier to make a new one.' Do you
understand this now, S----?"
S---- looked dull upon it, and, after some minutes consideration,
said, "Yes, Pope was ill made; the man meant it would be better to
make a new one than to mend him." S---- did not yet seem to taste the
wit; he took the answer literally, and understood it soberly.
Immediately afterwards, the officer's famous reply to Pope was told to
S----. About ten days after this conversation, S---- said to his
sister, "I wonder, M----, that people don't oftener laugh at crooked
people; like the officer who called Pope a note of interrogation."
_M----._ "It would be ill natured to laugh at them."
_S----._ "But you all praised that man for saying _that_ about Pope.
You did not think him ill natured."
_Mr. ----._ "No, because Pope had been impertinent to him."
_S----._ "How?"
_M----._ "Don't you remember, that when the officer said that a note
of interrogation would make the passage clear, Pope turned round, and
looking at him with great contempt, asked if he knew what a note of
interrogation was?"
_S----._ "Yes, I remember that; but I do not think that was very
impertinent, because Pope might not know whether the man knew it or
not."
_Mr. ----._ "Very true: but then you see, that Pope took it for
granted that the officer was extremely ignorant; a boy who is just
learning to read knows what a note of interrogation is."
_S----_ (thoughtfully.) "Yes, it _was_ rude of Pope; but then the man
was an officer, and therefore, it was very likely that he might be
ignorant; you know you said that officers were often very ignorant."
_Mr. ----._ "I said _often_; but not _always_. Young men, I told you,
who are tired of books, and ambitious of a red coat, often go into the
army to save themselves the trouble of acquiring the knowledge
necessary for other professions. A man cannot be a good lawyer, or a
good physician, without having acquired a great deal of knowledge; but
an officer need have little knowledge to know how to stand to be shot
at. But though it may be true in general, that officers are often
ignorant, it is not necessary that they should be so; a man in a red
coat may have as much knowledge as a man in a black, or a blue one;
therefore no sensible person should decide that a man is ignorant
merely because he is an officer, as Pope did."
_S----._ "No, to be sure. I understand now."
_M----._ "But I thought, S----, you understood this before."
_Mr. ----._ "He is very right not to let it pass without understanding
it thoroughly. You are very right, S----, not to swallow things whole;
chew them well."
_S----_ looked as if he was still chewing.
_M----._ "What are you thinking of S----?"
_S----._ "Of the man's laughing at Pope for being crooked."
_Mr. ----._ "If Pope had not said any thing rude to that man, the man
would have done very wrong to have laughed at him. If the officer had
walked into a coffee-house, and pointing at Pope, had said, 'there's a
little crooked thing like a note of interrogation,' people might have
been pleased with his wit in seeing that resemblance, but they would
have disliked his ill nature; and those who knew Mr. Pope, would
probably have answered, 'Yes Sir, but that crooked little man is one
of the most witty men in England; he is the great poet, Mr. Pope.' But
when Mr. Pope had insulted the officer, the case was altered. Now, if
the officer had simply answered, when he was asked what a note of
interrogation was, 'a little crooked thing;' and if he had looked at
Pope from head to foot as he spoke these words, every body's attention
would have been turned upon Pope's figure; but then the officer would
have reproached him only for his personal defects: by saying, 'a
little crooked thing _that asks questions_,' the officer reproved Pope
for his impertinence. Pope had just asked him a question, and every
body perceived the double application of the answer. It was an exact
description of a note of interrogation, and of Mr. Pope. It is this
sort of partial resemblance quickly pointed out between things, which
at first appear very unlike, that surprises and pleases people, and
they call it wit."
How difficult it is to explain wit to a child! and how much more
difficult to fix its value and morality! About a month after this
conversation had passed, S---- returned to the charge: his mind had
not been completely settled about _wit_.
(January 9th, 1796.) "So, S----, you don't yet understand wit, I see,"
said M---- to him, when he looked very grave at something that was
said to him in jest. S---- immediately asked, "What _is_ wit?"
_M----_ answered (laughing) "Wit is the folly of grown up people."
_Mr. ----._ "How can you give the boy such an answer? Come to me, my
dear, and I'll try if I can give you a better. There are two kinds of
wit, one which depends upon words, and another which depends upon
thoughts. I will give you an instance of wit depending upon words:
"Hear yonder beggar, how he cries,
I am so lame I cannot rise!
If he tells truth, he lies."
"Do you understand that?"
_S----._ "No! If he tells truth, he lies! No, he can't both tell truth
and tell a lie at the same time; that's impossible."
_Mr. ----._ "Then there is something in the words which you don't
understand: in the _common_ sense of the words, they contradict each
other; but try if you can find out any uncommon sense--any word which
can be understood in two senses."
_S----_ muttered the words, "If he tells truth, he lies," and looked
indignant, but presently said, "Oh, now I understand; the beggar was
lying down; he lies, means he lies down, not he tells a lie."
The perception of the double meaning of the words, did not seem to
please this boy; on the contrary, it seemed to provoke him; and he
appeared to think that he had wasted his time upon the discovery.
_Mr. ----._ "Now I will give you an instance of wit that depends upon
the ideas, rather than on the words. A man of very bad character had
told falsehoods of another, who then made these two lines;
"Lie on, whilst my revenge shall be,
To tell the very truth of thee."
_S----_ approved of this immediately, and heartily, and recollected
the only epigram he knew by rote, one which he had heard in
conversation two or three months before this time. It was made upon a
tall, stupid man, who had challenged another to make an epigram
extempore upon him.
Unlike to Robinson shall be my song;
It shall be witty, and it shan't be long.
At the time S---- first heard this epigram, he had been as slow in
comprehending it as possible; but after it had been thoroughly
explained, it pleased him, and remained fixed in his memory.
Mr. ---- observed, that this epigram contained wit both in words and
in ideas: and he gave S----one other example. "There were two
contractors; I mean people who make a bargain with government, or with
those who govern the country, to supply them with certain things at a
certain price; there were two contractors, one of whom was employed to
supply government with corn; the other agreed to supply government
with rum. Now, you know, corn may be called grain, and rum may be
called spirit. Both these contractors cheated in their bargain; both
their names were the same; and the following epigram was made on them:
"Both of a name, lo! two contractors come;
One cheats in corn, and t'other cheats in rum.
Which is the greater, if you can, explain,
A rogue in spirit, or a rogue in grain?"
"_Spirit_," continued Mr. ----, "has another sense, you know--will,
intention, soul; he has the spirit of a rogue; she has the spirit of
contradiction. And grain has also another meaning; the grain of this
table, the grain of your coat. Dyed in grain, means dyed into the
substance of the material, so that the dye can't be washed out. A
rogue in grain, means a man whose habit of cheating is fixed in his
mind: and it is difficult to determine which is the worst, a man who
has the wish, or a man who has the habit, of doing wrong. At first it
seems as if you were only asked which was the worst, to cheat in
selling grain, or in selling spirit; but the concealed meaning, makes
the question both sense and wit."
These detailed examples, we fear, may appear tiresome; but we knew
not how, without them, to explain ourselves fully. We should add, for
the consolation of those who admire wit, and we are amongst the number
ourselves, that it is much more likely that wit should be engrafted
upon judgment, than that judgment should be engrafted upon wit. The
boy whom we have just mentioned, who was so slow in comprehending the
nature of wit, was asked whether he could think of any answer that
Pope might have made to the officer who called him a note of
interrogation.
_S----._ "Is there any note which means _answer_?"
_Mr. ----._ "I don't know what you mean."
_S----._ "Any note which means answer, as - - - - like the note of
interrogation, which shows that a question is asked?"
_Mr. ----._ "No; but if there were, what then?"
_S----._ "Pope might have called the man that note."
S---- could not exactly explain his idea; somebody who was present
said, that if he had been in Pope's place, he would have called the
officer a note of admiration. S---- would have made this answer, if he
had been familiarly acquainted with the _name_ of the note of
admiration. His judgment taught him how to set about looking for a
proper answer; but it could not lead him to the exact place for want
of experience.
We hope that we have, in the chapter on books, fully explained the
danger of accustoming children to read what they do not understand.
Poetry, they cannot early comprehend; and even if they do understand
it, they cannot improve their reasoning faculty by poetic studies. The
analogies of poetry, and of reasoning, are very different. "The muse,"
says an excellent judge upon this subject, "would make but an
indifferent school-mistress." We include under the head poetry, all
books in which declamation and eloquence are substituted for
reasoning. We should accustom our pupils to judge strictly of the
reasoning which they meet with in books; no names of high authority
should ever preclude an author's arguments from examination.
The following passage from St. Pierre's Etudes de la Nature, was read
to two boys: H----, 14 years old; S----, 10 years old.
"Hurtful insects, present (the same) oppositions and signs of
destruction; the gnat, thirsty of human blood, announces himself to
our sight by the white spots with which his brown body is speckled;
and by the shrill sound of his wings, which interrupts the calm of the
groves, he announces himself to our ear as well as to our eye. The
carnivorous wasp is streaked like the tiger, with bands of black over
a yellow ground."
H---- and S---- both at once exclaimed, that these spots in the gnat,
and streaks in the wasp, had nothing to do with their stinging us.
"The buzzing of the gnat," said S----, "would, I think, be a very
agreeable sound to us, if we did not know that the gnat would sting,
and that it was coming near us; and, as to the wasp, I remember
stopping one day upon the stairs to look at the beautiful black and
yellow body of a wasp. I did not think of danger, nor of its stinging
me then, and I did not know that it was like the tiger. After I had
been stung by a wasp, I did not think a wasp such a beautiful animal.
I think it is very often from our knowing that animals can hurt us,
that we think them ugly. We might as well say," continued S----,
pointing to a crocus which was near him, "we might as well say, that a
man who has a yellow face has the same disposition as that crocus, or
that the crocus is in every thing like the man, because it is yellow."
Cicero's "curious consolation for deafness" is properly noticed by Mr.
Hume. It was read to S---- a few days ago, to try whether he could
detect the sophistry: he was not previously told what was thought of
it by others.
"How many languages are there," says Cicero, "which you do not
understand! The Punic, Spanish, Gallic, Egyptian, &c. With regard to
all these, you are as if you were deaf, and yet you are indifferent
about the matter. Is it then so great a misfortune to be deaf to one
language more?"
"I don't think," said S----, "that was at all a good way to console
the man, because it was putting him in mind that he was more deaf than
he thought he was. He did not think of those languages, perhaps, till
he was put in mind that he could not hear them."
In stating any question to a child, we should avoid letting our own
opinion be known, lest we lead or intimidate his mind. We should also
avoid all appearance of anxiety, all impatience for the answer; our
pupil's mind should be in a calm state when he is to judge: if we turn
his sympathetic attention to our hopes and fears, we agitate him, and
he will judge by our countenances rather than by comparing the objects
or propositions which are laid before him. Some people, in arguing
with children, teach them to be disingenuous by the uncandid manner in
which they proceed; they show a desire for victory, rather than for
truth; they state the arguments only on their own side of the
question, and they will not allow the force of those which are brought
against them. Children are thus piqued, instead of being convinced,
and in their turn they become zealots in support of their own
opinions; they hunt only for arguments in their own favour, and they
are mortified when a good reason is brought on the opposite side of
the question to that on which they happen to have enlisted. To prevent
this, we should never argue, or suffer others to argue for victory
with our pupils; we should not praise them for their cleverness in
finding out arguments in support of their own opinion; but we should
praise their candour and good sense when they perceive and acknowledge
the force of their opponent's arguments. They should not be exercised
as advocates, but as judges; they should be encouraged to keep their
minds impartial, to sum up the reasons which they have heard, and to
form their opinion from these without regard to what they may have
originally asserted. We should never triumph over children for
changing their opinion. "I thought you were on _my_ side of the
question; or, I thought you were on the other side of the question
just now!" is sometimes tauntingly said to an ingenuous child, who
changes his opinion when he hears a new argument. You think it a proof
of his want of judgment, that he changes his opinion in this manner;
that he vibrates continually from side to side: let him vibrate,
presently he will be fixed. Do you think it a proof that your scales
are bad, because they vibrate with every additional weight that is
added to either side?
Idle people sometimes amuse themselves with trying the judgment of
children, by telling them improbable, extravagant stories, and then
ask the simple listeners whether they believe what has been told them.
The readiness of belief in children will always be proportioned to
their experience of the veracity of those with whom they converse;
consequently children, who live with those who speak truth to them,
will scarcely ever be inclined to doubt the veracity of strangers.
Such trials of the judgment of our pupils should never be permitted.
Why should the example of lying be set before the honest minds of
children, who are far from silly when they show simplicity? They guide
themselves by the best rules, by which even a philosopher in similar
circumstances could guide himself. The things asserted are
extraordinary, but the children believe them, because they have never
had any experience of the falsehood of human testimony.
The Socratic mode of reasoning is frequently practised upon children.
People arrange questions artfully, so as to bring them to whatever
conclusion they please. In this mode of reasoning, much depends upon
getting the first move; the child has very little chance of having it,
his preceptor usually begins first with a peremptory voice, "Now
answer me this question!" The pupil, who knows that the
interrogatories are put with a design to entrap him, is immediately
alarmed, and instead of giving a direct, candid answer to the
question, is always looking forward to the possible consequences of
his reply; or he is considering how he may evade the snare that is
laid for him. Under these circumstances he is in imminent danger of
learning the shuffling habits of cunning; he has little chance of
learning the nature of open, manly investigation.
Preceptors, who imagine that it is necessary to put on very grave
faces, and to use much learned apparatus in teaching the art of
reasoning, are not nearly so likely to succeed as those who have the
happy art of encouraging children to lay open their minds freely, and
who can make every pleasing trifle an exercise for the understanding.
If it be playfully pointed out to a child that he reasons ill, he
smiles and corrects himself; but you run the hazard of making him
positive in errour, if you reprove or ridicule him with severity. It
is better to seize the subjects that accidentally arise in
conversation, than formally to prepare subjects for discussion.
"The king's stag hounds," (says Mr. White of Selborne, in his
entertaining observations on quadrupeds,[89]) "the king's stag hounds
came down to Alton, attended by a huntsman and six yeoman prickers
with horns, to try for the stag that has haunted Hartley-wood
and its environs for so long a time. Many hundreds of people,
horse and foot, attended the dogs to see the deer unharboured;
but though the huntsman drew Hartley-wood, and Long-coppice, and
Shrub-wood, and Temple-hangers, and in their way back, Hartley, and
Wardleham-hangers, yet no stag could be found.
"The royal pack, _accustomed to have the deer turned out before them,
never drew the coverts with any address and spirit_," &c.
Children, who are accustomed to have the game started and turned out
before them by their preceptors, may, perhaps, like the royal pack,
lose their wonted address and spirit, and may be disgracefully _at a
fault_ in the public chase. Preceptors should not help their pupils
out in argument, they should excite them to explain and support their
own observations.
Many ladies show in general conversation the powers of easy raillery
joined to reasoning, unincumbered with pedantry. If they would employ
these talents in the education of their children, they would probably
be as well repaid for their exertions, as they can possibly be by the
polite, but transient applause of the visiters to whom they usually
devote their powers of entertaining. A little praise or blame, a smile
from a mother, or a frown, a moments attention, or a look of cold
neglect, have the happy, or the fatal power of repressing or of
exciting the energy of a child, of directing his understanding to
useful or pernicious purposes. Scarcely a day passes in which children
do not make some attempt to reason about the little events which
interest them, and, upon these occasions, a mother, who joins in
conversation with her children, may instruct them in the art of
reasoning without the parade of logical disquisitions.
Mr. Locke has done mankind an essential service, by the candid manner
in which he has spoken of some of the learned forms of argumentation.
A great proportion of society, he observes, are unacquainted with
these forms, and have not heard the name of Aristotle; yet, without
the aid of syllogisms, they can reason sufficiently well for all the
useful purposes of life, often much better than those who have been
disciplined in the schools. It would indeed "be putting one man sadly
over the head of another," to confine the reasoning faculty to the
disciples of Aristotle, to any sect or system, or to any forms of
disputation. Mr. Locke has very clearly shown, that syllogisms do not
assist the mind in the perception of the agreement or disagreement of
ideas; but, on the contrary, that they invert the natural order in
which the thoughts should be placed, and in which they must be placed,
before we can draw a just conclusion. To children who are not
familiarized with scholastic terms, the sound of harsh words, and
quaint language, unlike any thing that they hear in common
conversation, is alone sufficient to alarm their imagination with some
confused apprehension of difficulty. In this state of alarm they are
seldom sufficiently masters of themselves, either to deny or to
acknowledge an adept's major, minor, or conclusion. Even those who are
most expert in syllogistical reasoning, do not often apply it to the
common affairs of life, in which reasoning is just as much wanted as
it is in the abstract questions of philosophy; and many argue, and
conduct themselves with great prudence and precision, who might,
perhaps, be caught on the horns of a dilemma; or who would infallibly
fall victims to _the crocodile_.
Young people should not be ignorant, however, of these boasted forms
of argumentation; and it may, as they advance in the knowledge of
words, be a useful exercise to resist the attacks of sophistry. No
ingenious person would wish to teach a child to employ them. As
defensive weapons, it is necessary, that young people should have the
command of logical terms; as offensive weapons, these should never be
used. They should know the evolutions, and be able to perform the
exercise of a logician, according to the custom of the times,
according to the usage of different nations; but they should not
attach any undue importance to this technical art: they should not
trust to it in the day of battle.
We have seen syllogisms, crocodiles, enthymemas, sorites, &c.
explained and tried upon a boy of nine or ten years old in playful
conversation, so that he became accustomed to the terms without
learning to be pedantic in the abuse of them; and his quickness in
reasoning was increased by exercise in detecting puerile sophisms;
such as that of _the Cretans_--Gorgias and his bargain about the
winning of his first cause. In the following sorites[90] of
Themistocles--"My son commands his mother; his mother commands me; I
command the Athenians; the Athenians command Greece; Greece commands
Europe; Europe commands the whole earth; therefore my son commands the
whole earth"--the sophism depends upon the inaccurate use of the
_commands_, which is employed in different senses in the different
propositions. This errour was without difficulty detected by S---- at
ten years old; and we make no doubt that any unprejudiced boy of the
same age, would immediately point out the fallacy without hesitation;
but we do not feel quite sure that a boy exercised in logic, who had
been taught to admire and reverence the ancient figures of rhetoric,
would with equal readiness detect the sophism. Perhaps it may seem
surprising, that the same boy, who judged so well of this sorites of
Themistocles, should a few months before have been easily entrapped by
the following simple dilemma.
_M----._ "We should avoid what gives us pain."
_S----._ "Yes, to be sure."
_M----._ "Whatever burns us, gives us pain."
_S----._ "Yes, that it does!"
_M----._ "We should then avoid whatever burns us."
To this conclusion S---- heartily assented, for he had but just
recovered from the pain of a burn.
_M----._ "Fire burns us."
_S----._ "Yes, I know that."
_M----._ "We should then avoid fire."
_S----._ "Yes."
This hasty _yes_ was extorted from the boy by the mode of
interrogatory; but he soon perceived his mistake.
_M----._ "We should avoid fire. What when we are very cold?"
_S----._ "Oh, no: I meant to say, that we should avoid a certain
degree of fire. We should not go _too_ near the fire. We should not go
_so_ near as to burn ourselves."
Children who have but little experience, frequently admit assertions
to be true in general, which are only true in particular instances;
and this is often attributed to their want of judgment: it should be
attributed to their want of experience. Experience, and nothing else,
can rectify these mistakes: if we attempt to correct them by words, we
shall merely teach our pupils to argue about terms, not to reason.
Some of the questions and themes which are given to boys may afford us
instances of this injudicious education. "Is eloquence advantageous,
or hurtful to a state?" What a vast range of ideas, what variety of
experience in men and things should a person possess, who is to
discuss this question! Yet it is often discussed by unfortunate
scholars of eleven or twelve years old. "What is the greatest good?"
The answer expected by a preceptor to this question, obviously is,
virtue; and, if a boy can, in decent language, write a page or two
about _pleasure's_ being a transient, and virtue a permanent good, his
master flatters himself that he has early taught him to reason
philosophically. But what ideas does the youth annex to the words
pleasure and virtue? Or does he annex any? If he annex no idea to the
words, he is merely talking about sounds.
All reasoning ultimately refers to matters of fact: to judge whether
any piece of reasoning is within the comprehension of a child, we must
consider whether the facts to which it refers are within his
experience. The more we increase his knowledge of facts, the more we
should exercise him in reasoning upon them; but we should teach him to
examine carefully before he admits any thing to be a fact, or any
assertion to be true. Experiment, as to substances, is the test of
truth; and attention to his own feelings, as to matters of feeling.
Comparison of the evidence of others with the general laws of nature,
which he has learned from his own observation, is another mode of
obtaining an accurate knowledge of facts. M. Condillac, in his Art of
Reasoning, maintains, that the evidence of reason depends solely upon
our perception of the _identity_, or, to use a less formidable word,
_sameness_, of one proposition with another. "A demonstration," he
says, "is only a chain of propositions, in which the same ideas,
passing from one to the other, differ only because they are
differently expressed; the evidence of any reasoning consists solely
in its identity."
M. Condillac[91] exemplifies this doctrine by translating this
proposition, "The measure of every triangle is the product of its
height by half its base," into self-evident, or, as he calls them,
identical propositions. The whole ultimately referring to the ideas
which we have obtained by our senses of a triangle; of its base, of
measure, height, and number. If a child had not previously acquired
any one of these ideas, it would be in vain to explain one term by
another, or to translate one phrase or proposition into another; they
might be identical, but they would not be self-evident propositions to
the pupil; and no conclusion, except what relates merely to words,
could be formed from such reasoning. The moral which we should draw
from Condillac's observations for Practical Education must be, that
clear ideas should first be acquired by the exercise of the senses,
and that afterwards, when we reason about things in words, we should
use few and accurate terms, that we may have as little trouble as
possible in changing or translating one phrase or proposition into
another.
Children, if they are not overawed by authority, if they are
encouraged in the habit of observing their own sensations, and if they
are taught precision in the use of the words by which they describe
them, will probably reason accurately where their own feelings are
concerned.
In appreciating the testimony of others, and in judging of chances and
probability, we must not expect our pupils to proceed very rapidly.
There is more danger that they should overrate, than that they should
undervalue, the evidence of others; because, as we formerly stated, we
take it for granted, that they have had little experience of
falsehood. We should, to preserve them from credulity, excite them in
all cases where it can be obtained, never to rest satisfied without
the strongest species of evidence, that of their own senses. If a
child says, "I am sure of such a thing," we should immediately examine
into his reasons for believing it. "Mr. A. or Mr. B. told me so," is
not a sufficient cause of belief, unless the child has had long
experience of A. and B.'s truth and accuracy; and, at all events, the
indolent habit of relying upon the assertions of others, instead of
verifying them, should not be indulged.
It would be waste of time to repeat those experiments, of the truth of
which the uniform experience of our lives has convinced us: we run no
hazard, for instance, in believing any one who simply asserts, that
they have seen an apple fall from a tree; this assertion agrees with
the great natural _law of gravity_, or, in other words, with the
uniform experience of mankind: but if any body told us, that they had
seen an apple hanging self-poised in the air, we should reasonably
suspect the truth of their observation, or of their evidence. This is
the first rule which we can most readily teach our pupils in judging
of evidence. We are not speaking of children from four to six years
old, for every thing is almost equally extraordinary to them; but,
when children are about ten or eleven, they have acquired a sufficient
variety of facts to form comparisons, and to judge to a certain degree
of the probability of any new fact that is related. In reading and in
conversation we should now exercise them in forming judgments, where
we know that they have the means of comparison. "Do you believe such a
thing to be true? and why do you believe it? Can you account for such
a thing?" are questions we should often ask at this period of their
education. On hearing extraordinary facts, some children will not be
satisfied with vague assertions; others content themselves with
saying, "It is so, I read it in a book." We should have little hopes
of those who swallow every thing they read in a book; we are always
pleased to see a child hesitate and doubt, and require positive proof
before he believes. The taste for the marvellous, is strong in
ignorant minds; the wish to account for every new appearance,
characterizes the cultivated pupil.
A lady told a boy of nine years old (S----) the following story, which
she had just met with in "The Curiosities of Literature." An officer,
who was confined in the Bastille, used to amuse himself by playing on
the flute: one day he observed, that a number of spiders came down
from their webs, and hung round him as if listening to his music; a
number of mice also came from their holes, and retired as soon as he
stopped. The officer had a great dislike to mice; he procured a cat
from the keeper of the prison, and when the mice were entranced by his
music, he let the cat out amongst them.
S---- was much displeased by this man's treacherous conduct towards
the poor mice, and his indignation for some moments suspended his
reasoning faculty; but, when S---- had sufficiently expressed his
indignation against the officer in the affair of the mice, he began
to question the truth of the story; and he said, that he did not think
it was certain, that the mice and spiders came to listen to the music.
"I do not know about the mice," said he, "but I think, perhaps, when
the officer played upon the flute, he set the air in motion, and shook
the cobwebs, so as to disturb the spiders." We do not, nor did the
child think, that this was a satisfactory account of the matter; but
we mention it as an instance of the love of investigation, which we
wish to encourage.
The difficulty of judging concerning the truth of evidence increases,
when we take moral causes into the account. If we had any suspicion,
that a man who told us that he had seen an apple fall from a tree, had
himself pulled the apple down and stolen it, we should set the
probability of his telling a falsehood, and his motive for doing so,
against his evidence; and though according to the natural physical
course of things, there would be no improbability in his story, yet
there might arise improbability from his character for dishonesty; and
thus we should feel ourselves in doubt concerning the fact. But if two
people agreed in the same testimony, our doubt would vanish; the
dishonest man's doubtful evidence would be corroborated, and we should
believe, notwithstanding his general character, in the truth of his
assertion in this instance. We could make the matter infinitely more
complicated, but what has been said will be sufficient to suggest to
preceptors the difficulty which their young and inexperienced pupils
must feel, in forming judgments of facts where physical and moral
probabilities are in direct opposition to each other.
We wish that a writer equal to such a task would write trials for
children as exercises for their judgment; beginning with the simplest,
and proceeding gradually to the more complicated cases in which moral
reasonings can be used. We do not mean, that it would be advisable to
initiate young readers in the technical forms of law; but the general
principles of justice, upon which all law is founded, might, we
think, be advantageously exemplified. Such trials would entertain
children extremely. There is a slight attempt at this kind of
composition, we mean in a little trial in Evenings at Home; and we
have seen children read it with great avidity. Cyrus's judgment about
the two coats, and the ingenious story of the olive merchant's cause,
rejudged by the sensible child in the Arabian Tales, have been found
highly interesting to a young audience.
We should prefer truth to fiction: if we could select any instances
from real life, any trials suited to the capacity of young people,
they would be preferable to any which the most ingenious writer could
invent for our purpose. A gentleman who has taken his two sons, one of
them ten, and the other fifteen years old, to hear trials at his
county assizes, found by the account which the boys gave of what they
had heard, that they had been interested, and that they were capable
of understanding the business.
Allowance must be made at first for the bustle and noise of a public
place, and for the variety of objects which distract the attention.
Much of the readiness of forming judgments depends upon the power of
discarding and obliterating from our mind all the superfluous
circumstances; it may be useful to exercise our pupils, by telling
them now and then stories in the confused manner in which they are
sometimes related by puzzled witnesses; let them reduce the
heterogeneous circumstances to order, make a clear statement of the
case for themselves, and try if they can point out the facts on which
the decision principally rests. This is not merely education for a
lawyer; the powers of reasoning and judgment, when we have been
exercised in this manner, may be turned to any art or profession. We
should, if we were to try the judgment of children, observe, whether
in unusual circumstances they can apply their former principles, and
compare the new objects that are placed before them without
perplexity. We have sometimes found, that on subjects entirely new to
them, children, who have been used to reason, can lay aside the
circumstances that are not essential, and form a distinct judgment for
themselves, independently of the opinion of others.
Last winter the entertaining life of the celebrated miser Mr. Elwes
was read aloud in a family, in which there were a number of children.
Mr. Elwes, once, as he was _walking_ home on a dark night, in London,
ran against a chair pole and bruised both his shins. His friends sent
for a surgeon. Elwes was alarmed at the idea of expense, and he laid
the surgeon the amount of his bill, that the leg which he took under
his own protection would get well sooner than that which was put under
the surgeon's care; at the same time Mr. Elwes promised to put nothing
to the leg of which he took charge. Mr. Elwes favourite leg got well
sooner than that which the surgeon had undertaken to cure, and Mr.
Elwes won his wager. In a note upon this transaction his biographer
says, "This wager would have been a bubble bet if it had been brought
before the Jockey-club, because Mr. Elwes, though he promised to put
nothing to the leg under his own protection, took Velnos' vegetable
sirup during the time of its cure."
C---- (a girl of twelve years old) observed when this anecdote was
read, that "still the wager was a fair wager, because _the medicine_
which Mr. Elwes took, if it was of any use, must have been of use to
both legs; therefore the surgeon and Mr. Elwes had equal advantage
from it." C---- had never heard of the Jockey-club, or of bubble bets
before, and she used the word _medicine_, because she forgot the name
of Velnos' vegetable sirup.
We have observed,[92] that works of criticism are unfit for children,
and teach them rather to remember what others say of authors, than to
judge of the books themselves impartially: but, when we object to
works of criticism, we do not mean to object to criticism; we think it
an excellent exercise for the judgment, and we have ourselves been so
well corrected, and so kindly assisted by the observations of young
critics, that we cannot doubt their capacity. This book has been read
to a jury of young critics, who gave their utmost attention to it for
about half an hour at a sitting, and many amendments have been made
from their suggestions. In the chapter on obstinacy, for instance,
when we were asserting, that children sometimes forget their old bad
habits, and do not consider these as a part of themselves, there was
this allusion.
"As the snake, when he casts his skin, leaves the slough behind him,
and winds on his way in new and beautiful colours."
The moment this sentence was read, it was objected to by the audience.
Mr. ---- objected to the word slough, as an ill sounding, disagreeable
word, and which conveyed at first to the eye the idea of a wet boggy
place; such as the slough of Despond. At last S----, who had been
pondering over the affair in silence, exclaimed, "But I think there's
another fault in the allusion; do not snakes cast their skins every
year? Then these _new and beautiful colours_, which are the good
habits, must be thrown aside and forgotten the next time; but that
should not be."
This criticism appeared conclusive even to the author, and the
sentence was immediately expunged.
When young people have acquired a command of language, we must be
careful lest their fluency and their ready use of synonymous
expressions should lessen the accuracy of their reasoning, Mr. Horne
Tooke has ably shown the connection between the study of language and
the art of reasoning. It is not necessary to make our pupils profound
grammarians, or etymologists, but attention to the origin,
abbreviations, and various meanings of words, will assist them not
only to speak, but to think and argue with precision. This is not a
study of abstract speculation, but of practical, daily utility; half
the disputes, and much of the misery of the world, originate and
perpetuate themselves by the inaccurate use of words. One party uses a
word in _this_ sense, the opposite party uses the same word in another
sense; all their reasonings appear absurd to each other; and, instead
of explaining them, they quarrel. This is not the case merely in
_philosophical_ disputes between authors, but it happens continually
in the busy, active scenes of life. Even whilst we were writing this
passage, in the newspaper of to-day, we met with an instance that is
sufficiently striking.
"The accusation against me," says Sir Sidney Smith, in his excellent
letter to Pichegru, expostulating upon his unmerited confinement,
"brought forward by _your_ justice of the peace, was, that I was the
enemy of the republic. You know, general, that with military men, the
word _enemy_ has merely a technical signification, without expressing
the least character of hatred. You will readily admit this principle,
the _result_ of which is, that I ought not to be persecuted for the
injury I have been enabled to do whilst I carried arms against you."
Here the argument between two generals, one of whom is pleading for
his liberty, if not for his life, turns upon the meaning and
construction of a single word. Accuracy of reasoning, and some
knowledge of language, may, it appears, be of essential service in all
professions.
It is not only necessary to attend to the exact meaning which is
avowedly affixed to any terms used in argument, but is also useful to
attend to the thoughts which are often suggested to the disputants by
certain words. Thus, the words happiness and beauty, suggest, in
conversation, very different ideas to different men; and in arguing,
concerning these, they could never come to a conclusion. Even persons
who agree in the same definition of a word, frequently do not
sufficiently attend to the ideas which the word suggests; to the
association of thoughts and emotions which it excites; and,
consequently, they cannot strictly abide by their own definition, nor
can they discover where the errour lies. We have observed,[93] that
the imagination is powerfully affected by words that suggest long
trains of ideas; our reasonings are influenced in the same manner, and
the elliptical figures of speech are used in reasoning as well as in
poetry.
"I would do so and so, if I were Alexander."
"And so would I, if I were Parmenio;"
is a short reply, which suggests a number of ideas, and a train of
reasoning. To those who cannot supply the intermediate ideas, the
answer would not appear either sublime or rational. Young people, when
they appear to admire any compressed reasoning, should be encouraged
to show that they can supply the thoughts and reasons that are not
expressed. Vivacious children, will be disgusted, however, if they are
required to detail upon the subject;[94] all that is necessary, is to
be sure that they actually comprehend what they admire.
Sometimes a question that appears simple, involves the consideration
of others which are difficult. Whenever a preceptor cannot go to the
bottom of the business, he will do wisely to say so at once to his
pupil, instead of attempting a superficial or evasive reply. For
instance, if a child was to hear that the Dutch burn and destroy
quantities of spice, the produce of their India islands, he would
probably express some surprise, and perhaps some indignation. If a
preceptor were to say, "The Dutch have a right to do what they please
with what is their own, and the spice is their own," his pupil would
not yet be satisfied; he would probably say, "Yes, they have a right
to do what they please with what is their own; but why should they
destroy what is useful?" The preceptor might answer, if he chose to
make a foolish answer, "The Dutch follow their own interest in
burning the spice; they sell what remains at a higher price; the
market would be overstocked if they did not burn some of their spice."
Even supposing the child to understand the terms, this would not be a
satisfactory answer; nor could a satisfactory answer be given, without
discussing the nature of commerce, and the _justice_ of monopolies.
Where one question in this manner involves another, we should postpone
the discussion, if it cannot be completely made; the road may be just
pointed out, and the pupil's curiosity may be excited to future
inquiry. It is even better to be ignorant, than to have superficial
knowledge.
A philosopher, who himself excelled in accuracy of reasoning,
recommends the study of mathematics, to improve the acuteness and
precision of the reasoning faculty.[95] To study any thing accurately,
will have an excellent effect upon the mind; and we may afterwards
direct the judgment to whatever purposes we please. It has often been
remarked, as a reproach upon men of science and literature, that those
who judge extremely well of books, and of abstract philosophical
questions, do not show the same judgment in the active business of
life: a man, undoubtedly, may be a good mathematician, a good critic,
an excellent writer, and may yet not show, or rather not employ, much
judgment in his conduct: his powers of reasoning cannot be deficient;
the habit of employing those powers in conducting himself, he should
have been taught by early education. Moral reasoning, and the habit of
acting in consequence of the conviction of the judgment, we call
prudence; a virtue of so much consequence to all the other virtues; a
virtue of so much consequence to ourselves and to our friends, that it
surely merits a whole chapter to itself in Practical Education.
FOOTNOTES:
[85] V. Chapter on Attention.
[86] V. Tasks.
[87] Chapter on Acquaintance.
[88] V. Stewart.
[89] A Naturalist's Calendar, by the late Rev. Gilbert White, M. A.
published by Dr. Aikin, printed for B. and J. White, Fleet Street.
[90] V. Deinology; where there are many entertaining examples of the
figures of rhetoric.
[91] Une demonstration est donc une suite de propositions, ou les
memes idees passant de l'une a l'autre, ne different que parce
qu'elles sont enoncees differement; et l'evidence d'un raisonnement
consiste uniquement dans l'identite. V. Art de Raisonner, p. 2.
[92] V. Chapter on Books.
[93] V. Chapter on Imagination.
[94] V. Attention.
[95] Locke. Essay on the Conduct of the Human Understanding.