strong contrast with “the natural”? Here again we may turn to Wordsworth.
After pointing to the harmony of the visible world, and declaring his
faith that “every flower enjoys the air it breathes,” he goes on—
“If this belief from heaven be sent,
If this be Nature’s holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament,
What Man has made of Man?”
This passage might be taken as the motto of Rousseauism. According to
that philosophy man is the great disturber and perverter of the natural
order. Other animals simply follow nature, but man has no instinct,
and is thus left to find his own way. What is the consequence? A very
different authority from Rousseau, the poet Cowper, tells us in language
which Rousseau might have adopted—
“Reasoning at every step he treads,
Man yet mistakes his way:
While meaner things whom instinct leads,
Are seldom known to stray.”
Man has to investigate the sequences of Nature, and to arrange them for
himself. In this way he brings about a great number of foreseen results,
but in doing this he also brings about perhaps even a greater number of
unforeseen results; and alas! it turns out that many, if not most, of
these unforeseen results are the reverse of beneficial.
§ 19. Another thing is observable. Other animals are guided by instinct;
we, for the most part, are guided by tradition. Man, it has been said,
is the only animal that capitalises his discoveries. If we capitalised
nothing but our discoveries, this accumulation would be an immense
advantage to us; but we capitalise also our conjectures, our ideals, our
habits, and unhappily, in many cases, our blunders.[212] So a great deal
of action which is purely mischievous in its effects, comes not from our
own mistakes, but from those of our ancestors. The consequence is, that
what with our own mistakes and the mistakes we inherit, we sometimes go
far indeed out of the course which “Nature” has prescribed for us.
§ 20. The generation which found a mouthpiece in Rousseau had become
firmly convinced, not indeed of its own stupidity, but of the stupidity
of all its predecessors; and the vast patrimony bequeathed to it seemed
nothing but lumber or worse. So Rousseau found an eager and enthusiastic
audience when he proposed a return to Nature, in other words, to give
up all existing customs, and for the most part to do nothing and “give
Nature a chance.” His boy of twelve years old was to have been taught
_nothing_. Up to that age the great art of education, says Rousseau, is
to do everything by doing nothing. The first part of education should be
purely negative.
§ 21. Rousseau then was the first who escaped completely from the notion
of the Renascence, that man was mainly a _learning_ and _remembering_
animal. But if he is not this, what is he? We must ascertain, said
Rousseau, not _a priori_, but by observation. We need a new art, the art
of observing children.
§ 22. Now at length there was hope for the Science of Education. This
science must be based on a study of the subject on whom we have to act.
According to Locke there is such variation not only in the circumstances,
but also in the personal peculiarities of individuals, that general laws
either do not exist or can never be ascertained. But this variation is
no less observable in the human body, and the art of the physician has
to conform itself to a science which is still very far from perfect. The
physician, however, does not despair. He carefully avails himself of such
science as we now have, and he makes a study of the human body in order
to increase that science. When a few more generations have passed away,
the medical profession will very likely smile at mistakes made by the old
Victorian doctors. But, meantime, we profit by the science of medicine
in its present state, and we find that this science has considerably
increased the average duration of human life. We therefore require every
practitioner to have made a scientific study of his calling, and to
have had a training in both the theory and practice of it. The science
of education cannot be said to have done much for us at present, but
it will do more in the future, and might do more now if no one were
allowed to teach before he or she had been trained in the best theory and
practice we have. Since the appearance of the Emile the best educators
have studied the subject on whom they had to act, and they have been
learning more and more of the laws or sequences which affect the human
mind and the human body. The marvellous strides of science in every other
department encourages us to hope that it will make great advances in the
field of education where it is still so greatly needed. Perhaps the day
may come when a Pestalozzi may be considered even by his contemporaries
on an equality with a Napoleon, and the human race may be willing to
give to the art of instruction the same amount of time, money, thought,
and energy, which in our day have been devoted with such tremendous
success to the art of destruction. It is already dawning on the general
consciousness that in education as in physical science “we conquer Nature
by obeying her,” and we are learning more and more how to obey her.
§ 23. Rousseau’s great work was first, to expose the absurdities of the
school-room, and second, to set the educator on studying the laws of
nature in the human mind and body. He also drew attention to the child’s
restless activity. He would also (like Locke before him), make the young
learner his own teacher.
§ 24. There is another way in which the appearance of the Emile was,
as the Germans say, “epoch-making.” From the time of the earliest
Innovators, we have seen that “Things not Words,” had been the war-cry of
a strong party of Reformers. But _things_ had been considered merely as
a superior means of instruction. Rousseau first pointed out the intimate
relation that exists between children and the material world around them.
Children had till then been thought of only as immature and inferior men.
Since his day an English poet has taught us that in some ways the man is
far inferior to the child, “the things which we have seen we now can see
no more,” and that
“nothing can bring back the hour
“Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.”
Rousseau had not Wordsworth’s gifts, but he, too, observed that childhood
is the age of strong impressions from without and that its material
surroundings affect it much more acutely than they will in after life.
Which of us knows as much about our own house and furniture as our
children know? Still more remarkable is the sympathy children have with
animals. If a cat comes into a room where there are grown people and also
a child, which sees the cat first? which observes it most accurately?
Now, this intimate relation of the child with its surroundings plays a
most important part in its education. The educator may, if so minded,
ignore this altogether, and stick to grammar, dates, and county towns,
but if he does so the child’s real education will not be much affected
by him. Rousseau saw this clearly, and wished to use “things” not for
instruction but for education. Their special function was to train the
senses.
§ 25. Perhaps it is not too much to say of Rousseau that he was the first
who gave up thinking of the child as a being whose chief faculty was the
faculty of remembering, and thought of him rather as a being who feels
and reflects, acts and invents.
§ 26. But if the thought may be traced back to Rousseau, it was, as left
by him, quite crude or rather embryonic. Since his time this conception
of the young has been taken up and moulded into a fair commencement of a
science of education. This commencement is now occupying the attention
of thinkers such as Herbert Spencer, and much may be expected from it
even in the immediate future. For the science so far as it exists we are
indebted mainly to the two Reformers with whom I will conclude—Pestalozzi
and Froebel.
§ 27. Pestalozzi, like Comenius more than 100 years before him, conceived
of education for all. “Every human being,” said he, “has a claim to a
judicious development of his faculties.” Every child must go to school.
But the word _school_ includes a great variety of institutions. The
object these have in view differs immensely. With us the main object in
some schools seems to be to prepare boys to compete at an early age for
entrance scholarships awarded to the greatest proficients in Latin and
Greek. In other schools the object is to turn the children out “good
scholars” in another sense; that is, the school is held to be successful
when the boys and girls acquire skill in the arts of reading, writing,
and arithmetic, and can remember a number of facts—facts of history, of
geography, and even of natural science. So the common notion is that what
is wanted in the way of education depends entirely on the child’s social
position. There still linger among us notions derived from the literary
men of the Renascence. We still measure all children by their literary
and mnemonic attainments. We still consider knowledge of Latin and Greek
the highest kind of knowledge. Children are sent to school that they may
not be ignorant.[213] Pestalozzi, who had studied Rousseau, entirely
denied all this. He required that the school-coach should be turned and
started in a new direction. The main object of the school was not to
teach, but to develop, not to _put in_ but to _draw out_.
§ 28. The study of nature shows us that every animal comes into the world
with certain faculties or capabilities. There are a set of circumstances
which will develop these capabilities and make the most of them. There
are other circumstances which would impede this development, decrease it,
or even prevent it altogether. All other animals have this development
secured for them by their ordinary environment: but Man, with far higher
capacities, and with immeasurably greater faculties both for good and
evil, is left far more to his own resources than the other animals.
Placed in an almost endless variety of circumstances we have to ascertain
how the development of our offspring may best be brought about. We have
to consider what are the inborn faculties of our children, and also what
aids and what hinders their development. When we have arrived at this
knowledge we must educate them by placing them in the best circumstances
in our power, and then superintending, judiciously and lovingly, the
development of their faculties and of their higher nature.
§ 29. There is, said Pestalozzi, only one way in which faculty can be
developed, and that is by exercise; so his system sought to encourage the
activities of children, and in this respect he was surpassed, as we shall
see, by Froebel. “Dead” knowledge, as it has been called—the knowledge
commonly acquired for examinations, our school-knowledge, in fact—was
despised by Pestalozzi as it had been by Locke and Rousseau before him.
In its place he would put knowledge acquired by “intuition,” by the
spring of the learner’s own intelligence.
§ 30. The conception of every child as an organism and of education as
the process by which the development of that organism is promoted is
found first in Pestalozzi, but it was more consistently thought out by
Froebel. There is, said Froebel, a divine idea for every human being,
for we are all God’s offspring. The object of the education of a human
being is to further the development of his divine idea. This development
is attainable only through action; for the development of every organism
depends on its self-activity. Self-activity then, activity “with a will,”
is the main thing to be cared for in education. The educator has to
direct the children’s activity in such a way that it may satisfy their
instincts, especially the formative and creative instincts. The child
from his earliest years is to be treated as a _doer_ and even a _creator_.
§ 31. Now, at last, we have arrived at the complete antithesis between
the old education and the New. The old education had one object, and that
was learning. Man was a being who learnt and remembered. Education was
a process by which he _learnt_, at first the languages and literatures
of Rome and Greece only; but as time went on the curriculum was greatly
extended. The New Education treats the human being not so much a learner
as a doer and creator. The educator no longer fixes his eyes on the
object—the knowledge, but on the subject—the being to be educated. The
success of the education is not determined by what the educated _know_,
but by what they _do_ and what they _are_. They are well educated when
they love what is good, and have had all their faculties of mind and body
properly developed to do it.
§ 32. The New Education then is “passive, following,” and must be based
on the study of human nature. When we have ascertained what are the
faculties to be developed we must consider further how to foster the
self-activity that will develop them.
§ 33. We have travelled far from Dr. Johnson, who asserted that education
was as well known as it ever could be. Some of us are more inclined to
assert that in his day education was not invented. On the other hand,
there are those who belittle the New Education and endeavour to show
that in it there is nothing new at all. As it seems to me a revolution
of the most salutary kind was made by the thinkers who proposed basing
education on a study of the subject to be educated, and, more than this,
making the process a “following” process with the object of drawing out
self-activity.
§ 34. This change of object must in the end be fruitful in changes
of every kind. But as yet we are only groping our way; and, if I may
give a caution which, in this country at least, is quite superfluous,
we should be cautious, and till we see our way clearly we should try
no great experiment that would destroy our connexion with the past.
Most of our predecessors thought only of knowledge. By a reaction some
of our New Educationists seem to despise knowledge. But knowledge is
necessary, and without some knowledge development would be impossible.
We probably cannot do too much to assist development and encourage
“intuition,” but there is, perhaps, some danger of our losing sight of
truths which schoolroom experience would bring home to us. Even the
clearest “concepts” get hazy again and totally unfit for use, unless they
are permanently fixed in the mind by repetition, which to be effective
must to some extent take the form of _drill_. The practical man, even
the crammer, has here mastered a truth of the teaching art which the
educationist is prone to overlook. And there are, no doubt, other things
which the practical man can teach. But the great thinkers would raise us
to a higher standing-point from which we may see much that will make the
right road clearer to us, and lead us to press forward in it with good
heart and hope.
FINIS.
FOOTNOTES
[1] When the greater part of this volume was already written, Mr. Parker
published his sketch of the history of Classical Education (_Essays on
a Liberal Education_, edited by Farrar). He seems to me to have been
very successful in bringing out the most important features of his
subject, but his essay necessarily shows marks of over-compression. Two
volumes have also lately appeared on _Christian Schools and Scholars_
(Longmans, 1867). Here we have a good deal of information which we want,
and also, it seems to me, a good deal which we do not want. The work
characteristically opens with a 10th century description of the personal
appearance of St. Mark when he landed at Alexandria. The author treats
only of the times which preceded the Council of Trent. A very interesting
account of early English education has been given by Mr. Furnivall, in
the 2nd and 3rd numbers of the _Quarterly Journal of Education_ (1867).
[I did not then know of Dr. Barnard’s works.]
[2] This article is omitted in the last edition.
[3] The rest of this chapter was published in the September, 1880 number
of _Education_. Boston, U.S.A.
[4] On the nature of literature see Cardinal Newman’s “Lectures on the
Nature of a University. University Subjects. II. Literature.”
[5] I see Carlyle has used a similar metaphor in the same connexion:
“Consider the old schoolmen and their pilgrimage towards Truth! the
faithfullest endeavour, incessant unwearied motion; often great natural
vigour, only no progress; nothing but antic feats of one limb poised
against the other; there they balanced, somerseted, and made postures; at
best gyrated swiftly with some pleasure like spinning dervishes and ended
where they began.”—_Characteristics_, Misc., vol. iii, 5.
[6] This illustration was suggested by a similar one in Prof. J. R.
Seeley’s essay “On the teaching of English” in his _Lectures and Essays_,
1870.
[7] Miss J. D. Potter, in “Journal of Education.” London, June, 1879
[8] See Erasmus’s _Ciceronianus_, or account of it, in Henry Barnard’s
_German Teachers_.
[9] “On Abuse of Human Learning,” by Samuel Butler.
[10] Multum ilium profecisse arbitror, qui ante sextum decimum ætatis
annum facultatem duarum linguarum mediocrem assecutus est. (Quoted by
Parker.)
[11] R. Mulcaster’s _Positions_, 1581, p. 30. I have reprinted this book
(Longmans, 1888, price 10_s._).
[12] Sturm’s school “had an European reputation: there were Poles and
Portuguese, Spaniards, Danes, Italians, French and English. But besides
this, it was the model and mother school of a numerous progeny. Sturm
himself organized schools for several towns which applied to him. His
disciples became organizers, rectors, and professors. In short, if
Melanchthon was the instructor, Sturm was the schoolmaster of Germany.
Together with his method, his school-books were spread broadcast over
the land. Both were adopted by Ascham in England, and by Buchanan in
Scotland. Sturm himself was a great man at the imperial court. No
diplomatist passed through Strasburg without stopping to converse with
him. He drew a pension from the King of Denmark, another from the King
of France, a third from the Queen of England, collected political
information for Cardinal Granvella, and was ennobled by Charles V. He
helped to negotiate peace between France and England, and was appointed
to confer with a commission of Cardinals on reunion of the Church. In
short, Sturm knew what he was about as well as most men of his time. Yet
few will be disposed to accept his theory of education, even for the
sixteenth century, as the best. Wherein then lay the mistake?... Sturm
asserted that the proper end of school education is eloquence, or in
modern phrase, a masterly command of language, and that the knowledge of
things mainly belongs to a later stage ... Sturm assumed that Latin is
the language in which eloquence is to be acquired.”
This is from Mr. Charles Stuart Parker’s excellent account of Sturm in
_Essays on a Liberal Education_, edited by Farrar, Essay I., _On History
of Classical Education_, p. 39.
I find from Herbart (_Päd. Schriften_, O. Wilmann’s edition, vol. ij,
229 ff; Beyer’s edition, ij, 321) that the historian, F. H. Ch. Schwarz,
took a very favourable view of Sturm’s work; and both he and Karl Schmidt
give Sturm credit for introducing the two ways of studying an author that
may be carried on at the same time—1st, _statarisch_, _i.e._, reading a
small quantity accurately, and 2nd, _cursorisch_, _i.e._, getting over
the ground. These two kinds, of reading were made much of by J. M. Gesner
(1691-1761). Ernst Laas has written _Die Pädagogik J. Sturms_ which no
doubt does him justice, but I have not seen the book.
[13] Why did Bacon, who spoke slightingly of Sturm (see Parker, in
_Essays on Lib. Ed._), rate the Jesuits so highly? “Consule scholas
Jesuitarum: nihil enim quod in usum venit his melius,” _De Aug._, lib.
iv, cap. iv. See, too, a longer passage in first book of _De Aug._ (about
end of first 1/4), “Quæ nobilissima pars priscæ disciplinæ revocata est
aliquatenus, quasi postliminio, in Jesuitarum collegiis; quorum cum
intueor industriam solertiamque tam in doctrina excolenda quam in moribus
informandis, illud occurrit Agesilai de Pharnabazo, ‘Talis cum sis,
utinam noster esses.’”
[14] (1) Joseph Anton Schmid’s “Niedere Schulen der Jesuiten:”
Regensburg, 1852. (2) Article by Wagenmann in K. A. Schmid’s
“Encyclopädie des Erziehungs-und Unterrichtswesens.” (3) “Ratio atque
Institutio Studiorum Soc. Jesu.” The first edition of this work,
published at Rome in 1585, was suppressed as heretical, because it
contemplated the possibility of differing from St. Thomas Aquinas. The
book is now very scarce. There is a copy in the British Museum. On
comparing it with the folio edition (“Constitutiones,” &c., published
at Prag in 1632), I find many omissions in the latter, some of which
are curious, _e.g._, under “De Matrimonio:”—“Matremne an uxorem
occidere sit gravius, non est hujus loci.” (4) “Parænesis ad Magistros
Scholarum Inferiorum Soc. Jesu, scripta a P. Francisco Sacchino, ex
eâdem Societate.” (5) “Juvencius de Ratione Discendi et Docendi.”
Crétineau-Joly’s “Histoire de la Compagnie de Jésus” (Paris, 1844), I
have not made much use of. Sacchini and Jouvency were both historians of
the Order. The former died in 1625, the latter in 1719. There is a good
sketch of the Jesuit schools, by Andrewes, in Barnard’s _American Journal
of Education_, vol. xiv, 1864, reprinted in the best book I know of in
English on the History of Education, Barnard’s _German Teachers_.
[15] “L’exécution des décrets de 1880 a eu pour résultat la fermeture de
leurs collèges. Mais malgré leur dispersion apparente ils sont encore
plus puissants qu’on ne le croit, et ce serait une erreur de penser que
le dernier mot est dit avec eux.”—_Compayré, in Buisson_, ij, p. 1420.
[16] According to the article in K. A. Schmid’s “Encyclopädie,” the usual
course was this—the two years’ novitiate was over by the time the youth
was between fifteen and seventeen. He then entered a Jesuit college as
Scholasticus. Here he learnt literature and rhetoric for two years, and
then philosophy (with mathematics) for three more. He then entered on
his Regency, _i.e._, he went over the same ground as a _teacher_, for
from four to six years. Then followed a period of theological study,
ending with a year of trial, called the _Tertiorat_. The candidate was
now admitted to Priest’s Orders, and took the vows either as _professus
quatuor votorum_, professed father of four vows, or as a _coadjutor_. If
he was then sent back to teach, he gave only the higher instruction. The
_fourth_ vow placed him at the disposal of the Pope.
[17] Karl Schmidt (Gesch. d. Päd., iij. 199, 200), says that however much
teachers were wanted, a two years’ course of preparation was considered
indispensable. When the Novitiate was over the candidate became a
“Junior” (_Gallicè_ “Juveniste”). He then continued his studies _in
literis humanioribus_, preparatory to teaching. When in the “Juvenat” or
“Juniorate” he had rubbed up his classics and mathematics, he entered
the “Seminary,” and two or three times a week he expounded to a class
the matter of the previous lecture, and answered questions, &c. For this
information I am indebted to the courtesy of Father Eyre (S. J.), of
Stonyhurst.
[18] So says Andrewes (_American Journal of Education_), but other
authorities put the age of entrance as high as fourteen. The _studia
superiora_ were begun before twenty-four.
[19] “Non gratia nobilium officiat culturæ vulgarium: cum sint natales
omnium pares in Adam et hæreditates quoque pares in Christo.”
[20] Even junior masters were not to be much addicted to their own
language. “Illud cavendum imprimis juniori magistro ne vernaculis nimium
libris indulgeat, præsertim poetis, in quibus maximam temporis ac
fortasse morum jacturam faceret.”—_Jouvency._