immediate personal charge of the king. Dr. Willis had been educated to
the church, and a living had been assigned him; but, becoming interested
in the subject of insanity, he had established an asylum, and gained a
distinguished position in his new profession. The suffering monarch was
sadly puzzled to know why Dr. Willis was with him, and how he had been
brought there. The custodian was not very definite in his explanations,
but suggested that he came to comfort the king in his afflictions; and,
said he, "You know that our Saviour went about doing good."--"Yes,"
said the king, "but he never received seven hundred pounds a year for
it." This was good wit, especially good royal wit, because unexpected.
But there is no reason why actual monarchs of England, or coming
monarchs of America, should be treated or taught gratuitously. The
compensation, the living of the teacher, is one thing; the motive may
and ought to be quite different. The teacher should labor in his
profession because he loves it, because he does good in it, and because
he can in that sphere answer a high purpose of existence. These being
the motives of the teacher, he should educate, draw out, corresponding
ones in his pupils.
The teacher is not to create--he is to draw out. Every child has the
germs of many, and, it may be, quite different qualities of character.
Look at the infant. It is so constituted that it may have a stalwart
arm, broad chest, and well-rounded, vigorous muscles; but yet it may
come to adult age destitute of these physical excellences. Yet you will
not say that the elements did not exist in the child. They were there;
but, being neglected, they followed a law of our nature, that the
development of a faculty depends upon its exercise. Nature will develop
some quality in every man; for our existence demands the exercise of a
part of our faculties. The faculty used will be developed in excess as
compared with other faculties. It is the business of the teacher to aid
nature. For the most part, he must stimulate, encourage, draw out,
develop, though it may happen that he will be required occasionally to
check a tendency which threatens to absorb or overshadow all the others.
He must, at any rate, prevent the growth of those powers which tend
towards the savage state.
While the teacher creates nothing, he must so draw out the qualities of
the child that it may attain to perfect manhood. He moulds, he renders
symmetrical, the physical, the intellectual, the moral man. Nature
sometimes does this herself, as though she would occasionally furnish a
model man for our imitation, as she has given lines, and forms, and
colors, which all artists of all ages shall copy, but cannot equal. But,
do the best we can, education is more or less artificial; and hence the
child of the school will suffer by comparison with the child of nature,
when she presents him in her best forms.
In a summer ramble I met a man so dignified as to attract the notice and
command the respect of all who knew him. I was with him upon the lakes
and mountains several days and nights, and never for a moment did the
manliness of his character desert him. I have seen no other person who
could boast such physical beauty. Accustomed to a hunter's life;
carrying often a pack of thirty or forty or fifty pounds; sleeping upon
the ground or a bed of boughs; able, if necessity of interest demanded,
to travel in the woods the ordinary distance which a good horse would
pass over upon our roads; with every organ of the arm, the leg, the
trunk, fully expressed; with a manly, kind, intelligent countenance, a
beard uncut, in the vigor of early manhood, he seemed a model which the
statuaries of Greece and Rome desired to see, but did not. He had at
once the bearing of a soldier and the characteristics of a gentleman. He
was ignorant of grammatical rules and definitions, yet his conversation
would have been accepted in good circles of New England society. This
man had his faults, but they were not grievous faults, nor did they in
any manner affect the qualities of which I have spoken.
This is what nature sometimes does; this is what we should always strive
to do, extending this symmetry, if possible, to the moral as well as to
the intellectual and physical organization. This man is ignorant of
science, of books, of the world of letters, and the world of art, yet we
respect him. Why? Because nature has chosen to illustrate in him her own
principles, power and beauty.
That we may draw out the qualities of the human mind as they exist, we
must first appreciate our influence upon childhood and youth. Our own
experience is the best evidence of what that influence is. All along our
lives the lessons of childhood return to us. The hills and valleys, the
lakes, rivers, and rivulets, of our early home, come not in clearer
visions before us than do the exhortations to industry, the incentives
to progress, the lessons of learning, and the principles of truth,
uttered and offered by the teachers of early years. In the same way the
lines of the poet, the reflections of the philosopher, the calm truths
of the historian, read once and often carelessly, and for many years
forgotten, return as voices of inspiration, and are evermore with us.
That the teacher may have influence, his ear must be open to the voice
of truth, and his mouth must be liberal with words of consolation,
encouragement, and advice. He rules in a little world, and the scales of
justice must be balanced evenly in his hands. He should go in and out
before his scholars free from partiality or prejudice; indifferent to
the voice of envy or detraction; shunning evil and emulous of good;
patient of inquiries in the hours of duty; filled with the spirit of
industry in his moments of leisure; gathering up and spreading before
his pupils the choicest gems of literature, art, and science, that they
may be early and truly inspired with the love of learning.
The public school is a little world, and the teacher rules therein. It
contains the rich and the poor, the virtuous and the corrupt, the
studious and the indifferent, the timid and the brave, the fearful and
the hearts elate with hope and courage. Life is there no cheat; it wears
no mask, it assumes no unnatural positions, but presents itself as it
is. Deformed and repulsive in some of its features, yet to him whose eye
is as quick to discover its beauty as its deformity, its harmony as its
discord, there is always a bright spot on which he may gaze, and a fond
hope to which he may cling. Artificial life, whether in the select
school or the select party, tends to weaken our faith in humanity; and a
want of faith in our race is an omen of ill-success in life. Teachers
should have faith in humanity, and should labor constantly to inspire
others with the belief that the true law of our nature is the law of
progress.
Those who come early in life to the conclusion that the many cannot be
moved by the higher sentiments and ideas which control a few favored
mortals, cease to labor for the advancement of the race. They
consequently lose their hold upon society, and society neglects them.
For such men there can be no success.
Others, like Jefferson and Channing, never lose confidence in their
species, and their species never lose confidence in them. When the
teacher comes to believe that the world is worse than it was, and never
can be better, he need wait for no other evidence that his days of
usefulness are over.
The school-room will teach the child, even as the prison will instruct
maturity and age, that few persons are vicious in the extreme, and that
no one lives without some ennobling traits of character and life. The
teacher's faith is the measure of the teacher's usefulness. It is to him
what conception is to the artist; and, if the sculptor can see the image
of grace and beauty in the fresh-quarried marble, so must the teacher
see the full form of the coming man in the trembling child or awkward
youth.
The teacher ought not to grow old. To be sure, time will lay its hand on
him, as it does on others; but he should always cultivate in himself the
feelings, sentiments, and even ambitions of youth. Far enough removed
from his pupils in age and position to stimulate them by his example,
and encourage them by his precepts, he should yet be so near them that
he can appreciate the steps and struggles which mark their progress in
the path of learning. There must be some points of contact, something
common to teacher and pupils. Indeed, for us all it is true that age
loses nothing of its dignity or respect when it accepts the sentiments
and sports of youth and childhood. But above all should the teacher
remember the common remark of La Place, in his Celestial Mechanics, and
the observation of Dr. Bowditch upon it. "Whenever I meet in La Place
with the words, 'Thus it plainly appears,' I am sure that hours, and
perhaps days, of hard study, will alone enable me to discover _how_ it
plainly appears." The good teacher will seek first to estimate each
scholar's capacity, and then adapt his instructions accordingly. Though
he may be far removed from his pupils in attainments, he should be able
to mark the steps by which ordinary minds pass from common principles to
their noblest application.
This observation may by some be deemed unnecessary; but there are living
teachers who, having mastered the noblest sciences, are unable to
appreciate and lead ordinary minds.
The teacher must be in earnest. This is the price of success in every
profession. The law, it is said, is a jealous mistress, and permits no
rivals; the indifferent, careless minister is but a blind leader of the
blind, and the "undevout astronomer is mad."
Sincerity of soul and earnestness of purpose will achieve success.
According to an eminent authority, there are three kinds of great men:
those who are born great, those who achieve greatness, and those who
have greatness thrust upon them. If we take greatness of birth to be in
greatness of soul and intellect, and not in the mere accident of
ancestry, it is such only who have greatness thrust upon them; for the
world, after all, rarely makes a mistake in this respect. But there is a
larger and a nobler class, whose greatness, whatever it is, must be
achieved; and to this class I address myself.
Success is practicable. There need be no failures. A man of reflection
will soon find whether he can succeed in his pursuit; if not, he has
mistaken his calling, or neglected the proper means of success. In
either case, a remedy is at hand. If a teacher is indifferent to his
calling, and cannot bring himself to pursue it with ardor, it is a duty
to himself, to his profession, to his pupils, to abandon it at once. It
is idle to suppose that we are doing good in a work to which we are not
attracted by our sympathies, and in which we are not sustained by our
faith and hopes. The men who succeed are the men who believe that they
can succeed. The men who fail are those to whom success would have been
a surprise. There is no doubt some appropriate pursuit in life for every
man of ordinary talents; but no one can tell whether he has found it for
himself until he has made a vigorous and persistent application of his
powers. If the teacher fail to do this, he need not seek for success in
another profession, when he has already declined to pay its price.
The choice of a profession is one of the great acts of life. It should
not be done hastily, nor without a careful examination and just
appreciation of the elements of character. A competent teacher may aid
his pupils in this respect. A mistake in occupation is a calamity to the
individual, and an injury to the public. Our school-rooms contain
artists, farmers, mathematicians, mechanics, poets, lawyers, statesmen,
orators, and warriors; but some one must do for them what Shakspeare
says the monarch of the hive has done for all his subjects--assigned
them
"Officers of sorts;
Where some, like magistrates, correct at home;
Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad;
Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings,
Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds;
Which pillage, they with merry march bring home
To the tent-royal of their emperor;
Who, busied in his majesty, surveys
The singing masons, building roofs of gold;
The civil citizens kneading up the honey;
The poor mechanic porters crowding in
Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate;
The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum,
Delivering o'er to executors pale
The lazy, yawning drone."
Teachers are so situated that they may give wholesome advice; while
parents--and I say it with respect--are quite likely, under the
influence of an instinctive belief that their children are fitted for
any place within the range of human labor or human ambition, to make
fatal mistakes. While all pursuits and professions, if honest, are
equally honorable, the individual selection must be determined by taste,
circumstances, individual habits, and often by physical facts. It is not
for one person to do everything, but it is for each person to do at
least one thing well. As a general rule, the painter, who has spent his
youth and manhood in studying the canvas, had better not study the
stars; and the artist, who has power to bring the form of life from the
cold marble, has no right to solve problems in geometry, weigh planets,
or calculate eclipses. The proper choice of the business of life may do
much to perfect our social system, and it will certainly advance our
material prosperity. There is everywhere in our civilization mutual
dependence, and there must be mutual support. In no other way can we
advance to our destiny as becomes an enlightened people.
But all of life and education, either to pupil, teacher, or man, is not
to be found in the school-room. The common period of school-life is
sufficient only for elementary education. The average school-going
period is ten years. Of this, one-half is spent in vacations and
absences, so that each child has about five years of school-life. Only
one-fourth of each day is spent in the school-room; and the continuous
attendance, therefore, is about fifteen months, equal to the time which
most of us give to sleep, every four or five years of our existence.
This view leads me to say again that it is the duty of the teacher in
this brief period to lay a good foundation for subsequent scientific and
classical culture. More than this cannot be accomplished; and, where
this is accomplished, and a taste for learning is formed, and the means
to be employed are comprehended, a satisfactory school-life has been
passed.
Education--universal education--is a necessity; and, as there is no
royal road to learning, so there is no aristocracy of mental power
depending upon social or pecuniary distinctions. The New England
colonies, and Massachusetts first of all, established the system of
education now called universal or public. It was not then easy to
comprehend the principle which lies at the foundation of a system of
public instruction. We are first to consider that a system of public
instruction implies a system of universal taxation. The only rule on
which taxes can be levied justly is that the object sought is of public
necessity, or manifest public convenience. It quite often happens that
men of our own generation are insensible or indifferent to the true
relation of the citizen to the cause of education. Some seem to imagine
that their interest in schools, and of course their moral obligation to
support them, ceases with the education of their own children. This is a
great error. The public has no right to levy a tax for the education of
any particular child, or family of children; but its right of taxation
commences when the education or plan of education is universal, and
ceases whenever the plan is limited, or the operations of the system are
circumscribed.
No man can be taxed properly because he has children of his own to
educate; this may be a reason with some for cheerful payment, but it has
in itself no element of a just principle. When, however, the people
decide that education is a matter of public concern, then taxation for
its promotion rests upon the same foundation as the most important
departments of a government. Yet, many generations of men came and
passed away before the doctrine was received that, as a public matter, a
man is equally interested in the education of his neighbor's children
as in the education of his own. As parents, we have a special interest
in our children; as citizens, it is this, that they may be honest,
industrious, and effective in their labors. This interest we have in all
children.
The safety of our persons and property demands their honesty; our right
to be exempt from pauper and criminal taxes requires habits of universal
industry; and our part in the general wealth and prosperity is increased
by the intelligent application of manual labor in all the walks of life.
A man may, indeed, be proud of the attainments of his family, as men are
often proud of their ancestry; yet they possess little real value as a
family possession. The pride of ancestry has no value; it
"Is like a circle in the water,
Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself
Till, by broad-spreading, it disperse to naught."
I pass from this digression to the statement that the chief means of
self-improvement are five: Observation, Conversation, Reading, Memory,
and Reflection.
It is an art to observe well--to go through the world with our eyes
open--to see what is before us. All men do not see alike, nor see the
same things. Our powers of observation take on the hues of daily life.
The artist, in a strange city or foreign land, observes only the
specimens of taste and beauty or their opposites; the mechanic studies
anew the principles of his science as applied to the purposes of life;
the architect transfers to his own mind the images of churches,
cathedrals, temples, and palaces; while the philanthropist rejoices in
cellars and lanes, that he may know how poverty and misery change the
face and heart of man.
An American artist, following the lead of Mr. Jefferson, has beautifully
illustrated the nature of the power of observation. We do not see even
the faces of our common friends alike. The stranger observes a family
likeness which is invisible to the familiar acquaintance. The former
sees only the few points of agreement, and decides upon them; while the
latter has observed and studied the more numerous points of difference,
until he is blind to all others. Hence a portrait may appear true to a
stranger, which, to an intimate acquaintance, is barren in expression,
and destitute of character. Therefore, the artist wisely and properly
esteemed himself successful when his work was approved by the wife or
the mother. The world around us is full of knowledge. We should so
behold it as to be instructed by all that is. The distant star paints
its image on our eye with a ray of light sent forth thousands of years
ago; yet its lesson is not of itself, but of the universe and its
mysteries, and of the Creator out of whose divine hand all things have
come.
Conversation is at once an art, an accomplishment, and a science. It
leads to valuable practical results. It has a place, and by no means an
inferior place, in the schools. Facts stated, questions proposed, or
theories illustrated, in conversation, are permanently impressed upon
the mind. It is in the power of the teacher to communicate much
information in this way, and it is in the power of us all to make
conversation a means of improvement.
But, when the pupil leaves the school, _reading_, so systematic and
thorough as to be called study, is, no doubt, the best culture he can
enjoy. In the first place, books are accessible to all, and they may be
had at all times. They can be used in moments of leisure, in solitude,
in the hours when sleep is too proud to wait on us, and when friends are
absent or indifferent to our lot. Conversation may be patronizing, or it
may leave us a debtor; when the book-seller's bill is settled, we have
no account with the author.
If I am permitted to speak to all, pupils as well as teachers, I am
inclined to say, "Do not consider your education finished when you leave
home and the school." Your labors of a practical sort ought then to
commence. With system and care, you may read works of literature and
history, or devote yourself to mathematics in the higher departments of
science. As a general thing, however, it is not wise to attempt too much
at once. The custom of the schools is to require each pupil to attend to
several branches at the same time; but this course cannot be recommended
to adult persons with disciplined minds. It seems better to select one
subject, and make it the leading topic, for a time, of our studies and
thoughts. It may also be proper to suggest that works of fiction,
poetry, and romance, ought not to be read until the mind is well
disciplined, and a good foundation of solid learning is laid. Such works
tend to make one's style of thought and writing easy, flowing, and
agreeable; but they are also calculated to make us dissatisfied with the
more substantial labors of intellectual life. Having obtained the
elements of learning, one thing is absolutely essential--system in
study. I fancy that there are two prevalent errors among us. First, that
men often attain intellectual eminence without study; and, secondly,
that exclusive devotion to books is the price of success. Whoever
neglects study, whatever his natural abilities, will find himself
distanced by inferior men; and, on the other hand, whoever will devote
three hours each day to the systematic improvement of his mind will
finally be numbered among the leading persons of the age. But, while we
observe, converse, and read, the power of memory and the habit of
reflection should be cultivated. The habit of reflection is a great aid
to the memory, and together they enable us to use the knowledge we daily
acquire.
No previous age of the world has offered so great encouragement, whether
in fame or money, to men of science and literature, as the present.
Formerly, authors flourished under the patronage of princes, or withered
by their neglect; but now they are encouraged and paid by the people,
and reap where they have sown, whether kings will or not. The poverty of
authors was once proverbial; but now the only authors who are poor are
poor authors. Good learning, integrity, and ability, are well
compensated in all the professions. Some one remarked to Mr. Webster,
"That the profession of the law was crowded."--"Yes," said he, "rather
crowded below, but there is plenty of room above." Littleness and
mediocrity always seek the paths worn by superior men; and the truly
illustrious in literature and science are few in number compared with
those who attempt to tread in the footsteps of their illustrious
predecessors; but none of these things ought to deter young men of
ability, industry, and integrity, from boldly entering the lists,
without fear of failure. The world is usually just, and it will
ultimately award the tokens of its approbation to those who deserve
success.
And there is a happy peculiarity in talent,--the variety is so great
that the competition is small. Of all the living authors, are there two
so alike that they can be considered competitors or rivals? The nation
has applauded and set the seal of its approbation upon the eloquence of
Henry, Otis, Adams, Ames, Pinckney, Wirt, Calhoun, Clay, and Webster,
not because these men resembled one another, but because each had
peculiarities and excellences of his own. The same variety of excellence
is seen in living orators, and in all the eloquence and learning of
antiquity which time has spared and history has transmitted to us. It is
said that when Aristides wrote the sentence of his own banishment for a
humble and unknown enemy, the only reason given by the peasant was that
he was "tired with hearing him called the Just." And the world sometimes
appears to be restive under the influence of men of talent; but that
influence, whether always agreeable or not, is both permanent and
beneficial.