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Title: The Educational Writings of Richard Mulcaster
Author: Mulcaster, Richard
Language: English
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THE EDUCATIONAL WRITINGS OF
RICHARD MULCASTER
PUBLISHED BY
JAMES MACLEHOSE AND SONS, GLASGOW,
Publishers to the University.
MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON.
_New York_, _The Macmillan Co._
_London_, _Simpkin, Hamilton and Co._
_Cambridge_, _Macmillan and Bowes_.
_Edinburgh_, _Douglas and Foulis_.
MCMIII.
THE
EDUCATIONAL WRITINGS
OF
RICHARD MULCASTER
(1532-1611)
_ABRIDGED AND ARRANGED, WITH A CRITICAL ESTIMATE_
BY
JAMES OLIPHANT, M.A., F.R.S.E.
AUTHOR OF “VICTORIAN NOVELISTS,” ETC.
GLASGOW
JAMES MACLEHOSE AND SONS
Publishers to the University
1903
GLASGOW: PRINTED AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS BY
ROBERT MACLEHOSE AND CO.
TO MY SISTER
AMY M. SMITH
PREFACE.
Some apology is needed for the presentation of an Elizabethan
writer to English readers in any form but that of the original
text. The justification of the present volume must lie in the
fact that in the three centuries and more that have elapsed since
the educational writings of Richard Mulcaster were given to the
world, they have entirely failed to gain acceptance as literature.
This neglect of one of our most interesting and important
educationists is no doubt chiefly to be regarded as part of the
general indifference which until recently the British public has
consistently shown to all discussion of educational problems,
but when we consider the reputation of Mulcaster’s contemporary,
Roger Ascham, who had far less to say, but knew how to say it with
lucidity and grace, we are constrained to admit that Mulcaster
has lost his opportunity of catching the world’s ear, and that
if his writings are to be known and appreciated as they deserve
by this generation, it must be rather for their substance than
for their literary style. It is true that the serious student may
now be trusted to investigate for himself the thoughts of earlier
authors in spite of difficulties of form and expression, but the
general reader will expect more help than, in the case of Mulcaster
at least, is at present available. The earlier of his two chief
works, the _Positions_, published in 1581, was out of print for 300
years, until the issue in 1888 of an almost facsimile edition by
the late Mr. Quick, to whom the credit of discovering this author
is mainly due, while the second work, the _Elementarie_, has never
been reprinted at all. It is safe to assume that not many readers
will care to possess themselves of the somewhat expensive reprint
of the former work, or to institute a search for one of the rare
copies of the original and only edition of the latter. And if these
books were to be made more accessible, it seemed worth while at
the same time to present them in such a form that they should be
readily intelligible to the ordinary reader. In the case of an
acknowledged literary classic it may be inadmissible to tamper
even with the type and spelling, far more with the phraseology and
arrangement of sentences, but such scruples would be out of place
with the author now in question. An attempt has been made to remove
all gratuitous hindrances to a full understanding of the author’s
meaning, while omitting nothing that is at once characteristic
and significant. It is hoped that in the process of adaptation
as little as possible has been lost of the quaint flavour of the
original, and of the gifts of expression that Mulcaster undoubtedly
possessed, however much these were obscured by the euphuistic
tendency and the somewhat laboured construction that marked the
prose of his time.
J. O.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
THE METHOD OF TREATMENT, 1
THE PURPOSE OF WRITING, 2
REASONS FOR WRITING IN ENGLISH, 4
FIRST PRINCIPLES, 4
THE USE OF AUTHORITY, 7
THE IDEAL AND THE POSSIBLE, 11
WHEN SCHOOL EDUCATION SHOULD BEGIN, 12
RISK OF OVERPRESSURE, 13
MENS SANA IN CORPORE SANO, 14
PHYSICAL EXERCISE NEEDS REGULATION, 15
PHYSICAL AND MENTAL TRAINING SHOULD GO TOGETHER, 15
EXERCISE SPECIALLY NECESSARY FOR STUDENTS, 16
THE BEST KINDS OF EXERCISE, 17
FOOTBALL AS A FORM OF EXERCISE, 17
IS EDUCATION TO BE OFFERED TO BOTH SEXES? 18
ALL CANNOT RECEIVE A LEARNED EDUCATION, 19
CHOICE OF SCHOLARS BOTH FROM RICH AND POOR, 20
THE NUMBER OF SCHOLARS LIMITED BY CIRCUMSTANCES, 21
THE NUMBER OF SCHOLARS KEPT DOWN BY LAW, 22
TALENT NOT PECULIAR EITHER TO RICH OR POOR, 22
CHOICE OF THOSE FIT FOR LEARNING, 23
HOW THE CHOICE OF SCHOLARS, SHOULD BE DETERMINED, 24
GROUNDS FOR PROMOTION, 25
CO-OPERATION OF PARENTS, 27
ADMISSION INTO COLLEGES, 28
PREFERMENT TO DEGREES, 29
NATURAL CAPACITY IN CHILDREN, 30
ENCOURAGEMENT BETTER THAN SEVERITY, 32
MORAL TRAINING FALLS CHIEFLY ON PARENTS, 32
ELEMENTARY INSTRUCTION--READING, 33
THE VERNACULAR FIRST, 34
MATERIAL OF READING, 35
WRITING, 36
ELEMENTARY PERIOD A TIME OF PROBATION, 37
DRAWING, 37
MUSIC, 39
FOUR ELEMENTARY SUBJECTS, 42
STUDY OF LANGUAGES, 44
FOLLOW NATURE, 45
EDUCATION OF GIRLS, 50
AIM OF EDUCATION FOR GIRLS, 53
WHEN THEIR EDUCATION SHOULD BEGIN, 54
ALL SHOULD HAVE ELEMENTARY EDUCATION, 55
HIGHER STUDIES FOR SOME, 57
WHAT HIGHER STUDIES ARE SUITABLE, 58
WHO SHOULD BE THEIR TEACHERS, 60
THE EDUCATION OF YOUNG GENTLEMEN, 60
PRIVATE AND PUBLIC EDUCATION, 61
WHAT SHOULD A GENTLEMAN LEARN? 65
WHAT MAKES A GENTLEMAN? 68
LEARNING USEFUL TO NOBLEMEN, 70
COURSE OF STUDY FOR A GENTLEMAN, 72
FOREIGN TRAVEL, 73
GENTLEMEN SHOULD TAKE UP THE PROFESSIONS, 77
THE TRAINING OF A PRINCE, 78
BOARDING-SCHOOLS, 79
SCHOOL BUILDINGS, 82
BEST HOURS FOR STUDY, 84
ELEMENTARY TEACHER MOST IMPORTANT, 85
THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL TEACHER, 87
THE TRAINING OF TEACHERS, 90
UNIVERSITY REFORM, 91
A COLLEGE FOR LANGUAGES, 92
A COLLEGE FOR MATHEMATICS, 93
A COLLEGE FOR PHILOSOPHY, 95
PROFESSIONAL COLLEGES, 96
GENERAL STUDY FOR PROFESSIONAL MEN, 96
A TRAINING COLLEGE FOR TEACHERS, 97
USE OF THE SEVEN COLLEGES, 98
UNITING OF COLLEGES, 99
UNIVERSITY READERS, 100
EVILS OF OVERPRESSURE, 101
LIMIT OF ELEMENTARY COURSE, 103
DIFFICULTIES IN TEACHING, 104
UNIFORMITY OF METHOD, 105
CHOICE OF SCHOOL BOOKS, 110
SCHOOL REGULATIONS, 113
PUNISHMENTS, 113
CONDITION OF TEACHERS, 117
CONSULTATION ABOUT CHILDREN, 118
SYSTEMATIC DIRECTION, 121
THE STANDARD OF ENGLISH SPELLING, 124
THE PERORATION, 171
CRITICAL ESTIMATE, 209
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.
Richard Mulcaster came of a border family that could trace its
descent back to the eleventh century. On his wife’s tomb he
describes himself as “by ancient parentage and lineal descent, an
esquire born,” and there is evidence that some of his ancestors
held positions of importance, both administrative and academic.
In the fourteenth century we hear of a Richard de Molcastre, who,
as the second son, inherited from his father, Sir William, the
estates of Brakenhill and Solport, and the family retained its
consideration up to our own time. But in the reign of Elizabeth
the ancestral lands were no longer in the possession of the branch
to which our author belonged. He was probably born in the border
district, and the date of his birth must have been about 1532. He
was sent to Eton, then under Nicholas Udall, who as a headmaster
was known alike for his learning and his severity, and who as
the writer of the first regular English comedy, may have given
Mulcaster his taste for the drama. In 1548 he went to Cambridge as
a King’s Scholar, but in 1555 we hear of his election as a Student
of Christchurch, Oxford. In the following year he was “licensed to
proceed in Arts.” He had a reputation for a knowledge of Hebrew as
well as of Latin and Greek, and seems shortly afterwards to have
chosen the profession of a schoolmaster, making his way to London
about 1558 or 1559.
In 1560 the Guild of Merchant Taylors decided to establish the
well-known day Grammar School for boys which still bears their
name, and in the following year Mulcaster was appointed the first
headmaster, having charge of two hundred and fifty scholars, with
the assistance of three undermasters. The school hours were from
7 to 11 a.m. and from 1 to 5 p.m., with one half holiday in the
week, besides the ordinary church festival days, and for this
the headmaster received the salary of £10 (equivalent to £80 or
£100 now), besides a dwelling in the school and a small sum from
entrance fees. He was granted twenty days’ leave of absence in the
year, but was not allowed to hold any other office, though his
appointment was only held from year to year.
The reputation Mulcaster had already gained as a teacher before
his appointment is shown in the fact that the post was offered to
him without his application, and that he accepted it only after
some hesitation, when he was promised an additional £10 of salary,
on the private and personal guarantee of one of the Governors.
He held the position for twenty-five years, and his successful
conduct of the school is fully attested by the verdict of eminent
scholars who acted as examiners, by the expressions of satisfaction
in the minutes of the Council, and by the testimony of the pupils
themselves, many of whom attained distinction in after-life.
Of Mulcaster’s scholars at Merchant Taylors’ School the most famous
was Edmund Spenser, but in the absence of any reference to his
teacher by the poet, we have to be content with the direct evidence
of Lancelot Andrews, Bishop of Winchester, and Sir James Whitelock,
Justice of the King’s Bench. Of the former it is recorded that he
“ever loved and honoured” his former headmaster, befriending him
and his son after him, and keeping his portrait over the door of
his study. The latter tells us that Mulcaster besides instructing
him well in Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, was careful to increase his
skill in music, and chose him to act with other scholars in the
plays he presented at Court, by which means the boys were taught
good manners and self-confidence. The account of him in Fuller’s
_Worthies_ may perhaps represent the impressions of less gifted
scholars--“Atropos might be persuaded to pity, as soon as he to
pardon, where he found just fault. The prayers of cockering mothers
prevailed with him as much as the requests of indulgent fathers,
rather increasing than mitigating his severity on their offending
child.... Others have taught as much learning with fewer lashes,
yet his sharpness was the better endured, because impartial, and
many excellent scholars were bred under him.”
But while Mulcaster was building up securely the reputation of the
school, his own position was not always comfortable, and in the
end the friction between himself and the governing body became so
great that he felt constrained to resign the headmastership. This
was no doubt partly due to his own somewhat hasty and masterful
temper, for on one occasion at least it is recorded in the
minutes of the Council that he had made open apology for things
said and done in anger, but there were more lasting causes of
dispute. After the first eight years the promised supplement to
his official income was no longer forthcoming, apparently owing
to the declining circumstances of the member of the Council who
had contributed it, and Mulcaster having on the strength of this
extra sum increased the salary of his first assistant, conceived
that he was entitled to its continuance from the Company. There
were besides disputes between the Council and the authorities of
St. John’s College, Oxford, where its founder, a member of the
Guild, had reserved certain free places for orphans coming from
the school, and in these Mulcaster was involved. While the Council
seems to have acted throughout within its rights, and in the end
showed a desire to deal even generously with its headmaster, it is
easy to understand the difficulties of the situation, especially
to a man like Mulcaster, whose natural impatience of control would
not be diminished by his evident sense that in birth as well as
in learning he was above his official superiors. So necessary did
he feel it to regain his freedom that in 1586 he tendered his
resignation, without apparently having any definite prospect of
other work.
During the next ten years scarcely anything is known of Mulcaster’s
life, except that he was in straitened circumstances. By 1588
his claim on the Merchant Taylors’ Guild had been adjusted by a
compromise, and friendly relations must have been restored, for we
find him acting as examiner to the School in that year. For part
of this time at least he was out of London, for he seems to have
been for a year vicar of Cranbrook in Kent, and he was afterwards
granted by the Queen the prebend of Yatesbury, in the diocese of
Salisbury.
In 1596 came a return of prosperity in a settled position. The
headmaster of St. Paul’s School, which had been founded at the
beginning of the century by John Colet, and bequeathed by him to
the management of the Silk Mercers’ Guild, had resigned his post,
as a result of similar differences with the governing body to those
which occurred in the Merchant Taylors’ School, and Mulcaster,
whatever misgivings he may have had, had learned enough from his
recent experience not to decline the vacant office when it was
offered to him. He was already in his sixty-fourth year when he
received the appointment, and he continued to hold it till he was
seventy-six. The conditions were much the same as those under which
he had formerly worked, the statutes of St. Paul’s School having
indeed served as a model to the later foundation, but the number
of scholars was limited to 153, and the salary of the headmaster
was £36 (equal to about £300 now), in addition to a residence in
the school. In 1602 the salaries of all the teachers were doubled,
in recompense for certain restrictions imposed by a new set of
regulations, and when Mulcaster resigned his position in 1608,
presumably on account of failing strength, he received a yearly
pension of £66 3s. 4d. until his death three years later. There is
little to record of his labours during his twelve years’ service at
St. Paul’s School, the only outstanding event being in connection
with the accession of James I. in 1603. It was the privilege of his
scholars to welcome the Sovereign to the capital, and we read that
on this occasion a Latin speech, prepared by the headmaster, was
delivered by one of the scholars at the door of the School.
It is painful to learn that the closing years of Mulcaster’s
life were clouded by distressing poverty. Nor is this easy to
understand, for besides his pension, he was not without resources.
He had some time before been granted by Queen Elizabeth the living
of Stanford Rivers in Essex, but had been precluded from entering
on it while he remained at St. Paul’s School. On his retirement
from the headmastership he took up the duties of his country
charge, notwithstanding his advanced age, though without striking
success, according to Fuller’s account: “I have heard from those
who have heard him preach that his sermons were not excellent,
which to me seems no wonder, partly because there is a different
discipline in teaching children and men, partly because such who
make divinity not the choice of their youth but the refuge of their
age seldom attain to eminency therein.” In spite of these two
sources of income we find Mulcaster in 1609 making a pitiful but
unsuccessful appeal to his old patrons, the Merchant Taylors, and
when he died two years later he left his son burdened with debts,
from which he was only relieved by the aid of some of his father’s
former scholars, and of the two Guilds under which he had served.
His wife had died two years before him, after fifty years of wedded
life, and her virtues are recorded in a commemorative tablet.
Mulcaster’s educational writings were produced towards the close
of the period spent at Merchant Taylors’ School, the _Positions_
appearing in 1581, and the _First Part of the Elementarie_ in 1582.
The completion of the latter, and the further works promised on
higher education, were never accomplished. He also wrote numerous
Latin verses, including an address to Queen Elizabeth at the
Kenilworth pageant of 1575, and a catechism, also in Latin, for
the use of his pupils at St. Paul’s School, while he is mentioned
as the author of a work entitled _Cato Christianus_, which has not
come down to us.
All the sources of information regarding Mulcaster’s life and
writings have been collected and compared with exhaustive industry
by Dr. Theodor Klähr in a pamphlet entitled _Leben und Werke
Richard Mulcaster’s_ (Dresden, 1893).
THE EDUCATIONAL WRITINGS OF RICHARD MULCASTER
The Method of Treatment.
Whosoever shall consider carefully the manner of bringing up
children which is in general favour within this realm, cannot but
agree with me in wishing that it were improved. I do not think
it well, however, in this place to lay bare its special defects,
because I am in hope of seeing them healed without so strong a
measure. If I should seek to expose all the inconveniences which
are experienced between parents and schoolmasters, and between
teachers and learners; if I should refer to all the difficulties
through which the education and upbringing of children is seriously
impaired, I might revive causes of annoyance, and thereby make the
evils worse. And even though I were to remedy them, the patient
might bear in mind how churlishly he was cured, and though he
should pay well for the healing, he might be ill-satisfied with the
treatment. Wherefore in mending things that are amiss, I take that
to be the most advisable way which saveth the man without making
the means unpleasant. If without entering into controversies I set
down what seems to me on reasonable grounds to be the right course
as being not only the best, but most within compass, the wrong
course will forthwith show itself by comparison, and will thus
receive a check without any need for fault-finding.
The Purpose of Writing.
I have taught in public now without interruption for two-and-twenty
years, and have always had a very great charge committed to my
hands, my fulfilment of which I leave to an impartial judgment.
During this time, both through what I have seen in teaching so
long, and what I have tried in training up so many, I well perceive
that, with the disadvantages which myself and other teachers have
been subject to, none of us have been able to do as much as we
might. I believe I have not only learned what these disadvantages
are, but have discerned how they may be removed, so that I and
all others may be able to do much more good than heretofore. And
as I write for the common good I appeal to the reader’s courtesy
to give me credit for good intentions, though my hopes should not
be realised. For I am only doing what is open to all, namely, to
give public utterance to my personal convictions, and to claim
indulgence for what is intended for the general good. As I am
myself ready to give favourable consideration to others who do the
same, I expect any who make use of my work to their own profit
to give me credit for it, and those who get no benefit from it
at least to sympathise with me in meeting so little success for
my good intentions. I may be told--You are alone in raising this
matter; you do but trouble yourself; you cannot turn aside the
course, which is old and well-established, and therefore very
strong for you to strive against. This thing which you recommend
is not every man’s wares; it will not be compassed. Do you let it
alone; if you must needs write, turn your pen to other matters
which the State will like better, which this age will readily
approve of, which you may urge with credit if they be new and
suitable, or confirm with praise if they be old and need repeating.
If such objections were not invariably raised to all attempts to
turn either from bad to good, or from good to better, I would
answer them carefully, but now I need not, for in order to gain
any advantage he who wishes to have it must be prepared to wrestle
for it, both in speech and in writing, against the corruption
of his age, against the loneliness of attempt, against party
prejudice, against the difficulties of performance. Nor must he
be discouraged by any ordinary thwarting, which is a thing well
known to experienced students, and of least account where it is
best known, however fearful a thing it may seem to timid fancies to
stem corruption and strive against the stream. For the stream will
turn when a stronger tide returns, and even if there be no tide,
yet an untiring effort will make way against it till it prevails.
And surely it were more honourable for some one, or some few, to
hazard their own credit and estimation for the time in favour of
a thing which they know to be deserving of support, though it may
not be held of much account, than through too timorous a concession
to public opinion, which, in spite of its influence, is not always
the soundest, to leave excellent causes without defence if they be
opposed. For may it not fall out that such a thing as this will be
called for hereafter, though at present it may be out of favour,
because something else is in fashion? I had rather, therefore,
that it were ready then to be of use when it is wished, than that
posterity should be defrauded of a thing so passing good, for fear
of its being disliked at the first setting forth.
Reasons for Writing in English.
I write in my natural English tongue, because though I appeal
to the learned, who understand Latin, I wish to reach also the
unlearned, who understand only English, and whose interests are to
be the more considered that they have fewer chances of information.
The parents and friends with whom I have to deal are for the most
part no Latinists, and even if they were, yet we understand that
tongue best to which we are first born, and our first impression
is always in English before we render it into Latin. And in
recommending a new method of attaining an admitted benefit,
should we not make use of all the helps we can to make ourselves
understood? He that understands no Latin can understand English,
and he that understands Latin very well can understand English far
better, if he will confess the truth, however proud he may be of
his Latinity. When my subject requires Latin I will not then spare
it, as far as my knowledge allows, but till it do, I will serve my
country in the way that I think will be most intelligible to her.
First Principles.
My purpose is to help the whole business of teaching, even from
the very first foundation, that is to say, not only what is given
in the Grammar School, and what follows afterwards, but also the
elementary training which is given to infants from their first
entrance, until they are thought fit to pass on to the Grammar
School. In my manner of proceeding I propose to follow the
precedent of those learned authors who have treated with most
credit of this and similar subjects, in first laying down certain
principles to which all readers will agree. By this means it
is possible to pass on to the end without challenge, or if any
difficulty should arise, it can always be resolved by a reference
to these principles. In mathematics, which offers the best model
of method to all the other sciences, before any problem or theorem
is presented, there are set down certain definitions, postulates,
axioms, to which general assent is asked at the outset, and on
which the whole structure is built up. I am the more inclined to
adopt this method, because I am to deal with a subject that must at
the first be very carefully handled, till proof gives my treatment
credit, whatever countenance hope may seem to lend it in the
meanwhile.
I mean specially to deal with two stages in learning, first the
Elementary, which extends from the time that the child is set to
do anything, till he is removed to the higher school, and then
the Grammar School course, where the child doth continue in the
study of the learned tongues till at the time of due ripeness he
is removed to some university. The importance of the Elementary
part lieth in this, that a thorough grounding here helps the
whole course of after study, whereas insufficient preparation in
the early stages makes a very weak sequel. For just as a proper
amount of time spent here, without too much haste to push onwards,
brings on the rest of the school stages at their due season,
and in the end sendeth abroad sufficient men for the service of
their country, so too headlong a desire to hurry on swiftly, in
perpetual infirmity of matter, causeth too much childishness in
later years, when judgment and skill and ripeness are more in
keeping with grey hairs. The Grammar School course, while it is a
suitable subject for me to deal with, as I am myself a teacher, is
also very profitable for the country to hear of, as in the present
great variety of teaching, some uniform method seems to be called
for. To have the youth of the country well directed in the tongues,
which are the paths to wisdom, the treasuries of learning, the
storehouses of humanity, the vehicles of divinity, the sources
of knowledge and wisdom--can this be a small matter, if it be
well performed? If fitting occasion by the way should cause me to
attempt anything further than these two divisions of the subject,
though I should seem to be going beyond my school experience, I
trust I shall not be thought to travel beyond my capacity. In
seeking for the approval of men I may indeed find some who are
satisfied with things as they are, who think their penny good
silver, and decline my offer, being unwilling to receive teaching
from such humble hands as mine. There may be others who grant that
there is something amiss, but think my remedy not well fitted to
amend it, and look disdainfully on my credentials. I admit my lack
of authority, but till some one better takes the matter up, why
should I not do what I can? If the wares I bring prove marketable,
why should I not offer them for sale? As I am likely to encounter
such objections, I propose at the outset to meet all I can on
grounds of reason, with full courtesy to those who make them.
Inasmuch as I must apply my principles to some one ground, I have
chosen the Elementary, rather than the Grammar School course,
because it is the very lowest, and the first to be dealt with,
and because the considerations that apply to it may easily be
transferred afterwards to the Grammar School or any other studies.
The points I propose to deal with are such as the following: At
what age a child should be sent to school, and what he should learn
there; whether all children should be sent to school; whether
physical exercise is a necessary part of upbringing; whether young
maidens ought to be set to learning; how young gentlemen should
be brought up; how uniformity can be introduced into teaching. I
shall also speak of courtesy and correction, of public and private
education, of the choice of promising scholars, of places and times
for learning, of teachers and school regulations, and of the need
for restricting the numbers of the learned class. In my views on
these and kindred matters I shall seek to win the approval of my
countrymen, before I proceed to deal with particular precepts and
the details of the upbringing of children. In my discussion of
all these matters, while in method I shall follow the example of
the best writers, I will, in the substance of my argument, make
appeal only to nature and reason, to custom and experience, where
there is a clear prospect of advantage to my country, avoiding any
appearance or suspicion of fanciful and impracticable notions.
I may hope that the desire to see things improved will not be
accounted fanciful, unless by those who think themselves in health
when they are sick unto death, and while feeling no pain because
of extreme weakness, hold their friends foolish in wishing them to
alter their mode of life.
The Use of Authority.
Some well-meaning people, when they wish to persuade their
fellow-countrymen either by pen or by speech, to adopt a certain
course, if they can claim the authority of any good writers
favouring their opinions, straightway assume that their own
arguments are sufficiently supported to ensure their proposal being
carried out. This assurance, however, is checked sometimes by
reflection, sometimes by experience. Wise reflection may foresee
that the special circumstances of the country will not admit
of the proposed change, or after some trial the unsuitability
may be shown by experience. So that in cases where authorities
persuade, and circumstances control, those who would use earlier
writers to maintain their credit must always keep in view the
application to particular conditions. I see many people of good
intelligence, considerable reading, and facility of expression,
both abroad and at home, fall into great error by neglecting
special circumstances, and overstraining the force of authority.
In dealing with education, must I entreat my country to be content
with this because such a one commends it, or force her to that
because such a State approves of it? The show of right deceives us,
and the likeness of unlike things doth lead us where it listeth.
For the better understanding with what wariness authority is to
be used, let it be considered that there are two sorts of authors
that we deal with in our studies. Of the one kind are writers
on the mathematical sciences, who proceed by the necessity of a
demonstrable subject, and enforce the conclusions by inevitable
argument. Of the other kind are writers on the moral and political
sciences, who, dealing with human affairs, must have regard to the
circumstances of every particular case. With the former the truth
of the subject-matter maintains itself, without the need for any
personal authority, and is beyond debate; it is with the latter
that controversy arises, the writer’s credit often authorising the
thing, and in this case great injustice may be done by quoting
without discrimination as to difference of circumstance. It is no
proof that because Plato praiseth something, because Aristotle
approveth it, because Cicero commends it, because Quintilian or
anyone else is acquainted with it, therefore it is for us to use.
What if our country honour it in them, and yet for all that may
not use it herself, because the circumstances forbid? Nay, what
if the writers’ authority be cited without considering in what
circumstances the opinion was originally expressed? Is not a great
wrong done by him who wresteth the meaning of the author he quotes?
He that will deal with writers so as to turn their conclusions to
the use of his country must be very well advised, and diligently
mark that their meaning and his application are consistent, and
must consider how much of their opinion his country will admit.
Whether I shall myself be able to carry out what I demand from
others, I dare not warrant, but I will do my best to use my author
well, and to take circumstances into account, never, if I can help
it, to offer anything that has not all the foundations that I
promised before, namely, _nature_ to lead it, _reason_ to back it,
_custom_ to commend it, _experience_ to approve it, and _profit_ to
prefer it.
I think a student ought rather to invest himself in the habit of
his writer than to stand much upon his title and authority in proof
or disproof, as it is well understood that all our studies are
indebted to the original devisers and the most eloquent writers.
Therefore, to avoid undue length, I will neither give authorities
nor examples, as it is not a question of a man’s name, but of
the real value of the argument. I shall not busy myself with
citing authors, either to show what I have read or how far I am
in agreement with others. It is not needful to heap up witnesses
where nothing is doubtful; the natural use of testimony is to
prove where there is doubt, not to cloy where all is clear. In
such cases, for want of sound judgment, a catalogue of names and
a multitude of sentences, which only say what no one denies, are
forced on to the stage to seem to arm the quoter, who is fighting
without a foe, and flying when there is no cause for fear.
In points of learning which are beyond controversy, I appeal to the
judgment of those who have gone over the same ground, and can test
the truth of what I say without being told the name of the author,
whom they will admit to have been well cited when they find me
saying as he saith, whether it be through recollection of what I
have read or from coincidence of judgment where I have not read. I
do honour good writers, but without superstition, being in no way
addicted to titles. But seeing that Reason doth honour them, they
must be content to remain outside themselves, and use every means
to bring her forward, as their lady and mistress, whose authority
and credit procure them admission when they come from her. It is
not so because a writer said so, but because the truth is so, and
he said the truth. Indeed, the truth is often weakened in the
hearer’s opinion, though not in itself, by naming the writer. If
truth did depend upon the person, she would often be brought into
a miserable plight, being constrained to serve fancy and alter
at will, whereas she should bend to no one, however opinionative
people may persuade themselves. This is known to the learned and
wise, whose courtesy I crave. As for the unlearned, I must entreat
them, for their sakes if not for mine, not to debate with me on
points where they cannot judge. In matters that are intelligible to
both, I must pray them to weigh my words well, and ever to give me
credit for good intentions.
The Ideal and the Possible.
Those ancient writers, who have depicted ideal commonwealths, and
have imagined the upbringing of such paragons as should be fitted
for a place in them, before asking when their youth should begin
to learn, have commonly laid down the conditions of their training
from a very early stage. They begin by considering how to deal with
the infant while he is still under his nurse, discussing whether he
should be nursed by a stranger or by his mother, what playfellows
should be chosen for him while he is still in the nursery, and
what exquisite public or private training can be devised for him
afterwards. These and other considerations they fall into, which
do well beseem the bringing up of such an one as may indeed be
wished, though scarcely hoped for, but can by no means be applied
to our youth and our education, wherein we wish for no more than we
can hope to have. Nay, these writers go further, as mere wishers
may, and appoint the parents of this so perfect a child, to be so
wise and learned that they may indeed fit into an ideal scheme,
but too far surpass the model that I can have in view. Wherefore
leaving on one side these ideal measures and people, I mean to
proceed from such principles as our parents do actually build on,
and as our children do rise by to that mediocrity which furnisheth
out this world, and not to that excellence which is fashioned for
another. And yet there is a value in these fine pictures, which by
pointing out the ideal let us behold wherein the best consisteth,
what colours it is known by, what state it keepeth, and by what
means we may best approach it. It may perhaps be said that despair
of obtaining the very best is apt to discourage all hope, for by
missing any one of these rare conditions--and our frailty will fail
either in all or in most--we mar the whole mould. Howbeit we are
much bound to the excellent wits of those divine writers who, by
their singular knowledge approaching near to the truest and best,
could most truly and best discern what constitution they were of,
and being anxious to serve their race thought it their part to
communicate what they had seen, if only for this, that while we
might despair of hitting the highest, yet by seeing where it lodged
we might with great praise draw near unto it.
But to return from this question of ideals to our ordinary
education, I persuaded myself that all my countrymen wish
themselves as wise and learned as these imaginary parents are
surmised to be, though they may be content with so much, or rather
with so little, of wisdom and learning as God doth allot them, and
that they will have their children nursed as well as they can,
wherever or by whomsoever it may be, so that the beings whom they
love so well as bequeathed to them by nature, may be well brought
up by nurture; and that till the infant can govern himself, they
will seek to save it from all such perils as may seem to harm it
in any kind of way, either from the people or the circumstances
that surround it, and that this will be done with such forethought
as ordinary circumspection can suggest to considerate and careful
parents; and finally, that for his proper schooling, all who can
will provide it, even if it be at some cost.
When School Education should begin.
One of the first questions is at what age children should be
sent to school, for they should neither be delayed too long,
so that time is lost, nor hastened on too soon, at the risk of
their health. The rule therefore must be given according to the
strength of their bodies and the quickness of their wits jointly.
If the parents be not wanting in means, and there is a convenient
place near, wherein to have the child taught, and a teacher with
sufficient knowledge, and with discretion to train him up well
by correction and teaching him good manners, and fit companions,
such as so good a master may be able to choose; and if the child
also himself have a good understanding and a body able to bear the
strain of learning, methinks it were then best that he began to be
doing something as soon as he can use his intelligence, without
overtaxing his powers either of mind or body, as the wise handling
of his teacher will direct. What the age should be I cannot say,
for ripeness in children does not always come at the same time, any
more than all corn is ripe for one reaping, though it is pretty
nearly at the same time. Some are quick, some are slow; some are
willing when their parents are, and others only when they are
inclined themselves, according as a wise upbringing has disposed
them to do well, or foolish coddling has made them prefer their
play.
Risk of Overpressure.
Anyone who deserves to be a parent should be prepared to judge
for himself as to his young son’s ripeness for school life, and
surely no one is so destitute of friends that he has not some one
to consult if necessary. Those who fix upon a definite age for
beginning have an eye to that knowledge which they think may be
easily gained in these early years, and which it would be a pity
to lose. I agree with them that it would be a pity to lose anything
needlessly that could be gained without much effort and without
injuring the child. But it would be a greater pity for so small a
gain to risk a more important one, to win an hour in the morning,
and lose the whole day after. If the child has a weak body, however
bright his understanding may be, let him grow on the longer till
his strength equals his intelligence. For experience has taught
me that a young child with a quick mind pushed on for people to
wonder at the sharpness of its edge has thus most commonly been
hastened to its grave, through weakness of body, to the grief of
the child’s friends and the reproach of their judgment; and even if
such a child lives, he will never go deep, but will always float on
the surface without much ballast, though perhaps continuing for a
time to excite wonder. Sooner or later, however, his intelligence
will fail, the wonder will cease, while his body will prove feeble
and perish. Wherefore I could wish the brighter child to be less
upon the spur, and either the longer kept from learning altogether,
lest he suffer as the edge of an oversharp knife is turned, or at
least be given very little, for fear of his eagerness leading to a
surfeit.
Mens Sana in Corpore Sano.
As in setting a child to school we consider the strength of his
body no less than the quickness of his mind, it would seem that our
training ought to be two-fold, both body and mind being kept at
their best, so that each may be able to support the other in what
they have to do together. A great deal has been written about the
training of the mind, but for the bettering of the body is there
no means to maintain it in health, and chiefly in the student,
whose occupation treads it down? Yea, surely, a very natural and
healthful means in exercise, whereby the body is made fit for
all its best functions. And therefore parents and teachers ought
to take care from the very beginning that in regard to diet the
child’s body is not stuffed so that the intelligence is dulled, and
that its garments neither burden the body with their weight nor
weaken it with too much warmth. The exercise of the body should
always accompany and assist the exercise of the mind, to make a
dry, strong, hard, and therefore a long-lasting, body, and by this
means to have an active, sharp, wise, and well-learned soul.
Physical Exercise needs Regulation.
It is not enough to say that children are always stirring of their
own accord, and therefore need no special attention in regard to
bodily exercise. If it were not that we make them keep absolutely
still when they are learning in school, and thus restrain their
natural stirring, then we might leave it to their own inclinations
to serve their turn without more ado. But a more than ordinary
stillness requires more than ordinary exercise, and the one must
be regulated as much as the other. And as sitting quiet helps
ill-humours to breed and burden the body, relief must be sought in
exercise under the direction of parents and teachers.
Physical and Mental Training should go together.
The soul and the body, being co-partners in good and ill, in sweet
and sour, in mirth and mourning, and having generally a common
sympathy and mutual feeling, how can they be, or rather why should
they be, severed in education? I assign both the framing of the
mind and the training of the body to one man’s charge. For how can
that man judge well of the soul, whose work has to do with the body
alone? And how shall he perceive what is best for the body, who
having the soul only committed to his care, hands over the body to
some other man’s treatment? Where there is too much distraction and
separation of functions, each specialist tends to make the most
of his own subject, to the sacrifice of others that may be more
important. Wherefore in order to have the care which is due to each
part equally distributed, I would appoint, I say, only one teacher
to deal with both. For I see no great difficulty either in regard
to the necessary knowledge, or to the amount of work. Moreover, as
the disposition of the soul will resemble that of the body, if the
soul be influenced for good, it will affect the body also.
Exercise Specially Necessary for Students.
For though the soul as the fountain of life, and the stimulus
of the body, may and will bear it out for a while, by force of
courage, yet weakness cannot always be dissembled, but will in the
end betray itself, perhaps just when it is the greatest pity. Many
people of high spirit, notable for their learning and skill in the
highest professions, have failed, owing to want of attention to
bodily health, just when their country had most hope of benefiting
by their services. It is needful, therefore, to help the body
by some methodical training, especially for those who use their
brains, such as students, who are apt to consider too little how
they may continue to do that for long which they do well. They
should eat very moderately, and their exercise should also be
moderate, and not vary too much, and their clothing should be
thin, even from the first swaddling, that the flesh may become hard
and firm.
The Best Kinds of Exercise.
[Mulcaster gives a list of the forms of exercise which he thinks
most suitable, both for indoors, and for out of doors. In the
former class are--speaking and reading aloud, singing, laughing,
weeping, holding the breath, dancing, wrestling, fencing, and
whipping the top; in the latter are--walking, running, leaping,
swimming, riding, hunting, shooting, and playing at ball. These
of course are not all considered suitable for children, but a
selection could be made from them to be practised in school under
the regulation of the master. He then enters upon a detailed
and curious examination of the value of each of these forms of
exercise, considered mainly in regard to their physiological
effects. In all this it has been pointed out by Schmidt
(_Geschichte der Erziehung_, Vol. III., Pt. I, pp. 374-6) that
Mulcaster followed closely, though without special acknowledgment,
the _De Arte Gymnastica_ of Girolamo Mercuriale, a contemporary
Italian physician. As the science is mostly of the traditional
and somewhat fantastic character then prevalent, the discussion
is not particularly profitable from a modern standpoint. It will
be interesting, however, as an illustration of his treatment, to
see how he deals with a game that seems to have had much the same
features in his day as in ours.]
Football as a Form of Exercise.
Football could not possibly have held its present prominence, nor
have been so much in vogue as it is everywhere, if it had not been
very beneficial to health and strength. To me the abuse of it is
a sufficient argument that it has a right use, though as it is
now commonly practised, with thronging of a rude multitude, with
bursting of shins and breaking of legs, it is neither civilised,
nor worthy the name of any healthy training. And here one can
easily see the use of the training master, for if there is some
one standing by, who can judge of the play, and is put in control
over the players, all these objections can be easily removed.
By such regulation, the players being put into smaller numbers,
sorted into sides and given their special positions, so that
they do not meet with their bodies so boisterously to try their
strength, nor shoulder and shove one another so barbarously,
football may strengthen the muscles of the whole body. By provoking
superfluities downwards it relieves the head and the upper parts,
it is good for the bowels, and it drives down the stone and gravel
from the bladder and the kidneys. The motion also helps weak hams
and slender shanks by making the flesh firmer, yet rash running
and too much violence often break some internal conduit and cause
ruptures.
Is Education to be offered to both Sexes?
We are next to consider who are those to whom education should be
given, which I take to be children of both sorts, male and female.
But young maidens must give me leave to speak of boys first,
because naturally the male is more worthy and more important in
the body politic; therefore that side may claim learning as first
framed for their use and most properly belonging to them, though
out of courtesy and kindness they may be content to lend some
advantages of their education in the time of youth to the female
sex on whom they afterwards bestow themselves, and the fruit of
their whole training.
All cannot receive a Learned Education.
As for boys, it has been set beyond doubt long ago, that they
should be sent to school, to learn how to be religious and loving,
how to govern and obey, how to forecast and prevent, how to defend
and assail, and in short, how to perform excellently by labour the
duties for which nature has fitted them only imperfectly. But in
the matter of this so desirable a training, two important questions
arise; first, whether all children should be put to school without
any restraint upon the number, and secondly, if any restriction is
needful, how it is to be imposed. In the body politic a certain
proportion of parts must be preserved just as in the natural body,
or disturbances will arise, and I consider that it is a burden to
a commonwealth on the one hand to have too many learned, just as
it is a loss on the other hand to have too few, and that it is
important to have knowledge and intelligence well adapted to the
station in life, as, if these are misplaced it may lead to disquiet
and sedition.
There is always danger to a State in excess of numbers beyond the
opportunities of useful employment, and this is specially true in
the case of scholars. For they profess learning, that is to say,
the _soul_ of the State, and it is too perilous to have the soul of
the State troubled with _their_ souls, that is, necessary learning
with unnecessary learners. Scholars, by reason of their conceit
which learning inflames, cannot rest satisfied with little, and
by their kind of life they prove too disdainful of labour, unless
necessity makes them trot. If that wit fall to preach which were
fitter for the plough, and he to climb a pulpit who was made to
scale a wall, is not a good carter ill lost, and a good soldier ill
placed?
All children cannot get a full training at school, even though
their private circumstances admit of it, yet as regards writing
and reading, if that were all, what if everyone had them, for the
sake of religion and their necessary affairs? In the long period
of their whole youth, if they minded no more, these two would be
easily learned in their leisure times by special opportunities, if
no ordinary means were available and no school nigh. Every parish
has a minister, who can give help in regard to writing and reading,
if there is no one else.
Choice of Scholars both from Rich and Poor.
Some doubt may rise between the rich and poor, whether all rich and
none poor, or some in both, may and should be sent to learning. If
some rich are sent, provided for out of private resources, some
poor will be commended by promising parts to public provision for
the general advantage, and if neither private nor public provision
is mismanaged, the matter will decide itself by the capacity of
the learners and their disposition to prove virtuous. The safe
condition is that the rich should not have too much, nor the poor
too little. In the former case, the overplus breeds a loose and
dissolute brain; in the latter, the insufficiency causes a base and
servile temper. For he who is never in need, owing to the supplies
of his friends, never exercises his wits to be a friend to himself,
but commonly proves reckless till the black ox treads upon his
toes, and necessity makes him try what mettle he is made of. And
he who is always in need, for want of friends, is apt to find his
heaven in whatever rids him of his difficulties, and to worship
that saint who serves his turn best. Now if wealthy parents out of
their private fortune, and public patrons out of their surplus
wealth would try to avoid these two extremes, then neither would
over-abundance make the one too wanton, nor want make the other
too servile. Neither would be tempted to hasten on too fast, the
one lest he should lose some time, and the other lest he should
miss some chance of a livelihood. The middle sort of parents, who
neither welter in too much wealth, nor wrestle with too much want,
seem most promising of all, if their children’s capacity is in
keeping with their parents’ circumstances and position, which must
be the level for the fattest to fall down to, and the leanest to
leap up to, to bring forth the student who will serve his country
best.
The Number of Scholars limited by Circumstances.
All cannot pass on to learning that throng thitherward, because
of the inconveniences that may ensue, by want of preferment for
such a multitude, and by depriving other trades of their necessary
workers. Everyone desires to have his child learned, yet for all
that every parent must bear in mind that he is more bound to his
country than to his child. If the parent will not yield to reason
some kind of restraint must be used. Fortunately the question is
often determined by necessity. You would have your child learned,
but your purse will not stretch; you must be patient, and devise
some other course within your means. You are not able to spare him
from your elbow for your own needs, whereas learning must have
leisure, and the scholar’s book be his only business free from
outside interference. You have no school near you, and you cannot
pay for teaching further off; then let your own trade content you,
and keep your child at home. Or your child is of weak constitution;
then let schooling alone, make play his physician, and health his
object. Whichever way necessity drives you, perforce that way must
ye trot. If the restrained child cannot get the skill to write
and read, I lament that lack, for these two points concern every
man nearly, and are useful in every kind of business. I dare not
venture to allow so many the Latin tongue, nor any other language,
unless it be in cases where those tongues are found necessary in
their trades. For otherwise the fear is lest, having such benefits
of school, they will not be content with their own station in
life, but because they have some little smack of book learning
they will think even the highest positions low enough for them,
not considering that in well-governed States Latin is allowed both
to country clowns and town artificers; yet these remain in their
own calling, without pride or ambition, on account of that small
knowledge by which they are better able to furnish out their own
trades.
The Number of Scholars kept down by Law.
It is no objection to allege against such a lawful restraint, that
if such a measure had been in force we might have lost men of high
intelligence and great learning who have been of much service to
the State. Some degree of foresight and orderly restraint are more
likely to secure that necessary functions will be well served than
if all is left to chance and individual will. Nor is it reasonable
to object that it were a pity, by the severity of an unkind law, to
hinder that excellence which God commonly gives to the poorer sort.
Talent not peculiar either to Rich or Poor.
As for pitying the poor, ye need not wish a beggar to become a
prince, though ye allow him a penny and pity his necessities. If
he is poor provide for him, that he may live by trade, but let him
not idle. Has he talent? Well, are artificers fools? And do not
all trades require ability? But is he very likely to distinguish
himself in learning? I do not reject him; he has his chance of
being provided a public help in common patronage. But he does not
well to oppose his own particular will against the public good; let
his country think enough of him, but let him beware of thinking too
much of himself. Because God has often shown himself bountiful in
conferring talent on the poorer sort, that does not prove that he
has not bestowed as great gifts on some of the upper class, though
they may have failed to use them. The commonwealth, it is urged,
must be prepared to give scope for ability, in whatever class it
may be found.
Choice of those fit for Learning.
The choice of learners is a matter requiring careful thought at all
times and in all places, but especially in our own day and country.
For it is more important to whom you commit learning when you have
found what to learn than to find what to learn before you commit
it, because the best instrument should always be handled by the
fittest person, and not by every one that has a fancy to handle
it. When the choice follows private liking rather than public
advantage, more mischief is caused than is easily discovered,
though the smart is generally felt. There is indeed little use in
discussing the question of fitness, if no choice is to be made
when the question is decided. And as the bestowal of learning must
have its beginning in the young child, ought not good choice to go
before if the due effect is to follow?
How the Choice of Scholars should be Determined.
I will now consider what kinds of talent and disposition are,
even from infancy, to be thought most fitting to serve the State
in the matter of learning. Often those who give least promise at
first turn out most suitable in the end; wherefore the absolute
rejection of any, before maturity is reached, not only does an
injury to those who are rejected, but would be an evidence of
rashness in those who reject. For the variety is very great, though
where certainty is impossible preference must be given to the
most likely. In the qualities that give promise of good service
when learning has been gained, there are commonly reckoned an
honourable disposition, zeal for moral virtue, and the desire to
benefit society without thought of personal profit. There must
also be taken into account the shrewdness of intelligence which
will not be easily deceived nor diverted from a right opinion,
either by the influence of feeling in themselves or the strength
of persuasion in others. And generally whatever virtue gives
proof of a good man and a good citizen must be held of value, so
that the learner should show capability and discretion in matters
of learning, and towardness and constancy in matters of living.
All this refers to free men who can secure independently the
opportunities of learning, yet provision is to be made for those
of good natural intelligence who need some help. There are three
kinds of government--Monarchy, Oligarchy, and Democracy, each
of which demands a different type of citizen and scholar. That
child is likely in later years to prove the fittest subject for
learning in a _Monarchy_ who at a tender age shows himself obedient
to the rules of the School, and, if he should offend, takes his
punishment gently, without complaining or taking affront. In
behaviour towards his companions he is gentle and courteous,
without wrangling or complaining. He will lend a helping hand, and
use every persuasion rather than have either his teacher disquieted
or his school-fellows punished. And, therefore, either he receives
similar courtesy from his school-fellows, or whoever shows him any
discourtesy must be prepared for challenge and combat with all
the rest. If he has any natural capacity in which he excels his
companions, it will be so well regulated and show itself with such
modesty that it shall appear in no way upsetting or over-ambitious.
At home he will be so deferential to his parents, so courteous
among servants, so dutiful toward all with whom he has to deal,
that there will be contention who can praise him most behind
his back, and who can cherish him most before his face. These
qualities will not be easily discerned till the child is either
in the Grammar School by regular but not premature advancement,
or at least upon his passage from the completed course of the
Elementary School, because his age by that time, and his progress
under regulation, will make it possible in some degree to perceive
his inclination. Before that time we pardon many things, and use
encouragement and motives of ambition to inflame the little one
onward, which are discontinued afterwards. When of their own
accord, without any motive of fear or other incitement, they begin
to make some show of their learning in some special direction, then
conjecture is on foot as to what their career ought to be.
Grounds for Promotion.
When the possession of means bids the school door open, the
admission and right of continuance is granted to all, till after
some proof the master, who is the first chooser of the finest,
begins to discern where there is ability to go forward, and where
natural weakness suggests prompt removal. When the master has
discovered strength or infirmity of nature, as may appear in the
ease or difficulty of acquiring and retaining that are seen in
boys of different aptitude, his desire will naturally be to have
the promising scholars continued, to procure the removal of the
duller ones by diverting their energy into some other course more
in keeping with their natural bent than learning, in which they
are likely to make little progress, however long they remain at
school. Care must be taken, however, not to decide prematurely, for
it may prove that those wits that at first were found to be very
hard and blunt may soften and prove sharp in time, and show a finer
edge, though this is not to be applied to dullards generally. For
natural dulness will show itself in everything that concerns memory
and understanding, while that kind of dulness that may some day
change into sharpness will show itself only at intervals, like a
cloudy day that will turn out fine in the end. Wherefore, injustice
may be done by a hasty judgment, and, on the other hand, the boy
who is not yet strong enough for manual work may remain a little
longer at school, where, even if he do little good, he is sure to
take little harm. Moreover, if the parents can afford it, and wish
to keep their children on at school, even though their progress
is small, the master must have patience, and measure his pains by
the parent’s purse, where he knows there is plenty, and not by the
child’s profit, which he sees will be small. Only he must keep the
parent constantly informed how matters stand, both as a matter of
duty and to prevent disappointment. But the case is different with
a poor child, who should be sent to a trade at once, if he is not
promising in learning.
Co-operation of Parents.
Seeing that the schoolmaster, to whose judgment I commend the
choice, is no absolute potentate in our commonwealth, to dispose
of people’s children as he pleases, but only a counsellor to act
along with the parent, if the latter is willing to take advice,
I should wish, that in order to have this duly accomplished,
parents and teachers should be not only acquainted, but on friendly
terms with each other. And though some parents need no counsel,
and some teachers can give but little, yet the wise parent is
always willing to listen before he decides, and the opinion of a
skilful teacher deserves to be heard. If this co-operation cannot
be established, the poor child will suffer in the present, and
the parents will lose much satisfaction in the end. This kind
of control will continue as long as the child is either under a
master in school, or under a tutor in college, and in this period
a great number may be very wisely arranged for, unlearned trades
being sufficiently supplied, and a life of learning reserved for
those only who by their intelligence and judgment are fitted for
it. By such means the proportion will be properly adjusted in
every branch of the public service, and the risk avoided of having
too large a total number. This period under the master’s charge
is the only period when the youth can be controlled by outside
direction; for afterwards at a more dangerous age they come to
choose for themselves, and their defects of nature and manners, if
not corrected, may bring sorrow to them and to their friends. And
though the schoolmaster may not always have his counsel followed in
such a case, yet if he let the parent know his opinion his duty
will be discharged. For if the parent shows himself unwilling to
follow the teacher’s opinion, supported by good reasons, but under
the influence of blind affection overestimates his child’s aptitude
for learning, then though the master should for his own gain keep
on an unpromising pupil, the fault lies with the parent who would
not see even after fair warning. So that it always proves true that
parents and teachers should be familiarly linked together in amity
and continual conference for their common charge, and that each
should trust in the judgment and personal goodwill of the other.
This will come to pass only when the teacher is carefully chosen
and kept on terms of friendly conference--not merely because “my
neighbour’s children go to school with you, so you shall have mine
too,”--a common reason in the case of children who are continually
being sent posting about to try all sorts of schools, and never
stay long in any, thus reaping as much learning as the rolling
stone gathers moss.
Admission into Colleges.
The other means whereby some selection may be made is by admission
into colleges, preferments to degrees, advancement to livings. In
regard to these the commonwealth may receive all the greater harm
that they come nearer the public service, so that plain dealing is
the more praiseworthy, in order to prevent mischief. As concerns
colleges I do not consider that the scholarships in them are
intended only for poor students, for whose needs that small help
could never suffice, (though some advantage may be given to them
in consideration of special promise which has no other chance of
being recognised) but rather that they are simply preferments for
learning and advancements for virtue, alike to the wealthy as a
reward of well-doing, and to the poorer students as a necessary
support. Therefore, as in admission I would give freedom to choose
from both sorts, so I would restrict the choice to those who give
genuine promise of usefulness. For if elections are swayed by
favour, shown on grounds not of merit but of private friendship,
though perhaps with some colour of regard for learning, those who
are responsible for the injustice will repent when it is too late,
finding themselves served in their own coin; for those who get in
by such means, owing their own advancement to private influence,
will act in the same way towards others, without regard to the
common welfare. When favour is shown on any other ground than that
of merit, founders are discouraged, public provision is misused,
and learning gives place to idling. But if elections were made on
grounds of fitness alone, the unfit would be diverted in time into
some other channel, the best would be chosen, the intentions of
founders would be fulfilled, some perjury for the non-performance
of statutes would be avoided, new patrons would be procured,
religion advanced, and good students encouraged.
Preferment to Degrees.
Preferment to degrees may be, and indeed ought to be, a more
powerful check on insufficiency, because by this means the whole
country is made either a lamentable spoil to bold ignorance, or
a favourable soil for sober knowledge. When a scholar is allowed
by authority of the University to profess capacity in a certain
specialty for which he bears the title, and is sent into the world
by the help of people who have acted under unworthy influences in
disregard of merit, what must our country think when she hears the
boast of the University title sound in her ears, and fails to find
the benefit of University learning to serve her in her need? She
will not blame the ignorant graduate, who is only naturally trying
to do the best for himself, but she will very greatly blame the
Universities for having deceived her and betrayed her trust. For
in granting a degree the University is virtually saying, “Before
God and my country, I know this man, not by perfunctory knowledge,
but by thorough examination, to be well able to perform in the
Commonwealth the duties of the profession to which his degree
belongs, and the country may rest upon my credit in security for
his sufficiency.” What if the University knew beforehand that
he neither was such an one, nor was ever likely to prove such?
Let the earnest professors of true religion in the universities
at this day consult their consciences and remedy the defect for
their own credit and the good of their country. A teacher may be
pardoned, for seeking thus earnestly to have true worth recognised,
considering that thereby would come not only satisfaction to
himself, but advantage to his pupils and to the country at large.
Can he be anything but grieved to see the results for which he
has laboured with infinite care and pains set at naught by bad
management at a later stage? It seems to be reasonable for anyone
who is given the charge of numbers to concern himself not only with
what comes under his own immediate regulation, but with the means
of securing public protection and encouragement for his pupils
after they pass out of his care.
Natural Capacity in Children.
I will now consider what children ought to learn when they are
first sent to school. There are in the human soul certain natural
capacities which by the wisdom of parents and the discernment of
teachers, who may perceive them in the child’s infancy and do their
best to cultivate them, may eventually be made very profitable
both to their possessor, and to the commonwealth. If these natural
capacities are not perceived, those who are responsible must be
charged either with ignorance or with negligence, and if they are
perceived but are either not improved or wrongly directed, the
teachers and trainers, whether they are parents or schoolmasters,
must be much lacking in sound skill, or else they are guided by
stupid fancies. Without making any complete analysis of the mental
powers, I would point out some natural inclinations in the soul,
which seem to crave the help of education and nurture, and by
means of these may be cultivated to advantage. In the little young
souls we find first a capacity to perceive what is taught to them,
and to imitate those around them. That faculty of learning and
following should be well employed by choosing the proper matter
to be set before them, by carefully proceeding step by step in a
reasonable order, by handling them warily so as to draw them on
with encouragement. We find also in them a power of retention;
therefore their memories should at once be furnished with the very
best, seeing that it is a treasury, and never suffered to be idle,
as it loses its power so soon. For in default of the better, the
worse will take possession, and bid itself welcome. We find in
them further an ability to discern what is good and what is evil,
so that they should forthwith be acquainted with what is best, by
learning to obey authority, and dissuaded from the worse by the
fear of disapproval. These three things, perception, memory, and
judgment, ye will find peering out of the little young souls at a
time when ye can see what is in them, but they cannot yet see it
themselves. Now these natural capacities being once discerned, must
as they arise be followed with diligence, increased by good method,
and encouraged by sympathy, till they come to their fruition.
Encouragement better than Severity.
The best way to secure good progress, so that the intelligence may
conceive clearly, memory may hold fast, and judgment may choose
and discern the best, is so to ply them that all may proceed
voluntarily, and not with violence, so that the will may be ready
to do well, and loth to do ill, and all fear of correction may be
entirely absent. Surely to beat for not learning a child that is
willing enough to learn, but whose intelligence is defective, is
worse than madness.
Moral Training falls chiefly on Parents.
The duty of leading children to cleave to the good and forsake the
bad, in matters of ordinary conduct, is shared by all who come
in contact with them; it belongs to the parents by nature, to
schoolmasters by the charge committed to them, to neighbours as a
matter of courtesy, and to people in general on the ground of a
common humanity. Teachers, it is true, have special opportunities
of influencing the morals and manners of children, by means of
the authority they naturally exercise, in teaching them what is
best, and inducing them to practise it, even by force at first,
till they come to appreciate it for themselves. But this control
of good manners is not for teachers alone, for as I have said,
they must co-operate with the parents, to whom that duty naturally
appertains most nearly, as they have the fullest authority over
the children. Wherefore, reserving for the teacher only so much
as strictly belongs to him, in instructing the child what is best
in good manners, and in framing good regulations and seeing that
they are properly carried out, I refer the rest to those who are
the appointed guardians of morals, to secure either by private
discipline at home, or by public control outside, that young
people are well brought up to distinguish the good from the bad,
the seemly from the unseemly, that they may know God, serve their
country, be a comfort to their friends, and help one another, as
good fellow-citizens are bound to do. But the task of training
their intelligence and memory belongs wholly to the teacher, and I
will now proceed to deal with it.
Elementary Instruction--Reading.
I might very well be thought wanting in discretion if I were to
press any far-fetched proposals into this discussion of general
principles, and I shall therefore deal only with methods that
are in harmony with the customs of this country, and with the
circumstances of the time. Among the subjects of instruction
that have universally been recognised and practised, _Reading_
certainly holds the first place, alike for the training of the
mind in the process of acquiring it, and for its usefulness after
it is acquired. For the printed page is the first and simplest
material for impressions in the art of teaching, and nothing comes
before it. When by gradual practice in combining letters and in
spelling out words under direction, the child has acquired the
faculty of reading easily, what a cluster of benefits thus come
within reach! Whatever anyone has published to the world by pen or
print, for any end of profit or pleasure, whether of free will
or under constraint, by reading it is all made to serve us--in
religion, to promote the love and fear of God, in law, to aid us
in rendering obedience and service to our fellow-men, and in life
generally to enable us to expel ignorance and acquire skill to do
everything well. Wherefore I make Reading the first foundation on
which everything else must rest, and being a thing of such moment,
it should be thoroughly learned when it is once begun, as facility
will save much trouble both to master and scholar at a later stage.
The child should have his reading perfect both in the English and
in the Latin tongue long before he dreams of studying grammar.
The Vernacular First.
As for the question whether English or Latin should be first
learned, hitherto there may seem to have been some reasonable
doubt, although the nature of the two tongues ought to decide the
matter clearly enough; for while our religion was expressed only
in Latin, the single rule of learning was to learn to read that
language, as tending to the knowledge valued by the Church. But now
that we have returned to our English tongue as being proper to the
soil and to our faith, this restraint is removed, and liberty is
restored, so that we can follow the direction of reason and nature,
in learning to read first that which we speak first, to take most
care over that which we use most, and in beginning our studies
where we have the best chance of good progress, owing to our
natural familiarity with our ordinary language, as spoken by those
around us in the affairs of every-day life. This is the better
order also in respect that English presents certain difficulties
that are absent in Latin, and that children can master more easily
when their memories are still unstored, and considerations
of reason do not affect them. While Latin has been purified
to a definite form in which it has been fixed and preserved,
English, though it is progressing very fairly, is still wanting
in refinement, the spelling being harder, and the pronunciation
harsher, than in Latin.
Material of Reading.
In this a special and continual regard should be had to these four
points in the child--his _memory_, his _delight_, his _capacity_,
and his _advancement_.
As to his _memory_, I would provide that as he must practise it
even from the first, so he may also practise it upon the best, both
for pleasure in the course of learning, and for profit afterwards.
As to his _delight_, which is no mean allurement to his learning
well, I would be equally careful that the matter which he
shall read, may be so fit for his years, and so plain to his
intelligence, that when he is at school, he may desire to go
forward in so interesting a study, and when he comes home, he may
take great pleasure in telling his parents what pretty little
things he finds in his book, and that the parents also may have no
less pleasure in hearing their little one speak, so that each of
them shall rather seek to anticipate the other, the child to be
telling something, and the parent to be asking.
As to his _capacity_, I would so provide, that the matter which he
shall learn may be so easy to understand, and the terms which I
will use, so simple to follow, that both one and the other shall
bring nothing but encouragement.
As to his _advancement_, I would be very particular that there
may be such consideration and choice in syllables, words, and
sentences, and in all the incidental notes, that there shall be
nothing wanting which may seem worth the wishing, to help fully
either in spelling correctly, or reading easily; so that the child
who can read these well, may read anything else well, if the
reading master will keep that order in his teaching which I intend
to give him in my precept, and not do the infant harm by hurrying
him on too fast, and measuring his forwardness not by his own
knowledge but by the notions of his friends.
Writing.
Next to reading followeth _Writing_, at some reasonable distance
after, because it requireth some strength in the hand, which is
not so steady and firm for writing as the tongue is stirring and
ready for reading. But though in education writing should succeed
reading, in its origin it must have been earlier. For the pen or
some such instrument did carve, first roughly and then completely,
the letter or letter-like device, and thereby did the eye behold in
outward form what the voice delivered to the ear in sound, so that
writing was used as the interpreter of the mind, and reading became
the expounder of the pen. From its rude beginnings writing has
advanced so much that it now proves the prop of remembrance, the
executor of most affairs, the deliverer of secrets, the messenger
of meanings, the inheritance of posterity, whereby they receive
whatever is bequeathed to them, in law to live by, in letters to
learn and enjoy. For the proper study of this valuable art the
master must himself acquire, and must teach his scholar, a neat
handwriting, fast and easy to read, and the matter of the headline,
from which example is taken, should be pithy, and suitable for
enriching the memory with a profitable provision. Practice should
not be left off till it hath brought great skill and readiness,
for writing once perfectly acquired is a wonderful help in the rest
of our learning.
Elementary Period a Time of Probation.
During the time of learning to read and to write the child’s
intelligence will manifest itself so as to decide whether it may
venture further upon greater learning, or were best, owing to some
natural defect, to take to something requiring less skill. But if
the child is set to any higher work while he is still of tender
years, his master pushing him on beyond what he is ready for, there
may be loss of temper, which often breaks out into beating, to
the dulling of the child, the discouraging of the master, and the
reproach of school-life, which should not only yield satisfaction
in the end, when learning has become a sure possession, but should
pass on very pleasantly by the way. Whatever children learn, they
should learn perfectly, for if opportunity to go on further should
fail them, through loss of friends or other misfortune, it were
good that they know thoroughly what they had practised, whereas
if it is known only imperfectly it will stand them in very small
stead, or none at all. To write and read well is a pretty good
stock for a poor boy to begin the world with.
Drawing.
After careful consideration of the matter no one will hold it open
to controversy that _Drawing_ with pen or pencil should be taught
along with writing, to which it is very closely related. For a
pen and penknife, ink and paper, a pair of compasses and a ruler,
a desk, and a sandbox, will set them both up, and in these early
years, while the fingers are flexible, and the hand easily brought
under control, good progress can be made. And generally those that
have a natural aptitude for writing will have a knack of drawing
too, and show some evident talent in that direction. And the place
that judgment holds in the mind as the measure of what is just and
seemly, is filled in the world of sense by drawing, which judges of
the proportion and aspect of all that appeals to the eyes.
Because Drawing uses both number and figure to work with, I
would cull out as much numbering from Arithmetic, the mistress
of numbers, and so much figuring out of Geometry, the lady of
figures, as shall serve for a foundation to the child’s drawing,
without either difficulty to frighten him, or tediousness to tire
him. Whatever shall belong to colouring, shading, and such other
technical points, since they are more the concern of the painter
than of the beginner in drawing, I would reserve them for a later
stage, and leave them to the student’s choice, when he is to
specialise and betake himself to some particular trade in life. At
which time, if he chance to choose the pen and pencil to live by,
this introduction will then prove his great friend, as he himself
shall find, when he puts it to the proof. Last of all, inasmuch
as drawing is a thing that is thoroughly useful to many good
workmen who live honestly by its means, and attain a good degree of
estimation and wealth, such as architects, embroiderers, engravers,
statuaries, modellers, designers, and many others like them,
besides the learned use of it for Astronomy, Geometry, Geography,
Topography, and such other studies, I would therefore pick out
some special figures, appropriate to many of the foresaid purposes
which it seems fittest to teach a child to draw, and I would also
show how these are to be dealt with from their very beginning to
their last perfection, seeing it is beyond all controversy that
if drawing be thought needful it should be dealt with while the
fingers are supple, and the writing is still in progress, so that
both the pen and the pencil, both the rule and the compass, may go
forward together.
Music.
Music completes the list of elementary subjects, and is divided
into two parts--the cultivation of the voice, and the practice of
an instrument, the former resembling reading, as it produces to
the ear what is seen by the eye, the latter resembling writing, as
it imitates the voice. Both should be begun early, while the voice
and the muscles are still pliable to training. Singing has the
advantage of being less costly than the study of an instrument in
regard to the necessary provision. As to the value of Music, there
can be no room for doubt; indeed, it seems to have been sent as a
solace from heaven for the sorrows of earth. Some men think it is
over sweet, and should be either dispensed with altogether, or at
least not much practised. For my own part I cannot forbear to place
it among the most valuable means in the upbringing of the young,
and in this opinion I have the support of all the best authorities
of antiquity. There are so many arguments in favour of the art; it
is so ancient, so honourable, so universal, so highly valued in all
times and places, alike in Church services and otherwise; it is
such a calmer of passion, such a powerful influence on the mind,
that I must stay my hand in writing about it, lest being fairly
embarked I should be unable to stop. It will be enough for me to
say of Music that it is in accordance with national custom, that
it is very comforting to the wearied mind, that it is a means of
persuasion which all must appreciate who delight in the proportions
of number, that it is best and most easily learned in childhood,
when it can do least harm, that its harmonies could not have such
power to stir emotion if they had not some close natural affinity
to the constitution of the body and soul of man, and that we see
and read the wonderful effects it has had in the cure of desperate
diseases. And yet with all its claims it arouses distrust in some
quarters, even in honest and well-disposed natures that are too
much inclined to sternness. They, however, will probably alter
their opinion, if they will consider more deeply what Music is in
its true nature, or if they come to discuss the matter with those
who take a sounder view, or more certainly still if the art in its
best form has a favourable chance of appealing to their listening
ears. The science itself hath naturally great power to probe and
sway the inclination of the mind to this or that emotion, through
the properties of number in which it consists. It also gives great
delight through its harmonies, to which the moods of the hearers
respond. It is for this that some disapprove of it, holding that
it provokes too much to vain pleasures, and lays the mind open to
the entry of light thoughts. And to some also it seems harmful
on religious grounds, because it carrieth away the ear with the
sweetness of the melody, and bewitcheth the mind with a siren’s
sound, seducing it from those pleasures wherein it ought to dwell,
into fantasies of harmony, and withdrawing it from virtuous
thoughts to strange and wandering devices. A sufficient answer to
all this is that in respect of a thing that may be, and was meant
to be, properly used, it is no just ground against it that it may
also be abused. Music will not harm thee if thy behaviour be good,
and thy intention honest; it will not betray thee if thy ears can
take it in and interpret it aright. Receive it in a proper spirit,
and it will serve thee to good purpose. If thy manners be bad,
or thy judgment corrupt, it is not music alone which thou dost
abuse, nor canst thou clear thyself of the blame that belongs to
thy character by casting it on Music. It is thou that hast abused
her, and not she thee. And why should those who can use it rightly
forego their own good because of a few peevish people who can never
be pleased?
The training in Music, as in all other faculties, has a special eye
to these three points:--the child himself, who is to learn; the
matter itself, which he is to learn; and the instrument itself,
on which he is to learn. I will so deal with the first and the
last heads, that is, in regard to the child and the instrument,
that neither of them shall lack whatever is needful, either for
framing the child’s voice, or exercising his fingers, or choosing
his lessons, or tuning his instrument. For in the voice there is
a proper pitch, where it is neither over nor under-strained, but
delicately brought to its best condition, to last out well, and
rise or fall within due compass, and so that it may become tunable
and pleasant to hear. And in the training of the fingers also,
there is regard to be had, both that the child strike the notes
clearly, so as not to spoil the sound, and that his fingers run
with certainty and lightness, so as to avoid indistinct execution.
Of these the first commonly falls out through too much haste in the
young learner, who is ever longing to press forward; the second
fault comes of the master himself, who does not consider the
natural dexterity and order of development in the joints, for if
this is rightly attended to, the fingers easily become flexible and
master difficulties of execution without pain. As for the matter of
music, which the child is to learn, I would set down by what means
and degrees, and by what lessons, a boy who is to be brought up
to sing may and ought to proceed regularly from the first term of
art, and the first note in sound, until he shall be able without
any frequent or serious failure to sing his part in prick-song,
either by himself at first while he is inexperienced, or with
others for good practice afterwards. For I take so much to be
enough for an Elementary institution, which can only introduce the
subject, though it must follow the right principle, and I postpone
the study of composition and harmony till further knowledge and
maturity are attained, when the whole body of music will demand
attention. And yet since the child must always be advancing in
that direction, I would set him down to rules of composition and
harmony, which will make him better able to judge of singing,
just as in language he who is accustomed to write can best judge
of a writer. Concerning the virginals and the lute, which two
instruments I have chosen because of the full music uttered by them
and the variety of execution they require, I would also set down as
many chosen lessons for both as shall bring the young learner to
play reasonably well on them, though not at first sight, whether by
the ear or by the book, always provided that prick-song go before
playing.
Four Elementary Subjects.
Children, therefore, are to be trained up in the Elementary School,
for helping forward the abilities of the mind, in these four
things, as recommended to us both by reason and custom: _Reading_,
to enable us to receive what has been bequeathed to us by others,
and to store our memories with what is best for us; _Writing_, to
enable us to do for others what was done for us, by handing on
the fruits of our own experience, and besides to serve our own
purposes; _Drawing_, to be a guide to the senses, and to afford us
pleasure in the objects of sight; and _Music_, both with the voice
and with an instrument, for the reasons above stated.
By reading we receive what antiquity has left us; by writing we
hand on what posterity craves of us; by both we get great advantage
in all the circumstances of our daily life. By delineating with the
pencil, what object is there open to the eye, either brought forth
by nature, or set forth by art, the knowledge and use of which we
cannot attain to? By the study of music, besides the acquirement
of a noble science, so definitely formed by arithmetical precept,
so necessary a step to further knowledge, such a glass in which
to behold both the beauty of concord and the blots of dissension,
even in a body politic, how much help and pleasure our natural
weakness receives for consolation, for hope, for courage! I do
not touch here on the skilful handling of the untrained voice,
nor the fine exercising of the unskilled fingers, though these
things are not to be neglected where they can be obtained, and are
naturally required when imperfection is to be removed by them.
Again, does not all our learning, apprehended by the eye and
uttered by the tongue, confess the great benefit it receives by
reading? Does not all our expression, brought forth by the mind
and set down by the pen, acknowledge obligation to the study of
writing? Do not all our descriptions, which picture to the sense
what is fashioned in thought, both preach and praise the pencil
which makes them visible? Does not all our delight in times of
leisure,--and we labour only for the sake of gaining rest and
freedom from care,--protest in plain terms that it is wonderfully
indebted to the music of both voice and instrument? This is the
natural sweetener of our bitter life, in the judgment of every man
who is not too much soured. Now, what quality of learning is there,
deserving of any praise, that does not fall within this elementary
course, or is not furthered by it, whether it be connected with the
higher professions, or occupations of lower rank, or the necessary
trades of common life?
Study of Languages.
Inasmuch as Grammar is used partly as a help to foreign languages,
it furthers us very much in that way, because all our learning
being got from foreign countries, as registered in their tongues,
if we lack the knowledge of the one, we lack the hope of the other.
When learning and knowledge came first to light, those men who were
the authors of them uttered their minds in the same speech that
they used when they bred the things. And as they needed no foreign
tongue for matter that was bred at home, so they had no use of any
Grammar but that by which they endeavoured to refine their natural
speech at home. But when their devices, first set out in their own
tongues, were afterwards sought for by foreign students to increase
their learning and to enrich their country with foreign wares, the
foreign students were then driven to seek the assistance of Grammar
of the second kind, because they could not understand the things
which were written in a foreign tongue, without the knowledge of
the tongue itself.
In the primitive Grammar children being trained as I now require,
went straightway from the elementary to the substance of learning,
and to the mathematical sciences, which are so termed, because
indeed the whole scholars’ learning consisted in them, as in the
first degree of right study. For whatever goes before them in
right order is nothing but mere elementary study, and whatever
goes before them in wrong order, as it is distorted in nature, it
works no great wonder. But in the second use of Grammar, we are
forced of necessity, after the elementary subjects, however hurried
and simple they may be, to deal with the tongues ere we pass to
the substance of learning; and this help from the tongues, though
it is most necessary, as our study is now arranged, yet hinders
us in time, which is a thing of great price,--nay, it hinders us
in knowledge, a thing of greater price. For in lingering over
language we are removed and kept back one degree further from sound
knowledge, and this hindrance comes in our best learning time,
while we are under masters and readers, of whom we may learn far
better than of ourselves, if as much regard be had to their choice,
as I have elsewhere recommended.
Follow Nature.
The proof of a good Elementary Course is, that it should follow
nature in the multitude of its gifts, and that it should proceed
in teaching as she does in developing. For as she is unfriendly
wherever she is forced, so she is the best guide that anyone can
have, wherever she shows herself favourable. Wherefore, if nature
makes a child most fit to excel in many aptitudes, provided these
are furthered by early training, is not that education much to
be blamed that fails to do its part, allowing the child to be
deprived by negligence of the excellence that nature intended for
it? Again, seeing that there are no natural gifts that cannot be
helped forward by training, is not that manner of study to be most
highly approved which takes most pains where nature is most lavish?
The hand, the ear, the eye, are the chief means of receiving and
handing on our learning. And does not this course of study instruct
the hand how to write, to draw, to play; the eye to read by
letters, to distinguish form by lines, to judge by means of both;
the ear to call for the sound of voice and instrument for its own
pleasure and cultivation? And, in general, whatever gift nature has
bestowed upon the body, to be brought out or improved by training,
for any profitable use in life, does not this elementary course
find it out and make the most of it? As for the capacities of the
mind, whether they concern virtuous living or skill in learning,
whatever be the art, science, or profession to which they belong,
do they not all evidently depend upon reading and writing as their
natural foundations? The study of language must be the basis of
grammar, rhetoric, logic, and their derivatives, among which may
be counted all the parts of philosophy, both moral and natural,
as well as the three professions of divinity, law, and medicine,
using as they do in all their branches the instrument of speech.
If mathematics be in question, or any kindred subjects that have
a bearing on mechanical science, though their secondary use is
to whet the mental powers, yet they must rest on a study of the
properties of number, figure, motion, and sound. And as for our
pleasure in the beauties of art, that is obtained by the provision
of drawing for the eye and music for the ear. So that, in my
opinion, the fathers and founders of this elementary course (which
I am only attempting to reintroduce, though with as much goodwill
as so good a thing deserves) have shown great foresight in laying
such sure foundations as to secure that all natural capacities
shall not only be carefully fostered at their first sprouting,
but brought to the fullest perfection when they are ripe for the
harvest. When I use the term _nature_ I mean that power which God
has implanted in his creatures, both to preserve the race and to
fulfil the end of their being. The continuance of their kind is
the proof of their being, but the fulfilment of their end is the
fruit of their being. This latter is the point to which education
has a special eye (though it does not despise the other), so that
the young fry may be brought up to prove good in the end, and serve
their country well in whatever position they may be placed. For
the performance of this end I take it that this elementary course
is most sufficient, being the best means of perfecting all those
powers with which nature endows our race, by using those studies
which art and reflection appoint, and those methods which nature
herself suggests. For the end of education and training is to help
nature to her perfection in the complete development of all the
various powers.
This is what I mean by following nature, not counterfeiting her
in her own proper work by foolish imitation, or perverse attempt
to produce her effects, like an Apelles in portraiture or an
Archimedes in the laws of motion, but after considering and
marking with good judgment what are the natural tendencies and
inclinations, to frame a scheme of education in consonance with
these, and bring to perfection by art all those powers which
nature bestows in frank abundance.
For the physical life of man, in order to maintain and develop both
the individual and the species, nature has provided organs that
receive, prepare and distribute nourishment for the body, and has,
besides, given us for self-preservation the power of perceiving all
sensible things by means of feeling, hearing, seeing, smelling, and
tasting. These qualities of the outward world, being apprehended
by the understanding and examined by the judgment, are handed
over to the memory, and afterwards prove our chief--nay, our
only--means of obtaining further knowledge. Moreover, we have also
a power of movement, either under the influence of emotion or by
the enticement of desire, either for the direct purposes of life,
as in the action of the pulse and in breathing, or for outward
action, such as walking, running, or leaping. To serve the end
both of sense-perception and of motion, nature has planted in the
body a brain, the prince of all our organs, which by spreading its
channels through every part of our frame produces all the effects
through which sense passes into motion.
Further, our soul has in it a desire to obtain what it holds to
be good, and to avoid what it thinks evil. This desire is stirred
either by quiet allurement or by violent incitement, and when once
it is inflamed it strives to compass its end. To satisfy this
desire nature has given us a heart to kindle heat, and as the sense
is moved by the qualities of the object, and motion is effected by
means of sinews, so appetite, being stirred by the object of desire
or repulsion, is supplied with the means of satisfying itself.
Last of all, our soul has in it an imperial prerogative of
understanding beyond sense, of judging by reason, of directing
action for duty towards God and our fellowmen, for conquest in
affection and attainment in knowledge, and for such other things as
minister to the varied uses of our mortal life, and prove its title
to continue beyond the sphere of this roaming pilgrimage. To serve
this honourable purpose of understanding and reasoning, nature,
though she has no place in this earthly body of ours worthy to
receive such great and stately guests with their whole retinue, yet
does what she can, and, herself acting as harbinger, assigns them
for lodging her principal chamber, the very closet of the brain,
where she bestows every one of reason’s understanding friends,
according to their various ranks and special dignities. All those
capacities in their first natural condition concern only the
existence of an uncultivated man; but when they are fashioned to
their best by good education, they form the life of a perfect and
excellent man. For to exist merely, to feed, to multiply, to use
the senses, to desire, to have natural and unimproved reason--what
great thing is it, though it is something more than brute beasts
have, if the other divine qualities that build upon these are not
diligently followed? These higher powers not only rise out of
the lower at the first, but honour them in the end, just as the
best fruit honours its first blossom, or as the most skilful work
graces the first ground on which it is wrought. Besides that they
prove themselves to be the most excellent ends which nature meant
from the first, though she herself made but a weak show, however
pliable for man’s industry to work on for his own advantage. He who
does not live at all cannot live well; he who does not feed at all
cannot feed moderately; he who does not reproduce cannot exercise
continence; he who has no sense cannot use it soberly; he who does
not desire cannot desire considerately; he who uses no reason
cannot use it advisedly. But he who exercises all these functions
has in them all the capacities that nature can afford him to use
them all well, and he will so use them if judgment rule as much in
having them well as necessity in having them at all. For reason, as
it is our difference in comparison with beasts, is our excellence
in comparison with men, if we use it aright.
Those powers of reasoning and understanding in man, therefore,
being handled in a workmanlike fashion and applied to their best
uses by such devices and means as are thought fittest, direct the
natural appetites so as to secure the health of the parts appointed
for them, and of the whole body, which is compounded of those
parts. They develop the senses and their organs to their best
perfection and longest endurance. They restrain desire to the rule
of reason and the advice of foresight. They enrich the mind and
the soul itself by laying up in the treasury of remembrance all
arts and imaginations, all knowledge, wisdom, and understanding, by
which either God is to be honoured or the world is to be honestly
and faithfully served; and this heavenly benefit is begun by
education, and confirmed and perfected by continuous exercise,
which crowns the whole work.
Education of Girls.
In naming the persons who were to receive the benefit of education
I did not exclude young maidens, and, therefore, seeing I made them
one branch of my division, I must now say something more about
them. Some may think that the matter might well enough have been
passed over in silence, as not belonging to my purpose, seeing
that my professional concern is with the education of boys. But
seeing that I begin as low as the first elementary training, in
which young maidens ordinarily share, how could I seem to take no
notice of them? And to prove that they ought to receive education I
find four special reasons, any one of which--therefore surely all
together--may persuade their greatest adversary, much more then
myself, who am for them tooth and nail. The first is the custom of
the country, which allows them to learn. The second is the duty we
owe to them, charging us in conscience not to leave them deficient.
The third is their own aptness to learn, which God would never have
bestowed on them to remain idle or to be used to small purpose. The
fourth is the excellent results shown in them when they have had
the advantage of good upbringing.
I do not advocate sending young maidens to public Grammar Schools,
or to the Universities, as this has never been the custom in this
country. I would allow them learning within certain limits, having
regard to the difference in their vocation, and in the ends which
they should seek in study. We see young maidens are taught to read
and write, and can learn to do well in both; we hear them both
sing and play passing well; we know that they learn the best and
finest of our learned languages to the admiration of all men. As
to the living modern languages of highest reputation in our time,
if any one is inclined to deny that in these they can compare
with the best of our sex, they will claim no other tests than to
talk with such a one in whichever of these tongues he may choose.
These things our country doth stand to; these accomplishments
their parents procure for them according to their means and
opportunities, in so far as their daughters’ aptitude doth
offer hope of their gaining an advantage through them, by being
preferred in marriage or some other career. Nay, do we not see in
our country some of that sex so excellently well trained, and so
rarely qualified in regard both to the tongues themselves and to
the subject-matter contained in them, that they may be placed along
with, or even above, the most vaunted paragons of Greece or Rome,
or the German and French gentlewomen so much praised by recent
writers, or the Italian ladies who dare even to write themselves,
and deserve fame for so doing?
And what be young maidens in relation to our sex? Do we not,
according to nature, choose from among them those who are to be our
nearest and most necessary friends, the mothers of our children?
Are they not the very creatures that were made for our comfort,
the only remedy for our solitude, our closest companions in weal
or woe, sharers in all our fortunes until death? And can we in
conscience do otherwise than give careful thought to the welfare of
those that are linked to us in so many ways? Is it a small thing
to have our children’s mothers well strengthened in mind as in
body? And is there any better means of strengthening their minds
than to teach them that knowledge of God and religion, of civil and
domestic duties, which we ourselves gain by education, and ought
not to deny to them--that education which is to be found in books,
and can be so well acquired in youth?
If Nature has given to young maidens abilities to prove excellent
in their kind, and yet thereby in no way to fail in their most
laudable duties in marriage, but rather to beautify themselves
with admirable ornaments, are we not to be charged with extreme
unnaturalness if we do not guide by discipline what is given to
them by Nature?
The excellent effects in those women who have been well trained
show clearly that they deserve the best training. What better
example can be found to assure the world than our most dear
sovereign lady and princess, who is so familiarly acquainted with
the nine Muses that they strive which may love her best for being
the most learned, and for whose excellent knowledge we who taste of
the fruit have most cause to rejoice?
Aim of Education for Girls.
But now having granted them the benefit and society of our
education, we must determine the end which this training is to
serve, so that it may be better applied. Our training is without
restriction either as regards subject-matter or method, because our
employment is so general; their functions are limited, and so must
their education be also. If a young maiden is to be brought up with
a view to marriage, obedience to authority and similar qualities
must form the best kind of training; if from necessity she has to
learn how to earn her own living, some technical training must
prepare her for a definite calling; if she is to adorn some high
position she must acquire suitable accomplishments; if she is
destined for government, which may be offered to her by men, and
is not denied her by God, the greatness of the position calls for
general excellence, and a variety of gifts. Wherefore, having these
different ends always in view, we may appoint them different kinds
of training in accordance with circumstances.
But some churlish carper will say: “What should women do with
learning?” Such a one will never pick out the best, but be always
ready to blame the worst. If all men always made a good use of
their learning we might have something to allege against women,
but seeing that misuse is common to both sexes why should we blame
them, when we are not free from the same infirmity ourselves? Some
women may make a bad use of their writing, others of their reading;
some may turn all that they learn to bad account. And I pray you
what do we? I do not excuse ill, but I bar those from accusing who
are as bad themselves. As we share both virtues and vices with
women, let us exchange forbearance, and, hoping for the best, give
them free opportunity.
When their Education should begin.
This is my opinion as to which ought to be educated and when they
should begin. The same liberty, in respect of circumstances, being
allowed to parents in regard to their daughters as has been granted
to them with their sons, the same consideration being had for
their fitness of mind and body, and the same care being taken for
suitable physical exercise to further their health and strength, I
consider the same time of beginning proper for both--a time not to
be wholly determined by years, but rather by their development as
shown by their ability to use their intelligence without tiring,
and to work without wearying their bodies. For though girls seem
generally to have a quicker ripening of intelligence than boys, in
spite of appearances this is not the case. Through natural weakness
they cannot contain long what they possess, and so give it out
very soon; yet there are prating boys just as there are prattling
wenches. Besides, their brains are not so much laden as those of
boys, either as regards amount or variety, and therefore like empty
casks they make the greater noise. In the same way those men who
seem to be very quickwitted by some sudden pretty answer or some
sharp repartee, are not always most burdened with learning, but
merely offer the best out of a small store, taking after their
mothers. Though they must of course possess this sharpness of wit
since it manifests itself, yet it might dwell within them a great
while without manifesting itself, if study kept them quiet, or they
were preoccupied with great deeds. It is small affairs, urging to
speedy expression, that beget that kind of readiness. Boys have it
always but often hide it because they can afford to wait; girls
have it always and always show it, because they are in a greater
hurry. And seeing it is to be found in both, it deserves care
in both, so that they should neither be pushed on too much nor
allowed to be idle too long. Maidens are naturally weaker in body,
therefore more attention must be paid to them in this regard than
is necessary for boys. They are to be the principal pillars in the
upholding of households, and so they are likely to prove if their
training be wise. They will be the dearest comfort a man can have
if they incline to good, the greatest curse, if they tread awry.
Therefore they are to be warily tended, as they bear a jewel of
such worth in a vessel of such weakness.
All should have Elementary Education.
The rare excellences in some women cannot be taken as a precedent
for all to follow, as they only show us the special success that
a few parents have attained in their daughters’ upbringing. These
shining examples, however, though they cannot be used to form
general precepts, are at least proofs that women can learn if they
will, and may learn what they please, if they lend their minds to
it. To learn to read is very common where it is convenient, and
writing is not refused, where opportunity serves. Reading, even if
it were of no other use, is very needful for religion, to enable
them to know what they ought to perform, if they have none whom
they can listen to, or if their memories are not steadfast, to
refresh them. Here I may not omit many great pleasures which those
women that have time and skill to read, without hindering their
housewifery, do continually receive by reading comforting and wise
discourses, penned either in the form of history or directions to
live by. As for writing, though it may be abused, it is often very
convenient, especially in matters of business.
Music is very desirable for maidens where it is to be had, though
chiefly for the satisfaction of the parents when the daughters are
young, as is generally shown when the young wenches become young
wives, and in learning to be mothers, lightly forget their music,
thus proving that they studied it more to please their parents than
themselves. But if having been once learned, it can be kept up, as
is quite possible with proper management, it is a pity to let it
go, as it was acquired only with great pains and at considerable
cost. Learning to sing and play from the notes is easy enough, if
it be attended to from the first, and this can be kept up too,
though it suffers from discontinuance. Seeing it is but little that
girls can learn, the time being so short, because they are always
in haste to get husbands, it is expedient that what they do should
be done perfectly, so that with the loss of their penny they do not
lose their pennyworth also.
As for skill in needlework and housewifery, it is a great
recommendation in a woman to be able to govern and direct her
household, to look to her home and family, to provide and take care
of necessaries, although the good-man pay, to know the resources of
her kitchen in regard to all over whom she has charge, in sickness
and in health. But I meddle not with this as I am only dealing with
things that are incident to learning. I have now spoken of all the
subjects that should universally be taught to girls.
Higher Studies for Some.
The question as to how far any maiden may proceed in learning
beyond the subjects already spoken of requires more consideration
and more careful handling as it is a matter of some moment
concerning those in high position. And yet there are some of low
degree that seek to resemble those above them, and are satisfied
even with an appearance of imitation, but in so doing they are
passing the bounds of what is beseeming to their birth. It is mere
folly when a parent of humble station traineth up his daughter in
these high accomplishments, of which I shall presently speak, if
she marries in her own lowly rank. For in such a case these gifts
will seem so out of place that she will not gain the respect that
is paid to one who has been wisely brought up, but will rather be
accused of vain presumption. Each rank has a certain preparation
becoming to it, which is best secured when there is no attempt to
overstretch one’s powers. If some unusual capacity attain success
beyond expectation, it is generally a marked exception, and whoever
shoots at the same mark, in the hope of hitting, may sooner miss,
for there are many chances of missing to one of hitting, and
wonders that are seen only once are no examples to imitate. Every
maid may not hope to speed as she would wish, because one hath sped
better than she could have wished.
When the question is _how much_ a woman ought to learn, the answer
may be, “as much as shall be needful,” and if this is doubtful
also, the reply may be, either as much as befits what her parents
hope to obtain for her, if their position be humble, or as much
as is in keeping with the prospects naturally belonging to their
rank, if that rank be high. If the parents be of good standing, and
the daughters have special aptitudes, these may be successfully
cultivated, so that the young maidens are very soon commended to
right honourable matches in which their accomplishments will be
seemly and serviceable, benefitting perhaps the commonwealth as
well as their own families. If the parents be of humble rank,
and the maidens in their education show from the very first some
special gifts that offer good promise, even with natural progress,
there is ground for hope that their unusual qualities may bring
them to some great match. Doubtless this hope may fail, for great
personages have not always the good judgment, nor young maidens the
good fortune, that would lead to such a result, yet in any case
the maidens would remain the gainers, for they at least have their
gifts to comfort their mediocre station, and those great personages
lose from the lack of judgment to set forth their nobility.
What Higher Studies are Suitable.
Carrying the education further may consist either in perfecting
the four studies already mentioned, reading well, writing neatly,
singing sweetly, and playing finely, to such an unusual degree,
that though the things are but ordinary, special excellence in them
may bring more than ordinary admiration, or else in acquiring skill
in languages in addition to the above, so that the abundance of
gifts may cause yet more wonder.
I fear women would have little turn for geometry or the sister
sciences, nor would I make them mathematicians, except in so far as
they study music, nor lawyers to plead at the bar, nor physicians,
though skill in herbs has been much commended in women, nor
would I have them profess divinity, to preach in pulpits, though
they must practice it as virtuous livers. Philosophy would help
them in general discourse, if they had leisure to study it, but
the knowledge of some tongues, either as the vehicle of deeper
learning, or for their immediate uses, may well be wished for them,
and all those powers also that belong to the furniture of speech.
If I should allow them the pencil to draw, as well as the pen to
write, and thereby entitle them to all my elementary studies, I
might have good reasons to give. For young maidens are ready enough
to take to it, and it would help to beautify their needlework.
And is not a young gentlewoman, think you, thoroughly well equipped
who can read distinctly, write neatly and swiftly, sing sweetly,
and play and draw well, understand and speak the learned languages,
as well as the modern tongues approved by her time and country,
and who has some knowledge of logic and rhetoric, besides the
information acquired in her study of foreign languages? If in
addition to all this she be an honest woman and a good housewife,
would she not be worth wishing for and worth enshrining? And is it
likely that her children will be one whit the worse brought up?
Who should be their Teachers.
The only other question in regard to young maidens is where, and
under whom, they should learn, and this depends on how long their
studies can extend, which is generally till they are about thirteen
or fourteen years old.
Those who are able to continue longer have their time and place
suitably appointed, according to the circumstances of their
parents. As for their teachers, their own sex were fittest in some
respects, but ours frame them best, and with good regard to some
circumstances, will bring them up excellently well, especially if
the parents co-operate by exercising a wise control over them. The
greater-born ladies and gentlemen, as they are to enjoy the benefit
of this education most, so they have the best means of prosecuting
it, being able to secure the best teachers, and not being limited
in time. And so I take my leave of young maidens and gentlewomen,
to whom I wish as well as I have said well of them.
The Education of Young Gentlemen.
Under my last heading I set forth at large how young maidens were
to be advanced in learning according to their rank, which methought
was very incident to my purpose, because they are counterbranches
to us as mortal and reasonable creatures, and also because they
are always our mates, and may sometimes, according to law and
birth, be our mistresses. Now, considering that they are always
closely connected with us, and sometimes exceed us in dignity of
position, as they share with us all qualities, and all honours
even up to the sceptre, why should they not also share in our
training and education, so that they may perform well the part
which they have to play, whether it be in a position of equality
with us, or sovereignity above us? Here now ensueth another
question of great importance in regard to the kind of people who
are to be dealt with, the question of a class whose position is
always in the superlative, and of whom great things are expected,
though sometimes by their own fault they forfeit their chances,
and hand them over to others whom nature ennobles through their
inborn virtues--I mean young gentlemen of all ranks up to the crown
itself. It is the custom among those of good birth to prefer to
have their sons educated privately at home rather than at school.
This is reasonable enough for maidens because of their sex, but
young gentlemen should be educated publicly, that they may have the
benefit of mixing with others, as has been the custom in all the
best ordered commonwealths, and has been recommended by all the
most learned writers, even in the case of princes.
Private and Public Education.
What is the import of these two words ‘private education’?
_Private_ is that which hath respect in all circumstances to some
particular case; _public_ in all circumstances regardeth every
one alike. _Education_ is the bringing up of one, not to live
alone, but amongst others, because company is our natural medium;
whereby he shall be best able to perform all those functions in
life which his position shall require, whether public or private,
in the interest of his country in which he was born, and to which
he owes his whole service. All these functions are in reality
public, and concern everyone, even when they seem most private,
because individual ends must be adjusted to wider social ends;
and yet people give the preference to private education where
all the circumstances are peculiar to one learner; as if he who
was brought up alone were always to live alone, or as if one
should say, ‘I will have you to deal with all, but never to see
all; your end shall be public, but your means shall be private.’
How can education be private? It is an abuse of the name as well
as of the thing. This isolation, for a pretended advantage in
education, of those who must afterwards pass on together, is
very mischievous, as it allows every parent to follow out his
own whims, relying on the privacy of his own house to be free
from criticism, on the subserviency of the teacher whom he may
choose to suit his own purposes, and on the submission of his
child who is bound to obey him on pain of meeting his displeasure.
In public schools such swerving from what is generally approved
is impossible. The master is always in the public eye, what he
teaches is known to all; the child is not alone, and he learns
only what has been submitted to the judgment of the community.
Whatever inconveniences may be inseparable from schools, still
greater arise in private education. It puffs up the recluse with
pride; it is an enemy to sympathy between those who have unequal
opportunities; it fosters self-conceit in the absence of comparison
with others; it encourages contempt in the superior, and envy
in the inferior. This kind of education which soweth the seed
of dissension by discovering differences, where the fruits of a
common upbringing should be seen in the firm knitting of social
bonds, should be discouraged owing to its effect in instilling
the poison of spite. Certainly the thing doth naturally tend this
way, though its influence may be often interrupted in time by the
pressure of public opinion. But if the child turn out better then I
have forecast, and show himself courteous, it will be due to his
natural goodness, or to his experience outside, not to the kind of
education which brings no such courtesy, though the child may see
it in his parents, and read of it in his books. Sometimes it maketh
him too sheepishly bashful when he comes to the light, owing to
his being unaccustomed to company. More commonly, however, he is
too childishly bold through noting nothing except what he breeds
in his own mind in his solitary training, where he thinks only of
himself, and has none to control him, not even his master, whatever
show there may be of obedience to authority in this private
cloistering. Surely it is reasonable for one in his childhood to
become acquainted with other children, seeing he has to live with
them as men in his manhood. Is it good for the ordinary man to be
brought up on a well-regulated public system, and not good for the
man of higher position? By ‘private’ I do not mean what is done
at home for public uses--in that case almost everything might be
called private--but what is kept at home by preference, in order
to serve the better the interest of a particular individual. It
would seem to be generally a question not of the matter or the
method of education, but of the select privacy of the place where
it is given. I must beg leave to say that the results are in favour
of public training, which from the midst of mediocrity brings up
scholars of such excellence that they take a worthy place in all
ranks, even next to the highest, whereas private education with all
its advantages of wealth, doth rarely show anything in learning
and judgment above bare mediocrity. There is no comparison between
the two kinds, if prejudice be set aside. If the privately-taught
pupil chance to come to speak, it mostly falleth out dreamingly,
because seclusion in education is a punishment to the tongue;
and in teaching a language to exclude companions to speak to, is
like seeking to quench thirst, yet closing the mouth so that no
moisture can get in. If such a pupil come to write, it is lean,
and nothing but skin, betraying the great pains the master hath
had to take, in default of any helping circumstances through the
pupil’s intercourse with companions. The boy can but repeat what he
hears, and he hears only one person who, though he knew everything,
cannot say much, for he hath no sufficient audience to provoke
him to utterance. If the master made an effort to deliver himself
of anything weighty, methinks an unobserved listener would hear a
strange discourse, and would find the boy asleep; or, if he had a
companion, playing with his hands or feet under the table, with one
eye on his talking master and the other on his playmate.
But why is private education so much in vogue? There may be some
excuse for those of very high position, especially for the prince
himself, who standing alone, cannot well mix with his subjects,
and must do what he can to surpass them without this advantage.
Yet if even the greatest could have his education so arranged that
he might have the company of a good choice number, wherein to see
all the differences of capacity and learn to judge of all, as he
hath afterwards to deal with all, would it be any sacrilege? But
why do the gentry in this respect rather ape their superiors in
rank, than follow the class below, who are really liker to them,
and who form the chief supporters of the State? To have the child
learn better manners and have more virtuous surroundings! As bad
at home as outside; evil manners are brought into school, not bred
there. To avoid the distraction of large numbers? The child shall
notice the more, and so prove the wiser, the multitude of examples
offering the means of sound judgment. Nay, in a number, though he
find some undesirable, whom he should avoid, he shall find many
apt and industrious, whom to follow. In school, moreover, he shall
perceive that vice is punished, and virtue praised, as needs must
where all is done in the public view. Is it to keep the child in
health by making him bide at home, for fear of infection outside?
Death is within doors also, and dainties at home have destroyed
more children than dangers outside. Is it from affection, because
ye cannot bear to let the child out of your presence? That is too
foolish. Emulation is a great inspirer of virtue. If your child do
well at home alone, how much better would he do with company? It
quickens the spirits, and enlivens the whole nature, to have to
compete with others--to have perhaps one companion ahead of him to
follow and learn from, another below him to teach and vaunt over,
and a third of his own standing with whom to strive for praise of
forwardness.
To sum up this question, I do take public education to be better
than private, as being more upon the stage, where faults are more
readily seen and so are sooner amended, and as being the best means
of acquiring both virtue and learning, which flourish according
to their first planting. What virtue is private? Wisdom, to
foresee what is good for a desert? Courage, to defend where there
is no assailant? Temperance, to be modest where there is none to
challenge? Justice, to do right when there is none to demand it?
What should a Gentleman learn?
As for the education of gentlemen, at what age shall I suggest
that they should begin to learn? Their minds are the same as
those of the common people, and their bodies are often worse. The
same considerations in regard to time must apply to all ranks.
What should they learn? I know of nothing else, nor can I suggest
anything better, than what I have already suggested for all. Only
young gentlemen must have some special studies that will help them
to govern under their prince in positions of trust. They should
have always before them the virtues that belong to the government
of others, and to the wise direction of their own conduct. However,
the general matter of duty being taught to all, each one may apply
it to his own particular case, without the need for any special
reference outside the ordinary school course, especially seeing
that the duties of government just as often fall into the hands of
those of lower rank whose virtue and capacity win them promotion.
What exercises shall young gentlemen have? The very same as other
children. What masters? The same. What difference of arrangements?
All one and the same, except where private education is preferred,
though, as I have said, they are none the better for the want
of good fellowship. And if they are as well taught and as well
exercised as should follow from the general plan laid down for all
young children, they shall have no cause to complain of public
education. For it is no mean stuff which is provided even for the
meanest to be stored with.
The children of gentlemen have great advantages, which they may
thank God for; they can carry on their education to the end,
whereas those of the humbler class have to give it up sooner, and
they have many opportunities which are denied to ordinary learners.
If they fail to use these advantages aright they are all the more
to blame, just as the greater credit is due to those who in spite
of hindrances make such advancement that they win the preferments
forfeited by the negligence of those to whom they naturally belong.
As for rich men, who not being of gentle birth, but growing to
wealth by some means or other, imitate gentlemen in the education
of their children, as if money made equality, and the purse were
the ground of preferment, without any other consideration, who
contemn the lower ranks from which they sprang, and cloister up
their children as a support to their position, they are in the
same case as regards freedom of choice, but far behind in true
gentility. As they were of lower condition themselves, they might
with more acceptance continue their children in the same kind of
training which brought up the parents and made them so wealthy,
and not try to push themselves into a rank too far beyond their
humble origin. For of all the means to make a gentleman, money is
the most vile. All other means have some sign of virtue, but this
is too bad to mate either with high birth, or with great worth. For
to become a gentleman is to bear the cognisance of virtue, to which
honour is companion; the vilest devices are the readiest means to
become most wealthy and ought not to look honour in the face. It
may be pretended that intelligence and capacity have enabled them
to make their way, but it is not denied that these qualities may be
turned to the worst uses, may only once in a thousand times make
a gentleman. It is not intelligence that deserves praise, but the
matter to which it has been directed, and the manner in which it
has been employed. When it is bestowed wisely on the good of the
community, it deserveth all praise; if devoted wholly to filling
a private purse, without regard to the means, so long as nothing
evil is disclosed, then it deserveth no praise for the result,
but rather suspicion as to the method of bringing it about. These
people in their business will not scruple to bring poverty to
thousands, and for giving a penny to one of these thousands they
will be accounted charitable. They will give a scholar some pretty
exhibition, in order to seem religious, and under a slender veil of
counterfeit liberality will hide the spoil of ransacked poverty.
And though they do not profess to be impoverishing people of set
purpose, yet their kind of dealing doth pierce as it passeth.
But of these kind of folks I intend not to speak. My purpose is to
employ my pains upon such as are gentlemen indeed. Yet it is worth
that gives name and note to nobility; it is virtue that must endow
it, or vice will undo it. As I wish well to this class, so I wish
their education to be good, and if it were possible, even better
than that of ordinary people. But that cannot be, for the common
training, if it be well appointed, is the best and fittest for
them, especially as they may have it in full, while those of meaner
rank have to be content with it incomplete.
What makes a Gentleman.
Before I enter upon the training of gentlemen and show what is
specially suitable for them, I will examine those points which
are best got by good education, and being once got do adorn them
most, which two considerations are not foreign to my purpose. I
must first ask what it is to be a gentleman or a nobleman, and what
qualities these terms assume to be present in the persons of those
to whom they are applied, and afterwards, what are the causes and
uses of gentility, and the reasons why it is so highly thought of.
But ere I begin to deal with any of these points, once for all I
must recommend to those of gentle birth exercise of the body, and
chiefly such kinds as besides benefiting their health shall best
serve their calling and place in their country. Just as those
qualities which I have set forth for the general training, being
most easily compassed in their perfection by them, may very well
beseem a gentlemanly mind, so may the physical exercises without
exception be found useful, either to make a healthy body, seeing
that our constitution is all the same, or to prepare them for such
occupations as belong to their position. Is it not for a gentleman
to follow the chase and to hunt? Doth their place reprove them if
they have skill to dance? Is skill in sitting a horse no honour
at home, no help abroad? Is the use of a weapon suitable to their
calling any blemish to them? Indeed those great exercises are most
proper to such persons and are not for those of meaner rank.
What is it then to be a nobleman or a gentleman? The people of this
country are either gentlemen or of the commonalty. The latter is
divided into those who are engaged in trade, and those who work
with their hands. Their distinction is by wealth, for some of them,
who have enough and more, are called rich men, some who have no
more than enough, poor men, and some who have less than enough,
beggars. There are also three ranks in gentility, the gentlemen,
who are the cream of the common people, the noblemen, who are the
flower of gentility, and the prince, who is the primate and pearl
of nobility. Their difference is in authority, the prince having
most, the nobleman coming next, and the gentlemen under both. To
be virtuous or vicious, to be rich or poor, are no peculiar badge
of either kind; a gentleman or a common man may alike be virtuous
or vicious, rich or poor, with land or without it. But as the
gentleman in any position must have the power of exercising his
lawful authority there are some virtues that seem to belong to him
specially, such as wisdom in policy, valour in execution, justice
in forming decisions, modesty in demeanour. Whether gentility come
by descent or desert makes no difference; he that giveth fame to
his family first, or he that deserveth such honour, or he that adds
to his heritage by noble means, is the man whom I mean. He that
continueth what he received through descent from his ancestry, by
desert in his own person, hath much to thank God for, and doth
well deserve double honour among men, as bearing the true coat of
arms of the best nobility, when desert for virtue is quartered
with descent in blood, seeing that ancient lineage and inheritance
of nobility are in such credit among us, and always have been.
As gentility argueth a courteous, civil, well-disposed, sociable
constitution of mind in a superior degree, so doth nobility imply
all these and much more, in a higher rank with greater authority.
And do not these distinctive qualities deserve help by good and
virtuous education?
Learning useful to Noblemen.
Excellent wisdom, which is the means of advancing grave and politic
counsellors, is but a single cause of preferment; likewise valour,
which is the means of making a noble and gallant captain, is but a
single cause of advancement; but where these two qualities, wisdom
and courage, are combined in the same man, the merit is doubled.
The means of preferment which depend upon learning are either
martial, for war and defence in relation to foreign countries, or
political, for peace and tranquillity at home. The warrior seems to
depend most on his personal courage and experience, which without
any learning or reading at all, have often brought forth excellent
leaders, but with those helps in addition produce most rare and
famous generals. Those who use the pen most in taking part in the
direction of public government, or in filling the necessary offices
in the administrative or judicial service of the State, for the
common peace and quietness, without profession of further learning,
though they have their chief instrument of credit from books, are
not debtors to book-knowledge only, because industry, experience,
and discretion have much to do with their success. It is those who
depend wholly upon learning that I am most concerned with, when I
ask how gentlemen should be trained to have them learned.
The highest position to which learned valour doth give advancement,
is that of a wise counsellor, the fruit of whose learning
is policy, not in the limited sense where it is opposed to
straightforwardness, but in the philosophical sense, as meaning
the general skill to judge things rightly, to see them in their
due proportions, to adapt them to any given circumstances, with as
little disturbance as possible to existing arrangements, whether it
be in matters religious or secular, public or private, professional
or industrial. Such a man is, in the sphere of religion, a _divine_
who is able to judge soundly of the general principles and
applications of divinity; in the sphere of government, a _lawyer_
who makes the laws in the first instance, and knows best how to
have them kept; in short he is the man, whether he be concerned
with ecclesiastical or temporal affairs, and whatever his rank or
his profession may be, who is most sound and able, and sufficient
in all points. And though the specialist may know more than he in
any particular matter which he has not leisure to get up thoroughly
himself, yet he will be able to make such skilful and methodical
enquiries of the special student that he will probe his knowledge
to the bottom, and then handle the material he gains to better
purpose than the other could with all his scholarship. Of all those
that depend upon learning I hold this kind of man worthiest to be
preferred, in divinity a chief among divines, though he do not
preach, in law, the first of lawyers, though he do not plead, and
similarly in all the other departments of public direction. But
wherefore is all this? To show how necessary a thing it is to have
young gentlemen well brought up. For if these causes do make the
man of mean birth noble, what will they do in him whose honour is
augmented with perpetual increase, if he add personal worth to his
nobility in blood? Wherefore the necessity of the training being
evidently so great, I will handle that as well as I can, by way
of general precept, with reference to those whose wisdom is their
weight, learning their line, justice their balance, honour their
armour, and all the different virtues their greatest ornaments in
the eyes of all men.
Course of Study for a Gentleman.
As I have already said, I know no better training for the gentleman
than that which is provided under proper conditions for the
ordinary man; but while the latter learns first for necessity,
and afterwards for advancement, the greater personage ought to
study for his credit and honour as well. For which be gentlemanly
accomplishments, if these be not--to read, to write, to draw, to
sing, to play, to have language and learning, health and activity,
nay, even to profess Divinity, Law, Medicine, or any other worthy
occupation? These things a gentleman hath most leisure to acquire,
and not being too much under the spur of necessity he can practise
them with uprightness. These so-called “liberal” professions are
too commonly now in the hands of meaner men, who make a trade
of their high calling, and only seek to enrich themselves. Doth
Divinity teach to scrape, or Law to scratch, or any other kind of
learning to which the epithet “liberal” is applied? The practice
of these callings crieth for help to ransom it from the pressure
of selfish needs to which it hath fallen a prey, owing to the
indifference of the nobility, who think anything far more seemly to
bestow their time and wealth upon than the learned professions. But
if young gentlemen of parts would be pleased to be so well affected
toward their country as to shoulder out mercenary professional
men by themselves taking their places, how fortunate it would
be for the country, and for the young gentlemen as well! Enough
might be spared for such employment without unduly lessening the
numbers that fill the court and carry on military and judicial
functions only too abundantly. If the warlike gentlemen betook
themselves to arms and paid more attention to exercise, and if the
more peacefully-inclined took their books and fell to learning,
recalling by diligence those faculties which they have for so long
allowed to run waste, should not the change be welcomed? This were
better than vain foppery and travelling about.
Foreign Travel.
What is this travelling? I do not ask in regard to merchants,
whom necessity obliges to travel and to tarry long from home
for the sake of their own trade and often of our benefit, nor
in regard to soldiers, who when there is peace at home must go
abroad to learn in foreign wars how to defend their country when
it is necessary. Nor do I refer to such travellers as Solon, or
Pythagoras, or Plato, who sought knowledge where it was, in order
to bring it where it was not. We have no need to travel in search
of learning as they did. We have at this day, thanks to printing,
as much of that as any country needs to have,--nay, as much as
the ancient world ever possessed, if we would use it aright. And
young gentlemen, if they made the best use of their wealth, might
procure and maintain such excellent masters and companions and
libraries, that they might acquire all the best learning far better
by studying quietly at home than by stirring about, if the desire
for knowledge were the cause of their travelling. And this excuse
is made even by people of meaner rank, who love to look abroad for
instruction that they could get quite well at home from competent
persons who never crossed the seas. If there be defects in our own
country, they can be remedied out of our own resources by giving
good heed to the matter, without the need of borrowing from other
lands. What, then, is travel, interrupting education as it does,
and raising the question whether young gentlemen in choosing it
are benefiting their country and themselves? To travel is to see
countries abroad, to mark their singularities, to learn their
languages, and to return thence with an equipment of wisdom that
will serve the needs of one’s own country.
There may be some who gain all these advantages from travel; but
for one whose natural excellence and virtue will turn such a
hazardous experience to profit, there are many to whom it will
prove pernicious, owing to their impetuous temper and their command
of money beyond the discretion of their years. And while these are
engaged in travel, what might they have been acquiring at home?
Sounder learning, the same study of language, and, above all, the
love of their native land, which groweth by familiarity, but is
mightily impaired by absence and an acquired fancy for foreign
customs.
What is the natural end of being born in a particular country? To
serve one’s fatherland. With foreign fashions? They will not fit.
For every country has its own appropriate laws and arrangements,
and its special circumstances can be understood only by those
who study its constitution carefully on the spot. What is quite
suitable and excellent for other nations may not bear transplanting
here; it may not fit in with the habits of our people, or at least
the change might require so much effort that it would not be worth
the cost. I do not deny that travel is good, if it hits on the
right person; though I think the same labour, with equally good
intentions, could be spent with better results at home. He that
roameth abroad hath no such line to lead him as he that tarrieth at
home, unless his understanding, years and experience offer better
security than is the case with those of whom I am now speaking.
Foreign things fit us not; or, if they fit our backs, at least
they do not fit our brains, unless there be something amiss there.
If we wish to learn from other countries, it is better to summon
a foreign master to us than to go abroad as foreign scholars
ourselves.
Our ladies at home can acquire all the accomplishments of these
travelled gentlemen without stirring abroad, for it is not what
one has seen that is of value, but the languages and learning that
are brought back, and these are to be found at home. Our lady
mistress, whom I must needs remember when excellence is being
spoken of, a woman, a gentlewoman, a lady, a princess, in the midst
of many other affairs of business, in spite of her sex and sundry
impediments to a free mind such as learning requireth, can do
all these things to the wonder of all hearers, which I say young
gentlemen can learn better at home, as Her Majesty did. It may be
said that Her Majesty is not to be used as a precedent, seeing
she is of a princely courage that would not be overthrown by any
difficulty in learning what might advance her person beyond all
praise, and help her position beyond expectation. But yet it may
be said, why may not young gentlemen, who can allege no obstacle,
obtain with more liberty what Her Highness got with so little? It
is having as much money as they like that eggs them on to wander.
If they went abroad as ambassadors to acquire experience through
dealing with great affairs, or if they were well known as learned
men to whom important information would everywhere naturally be
offered, or if they even went in the train of the former, or under
the tuition of the latter, so that authority might secure benefits
for them and preserve them from harm, I would not disapprove of
it, as they might then learn to follow in the footsteps of their
leaders. But this is a very different matter from the pursuit of
those special ends that could be better attained at home. For good,
simple, well-meaning young gentlemen, strong in purse and weak in
years, to travel at a venture in places where there is danger to
health, to life, to conduct, far from the chances of succour and
rescue--the thought is so repugnant to me that I know not what to
say.
Gentlemen should take up the Professions.
I do wish then that well-disposed young gentlemen would be pleased
to betake themselves betimes to some kind of learning that is
indeed liberal, seeing that their circumstances protect them
from interested motives, and enable them to serve their country
honourably. Instead of all becoming lawyers or court officials,
why do not some of them choose to be divines, or physicians, or
to take up some other learned profession? Any gentleman in our
country who is now so qualified is esteemed and honoured above all
others of his calling, and indeed gets some honour even if he is
not particularly well qualified. Are not these professions to be
reverenced for their subject-matter and for their influence? And
are they not therefore proper for the nobility? I do not hold the
conduct of barbarous invasions to be the true field of activity
for the nobility; they should be for the most part peaceful,
and warlike only for defence if the country be assailed, or for
attack if previous wrongs are to be avenged. Nor do I take wealth
to be any worthy cause of honour to the owner, unless it be both
got by laudable means and employed in commendable ways, nor any
quality or gift that adorns the body, unless it serves a good
purpose, nor any endowment of the mind which is not exercised in
conformity with reason and wisdom. Such gifts are demanded in the
callings I have named as worthy of the nobility. Who dare think
lightly of divinity in itself? There is more hesitation now about
adopting it as a profession than formerly, when the emoluments
were greater, and the dignity more generally recognised, but the
position grows better again, and a good gentleman may find in it
the honour which he seeks. As for medicine, if gentlemen will not
study and practise it, they must pay the penalty of ignorance, as
they will suffer in their own bodies as well as in their pockets by
leaving the profession to those of meaner rank, whose attendance
is often rather flattering and fawning than intelligent services.
This caution, however, young gentlemen must bear in mind, that
it were a great deal better they had no learning at all and knew
their own ignorance, than a mere smattering, incomplete of its
kind, and insecurely held in their minds. For their acknowledged
ignorance harms only themselves, as others more skilful may
supply their places, but unripe learning puffeth them up, and
their rank encourages them to be superficial, either in not
digesting what they have read, or in not reading sufficiently, or
in doing desultory work, or presuming on their station to defend
ill-considered notions. To conclude, I wish young gentlemen to be
better than ordinary men in the best kind of learning, as they have
ampler opportunities of acquiring it and turning it to good account
for the benefit of their country and their own honour.
The Training of a Prince.
As a child, the greatest prince may be, like other children, in
soul either fine or gross, in body either strong or weak, in form
either well-developed or ill, so that in regard to the time for
beginning to learn and the proper course of study, he is no less
subject to the general laws already laid down than his subjects
are. We must take him as God sends him, for we cannot choose as we
would wish, just as he must make the best of his people, though
his people be not the best. When the young prince’s elementary
education is past, and there is more scope for reading, care must
be taken to choose such matter as may recommend humility as well
as afford adequate knowledge, so that competence in affairs may be
supported by the gift of courteous persuasion. Intercourse with
foreign ambassadors, and conference with his own counsellors,
require both a knowledge of tongues and a knowledge of the matters
that come under discussion. And as he governeth his State by
means of his two arms, the ecclesiastical, which preserves and
purifies religion, the main support of voluntary obedience, and
the political, which by maintaining the civil government doth keep
order and diffuse well-being, if he lack knowledge to use his arms
aright, is he not more than lame? And is not his best help to be
found in learning? Martial skill is needful, but only for defence,
because a stirring prince, always ready to make aggression, is a
plague to his people and a punishment to himself, and even when
he seems to gain most, is only getting what he or his descendants
must some day lose again with perhaps something in addition.
But religious knowledge is far more important, being specially
necessary for a prince, inasmuch as he hath none but God to fear.
Almighty God be thanked who hath at this day lent us a Princess
who indeed feareth Him, and who therefore, deserving to be loved,
desires not to be feared by us. I pray God long to preserve her
whose good education doth teach us what education can do, and
I have good cause to rejoice that this work of mine concerning
education is given forth in her time.
Boarding Schools.
I turn to the question whether it is better for a child to board
with his master or elsewhere, or to come from home daily to school.
If the place where the parents dwell be near the school, or only
so far off that the very walk may be for the boy’s health, and if
the parent himself be careful and wise to be as good a furtherer
in the training of his own child as he is a father to its being,
then certainly the parent’s home is much better, if for nothing
else, yet because the parent can more easily at all times look
after the interests of his own, having only one or a few, than the
schoolmaster can after his ordinary duties are over, especially as
he will have to divide his attention among many. Further, all the
considerations which persuade people rather to have their children
taught at home than along with others outside, especially with
regard to their manners and behaviour, form arguments for their at
least _boarding_ at home, if the parents will take their position
seriously, because the parent can both see to the upbringing of the
child outside school and interest himself in the work done by the
child _in_ school. For undoubtedly the masters are wearied with
working all day, so that the individual help they can give in their
homes in the evening can be but little, without at once tiring the
master unduly and dulling the child, if he is always poring over
his books. There must be times for recreation if anything is to be
well done continuously. Can anyone help thinking that it is a great
deal more than enough for the master to teach, and the scholar
to learn, daily from 6 in the morning till 11, and from 1 in the
afternoon till wellnigh 6 at night, if the time is to be really
well applied--nay, even if the hours were a great deal fewer? And
may not the rest of the day be reasonably spent in some recreation
that offers a pleasant variety to both parties? In the master’s
home I grant children may keep school hours better, and be less
liable to idleness and truancy; the master also may keep them
better under his eye in his general teaching when they are wholly
under his care in place of his own children, may arrange their
hours better according to the subjects they are studying, and may
sooner be able to discover their special talents and inclinations.
There are also certain private considerations that have weight with
parents in sending their children to board away from home, which I
leave to their private thoughts, as I reserve some to my own. If
the master have charge only of the scholars who board with him,
and can himself do all that is necessary for the best education,
and the numbers be moderate enough to allow of considerable
progress, then I know of no more favourable circumstances, if the
size, situation, and convenience of his house, and other necessary
conditions are all suitable. But while he is thinking only of his
boarders’ advancement, some slow-paying parents will be sure to
keep him lean, if he look not well to it, and his fortunes will not
flourish, or at least the risks will cause him continual anxiety.
Parents have a different eye to their children’s comfort when they
are at a boarding-school, and are ready to complain of many things
that are made of no account at home. And if sickness or death
should come, the worst construction is put upon it, as if death
did not know where the parent dwells. And though the master should
have done not only what he was formally bound to do, but even more
than he could have done for his own child, yet all that is nothing.
Wherefore, as parents must think of the objection on their side
to sending out their children to board, so masters on their part
must beware of admitting them to their own injury. Indeed, my own
opinion is that it is quite enough for a master to undertake
the education alone. If parents do not live near enough to the
school, they should board their children elsewhere than with the
master. They are distinct offices, to be a parent and a teacher,
and the difficulties of upbringing are too serious for all the
responsibilities to be thrown into the hands of one alone.
School Buildings.
Of the places of elementary education there is not much to say,
as the masters supply rooms as large as they can, considering the
fees that the parents are willing to pay, and the little people
who attend these schools are not as yet capable of any great
exercise. The Grammar Schools require more attention, because the
years that are, or at least ought to be, spent there are the most
important both for developing the body and for framing the mind
and character. Here the pupils are most subject to the master’s
direction, and provision is made for them not only out of the
parents’ resources, but also from public endowment, so far as the
buildings are concerned. As the elementary schools must be near the
parents’ homes on account of the youth of the scholars, they must
often be in the middle of cities and towns, but I could wish that
the Grammar Schools were planted in the outskirts and suburbs, near
to the fields, where partly by enclosing some private ground for
regular exercises both in the open and under cover, and partly by
utilising the open fields for rambles of wider range, there might
be little or no feeling of restriction in the matter of space.
There should be a good airy schoolroom above for the languages, and
another below for others studies and for continuing and completing
the elementary training, which will not be well enough kept up if
it is left to private practice at home. There must also be suitable
accommodation for the master and his family, even if they be pretty
numerous, and there should be a convenient play-ground adjoining
the school, walled round and having at least a quarter of the space
covered over like a cloister, for the children’s exercise in rainy
weather. All this will require no mean purse, but surely there is
wealth enough in private possession, if there were will enough to
endow public education. Yet we have no great cause to complain in
regard to the number of schools and founders, for already during
the time of Her Majesty’s most fortunate reign there have been
more schools erected than existed before her time in the whole
kingdom. I would rather have fewer and have them better appointed
for the master’s accommodation and for general convenience. A
small amount of help will make most of our rooms serve, and enable
our teachers to give instruction and carry on the exercises under
satisfactory conditions. The places for study and for exercise
ought to adjoin each other, and be capable of holding considerable
numbers, to be determined by the needs of the surrounding district.
The schools that I know are mostly well placed already, or if they
are in the heart of towns, they could be easily exchanged for some
country situation, far from disturbances yet near enough to all
necessary conveniences. It would be a very useful part of a great
and good foundation if it provided for the removal of rooms to
more suitable places, either by exchange or by new purchase, and
I think licence would more readily be granted for this purpose
than to build new schools. I am all the more impelled to recommend
a country situation on account of the inconveniences that I have
myself experienced, both in regard to my own health and that of
my scholars, and the lack of facilities for the exercises on which
I lay so much store. Yet I am by no means the worst off in this
respect, owing to the zeal and generosity shown in the provision
made by the Worshipful Company of Merchant Taylors in London, in
whose school I have now served for twenty years, the first and
only headmaster since its foundation. If ye consider what is to
be done in these rooms which I desire, ye shall better judge what
rooms will serve. Two rooms will be sufficient for the language
study and the continuation of the elementary course, an upper
room with proper arrangements for ventilation and the prevention
of too much noise, and another similarly fitted up underneath to
serve for what else is to be done. I could wish that we had fewer
schools and that they were more efficient; it would be well if on
careful consideration of the most convenient centres throughout
the country, many of the existing schools could be put together to
make a few good ones. To conclude this matter, I wish the rooms to
be commodious, for though such studies as reading require small
elbow-room, writing and drawing must not be straitened, nor music
either, and physical exercises especially must have ample scope.
And such rooms, if the numbers are not too large, if the distance
is not too great for the young children, will with some distinction
and separation of places serve conveniently both for the elementary
school and the grammar school, which is so much the better.
Best Hours for Study.
I think it is not good to begin study immediately after rising, or
just after meals, or to continue right up to the time of going to
bed. From 7 to 10 in the forenoon, and from 2 till almost 5 in the
afternoon are the most fitting hours, and quite enough for children
to be learning. The morning hours will serve best for memory work
and what requires mental effort; the afternoon for going over again
the material that has been already acquired. The other times before
meals are for exercise. The hours after meals and before study is
resumed, are to be given to resting the body and refreshing the
mind, without too much movement. To conclude, we must make the best
of those places and hours that are at present appointed, and yet be
prepared to adopt better arrangements, as soon as it shall please
God to send them. And by persuasion some teachers may be able to
bring wise parents to try changes in the direction I have pointed
out. In the meantime some excellent man, having the advantage of a
well-situated house, and being independent of outside help and able
to control his own arrangements, may be prepared to make useful
experiments.
Elementary Teacher most Important.
The Elementary school is left to the lowest and the worst class of
teacher, because good scholars will not abase themselves to it. The
first grounding should be undertaken by the best teacher, and his
reward should be the greatest, because his work demands most energy
and most judgment, and competent men could easily be induced to
enter these lower ranks if they found that sufficient reward were
offered. It is natural enough for ignorant people to make little
of the early training, when they see how little consideration is
paid to it, but men of judgment know how important the foundation
is, not only as regards the matter that is taught, but the manner
of handling the child’s intelligence, which is of great moment.
But to say something concerning the teacher’s reward, which is the
encouragement to good teaching, what is the sense in increasing the
salary as the child grows in learning? Is it to cause the master to
take greater pains, and bring his pupil better forward in view of
the promise of what is to come? Nay, surely that cannot be. Present
payment would be a greater inducement to bring pupils forward than
the hope in promise, for in view of the variety and inconstancy
of parents’ minds, what assurance is there that the child will
continue with the same master? That he who took great pains for
little gain should receive more for less trouble? Besides, if the
reward were good he would hasten to gain more through the supply
of new scholars, who would be attracted by the report of his
diligent and successful work. As things are, the master who gets
the pupils later reaps the benefit of the elementary teacher’s
labour, because the child makes more show with him. Why should this
be so? It is the foundation well and soundly laid that makes all
the upper building secure and lasting. I can only give counsel,
but if the decision lay with me the first pains well taken should
in truth be most liberally recompensed, and the emolument should
diminish, as less pains are needed in going up through the school
course. By this method no master would have reason to complain that
the pupils who come to him have not been sufficiently grounded in
the elementary subjects, which is a constant source of trouble
at present both to teachers and scholars. Indeed too often we
Grammar School masters can hardly make any progress, can scarcely
even tell how to place the raw boys in any particular form with
any hope of steady advance, so rotten is the groundwork of their
preparation. If the higher master has to repair this weakness,
after the boy comes under his charge, he certainly deserves
triple salary, both for his own making and for mending what the
elementary teacher either marred through ignorance, or failed to
make through undue haste, which, in my opinion, is the commonest
and worst kind of marring. As for the salaries of the masters that
succeed the elementary, I hold that the increasing numbers that
they can undertake will make up for the larger amount to be given
to the elementary teacher, however much that may be. For the first
master can deal only with a few, the next with more, and so on,
ascending as the scholars grow in reason and discretion. To deal
with the unequal advancement of children, it were good that they
were promoted in numbers together, and that they were admitted into
the schools only at four periods in the year, so that they might be
properly classified, and not hurled hand over head into one form
without discrimination, as is now too often the case. There should
be a definite plan of promotion agreed upon among the teachers,
so that one can say, “This child I have taught, and such and such
can he do,” and the other knoweth what the child should have
been taught, and what he may be supposed to know. The elementary
teacher, then, should be competent for his task, and when he is, he
should be sufficiently well provided for by the parents. Adequate
reward would make very able men incline to take it up, and though
the supply may as yet be insufficient, enough could soon be trained
if inducement were offered.
The Grammar School Teacher.
My chief concern must be with the master of the Grammar School, who
cannot be too carefully selected, for he has to deal with those
years which determine the success of all the future course, as
during this period both body and mind are most restless and most in
need of regulation. He has to complete the learning gained in the
elementary studies, and he offers hope or despair of perfection to
the University tutor in the case of their proceeding further.
For this class of teacher also I must ask for sufficient
maintenance in consideration of their competence and faithful
work. For it is a great discouragement to an able man to take
diligent pains when he finds his whole day’s work insufficient to
furnish him with the necessary provision. Experience hath taught
me that where the master’s salary is made to rise and fall with
the numbers of his pupils, he will exert himself most, and the
children will profit most, provided he have no more than he can
manage himself without hazarding his own credit and the pupils’
welfare by trusting to independent assistants. The proper use of
assistants is not as we now see it in schools, where ushers are
their own masters, but to help the headmaster in the easier part
of his duties. If the master’s salary is fixed by agreement at a
definite sum, then he should not be given too large numbers to
deal with, nor should he be obliged to eke out his income in other
ways outside his profession. It is unreasonable to demand a man’s
whole time, and yet make such scant payment that he has to look
elsewhere, outside the school, to add to it. Among many causes
that make our schools inefficient, I know none so serious as the
weakness of the profession owing to the bareness of the reward. The
good that cometh by schools is infinite; the qualities required
in the teacher are many and great; the charges which his friends
have been at in his bringing up are heavy; yet he has but little
to hope for in the way of preferment. Our calling creeps low, and
has pain for a companion, always thrust to the wall, though always
formally admitted to be worthy. Our comfort must be in the general
conclusion that those are good things which want no praising,
though they go a-cold for lack of cherishing.
But ye will perhaps say--what shall this man be able to perform
whom you are so anxious to have suitably maintained, and to whose
charge the youth of our country is to be committed? Surely that
charge is great, and if he is to discharge it well, he must be well
qualified for it, and ought to be very well requited for doing it
so well. Besides his manner and behaviour, which must be beyond
cavil, and his skill in exercising the body, he must be able to
teach the three learned tongues, Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, if
these are required. And in these a mediocrity of knowledge is not
enough, for he who means to plant even a little well, must himself
far exceed mediocrity. He must be able to understand his author,
to correct misprints, the mistakes of unskilful dictionaries,
and the foolish comments of superficial writers on the matter he
is teaching, and he must be so well furnished before he begins
to teach that he can express himself readily, and not have to
be learning as he goes along, distracting his scholars by his
hesitations. Time and experience will do much to polish the manner
of teaching, but there must be knowledge of the matter from the
first. He must be acquainted with all the best grammars, so that
he can always add notes by the way, though not of course to the
burdening of the children’s memory. Besides these and other points
of learning, he must have determination to take pains, perseverance
to continue in his work without shrinking, discretion to judge
of circumstances, cheerfulness to delight in the success of his
labour, sympathy to encourage a promising youth, hopefulness to
think every child an Alexander, and courteous lowliness in his
opinion of himself. For even the smallest thing in learning will be
well done only by him who knows most, and by reason of his store of
knowledge is able to perform his task with pleasure and ease. These
qualities deserve much, and are not often found in our schools,
because the rewards of labour are so insufficient, but they would
soon be had if the maintenance were adequate.
The Training of Teachers.
If the rewards of the teaching profession were sufficient to
attract good students, the way to make them well fitted to deserve
these rewards would be to arrange for their being trained at the
Universities. I touch upon this matter with some hesitation, for
it would involve some changes that might not be easily compassed,
but if the very name of change is to be avoided, no improvements
could ever take place, and though my proposals may raise
objections at first, I believe that the more they are considered
the more they will commend themselves, as well to the University
authorities as to all others concerned. By the means I am about
to suggest, not only schoolmasters, but all other members of
the learned professions, would be better fitted on leaving the
University to perform what is expected of them in the service of
the commonwealth. I would have it understood that I have no great
fault to find with the present constitution of the Universities,
but granting that things are well done there already, there is
no discourtesy in wishing that they might be managed a good deal
better.
University Reform.
My idea rests on four points;
1st. What if the Colleges were divided into faculties according
to the professions for which they prepare?
2nd. What if students of similar age, who were studying for the
same profession, were all bestowed in one house?
3d. What if the College livings were made more valuable by
combination, and the Colleges strengthened by being lessened in
number?
4th. What if in every house there were valuable fellowships
for learned scholars who would remain their whole lives in the
position?
Would not the country benefit by these measures? And hath not the
State authority to carry them out, seeing that it hath already
given its sanction to the making of foundations, with a reservation
of the right to alter them if sufficient cause should be shown? Is
it not as admissible to discuss the improvement of the Universities
by planting sound learning, as to decide upon taking away lands
from colleges, and boarding out the students, because they cannot
agree among themselves about the use of the endowments? Would there
be any better means of giving a new and fairer aspect to the work
of the Universities, and of bringing them into greater favour with
the public? In the first erection of schools and colleges, private
zeal inflamed good founders; in altering these for the better, the
State, for considerations of public interest, may increase the
advantage, without departing from the intention of the founders,
who would have gladly welcomed any improvement. It is for each age
under the spur of necessity to point out what is best for its own
circumstances, and the State must exercise its wisdom and policy
in bringing this about. I will now take up more fully the four
points I have named, in the hope of offering reasons that may prove
convincing.
A College for Languages.
Would it not be convenient and profitable if there were one college
where nothing was professed but languages, to be thoroughly
acquired as a means to further study within the university, and
to public service outside? That being the professed end, and
nothing else being dealt with there, would not a high standard
of sufficiency be the better reached through general agreement?
And would not daily conference and continuous application in the
same subject be likely to secure efficiency? As it is now, when
everyone deals confessedly with everything, no one can say with
certainty, “Thus much can such a one do in this particular thing,”
but he either speaks by conjecture that may often deceive even the
speaker, or else out of courtesy which as often beguiles those
who hear and believe. For where all exercises, conferences, and
conversations, both public and private, are on the same subject,
because the soil bringeth forth no other stuff, there must needs
follow great perfection. When the tongues are thus separated from
other learning, it will soon appear what a difference there is
between him who can only speak and him who can do more. No subject
can be more necessary than languages in university training. For
the tongues being the receptacles of matter, without a perfect
understanding of them what hope is there of understanding
matter? And seeing words are the names of things, applied and
given according to their properties, how can things be properly
understood by us, who make use of words to know them by, unless the
force of speech is thoroughly understood? I do see in writers and
hear in speakers great defects in the mistaking of meanings, and
evident errors through insufficiency in the study of language. Such
study should be well advanced by the Grammar School, but it needs
to be brought to greater perfection than it can be there. And it
may be that some, wishing only a general culture, will be content
to rest in this literary faculty, taking delight in the writings of
the poets and historians, and not passing on to any professional
study.
A College for Mathematics.
I would have another college devoted to the Mathematical Sciences,
though I shall be opposed by some of good intelligence, who not
knowing the force of these faculties because they considered them
unworthy of study, as not leading to preferment, are accustomed to
mock at mathematical heads. Such studies require concentration, and
demand a type of mind that does not seek to make public display
until after mature contemplation in solitude. It is this silent
meditation on the part of the true students, or the appearance
of it in those that are but counterfeits, that layeth them open
to the mockery of some, who should rather forbear if they will
remember in what high esteem those sciences were held by Socrates,
and by Plato, who forbad anyone to enter his Academy that was
ignorant of Geometry. For the men who profess these sciences and
bring them into disrepute are either quite ignorant and maintain
their credit by the use of certain terms and technical expressions
without ever getting at the kernel, or they are such as having some
knowledge occupy themselves with the trivial and sophistical and
illusive parts of the subject, rather than with its true uses in
the advancement of the arts. But in spite of the contempt which is
thus often brought on the Mathematical Sciences, I will venture to
give my opinion in defence of their value. In time all learning may
be brought into one tongue, and that naturally understood by all,
so that schooling for tongues may prove needless, just as once they
were not needed; but it can never fall out that arts and sciences
in their essential nature shall be anything but most necessary for
every commonwealth that is not utterly barbarous. We attribute too
much to tongues, in paying more heed to them than we do to matter,
and esteem it more honourable to speak finely than to reason
wisely. After all, words are praised only for the time, but wisdom
wins in the end.
The Mathematical Sciences show themselves in many professions and
trades which do not bear the titles of learning, whereby it is
well seen that they are really profitable; they do not make much
outward show, but our daily life benefits greatly by them. It is no
just objection to ask, “What should merchants, carpenters, masons,
shipmasters, mariners, surveyors, architects, and other such do
with learning? Do they not serve the country’s needs well enough
without it?” Though they may do well without it, might they not
do better with it? The speaking of Latin is no necessary proof of
deeper learning, but Mathematics are the first rudiments for young
children, and the sure means of direction for all skilled workmen,
who without such knowledge can only go by rote, but with it might
reach genuine skill. The sciences that we term ‘mathematical’ from
their very nature always achieve something good, intelligible
even to the unlearned, by number, figure, sound, or motion. In
the manner of their teaching also they plant in the mind of the
learner a habit of resisting the influence of bare probabilities,
of refusing to believe in light conjectures, of being moved only
by infallible demonstrations. Mathematics had its place before the
tongues were taught, which though they are now necessary helps,
because we use foreign languages for the conveyance of knowledge,
yet push us one degree further off from knowledge.
A College for Philosophy.
The third college should be devoted to Philosophy in all its
three kinds, each of which forms a preparation for a particular
profession--Natural Philosophy for Medicine, Political Philosophy
for Law, and Moral Philosophy for Divinity. But in this
distribution some will ask, “Where do Logic and Rhetoric come
in?” I would ask in reply, “What is the place of Grammar?” It is
the preparative to language. In the same way, Logic on the side
of demonstration takes the part of Grammar for the Mathematical
Sciences and Natural Philosophy, and in its consideration of
probabilities fills the same place for Moral and Political
Philosophy. Rhetoric helps the writer to attain purity of style
without emotion, and the speaker to use persuasion with an appeal
to the feelings, though sometimes, indeed, the latter deals only
in argument, while the former may wax hot over his writing. As to
the proper order of these studies, we are accustomed to set young
students to Moral and Political Philosophy first, but we should
rather follow Aristotle in placing Natural Philosophy next to the
Mathematical Sciences, because it is more intelligible for young
heads on account of its deductive reasoning, whereas Moral and
Political Philosophy, being subject to particular circumstances in
life, should be reserved for riper years.
Professional Colleges.
The three professions above mentioned--Medicine, Law, and
Divinity--should each be endowed with its particular College and
livings, instead of having its students scattered. To have the
physician thus learned is not too much to ask, considering that his
proficiency depends on his knowledge, and with him ignorance is
simply butchery. As for Law, if the whole study were reduced into
one body, would our country have any cause to complain? Would she
not rather have great reason to be very glad? We have now three
several professions in Law, as if we were a three-headed State,
one English and French, another Roman Imperial, and the third
Roman Ecclesiastical, whereas English alone were simply best. The
distraction of temporal, civil, and canon law is in many ways very
injurious to our country. There can be no question that it is good
for the divine to have time to study the sciences that are the
handmaids to his profession.
General Study for Professional Men.
But is it advisable that those wishing to enter the professions
should have to go through all the colleges that offer a general
preparatory training,--the colleges for Languages, Mathematics,
and Philosophy? No one could doubt this, except such as are ready
to think themselves ripe, while they are still raw in the opinion
of other men. He that will be perfect in his profession ought at
least to have a contemplative knowledge of all that goes before.
It will be for the gain of the community that while the student’s
youth is wedded to honest and learned meditation, the heat of that
stirring age is cooled, which might set all on fire to the public
harm; ripe judgment is gained, and all ambitious passions are made
subject to self-control. Till young men who are coming forward to
the professions are made to tarry longer and study more soundly,
learning shall have no credit, and our country cannot but suffer.
It may be asked: “What hath a divine to do with Mathematics?” Well,
was not Moses trained in all the learning of the Egyptians? How can
the divine presume to judge and condemn sciences of which he knows
nothing but the name? And has not the lawyer to deal with many
questions that require a knowledge of the sciences? The physician
more than all should see that his professional skill is supported
by a wide general study.
A Training College for Teachers.
There will be some difficulty in winning a college for those who
will afterwards pass to teach in schools. There is no specialising
for any profession till the student leaves the College of
Philosophy, from which he will go to Medicine, Law, or Divinity.
This is the time also when the intending schoolmaster should begin
his special training. In him there is as much learning necessary
as, with all deference to their subjects, is required by any of
the other three professions, especially if it be considered how
much the teacher hath to do in preparing scholars for all other
careers. Why should not these men have this competence in learning,
to be chosen for the common service? Are children and schools so
small an element in our commonwealth? Is the framing of young minds
and the training of their bodies a matter of so little skill? Are
schoolmasters in this realm so few that they need not be taken
account of? Whoever will not allow of this careful provision for
such a seminary of teachers is most unworthy either to have had
a good master himself, or to have a good one hereafter for his
children. Why should not teachers be well provided for, so that
they can continue their whole life in the school, as divines,
lawyers, and physicians do in their several professions? If this
were the case, judgment, knowledge, and discretion would grow in
them as they get older, whereas now the school, being used but
for a shift, from which they will afterwards pass to some other
profession, though it may send out competent men to other careers,
remains itself far too bare of talent, considering the importance
of the work. I consider therefore that in our universities there
should be a special college for the training of teachers, inasmuch
as they are the instruments to make or mar the growing generation
of the country, and because the material of their studies is
comparable to that of the greatest professions, in respect of
language, judgment, skill in teaching, variety of learning, wherein
the forming of the mind and the exercising of the body require
the most careful consideration, to say nothing of the dignity of
character which should be expected from them.
Use of the Seven Colleges.
Surely there is nothing unreasonable in proposing that these seven
colleges should be set up, and should have the names of the things
they profess--Languages, Mathematics, Philosophy, Education,
Medicine, Law, and Divinity. If it had been so arranged from the
beginning, public opinion would now have commended the policy and
wisdom of those that originated it. And can we not bring about
still what, if it had been done at first, would have met with
such honour, and will deserve everlasting memory, at whatever
time it may be done? Greater changes have been both desired and
accomplished in our time. All that is needful for doing it well is
ready to our hand: the material is there; the lands have neither to
be begged nor purchased; they have already been acquired and given,
and can easily be brought into order, especially as this is a time
of reform. As for putting students of similar age and studies into
the same house, it is desirable on many grounds, but particularly
because it encourages emulation among those who are best fitted to
compete with each other.
Uniting of Colleges.
In saying that colleges should be combined, so as to permit the
bettering of students’ livings, I shall have the support at least
of those who are now willing to change their college for a fatter
living, or even to abandon the university altogether for their own
advantage. At present college livings are certainly too lean, and
force good wits to fly before they are well feathered. A better
maintenance would give more time and opportunity for study, and
thus secure a higher standard of learning, greater ripeness of
judgment, and more solidity of character. Students would be made
more independent, and would not have to come under obligations
by accepting support from other quarters. The restriction in the
number of livings would be no objection, as it would shut out
those less qualified to profit by them, and thus raise the level
of attainment. It were better for the country to have a few well
trained and sufficiently provided for, than an unlearned multitude.
Moreover, it is not consonant with the liberal nature of learning
either that it should be unnecessarily dependent on charity, or
that it should in this way come under the control of those who
may act rather from personal considerations than regard to the
common welfare. Where learning grows up by props it loses its
true character; it is best when the stem can itself bear up the
branches. The outward conditions for the furtherance of learning
are the selection of scholars on grounds of ability and promise,
and sufficient time and maintenance for their due preparation;
the qualities required for the student himself are diligence and
discretion to profit fully by his opportunities.
University Readers.
The last reform which I am ready to contend for is that there
should be University readers appointed, of mature years, accredited
learning and secure position, who should direct and control the
studies of the students. Private study alone can never be compared
with the opportunity of working under one who has read and digested
all the best books in the subject, whose judgment has been formed
by his wide reading, and whose experience and intercourse with many
intellects has given him skill and address. The student who has not
this advantage will gain less with greater pains, since he could
in one lecture have the benefit of his reader’s universal study,
put in such a form that he can use it at once. Such readers would
save their cost in books alone, which would not then be so needful
to the student. They could be appointed with little or no cost to
the universities, and if they carried on their work in convenient
houses of their own, they would undoubtedly draw as many students
to their private establishments as there are now in the public
colleges.
Evils of Overpressure.
Hasty pressing onward is the greatest enemy that anything can
have, whose best is to ripen at leisure. I have appointed in my
elementary teaching--Reading, Writing, Drawing, Singing, Playing.
Now if these are imperfectly acquired when the child is sent to the
Grammar School, what an error is committed! How many small infants
have we sent to Grammar who can scarcely read, and how many to
learn Latin who never wrote a letter! Even though some youngster
could do much better than all his companions, it were no harm for
him to be captain a good while in his elementary school, rather
than to be a common soldier in a school where all are captains.
Many and serious are the evils that are caused by such hasting,
and if deploring them could amend them, I would lament that they
are so numerous and so hard to remedy. How common is the lack of
proper grounding in children, and how great is the foolishness of
their friends in regard to it! This is the chief cause that at
once makes children loth to learn, and schoolmasters seem harsh in
their teaching. For as the master hastens on to the natural aim of
his profession, and the scholar draws back, being unable to bear
the burden, there rises in the master an irritation which can only
be controlled by the wisdom and patience that are the fruits of
experience. And as in the teacher irritation breeds heat, so in the
scholar weakness breeds fear, and so much the more if he finds his
master somewhat too impatient, wherefore neither the one nor the
other can do much good at all. Whereas if the boy had nothing to
fear, how eager he would be, and what a pleasure the teacher would
take in his aptness to learn! But even if the child’s weakness is
felt both by himself and by his teacher, it is difficult to get the
parent to believe in it, owing to the blindness of his affection,
and he will prefer to seek out some other teacher who will adopt
his views, and undertake the task. Thus change feeds his humour
for the time, though he will afterwards repent his folly, when the
defect proves incurable, and the first master is at last admitted
to have been a true prophet. So necessary a thing is it to prevent
ills in time, and when warning is given not to laugh it to scorn
nor blame the watchman.
If the imperfections which come more from haste than from ignorance
did not go beyond the elementary school, the harm done might
be redressed, but as one billow driveth on another, so haste,
beginning there, makes the other successions in learning move on at
too headlong a pace. Is it only to the Grammar School that children
are sent too early? Are there none sent to the University who, when
they come out of it years afterwards, might with advantage return
to the Grammar School again? Do not some of good intelligence find
in the course of their study the evil effects of too great haste at
the beginning, and wish too late that they had been better advised?
And even if they make up what they have missed, do they not find it
true that a process which may be pleasant enough to young boys is
full of pain for older people? The Universities can best judge of
the weaknesses of our Grammar Schools when they find the defects of
those youths whom they receive from us, though they were not sent
by us. We see these defects ourselves, but we cannot remedy them,
for the partiality of parents over-rules all reason, and when the
pupil is removed all conference with the teacher is cut off. In
some places the multitude of schools mars the whole market, giving
too great opportunity for change, generally for the worse, so that
by degrees the elementary scholar enfeebles the Grammar School boy,
and he in turn transporteth his weakness from his schoolmaster to
his university tutor. So important is it to avoid haste at the
first, lest it cause injury to the last.
Are not youths often sent into the world, who may receive
consideration on account of their degrees, but deserve none for
their learning? If men did not judge sensibly that young shoots
must be green, however good an appearance they may make, youth
might deceive them with its titles, as it deceives itself with
conceit. The causes of haste are--impatience, which can abide
no tarrying when a restless conceit is overladen; the desire of
liberty, to live as he pleases, because he pleases not to live
as he should; arrogance, making him wish to appear a person of
importance; hope of preferment, urging him to desire dignities
before the ability to support them. In the meanwhile the common
welfare is sacrificed to personal advantage, and even that
advantage is in appearance and not in reality. The canker that
consumeth all, and causeth all this evil, is haste, an ill-advised,
rash, and headstrong counsellor, that is most pernicious when there
is either some appearance of ripeness in the child, or some unwise
encouragement from a teacher who is without true discernment. It is
time that perfecteth all; it is the mother of truth, the touchstone
of ripeness, the enemy of error, the true support and help of man.
Limit of Elementary Course.
When the child can read so readily and confidently that the length
of his lesson gives him no trouble; when he can write so neatly
and so fast that he finds no kind of exercise tedious; when his pen
or pencil gives him only pleasure; when his music, both vocal and
instrumental, is so far forward that a little voluntary practice
may keep it up and even improve it; then the elementary course has
lasted long enough. The child’s ordinary exercises in the Grammar
School will continue his reading and writing and he will always
be drawing of his own accord, because it delighteth his eye, and
busieth not his brain. His music, however, must be encouraged by
the pleasure taken in it by the teacher and his parents, for in
those early years children are musical rather for others’ benefit
than for their own. It is certain that in tarrying long enough
to bring all these things to perfection there is no real loss of
time, especially seeing that these attainments, even if they go
no further, make a pretty adornment to a household if they be
thoroughly acquired.
Difficulties in Teaching.
A great and learned man of our day, Philip Melancthon, thought so
much of the troublesome and toilsome life which we teachers lead
that he wrote an interesting book on the miseries of schoolmasters.
We have to thank him for his good-will; but as there is no kind of
life, be it high or low, that has not its own share of troubles, we
need not be overwhelmed by a sense of our special difficulties. Our
profession is certainly more arduous than most; but, on the other
hand, not many have such opportunities of doing good service. There
is little profit, however, in such comparisons. To what purpose
should I show why the teacher blames one thing, the parent another,
the child nothing but the rod which he is so prone to deserve? So
apt are we to repine at the pain we suffer, without weighing the
offence which deserved it. I will rather proceed to deal with the
remedies for what he calls “miseries,” but I would prefer to term
_inconveniences_, with which the teaching profession has to contend
in our own time. The counsel I offer, though referring specially
to the youngest scholars, may well be carried further and applied
to the oldest and most advanced in any course of learning. The
remedies I take to be two--uniformity of method, which would secure
economy both of time and expense, and the establishment of public
school regulations, made clearly known to all concerned, which
would prevent misunderstandings between teachers and parents or
scholars.
Uniformity of Method.
No one who has either taught, or has been taught himself, can
fail to recognise that there is too much variety in teaching, and
therefore too much bad teaching, for in the midst of many by-paths
there is but one right way. This is proved by the differences of
opinion that men show, due to better or worse training in youth,
to greater or less application to study, to longer or shorter
continuance at their books, to their liking or disliking some
particular kind of learning, and many other similar causes, which
may lead ignorance to vaunt itself with all the authority that
belongs to sound knowledge. The diversity of groundwork which
lies at the root of so much confusion of judgment is a great
hindrance to youth and a discredit to schools, and causes serious
inequalities in the universities. It may happen that a weak teacher
by some accident brings up a strong scholar, and that an abler man
owing to some ordinary hindrance makes little show for his labour.
But if variety had given place to uniformity, even the weakest
teacher might have done very well, if he had the intelligence to
follow the directions put before him.
This defect has often been deplored by our best teachers, who have
nevertheless shrunk from the task of supplying the remedy. If a
uniform system could be agreed upon, all the youth of this whole
realm will seem to have been brought up in one school, and under
one master, both in regard to the matter and to the manner of
their teaching, while differing in their own invention, which is
individual by nature, though it may be trained by general rules
of art. Such a measure must needs bring profit to the learner by
saving him from the chances of going astray, ease to the teacher by
lightening his labour, honour to the country by providing a store
of good material, and immortal renown to the enlightened sovereign
who should confer so great a benefit. Though agreement in a uniform
method must be enforced by authority, it must be based on some
likeness of ability in teachers in regard to their own specialty,
though they may differ much in the manner of applying it and in
other qualities. Now the only way to procure this equal standard of
efficiency, where natural differences are so great, is to lay down
in some definite scheme what seems best, both as to what and as to
how to teach, with all the particular circumstances that may apply
to the best-ordered schools not beyond the reach of the indifferent
teacher, yet such as to satisfy the more skilful. Thus diligence
on the part of the less able may even effect more than the greater
learning of the other, who may become negligent or insolent from
over-confidence. If I am not mistaken, there are good reasons
for holding that it is better for the commonwealth to provide
some direction for the ordinary teacher who will continue in his
profession the greater part of his life and have many chances of
doing good, than to leave it at random to the liberty of the more
learned, who commonly make use of teaching only to shift with for
a time, and are but pilgrims in the profession, always thinking of
removing to some easier or more profitable kind of life. Scholars
cannot profit much when their teachers act like strangers, who,
intending some day to return to their own country, cannot have that
zealous care which the native showeth, and though conscience may
sometimes cause an honest man to work well and do his duty in this
temporary position, such cases can be only exceptional, and general
provision must be for the leading of the weaker, who will always
need it.
If when this scheme for settling the matter and the manner of
teaching is set down, those who have to carry it out prove
negligent, and delay or even defeat the good effects, by their
ill-advised handling of what was well meant, the overseers and
patrons of schools must bring pressure to bear on such teachers,
of their own motion if they can, and if they cannot, then by the
assistance of learned men who are competent to act, and who out
of courtesy will help to further the end in view. Our precepts
are general; the application must be made according to the
circumstances of particular cases. I have only roughly indicated
the purpose of uniformity in teaching, and the disjointing of
skill by misordered variety, yet who is so blind as not to discern
that the one removes the evils caused by the other, and thereby
relieves the schools of many hindrances? Rapid progress in learning
would at once follow, through the choice of the best and fittest
authors from the first, the use of exercises adapted to the
advancement of the child, and the teacher’s orderly procedure in
general. By this means the scholar would not learn anything he
ought to forget, or leave anything needful unlearned, through the
ill-advised counsel of his teacher, and the teacher on his part
would be saved from hurrying on too fast, or dwelling too long on
one thing. The best course being hit upon at the first, as may be
generally appointed, one thing helpeth another forward naturally,
without forcing; what is first taught maketh way for what must
follow next, and continual use will let nothing be forgotten which
is once well got, and the gradual advance in learning will succeed
in proportion, without loss of time or unnecessary labour either
through lingering too long or hurrying on too fast. This result
cannot possibly be brought about at present, while things are left
to the discretion of teachers, of whom the most are not specially
enlightened, and even the very best cannot always hit upon the
most fruitful methods, and while the customary education is held
as a sanction, alteration even for the better considered a heresy,
and approval determined by personal prejudice. I do not touch upon
any hindrances that cannot easily be removed, if the matter be
taken in hand by authority; difficulties that belong to special
circumstances must be dealt with at another time.
The lack of uniformity is clearly shown when children change
both schools and teachers; either the new master thinks it some
discredit to himself to begin where the old one left off, or
disapproves of the choice that the previous teacher had made, or
seeks to exalt himself by finding fault with the other, or else the
arrangement of his school does not admit of a regular progression,
every school having a plan of its own. Sometimes the boy not being
properly grounded, either through the ignorance of his teachers
or his own negligence, cannot easily be influenced for the better,
or led to give up his own conceit of himself, and this generally
happens when the parents are unreasonable and think their child
disgraced if he is “put back,” as the phrase is, whereas in reality
he is bid only to _look_ back, to see that which he never saw
and ought to have seen very thoroughly. This cause of disorder,
proceeding from the parents, affecteth us all, causing great
weakness and much failure of classification in the forms of our
schools, whereas if there were a uniform order fixed by authority,
however often the child may change, his advancement is easily
tested, and the parents will have no pretext for discontent, when
they see that the matter is fixed by public provision, and that
there is no room for private partiality. At present the only thing
that is uniform in our schools is the common grammar set forth by
authority, the use of which confirms the opinion I have expressed,
as regards both the policy of adopting it from the beginning, and
the advantage of having something definitely decided to which we
are all bound to agree. Whether the book now in use may be retained
with some amendment, or should give place to one with a better
method, is a matter for consideration, for all such books, serving
for direction, must be fashioned to the matter which they seem to
direct by rule and precept, existing as they do, not for their own
sake, but as a means to an end. The experience of having a common
grammar proves the value of uniformity, but it remains a matter of
controversy whether it is itself the best possible grammar.
The second advantage of uniformity is the saving of expense. While
it is left to the teacher’s liberty to make his own choice, both
as to what book he shall use and what method he shall adopt,
what with the variety of judgment and inequality of learning in
teachers, which may be unified by authority, but will never be by
consent, the parents’ purses are heavily taxed and poor men are
sorely pinched. This is brought about both by the change of books,
the master often reversing his former choice, and also by their
number, every book being commended to the buyer which either maketh
a fair show to be profitable, or is otherwise solicited to the sale
owing to the need for disposing of an over-supply. Whatever is
needful to be used in schools may be very well comprised in a small
compass; one small volume may be compounded of the marrow of many,
and the change need not be great. Nor yet hereby is any injury done
to good writers, whose books may very well tarry for the ripeness
of the reader, and the place that is due to them in the ordinary
ascent of learning and study, according to their value and degree,
so that they may win praise for their authors from those who are
able to judge, and may bring profit to the student when he is able
to understand and remember them.
Choice of School Books.
In our Grammar Schools we profess to teach the tongues, or rather
to make a beginning with teaching them. Every subject that is
treated in any tongue supplies the student with the terms that
belong to it, which are most easily got up in connection with the
matter. If, then, the scholar of the Grammar School be taught to
write, speak, and understand readily in some well-chosen subject,
the school has performed its duty in doing even so much, though the
boy may not know all, or even most, of the words in the language,
which is a matter for further study. Those that assign their tasks
to Grammar School teachers recommend historians and poets, though
they make some distinction of writers according to the tendency of
their matter and the purity of their style. But what time is there
in our schools to run over all these, or even to deal with a few of
them thoroughly? Would it not be more creditable to our profession,
and more convenient for the parents, to have a selection carefully
made and printed by itself? And should not the most important books
be left over to be taken in connection with the particular callings
to which they refer? Let those who are gifted with imagination make
a special study of the poets, and those who take most interest in
the records of memorable deeds devote themselves to history. If men
of greater learning have leisure and desire to read, they may use
histories for pleasure as an after-dinner study, neither trying the
brain nor proving tedious, since they cannot generally be accepted
as a basis of judgment, because ignorance of the circumstances
causes a difficulty in applying conclusions. They may also run
through the poets when they are disposed to laugh, and to behold
what bravery enthusiasm inspireth. For when poets write soberly
and plainly, without attempting any illusion, they can scarcely
be called poets, though they write in verse, but only when they
cover a truth with a veil of fancy, and transfigure the reality.
We should therefore cull out some of the best and most suitable
for our introductory course, and leave all the rest for special
students, and that not in the poets and histories alone, but also
in all other books that are now admitted into our schools. Some
very excellent passages, most eloquently and forcibly penned for
the polishing of good manners and inducement to virtue, may be
picked out of some of the poets, and from none more than Horace.
But heed must be taken that we do not plant any poetic _fury_ in
the child’s disposition. For that impetuous imagination, where
it already exists, is in itself too wayward, though it be not
helped forward, and where it is not present it should in no case
be forced. As for other writers, regard must be paid to the number
and choice of their words, the smoothness and propriety of their
composition, and the solid worth of their matter. Quintilian’s
rule is the best, and should always be observed in choosing
writers for children to learn, to pick out such as will feed the
intelligence with the best material, and refine the tongue with the
most polished style, so that we avoid alike trivial and unsuitable
matter, however eloquently set forth, and what is rudely expressed,
however weighty and wise it may be, reserving only those passages
where the good tendency and intelligibility of the subject are
clothed and honoured with refined and fitting language.
I intend myself, by the grace of God, to bestow some pains on this
task, if I see any hope of my labour being encouraged. If any one
else will take the matter up I am ready to stand aside and rejoice
in his success; if none other will, then I trust my country will
bear with me when I offer my dutiful service in so necessary a
case. If any one of higher position should be inclined to resent
my action, I must appeal to the public judgment, yet if such a one
does not step forth and prove his own skill, he cannot complain if
another speaks while he is silent. I crave the gentle and friendly
construction of such as be learned, or love learning, and if I
should have the misfortune to dissatisfy any in my work, I will do
my best to improve it.
School Regulations.
The second remedy for the difficulties of teachers is to set
forth the school regulations in a public place, where they may be
easily seen and read, and to leave as little as possible uncertain
which the parent ought to know, and out of which dissatisfaction
may arise. For if at the first entry the parent agree to those
arrangements which he sees set forth, so that he cannot afterwards
plead either ignorance or disapproval, he cannot take offence if
his child be forced to keep them in the form to which he consented.
Yet when all is done there may be doubt about the interpretation
of the rules. Wherefore the manner of teaching, the method of
promotion, the times of admission, the division of numbers, the
text-books, and all those matters into which uniformity can be
introduced, being already known to be fixed by authority, as I
trust they will be, or at least the arrangements being set down
which the schoolmaster on his own judgment intends to keep, it
will further remove the chance of contention between the teacher
and the parents if it be also stated what are the regular hours of
work, exceptions being made in special cases, and what will be the
intervals for play, which indeed is very necessary, and not as yet
sufficiently taken into account.
Punishments.
But the teacher must above all make clear what punishments he
will use, and how much, for every kind of fault that shall seem
punishable by the rod. For the rod can no more be spared in
schools than the sword in the hand of the Prince. By the rod I
mean some form of correction, to inspire fear. If that instrument
be thought too severe for boys, which was not devised by our
time, but received from antiquity, I will not strive with any man
in its defence, if he will leave us some means for compelling
obedience where numbers have to be taught together. Even in
private upbringing, if the birch is wholly banished from the
home, parents cannot have their will, whatever they may say. And
if in men serious faults deserve and receive severe punishment,
surely children cannot escape punishments which bring proportional
unhappiness. And if parents were as careful to enquire into the
reasons why their child has been beaten as they are ready to be
unreasonably aggrieved, they might gain a great deal more for the
child’s advantage, and the child himself would lose nothing by the
parent’s assurance. But commonly in such cases rashness has its
recompense, the error being seen when the mischief is incurable,
and repentance is useless. Beating, however, must only be for
ill-behaviour, not for failure in learning, and it were more than
foolish to hide all faults and offences under the name of “not
learning.” What would that child be without beating, who even with
it can hardly be reclaimed, whose capacity is sufficient, the only
hindrance lying in his evil disposition? The aim of our schools is
learning; if it fails through negligence, punish the negligence,
if by any other wilful fault, punish that fault. Let the teacher
make it clear what the punishment is for, and leave as little as
possible to the report of the child, who will always make the best
of his own case, and will be sooner believed than even the best
master, especially if his mother be his counsellor, or if his
father be inconstant and without judgment.
The schoolmaster must therefore have a list made out of school
faults, beginning with moral offences, such as swearing,
disobedience, lying, stealing, and bearing false witness, and
including also minor breaches of discipline, such as truancy and
unpunctuality. To each of these should be apportioned a certain
number of stripes, not many but unchangeable. The master should
also try to secure that the fault should be confessed, if possible,
without compulsion, and the boy clearly convicted by the verdict of
his schoolfellows. For otherwise children will dispute the matter
vigorously, relying on credulity and partiality at home. If any of
their companions be appointed monitors--and such help must be had
where the master cannot always be present himself--and take them
napping, they will allege spite or some private grudge. And if the
master use correction, to support the authority of his lieutenants,
the culprit will complain at home that he hath been beaten without
cause. If the master postpone punishment, the delay will serve them
to devise some way of escape, in which they can count upon home
support.
To tell tales out of school, which in olden times was held to
be high treason, is now commonly practised in an unworthy way.
There are so many petty stratagems and devices that boys will
use to save themselves that the master must be very circumspect,
and leave no appearance of impunity where a penalty is really
deserved. It were indeed some loss of time for learning to spend
any in beating if it did not seem to make for the improvement of
manners and conduct. It is passing hard to reclaim a boy in whom
long impunity hath grafted a careless security, or rather a sturdy
insolence; and yet friends will urge that the boy should not be
beaten for fear of discouraging him, though they will have cause to
regret this afterwards. It is also not good after any correction
to let children dwell too long on the pain they have suffered,
lest it cause too much resentment, unless the parents are wise and
steadfast; and indeed that child is happy who has such parents,
and who lights as well on a skilful and discreet master who acts
in harmony with them. “But certainly it is most true, whatever
plausible arguments may be used in a contrary sense, that the
determined master who can use the rod discreetly, though he may
displease some who think all punishment indiscreet when it falls
on their own children, doth perform his duty best, and will always
bring up the best scholars. No master of any force of character can
do other than well, where the parents follow the same treatment
at home which the teacher does at school, and if they disapprove
of anything, will rather make a complaint to the master privately
than condole with their child openly, and in so doing bring about
more mischief in one direction than they can do good in any other.
The same faults must be faults at home which are faults at school,
and must be followed by the same consequences in both places, so
that the child’s good may be considered continuously as well in
correction as in commendation.”
Those who write most strongly in favour of gentleness in education
reserve a place for the rod, and we who frankly face the need for
severity on occasion, recommend teachers to use courtesy towards
their pupils whenever it is possible. The difference is that they
seem to make much of courtesy, but are forced by the position
to confess the need for the rod, while we, though accepting the
necessity openly, are yet more inclined to gentleness than those
who make greater professions in their desire to curry favour. I
would rather hazard the reproach of being a severe master in making
a boy learn what may afterwards be of service to him, even though
he be negligent and unwilling at the time, than that he should
lack any advantage when he is older, because I failed to make
him learn, owing to my vain desire to be considered a courteous
teacher. A schoolmaster, if he be really wise, will either prevent
his pupils from committing faults, or when they are committed,
will turn the matter to the best account, but in any case he must
have full discretion given to him to use severity or gentleness as
he thinks best, without any appeal. But I do think gentleness and
courtesy towards children more needful than beating. I have myself
had thousands of pupils passing through my hands whom I never beat,
because they needed it not; but if the rod had not been in sight
to assure them of punishment if they acted amiss, they might have
deserved it. Yet in regard to those who came next to the best, I
found that I would have done better if I had used more correction
and less gentleness, after carelessness had got head in them.
Wherefore, I must needs say that where numbers have to be dealt
with, the rod ought to rule, and even where there are few, it ought
to be seen, however hard this may sound. But the master must always
have a fatherly affection even for the most unsatisfactory boy, and
must look upon the school as a place of amendment, where failures
are bound to occur.
Condition of Teachers.
Where the salary is sufficient, it is well for a schoolmaster to
be married, for affection towards his own children will give him a
more fatherly feeling towards others, and smallness of salary will
make a single man remove sooner, as he has less to carry with him.
An older teacher should be more fit to govern, being more constant
and free from the levity of youth, and owing to the discretion and
learning which years should bring with them.
When all is done, the poor teacher must be subject to as much as
the sun is, in having to shine upon all, and see much more than he
can amend. His life is arduous, and therefore he should be pitied;
it is clearly useful, and therefore he should be cherished; it
wrestles with unthankfulness above all measure, and therefore he
should be comforted with all encouragement. One displeased parent
will do more harm in taking offence at some trifle, than a thousand
of the most grateful will ever do good, though it be never so well
deserved. Such small recompense is given for the greater pains,
the very acquaintance dying out when the child leaves the school,
though with confessed credit and manifest profit. But what calling
is there which has not to combat with discourtesies? Patience must
comfort when difficulty discourageth, and a resolute mind is a
bulwark to itself.
Consultation about Children.
Of all the means devised by policy and reflection to further the
upbringing of children, as regards either learning or good habits,
I see none comparable to these two--conference among all those who
are interested in seeing children well brought up, and systematic
constancy in carrying out what is so planned by general agreement,
so that there shall be no changes except where circumstances demand
it.
The conference of those interested in the upbringing of children
may be of four kinds--between parents and neighbours, between
teachers and neighbours, between parents and teachers, and between
teachers and teachers. Under the term “neighbours” I include all
strangers who are moved either by duty or courtesy to help in the
training of children. Now if parents are willing to take counsel
with such, they may learn by the experience of others how to deal
with their own families. If neighbours are willing to give advice
to parents when they notice anything amiss in their children, is
it not honourable in them to act so honestly? And does it not show
wisdom in parents to take it in a friendly spirit? And are not
these children fortunate who have such solicitous helpers among
their friends, and such considerate listeners at home.
This consultation may be between the neighbour and the teacher.
In this the teacher must act very warily, for he has to consider
what credit he may give to the informer, how far the scholar is
capable of amendment, and how the parents will look at the matter.
When the parent is dealing with his own child, either from his own
knowledge or from accepted report, his judgment is life or death,
without appeal, but when the teacher takes this office on him many
objections may be made. ‘Why did you believe? Why did he meddle?
Why did you act in this way?’ But if such consultation be wisely
handled by all concerned, it will be a great advantage to the child
to be made to feel that, wherever he is and whatever he does, if
anyone sees him, his parent or his master, or both together, will
also see him through the eyes of others.
As for consultation between parents and teachers, I have already
said much on this head, but it is such an important matter that
I can never say too much about it, because their friendly and
faithful co-operation brings about perpetual obedience in the
child, scorn of evil, and desire to do well. Nothing hinders this
so much as credulity and partiality in the parents, when they are
unable to withstand their children’s tears and pleading against
some deserved punishment. Though the parents may at the time gain
their point, they will find in the end that they cannot have their
own will as they would like. Such consultation is of special value
when the child is leaving school to proceed onward to further
learning, and when there is a question of changing masters owing to
some fancied grievance. In the former case, the parent by seeking
the teacher’s advice can be surer of his ground. In the latter
case, it may prevent loss to the child through misunderstanding.
You are offended with the master, but have you conferred with him,
and explained to him openly the cause of your dissatisfaction?
Have you made quite sure that the fault is not in your son, or in
yourself? If the master be wise, and if he hath been advisedly
chosen, though he should chance to have erred, he will know how to
make amends; if he be not wise, then the consultation will help to
show him up, and make it certain how much trust can be put in him.
I must needs say once for all that there is no public or private
means that makes so much for the good upbringing of children as
this conference between parents and teachers.
The last kind of consultation that I recommend is that among the
members of the teaching profession, which has a good influence on
education generally. Can any single person, or even a few, however
skilful they may be, see the truth as clearly as a number can, in
common consultation? Even in matters not concerned with learning
such conference is found profitable, and where it is practised
among teachers for the common good, it may have the advantage of
giving forth a unanimous opinion to the public. In places where
there are a number of schools within a small compass, this kind of
conference can be easily secured and is very desirable.
Systematic Direction.
The next condition of good upbringing is the best offspring of wise
conferences, namely, certainty of direction, indicating what to
do and what to learn, how to do and how to learn, when and where
to do that which refines the behaviour, and to learn that which
advanceth knowledge. For children, being themselves ignorant, must
have system to direct them, and trainers must not devise something
new every day, but should at once make definitely known what they
will require from the children, and what the children may look for
at their hands. This systematic regularity must be laid down and
maintained in schools for learning, in the home for behaviour, and
in churches for religion, because these three places are the chief
resorts that children have.
In schooling it assureth the parents as to what is promised there,
and how far it is likely to be performed, by informing them of the
method and orders that are set down; it directeth the children as
by a well-trodden path, how to come to where their journey lieth;
it relieveth the master’s mind by putting his meaning and wishes
into writing, and giving the results of experience in a form that
can be followed as by habit without constant renewal.
As for regularity at home, I have already urged it, in wishing
that parents would act so in the home that there may be conformity
between their management and that of the school. By this means
neither would schools have cause to complain of infection from
private corruption, nor would they easily send any misdemeanour
home, since the child would be sure to be sharply checked by its
parents for any ill-doing. There should be the utmost regularity
for children in the home, deciding for them when to rise and
when to go to bed, when and how to say their morning and evening
prayers, when and how to greet their parents night and morning, on
leaving and on entering the house, at meat and on other occasions.
Obedience to the prince and to the laws is securely grounded when
private houses are so well ordered; there is little need for
preaching when private training is so carefully carried out.
Regularity and order are equally needful for children when they
attend the churches on holidays and festivals. All the young ones
of the parish should be placed in a particular part of the church,
where they can be properly supervised, none being suffered to range
through the streets on any pretence, and all being in the eye of
the parents and parishioners. They must further be attentive to the
divine service and learn betimes to reverence the rule they will
afterwards have to live by. Regularity brings present pleasure and
much advantage later on, and he that is acquainted with discipline
in his youth will think himself in exile if he find it not in
old age. Whoever perceives and deplores the present variety in
schooling, the disorder in families, and the dissoluteness in the
church, will think I have not said amiss.
Yet this systematic regularity is not to be so rigid that it
will not yield to discretion where a change in the circumstances
demands it. As now our teaching consisteth in tongues, if some
other thing at a future time seems fitter for the State, it must
be adopted and given its proper place. But in making changes it
is well to alter by degrees, and not overturn everything all at
once. Unfortunately human nature is readier to receive a number of
corrupting influences than to take pains to lessen a single evil by
degrees.
Thus bold have I been with you, my good and courteous
fellow-countrymen, in taking up your time with a multitude of
words, whose force I know not, but whose purpose hath been to show
how, in my opinion, the present great variety in teaching may be
reduced to some uniformity. I have given free expression to my
opinions, not because I am greatly dissatisfied with what we have,
but because I often wish for what we have not, as something much
better, and the rather to be wished because it might be so easily
attained. I might have set forth my principles in aphoristic form,
leaving commentary and recommendation to experience and time, but
in the first place I do not deserve so much credit that my bare
word should stand for a warrant, and in the second place I was
unwilling to alienate by precise brevity those whom I might win
over by argument. Wherefore I have written on all the various
points enough, I think, for any reader who will be content with
reason,--too much, I fear, for so evident a matter, as I believe
these principles cannot be substantially contradicted. For I have
grounded them upon reading, and some reasonable experience, and
have applied them to the circumstances of this country, without
attempting to enforce any foreign or strange device. Moreover
I have tried to leaven them with common-sense, in which long
teaching hath left me not entirely deficient. I do not take upon
me, dictator-like, to pronounce peremptorily, but in the way of
counsel to say what I have learned by long teaching, by reading
somewhat, and observing more; and I must pray my fellow-countrymen
so to understand me, for having been urged these many years
by some of my friends to publish something, and never hitherto
having ventured into print, I might seem to have let the reins
of modesty run loose, if at my first attempt I should seem like
a Caesar to offer to make laws. Howbeit, my years beginning to
decline, and certain of my observations seeming to some folks to
crave utterance, I thought it worth the hazard of gaining some
men’s favour. My wishes perhaps may seem sometimes to be novelties.
Novelties perhaps they are, as all amendments to the thing that
needeth redress must be, but at least they are not fantastic,
having their seat in the clouds. I am not the only one who has ever
wished for change. If my wish were impossible of fulfilment, though
it seemed desirable, it would deserve to be denied, but where the
thing is both profitable and possible, why should it not be brought
about, if wishing may procure it? I wish convenient accommodation
for learning and exercise. This does not now exist in every part
of the country,--indeed it scarcely exists anywhere as yet. I
would not have wished it if there had been any real difficulty in
accomplishing it, and it will not come about before the wish is
expressed. There is no heresy nor harm in my wishes, which are all
for the good and happiness of my country.
The Standard of English Spelling.
Because I take upon me to direct those who teach children to read
and write English, and because the reading must needs be such as
writing leads to, therefore I will thoroughly examine the whole
certainty of our English writing, as far as I am able, because it
is a thing both proper to my subject and profitable to my country.
For our natural tongue being as beneficial to us for our needful
expression as any other is to the people who use it, and having
as pretty and fair phrases in it, and being as ready to yield to
any rule of art as any other, why should I not take some pains
to find out the correct writing of ours, as men have done in
other countries with theirs? And so much the rather because it is
asserted that the writing of it is exceedingly uncertain, and can
scarcely be rescued from extreme confusion without some extreme
measure. I mean, therefore, to deal with it in such a way that I
may wipe away the opinion that it is either uncertain and confused
or incapable of direction, so that both native English people
may have some secure place to rest in, and strangers who desire
it may have some certain means of learning the language. For the
performance of this task, and for my own better guidance, I will
first examine the means by which other tongues of most sacred
antiquity have been brought to artistic form and discipline for
their correct writing, to the end that by following their way I may
hit upon their method, and at the least by their example may devise
some means corresponding to theirs, where the custom of our tongue
and the nature of our speech will not admit of the same course
being exactly followed. That being done, I will try all the variety
of our present writing, and reduce the uncertain force of all our
letters to as much certainty as any writing can attain.
I begin at the subject of correct writing, because reading, which
is the first elementary study, must be directed both in precept and
practice according to the way that the thing which is to be read
is written or printed. And considering that the correct writing of
our tongue is still in question, some, who are too far in advance,
esteeming it quite unfit, some, who are too far behind, thinking
it perfect enough, some, who have the soundest opinion, judging it
to be on the whole well appointed, though in certain particulars
requiring to be improved, is it not a very necessary labour to fix
the writing, so that the reading may be sure? Now, in examining the
correct method of our writing, I begin at that which the learned
tongues used, to find out what was right for themselves, when they
were in the same position in which ours now is. For all tongues
keep one and the same rule for their main development, though each
has its special features. In this way I shall be able to answer all
those objections which charge our writing with either insufficiency
or confusion, and also to examine, as by a sure touchstone, all
the other supplements which have been devised heretofore to help
our writing, by either altering the old characters, or devising
some new, or increasing their number. For if the other tongues
that have been so highly esteemed, when they were subject to, and
charged with, these same supposed wants with which our writing
is now burdened, delivered themselves by other means than either
altering, or superseding, or increasing their characters, and
made use of their own material, why should we seek means that are
strange and not in keeping with our language when we have such a
pattern to perfect our writing by so well-warranted a precedent?
That the finest tongue was once quite rude is proved by the very
course of nature, which proceeds from weakness to strength, from
imperfection to perfection, from a low degree to a high dignity.
What means, then, did those languages use, which have won the
opinion of being correctly written, to come by the method that
produced that opinion? There are two considerations in regard to
speech concerning the way that has been followed in its refining.
For if we look into the first degree of refining, before which no
tongue at all had any beauty in the pen, we have to consider how
the very first language proceeded from her first rudeness to her
fullest perfection. Again, we have to consider how other secondary
languages have improved and purified themselves by following the
same method as that used by the primitive tongue.
But I desire to be warranted by them both, that is, to follow
the first refiners and also the second improvers in this course,
which, as far as I know, no man has yet kept in this subject,
though several have written orthographies. And my opinion is, that
it best beseems a scholar to proceed by art to any recovery from
the claws of ignorance. Therefore, I will examine, even from the
very root, how and by what degrees the very first tongue seems to
have come by her perfection in writing, and what means were taken
to continue that perfection, ever since the time that any tongue
was perfected. Consideration, however, must always be had to the
special peculiarities of any particular tongue, as these cannot
be comprised under a general precept along with any other tongue,
but must be treated as exceptions to the common rule. And yet even
these particular features are not omitted in the general method
of the first refining, and thus it is commended to us by means of
translations, which come in the third degree, and refine after
the first, by following the intervening process. Now, in this
long passage from the first condition of extreme rudeness to the
last neatness of finished skill, I will name three stages, each
naturally succeeding the other, where the reader’s understanding
may alight and go on foot, if it be wearied with riding. The
first stage is while the sound alone bore sway in writing. The
second is while consent in use removed authority from sound alone
to the joint rule of reason, custom, and sound. The third, which
is now in progress, is while reason and custom secure their own
joint government with sound by means of art. For as sound, like a
restrained but not banished Tarquinius, desiring to be restored
to his first sole monarchy, and finding supporters only in the
province of sound, sought to make a tumult among the writers, ever
after that reason and custom were joined with him in commission. I
will, therefore, first deal with the government in writing which
was under sound, when everything was written according to the
sound, though that stage came to an end long ago.
I should begin too far back in seeking out the ground of correct
writing, if I should enquire either who devised letters first, or
who wrote first,--a thing as uncertain to be known as it would be
fruitless if it were known. For what certainty can there be of so
old a thing, or what profit can arise from knowing one man’s name,
even if one were the founder, which can scarcely be? For though
he be honoured for the fruit of his invention, yet his authority
would do small good, seeing that the matter in question is to be
confirmed not by the credit of the inventor, who dwells we know
not where, but by the user’s profit, which everyone feels. And
therefore as they who devised the thing first (for it was the
invention of no one man, nor of any one age), did a marvellously
good turn to all their posterity, so we, as their posterity, must
think well of the inventors, and must judge that pure necessity
was the foundress of letters, and of all writing, as it has been
the only general breeder of all things that better our life, need
and want forcing men’s wits to seek for such helps. For as the
tongue conveyed speech no further than to those that were within
hearing, and the necessity of communication often arose between
persons who were further off, a device was made to serve the eye
afar off by the means of letters, as nature satisfied the ear close
at hand by the use of speech. For the handing down of learning
by the pen to posterity was not the first cause of finding out
letters, but an excellent use perceived to be in them to serve for
perpetuity a great while after they had been found by necessity.
The letters being thus found out in order to serve a needful turn,
took the force of expressing every distinct sound in the voice, not
by themselves or any virtue in their form (for what likeness or
affinity has the form of any letter in its own nature to the force
or sound in a man’s voice?) but only by consent of the men who
first invented them, and the happy use of them perceived by those
who first received them.
Hereupon in the first writing the sound alone led the pen, and
every word was written with the letters that the sound commanded,
because the letters were invented to express sounds. Then for the
correct manner of writing, who was sovereign and judge but sound
alone? Who gave sentence of pen, ink, and paper, but sound alone?
Then everyone, however unskilful, was partaker in the authority
of that government by sound. And there was good reason why sound
should rule alone, and all those have a share in the government of
sound, who were able even to make a sound. In those days, all the
arguments that cleave so firmly to the prerogative of sound, and
plead so greatly for his interest, in the setting down of letters,
were esteemed most highly, as being most agreeable to the time,
and most serviceable to the State. But afterwards when sound upon
sufficient cause was deposed from his monarchy, as being no fit
person to rule the pen alone, and had others joined with him in
the same commission, who were of as good countenance as he, though
not meant to act without him, then their credit was not at all
so absolute, though reasonably good still. This any well-advised
supporters of sound may well perceive, and be well content with,
if they will but mark the restriction in the authority of sound,
and its causes. For as great inconveniences followed, and the
writing itself proved more false than true, when the pen set down
the form that the ear suggested to answer a particular sound,
and as the sound itself was too imperious, without mercy or
forgiveness whatever justification the contrary side had, men of
good understanding, who perceived and disliked this imperiousness
of sound, which was maintained with great uncertainty,--nay rather
with confusion than assurance of right,--assembled themselves
together to confer upon a matter of such general interest, and in
the end, after resolute and ripe deliberation, presented themselves
before sound, using the following arguments to modify his humour,
but seeking rather to persuade than compel:
That it would please him to take their speech in good part,
considering that it concerned not their private good, but the
general interest of the whole province of writing: That he would
call to his remembrance the reasons which moved them at the first
to give him alone the authority over the pen, as one whom they then
thought most fit for such a government, and indeed most fit to
govern alone: That they now perceived, not any fault in him, for
using like a prince what was his peculiar right, granted by their
own commission, but an oversight in themselves in unadvisedly
overcharging him with an estate which he could not rule alone
without a sacrifice of his honour, whereof they were as tender as
of their own souls: That their request therefore unto him was not
to think more of his own private honour than of the good of the
whole province: That they might with his good leave amend their own
error, which however it concerned his person yet should not affect
his credit, the fault being theirs in their first choice.
They paused a little while, before they uttered the main cause
of their motion, for they noticed that sound began to change
colour, and was half ready to swoon. For the fellow is passionate,
tyrannous in authority but timorous.
Howbeit, seeing that the common good urged them to speech, they
went on, and told him in plain terms that he must be content to
refer himself to order, and so much the rather because their
meaning was not to seek either his deprivation or his resignation,
but to urge him to qualify his government, and make use of a
further council which they meant to join with him, as a thing
likely to bear great fruit, and of good example in many such cases,
since even great potentates and princes, for the general weal of
their states, were very well content, upon humble suit made to
them, to admit such a council, and use it in affairs: That the
reasons which moved them to make this suit, and might also move him
to admit the same, were of great importance: That because letters
were first found only to express him, therefore they had given him
alone the whole government therein, and were well contented with
it, until they had espied, not his misgovernment, but their own
mischoice: That the bare and primitive inventions, being but rude,
and being ruled accordingly, and experience at the time affording
no more growth in refinement, why should they not now yield to
refinement, upon better cause, what they yielded to rudeness from
mere necessity? That no man having any sense of the correctness in
writing that is commended by experience would yield the direction
to sound alone, which is always altering, and differs according as
either the pronouncer is ignorant or learned, or the parts that
pronounce are of clear or stop delivery, or as the ear itself has
judgment to discern: That considering these defects, which crave
reform, and the letter itself, which desires some assurance of her
own use, it might stand with his good pleasure to admit to his
council two grave and great personages, whom they had long thought
of, and through whose assistance he might the better govern the
province of the pen.
Since they praised the parties so much, he desired their names.
They answered--Reason, to consider what will be most agreeable upon
sufficient cause, and Custom, to confirm by experience and proof
what Reason would like best, and yet not to do anything without
conference with sound.
The personages pleased him for their own worthiness, but the very
thing that recommended them to him for their own value made him
dislike them for the danger to himself. For is not either reason or
custom, if it please them to aspire, more likely to rule the pen
than sound? said he to himself. Howbeit, after they had charged
his conscience with all those reasons in one throng, which they
had used individually before, urging that it were no dishonour to
yield a little to those who had given him his whole rule: That
they might have leave to amend their own error in overcharging
him: That though they seemed to lower his rank, yet they did not
seek to defraud him of his own: That the wrongs done to writing,
which they indicated to him were matters worthy of redress: That
the councillors whom they appointed were honourable and honest:
That the common benefit of the whole province of writing earnestly
sued for it, and they were very well assured that so good a father
as he was to that poor estate would never be unwilling, but rather
voluntarily condescend without any request, that he might not be
half dishonoured in delaying the request from not knowing the
grievances. After they had pressed him so closely, though he was
very loth, after being once a sole monarch, to become almost a
private person by admitting controllers, as it seemed to him,
rather than councillors, as they meant, yet perceiving that their
power was such that they might force him to grant what they begged
of him if he should try to make terms with them, he was content to
yield, though with some show of discontent in his very countenance,
and to admit Reason and Custom as his fellow-governors in the
correct method of writing.
For in very deed wise and learned people, whatever they may lend
ignorance to play with for a time, reserve to themselves judgment
and authority to exercise control, when they see unskilfulness
play the fool too much, as in this same quarrel for the alteration
of sounds according to a presumptuous rule they had very great
reason to do. For as in faces, though every man by nature has two
eyes, two ears, one nose, one mouth, and so forth, yet there is
always such diversity in countenances that any two men may easily
be distinguished, even if they are as like as the two brothers,
the Lacedaemonian princes, of whom Cicero speaks; so likewise in
the voice, though in everyone it passes through by one mouth,
one throat, one tongue, one barrier of teeth, and so forth, yet
it is as different in everyone, as regards the sound, by reason
of some diversity in the vocal organs, as the faces are different
in form, through some evident distinction in the natural cast of
features. And this diversity, though it hinders not the expression
of everyone’s mind, is yet too uncertain to rule every man’s pen in
setting down letters.
And again, what reason had it to follow every man’s ear, as a
master scrivener, and to leave every man’s pen to its own sound,
where there were such differences, that they could not agree where
the right was, everyone laying claim to it? Again, why should
ignorance in any matter be taken for a guide in a case demanding
knowledge? Because of the clamour of numbers? That were to make
it an affair of popular opinion, whereas the subject is one of
special difficulty, requiring wisdom. And therefore if any number,
though never so few, deserve to be followed, it were only they who
could both speak best, and give the best reason why. But that kind
of people were too few at the first to find any place against a
popular government, where the ear led the ear, and it was asked why
sound should give over his interest, seeing letters were devised
to express sound in every one of us, and not merely the fancy of
a few wise fellows. And yet when corn was once introduced, acorns
grew out of use though a fit enough meat in a hoggish world. For
naturally the first serves the turn till the finer and better comes
forward. And as something worthily took the place of nothing, so
must that something again give place to its better; as sound did
something to expel rudeness, though it may not set itself to keep
out progress in refinement.
Wise men would stand no longer to that diversity in writing, which
necessarily followed, when everyone spelt as his vocal organs
fashioned the sound, or as his skill served him, or as his ear
could discern. All these means are full of variety, and never in
agreement, as appears by the example of whole nations, which cannot
sound some letters that others can.
Owing to these discontentments, and by consent of those who could
judge and pronounce best, they arrived at a certain and reasonable
custom--or rather, truth to say, to a customary reason--which they
held for a law, not inadvertently hit on through error and time,
but advisedly resolved on by judgment and skill. Nor yet did they,
contrary to their promise, deprive sound of all his royalty, which
was like that of a dictator before, but they joined reason with
him, and custom too, so as to begin then in acknowledged right,
and not in corruption after, as a Caesar and a Pompey, to be his
colleagues in a triumvirate. From that time forward sound could
do much, but not at all so much as before, being many times very
justly overruled by his well-advised companions in office. Thus
ended the monarchy of sound alone.
We are now come to that government in writing which was under
sound, reason and custom jointly, and which proceeded in this
way. Reason, as he is naturally the principal director of all
the best doings, and not of writing alone, began to play the
master, but yet wisely and with great modesty. For considering
the disposition of his two companions, first of sound, which the
letters were to express in duty, being devised for that purpose,
and then of custom, which was to confirm and pave the way to
general approval, he established this for a general law in the
province of writing--that as the first founders and devisers of
the letters used their own liberty, in assigning by voluntary
choice a particular character for the eye, to a particular sound in
the voice, so it should be lawful for the said founders and their
posterity, according as the necessity of their use and the dispatch
in their pen did seem to require it, either to increase the number
of letters, if the supply seemed not to satisfy the variety in
sound, or to apply one and the same letter to diverse uses, if
it could be done with some nice distinction, in order to avoid a
multitude of characters, as we apply words, which are limited in
number, to things which are without limit; and generally, like
absolute lords in a tenancy at mere will, to make their own need
the test of all letters, of all writing, of all speaking, to chop,
to change, to alter, to transfer, to enlarge, to lessen, to make,
to mar, to begin, to end, to give authority to this, to take it
from that, as they themselves should think good. This decree being
penned by reason, both sound and custom at once approved--sound,
because there was no remedy, though his heart longed still for
his former monarchy, which was now eclipsed; custom, because that
served his turn best. For if necessary use and dispatch in the pen
could have authority, which was given them in law, by consent of
the men who were successors to those that first founded the letter
(which were men of the most learned and wisest sort), then were
custom indeed, having reason for a friend, and sound no foe, a very
great prince in the whole province in both writing and speaking.
And good reason why. For custom is not that which men do or speak
commonly or most, upon whatsoever occasion, but only that which
is grounded at the first upon the best and fittest reason, and is
therefore to be used because it is the fittest. If this take place
according to the first appointment, then is custom in his right; if
not, then abuse in fact seems to usurp upon custom in name. So that
I take custom to build upon the cause, and not to make the cause.
After reason had brought both sound to this order, and custom to
this authority, then was there nothing admitted in writing but that
only, which was signed by all their three hands. If the sound alone
served, yet reason and custom must needs confirm sound; if reason
must have place, both sound and custom must needs approve reason;
if custom would be credited, he could not pass unless both sound
supported him and reason ratified him.
During the combined government of these three, the matter of all
our precepts that concern writing first grew to strength; then
rules were established and exceptions laid down, when reason and
custom perceived sufficient cause. But none of all these were as
yet commended to art and set down in writing; they were only held
in the memory and observation of writers, having sufficient matter
to furnish the body of an art, but lacking in method, which came
next in place, and joined itself with the other three for this
purpose.
All this time, while reason and custom governed the pen as well as
sound, the discontented friends of sound never rested, but always
sought means to supplant the other two, ever buzzing into ignorant
ears the authority of sound and his right to his own expression;
and the same errors that troubled the pen while sound alone was the
judge, began to creep in again, and cause a new trouble, inasmuch
as all of the more ignorant sort were clearly of opinion that the
very sternness of sound was simply to be accepted without all
exception, though those of learning and wisdom, who had first set
up reason and custom as companions to sound, and still continued
of the same mind, could very well distinguish usurpation from
inheritance, and right from wrong.
Reason therefore, finding by the creeping in of this error both
that he himself was being injured by senseless time, and his good
custom sorely assailed by counterfeit corruption, perceived the
fault to lie in the want of a good notary, and a strong obligation,
by which to set in everlasting authority, by right rule and true
writing, what he and custom both, by the consent of sound, had
continued in use, though not put down in writing. This would ever
be in danger of continual revolt from the best to the worst, by the
uncertainty of time and the elvishness of error, unless it were
set down in writing, and the conditions subscribed by all their
consents, for a perpetual evidence against the repiner. For this
is the difference between a reasonable custom and an artificial
method, that the first does the thing for the second to confirm,
and the second confirms by observing the first.
While nothing was set down in writing, sound and his accomplices
were in hopes of some recovery, but this hope was cut off when the
writings were made, and the conditions settled. The notary who was
to cut off all these controversies and breed a perpetual quiet in
the matter of writing, was Art, which gathering into one body all
those random rules that Custom had beaten out, disposed them so in
writing, that everyone knew his own limits, Reason his, Custom his,
Sound his. Now when Reason, Custom, and Sound were brought into
order, and driven to certainty by the means of art and method, then
began the third, the last, and the best assurance in writing.
Art, being herself in place, perceived the direction of the whole
tongue to be an infinitely hard task--nay to be scarcely possible
in general, considering the diverse properties of the three rulers,
reason, custom, and sound, which alter always with time. For what
people can be sure of their own tongue any long while? Does not
speech alter sometimes for the better, if the State where it is
used itself continue and grow to better countenance, either for
great learning, or for any other matter, which may help to refine
a language? And does it not sometimes change to the more corrupt,
if the State where it is used chance to be overthrown, and a
master-tongue coming in as conqueror, command both the people, and
the people’s speech also? In consideration of this uncertainty, Art
betook herself to some one period in the tongue, when it was of
most account, and therefore fittest to be made a pattern for others
to follow, and pleasantest for herself to work and toil in. Upon
this period she bestowed all those notes, which she perceived by
observation (the secretary to reason) to be in the common use of
speech and pen, either clear in sound, or suitable to reason, or
liked by custom, but always supported by them all.
Such a period in the Greek tongue was the time when Demosthenes
lived, and that learned race of the father-philosophers: such a
period in the Latin tongue was the time when Cicero lived, and
those of that age: such a period in the English tongue I take this
to be in our own day, both for the pen and for speech.
Art choosing such a period in the primitive tongue, and having all
the material gathered into notes, wherewith to set up her whole
frame and building of method, distributed them in such a way that
there was not any one thing necessary for correct writing, but she
had it in writing, saving some particulars which will be always
impatient of rule, and make fresh matter for another period in
speech; though that which is now made so sure by means of art can
never be in danger of any alteration, but will always be held for
a precedent to others, being most perfect in itself. For a tongue
once enrolled by the benefit of art, and grown to good credit, is
established in such assurance that its right cannot be denied, and
opposition would be soon espied, however it should wrangle; then it
is made a common example for the refining of other languages, which
have material for such a method, and desire to be so refined.
This course was kept by the first tongue that ever was refined,
from the first invention of any letters, until corruption which
had slily crept in, but had been wisely perceived, made a reform
necessary. This reform grew again to corruption, in the nature of a
relapse, because, though it was soundly made, yet it was not armed
with sufficient security against the festering evil of error and
corruption. Therefore, when it felt the want of such an assurance,
it begged aid from art, which, like a beaten lawyer, handled the
matter with such forethought in the penning of his books, that each
of those who were in any way interested was taught to know what was
his own. Other tongues besides the first to be refined, on marking
this current of events, applied the same to their own writing,
and were very glad to use the benefit of those men’s labour, who
wrestled with the difficulties of sound, error, corruption, and the
residue of that ill-humoured tribe.
This original precedent in the first, and transferred pattern
in the rest, I mean to follow in finding out our correct English
writing, and whether it will prove to be fashioned accordingly and
framed like the pattern, shall appear when the thing itself shall
come forth in her own natural hue, though in artificial habit.
Before I deal further with this matter, I must examine two
principal points in our tongue, of which one is, whether it has
material in it for art to build on, because I said that art dealt
where she found sufficient matter for her labour. The other is,
whether our writing is justly challenged for those infirmities with
which it is charged in our time, because I said that this period
of our own time seems to be the most perfect period in our English
tongue, and that our custom has already beaten out its own rules,
ready for the method and framework of art. These two points are
necessarily to be considered. For if there be either no material
for art owing to the extreme confusion, or if our custom be not yet
ripe enough to be reduced to rule, then that perfect period in our
tongue is not yet come, and I have entered upon this subject while
it is yet too green. However, I hope it will not prove premature,
and therefore I will first show that there is in our tongue great
and sufficient stuff for art to work upon; then that there is no
such infirmity in our writing as is pretended, but that our custom
has become fit to receive this framing by art by the method which I
have laid down, without any outside help, and by those rules only
which may be gathered out of our own ordinary writing.
It must needs be that our English tongue has matter enough in
her own writing to direct her own practice, if it be reduced to
definite precepts and rules of art. The causes why this has not as
yet been thoroughly perceived are the hope and despair of those
who have either thought upon it and not dealt with it, or have
dealt with it but not rightly thought upon it.
For some, considering the great difficulty which they found to be
in the writing of our language, almost every letter being deputed
to many and various--even well-nigh contrary--sounds and uses, and
almost every word either wanting letters for its necessary sound,
or having more than necessity demands, began to despair in the
midst of such a confusion of ever finding out any sure direction
on which art might be firmly grounded. Perhaps either they did not
seek, or did not know how to seek, the right form of method for
art to adopt. But whether difficulty in the search, or infirmity
in the searchers, gave cause for this, the parties themselves gave
over the thing, as in a desperate case, and by not meddling through
despair they fail to help the right.
Again some others, bearing a good affection to their natural
tongue, and being resolved to burst through the midst of all these
difficulties, which offered such resistance, devised a new means,
in which they placed their hope of bringing the thing about.
Whereupon some of them who were of great place and good learning,
set forth in print particular treatises with these newly conceived
means, showing how we ought to write, and so to write correctly.
But their good hope, by reason of their strange means, had the
same result that the despair of the others had, either from their
misconceiving the things at first, or from their diffidence at the
last.
The causes why their plans did not take effect, and thus in part
hindered the thing, by making many think the case more desperate
than it really was, were these. The despair of those who thought
that the tongue was incapable of any direction, came of a wrong
cause, the fault arising indeed not from the thing which they
condemned as altogether rude and incapable of rule, but from the
parties themselves, who mistook their way. For the thing itself
will soon be put into order, though it requires some diligence and
careful consideration in him that must find it out. But when a
writer takes a wrong principle quite contrary to common practice,
where trial must be the touchstone, and practice must confirm the
means which he conceives, is it any marvel if the use of a tongue
resist such a means, which is not in conformity with it? From
this proceeded the despair of hitting aright, because they missed
their intention, whereas in reality they should have changed their
intention, in order to hit upon the right, which is in the thing
and will soon be found out, if it be rightly sought for.
Again, the hope of the others deceived them too quite as much.
For they did not consider that whereas common reason and common
custom have been long engaged in seeking out their own course,
they themselves will be councillors, and will never yield to any
private conception, which shall seem evidently either to force them
or cross them, in acting as they themselves do, never giving any
precept how to write correctly, till they have railed at custom
as a most pernicious enemy to truth and right, even in the things
where custom has most right, if it has right in any. Therefore when
they proceeded in an argument of custom, with the enmity of him
who is Lord of the soil, was it any wonder if they failed of their
purpose, and hindered the finding out of our correct writing, which
must needs be compassed by the consent of custom and the friendship
of reason? So in the meantime, while despair deceives the one,
and hope beguiles the other, the one missing his way, the other
making a foe, and both going astray, they both lose their labour,
and hinder the finding out of the best mode of writing, because the
true method of finding out such a thing has another course, as I
have shown before.
Yet notwithstanding all this, it is very manifest, that the tongue
itself has matter in it to furnish out an art, and that the same
means which has been used in reducing other tongues to their best
form, will serve this of ours, both for generality of precept and
for certainty of foundation, as may be easily proved on those four
grounds--the antiquity of our tongue, the people’s intelligence,
their learning, and their experience. For how can it be but that
a tongue which has continued for many hundreds of years not only
a tongue, but one of good account, both in speech and pen, should
have grown in all that time to some refinement and assurance of
itself, by so long and so general a use, the people that have used
it being none of the dullest, and labouring continually in all
exercises that concern learning, and in all practices that procure
experience, either in peace or in war, either in public or private,
either at home or abroad?
As for the antiquity of our speech, whether it be measured by the
ancient Teutonic, whence it originally comes, or even but by the
latest terms which it borrows daily from foreign tongues, either
out of pure necessity in new matters, or out of mere bravery to
garnish itself with, it cannot be young--unless the German himself
be young, who claims a prerogative for the age of his speech, of an
infinite prescription; unless the Latin and Greek be young, whose
words we enfranchise to our own use, though not always immediately
from themselves, but mostly through the Italian, French, and
Spanish; unless other tongues, which are neither Greek nor Latin,
nor any of the forenamed, from which we have something, as they
have from ours, will for company’s sake be content to be young,
that ours may not be old. But I am well assured that every one of
these will strive for antiquity, and rather grant it to us than
forgo it themselves. So that if the very newest words we use savour
of great antiquity, and the ground of our speech is most ancient,
it must needs then follow that our whole tongue was weaned long
ago, as having all her teeth.
As for the importance of our tongue, both in pen and speech, no
man will have any doubt who is able to judge what those things are
that make any tongue to be of account, which things I take to be
three--the authority of the people who speak it, the subject-matter
with which the speech deals, and the manifold uses which it serves.
For all these three our tongue need not give place to any of her
peers.
First, to say something of the people that use the tongue, the
English nation has always been of good credit and great estimation,
ever since credit and estimation in the course of history came over
to this side of the Alps, which appears to be true--even by foreign
chronicles (not to use our own in a case that affects ourselves),
which would never have said so much of the people if it had been
obscure, and unworthy of a perpetual history.
Next, as to the matter with which it deals, whether private or
public, it may compare with some others that think very well of
themselves. For not to touch upon ordinary affairs of common life,
will matters of learning in any kind of argument make a tongue
of account? Our nation then, I think, will hardly be proved to
have been unlearned at any time, in any kind of learning, not to
use any stronger terms. Therefore, having learning by confession
of all men, and uttering that learning in their own tongue for
their own use, they could not but enrich the tongue, and bring it
consideration.
Will matters of war, whether civil or foreign, make a tongue of
account? Neighbouring nations will not deny our people to be very
warlike, and our own country will confess it, though loth to feel
it, both on account of remembering the suffering, and of fearing to
gall our friends by vaunting ourselves. Now, in offering material
for speech, war is such a breeder that, though it is opposed
to learning because it is an enemy to the Muses, yet it dares
compare with any department of learning for the multitude of its
discourses, though these are not commonly so certain or useful
as learned subjects. For war (besides the many grave and serious
considerations about it) as sometimes it sends us true reports,
either privately in the form of projects and devices that are
intended, or publicly in events which are blazed abroad because
they have occurred, so mostly it gives out--I dare not say lies,
but--very incredible news, because it can hatch these at will,
being in no danger of control, and commonly free from witnesses.
Every man, moreover, seeks both to praise himself and to harm his
enemy, besides procuring some courteous entertainment by telling
what is not true to those that love to hear it. All these tales
about stratagems and engines of war and many other such things,
give matter for speech and occasion for new words, and by making
the language so ready, make it of renown.
Will all kinds of trade, and all sorts of traffic, make a tongue
of account? If the spreading sea and the spacious land could use
any speech, they would both show you where and in how many strange
places they have seen our people, and also let you know that they
deal in as much, and in as great a variety of matters, as any
other people, whether at home or abroad. This is the reason why
our tongue serves so many uses, because it is conversant with
so many people, and so well acquainted with so many matters, in
such various kinds of dealing. Now all this variety of matter and
diversity of trade, both make material for our speech, and afford
the means of enlarging it. For he who is so practised will utter
what he practises in his natural tongue, and if the strangeness of
the matter requires it, he who is to utter, will rather than stick
in his utterance, use the foreign term, explaining that the people
of the country call it so, and by that means make a foreign word an
English denizen.
All these reasons concerning the tongue and its importance being
put together, not only prove the nation’s exercise in learning, and
their practice in other dealings, but seem to infer--to say the
least--no base-witted people, because it is not the part of fools
to be so learned, so warlike, and so well-practised in affairs. I
shall not need to prove any of these positions, either from foreign
or home history, as my readers who are strangers will not urge me
for them, and those of my own nation will not, I think, gainsay
me in them, since they know them to be true, and may use them for
their honour.
Therefore I may well conclude my first position, that if use and
custom, having the advantage of such length of time to refine our
tongue, of so great learning and experience to furnish material
for the refining, and of so good intelligence and judgment to
direct it, have attained nothing which they refuse to let go in the
correct manner of our writing, then our tongue has no certainty to
trust to, but writes all at random. But the antecedent is, in my
opinion, altogether impossible; therefore the consequent is a great
deal more than probable, which is that our tongue has in her own
possession very good evidence to prove her own correct writing;
and though no man as yet, to judge by any public writing of his,
seems to have seen this, yet the tongue itself is ready to show
it to anyone who is able to read it, and to judge what evidence
is trustworthy in regard to the standard of writing. Therefore,
seeing I have proved sufficiently in my own opinion that there
is great cause why our tongue should have some good standard in
her own writing, and consider myself to have had the sight of
that evidence by which such a standard appears most capable of
justification, and am not altogether ignorant of how to give a
decision upon it, I will do my best, according to the course which
I said was kept in the first general refining of any speech, and
has also been transferred to every secondary and particular tongue,
to set forth some standard for English writing. This I will base
upon those notes which I have observed in the tongue itself, the
best and finest therein, which by comparison with themselves offer
the means of correcting the worse, without either introducing any
innovation, as those do who set forth new devices, or mistaking my
way, as those do who despair that our tongue can be brought to any
certainty without some marvellous foreign help. Thus much for the
material fit for art in our tongue; now for the objections which
charge it with infirmities.
Those who see imperfections in our tongue either blame certain
errors which they allege to be in our writing, or else they will
seem to seek its reformation. In pointing out errors they rail
at custom as a vile corrupter, and complain of our letters as
miserably deficient. In their desire for redress they appeal to
sound as the only sovereign and surest leader in the government of
writing, and fly to innovation, as the only means of reforming all
errors in our writing.
In their quarrel with custom they seek to bring it into general
hatred, as a common corrupter of all good things, declaring it to
be no marvel if it abuse speech, which in passing through every
man’s mouth, and being imitated by every man’s pen, must needs
gather much corruption by the way, because the ill are many just as
the good are few, and common corruption, which they term custom,
is an ill director to find out a right. Hereupon they conclude
that, as it seems most probable, so it is most true that the chief
errors which have crept into our pen take their beginning from
the sole infection of an evil custom, which ought not so much as
once to be named, for direction to what is right, in either pen
or speech, being so manifestly false, notwithstanding whatever
any writers, old or new, can pretend to the contrary. Then they
descend to particularities, proving that we sometimes burden our
words with too many letters, sometimes pinch them with too few,
sometimes misshape them with wrong sounding, sometimes misorder
them with wrong placing. And are not these marvellously great
causes of discontent with custom, which is the breeder of them?
And yet if good writers seem to favour custom, then the case is
not so clear as you take it to be, that it is nothing but a hell
of most vile corruptions; that it alone infects all good things;
that it alone corrupts correct writing. For if it were indeed only
this, they would not warrant it, and give it such great credit, as
I remember they do. Is there not, then, some error in the name,
and may not custom be misconstrued? For certainly these writers,
when they speak of custom, mean that rule in conduct and virtuous
life in which good men agree, and their consent is what these
men term custom, as they call that rule in speaking and writing
the custom wherein the most skilful and learned agree. And is it
likely that either the honest in act will mislead virtue in living,
or the learned will disapprove of correctness in writing? And,
again, those honest men who approve of custom in matters of life
complain very much of corruption in manners and evil behaviour;
and the learned men, who approve of custom in matters of speech
and pen, complain very much of error in writing and corruption in
speech; and both accuse the majority of people as the leaders to
error, and set down the common abuse at the door of the multitude.
And therefore it cannot be otherwise but that the double name is
what deceives. For those who accuse custom mean false error which
counterfeits custom, and is a great captain among the impudent for
evil and the ignorant for rashness, and yet has the chief part in
directing all. And those who praise custom mean plain truth, which
cannot dissemble, which is the companion of the honest in virtue,
and of the learned in knowledge, and directs all best. Now will ye
see? This mistermed “custom” in the pen is that counterfeit abuse
which was the only cause why the monarchy of sound, of which I
spoke before, was dissolved, and itself condemned by those wise
people who joined reason with sound; and the right custom which
writers commend so is that companion of reason which succeeded
in its place when the counterfeit was cast out. Now you see the
error. So neither do writers approve of such a corruption, nor is
custom your opponent, but both writers and custom, as well as you
and I will scratch out the eyes of common error, for misusing good
things and belying custom. If good things are abused it is by bad
people, whose misnamed custom is rightly named error. If words are
overcharged with letters, that comes either by the covetousness
of those who sell them by lines, or the ignorance of those who,
besides pestering them with too many, both weaken them with too
few, and wrong them with the change of force and position.
When they have dealt thus with custom, and with their opponents
(as they consider those who are really their friends) without
marking what their reasons are, or by whose authority custom is
established, which they so impugn by suggestion of a counterfeit,
then they begin to complain sorely of the insufficiency and poverty
of our letters. While these are as many as in other tongues,
yet they do not suffice, it is alleged, for the full and right
expression of our sounds, though they express them after a sort,
but force us to use a number of them, like the Delphic sword of
which Aristotle speaks, for many sounds and services contrary to
the nature of such an instrument, each letter being intended at
first for one sound. Thus it comes to pass that we both write
improperly, not answering the sound of what we say, and are never
like ourselves in any of our writing, but always vary according
to the writer’s humour, without any certain direction. Therefore,
foreigners and strangers wonder at us, both for the uncertainty in
our writing and the inconstancy in our letters. And is it not a
great shame that so able a nation as the English, who have been
of very good note for so many years, either should not notice, or
would not amend, in all this time the poverty of their pen, and the
confusion in their letters, but both let their writing thus always
run riot, and themselves be mocked by foreign people?
If foreigners do marvel at us, we may requite them with as much,
and return their wonder home, considering that they themselves
are subject to the very same difficulties which they wonder at in
us, and have no more letters than we have, and yet both write and
are understood in spite of all these insufficiencies, just as we
also write and are understood in this our insufficiency even by
their own confession. But the common use of writing among those
strangers, which agrees so with ours in our uncertainty, makes me
think that this complaint of insufficiency is not general either
with them or with us, but in both cases belongs to a few, who
objecting to what they know nothing of, and not observing what
they cannot, therefore blame what they should not. For if their
blaming upon good cause, and marking upon wise judgment concurred
with their number, though not so great, I should be afraid lest
they should have the better, because they were the fewer; but
being both the fewer and the weaker, they carry no great weight in
condemnation. Other folks also, who see something as well as they,
do not quite disapprove of all their disapproval, but desire some
redress, where there is good cause, though they may not agree as
to the means of bringing about the redress, nor yet admit that the
error is as great as these objectors pretend. For we confess that
this multiplicity and manifold use in the force and service of our
letters requires some distinctions to be known by, if general
acquaintance with our own writing do not help us to perceive in
use what we put down by use; but still we defend and maintain the
multiplicity itself, as a thing much used even in the best tongues,
and therefore not unlawful, even though there were no distinctions.
And again, we do not think that every custom is an evident
corruption, where the general usage of those who cannot be
suspected of writing with other than good judgment, lays the
groundwork for precept, as leading to the exercise of art, and
assurance to the pen. And we rest content with the number of our
letters. Some people in studying to increase this number, only
cumber our tongue, both with strange characters and with needless
diphthongs, forcing us away from what the general rule has won and
is content with. And why not these letters only? Or why may they
not be put to many uses? This paucity and poverty of letters has
contented the best and bravest tongues that either are, have been,
shall be, or can be, and has expressed by them, both in speech and
pen, as great variety and as much difficulty in all subjects as
possibly can be expressed or understood by the English tongue or
be devised by any English intelligence. The people that now use
them, and those that have used them, have naturally the same organs
of voice, and the same delivery in sound, for all their speaking,
that we English have, because they are men, just as we English
folk are; and they handed down the use of the pen to us, and not
we to them. And finding in their own use this necessity which you
note, they fled to that help which you think naught, and were bold
with their letters, to make them serve diverse turns, sometimes
with change, sometimes with some ingenious mark of distinction.
That this kind of distinction is enough, is known to all who are
acquainted with the foreign letters, and with those writers who
treat of them. Nor is there any difficulty which they are not
subject to, either in the same or in very similar things, just as
we are. And will strangers wonder at us? Or do not those of our own
people who are learned perceive these things? For in the ignorant I
require no such discretion. I certainly think that all people, as
they have the same natural organs to speak by, though from habit
some may harp more on one sound than on others, and some--even
whole nations--may lean more upon one organ, such as the throat
or the teeth, than others do, yet naturally all are made able to
sound all kinds of speech and all letters, if they are accustomed
to them at the most fitting age and by the best means. I hold also
that it is only education and custom that make the difference, and
therefore rule all, or at least most, in speech, wherein if there
be any reason, it is not natural and simple, as in things, but
artificial and compound, based upon such and such a cause in custom
and consent. And though the Hebrew grammarians alone divide their
letters according to the vocal organs on which they lean most, such
as the throat, the roof of the mouth, the tongue, the lips, or the
teeth, yet not the Hebrews alone have that distinction in nature,
but every people which has throat, teeth, palate, tongue, lips, and
with those organs use the utterance of sounds. This is an argument
to me, both that use is the mistress, and that he who sounds on any
one method by the usage of his country, may be smoothed to some
other by the contrary use, and that therefore the same letters will
serve all people, if they choose to frame themselves accordingly.
For, otherwise, why do we persuade our people to sound Latin in
one way, Greek in another, Hebrew in another, Italian in another,
if it is not a thing that we can become acquainted with through
customary usage? And this being so in all nations, what need have
we for more letters to utter our minds, seeing that the organs of
utterance are all one, and that nothing can be uttered either more
diverse or difficult than those have uttered from whom we have the
letters we possess? Nor is it any discredit to our people to rest
content with those letters, and with that number, which antiquity
has approved and held for sufficient. Is nature, therefore, which
was fruitful in them, now so barren that we may not invent, and add
something to theirs? No, forsooth. All mankind is one, without any
respect of this or that age, both to nature herself, and to the
God and Lord of nature, and therefore what is given to one man, or
delivered in one age of common service, is meant for all men and
all ages, and always for their benefit; nor is either God himself,
or nature his minister, tied to any time for the delivery of their
gifts, but whenever man’s necessity compels him to seek, then they
help him to find. We understand, therefore, that as no one age
brings forth everything, so no one age can but confess that it has
some one or other particular invention, though not the self-same,
because it is enough to have received it once to use ever after.
So is it in this use of letters, which being once perfected is
never to be shaken, unless a better means be found of uttering
our speech, which I shall not see, nor can foresee by any secret
prophecy. In these inventions, though the first receiver have the
prerogative in taking, yet the whole posterity has the benefit in
using, and generally with greater perfection, because time and
continuance increase and prune, and when it is at the full, it
is a mistake to seek further, which I take to be the case in the
matter of penning. Nor is the restraint from innovating, altering,
or adding to things already perfected any discourtesy in reason, or
any discountenance in nature, but the simple delivery of a perfect
thing to our elder brethren to be conveyed unto us; as we in like
case must be the transporters to our posterity of such things as
it pleases God to continue by our means, whether received from our
elders or devised by ourselves.
But why may we not use all our four-and-twenty letters, even for
four-and-twenty uses each, if occasion serve, seeing that the
characters being known are more familiar and easier to be discerned
than any new device--yea, even though the old resembled each other
more, and there were but one new? It has been sufficiently declared
already, that those men who first devised letters, reserved the
authorities over them and their use to themselves for life, and
to their successors for ever, to modify and use them as it should
please them best by consent among themselves, as necessity arose.
And why not so, where the invention is their own, and the right
use of it? This general reservation is enrolled already in all
reason and antiquity, and the particular consent for the writing
of our language is given already by our general use, and will be
registered also in a very good record, I hope, and that shortly.
And will you make that sovereign which is but subaltern? Or will
you take that to be immovable like a steady rock, which roams by
nature, to serve the finder? There is no such assurance in sound
for the establishing of a right as you conceive, nor any such
necessity in letters to be constant in one use as you seek to
enforce.
The philosopher says that nature makes one thing for one use, and
that every use has its particular instrument naturally, but that
our own inventions--nay, that even the most natural means--may
through our application, serve for sundry ends and uses. And will
letters stand so upon their reputation as not to seem to admit of
our applying them to their own purposes, seeing that they are both
our creatures, and by creation our bondmen, both to sound as we
shall think good, and in as many ways as we may wish them to serve?
No, surely, they do not think so, but they are most ready to serve
as we appoint, both by creation and by covenant. The letters yield
readily, but some letters seek to delay their dutiful obedience,
holding that their substance is adamant, and that they were not
born to yield so.
With the same pen we make letters and mar them; with the same we
direct and destroy them; which are contrary uses, though meant to
compass the same right end. And will letters seem to serve but for
one use, being nothing but elves of the pen’s breeding? They will
not, but prove their own dutifulness to the pen, their parent,
by following his direction in very many points, as they yield to
reason and reasonable custom in many of their powers, whereby they
seem to argue against contention, they themselves being satisfied.
The number of things which we write and speak about is infinite,
yet the words with which we write and speak are definite and of
limited number. Therefore we are driven to use one and the same
word in very many--nay sometimes in very contrary senses--and that
is the case in all the best languages, as well as in English,
where a number of our words are of very various powers, as in
the sentence: “A bird flies light, wherever she may light,” and
many others that need not now be mentioned. And will letters
stand aloof, so as to sound always in but one way, and to serve
always but one use, where their great-grandfathers, even the words
themselves, are forced to be manifold--nay, are very well content
so to be, because of their founder’s command to be pliable, and
at the voluntary disposal of wisdom and learning? Letters must
not stand aloof, but approve of the service allotted to them, be
it never so manifold, seeing that without confusion, customary
acquaintance will make the distinctions clear; as a disputer will
sift out the difference of manifold words, so that the variety in
their senses may cause no quarrel in the argument.
If through want of skill and mere ignorance, we do not write always
in the same way, then knowledge is the helper, and he that will
follow the right usage must have the desire to learn aright.
If distinctions are wanted then accent must be the means of
avoiding confusion, or some such device which may serve the
purpose without pestering the writing by anything too strange.
For it is most certain that we may use our letters like all other
things whose end is the convenience of man. Nor is it any abuse
when those who use can give a reason that is sufficient to the
wise, and not contrary to good custom. And though some may not be
persuaded, yet when an act is passed by division of the house, it
is law by parliament. Then the objectors must relent and follow,
though they may not favour it. They must make the best of what
they thought worst, when lawful authority restrains their will. A
thing originally free, being once controlled by order, has lost its
freedom, and must then keep the current appointed for it, being
itself subject to man for his uses.
Our letters are limited in number, but their usage is certain
even in their greatest uncertainty, and therefore I take it that
we may rest content both with their number and with their use. So
much concerning the complaint of our poverty in letters, and the
confusion in their powers, which I do not wonder at, because I see
it so in all things; and I see no cause why we cannot overcome the
difficulty by our own inventions and devices, where we are to take
account of nothing but our own consent, guided by the judgment of
the wisest men, and imitation of uncorrupted nature.
If there be need, the increase in the number of our letters is
not refused to us any more than to other people, but the need
is denied, because we entered upon other people’s most perfect
inventions, and though this came later in time, yet it was so much
the surer, because all things necessary were devised to our hands,
and because our need can be no new need. Whatever we need to write
we are able to write, and when we have written it we are able to
read it. If there be any fault, the remedy must be, not to seek
what we have not, but to mark what we have, seeing that we have
sufficient.
The credit of sound being well established in their opinion, as
the natural lord and leader of all our letters, and custom being
condemned as a traitor, intruding against all right upon the
territory of sound, then they turn to the cure of this diseased
corruption, and pray Hippocrates to be judge. To amend that which
is amiss in the writing of our tongue, their ground-work being
laid in the shaken monarchy of deposed sound, they proceed in a
full course of general innovation, though some more and some less.
First, they increase the number of our letters and diphthongs, as
if it were not possible either heretofore to have written, or at
this day to write, any word correctly, for want of some increase
in the number of our letters. For as the overcharging of our words
with too many letters comes by using too much those which we have
already, so the difficulty through using them so diversely proceeds
from the mere want of material to answer each particular purpose.
Then they change the form of our letters and bring us in new faces
with very strange lineaments, how well-favoured to behold, I am
sure I know, and how unready for a penman to run on with, methinks
I foresee,--yet such readiness in the character to follow the
hand roundly is a special service belonging to the pen. Nor do I
myself in these observations so much regard what the print will
stamp well,--for it will express anything well whose form can be
imitated,--as what the pen will write well and that with good
dispatch, because printing is but a peculiar benefit for the few,
while writing is general and in every man’s fingers. A form that
is fair to the eye in print and cumbersome to the hand in penning,
will not pass in writing. To conclude, this, they say, is the only
help to amend all misses: for defect, to enlarge; for what is old
and corrupt, to bring in what is new and correct; need enforces
redress, and duty requires these changes.
Must we then alter all our writings anew? Or from what day is this
reform to take full place? It is a strange point of physic when
the remedy itself is more dangerous than the disease. Besides, I
take the alteration in this sort to be neither necessary, as there
is no such insufficiency, nor yet expedient, seeing that such
inconveniences follow. For speech being an instrument and means of
uttering what the mind conceives, if by the delivery of the mouth
the mind be understood, the speech is sufficient in fully answering
so needful a purpose. If writing, in which I include both the print
and the pen, so fully express the pith of the voice that the reader
may understand the writer’s meaning in full, I cannot persuade him
that the letters which he reads are not sufficient to express the
writer’s meaning, as he is ready to confute this by the proof that
he understands it most completely.
But these objectors will say that this understanding comes, not
through the writing, but by the intelligent reader, who understands
correctly by means of the so usual, though so corrupt, writing,
which is imperfectly and improperly written, and that propriety in
using the pen is wrongly refused, when it may be had easily with
very small effort.
I like the reason well, as I admit some imperfection. But neither
is the imperfection so great as they conceive, nor is their reason
so near to redress as they think. As for the imperfection, how it
comes and how to help it, my whole labour will prove that in the
sequel. As for their reason, I cannot see that it would be a small
effort, because they alter entirely, or at least they quite change
the superficial appearance, which in this case, where propriety in
writing is the possession of custom, would be too great a strain.
For custom, being so secure, will not be content to be overruled in
his own province, or to admit the claim of any reform where he is
proprietor, however private men’s notions, upon never so probable
appearances, may offer support to the contrary side.
The use and custom of our country has already chosen a kind of
penning, in which she has set down her religion, her laws, her
private and public dealings; every private man has, with the
approval of his country, so drawn his private writings, his
evidence, his letters, that the thing seems impossible to be
removed by so strong an alteration, though it be most willing to
receive some reasonable pruning, so that the substance may remain,
and the change take place in such points only as may please without
novelty, and profit without forcing. For were it not in good sooth
too violent a step to offer to overthrow a custom so generally
received, so definitely settled--nay, grounded so securely as shall
shortly appear--by altering either all or most of our letters? Were
it not a sign of a very simple orator to think that by so strange
an innovation he could persuade custom to divorce himself from so
long and so lawful a match? Nay, were it not wonderful even but to
wish that all our English scripture and divinity, all our laws and
policy, all our evidence and writings were penned anew, because we
have not that set down in writing which our forefathers meant, but
either more or less, owing to the insufficiency of our writing,
which is not able to set faithfully and fully down what the mind
conceives? They will say that they do not mean so radical a change.
But they must needs mean it, because it must either follow at once
upon the admitting of this new alteration, which is too great in
sense, or, after a term of years, which is too great in thought.
For with a new writing coming in, and the old character growing
out of knowledge, all records of whatever kind must needs either
come over to the new fashion, or remain worm-eaten like an old
relic, to be read as the Roman religion written down under Numa
Pompilius was read by those of Cicero’s time, when every word was
as uncouth and strange as if it had come from some other world.
But am I not undertaking a needless task in disapproving what I
need not fear, because there is no danger in it, the very usage of
our country refusing it already? I grant I am. But yet I must say
something that I may not seem to contemn, since if I say nothing
my opponents may then seem to have said something. But certainly
I hold the thing to be much too cumbersome and inconvenient, even
though it were likely to be profitable, but where no likelihood of
any profit at all is in sight, and the change itself seems neither
necessary nor easy, I cannot approve the means, though I bear no
grudge to its proposers, who deserve great thanks for their good
intentions. For their labour is very profitable to help forward
some redress, though they themselves have not hit on it. For while
different men attempt to solve the problem, some one or other will
hit it at last, whereas the case would be desperate if it were
never dealt with. But this amendment of theirs is too far-fetched,
and without its help we understand our print and pen, our evidence,
and other writing. And though we grant some imperfection, as in
a tongue not yet fully developed, yet we do not admit that it is
to be perfected either by altering the form or by increasing the
number of our familiar letters, but only by observing where the
tongue by her ordinary custom yields to the refining process, as
the old, and therefore the best, method leads us. For it is no
argument, when faults are found, to say this is the help, and
only this, because no other is in sight. But whenever the right
is found by orderly seeking, then the argument is true, that it
was not thoroughly sought, when it was denied to exist. And to
speak impartially between the letter and sound on the one side,
and custom and the letter on the other side, letters can express
sounds with all their joints and properties no more fully than the
pencil can the form and lineaments of the face, whose merit is not
life but likeness; for the letters, though they yield not always
what sound exactly requires, give always the nearest, and custom
is content with this. And therefore if a letter do not sound just
as you wish, yet hold it as the next best, lest if you change you
come not so near. And though one letter be used in diverse, or
even contrary sounds, you cannot avoid it by any change, seeing
that no other has been liked hitherto but this which we use.
Certainly, so far as I have observed, we are as well appointed for
our necessity in that way, and as much bound to our general custom
for the artificial tones of our natural tongue as any other nation
is to any other language, whether ancient in books or modern in
speech. And whatever insufficiency seems to be in its writing, it
will excuse itself, and lay the whole blame upon the insufficient
observer for not seeking the solution in the right way. This will
be found true, when it shall be seen that by sufficient care it may
be made clear and pure without any foreign help, and without either
altering the form or increasing the number of our ordinary letters,
but only by notes of its own breeding, which, being already in use,
desire nothing else but some direction from art. This I am in good
hopes of performing, according to the plan of the best refiners in
the most refined tongues, with such consideration as either breeds
general rules, or else must bear with particular exceptions. I will
mark what our customary writing will yield us in the way of notes,
without dreaming of change, which cannot stem so fatal a current
as custom runs with. I will therefore do my best to confirm our
custom in his own right, which will be easily obtained, where men
are acquainted with the matter already, and would be very glad
to see wherein the correct manner of their writing stands, and a
great deal more glad to find it so near when they thought it to be
further off. Thus have I run through these alleged infirmities in
our tongue, whose physicking I like not this way, and therefore I
will join close with my own observation to see if that will help.
Those men who will give any certain direction for the writing of
any tongue, or for anything else that concerns a tongue, must
take some period in its history, or else their rules will prove
inapplicable. For every tongue has a certain ascent from the lowest
to the highest point, and a descent again from the highest to the
lowest; and as in the ascent it has not reached a secure position,
because it is not thoroughly reduced to art, so in the descent it
comes to be not worth noting, because it gets rude again, and in
a manner withered. Hence it comes that the age of Demosthenes is
the prince of Greece, as that of Cicero is the flower of Rome, and
if the languages of these countries had not been committed to the
security of books, they would have been of little worth; nay, they
would have been forgotten altogether, long before our day, as the
spoken tongues of those nations, changing continually since the
periods named, are now quite altered, or at least are nothing like
what they were in their prime, though still blooming in another
form. So that books give life where bodies bring only death.
Consider the Greek and Latin writers before the ages of those men,
and by comparing them with these, you will see the difference that
I spoke of, the earlier being too rude to be brought under rule,
and the later departing from established rules and yielding to
change. This period of full development, with the ascent to it and
the decline leading to decay, shows us that everything belonging
to man is subject to change, the language changing also, but never
dying out. It must needs be therefore that there is something of
the nature of a soul in every spoken tongue that feeds this change
even with perceptible means. For if any tongue be fixed, and free
from movement, it is enshrined in books, not subject to ordinary
use, but made immortal by the register of memory.
This secret mystery, or rather quickening spirit, that dwells
in every spoken tongue, and therefore in our own, I call
“prerogative,” because when sound has done his best, when reason
has said his best, and when custom has carried into effect what
is best in both, this prerogative will resist any of them, and
take exception to all their rules, however general and certain.
It thus makes way for a new change, which will follow at some
stage of the language, if the writer’s period be chosen at the
best. I cannot compare this customary prerogative in speech to
anything better than to those who devise new garments, and are
left by law to liberty of device. Hence it comes in the matter
of apparel, that we do not remain like ourselves for any length
of time, though what is most seemly, like a rule of art, pleases
the wisest people best. From this same liberty of speech to
carve out a way for itself, come the exceptions to our general
rules. Hence it comes that _enough_, _bough_, _tough_, and such
other primitives are so strangely written, and more strangely
sounded. In this way prerogative seems to be like quicksilver,
ever stirring and never settled, though the general custom always
offers itself to be ordered by rule, as a close friend to reason.
This stirring quintessence, leading to change in a thing that
is naturally changeable and not blameworthy for changing, some
not very well-advised people consider as an error, and a private
misuse, contrary to custom, because it seems to be a very imperious
controller, but in this they are deceived. For indeed, though this
prerogative, by opposition in particular cases, checks general
conclusions, yet that opposition came not from individual men; it
is a private thing itself, and the very life-blood which preserves
tongues in their best natural form, from the first time that they
grew to be of any account till they come to decay, and begin a new
period, different from the old, though excellent in its kind, which
in its turn must give way to another when the time is ripe.
I take this present period of our English tongue to be its very
height, because I find it as excellently refined, both in its
general substance and in its customary writing, as either foreign
workmanship can give it gloss, or home-wrought handling can give
it grace. When the period of our nation which now uses the tongue
so well is dead and departed, another will succeed, and with the
people the tongue will alter. A later period may in its full
harvest prove comparable to the present, but surely this which
we now have seems to be at its best and bravest, and whatever
may become of the English State, the English tongue cannot prove
fairer than it is at this date, if it may please our learned class
to think so of it, and to bestow their labour on a subject so
capable of adornment, and so fitting to themselves. The force of
prerogative is such that it cannot be disobeyed, though it seems to
derange some well-ordered rule, and make people wonder who do not
weigh the cause.
For this reason, when any case arises quite contrary to the common
precept, though not to the common custom, then we must needs think
of the power of prerogative, a great princess in influence, and a
parent to corruption, but intending to raise another Phœnix from
the former ashes. He who refuses to grant such a prerogative to any
tongue, denies it life, unless he means, by registering some period
in it of most excellent note, to restrain prerogative, and preserve
the tongue, which he secures by writing from being profaned by
the people; it becomes then a learned tongue and exempt from
corruption, as our book-languages are, whose rules are so secure
that they dream of no change. This prerogative and liberty which
the nation has, to use both speech and pen at will, is the cause
why English writers are finer now than they were some hundred years
ago, though some antiquary may consider the old writing finer. But
the question is wherein fineness consists. So was Sallust deceived
among the Romans, living with Cicero, and writing like ancient Cato.
In this prerogative of writing, the very pen itself is a great
influence and has marvellous authority, for being the secretary
who carries out what is expressed by the intelligence, it presumes
upon this to venture, as far as any counsellor may, though never
against reason, whose instrument it is to satisfy the eye as the
tongue satisfies the ear. Custom, whose charge prerogative is, as
the pen is his conveyer, favours the pen very greatly and will not
hesitate to maintain that a dash with a pen may hold for a warrant,
when both speed and grace bid the pen be bold. Hence it comes that
in our language so many z’s are heard, and so few seen, owing to
the regard for dexterity and speed in the fluency of writing; and
as the pen can do this, I take it as a matter of prerogative, for
the sake of smoothness, that our tongue uses _z_ so much for _s_.
But it may be said that all our exceptions, due to most reasonable
prerogative, may well be reduced to a general form, which I do not
at all deny, though I see some difficulty in altering what our
custom has thus grasped, and it were almost too much to require any
wise and learned man so to arrest exceptions, particularly where
no standard can be fixed. He who wishes this seems to conceive of
such a thing, but even if it were attempted, the stream of custom
would break out again immediately in some other way, and cause an
even greater gap, for no banks can keep it in so narrowly but those
that are content to be sometimes overflowed, and no strength can
withstand such a current but those stays which in the fury of water
will bend like a bulrush.
If any pen, either through ignorance or pretension, offend against
reason, and intrude upon prerogative, that is no good quill, and it
will not be upheld by me; nor is that current to be called _custom_
which holds by usurpation; nor is that cause to be accounted
_reason_ which has any other beginning than genuine knowledge, or
any other ending than the nature of the thing will seem to admit.
Certainly, when I consider the matter deeply--and my thoughts on
it have not been slight or superficial--I cannot see why, when the
imperfections are removed that always accompany perfection, and
can easily be removed, to the satisfaction of the wise who are not
blinded with their own habits, the tongue as well as the pen may
not quite well have its prerogative, since our custom has become
so well-ordered that it may be ruled without chopping or changing
a single letter, or otherwise begging more aid from foreign
invention than I have already sufficiently set down.
These are my suggestions for the regulation of our tongue and the
fixing of a standard in its writing. If I have in any way hit the
mark, I shall be warranted by the right, though it may not seem so
to some, and in this I must be comforted, even if I cannot content
all.
THE PERORATION.
_To my gentle readers and fellow-countrymen, wherein many things
are handled concerning learning in general, and the nature of
the English and foreign tongues, besides some particular remarks
about the writing of books in English._
My fellow-countrymen and gentle readers, my first purpose in taking
up this subject, and venturing into print, of which till lately I
have stood in awe, was to do some good in the profession in which
I have for many years been engaged, and by giving my experience in
the teaching of the learned tongues, to lighten the labour of other
men, because I had discovered some defects that required a remedy.
But the consideration of these led me a great deal further than
I dreamed of at first. Intending to deal only with the teaching
of languages in the Grammar School, I was enforced by the sway
of meditation to think of the whole course of learning, and to
consider how every particular thing arose in a definite order. For
without that consideration how could I have discerned where to
begin and where to end, in any one thing that depends on a sequel
and proceeds from a principle? For the subject I am dealing with
is a matter of ascent, where every particular that goes before has
continual reference to what comes after, if the whole scheme is
scientifically arranged. In this course of mine, the elementary
principles may be compared to the first groundwork, the teaching of
tongues to the second storey and the after-learning to the upper
buildings. Now as in architecture and building he were no good
workman who did not plan his framework so that each of the ascents
should harmonise with the others, so in the stages of learning it
were no masterly part not to show a similar care, and that cannot
be done till the whole is thought of and thoroughly shaped in the
mind of him who undertakes the work.
After I had formed an opinion both as to where lay the blemishes
which disfigured learning and as to how they might be redressed,
as well for my own practice as by way of advice to others, I came
down to particulars and began to examine even from the very first
what went before the tongues in the orderly upbringing of children.
This was the first task that claimed me before I fell to further
thoughts and the last too, even when I had considered all that
followed, but it was then undertaken more advisedly. I entered upon
an investigation into the whole early training all the more readily
because I perceived great backwardness in the learning of tongues
through infirmities in the elementary groundwork. What a toil it
is to a grammar master when the young child who is brought to him
to teach, has no foundation laid on which anything can be built! I
undertook, therefore, to enquire into all those things that concern
the elementary training, as a stage in teaching preceding the study
of grammar, hoping by my own labour to be of use to a multitude of
masters. Moreover, as this matter concerns learners who have not
yet entered upon Latin, and teachers who may have only mediocre
learning, I thought it best to publish in the tongue that is common
to us all, both before and after we learn Latin.
But here there are three questions that may perhaps be asked:
First, what those blemishes are which I observed in the main body
of learning, a subject so closely investigated in our day by such a
variety and excellence of learned wits that every branch of it is
thought to have recovered the consideration it had at its highest
point; secondly, why in regard to methods of teaching I do not
content myself with following the precedent of other writers, who
in great numbers have written learned treatises with the same end
in view, but rather toil myself with a private labour, the issue of
which is uncertain, whereas the previous writers on the subject,
being themselves learned, and having achieved success, may be
followed with assurance; thirdly, if it is my endeavour to handle
a learned subject in the English tongue, why I take so much pains
and such a special care in handling it, that the weaker sort, whose
benefit I profess to consider--nay, often others also of reasonable
study--can with difficulty understand the couching of my sentence
and the depth of my meaning.
While I answer these questions, I must pray your patience, my good
masters, because the things may not be lightly passed over, and in
satisfying your demands I shall pave the way for the suit I have to
make to you.
First, as for my general care for the whole course of learning, I
have thus much to say. The end of every individual man’s doings
for his own advantage, and the end of the whole commonweal for the
good of us all, are so much alike in aspect, and so entirely the
same in nature, that when the one is seen the other needs little
seeking. Each individual man labours in this world in order to win
rest after toil, to have ease after work; he does not wish to be
always engaged in labour, which would be exceedingly irksome if it
were endless. The soldier fights in his own intention perhaps to
gain ease through wealth, which he may win by spoil; in outward
appearance he labours for the advantage of his country by way of
defence and security. The merchant traffics in his own intention
to procure personal ease through private wealth; to the public
he seems to labour for the common benefit, by supplying wants in
necessary wares for general use. Indeed, all men, whatever be their
occupation, while seeking private ends in their actions, at the
same time concur in serving general ends. Thus it appears that ease
after labour is the common aim of both private and public efforts,
because everyone in the natural course of his whole conduct has
regard to the general prosperity and quiet, which maintain his own
personal well-being. Then the means both of coming by this end,
and when it is come by, of maintaining it in state, must needs lie
in such directions as make for the peace and quietness of a State,
for the keeping of concord and agreement without any main public
breach, both in private houses and generally throughout the whole
government. These peaceable directions I call, and not I alone,
by the simple name of _general learning_, comprising under it all
the arts of peace and the ministry of tranquillity--a matter of
great moment, being the only right means to so blessed a thing
as fortunate peace, imparting the benefit of public quietness to
every household, as a central fountain serves every man’s cistern
by private pipes, and if it be not sound, conveying the blemish
like the infected water of a fountain, or the corrupt blood that
escaping from the liver poisons the whole body. Even war itself, a
professed enemy to learning, because it is in feud with peace, may
by just handling be shown to work for peace at home by uniting the
minds of all against a common foe. By the employment of learning
in every department all princes govern their States; the general
control is exercised through grave and learned counsellors and
wise and faithful justiciaries, and the particular control, in
religion by divines, in the health of the body by physicians, in
the maintenance of right by lawyers, and so on in every particular
profession, from the greatest to the meanest, throughout the
whole government--a most blessed means to a most blessed end, a
learned maintenance of a heavenly happiness in an earthly State
of a heavenly constitution. Therefore, any error in this means is
an injury indeed, and deserves to be thought of as a hindrance to
peace, and a pernicious destroyer of the best public end, beginning
perhaps as a small spark, but always gathering strength by the
confluence of similar infection in some other parts, till at last
it sets all on fire, and bursts out in a confusion, the more to be
feared that it festers before it breaks into flame, and shrouding
itself under a show of peace, consumes without suspicion, and
escapes being brought to terms as a professed enemy. I may say that
in my reflection on this subject of the ascent of learning from
the elementary stage, I thought I found these four imperfections
in the whole body of learning--in some places an excess, in others
a defect, in others too great a variety, in others too much
disagreement. These are four great enormities in a peaceable means,
breeding great diseases, and bidding defiance to quiet, both within
the State in the governing direction, and outside it by evident
inflammation, and they are therefore to be thought of not only for
complaint in particular cases, but by magistrates in regard to
their amendment.
As for _excess_ I conceive that as in every natural body the number
of sinews, veins, and arteries to give it life and motion, is
definite and certain, so in a body politic the distributive use of
learning, which I compare to those parts, is everywhere certain.
And whatever is more than nature requires in either of them, as in
the one it breeds disease, so in the other it causes destruction
by breach of proportion, and so consequently of peace. In natural
bodies excess appears when one or more parts encroach on the others
and enfeeble them. In communities this excess in learning is to be
discerned when the private professions swell too much and so weaken
the whole body, either by the multitude of professional men, who
bite deeply where many must be fed and there is little to feed on,
or by unnecessary professions, which choke off the more useful, and
fill the world with trifles, or by an infinitude of books, which
cloy up students, and weaken them by an intolerable diffuseness of
treatment, fattening the carcass but lowering the strength of pithy
matter. Do not all these surfeits exist at this day in our own
State? Are they not enemies to the common good, being grown out of
proportion? Are they not worth consideration and redress?
I pass now to the question of defect. In a natural body there is
too little, when either something necessary is wanting, or what
is there is too weak to serve its purpose. And does not learning
show the same defects, disquieting to a State, when the necessary
professional men are wanting either in number or in worthiness;
where show takes the place of sound stuff; where in place of real
learning only superficial knowledge is sought, enough to make a
shift with; when necessary professions are despised and trampled
under foot, because the cursory student has to post away in
haste; when there is a lack of needful books to further learning,
and those we have are of little use owing to insufficiency of
treatment? This corruption in learning any man may see who desires
to seek out either the malady or its cure; it is a breach of
proportion, and therefore of peace, in a commonwealth, a pining
evil which consumes by starving.
As for diversity in matters of learning, I think that as
it proceeds from differences in ability, in upbringing, in
intelligence, in judgment, because these are much finer in some
than in others, it does a great deal of harm to the peace of any
State, especially where its leaders, though they may not fall out,
but merely express their opinions, yet divide studies according to
their favourites, considering the importance of the subjects less
than the attraction of the authors. If this diversity breaks out
in earnest, as it has frequently done in our time, while printing
itself, which in its natural and best uses is the instrument of
necessity and the exponent of learning, becomes very often too easy
an outlet for vaunting ambition, for malicious envy and revenge,
for all passions to all purposes, what a sore blow is given to
the public quiet, when the means to welfare is made an instrument
of distemper! For will not he fight in his fury who brawls in
his books? Do not those minds seem armed for open conflict--nay,
do they not arm others too by pressing enmity forward--which in
private studies enter into combats on paper; which by too much
eagerness make a great ado in matters better quenched than stirred
to life; which whet their wits beforehand to be wranglers ever
after, and as far as lies in them disturb the general welfare?
What I disapprove of is needless combats in learning; those that
are fruitful may go on, yet with no more passion than common
civility and Christian charity will allow. Excess overburdens,
defect weakens, diversity distracts, but dissension destroys. You
know yourselves, my learned readers, what a wonderful stir there
is daily in your schools, through diverging opinions in logic,
in philosophy, in mathematics, in physics. The lawyer generally
abstains from controversal writing, because he does not gain by
it what he seeks; pleading in the Common Courts offers a better
pasture for a lean purse than a busy pen. The dissension in
divinity is specially fierce, the more so because it often falls
out that the adversaries intermingle their own passions with the
matters they treat of. For while our religious doctrines sometimes
require defence, disputes might often be compounded, if men’s
feelings were as readily cooled as they are inflamed. But in the
meanwhile how greatly is the general peace disturbed by dissensions
that turn aside a worthy means, to maintain a wrong and become
a slave to some inordinate passion! I cannot enter fully upon
this subject, but touch upon it merely that my good readers may
understand how much my desire for the furtherance of learning was
increased after I had noticed these inconveniences, though at first
I meant only to help the teaching of the learned tongues. Agreement
among the learned is the mother of general contentment; by carping
and contradicting they trouble the world and taint themselves,
bearing all the while the name of Christians--a title which
enjoins us to avoid contention, even by the submission of those
who are wronged, and charges us to defend our religion, not with
passionate minds, but with the armour of patience and truth. These
were the blemishes which I saw by the way, and lamented in the body
of learning. The amendment which I desire rests upon two great
pillars--the professors of learning, who must give intelligence of
the error, and the principal magistrates--nay, even the sovereign
prince--who being God’s great instruments to procure quietness
for our souls and bodies, our goods and actions, must bring about
redress in so important a matter as the course of learning.
The prince may cut off what is in excess, make up what is
deficient, reconcile diversities, expel dissensions, by his lawful
authority for the general good; and everyone will submit, because
everyone is benefited. This, indeed, confirms Plato’s saying
that kings should be philosophers; that is, that all magistrates
should be learned. It is a great corrosive to the whole body of
learning, which is the procurer of peace, when those who have to
direct gain their wisdom only through experience. That is much,
but experience and learning together make the better equipment. It
is an honourable conception, besides that it tends to the general
good, for a learned and virtuous prince, assisted by wise counsel,
to reduce the number of those that follow learning, by some
principle of selection in every department, to decide what kinds of
learning are most useful to the State, and to appoint a reasonable
number of such books as have the best methods of treatment. The
final authority in regard to every profession has always lain with
the prince. Action has been taken before in all the directions
I have spoken of, both by consent of the learned and by command
of good princes. As our country is small, the thing could be
the more easily done; as our livings are limited, it is the more
needful; as the evil is great, we are the less able to bear it; as
our sovereign is learned, we shall be the readier to give ear; as
our people are of good understanding, they are the better able to
inform her. But as the physician does not thrive by the prevention
of disease, nor the lawyer grow rich by arresting contentions, nor
a divine prosper so much in a heaven where all is good as on earth
where all is evil, and as private profit will be followed, though
it bring confusion to the State, redress will not stir, because it
judges the world to be in some fault which it is loth to confess.
However, to secure some redress and help in this matter at the hand
of the ruler, is the duty of all who make a profession of learning,
if they will but consider the reputation of learning in our day,
whether from the contempt in which some professions are held, or
from a deficiency in those who enter them.
In the professors of learning, to whose solicitation this point
is recommended, two things are chiefly required. First, that with
minds given to peace they should study soundly themselves, and that
the matter be worthy and taken in due order. For sound learning
will not so soon be shaken at every eager point of controversy
as that which is shallow. Orderly progress gives security, and a
pacific temper furthers the end that is desired both privately and
publicly. The consent of the learned and their quiet inclination
are a great blessing to any Commonwealth, but especially to ours
in this contentious time, when overwhetted minds do very little
good to some worthy professions. The distracting division of
minds into sects and sorts of philosophy did much injury in the
countries where it befel, and those nations among which religious
dissensions arose have never been quiet since. The second point
required in a student is not to seek his own advancement so much as
that of the things he professes, and indeed the possession of these
things is the best means to advance himself, for, where ignorance
is blamed, knowledge is approved, even though the approver may not
be learned. He who studies soundly recommends letters by his own
example; he who solicits the help of those in authority advances
learning still further; he who uses his pen to strengthen the best
current of opinion proves the genuineness of his desire by his
own practice. In this last form my own labour seeks to recommend
uniformity, to strip off what is needless, to supply some defects,
to help everyone to as quiet a course as I can temper my style to.
The second question which I said might be demanded of me, why I do
not follow the precedent of those learned writers who have handled
the subject with great admiration may be very soon answered. I
admit that the number of those who have written upon the upbringing
of children might be considered sufficient, and I grant the
excellence of many of them, such as Bembus, Sturmius, and Erasmus.
But the situation is different. A free city and a country under a
monarchy are not in the same position, though they agree in some
general respects, in which indeed these writers do not dissent from
me. Nor do I fail to follow good writers, taking example from those
authors who taught all the later ones to write so well. I am the
servant of my country; for her sake I labour, her circumstances I
must consider, and whatsoever I shall pen I shall myself see it
carried out, by the grace of God, in order the better to persuade
others by offering the proof of trial.
The third question, as to my writing in English, and my being so
careful--I will not say fastidious--in expression, concerns me more
nearly, for it has some importance. It is the opinion of some that
we should not treat any philosophical subject, or any ordinary
subject in a philosophical manner, in the English tongue, because
the unlearned find it too difficult to understand in any case, and
the learned, holding it in little esteem, get no pleasure from it.
In regard both to writing in English generally, and my own writing
in particular, I have this to say: No one language is finer than
any other naturally, but each becomes cultivated by the efforts of
the speaker who, using such opportunities as are afforded by the
kind of government under which he lives, endeavours to garnish it
with eloquence, and enrich it with learning. Such a tongue, elegant
in form and learned in matter, while it keeps within its natural
soil, not only serves its immediate purpose with just admiration,
but in foreigners who become acquainted with it, it kindles a great
desire to have their own language resemble it. Thus it came to pass
that the people of Athens beautified their speech in the practice
of pleading, and enriched it with all kinds of knowledge, bred both
within Greece and outside of it. Thus it came to pass that the
people of Rome, having formed their practice in imitation of the
Athenian, became enamoured with the eloquence of those from whom
they were borrowing, and translated their learning also. However,
there was not nearly the same amount of learning in the Latin
tongue during the time of the Romans as there is at this day by the
industry of students throughout the whole of Europe, who use Latin
as a common means of expression, both in original works and in
translations. Roman authority first planted Latin among us here,
by force of their conquest, and its use in matters of learning
causes it to continue. Therefore the so-called Latin tongues have
their own peoples to thank, both for their own cultivation at
home and for the favour they enjoy abroad. So it falls out that,
as we are profited by means of these tongues, we should pay them
honour, and yet not without cherishing our own, in regard both to
cases where the usage is best and to those where it is open to
improvement. For did not these tongues use even the same means
to cultivate themselves before they proved so beautiful? Did the
people shrink from putting into their own language the ideas they
borrowed from foreign sources? If they had done so, we should never
have had the works we so greatly admire.
There are two chief reasons which keep Latin, and to some extent
other learned tongues, in high consideration among us,--the
knowledge which is registered in them, and their use as a means
of communication, in both speaking and writing, by the learned
class throughout Europe. While these two benefits are retained,
if there is anything else that can be done with our own tongue,
either in beautifying it, or in turning it to practical account,
we cannot but take advantage of it, even though Latin should thus
be displaced, as it displaced others, bequeathing its learning to
us. For is it not indeed a marvellous bondage, to become servants
to one tongue for the sake of learning, during the greater part
of our time, when we can have the very same treasure in our own
language, which forms the joyful title to our liberty, as the Latin
reminds us of our thraldom? I love Rome, but I love London better;
I favour Italy, but I favour England more; I honour the Latin
tongue, but I worship the English. I wish everything were in our
tongue which the learned tongues gained from others, nor do I wrong
them in treating them as they did their predecessors, teaching us
by their example how boldly we may venture, notwithstanding the
opinion of some among us, who desire rather to please themselves
with a foreign language that they know, than to profit their
country in their own language, which they ought to know. It is
no argument to say: Will you dishonour those tongues which have
honoured you, and without which you could never have enjoyed the
learning of which you propose to rob them? For I honour them still,
as much as any one, even in wishing my own tongue to be a partaker
of their honour. For if I did not hold them in great admiration,
because I know their value, I would not think it any honour for
my own language to imitate their grace. I wish we had the stores
with which they furnished themselves from foreign sources. For
the tongues that we study were not the first getters, though by
learned labour they prove to be good keepers, and they are ready to
discharge their trust, in handing on to others what was committed
to them for a term, and not in perpetuity. There can be no
disgrace in their delivering to others what they received on that
understanding. The dishonour will lie rather with the tongue that
refuses to receive the inheritance intended for it and duly offered
to it, and from this dishonour I would our language were free. I
admit the good fortune of those tongues that had so great a start
over others that they are most welcome wherever they set foot, and
are always admired for their rare excellence, disposing all men to
think little of any form of speech that does not resemble them, and
to rank even the best of these as marvellously behind them. The
diligent labour of the learned men of ancient times so enriched
their tongues that they proved very pliable, as I am assured our
own will prove, if our learned fellow-countrymen will bestow their
labour on it. And why, I pray you, should such labour not be
bestowed on English, as well as on Latin or any other language?
Will you say it is needless? Certainly that will not hold. If loss
of time over tongues, while you are pilgrims to learning, is no
injury, or lack of sound skill, while language distracts the mind
from the sense, especially with the foolish and inexperienced, then
there might be some ground for holding it needless. But since there
was no need for the present loss of time in study through labouring
with tongues, and since our understanding is more perfect in our
natural speech, however well we may know the foreign language,
methinks necessity itself calls for English, by which all that
bravery may be had at home that makes us gaze so much at the fine
stranger. But you will say it is uncouth; so it is, through being
unused. So was it with Latin, and so it is with every language.
Cicero himself, the paragon of Rome while he was alive, and our
best pattern now though he is dead, had great wrestling with such
wranglers, and their disdain of their natural speech, before he won
from the public of his time the opinion in which he was held by the
best of his friends then, and is held by us now. Are not all his
prefaces to his philosophical writings full of such conflicts with
these cavillers? English wits are very well able, thank God, if the
good will were present, to make that uncouth and unknown learning
very familiar to our people in our own tongue, even by the example
of those very writers we esteem so highly, who having done for
other languages what I wish for ours in the like case, must needs
approve of us, unless they assert that the merit of conveying
knowledge from a foreign tongue died with them, not to revive
among us. But whatever they may say to continue their own credit,
our fellow-countrymen cannot but think that it is our praise to
obtain by purchase and transplanting into our own tongue what they
were so desirous to place in theirs, and are now so loth to forgo
again; it is indeed the fairest flower of their whole garland, for
these tongues would wither soon, or decay altogether, but for the
great knowledge contained therein. If our people were not readier
to wonder at their workmanship than to take trouble with their own
tongue, they might have the same advantage. Our English is our own,
and must be used by those to whom it belongs, as were those others
that were ranked with the best.
But it may be replied that our English tongue is not worthy of such
cultivation, because it has so little extent, stretching no further
than this island of ours, and not even over the whole of that. What
though this be true? Still it reigns here and serves our purpose;
it should be brushed clean in order to be worn. Are not English
folk, I pray you, as particular as foreigners? And is not as much
taste needed for our tongue in speaking, and our pen in writing, as
for apparel and diet? But, it will be said, our State is no empire,
hoping to enlarge itself by ruling other countries. What then?
Though it be neither large in possession, nor in present hope of
great increase, yet where it rules it can make good laws to suit
its position, as well as the largest country can, and often better,
since in the greatest governments there is often confusion.
But again, it will be urged, we have no rare knowledge belonging
to our soil to make foreigners study our tongue as a treasure of
such store. What of that? We are able by its means to apply to our
use all the great treasure both of foreign soil and of foreign
language. And why may not English wits, if they will bend their
wills to seek matter and method, be as much sought after by foreign
students for the increase of their knowledge as our soil is already
sought after by foreign merchants for the increase of their wealth?
As the soil is fertile because it is cultivated, so the wits are
not barren, if they choose to bring forth.
Yet though all this be true, we are in despair of ever seeing our
own language so refined as were those where public orations were
held in ordinary course, and the very tongue itself made a chariot
to honour. Our State is a monarchy, which controls language, and
teaches it to please; our religion is Christian, and prefers the
naked truth to refinement of terms. What then? If for want of
that exercise which the Athenian and the Roman enjoyed in their
spacious courts, no Englishman should prove to be a Cicero or a
Demosthenes, yet in truth he may prove comparable to them in his
own commonwealth and in the eloquence that befits it. And why not
indeed comparable to them in all points that concern his natural
tongue? Our brain can bring forth; our ideas will bear life; our
tongues are not tied, and our labour is our own. And eloquence
itself is limited neither to one language nor to one soil; the
whole world is its measure, and the wise ear is its judge, having
regard not to greatness of state, but to the capacity of the
people. And even though we should despair of altogether rivalling
the excellence of foreign tongues, must our own therefore be
unbeautified? It should certainly strive to reach its best if I
could help. We may aspire to come to a certain height, even though
we can pass no further. The nature of our government will admit
true speaking and writing, and eloquence will be approved if it
gives pleasure and is worthy of praise, so long as it preaches
peace, and tends to preserve the State. Our religion does not
condemn any ornament of language which serves the truth and does
not presume overmuch. Nay, may not eloquence be a great blessing
from God, and the trumpet of his honour, as Chrysostom calls that
of St. Paul, if it be religiously bent? Those who have read the
story of the early church find that eloquence in the primitive
Christians overthrew great forces bent against our faith, and
persuaded numbers to embrace the cause, when the power of truth was
joined to force in the word. We should seek eloquence to serve God,
but shun it to serve ourselves, unless we have God’s warrant.
But will you thus break off communication with learned foreigners
by banishing Latin, and putting her learning into your own tongue?
Communication will not cease while people have cause to interchange
dealings, and it may easily be continued without Latin. Already
in some countries, whose languages are akin to the Latin, the
learned class are weaning their tongues and pens from the use of
Latin, both in written discourse and spoken disputation, to their
own natural speech. It is a question not of disgracing Latin, but
of gracing our own language. Why should we honour a stranger more
than our own, if the purpose be served? And although, on account of
the limitations of our language, no foreigner would seek to borrow
from us as we do from other tongues, because we devise nothing new,
though we receive the old, yet we ourselves gain very much in study
by being set from the first in the privy chambers of knowledge,
through the familiarity of our native speech. Justinian the
emperor said to the students of law, when he gave imperial force
to his Institutes, that they were most happy in the advantage of
hearing the Emperor’s voice at first hand, while those of earlier
times were delayed for four whole years. And does not our study
of foreign languages take us fully four years? If this were the
only hindrance indeed, and if we gained otherwise, we could bear
the loss. But it is not only time that is lost in studying foreign
tongues, though we must use them till we learn to do without them.
Who can deny that we understand best in our natural speech, seeing
that all our foreign learning is applied through the medium of our
own language, and learning is of value only in so far as it is
applied to particular uses?
But why not everything in English, a tongue in itself both deep in
meaning and frank in utterance? I do not think that any language
whatsoever is better able to express all subjects with pith and
plainness, if he who uses it is as skilful and well-instructed as
the foreigner. Methinks I myself could prove this in regard to the
most varied subjects, though I am no great scholar, but only an
earnest well-wisher to my own country. And though in dealing with
certain subjects we must use many foreign terms, we are only doing
what is done in the most renowned languages, that boast of their
skill and knowledge. It is a necessity between one country and
another to interchange words to express strange matter, and rules
are appointed for adapting them to the use of the borrowers. It is
an accident which keeps our tongue from natural growth out of its
own resources, and not the real nature of the language, which could
strain with the strongest and stretch to the furthest, either for
the purposes of government, if we were conquerors, or for learning
if we were its treasurers, no whit behind the subtle Greek for
couching close, or the stately Latin for spreading fair. Our tongue
is capable of all, if our people would bestow pains upon it. The
very soil of Greece, it is noted by some, had a refining influence
on Philelphus, who was born in Italy. Italy, says Erasmus, would
have had the same effect on our Sir Thomas More, if he had been
trained there. And cannot labour and practice work as great wonders
in English wits at home as the air can do abroad? Is a change of
soil the best or the only means of furthering growth? Nay, surely
wits are equally sharp everywhere, though where there is less
intercourse and a heavier climate, the labour must be greater to
make up for what is wanting in nature. If such pains be taken we
may boldly arm ourselves with that two-worded and thrice worthy
question--Why not? But grant that it were an heresy, seeing that
we are trained in foreign tongues, even to wish everything to be
in English. Certainly there is no fault in handling in English
what is proper to England, though the same subject well handled in
Latin would be likely to please Latinists. But an English benefit
must not be measured by the pleasure of a Latinist. It is a matter
not for scholars to play with, but for students to practise, where
everyone can judge. Besides, how many shallow things are often
uttered in Latin and other foreign tongues, which under the bare
veil of a strange form seem to be something, but if they were
expressed in English, and the mask pulled off so that everyone
could see them, would make but a sorry show, and soon be disclaimed
even by those who uttered them, with some thought of the old
saying--“Had I known, I would not!” And were it not better to gain
judgment throughout in our own English than either to lose it or
hinder it in Latin or any other foreign tongue? Such considerations
make me thankful for what we have gained from foreign sources, but
at the same time desirous of furthering the interest of my own
natural tongue, and therefore in treating of the first rudiments
of learning I am very well content to make use of English, without
renouncing my right to use Latin or any other learned tongue, when
I come to speak of matters where it may be suitable.
But while my writing in English may seem not amiss for the service
of my country, my manner of writing may offend some in seeming
fastidious and obscure, and I may be brought to task as failing in
what I professed, by dealing with matters too hard for the ignorant
to understand, or using too close a style and too rare terms for
plain folks to follow. All these difficulties are very great foes
to the perception of the ordinary man, who can understand only so
far as he has been trained, and they are no good friends to my
purpose, as I write for the benefit of the many, who are untrained
and unskilful. But although these objections make a very plausible
show, yet I must beg leave to plead my own cause in regard to
matter, style, and the use of terms. Indeed half my answer is
given when I say that I mean well to my country, for in attempting
difficulties one may claim pardon for defects, and what I do is in
the interest of our tongue, which I desire to see enriched in every
way and honoured with every ornament of eloquence, so that it can
vie with any foreign language.
But first to examine the charge of hardness in the subject-matter,
which the reader is said to have difficulty in understanding. In
what, I pray you, consists this hardness that is said to lie in
the matter? Or rather does not all hardness belong to the person,
and not to the thing, in this case as everywhere else? If the
person who undertakes to teach does not know his subject well
enough to make it properly understood, is the thing therefore
hard that is not thoroughly grasped? Or if the learner either
fails to understand owing to deficient knowledge, or will not
make the needful effort owing to some evil disposition, is the
thing therefore hard which is so crossed by personal infirmity?
Surely not. There is no hardness in anything which is expressed
by a learned pen, however far removed from common use, (though to
shield negligence the charge is often made), if the teacher knows
it sufficiently, and the learner be willing and not wayward. For
what are the things which we handle in learning? Are they not of
our own choice? Are they not our own inventions? Are they not
meant to supply our own needs? And was not the first inventor very
well able to open up the thing he invented before he commended it
to others? Or did those who received it do so before they were
instructed as to its use? Or could blunt ignorance have won such
credit in a doubtful case, though professing to bring advantage,
that it was believed before it had persuaded those who had any
foresight, by plain evidence that the thing was profitable, as well
for the present as for the time to come? If the first inventor
could both find and persuade, his follower must do likewise, or be
at fault himself; he must deliver the matter from the suspicion of
hardness, which arises from his own defect in exposition. If he who
reads fails to grasp the meaning through ignorance, he is to be
pardoned for his infirmity; if having some capacity he fails from
lack of will, he is punished enough by being left in ignorance;
and if while able to follow with the best he keeps with the worst,
blinded understanding is the greatest darkness, and punishes the
evil humour with the depraving of reason. If an expounder, such as
I am now, be himself weak, he is ill-advised if he either writes
before he knows, or does not mend when he has written amiss,
provided he knows where and how. Yet the reader’s courtesy is some
protection against error to him who writes, as the writer’s pardon
is a protection to him who reads, if simple ignorance is the only
fault, without defect in goodwill.
It will be admitted that hardness must arise either from the thing
itself or from the handling. If the thing itself is hard it must
be because it is strange to the reader, because it is outside of
his ordinary interests and occupations, or because he does not
give full study and attention to it. To illustrate the former
difficulty, what affinity is there, in respect of occupation,
between a simple ploughman, a wary merchant, and a subtle lawyer,
or between manual trades and metaphysical discourses, whether in
mathematics, physics, or divinity? Again, even to students who
profess some alliance with what they study, can anything be easy if
they have not laboured sufficiently in it? I need say no more than
this, that where there is no acquaintance in profession there is no
help to understanding, where there is no familiarity there is no
facility, where there is no conference there is no knowledge. If
the man delves the earth, and the matter dwells in heaven, there
is no means of uniting them over so great a distance. But when
the understanding, though in affinity, is clearly insufficient,
there is far more hardness than where there is a difference of
occupation, because a vain conceit brings much more error than
weak knowledge. Some good may come out of an ignorant fellow if
he begin to take hold, but the lukewarm learned mars his way by
prejudiced opinion. But in all this, if there be any difficulty
about the matter, its cause lies in the man, and not in the nature
of the thing. I am quick in teaching, and hard of understanding,
but towards whom and why? Towards him, forsooth, who is not
sufficiently acquainted with the matter in hand. Well, then, if
want of familiarity is the cause of the difficulty, acquaintance
once made and continued will remedy that complaint, if the matter
seem worth the man’s acquaintance in his natural tongue, for that
is a question in a vision blinded by foreign glamours, or if the
learner is really desirous to be rid of his ignorance, for that
is another question where a vain opinion over-values itself. For
in the case of a book written in the English tongue there are so
many Englishmen well able to satisfy fully the ignorant reader,
that it were too great a discourtesy not to lighten a man’s labour
with a short question, and an equally short answer. But where the
matter, being no pleasant tale nor amorous device, but a serious
and worthy argument concerning sober learning, not familiar to all
readers, or even to all writers, professes no ease without some
effort, then if such effort be not made an unnatural idleness is
betrayed, which desires less to find ease than to find fault. For
why should one labour to help all, and none be willing to help that
one? Nay, why should none be willing to help themselves out of the
danger and bondage of blind ignorance? If the book were all in
Latin, and the reader were not acquainted with a single word, then
the case would be desperate, but as it is, any man may compass it
with very little inquiry from his skilful neighbour. Therefore if
anything seems hard to an ignorant man who desires to know, and
fails owing to the unfamiliarity of the subject, he must handle the
thing often, so that it may become easy, and when a doubt arises
he must confer with those who have more knowledge. For all strange
things seem great novelties, and are hard to grasp at their first
arrival, but after some acquaintance they become quite familiar,
and are easily dealt with. And words likewise which express strange
matters, or are strangers themselves, are not wild beasts, nor
is a term a tiger to prove wholly untractable. Familiarity and
acquaintance will bring facility both in matter and in words.
If the handling seems to cause the difficulty, and if that proceeds
from him who presents the argument, not only in the opinion of the
unpractised reader, but truly in the view of those who are able to
judge, then such a writer is worthy of blame, in seeking to expound
without sufficient study; but if the defective handling is due not
to the writer, but to plain misunderstanding, then there is small
praise to the reader who misconstrues without regard to courtesy or
reverence for truth.
As for my style in treatment, if it be charged with difficulty,
that also proceeds from choice, being intended to show that I
come from the forge, being always familiar with strong steel
and pithy stuff in the reading of good writers, and therefore
bound to resemble that metal in my style. To argue closely and
with sequence, to trace causes and effects, to seek sinews and
sound strength rather than waste flesh, is seemly for a student,
especially when he writes for perpetuity, where the reader may
keep the book by him to study at his leisure, not being forced
either to take it all at once or forgo it altogether, as is the
case in speech. Discourses that are entirely popular, or are
written in haste for the moment, may well be slight in manner, for
their life is short; and where what is said is at once to be put
to present use, the plainer the style the more plausible it will
be, and therefore most excellent in its kind, since the expression
must be adapted to the immediate end in view, leaving nothing to
muse on, as there is no time for musing. But where the matter is
no courier to post away in haste, and there must be musing on
it, another course must be taken, and yet the manner of delivery
must not be thought hard, nor compared with others of a different
kind, considering that it is meant to teach, and can use such
plainness only as the subject admits of. Does any man of judgment
in learning and in the Latin tongue think that Cicero’s orations
and his discourses in philosophy were equally well known and of
equal plainness to the people of Rome, though both in their own
way are plain enough to us, who know the Latin tongue better than
our own, because we pore over it, and pay no attention to our own?
Certainly not, as appears from many passages in Cicero himself,
where he notes the difference, and confesses that the newness of
the subjects which he transported from Greece was the cause of
some darkness to the ordinary reader, and of some contempt to the
learned because they fancied the Greek more. Yet neither ignorance
nor contempt could discourage his pen from seeking the advantage
of his own language, by translating into it the learning which
others wished to remain in the Greek; he kept on his course, and
in the end the tide turned in his favour, bringing him the credit
which he enjoys to this day. And he himself bears witness that
the resistance he met with was due not only to the matter of which
he treated, but also to his manner of expression, and even to the
very words he used, which being strange and newly-coined were
not understood by the ordinary reader. “I could write of these
things,” he says, meaning philosophical subjects, “like Amasanius”
(an obscure writer of apophthegms) “but in that case not like
myself; as plainly as he, but not then so as to satisfy myself, or
do justice to the subject as I should handle it. I must define,
divide, distinguish, exercise judgment, and use the terms of art.
I must have regard as well to those from whom my learning is
borrowed, that they may say they meant it so, as to those for whom
it is borrowed, that they may say they understand it.”
The writer who does otherwise may be thought plain by those who
seek nothing far, but if those who call for plainness are always
to be pleased, and dealt with so daintily that they are put to
no pains to learn and enquire, when they find themselves in a
difficulty through their own ignorance; if they must be made a
lure for learning to descend to, rather degenerating herself than
teaching them to look up, what is the use of skill? He who made
the earth made hills and dales, heights and plains, smooth places
and rough, and yet all good of their own kind. Plainness is good
for a pleasant course, and a popular style is in place in ordinary
argument, where no art is needed because the reader knows none,
and the matter can be simply expressed, being indeed in her best
colours when she is dressed for common purposes. Likewise this
alleged hardness, though it belong to the matter, has its special
use in whetting people’s wits, and making a deep impression, where
what seems dark contains something that must be considered thrice
before it is mastered.
Labour is the coin which is current in heaven, for which and by
which Almighty God sells His best wares, though in His great
goodness He sometimes does more for some in giving them quickness
and intelligence, even without great labour, than any labour can do
for others, in order to let us know that His mercy is the mistress
when our labour learns best. But in our ordinary life, if carpeting
be knighting, where is necessary defence? If easy understanding
be the readiest learning, then wake not my lady; she learns as
she lies. If all things are hard which everyone thinks to be so,
where is the privilege and benefit of study? What is the use of
study, if what we get by labour is condemned as too hard for those
that do not study. I will not allege that the learned men of old
made use of obscure expressions in matters of religion in order
to win reverence towards a subject that belonged to another world
and could not be fully dealt with in ordinary speech, nor that the
old wisdom was expressed in riddles, proverbs, fables, oracles,
and mystic verses, in order to draw men on to study, and fix in
the memory what was carefully considered before it was uttered.
Are any of our oldest and best writers whom we now study, and who
have been thought the greatest, each in his kind, ever since they
first wrote, understood at once after a single reading, even though
those who are studying them know their tongue as well as we know
English--nay, even better, because it is more intricate? Or is
their manner of writing to be disapproved of as dark, because the
ignorant reader or fastidious student cannot straightway rush into
it? That they fell into that compressed kind of writing owing to
their very pith in saying much where they speak least, is clearly
shown by the comments of those who expand at great length what was
set down in one short sentence--nay, even in a single phrase of a
sentence. Are not all the chief paragons and principal leaders in
every profession of this same character, inaccessible to ordinary
people, even though using the same language, and giving of their
store only to those who will study?
But may not this obscurity lie in him who finds it rather than in
the matter, which is simple in itself, and simply expressed, though
it may not seem so to him? Our daintiness deceives us, our want
of goodwill blinds us--nay, our lack of skill is the very witch
which bereaves us of sense, though we profess to have knowledge and
favour towards learning. For everyone who bids a book good-morrow
is not necessarily a scholar, or a judge of the subject dealt
with in the book. He may have studied up to a certain point, but
perhaps neither hard nor long, or he may be very little acquainted
with the subject he is seeking to judge of. Perhaps the desire of
preferment has cut short his study when it was most promising,
or there is some other of the many causes of weakness, although
pretension may impose upon the world with a show of learning. Any
man may judge well of a matter which he has sufficiently studied,
and thoroughly practised (if it be a study that requires practice),
and has regarded in its various relations. A pretty skill in some
particular direction will sometimes glance beyond, and show a
smattering of further knowledge, but no further than a glance,
no more than a smattering. Therefore, in my judgment of another
man’s writings, so much only is just as I should be able to prove
soundly, if I were seriously challenged by those who can judge,
not so much as I may venture uncontrolled, in seeking merely to
please myself or those as ignorant as myself. Apelles could admit
the opinion of the cobbler, so far as his knowledge of cobbling
justified him, but not an inch further.
As for my manner of writing, if I do not meet expectation, I have
always some warrant, for I write rather with regard to the essence
of the matter in hand than to superficial effect. For however it
may be in speech, and in that kind of writing which resembles
speech, being adapted to ordinary subjects with an immediate
practical end, certainly where the matter has to stand a more
lasting test, and be tried by the hammer of learned criticism,
there should be precision, orderly method, and carefully chosen
expression, every word having its due force, and every sentence
being well and deliberately weighed. Such writing, though it may be
without esteem in our age through the triviality of the time, may
yet win it in another, when its value is appreciated. Some hundreds
of years may pass before saints are enshrined, or books gain their
full authority.
As for the general writing in the English tongue, I must needs
say that for some points of handling there is no language more
excellent than ours. For teaching memory work pleasantly, as in the
old leonine verses, which run in rhyme, it admits more dalliance
with words than any other tongue I know. In firmness of speech and
strong ending it is very forcible, because of the monosyllabic
words of which it so largely consists. For fine translation in
pithy terms I find it as quick as any foreign tongue, or quicker,
as it is wonderfully pliable and ready to express a pointed thought
in very few words. For apt expression of a good deal of matter in
not many words it will do as much in original utterance as in any
translation. This compact expression may sometimes seem hard, but
only where ignorance is harboured, or where indolence is an idol,
which will not be persuaded to crack the nut, though it covet the
kernel. I need give no example of these, as my own writing will
serve as a general pattern. No one can judge so well of these
points in our tongue as those who find matter flowing from their
pen which refuses to be expressed in any other form. For our tongue
has a special character as well as every other, and cannot be
surpassed for grace and pith.
In regard to the force of words, which was the third note of
alleged obscurity, there are to be considered _familiarity_ for
the general reader, _beauty_ for the learned, _effectiveness_ to
give pleasure, and _borrowing_ to extend our resources and admit
of ready expression. Therefore, if any reader find fault with a
word which does not suit his ear, let him mark the one he knows,
and learn to value the other, which is worth his knowing. Do we not
learn from words? No marvel if it is so, for a word is a metaphor,
a learned translation, something carried over from its original
sense to serve in some place where it is even more properly used,
and where it may be most significant, if it is properly understood.
Take pains to learn from it; you have there a means of gaining
knowledge. It is not commonly used as I am using it, but I trust
I am not abusing it, and it may be filling a more stately place
than any you have ever seen it in. Then mark that the place honours
the parson, and think well of good words, for though they may
be handled by ordinary, or even by foul lips, yet in a fairer
mouth, or under a finer pen, they may come to honour. It may be a
stranger, and yet no Turk, and though it were the word of an enemy,
yet a good thing is worth getting, even from a foe, as well by
the language of writers as by the spoil of soldiers. And when the
foreign word has yielded itself and been received into favour, it
is no longer foreign, though of foreign race, the property in it
having been altered. But he who will speak of words need not lack
them. However, in this place there is no further need of words,
to say either which are familiar, or beautiful, or effective, or
which are borrowed; nor is there need to say that in regard to any
ornament in words we give place to no other tongue.
As for my own words and the terms that I use, they are generally
English, and if any be an incorporated stranger, or translated, or
freshly-coined, I have shaped it to fit the place where I use it,
as far as my skill will permit. The example and precept of the best
judges warrant us in enfranchising foreign words, or translating
our own without too manifest insolence or wanton affectation, or
else inventing new ones where they are clearly serviceable, the
context explaining them sufficiently till frequent usage has made
them well known. Therefore, to say what I mean in plain terms,
he who is soundly learned will straightway recognise a scholar;
he who is well acquainted with a strong pen, whether in reading
authors or in actual use, will soon master a compact style; he who
has skill in language, whether old and scholarly or newly received
into favour, will not wonder at words whose origin he knows, nor
be surprised at a thought tersely expressed, in a way familiar to
him in other languages. Therefore, as I fear not the judgment of
the skilful, because courtesy goes with knowledge, so I value their
friendship, because their support gives me credit.
As for those who lack the skill to judge rightly, though they may
be sharp censors and ready to talk loudly, I must crave their
pardon if I do not bow to their censure, which I cannot accept
as a true judgment. Yet I am content to bear with such fellows,
and pardon them their errors in regard to myself, as I trust that
those who can judge will in their courtesy pardon me my own errors.
Those who cannot judge rightly for want of knowledge, but will not
betray their weakness by judging wrongly, if they desire to learn
in any case of doubt, have the learned to give them counsel. The
profit is theirs, if they are willing to take it, but if not, they
shall not deter me from writing, and I shall hope at length by
deserving well to win their favour, or at least their silence. In
conclusion as to the manner of writing and use of words in English,
this is my opinion, that he who will justify himself may find many
arguments, some closely related to the particular subject that may
be in question, others more general but likely to be serviceable,
and if in his practice he hath due regard to clear and appropriate
expression, then even though one or two things should seem strange
to those who judge, the writer is free from blame. As for invention
in matter and eloquence in style, the learned know well in what
writers they are to be found, and those who are not scholars must
learn to think of such things before they presume to judge, lest
by failing to measure the writer’s level, they should have no
just standard to apply. As for the matter itself which is to be
treated by any learned method, as I have already said, familiarity
will make it easy, though it seem hard, just as it will make the
manner of expression easy, though it seem strange, if the thing
really deserves to be studied, which will not appear until some
progress is made. And a little hardness, even in the most obscure
philosophical discussions, will never seem tedious to an enquiring
mind, such as he must have who either seeks to learn himself, or
desires to see his native tongue enriched and made the instrument
of all his knowledge, as well as of his ordinary needs.
But I have been too tedious, my good readers, yet perhaps not so,
since no haste is enjoined, and you may read at leisure. I have now
to request you, as I mentioned at first, to grant me your friendly
construction, and the favour due to a fellow-countryman. The
reverence towards learning which leads the good student to embrace
her in his youth, and advances him to honour by her preference in
later years, will plead for me with the learned in general, in my
endeavour to assert the rights of her by whose authority alone they
are themselves of any account. Among my fellow-teachers I may hope
that community of interest will help me more with the courteous
and learned than a foolish feeling of rivalry will harm me with
ignorant and spiteful detractors. Regard for my own profession, and
this hope of support from learned teachers, move me to lay stress
upon one special point, which in duty must affect them no less than
me, namely, the need for careful thought in improving our schools.
I say nothing here of the conscientious and religious motives that
influence us, nor of the need for personal maintenance that demands
our labour. But I would acknowledge the special munificence of our
princes and parliaments towards our whole order in our country’s
behalf, partly in suffering us to enjoy old immunities, partly in
granting us divers other exemptions from personal services and
ordinary payments to which our fellow-subjects are liable. These
favours deserve at our hands an honourable remembrance, and bind
us further to discharge the trust committed to us. I doubt not
that this feeling which moves me strongly, moves also many of my
profession, whose friendship I crave for favourable construction,
and whose conference I desire for help in experience, as I shall
be glad in the common cause either to persuade or be persuaded.
Of those that are not learned I beg friendship also, and chiefly
as a matter of right, because I labour for them, and my goodwill
deserves no unthankfulness. God bless us all to the advancement
of His glory, the honour of our country, the furtherance of good
learning, and the well-being of all ranks, prince and people
alike!
CRITICAL ESTIMATE.
CRITICAL ESTIMATE.
If the saying of Plato may be applied to another sphere, not very
far removed from civil government, we may believe that education
will never be rightly practised until either teachers become
philosophers, or philosophers become teachers. It is certainly
remarkable how seldom in the history of educational progress there
has arisen any writer whose authority was based alike on the
power of the abstract thinker to rise above the conditions of the
immediate present into the atmosphere of pure reason, and on the
instinct of the professional worker, whose conceptions of what is
possible have been chastened by direct experience of the actual.
Of the five classical English writers who have made any noteworthy
contribution to educational thought, all but one have failed to
gain a lasting influence, through the limitation in their outlook
caused by deficient practical knowledge. Ascham’s experience was
too exclusively academic and courtly to suggest much to him beyond
questions of method in the advanced teaching of Latin and Greek.
Milton’s vision, restricted by his short and partial attempt at
instructing a few selected boys, narrowed itself to one school
period of one rank of society of one sex, and his genius could not
save him from wild extravagance in his ideas of the acquirements
possible for the average scholar. The suggestions of Locke, while
in one aspect they were more comprehensive, are yet essentially
those of a theorist, who had never faced the difficulty that the
upbringing of a child by a private tutor is possible only to the
merest fraction of any population. Herbert Spencer, as the heir
of previous centuries, has naturally been able to command a wider
view, but even those who have gained most from his book, must
have felt that owing to his highly generalised mode of treatment
he has at many points failed to grapple with the problems that
chiefly beset the professional teacher. A little experience, like
a little knowledge, is a dangerous thing, and it may be that
those writers, all of whom claim to have made trial of the actual
work of education, would have been more convincing if they had
written from an avowedly detached standpoint. Richard Mulcaster
alone holds the vantage-ground of being at once a thinker and a
practical expert in matters of education. Nor does this mean only
that his right to speak with authority will for that reason be more
readily admitted; the evidence of his fuller equipment for the
task may be seen through the whole texture of his writings. He had
not Ascham’s ease in expression and charm of manner, nor Milton’s
commanding intellect and power of utterance, nor the fearlessness
and philosophic grasp of Locke, nor the encyclopædic knowledge and
acumen of Herbert Spencer, but he had beyond them all two essential
gifts that will in the end give him a unique place in the history
of our educational development--a clear insight into the realities
of human nature, and an enlightened perception of the conditions
that determine the culture of mind and soul.
To those who know little or nothing of Mulcaster such a claim
will seem extravagant, and it will naturally be doubted whether
any writer who deserves to be put upon so high a pedestal, could
possibly have remained so long in neglect. It may be rejoined that
in a subject like education many factors have a part in the making
of reputations. It is no mere coincidence that the authors named
above, whose views on education are so much more widely-known than
those of Mulcaster, all gained their chief fame in some other
sphere of thought; we read what they have to say on this subject
because it comes from writers who have caught the world’s ear in
some field of more general interest. This advantage is naturally
to be associated with gifts of expression such as Mulcaster
unfortunately possessed only in a very limited degree, though
his deficiency is due much more to the rudimentary condition of
English prose in general in the sixteenth century, than to any
lack of clear thinking on his own part. It is true, indeed, that
no fine sense of harmony in sound can be credited to a writer
who perpetrates such a sentence as--“I say no more, where it is
too much to say even so much in a sore of too much.” But even if
Mulcaster had spoken with the tongue of an angel, he would probably
have remained a voice crying in the wilderness, for the time was
not yet come. The ultimate value of Rousseau’s message to the world
in the realm of education was far less, but his unique powers of
persuasive eloquence, the fame he had achieved in other ways, and
the ripeness of the time, combined to give the later writer an
extraordinary influence. When Mulcaster’s judgments and suggestions
are studied from the vantage-ground of the present, and in a form
that divests them of adventitious difficulties of understanding,
they will be recognised as giving him a place of high importance,
not only in the chain of historical succession, but in the final
hierarchy of educational reformers.
It is necessary to take into account the state of opinion on
matters of learning and on the general conduct of life, in the
England of Queen Elizabeth’s day, before we can appreciate the
significance of our author’s thought. We must place ourselves in
the atmosphere of the Renascence and the Reformation, for although
these great movements, which represented the intellectual and moral
aspects in the awakening of modern Europe, had been some time in
progress, and had even given place to reaction in the countries
of their birth, their full influence did not reach our shores
till towards the close of the sixteenth century. The phase of
English national life represented by Mulcaster is that immediately
preceding the great expansion of conscious mental activity to
which voice was so memorably given by Spenser, Shakespeare, Bacon,
and their contemporaries. The prestige of Elizabeth, depending as
it did so largely on the secure establishment of the Protestant
faith, had not yet reached the height it attained through the
final repulse of Spanish aggression, but yet the power of the
crown retained much of the absolute sway over individual freedom
that had been built up and impressed on the popular imagination
by the earlier Tudors. It was not a time either of revolt or of
reaction. The more galling forms of political and intellectual
despotism had already disappeared in the general overthrow of the
medieval _régime_, and it was a more pressing question how to
maintain existing charters of liberty than how to extend them. This
conservative temper is to be discerned in all the purely English
writers of the period, though in the northern part of Britain Knox
and his companions were troubling the waters of controversy in a
more strenuous fashion.
Apart from the influence of an atmosphere of general conformity
to established authority and prevailing sentiment, Mulcaster was
constitutionally cautious. He was no zealot, defiant of opposition,
and careless of the esteem in which he might be held. His respect
for tradition, and, it must be added, his sympathetic instincts,
disposed him always to seek grounds of agreement rather than of
difference, to support his suggestions by the weight of authority
and precedent, to carry his readers with him by winning their
consent unawares rather than by startling them into reluctant
acquiescence through the use of paradox and exaggeration. Yet
there was no timidity or half-heartedness in his temperament. He
was profoundly convinced of the justice of his criticisms and the
value of his proposals, and he was not backward in urging his
views, in season at least if not out of season, on all who shared
the responsibility of rejecting them or giving them effect. He has
been accused, indeed, of overweening self-conceit, and it is to be
feared that this is the only persistent impression of the man that
remains with a number of those who know little of him beyond his
name. He has been cited as a classical example of the folly into
which a misplaced vanity can lead one who enters with a light heart
into the region of prophecy, that “most gratuitous form of error,”
on the ground that he believed the highest possible perfection of
English prose to be represented by the style of his own writings.
This conception, however, is due to a misunderstanding which it
will be worth while to remove. The remark that is quoted against
him occurs in the Peroration of the _Elementary_, “I need no
example in any of these, whereof mine own penning is a general
pattern.” Taken apart from the context, as it usually is, such
a sentence sounds fatuous enough, being naturally understood to
mean that Mulcaster thought he had nothing to learn from any
other writers, and had himself devised a perfect model of English
composition. But anyone who will take the trouble to read the
whole passage (p. 201) will see at once that the statement really
means, “I need give no example of any of these [idiosyncrasies
of our language, especially compactness of expression], as they
are sufficiently illustrated in my own writing.” This is a very
different matter, and though Mulcaster had little sense of style,
and was curiously mistaken in his idea that English prose had
no greater heights to reach than the standard of his own time,
the error was due to defects of literary taste and judgment, not
of character or temper. When his writings are taken as a whole,
they offer ample evidence that he was singularly modest in his
pretensions, losing all self-consciousness in his enthusiasm for
the causes he had at heart.
This attitude may account for the disposition in some quarters to
deny Mulcaster any special originality in regard to his leading
principles. But in a subject like education, which concerns so many
departments of life and character, what is the precise meaning of
originality? As the essential traits of human nature have remained
unaltered in the last two or three thousand years, except for a
slow development along lines in continuity with the past, it is
vain to expect that the broader truths which underlie the arts of
social improvement will be subject to any radical change. In such
matters we must build on the wisdom of the ancients, and the only
possible originality consists in discerning the new applications
that are suited to the present time and place. It is safe to say
that there is hardly a single educational doctrine that has ever
won acceptance, the germs of which are not to be found in the
writings of Plato and Aristotle. Yet every age and every country
must work out its own salvation by choosing, combining, and
applying to its needs the general principles that have been laid
down by those that came before. Such eclecticism, if it cannot
strictly be called originality, is at least the highest wisdom,
and he who first proclaims the doctrine as true for his own time
and place deserves the credit of the pioneer. The discoveries of
the Greek philosophers in social politics, if discoveries they
could be called, had to be made over again for the modern world,
and it may even be said that they had to be made independently for
each separate country. In the sixteenth century there was less
uniformity in political and social conditions, and less mutual
influence among the different States of Europe than there is now.
Although the English nation under Elizabeth could not remain wholly
unaffected by the more drastic changes of opinion and sentiment
that marked the course of the reforming spirit in Germany and in
Scotland, it certainly demanded a rare sagacity and independence
of mind, if not absolute originality, to discern how far the new
outlook could be shared by those whose experience had been less
revolutionary. To understand the value of Mulcaster’s work it is of
less moment to ask what may have been his indebtedness to Plato or
Quintilian, or even to Luther and Knox, than to consider whether
he had been directly anticipated by any of his own countrymen, and
whether he himself anticipated, if he did not influence, later
English writers on education.
A right estimate of Mulcaster’s temperament, and of his relation
to the surrounding conditions of thought and feeling, is due not
only as a matter of personal justice, but as affording a key to
a proper estimate of his writings. For these have a significance
beyond that of most works of the kind, in forming a somewhat
unique record of historical facts for a bygone period. The attempt
to trace the lines of progress by comparing one phase of culture
with another, has hitherto had imperfect success in the sphere of
education, for, like the arts of music and acting, it works in a
perishable medium, and makes a direct impression only on a single
generation. Even indirect testimony has until recently been almost
entirely wanting. To hardly any writer of earlier times has it
occurred to make any report of the actual conduct of teaching as
it existed around him, for the benefit of future ages. Those who
were interested in the subject have been more concerned to offer
speculative suggestions of reform that have apparently little
organic relation to the conditions of their own community. It is
not so much to the formal treatises of Plato and Aristotle that
we must look for such knowledge as we can obtain of Athenian
education in the fourth century before Christ, as to the incidental
references of writers who had no thought of conveying any definite
or detailed information on the matter. We find the same dearth
of evidence when we try to ascertain the actual working of
educational methods and organisation in the most advanced countries
of Europe during the two or three centuries that succeeded the
Renascence. The contemporary writers on the subject are for
the most part idealists; and while we gladly acknowledge their
services in that capacity, we must regret that to the visionary
outlook of the reformer they did not add the careful observation
of the historian. If Mulcaster is a noteworthy exception to this
rule, it is not because of set purpose he undertook the task of
record and criticism. It was no part of his plan to offer any
narrative or statistical report; indeed he expressly refrains from
commenting on the current practice of teaching, and alludes to
it only incidentally. His intention, as with the great majority
of educational writers, was to suggest improvements, to propose
an ideal; but his responsible position as a headmaster gave him
an ever-present sense of what was practicable, and enabled him
to base his efforts on the firm ground of accomplished fact.
His proposals are so evidently related to the existing state of
affairs that they may almost be taken as affording an historical
record of contemporary practice. The common-sense criticisms of
a shrewd observer like Montaigne, and the dreams of an idealist
such as Rabelais, have their own value; but we shall listen even
more readily to the words of one who speaks out of the fulness of
immediate knowledge, yet with equal power to rouse our aspiration
and energy.
Before considering Mulcaster’s contributions to the theory and art
of education strictly so-called, it will be well to glance at his
influence in the more general aspects of learning and literature.
He must be credited with an important share in the movement towards
the dethronement of Latin in favour of the vernacular tongues, as
the medium of communication in subjects hitherto held to belong
exclusively to the domain of the learned class. The initiative
in this matter goes back, of course, to the time of Dante, but
even with the examples of Italy, France, and Spain to suggest the
change, it was a distinct and difficult task to work it out for
our own language. Mulcaster was not the first Englishman to write
a book in his native tongue which everyone would have expected to
be written in Latin. Sir Thomas More, in some of his historical
and controversial works, Roger Ascham, and a few other writers of
lesser note, had anticipated him in practice, and had been more
successful in attaining a lucid and graceful style, but it may
fairly be claimed that Mulcaster was the first to give a reasoned
justification of the course he followed and recommended, and to
further the end in view by taking definite steps to elaborate the
means. Nor is it only for his service in helping to establish a
canon of literary English, and show the way to others by using it
himself to the best of his ability, that acknowledgment is due. It
was a still more conspicuous merit to see clearly, and to enforce
by these means, the truth that the increase of learning, and the
methods by which it may be furthered, are subjects of interest not
to any limited class alone, but to every member of the community.
There may be comparatively little present value in his judgments
as to the proper content of the English vocabulary, and the forms
of spelling which he thought should be made authoritative, but at
least it is noteworthy that, at a time when linguistic science was
at a rudimentary stage, he had reached a singularly just conception
of the essential nature of a language, and the conditions of its
growth and decay. The interesting allegory where he traces the
process by which speech came to be represented by written symbols,
proves him to have grasped the idea, only in later times fully
understood, that language, as a product of human activity, shares
in all the features characteristic of organic development.
It is not only the more formal aspects of language, moreover, that
he treats with discrimination. On the still subtler question of its
relation to thought and knowledge he speaks with a discernment far
beyond his time. The usurping tyranny of _words_ over the minds
of men, in place of the lawful domination of the realities they
symbolised, had in the movement of the Renascence changed its form
without relaxing its severity. If they were no longer so frequently
used as mere counters in vain disputations, they were yet apt to
be regarded with unreasoning idolatry, as the sacred embodiment of
the thoughts and feelings of settled forms of civilisation in the
past, exempt from any enquiry as to the conceptions they expressed.
Mulcaster does not share this illusion. In his view language is
primarily a means of communication, and though the acquirement of
foreign tongues may be a necessity for the time, yet they “push
us one degree further off from knowledge.” He may not have fully
realised the degree in which language is to be reckoned with as a
form of artistic expression and as an instrument of thought, though
his appreciation of the possibilities of the English tongue shows
that he did not forget these invaluable uses; but in any case he
saw clearly, and he was one of the first to see, that the crying
need of his time was to be set free from the despotism of words,
which made them rather a hindrance than a help to real knowledge.
“We attribute too much to tongues, in paying more heed to them than
we do to matter.” The bearing of this opinion on educational theory
will be considered presently, but it deserves to be noted at the
outset in evidence of the advanced philosophical standpoint of a
writer who belonged to the generation preceding Francis Bacon.
Mulcaster’s independence of conventional practice is further
set beyond doubt by his conception of the place of authority in
argument. Anticipating Locke in deprecating the constant use of
great names in support of a writer’s thesis, he is of course
laying down a principle now so universally accepted that it seems
unnecessary to refer to it, but those who are acquainted with
the Renascence writers of any country know how widely a slavish
regard for the opinions of the classical authors took the place
of a direct appeal to the rational judgment of the reader. It was
no needless service to assign limits to this controversial habit,
to discriminate between superstitious servility and justifiable
deference to previous thinkers, to call for a fearless statement of
the truth as it appeared to each new enquiring spirit, and claim
that it should be tested wholly by its conformity to reason and
nature and experience. Especially valuable for his time was his
insistence on the difference of circumstance between the ancient
and the modern worlds, and between the characters of the various
nations. He may seem to us to carry these distinctions to an
excess when in considering ideal types of human nature he takes
account of the form of government under which each individual has
to live, holding certain qualities appropriate to a monarchy and
others to a republic, but at least he laid a useful emphasis on
the relativity of progress, and on the need for harmony in the
component institutions of a particular form of society.
Another proof of Mulcaster’s general enlightenment may be found
in the fact that he was the first of his countrymen to affirm
seriously that education was the birthright of every child born
into the community. It is not intended to suggest by this that
he anticipated the full assumption by the State of the duty of
providing and enforcing universal education, but rather that he
desired to foster a public sentiment and social conditions which
would be favourable to the idea that the rudiments of learning
should by one means or another be distributed throughout the whole
body of the nation. Efforts in this direction had been made in
other countries under the levelling influence of the reforming
spirit in religion, but in England, where the change of faith
had been less associated with a democratic impulse, nothing had
as yet been done to popularise education in the proper sense
of the term, and public opinion had still to be prepared for
the movement. It is true that the sharp distinctions of rank
which the sixteenth century inherited from the Middle Ages were
never so absolutely marked in the sphere of learning as in other
departments of life. Though the child of lowly birth could never
become a gentleman, he could become a scholar. The helping hand
extended by the Church to the promising boy of low degree did
not, however, imply any relaxation of caste feeling so far as the
general supply of educational facilities was concerned. The humble
scholar was raised out of his own class, and was always regarded
as an exception. Taken in the mass, the gentry and the commonalty
were clearly separated, and no kind of training was thought in
any way due to the latter except such as might make them directly
serviceable to their betters. For the first notable attack on this
fundamental article of medieval faith, apart from the indirect
and interested claims of the Reformation leaders to the means of
influencing the young, credit is generally given to Comenius. But
it must be remembered that half a century before his time, and in
a country where the _régime_ of social status has always held a
firm position, a strong protest against educational exclusiveness
was raised by Richard Mulcaster, who maintained that the elements
of knowledge and training should be recognised as the privilege
of all, irrespective of rank or sex, and without regard to their
future economic functions. “As for the education of gentlemen,”
he writes, “at what age shall I suggest that they should begin to
learn? Their minds are the same as those of the common people, and
their bodies are often worse. The same considerations in regard to
time must apply to all ranks. What should they learn? I know of
nothing else, nor can I suggest anything better, than what I have
already suggested for all.” And his unwillingness to recognise any
kind of disability in matters of education, except what was proved
by the test of experience to be natural, is further shown in his
insistence that, as far as may be possible, girls should have the
same advantages as boys. Though, as he says, in deference to the
general feeling of his time and country he will not go so far as
to propose that girls should be admitted to the grammar schools
and universities, he not only wishes them to share in all the
opportunities of elementary education, but he wholly approves of
the ideal of higher culture for women, which was represented in the
attainments of Queen Elizabeth herself.
We may now turn to matters that are less the concern of the
philosophic thinker and social observer than of the expert in
educational practice. Let us first examine Mulcaster’s conception
of the content of a liberal education, from the two points of view,
as to how far it should embrace a culture of the whole nature,
and as to the proper range of distinctively mental studies. It is
a matter of history that in both these respects the Renascence
ideal had fallen away from the example of the Greeks. Intellectual
culture had to a large extent been dissociated from physical and
moral training. The life of the scholar was a thing apart from the
conception of chivalry, which encouraged the physical prowess and
regard to a code of honour that were developed by the military
class. The formal profession of a religious end in learning took
the place of a genuine cultivation of character, and while this
restricted path was open to the more gifted of the poorer classes,
the alternative ideal was reserved for the upper social ranks.
It is true that in our own country in the Elizabethan era there
was some reconciliation of these diverse aims in the persons of
such men as Walter Raleigh and Philip Sidney, but the type they
represented was quite exceptional, and had no apparent influence on
general educational methods. There was great need for Mulcaster’s
plea that in the upbringing of children we should return to the
ideal expressed in Juvenal’s familiar phrase, “mens sana in
corpore sano.” No stress need be laid on the particular forms of
physical exercise which he recommended. His suggestions here were
not original, and the present time has little to learn from the
physiological conceptions of the sixteenth century. But what was
really instructive in his own day, and is scarcely less so in
ours, is the intimate relation he conceived to exist between the
body and the mind--a relation that demanded a harmonious training
of the whole nature. “The soul and the body being co-partners in
good will, in sweet and sour, in mirth and mourning, and having
generally a common sympathy and mutual feeling, how can they be,
or rather why should they be, severed in education?... As the
disposition of the soul will resemble that of the body, if the
soul be influenced for good, it will affect the body also.” His
use of the term _soul_, moreover, is significant of the conviction
which underlies all his writing, that the end of all physical
intellectual training is the development of the feelings that
prompt to right conduct. He was not carried away by the current
craze for book-learning into accepting as a legitimate end of
education the pursuit of knowledge for its own sake; in his view
the teacher must always have regard to the unfolding of the whole
character that would bear fruit in the discharge of the duties of
citizenship and other activities of a complete life. Not that he
wished the school to assume any preponderating control over the
child, either in the direction of opinion or in moral ascendency.
He had too clear an insight into the springs of conduct to ignore
the potency of the earliest influences of the home, and so far
from seeking to usurp the authority of parents in determining
their children’s lives, he urges the closest co-operation and
good feeling among all who have the pupil’s welfare at heart.
Some further insight will be gained into his comprehensive ideal
of upbringing when we come to consider his appreciation of home
influence more closely, but it may first be asked what his
conception was of the mental cultivation that should be aimed at in
a liberal curriculum. In regard to the secondary or grammar school
period of education, with which he was most intimately acquainted,
though he has many acute criticisms and luminous suggestions to
offer, his expressed intention of supplying a systematic treatment
was unfortunately left unfulfilled; and of his ideas as to
university teaching we have little more than a sketch of proposed
reforms. On these points something may presently be said, but we
may turn first to his contributions towards the establishment of
a sound elementary system, which he held to be the most important
stage of all, because it was the only form of education that could
be brought within the reach of every child, and was the foundation
of all further progress in learning. Even this part of the task
that he imposed on himself remains incomplete, but there is
material enough for a judgment of his point of view. It would seem
that in England, up to the Elizabethan era at least, no provision
had ever been made for rudimentary instruction for any except those
who were destined to proceed to the higher stages of learning,
and that the elementary training given to these select few was
limited to the barest preparation for the traditional study of the
classics. The reading and writing of the vernacular must have been
acquired up to a certain point before the Latin grammar could be
attacked, but it is clear that no adequate justice was done even to
these preliminary subjects, and that no attempt was made to include
a deliberate training of the senses and activities of the child.
Mulcaster’s proposals as to an elementary course certainly do not
sound revolutionary. His subjects coincide pretty nearly with our
familiar “three R’s,” and he is himself careful to show that he is
merely “reviving” what is commended by the precepts of the wise
men of old, and by the practice of the greatest States. But it was
no small merit to be the first to perceive that such a revival was
possible and desirable in his own time and country, and when his
proposals are examined it will be found that in the spirit in which
he conceived them they were far in advance alike of contemporary,
and of much later, thought and practice. It is a well-known
criticism of his contemporary, Montaigne, that teachers were apt to
think too much of the matter that was to be taught, and too little
of the nature of the learner. That this remark was just in relation
to these times we can well believe when we consider how recently
the traditional bearing of the schoolmaster has been associated
rather with the harsh enforcement of uncongenial tasks under the
threat of penalties than with the sympathetic encouragement of
willing and interested labours. Ascham had protested against the
short-sighted severity of teachers, but failed to see that its
root lay in the fact that the studies presented were generally
ill-adapted to the capacities and inclinations of the scholars.
Mulcaster, on the other hand, recognised that the remedy must be
sought in the discovery of a more reasonable method, towards which
he had definite constructive proposals to offer. He may even be
said to have anticipated by a couple of centuries the doctrine
of Rousseau, afterwards utilised by Pestalozzi and Froebel, that
the paramount aim of the teacher is not to communicate knowledge,
but to stimulate and guide the natural activity of the child. It
is to be noted that every one of the five subjects he proposed to
teach in the elementary school is of the nature of an art, calling
for independent action on the part of the learner, and giving
pleasurable exercise to the senses and bodily organs as well as
to the intelligence. It was more than a happy intuition that led
him to give so honourable a place to drawing and music; it was a
consistent application of his doctrine that the minds of young
children must be fed through the channels of sense perception, and
that faculty is to be developed by placing the outlets of energy
in immediate contact with the powers of acquisition. Drawing
was intended to give a direct and practical knowledge of space
relations and of the forms of natural objects, by combining the
activities of eye and hand, while at the same time it favoured
the cultivation of artistic expression. Music, being based on
varied arrangements of number in pitch and time, was counted on
to supply the ground-work of arithmetic, while in accordance with
the persuasion of the Greeks it was held to exercise a definite
æsthetic and moral influence on character. That Mulcaster had not
only thought out his theories on the matter, but had verified
them by individual child-study, is clear from the terms of his
recommendations. “We must seek for natural inclinations in the
soul, which seem to crave the help of education and nurture, and
by means of these may be cultivated to advantage.... The best way
to secure good progress, so that the intelligence may conceive
clearly, memory may hold fast, and judgment may choose and discern
the best, is so to ply them all that they may proceed voluntarily
and not with violence.”
The same insight into the heart of the educational process appears
in his treatment of the grammar-school curriculum. When we remember
the absorbing pre-occupation with classical learning that was the
distinctive mark of the Renascence scholars, and the prominence
given in consequence to linguistic study in education, we should
not wonder if Mulcaster were found acquiescing in some degree in
the narrow ideal that exalted knowledge at the expense of faculty,
and laid more stress on the interpretation of words than of things.
What will rather excite our surprise and admiration is the extent
to which he was able to rise above the contemporary estimate of the
value of Latin and Greek as instruments of culture. It is from the
pen of one whose reputation in his own day was based on his mastery
of ancient languages and his success as a teacher of the classics,
that we have the clearest statement of the contrast between the
indirect, incidental value of linguistic training, and the direct,
formative influences of scientific study. “In time all learning may
be brought into one tongue, and that naturally understood by all,
so that schooling for tongues may prove needless, just as once they
were not needed; but it can never fall out that arts and sciences
in their essential nature shall be anything but most necessary for
every commonwealth that is not utterly barbarous.... The sciences
that we term ‘mathematical’ from their very nature always achieve
something good, intelligible even to the unlearned, by number,
figure, sound, or motion. In the manner of their teaching also
they plant in the mind of the learners a habit of resisting the
influence of bare probabilities, of refusing to believe in light
conjectures, of being moved only by infallible demonstrations.”
It has been stated above that Mulcaster had reached a conception
distinctly in advance of his time in regard to the true
significance of words, as the signs of realities in the outer
world and of the impressions these realities make upon the mind.
We may here notice the influence of this conception on his
treatment of linguistic study as a means of education. While fully
admitting the necessity for acquiring the classical languages
as long as these continued to be the only vehicles of learning,
he never fails to regret the loss of time absorbed in studying
them, and he anticipates with satisfaction the time when modern
tongues, and especially his own, will be sufficiently developed
and refined to replace Latin and Greek, believing as he does that
“all that bravery may be had at home that makes us gaze so much
at the fine stranger.” Not that he ever forgets that words are
something more than mere symbols, that indeed they come to have a
certain objective reality of their own, which must be apprehended
as directly as that of any other natural phenomenon. “Do we not
learn from words?” he asks. “No marvel if it is so, for a word is
a metaphor, a learned translation, something carried over from
its original sense to serve in some place where it is even more
properly used, and where it may be most significant, if it is
properly understood. Take pains to learn from it; you have there
a means of gaining knowledge.” But this appreciation of the inner
significance of language does not blind him to the fact, apparently
unperceived by all his contemporaries, that the unfortunate need
for devoting so much time and energy to linguistic study was a very
serious hindrance to the natural unfolding of the mental faculties
through a reasonable education. In his own words, “we were forced
... to deal with the tongues, ere we pass to the substance of
learning; and this help from the tongues, though it is most
necessary, as our study is now arranged, yet hinders us in time,
which is a thing of great price--nay, it hinders us in knowledge,
a thing of greater price. For in lingering over language, we are
removed and kept back one degree further from sound knowledge, and
this hindrance comes in our best learning time.” And in another
passage he bewails the “loss of time over tongues, while you are
pilgrims to learning,” and the “lack of sound skill, while language
distracts the mind from the sense.” Where could we find a stronger
indictment of the Public School tradition that banishes every form
of nature study during the “best learning time,” the years when the
powers of observation are in their first freshness, for the sake of
a premature initiation into the subtleties of Latin Grammar?
We may pass to another important question with which Mulcaster
deals in a spirit in harmony with his enlightened conception of
general instruction. His assumption that the day-school is the
normal arrangement, and that either an entirely private or a
boarding-school education requires to be justified by special
circumstances, gives him a far wider outlook and a safer standpoint
than can be claimed for theorists, whose ideal, like that of Locke,
regards only the upbringing of a gentleman’s son at home under a
tutor, or, like that of Milton, involves the collection of large
numbers in boarding establishments of a conventual nature. This is
a matter that is naturally related to the extension of educational
opportunities throughout all classes of the community. As long
as only a select few were thought fit for learning, residence
in the monastery was almost an affair of necessary convenience,
but when teaching came to be more widely offered, the day-school
became a recognised institution, and such other arrangements as
implied greater expenditure were retained only by the rich, as
instruments of social exclusiveness. It is in countries where
distinctions of rank are comparatively little marked that the
day-school system has flourished most, and the partiality shown
in Mulcaster’s day for the services of a private tutor, and in
subsequent times for the boarding-school, is certainly to be taken
in great measure as an assertion of class superiority. Mulcaster
was no democrat, but he saw that the rich had more to lose than
to gain by arrangements that unduly restricted their experience.
Moreover he clearly discerned the importance of the family as
the true social unit, the nursery of the virtues that should be
developed in the school, and find exercise in the public, as well
as the private, conduct of life. It is not his fault that his
countrymen have become bound hand and foot to a system under which
the vast majority of well-to-do parents hand over their children,
body and soul, from the tenderest years to the care of professional
upbringers, divesting themselves with a light heart of the most
precious responsibilities that nature has conferred on them. “How
can education be private?” he asks, “It is an abuse of the name as
well as of the thing.” But on the other hand he urges--“All the
considerations which persuade people rather to have their children
taught at home than along with others outside, especially with
regard to their manners and behaviour, form arguments for their
boarding at least at home, if the parents will take their position
seriously.... They are distinct offices, to be a parent, and a
teacher, and the difficulties of upbringing are too serious for all
the responsibilities to be thrown into the hands of one alone.”
On the question of the position and standing of the teacher
Mulcaster’s contentions were scarcely more timely and just for his
own generation than they are for the present time. Though certain
ranks of the teaching profession have never been without social
consideration, it remains true that teachers as a whole were long
regarded as an inferior order of the clergy, who did not reach the
goal of their ambition until they had succeeded in leaving their
first calling, to take the more tranquil and dignified position
of a cure of souls. As he puts it--“The school being used but
for a shift, from which they will afterwards pass to some other
profession, though it may send out competent men to other careers,
remains itself far too bare of talent, considering the importance
of the work.” It was only natural that the profession should
suffer from this want of independence, in the general esteem, and
therefore in its substantial rewards, but the claim which our
author puts forward for greater public consideration, is obviously
based, not on any petty resentment on behalf of himself or his
fellows, but on broad general grounds of social advantage. He
had a high sense of the importance of the teacher’s task for the
national welfare, and he was anxious on all grounds that those
most fitted to fulfil it with success, should in the first place
be induced to enter the profession by the prospect of adequate
recognition, and in the second place have sufficient opportunity
of training to enable them to do justice to it. “I consider that
in our universities there should be a special college for the
training of teachers, inasmuch as they are the instruments to make
or mar the growing generation of the country ... and because the
material of their studies is comparable to that of the greatest
profession, in respect of language, judgment, skill in teaching,
variety in learning, wherein the forming of the mind and exercising
of the body require the most careful consideration, to say nothing
of the dignity of character which should be expected from them.”
Mulcaster, it will here be seen, has good grounds to offer for
magnifying his office, and striving to win a place of honour for
it in the social economy. Subsequent experience has tended to
suggest that his effort to gain greater consideration for his
profession was more utopian than could perhaps have appeared to
his contemporaries. There are certain general reasons why in a
country like ours the teaching profession cannot be expected to
reach the solidarity that belongs, for example, to the profession
of medicine or of law. The wide economic differences in our
civilisation inevitably perpetuate distinctions of rank, which are
nowhere more clearly shown than in the choice of schools. It is
natural and right that parents should be no less concerned about
the companionship they provide for their children than about the
quality of the teaching, and since a free and compulsory education
has brought into the national schools not only the poorest but the
lowest class, those who can afford it must be excused, and even
commended, if they take advantage of other opportunities, where
some principle of selection is applied. And as there are different
classes of children, representing on the whole different kinds of
home-upbringing, so there will be different ranks of teachers,
varying widely in their status and emoluments. The question of
numbers will always among day-schools give the town teacher an
advantage over his country brother; the question of fees, in so far
as these are not counter-balanced by endowments or State support,
will draw the most highly-qualified teachers to the schools that
serve the rich; and the secondary teacher will, on the whole, rank
above the elementary teacher, partly because greater attainments
are required from him, and partly because the higher teaching,
requiring a prolonged school course, is demanded chiefly by the
well-to-do classes. That this economic differentiation would
become so marked could scarcely have been foreseen three centuries
ago, and even though it already existed, Mulcaster was doing good
service in protesting against its extremer forms. His claim that
the elementary teacher is the most important of all, that he
should have the smallest classes to deal with, and that he should
be the most highly paid, must of course be taken as a counsel of
perfection, but if there is no present prospect of its being fully
admitted in practice, there is certainly a growing acceptance of
the principle underlying it, that the most critical period of
education is in the early years, when the first impressions are
being received, and that no influence deserves to be so well
considered as that which is to call forth an individual response
from the awakening intelligence.
Difficult as the attainment of Mulcaster’s ideal of the position
of teachers may have been, he was undoubtedly on the right path to
seek it, when he advocated that their training should be entrusted
to the universities. The demand for adequate preparation is the
only reasonable means of securing at once a fitting status, and a
reward sufficient to attract the best talent, and the recognition
of the work of education as deserving to rank with the other
learned professions for which a special academic training is
required, is the natural expression of a healthy public sentiment
on the matter. The higher the requirements are pitched, the safer
will be the guarantee that aspirants will be drawn to the work by
a genuine belief in it as their true vocation, for the sake of
which it is worth while to make some sacrifice. The atmosphere of a
university, moreover, offers the fullest opportunity to the teacher
of acquiring the breadth of general culture, and the _savoir
vivre_, in which he is so apt to be deficient.
Mulcaster’s proposals for university reform in general will be
found in several important respects to have anticipated the course
of subsequent legislation. He wished the State to have a free
hand in controlling the uses of private endowments according to
the special needs of each generation, as long as the confidence
of the original founders was not betrayed, and he was not slow
to point out directions where he considered that changes were
urgently needed. We know that in his time the condition of the
Universities of Oxford and Cambridge was far from satisfactory,
partly because definite abuses had crept in, and partly because
their constitution naturally offered a passive resistance to
regulative organisation. Mulcaster’s suggestions all tend to
greater concentration of aim and facility of classification. He may
have carried his desire for uniformity too far when he advocated
the specialisation of every college to a particular study, and
even to a particular stage in that study. So far as residence
is concerned there is surely no need to forgo the benefits of a
varied social intercourse among students of different standing
and pursuits, but it cannot be doubted that every effort should
be made to counteract the loss this may entail by providing full
opportunities throughout the whole university for the emulation of
those who are in the same academic position. In Elizabethan days
there was not the same freedom of interchange in lectures among the
various colleges that now obtains, and Mulcaster was doing good
service in deprecating the isolation and dispersion of interest
that interfered with progress. We must also commend the discernment
he showed in presenting the claims of a definite and comprehensive
curriculum in general learning to the attention of those who wished
to engage in professional studies, as well as his zeal for the more
careful selection of candidates for scholarships, fellowships, and
degrees. Nor is it to be forgotten that he was probably the first
to suggest the appointment of “readers” in the universities,--an
arrangement that was not adopted till almost our own time.
The significance of Mulcaster’s theories may best be appreciated
by comparing them with those of the great educational reformer who
came next in order of time. The services rendered to the world by
Comenius are too well accredited, and too widely acknowledged, to
suffer any serious loss of prestige by such a comparison. It has
been already urged that true originality in social affairs means an
enlightened judgment as to what is possible and desirable for one’s
own time and country, and the reform of education had to be worked
out and proclaimed for continental Europe on independent lines. It
is not likely that Mulcaster’s writings had any direct influence on
Comenius, though they could hardly fail to make some contribution
to the general stock of ideas that is successively inherited by
each generation, and spreads almost imperceptibly over an ever
widening area. Even apart from any claim to priority in doctrine,
the forcible personality of the Moravian writer, expressing
itself in a singularly exhaustive treatment of educational
problems and their practical application, will always assure to
him an unquestioned authority, while his assertion of the weighty
principle that words and things must be taught together, spoken
and written signs being constantly associated with the objects,
qualities, or actions they represent, is in itself enough to secure
him a lasting reputation. But from the national point of view,
which in tracing such historical successions it is not unreasonable
to assume, we may justly note that there are a considerable
number of educational doctrines, now generally accepted among us
in theory if not in practice, the earliest formulation of which,
though generally ascribed to Comenius, is really to be found in the
writings of Richard Mulcaster. More than this, it may be maintained
that on several important points a more penetrating insight was
shown by our own countryman, in spite of his disadvantage in time.
In regard both to the end and the scope of education, for example,
a more humanistic conception seems to have been held by Mulcaster.
Unlike Comenius, who lays chief stress on the preparation for
eternity, he sets forth as the main purpose of youthful training
the more proximate aims of self-realisation and useful service to
one’s fellowmen. “The end of education and training is to help
nature to her perfection in the complete development of all the
various powers ... whereby each shall be best able to perform all
those functions in life which his position shall require, whether
public or private, in the interest of his country in which he was
born, and to which he owes his whole service.” And while both
writers insist that the rudiments of learning should be taught to
children of every social class and of both sexes, the Englishman
alone expresses sympathy with the ideal of a higher education for
girls where circumstances permit. It would seem also that Mulcaster
took the more reasonable view of the relation of a teacher to his
class, for his claim that the elementary master should have the
smallest number to deal with, at least shows a fuller sense of the
importance of individual treatment than is conveyed in the later
writer’s dictum that it does not matter how large a class is if the
teacher has monitors to help him.
Among the doctrines of Comenius to which his expositors have
attached special importance may be numbered the following: that
the earliest teaching should be given in the vernacular; that the
first subjects taught should be such as give scope to the child’s
activity; that knowledge should be communicated through the
senses and put to immediate use; that examples should be taught
before rules; that the arts should be taught practically; that
in language-study grammar should accompany reading and speaking;
that learning should be spontaneous and pleasant without undue
pressure; that children should not be beaten for failure in
study, but only for moral offences; and that education should
follow in general the guidance of nature. These principles now
rank among the commonplaces of educational method, and in so far
as their acceptance has been furthered by the persuasive advocacy
of Comenius the gratitude of the world is due to him; but why
should Englishmen forget that they had all been proclaimed with
unmistakable clearness in this country half a century earlier?
Readers of the foregoing pages must be already convinced that
the doctrines in question form an essential part of Mulcaster’s
theory of education; but it may be worth while to recall in a
connected form a few of the more striking passages in which they
are expressed. On the use of the vernacular in the early years:
“As for the question whether English or Latin should be first
learned, hitherto there may seem to have been some reasonable
doubt, although the nature of the two tongues ought to decide the
matter clearly enough, ... but now ... we can follow the direction
of reason and nature in learning to read first that which we
speak first, to take most care over that which we use most, and
in beginning our studies where we have the best chance of good
progress, owing to our natural familiarity with our ordinary
language, as spoken by those around us in the affairs of everyday
life.” No particular quotation is needed to illustrate Mulcaster’s
dependence for his elementary training on studies that called
forth individual effort from the child, for the course he planned
includes no other kind of occupation, but the following sentences
may stand for a proof that he recognised the natural channels
through which knowledge is acquired and utilised in the guidance of
action: “Nature has ... given us for self-preservation the power
of perceiving all sensible things by means of feeling, hearing,
seeing, smelling, and tasting. These qualities of the outward
world, being apprehended by the understanding and examined by the
judgment, are handed over to the memory, and afterwards prove our
chief--nay, our only--means of obtaining further knowledge....
To serve the end both of sense-perception and of motion, nature
has planted in the body a brain, the prince of all our organs,
which by spreading its channels through every part of our frame,
produces all the effects through which sense passes into motion.”
On the point of subordinating rules to the imitation of examples,
and learning the arts by practically engaging in them, Mulcaster
writes: “Children know not what they do, much less why they do
it, till reason grow into some ripeness in them, and therefore
in their training they profit more by practice than by knowing
why, till they feel the use of reason, which teaches them to
consider causes.... When the end of any art is wholly in doing, the
initiation should be short, so as not to hinder that end by keeping
the learners too long musing upon rules.... We must keep carefully
that rule of Aristotle which teaches that the best way to learn
anything well which has to be done after it is learned, is always
to be a-doing while we are a-learning.” To the question of the
best method in linguistic study, Mulcaster was ready to apply this
principle of learning directly through practice, and his sense of
the proper place of grammatical knowledge is shown in the following
passage: “Grammar in itself is but the bare rule, and a very naked
thing.... In grammar, which is the introduction to speech, there
should be no such length as is customary, because its end is to
write and to speak, and in doing this as much as possible we learn
our grammar best, when it is applied to matter and not clogged with
rules. As for understanding writers, that comes with years and
ripeness of intelligence, not by means of the rules of grammar.” It
has already been seen that Mulcaster shared fully in the humaner
views upon the treatment of children that were beginning to assert
themselves in his day; but it is interesting to notice that he
based his conviction not only on the general claims of sympathy,
but also on grounds of purely educational expediency. “These three
things--perception, memory, and judgment--ye will find peering
out of the little young souls. Now these natural capacities being
once discovered must as they arise be followed with diligence,
increased by good method and encouraged by sympathy, till they come
to their fruition. The best way to secure good progress, so that
the intelligence may conceive clearly, memory may hold fast, and
judgment may choose and discern the best, is so to ply them that
all may proceed voluntarily, and not with violence, so that the
will may be ready to do well and loth to do ill, and all fear of
correction may be entirely absent. Surely to beat for not learning
a child that is willing enough to learn, but whose intelligence
is defective, is worse than madness.... Beating must only be for
ill-behaviour, not for failure in learning.” Finally we must admit
that the principle urged by Comenius, and afterwards pushed to
an extreme by Rousseau and Froebel, of following the guidance of
nature in planning the procedure of instruction was explicitly
stated by Mulcaster. “The third proof of a good elementary course
was that it should follow nature in the multitude of its gifts, and
that it should proceed in teaching as she does in developing. For
as she is unfriendly wherever she is forced, so she is the best
guide that anyone can have, wherever she shows herself favourable.”
It not infrequently happens that the doctrines of a notable
reformer, while they are full of light and leading for his
contemporaries, have no more than a historical interest for
succeeding generations. The rapidity of their absorption in the
general current of established theory must be largely determined
by the strength of the influence with which they were first
asserted, so that in one aspect it may be said that the more
potent the impress of the original mind, the sooner will its
individual effects become imperceptible. But it would be as rash to
make this rule the measure of an estimate of relative greatness,
without taking account of other contributing conditions, as it
would be unreasonable to be misled into the opposite error of
undervaluing proposals which had only a temporary fitness and are
of no present significance. In truth it is a good deal a matter
of accident whether the words of wisdom which fall from men of
genius and insight bear fruit early or late, and while distance
in time offers a vantage-ground for the just assignment of the
tributes of admiration and gratitude, the question of immediate
applicability must not bulk too largely among the elements on
which our judgment of a reputation is based. As has been already
suggested, Mulcaster lost his opportunity of speedy acceptance for
his ideals through his inability to commend them with persuasive
eloquence, though such an impediment to appreciation is happily not
irremovable. The more searching investigation of our time into the
history of educational thought might or might not have discovered
a high present value in the aspirations to which he gave somewhat
inadequate expression, without his title to fame being materially
affected. But it will undoubtedly give to his writings a great
additional interest if it should appear that they set forth lessons
which the three intervening centuries have failed to learn, and
which are still clamouring for acceptance in our own day.
It would not be difficult to show that many of the reforms which he
urged and anticipated, while they have been formally admitted as
necessary or expedient, have as yet made little way in leavening
the whole mass of educational practice. There is good reason
to maintain, for example, that the impartial diffusion of the
opportunities of learning throughout all classes of the community,
which was a fundamental part of Mulcaster’s gospel, has been much
less completely realised among us than is generally supposed. We
are apt to rest satisfied with the idea of universal education
without over-careful a scrutiny into the nature of what is offered
in its name. In so far as elementary instruction was concerned
Mulcaster drew no distinction between rich and poor, between those
of gentle and of lowly birth; all were to have the same treatment,
irrespective of the uses to which their knowledge might afterwards
be turned. Our State system of education may profess to carry out
this aim, but the justice of the claim must be denied so long as
the nature and quality of what is forcibly imposed upon the mass of
the people is seriously at fault. Our system of public elementary
education in this country, however efficiently it may be organised,
fails entirely to provide a sound general training owing to its
adoption of a curriculum that is unduly utilitarian in aim. It is
undeniable that this is largely due to an implicit caste feeling
which prescribes that the education of the masses shall fit them
directly for the performance of certain industrial tasks in a
state of economic subjection. The well-to-do citizen wishes his
own child, even from the first, to be taught differently from the
child of poorer parents, whose schooling he helps to pay for and
has some share in regulating. The course of study he chooses may be
no better,--in some respects it is undoubtedly worse; but at least
it is different, and conforms to the conventional standard of a
liberal training for life as a whole. The codes drawn up for our
national system are not framed for any such purpose. Partly from
ingrained class prejudice, partly to get tangible results to show
for the public money expended, and partly from a benevolent but
short-sighted regard for supposed utilities, we have overburdened
the curriculum with the more mechanical parts of learning. We put
too much of the drudgery into the years when we can make sure of
the children, so that a minimum of interest is taken in the work
for its own sake, with the result that when the compulsory term
is reached, the great majority of them use their liberty to throw
aside their books for ever. While this reproach remains just, can
we say that the ideal of a true universal elementary education has
yet been reached?
It is perhaps idle to expect any equalisation of opportunities
by postponing every kind of specialism to a period beyond the
elementary stage, until there is a more general agreement as to
what constitutes a liberal education. If we apply the touchstone of
Mulcaster’s conception, how much of the traditional lumber which
is now obstructing our progress would have to be cleared away!
We are the bond-slaves of two tyrants--the spirit of an outworn
classicism and the spirit of a utilitarianism falsely so-called.
Under the domination of the former we distort the curriculum of
our higher-class schools, preparatory as well as secondary, by
projecting into the elementary period and practically imposing on
every scholar linguistic studies that should form a specialism only
for a very few during the later years of school life. Misguided by
the latter we debase our public primary education by filling up
the time with subjects of mere information that neither arouse the
interests of the learner nor afford a genuine mental discipline.
It would indeed astound the Elizabethan schoolmaster who tolerated
pre-occupation with the learned tongues only until his native
English should reach a high enough point of cultivation to become a
worthy receptacle of learning, and who lamented the temporary need
for a medium which kept the student “one degree further off from
knowledge” to find that after more than 300 years the shackles had
not yet been cast aside. Nor would he be less dismayed to discover
that the sole alternative offered to those who were excluded
from what professed to be a liberal culture, consisted only to a
very small extent of that direct knowledge of the facts and laws
of Nature which he conceived to be the proper food during “our
best learning time,” but mainly of the dry bones of second-hand
experience. Mulcaster’s ideal will not be attained until we have
devised a course of study up to the age of at least 14 or 15 years,
which shall form a preparation for life that is applicable to all
pupils alike--to boys and girls, to rich and poor, to those who can
pursue their systematic education further, and to those who must
discontinue it then to enter into the world of affairs.
Enough perhaps has been already said, though it would be an easy
task to continue the catalogue of reforms suggested by Mulcaster,
which have been approved by the consensus of judgment among
thinkers on education, but have not yet been fully carried out
in this country. When we remember the over-pressure and cramming
that have resulted from the abuse of examinations in the treatment
of learning as a marketable commodity subject to the severest
struggles of competition; or the widespread neglect of the arts
and sciences as instruments of general training; or the unholy
separation of parents and children during the most critical years
of mutual influence, through the acceptance of the boarding-school
system as a normal institution; or the anomalous position of
teachers, left as they are without recognition as members of an
acknowledged profession, and having to depend for their training on
the voluntary provision made by religious sects,--when we reflect
that on these and on many kindred matters of high urgency the
wisest guidance was offered to us more than three centuries ago,
we shall have little hesitation in admitting the claim of Richard
Mulcaster to be considered the Father of English Pedagogy.
[Illustration: (Publisher’s colophon.)]
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