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WASTETHRIFTS AND WORKMEN.
OF THE MODE OF PRODUCING THEM,
AND
THEIR RELATIVE VALUE TO THE COMMUNITY.
BY
HENRY BRANDRETH, M.A.,
FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, AND CURATE AT ST. BOTOLPH’S, BISHOPSGATE.
Now, sir, what make you here ?
Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing. ’I
What mar you then, sir?
Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made,
a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness.
As You Like It.
LONDON:
LONGMANS,
GREEN, AND
18G8.
Price One Shilling.
CO.
�The main principle advocated in these pages is, that real productive
ness in any field can only be secured by sparing the growing crops ; and
that the work of children of every age must be arranged, not to secure
the largest immediate return, but to develop the greatest capacity of ivork
in after-life.
�19 Finsbury Circus, E.C.:
April 18G8.
LONDON WASTETHRIFTS.
The condition of a great part of the poorer inhabitants of London is
deplorable in the extreme, and there can be no field calling more
urgently for the labours of the' philanthropist and the Christian. Thousands of adult workmen are; from defective education (considering
school and apprenticeship together as education), incapable of earning
more than the barest journeyman’s wages, and they have little sense of
any duty incumbent upon them of earning for any purpose save that
of spending on the gratification of their immediate desires ; if they look
forward at all, they contentedly regard the ‘ house ’ and the rates as the
natural provision for their age. They have no idea of any obligation
upon them to support sick or decayed members of their families, and they
consider their children not as fellow-creatures whom they are responsible
for having brought into the world, and whom they should make some
effort to make masters of some trade which would make them able to
earn good wages and maintain themselves in honest industry through
life, but as pieces of property who ought to be bringing them in some
thing, out of Whom they have a natural right to increase their incomes
by selling their services during youth, but whom they will have no
interest in when a few years are past; and hence, in too many cases, they
follow their interest, and sell them for an immediate wage, instead of cul
tivating the capacity of doing real work in after life; and this destroys
all hope that the rising generation will be made into anything superior
to the present. If these children were all taken from their parents and
placed in industrial schools, their grievance would not be any infringe
ment of any right of a man to direct the education of his children, but
the loss of the earnings of the little slaves during their youth.
The question must be fairly asked—Can society do nothing to im
prove the condition of the next generation ?
Experience shows that it is possible to excite lively feelings of
affection and gratitude in yormg minds towards those persons and in
stitutions who labour for their benefit during youth; the gratitude of
children to those masters who, in school or in business, try to do well
by them is a real force binding them to good ; and the hearts of chil
dren can be turned to a loyal appreciation of the benefits which law
and order have conferred upon them, instead of to a sullen belief that
high civilisation and progress merely separate the rich and poor
by a yet wider interval. A well directed education in school and
business makes them capable of doing real work throughout life, and at
the same time sets them safely above most of the dangers of early life.
a 2
�4
It is, however, difficult to keep children at school, because the body
is somewhat earlier in its development than the mind and heart, and it
can be put to perform certain tasks during the period allotted by
nature to the growth of the higher faculties. A prolonged education
sacrifices the actual work by which a child might contribute to the
wealth of the world, for the sake of training it to become a real con
tributor through after life, and of securing favourable conditions for
the ripening of the moral and intellectual powers. These early years
are not those during which children are capable of any very serious
work; but the importance of keeping good examples of action from
conscientious motives before children cannot be over-estimated. Their
unconscious imitation of all that is kept before them, recommended by
the voice of all those whom they look up to, makes a second nature of
doing right or wrong. It must, however, be remembered that mostd
masters are so distant from the boys that the real examples which they
follow are their school-fellows; and it is what is called the general tone
of a school which really influences education; and the best masters are
not those who influence single boys to copy a pattern unsuited to their
age, but those who raise the average sense of duty in all around them.
I do not, however, dwell at present on the civilising and humanising
effects of real information, but on the practical money value of teaching
at this period of life. We may cease teaching a child as soon as it can
read and write, and hire it out to do such trifling work as it is already
capable of for the benefit of the adult population; but unless it is
somebody’s duty and somebody’s interest to make such child capable
of doing something more than what it can already do, it grows up to
the passions and appetites of an adult, but with the skill and reason of
a child. We may, on the contrary, pay fees to have it taught in
school, or a premium to have it taught as an apprentice; we may
develop its reason and increase its knowledge—the latter process
involves an immediate outlay—but the sum thus spent is an invest
ment bringing in an enormous return ; the child’s wages are increased,
i.e. the value of the work done by it for society is increased during
each year of real life, by a sum fully equal to that invested in improv
ing it.
A human being is, at the lowest, a very improvable piece of pro
perty, and becomes valuable in proportion as his mind and heart,
which contrive and save, gain the control of his body, which wastes
the stores of society. We may arrest the development of the con
trolling faculties, so that the man becomes a mere wastethrift, never able
to produce as much as he destroys. Thousands of such are annually
turned loose on society, and are in effect maintained on the fruits of
the industry of others, who by proper training have learnt to produce
more than is needed for their own immediate needs, and this it is
which impoverishes a country—the number of mouths without heads
or hands who are in any way maintained by the industry of others.
We are all ready to condemn the improvidence of a family where
the children are allowed to grow up without being made capable of
supporting themselves; but such conduct is not so short-sighted as our
own, because the cost of maintaining unprofitable members does not
�fall directly on the family, but is borne equally by the whole com
munity; but when a nation omits to train its youth to work, the cost
rwBMB and workhouses falls upon the nation itself.
It is a real drag on the progress of a nation to turn out uneducated
and undisciplined hordes who can do nothing which cannot be done
Mtn- half the cost by machinery, whose whole work does not replace
the value of the food and clothing they destroy. But every workman
who can produce a good article by which the comforts and conveniences of those around him can be raised, or their more real interests
advanced, is a real increase of the resources of the nation. For though
in particular trades the labour market may be overstocked, and the
■invention of machines may displace workmen, our power of converting
raw material into manufactured goods for the use of man will never
be too great, unless it is mere quickness at some detail, and not that
general intelligence which, by having learnt its proper lessons in child
hood, is capable of learning when childhood is past, and, when not
needed in one trade, can enter upon a new field of work, because its
training has not been so special as to make it merely an intelligent
wheel in a machine, which may any day be replaced by iron fingers
taught to perform the same thoughtless round of labour.
But the workmen themselves enter into associations to limit the
number of apprentices, because they see that labour will be sold
cheaper in any trade where there is an excess of workmen. But by
thus uniting to prevent their children from being made fit to earn their
own living for fear of their competition, they lower the average pro
ductive power throughout the country, and with it the average condition
of the workman. If the workers in any one trade could secure a
monopoly for their own labour, as in India, where trades are
hereditary, and the last survivor of a family may become the only
maker of an article; or if, while the producers in other trades increase,
the number, e.g. of watchmakers could be kept the same, there will be
more work and higher wages for each worker in that trade. But if the
number of hands in every trade is kept constant, and the increasing
population debarred from learning any trade which will enable them
to produce a fair equivalent for their food and clothing, every skilled
workman will have to support one of these incapables.
Whether this is done by increased iigost of everything, or by heavy
rates and high rents, or by the wastethrift being quartered upon the
■workman, will make no difference; the means conquered by labour
From nature will be shared by the incapables. But if the craftsmen
freely impart their skill, and each makes his wastethrift into a real
producer, then the means won from nature increase with the increase
of consumers. Power to win commodities from nature is not a thing
that there will ever be too much of. If a million of skilled labourers
can exist side by side, supporting each other by the mutual inter
change of their productions, another million side by side with them
could do the same. Restrictions overstock and cause misery in the
unprotected trades ; and at present the unskilled labour, is in excess.
A skilled labourer is one who produces more commodities than he con
sumes, and not only supports himself but has usually a surplus to
�6
accumulate, or to spend in poor-rates or luxuries. A wastethrift is one
who cannot improve the raw material furnished by nature sufficfewl|
to provide himself with necessaries, and is, in some way or other,
maintained by the winnings of others.
Of course, neither ever takes home the actual goods he makes; by
an arrangement of convenience, he daily receives their money value.
In proportion to his skill each increases daily the world’s goods by the
improvement of the material by his work; and the strength of a nation
consists in the number of such over-producers who unite to observe its
laws. Its weakness is the number of wastethrifts it has to maintain ;
and if, by effective educatiou, these over-consumers can be turned
into over-producers, the steady employment of their work is the
national resources.
A thousand more workmen, fairly distributed among the various
trades, do not mean more competition for the little work there already
is, but each creates a demand for additional work to exchange for his
. productions. Skilled workmen produce more than they consume.
They not only lead innocent and happy lives themselves, but create
fresh markets for labour among ourselves, with a real increase of
national force. We adopt very questionable means of opening foreign
markets, while the cost of an expedition would create a new people
among ourselves—certain customers in our markets, willing sharers of
our taxes—instead of the mass of pauperism and crime which we allow
to lie at our doors, till it has rotted sufficiently for us to assume the
permanent charge of maintaining it in workhouses and jails. Skilled
productive workmen are the real elements of a nation’s strength. Money
can only produce by setting men to work. Men combine, and shape
the rough material which nature affords till it becomes serviceable ;
they make tools and machines, extract food and ores from the earth.
The work of man alone enables men to live. The whole produce on
w’hich all live is due to the intelligence and skill of each; and the
whole work of each creature is highest if he is spared when young, and
taught, till he becomes a really effective producer.
Even if every man is trained to do some one thing fairly, machines
will continually be invented doing the same things well, and cheaply.
The commodities produced by a day’s unaided labour will be sold for
less than a man can be supported on, and the man must starve, beg,
steal, or work at another trade. But without that early quickening of
the faculties which early education produces, a man cannot turn to
anything new. Intelligent hands would increase the productiveness of
other fields of labour by the transfer of their power, and the machines
would increase the productiveness of all, without any increase in the
consumption of necessaries ; each would spend the same wages on the
purchase of a larger stock of the cheapened comforts. Hence, in an age
of mechanical inventions, untrained and half-trained workmen must
suffer, and swell the mass of pauperism and discontent. But such evils
can be provided against by training our workmen to that special form
of labour which no machine can execute—viz. thinking. Each has
within him a far more subtle machine than man has ever invented, the.
powers of which, in improving the labour of the human hand, cannot
�7
be over-estimated; and alittle care taken of this machine during early
life will make each a capable worker for ever.
Every man only trained to such work as a machine can do better
must be a tax upon society for life; but careful schooling, apprentice
ships and industrial training, will make him a useful contributor
through life. And the education of the manual-labour classes, which
all recognise as the great need of the day, is not called for by recent
legislation, but by the characteristic feature of the age—by the in
dention of machinery.
It has always been reckoned to the credit of machinery that it
would perform the harder work—the drudgery of human labour—
and, terminating the necessity for man’s toiling as a mere beast of
burden, set him free to ennobling and elevating pursuits. But the
doing of the work of unskilled hands is a doubtful blessing if we,
at the same time, continue to pour upon the market thousands of un
skilled hands, incapable of those higher arts which are henceforth to
be the only work of man. The tools with whi|h men contend with
ipature are becoming too delicate to be handled by ignorant men; and
the genius of inventors has, unfortunately, beep, directed to bringing
out machines which will employ .the hands of children. At certain
points, a slightly more subtle movement is required than machinery
can cheaply effect. A young child’s hand supplies this; but the
mental development of that child is hopelessly arrested by its round of
mechanical drudgery; it becomes a part of the machine, and grows to
the strength and appetites of a man, without its real value being much
increased beyond the sixpence a day which it earned at first. The
instinct of practising the mechanical arts needed for his support are not
developed in man as in lower orders of creation; but the most per
fectible creature is, in its origin, the weakest, being cast for a long
period of helpless infancy and childhood' on the forbearance of the
adult members of the species; but, during the years in which boys
need the protection of their elders, they are singularly apt to learn and
to receive moral impressions. And it is our only good economy to
conform to the plan by which nature intends that the creature shall be
perfected, to set it to learn whilst it is capable of learning, that it may
work effectively when strong enough to work. That any individual
adult should seek to enrich himself by using the half formed minds
and bodies for any trifling purpose which they are already capable
of, is only too natural; but that a nation should follow so short
sighted a policy is, I own, to me surprising. The nation is not so
utterly bankrupt that it cannot afford to educate its children, but
must, for the sake of their paltry earnings, sacrifice their future pro
spects and its own. Every child who now is, or ought to be, at
school is a most improvable piece of property. If neglected, he
will earn small wages, but, in his best days of full work and full
strength, not enough to support the family which he is sure to have,
in the habits of waste and intemperance to which he is accustomed.
But any sum invested in schooling and apprenticeship will make
him capable of earning an equal sum in wages every year of his life—
e.g. 261 of outlay would increase his weekly wages by at least 10s., or
�s
he will produce commodities at this increased rate; whilst, as a pros
perous workman, he will consume less than either as a beggar gaS
thief. Whether by wages paid as an equivalent for labour, or by poorrates, or in jail, society has made itself responsible for maintaining him,
and any family he may choose to rear. He is quite willing, however,
to learn the use of his head and hands, but neither he nor his parents
can afford the necessary outlay. We have lent money to poor land
lords to improve their estates; let us lend a little to poor children to
improve theirs, and we shall attain our end more certainly by making
education an obviously profitable investment than by any other means.
At present, the whole value of the improved estate is handed over to
the youth on entering into life ; and there are no means by which any
person who has been induced to sink any capital on the improvement
of the property can recover one penny. But men will not invest
money in making railways unless the legislature empowers them to
take tolls; men will not breed horses if others are to take them from
them.
It is a remarkable thing how every inducement to parents to invest
money on their children has been removed; since aged paupers are
secured maintenance from the poor-rates, the duty of the children is
terminated, and the parents derive no benefit from any wage-earning
power which might be developed in youth; and by the early age at
which children can be emancipated from parental control, we make it
the interest of the parents that they should earn as soon as possible.
But a master who buys the little slave’s work of his mother, instead of
taking an apprentice, does so merely to avoid all trouble and responsi
bility of teaching the child. It is a man’s interest to make an ap
prentice a good workman, because he looks for repayment for the outlay
and trouble of his first years from the work which he becomes capable
of doing before the end of his time ; but a mere money bargain autho
rising the employer to use up, in immediate rough unskilled work, the
docility and imitative powers of the child, which are the seed and
promise of his future life, this is a bargain in which it is clearly in
tended that the parent and employer should use up the child for their
profit, as fully as if the child were bought on the coast of Africa. It
would be better for a child to be—as was suggested at Manchester-—
ground up into corn (or, as might be suggested in the country, spun
into cotton) than to be thus taken from every opportunity of improve
ment, for children do not get better, but worse, every day, unless special
pains are taken with their training. The greatest obstacles to frugality
on the part of the poor is the uncertainty and distant day of any
return ; they see that saving does not really increase their means in old
age, but that the man who spends his all every day will be relieved
up to any standard of comfort which their savings are ever likely to
command. But if we can make it obviously profitable to invest on
their children’s education, the immediate pleasure of working for a child
and setting it a good example is one which need only be once felt to
secure a continuance of such exertion. Much is said about the selfish
ness of parents, but the fault is not entirely theirs; the employers have
no plea of necessity, they merely employ child labour because it is
�9
cheap; they deliberately employ one boy after another to avoid the
■fahEnreSd responsibility of an apprentice, and turn them out untaught
Bin dlhn ski lied to swell the ranks of those who cannot compete with the
machines, ‘with as little compunction as a man would feel at drowning
an overgrown kitten. They bribe the parent to throw away the chance
of improvement. It is not the working classes who derive any benefit
from dealing with children to get all that is possible out of them,
instead of trying to put all that is possible into them. In fact it is
hard to see that any class profits by making the young children labour
for them. The capitalist buys work cheaper for it, and is enabled to
introduce machines which could not have competed with human labour,
but for their direction being within the power of a cheap boy. But
he does not really profit, because competition forces him to sell at
the lowest remunerative rate. The working classes are forced to sell
their work for less because of the very cheap rate at which child labour
can be bought; and if the owners of fixed property seem to profit by
cheapened goods, they have eventually to bear the increased rates
which are finally needed for those half-developed workers, who are as
completely incapable of supporting themselves as if they had lost the
use of their limbs, instead of that of their heads. The cheap rate of
production is a gain by bringing more commodities within the reach
of all, though it may fairly be doubted whether the increase of
comfort, as the world grows older, does make each generation happier
than the last; and any such gain is most dearly purchased by the
nation at the cost of consuming its most valuable elements of future
strength.
Even if compulsory education, the applying of the rod which modern
theorists would spare on the child, to the parents were practicable, it
would be better to make the parents wish for their children’s education,
to enlist all possible home influences to make them valuable workmen,
and introduce into the families the natural virtues of parent and child;
this will be the better thing both for the parent and the child. No
legislation will produce any great result by attempting to compel half
the community to do something which they believe to be contrary to
their interests. It is necessary to secure the hearty co-operation of the
head of every house, to make his interests identical with those of his
children; at present the child requires protection from the necessity of
immediate productive labour, and the cultivation of such faculties as
it possesses; every pound spent upon it is worth a pound a year through
life; but the parent requires that the earnings should be large during
the period in which only the natural dependence of children enables
them to be taught effectively: five shillings earned at once is more to
the parent than five pounds a year through life. It is idle to affect to
be surprised if the general conduct of large bodies of men is dictated
by their interests.
But it is a most reckless waste of the national strength to allow the
management of these most improvable pieces of property to remain in
the unaided hands of men who cannot advance the sum necessary for
\ their proper cultivation, and whose tenure terminates before any
•rail liable crop is ripe. The education of the country is neglected for
�10
the same reason that its agriculture would be if each acre of land were
in the hands of a peasant who was forced to give up possession to
another early in July. Is it not obvious that nobody will cultivated
valuable late ripening crop unless he has some security that he will
reap it ?
If the tenure of land were such as I have suggested, the remedy
would be to alter the tenure by giving the possessor control over the
property till the crops were ripe, or from some general fund to which
all might contribute to remunerate the outgoing tenant according
to the condition of his acre, or for society at large to undertake the
cultivation. This, however expensive it might seem, would be in the
end a real saving; and if they hesitated about it, they would all ba.
starved, as acre after acre was cultivated only for such common stuff
as coidd be sold in June.
And the practical problem is how to secure that a sufficient portion
of the increased value of an educated child should be paid to the
person who is at the cost and trouble of educating If the educator
could be sure of a return proportioned to the earnings of the child from
twenty to twenty-five, education and the improvement of workmen
would become at once the best investment in which capitalists could
invest their money. Nor could the charitable endowments of the
country, whose abuse is the theme of every tongue, find a better use.
The taxation of one part of the community for the gratuitous relief of
the other is already carried to a most alarming extent by the poorlaws ; but the system of supporting the incapable deprives a workman
of every incentive to frugality ; he sees that by strict economy he may
secure an annuity ; but any such return is very distant, and seems to
him very uncertain; meanwhile he sees that his neighbour, who spends
weekly every penny, has a great deal of pleasure at once, and will in
his old age be quite as certainly provided for by the parish; everything
which he lays by will in fact be taxed to make his improvident neigh
bour as comfortable as himself.
All workmen are taxed to contribute to a fund which is finally
divided among the most thriftless: we should rather endeavour to
make even more marked the contrast of the results of idleness and
industry. If society and labour must be taxed to maintain the un
employed, let the aid at least be directed to secure that the next
generation become fit to maintain themselves. If men know not
how to support themselves, let them forego the right of bringing up
children as incapable and unintelligent as themselves. Society has both
the power and the right to control the liberty. of those who cannot
maintain themselves. If the honest man were asked to invest his
savings at once in his children’s training, by the hope of an honourable
fairly earned annuity, proportioned to the efficiency of their training,
he would have a real interest in seeing that his children frequented good
schools and profited by the teaching; it would be his interest that his
children should become virtuous and intelligent; and not only would
this result be generally secured for the children, but the parents would
be humanised by their efforts to humanise their children.
If education is a most profitable national investment, the magnitude
�1^
^fflEfiKhl^^^S^^^RyiSthe greatest possible recommendation. The
SmSBMWMS^E^nunerative, because it penetrates a fertile district of
parental and Christian benevolence, and gives room for the play of
forces whose energy is real and very great.
Theiparent who brings a child into the world is already responsible
for its maintenance. In a large workhouse-school a child cannot be
kept for less than 107., and in a working man’s house the cost is probably greater; and we may put at 100Z. the cost of rearing a young
animal capable of exerting some physical force, but entirely devoid of
Bfe intelligence which might enable him to apply that force usefully.
They (for he is certain to marry and have a large family) consume
daily more commodities than he produces, and are maintained by the
Fwork of the rest of the community. The creature thus reared is one
which no slave-owner would take as a gift, unless he had power to
work, feed, and clothe it in a way which our workhouse officials would
Rry shame on. But it is in the power of society, by spending a small
sum in aid of the large outlay already incurred by the parent, to
develop a mind, to make the wastethrift into a skilled intelligent workman, whose labour will every year fully replace all that it consumes,
and whose earnings in any single year will amply replace any sum
Advanced.
A very small part of the encouragement given ,to the investment of
money in railways would enable the zeal which® is so widely felt to
bring the means of becoming an intelligent workman within the reach
of every child. We did not then trust the zealpwmen for their fellowCreatures’ good; we did not leave each owner of an acre of land to do
as he liked. We passed laws that the interests of the community were
more important than the rights of individuals, and we sanctioned the
levying of tolls; so now we must make it a safe investment to train
skilled workmen, by allowing the person investing to share the increased
value of the manufactured article. But among the poorer classes,
where the parents actually have not the money to invest, it is the
interest of the community at large to levy rates and taxes to increase
the future productiveness of the country. It would be a real blessing
to a child if the school were to keep an account against it of all sums
expended, and the repayment of such advances made a first charge on
his earning. But it would be far better in every way to throw the
charge on local and national taxation than on any individual.
It is particularly cruel that the nation should in this century grudge
the cost of education. Fifty years ago the day’s work of an unskilled
labourer earned enough to support him; but we have discovered buried
underground enormous stores of that untrained force which is all that
an untrained workman has to sell; and when he comes and asks for
work and wages, the practical answer is that one shilling’s worth of coal
will do everything he is capable of; in fact, the iron giant would pro
bably give less trouble and need less superintendence than the man.
We have found in coal mines that by which the productiveness of
Rilled labour is enormously increased, and unskilled labour made
worthless; but the reduced cost of everything due to machinery puts
it in our power to afford for others the training which it renders neces
�12
sary. The skill of the workman must keep pace with the improvement
in his tools; more time than formerly is required to develop sufficient
intelligence to enable them to do work above the capacity of the
machines; during the years which youthful docility and quickness
point out as fitted for mastering any craft, children should be counted as
learners and repaid for any small service which they render the com
munity by increased opportunities of learning. Those who are
untaught to think, and incapable of turning their hands to any new
work, who from want of training of their intelligence can only do
mechanical work, will certainly be displaced by the more cheaply
working iron hands. It is not any special kind of knowledge which
schools are useful for imparting, but the general cultivation of the moral
and intellectual faculties; these cannot be strengthened in a child whose
whole daily stock of energy is wanted in the mill or farm; neither
growing mind nor growing body will improve if strained by labour to
minister to the comfort of adults.
The displacement of his labour by machinery is no very great matter
to a man whose intelligence enables him to turn his hand to something
else. It is the hopelessly unintelligent whose minds are closed against
all new ideas who have to be maintained by the community.
But education is a great religious duty, and this is to. make it all a
matter of profit and calculation. Not at all; education is a religious
duty, and nobly is it performed. Witness the scanty salaries on which
masters work, finding their real payment in the sense of service done
to their fellows. But subscribing to anything is not a religious duty ;
the work which our Master calls us to cannot be done by paid hands
for us. Education will always remain in the hands of religious men,
the salaries of teachers are too small to retain those who have no zeal
for the work ; but we must not trust to that zeal which is only kindled
by personal contact to fill our subscription lists, or to advance such
capital as will enable masters to maintain themselves in their, labours
of love. Similarly, a passion for science retains many men in posts
the pay of which seems inadequate. But no passion for science will
ever bring any man to face the daily round of routine of a school.
Whilst children are under education, we are careful only to
put high motives to action before them, because their character is in
process of being moulded by the motives thought of by them. But
with adults, whose character is formed, we must not leave, powerful
motives unappealed to. Among men, their actions are more important
than their motives, and we take nature as it is, and seek to direct
their actions; with children, we look forward in hope to what nature is
becoming, and seek to perfect their motives—thinking their actions
comparatively of very little importance.
It is impossible to make the duty and interest of grown men too
obviously identical; however far the point is carried up to which in
terest and duty coincide, the worst parents will come up to that point
however advanced, whilst the zeal of the better class of parents will
still urge them to do more.
In dealing with a numerous class of adults, it would be folly to. say
that the duty of providing for their children is so clear that it is
�13
l"ver motives. We must rather try how
BWWBBHHMDe made to fall in the same direction with duty. There
|Mw hMffmffigB-oom for the preference of virtue at the last.
But the whole question of the religious view of education must be
UaQpIndently considered.
Though I have tried to point out how the national pocket is to be
benefited by liberal investment in education, the real interest which
B^Wuld be felt in it arises solely from the desire that the children
should be religiously and virtuously brought up. However great may
be the necessity of school-teaching for the purpose of raising our future
workmen into an intelligent class, capable each of producing sufficient
Bommodities to maintain himself in honest industry, instead of doing the
work which a machine can do for sixpence a day, and being maintained
on the alms of the real workers, we must not forget that there are
other interests beyond those of mere animal need which should not be
neglected. Of course, these interests are in great measure things of
faith, and many men will be simply unable to appreciate their im
portance. The excellence of a school is not anything that can be
written out during an examination, but will be spread throughout
the whole of after-life. The eye of the astronomer does not see a star
so distinctly by looking directly at it, but when he glances a little on
one side ; and children do not seize those things which are deliberately
set before them so readily as those which are laid in their way
without that straining of the attention which is considered the right
thing in lessons. And it is not the actual words which drop from the
teacher’s lips, not the precepts which he reiterates with authority, but
the daily, hourly example of those to whose example he unconsciously
endeavours himself to conform, and which is continually presented to
young minds as the standard of that society into which they look
forward to being admitted.
It is hardly necessary to say that education does a very small part
of the good in its power unless it secures that the children are brought
under humanising, moral, and religious influences. There is, however, no practical chance of education being really conducted by
irreligious teachers. The wages of a teacher are so small compared
with those of equally skilled workmen in^qually laborious and equally
responsible situations that the work haivery slight attractions to men
who do not feel that it is at once a duty and a pleasure. Within the
last thirty years, the ministers of religion have undertaken such an
amount of work and responsibility, and made such munificent contri
butions to schools, that others who, with far larger means and much
more time at their command, content themselves with talking, really
complain of their having pushed forwards in the matter. But this
high-class labour will not continue to support the schools if they
become places where men’s interests in this world are alone thought
of. The good teacher looks for his wages nopdn what he receives, but
in the far more real pleasure of giving. He asks for little, barely
enough to maintain himself, but he takes pleasure in the power of
giving to all around him something which they are really grateful for,
something which he knows to be even more desirable than they think.
�11
He has no applicants at his door clamorous for a dole, wBMMMing
pretence of gratitude, but he sees an easily read expression of the
heart’s emotions. It is true he will at times meet with unwilling re
cipients of his charity, but at least he knows it, and he also knows that
their kindness is only delayed, and that at the worst it is a small thing f&l
him to be judged by their judgment. Wordsworth tells most charm
ingly how the simple act of natural kindness from the strong to the
weak filled old Simon Lee’s heart with gratitude, and the schoolmaster
more than auy other man can say—
I’ve heard of hearts unkind kind deeds
With coldness still returning;
Alas ! the gratitude of men
Has oftener left me mourning.
But, of course, the nation is perfectly at liberty to say that it will
have industrial schools, where men shall give mere secular instruction.
Fine gentlemen may agitate, and make speeches, and even legislate in
favour of such schools; but five times the present amount of salaries
will not tempt men of the same stamp to undertake posts of such
degrading drudgery as the mechanical duty of preparing heathen
children for examination in the elements of secular knowledge. Unless
a man has sufficient belief in what he does believe to feel that a neces
sity is on him of preaching it, his example is one which will be most
undesirable to put before boys. The whole of this matter is admirably
put in the preface to ‘ Tom Brown —
‘ Several persons, for whose judgment I have the highest respect,
while saying very kind things about this book, have added that the
great fault of it is “ too much preaching;” but they hope I shall amend
in this matter, should I ever write again. Now this I most distinctly
decline to do. Why, my whole object in writing at all was to get the
chance of preaching. When a man comes to my time of life, and has
his bread to make, and very little time to spare, is it likely he will
spend almost the whole of his yearly vacation in writing a story just to
amuse people ? I think not. At any rate, I wouldn’t do so myself.’
1 The sight of sons, nephews, and godsons, playing trap-bat-and-ball, and
reading “ Robinson Crusoe,” makes one ask oneself whether there isn’t
something one would like to say to them before they take their first
plunge into the stream of life, away from their own homes, or while
they are yet shivering after their first plunge. My sole object in
writing was to preach to boys; if ever I write again, it will be to
preach to some other age. I can’t see that a man has any business to
write at all unless he has something which he thoroughly believes and
wants to preach about. If he has this, and the chance of delivering
himself of it, let him by all means put it in the shape in which it is
most likely to get a hearing, but let hi® never be so carried away as to
forget that preaching is his object.’
But although interference with the liberty of religious instruction
will have the disastrous effect of lowering the general moral character
of the teachers, by depriving the trade of every attraction »to every man
whose character and example it is at all desirable to keep before
children, the ministers of religion have it in their power to increase
�15
gr®iyn;newiniiUEroBwhich they now exert, and to secure the direction
of the forces which the newly awakened national demand for action
wi11 set in motion, by voluntarily exercising the self-denial of confining
their attention to the essential outlines of our religion. A very undue
of attention has been drawn to some theological questions by the
very fact of their fruits being hatred, variance, emulations, wrath,
strife, seditions, heresies. Superficial enquirers are so struck with the
Bare shown to define the differences of Christians that they lose the
whole weight of the testimony of the whole of the civilised world to the
really important facts of our religion. The religion which our Saviour
came to reveal was not a doctrine, noi' a ritual, but an example; the
records of His life give no countenance to the idea that any man was
ever turned back by Him on any speculative opinion of controversial
theology, or any question of dress. If He again walked among us, we
should not dare to bring under Hit notice the points disputed among
Protestant churches. Whilst the doctrines, so long ago tried and found
utterly inadequate to give men peace, of the Stoics, hoping to perfect
man by unaided development^ of the Epicureans, who would deny the
interference of a God in human affairs; or of those who sought peace in
the submission of reason and conscience to a sacrificing and absolving
priesthood—while these armies are closing in to the siege, we, like the
wretched Jews, are only intent on fortifying against each other the
portions of the city of God entrusted to our keeping.
But if our streets must be filled with this fratricidal struggle, let us
at least hide our weapons for one hour of early morning, while the
Children pass by on the way to school. What have these children
done that when they look up in their weakness for that guidance
which is absolutely necessary to their making their way in life we
should deserve the last touch of indignant satire with which the poet
dared to caricature the haters of the human race, 4 Hee monstrare vias
eadem nisi sacra colenti ? ’ And when the life-giving water of the
Saviour’s example, if set forth in the majesty of unadorned simplicity,
which his followers at the first were content to put forward, might
captivate the mind of every child, and of men willing to become as
little children, is it our religion ? iJQusesitum ad fontem solos deducere
verpos.’ Why, the result of our school-teaching of the last generation
Hs enough to show that to import into children’s schools the distinctive
tenets of denominations is offending the little ones, is forbidding them
to come to Jesus, is a yoke which cannot be borne. Can we be sur
prised if the State, seeing that the denominations insist on the division
of the living child, seeks elsewhere for the mother thereof?
A new-born babe is entirely unable to attach any meaning to the sights
and sounds which surround it. But by unconscious experience, and the
loving patience of others, it learns by little and little to form ideas about
things. But the formation of the moral sense, and realising the things
of the spiritual life, needs far more anxious patience on the part of all
around through whom it learns of this higher new world. But only
the most arrant pedantry would ever think of giving these lessons by
definite formal teaching; there is nothing in children’s minds which can
digest and assimilate formal teaching; religious influences are not things
�16
to be set before children at a fixed hour of the day. We must take a
lesson from The Great Teacher, and be content to veil our meaning for
a time in parables. And first among these is the daily acting of the
parent’s or teacher’s life; children necessarily think upon, and desire
to imitate, the conduct of those whose power seems so unlimited to
them. The daily example set before the child, and the character of the
motive from which he sees that everybody expects others to act,
determine whether the child thinks only of what it can get in this
world for itself, or knows that it has a friend whose good will is worth
more than all else, on comparison with pleasing whom all earthly
pleasures are as dust in the balance. If the child sees no one doubts
but that the unseen distinction between right and wrong is more im
portant than the distinction between pain and pleasure, which is tem
porary and of this animal life, it learns to think more of the spiritual
than of what is seen and felt. In a man, the desire to serve our heavenly
Father, and please Him always, is the true source of action; but a
child is, by God’s providence, surrounded by a parable which brings
him gradually to feel this ; he gladly, and without being provoked to
any opposition, feels that he is entirely dependent on a father’s love, and
the desire to please and make some return to him is the natural motive
to encourage. If you .talk to a child of what he owes to God, he is
awed into a kind of acquiescence, and feels a painful restraint which he
feels relief in throwing off. But the care and love of his parents is a
thing not far from him, on which thought is easy and pleasant. But
the parable must precede its interpretation, through early life the
motive must be developed of striving to please father ; and if fathers
are not always all they should be, nothing is more effective to humanise
them than to find their children looking up to find them what they
should be ; fathers’ love for their children deepens as they become used
to them, and here as everywhere what a man voluntarily forces him
self to at first finally becomes habitual to him. But in bringing a
child to believe in his father’s love, it is not necessary to make him
repeat correct explanations how all the seniors of the family are one,
whose orders he is equally bound to obey, and yet fellow-workers each
in his own place, or to define the moment at which his father’s love
was first provoked towards him, whether it was the cause of the mother’s
love or was caused by it. The tree of knowledge of theology stands side
by side with the tree of life; but the one bears the words of Jesus—its
twelve differing fruits are each different from the rest, but they all,
and even the leaves, are for the healing of the nations; the other the
traditions and interpretations of men more subtle than the rest. If we
search our writings, thinking that in them we have eternal life, instead
of having for their office to witness to the Desire of all nations, we shall
not come to Him. We do as Peter in his ignorance, who would have
built tabernacles for his law, and prophets side by side with Jesus.
But He will yet be found alone, to abide with those who obey the
heavenly voice which rings in every heart: this man, this perfect
human life, you see in its daily detail. He is my beloved Son. Hear
Him.
Sjpotiiswoode d Co., Printers, Nev:-street Square and Parliament Street.
�
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Wastethrifts and workmen, of the mode of producing them, and their relative value to the community
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Brandreth, Henry
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Place of Publication: London
Collation: 16 p. ; 22 cm.
Notes: Printed by Spottiswoode & Co., London. From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. At head of first page: 19 Finsbury Circus, E.C.: April 1868.
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JJi ** Secret of Herbart
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Science of
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F. H. HAYWARD, D.Lit., M.A., B.Sc.
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2,
WATTS & CO.,
'
JOHNSON’S COURT, FLEET STREET, LONDON, E.C.
.»/ISSUED FOR THE RATIONALIST PRESS ASSOCIATION, LIMITED
1***-------- -
"
'
■■
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-........................ ..
.
of this Series is “THE OLDEST LAWS IN THE WORLD”
(The Hammurabi Code), by CHILPERIC EDWARDS
�All Liberal Thinkers who have not already Joined
The RATIONALIST PRESS ASSOCIATION, Ltd.,
ARE EARNESTLY INVITED TO DO SO.
The Objects of the R. P. A. are to stimulate the habits of reflection and inquiry,
and the free exercise of individual intellect; to promote a rational system of secular
education; to assist in publishing the works of capable thinkers, and in popularising
the great discoveries of modern science and scholarship; to re-issue, in cheap form,
notable books of a critical, philosophical, or ethical character; and generally to
assert the supremacy of reason, as the natural and necessary means to all such
knowledge and wisdom as man can achieve.
Membership of the R. P. A. can be secured by payment of an annual
subscription of not less than 5s., renewable in January of each year; and the
publications are forwarded, as issued, to each Member to the full value of his
current year’s subscription, unless directions to the contrary are given.
Full Particulars of the R. P. A., including the latest Annual Report and
any special information desired, can be had gratis by applying to the Secretary,
Charles E. Hooper, 5 & 6, Johnson’s Court, Fleet Street, London, E.C.
ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS RECENTLY PUBLISHED.
Over 400 pp., Library edition, cloth, 6s. net, by post 6s. 4d.
fly post 3s. iod.
Cheap edition, 3s. 6d. net,
THE CHURCHES AND MODERN THOUGHT:
AN INQUIRY INTO THE GROUNDS OF UNBELIEF AND AN APPEAL FOR CANDOUR,
By PHILIP VIVIAN.
Extracts from some (of many) Press Notices :
"A vindication of Rationalism, written in a temperate spirit.’'—Times.
‘‘A freshly thought-out discussion of the whole subject........A temperate and well-reasoned study.
Scotsman.
“ The book gives us a well-presented and interesting survey of the Rationalist position."—Daily Telegraph.
" There is much in this work that deserves close study.”—Daily Mail.
“ It states the case against the doctrines and claims of the Churches with praiseworthy moderation, as well as
with adequate information and unanswerable logic........It is an excellent book.”—- Westnunster Review.
“ Mr. Vivian's book is an admirable reply to When it Was Dark.”—New Age.
“Comprehensive in scope, judiciously written, and embodying an admirable selection of facts, it may fairly be
termed a Handbook of Rationalism."—Literary Guide.
“Will appeal to the widest possible range of readers.”—New York Herald, Paris.
“ He has put together an indictment against the modern Church which those preachers who rely on obsolete
methods of defence would do well to study.”—Globe, Toronto, Canada.
“Ilis book is a convenient summary of Rationalistic argument, well arranged and well written, and adding
to-day's conclusions to the polemic of the past.”—Bulletin, Sydney, Australia.
“ It is a book for all, but especially for young men—one, mayhap, th;it will shatter cherished preconceptions,
but will also stimulate to thought in vital and healthy ways.”—Otago Witness, Dunedin, New Zealand.
“ The book will no doubt do much good.”—;Japan Weekly Mail.
London: WATTS & CO., 17, JOHNSON’S COURT, FLEET STREET, E.C.
Obtainable at all Booksellers’, Smith & Son’s Bookstalls, Army and Navy Co-operative Stores,
Boots’ Library, and other Circulating Libraries.
�THE SECRET OF HERBART
�X
�The Secret of Herbart
AN ESSAY ON
THE SCIENCE OF EDUCATION
BY
F. H. HAYWARD, D.Lir., M.A., B.Sc.,
Author of “The Critics of Herbartianismf “ The Reform of Moral and Biblical Education,
“ The Educational Ideas of Pestalozzi and Fr'obel ” etc.
REVISED AND ENLARGED
[ISSUED, BY ARRANGEMENT WITH MESSRS. SWAN SONNENSCHEIN AND CO., LTD.,
FOR THE RATIONALIST PRESS ASSOCIATION, LIMITED]
London :
WATTS & CO.,
17, JOHNSON’S COURT, FLEET STREET, E.C.
1907
�TO
PROFESSOR JOHN ADAMS,
FROM WHOM HE HAS LEARNT SO MUCH,
THIS LITTLE WORK IS DEDICATED BY
THE AUTHOR.
�CONTENTS
PAGE
Preface to New Edition
-
-
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7
Preface
First Edition
-
-
-
io
Herbart -
-
-
-
15
to
The Secret
of
Appendices—
I.—The Primary Curriculum II.—“ Teachers do not Read Books on
Education ”
III. —Herbart and Frobel IV. —The Faculty Doctrine
V.—The Moral Instruction League
VI.—Science and the “ Humanities ”
VII.—The Bible in Schools
VIII.—Some Prevalent Errors about Herbartian Teaching
-
64
69
69
71
75
77
77
80
�“The half-educated, unskilled pretenders, professing impossible
creeds and propounding ridiculous curricula, to whom the unhappy
parents of to-day must needs entrust the intelligences of their children ;
these heavy-handed barber-surgeons of the mind, these schoolmasters
with their ragtag and bobtail of sweated and unqualified assistants, will
be succeeded by capable, self-respecting men and women, constituting
the most important profession of the world.”—H. G. Wells, Anticipations,
“ Education is the only thing that can do away with those internal
evils that disturb the peace and threaten the existence of the nation—
labour troubles, saloon politics, haunts of vice, slum-life, and the like.
These things exist because a large body of our people, from want of
education to open up to them the world of great movements, and noble
interests and employments, are condemned to narrow, sordid lives,
and petty or vicious interests. We disinherit them of the spiritual
treasures of humanity.......and then we wonder why they are vulgar,
mean, squalid, discontented, and rebellious. We make all the nobler
delights impossible for them, and then we wonder why they take to
vulgar delights........ If we would quench interest in the saloon, the pool
room, the dance-hall, the dive, the low theatre, we must off-set them
by something rousing a warmer and more enduring interest........
Teachers, of all people, must be endowed with the missionary spirit.”
—T. Davidson, History of Education.
1 ‘ The individuality must first be changed through widened interest
...... before teachers can venture to think they will find it amenable to
the general obligatory moral law........ While morality is rocked to sleep
in the belief in transcendental powers, the true powers and means
which rule the world are at the disposal of the unbeliever.”—J. F.
Herbart, Allgemeine Pädagogik.
�PREFACE TO NEW EDITION
This work is no treatise, and can never sentatives of two professional classes—the
be made into one. It is an essay. Never average priest or preacher and the average
theless, the writer has attempted in this teacher or school manager. Of the former
new edition to touch rather more fully he may ask as to the causes of moral
than in the first upon sundry educational evil; the latter he may question about his
matters of current importance, so that the favourite school subjects, or about correla
reader, by means of incidental hints, if not tion, or about the moral value of geography.
of detailed treatment, may see such matters To both of them he may quizzingly throw
out the hint that, after all, secular subjects
in something of their true perspective.
Still, to make teachers interested in the are only “ secular ”; and the answer from
vital issues of their work is a more valuable both will be an assent tempered with a
task than the dropping of any number of platitude. It is the writer’s firm and
useful “hints.” The original essay was almost painful conviction that few men
mainly an attempt to arouse this interest, realise the ramifications of apperception,
and it is hoped that the purpose will be or its relations to interest and character ;
equally obvious amid the . additions that and that, in consequence of this inadequate
comprehension, the curricula, methods, and
have been made.
status of our schools suffer incalculably.
Such faults as are inherent in the book—
repetitions, omissions, and what may appear, Herbartianism is certainly original in the
in the judgment of some, either as extra sense of Oliver Wendell Holmes1: “A
vagances or as affirmations of the obvious thought is often original, though you have
—will probably be almost as apparent in uttered it a hundred times. It has come
the new as in the old edition, though the to you over a new route, by a new and
writer has made some attempt to remove express train of associations.” Or, as a
them. The changes, however, are mainly further test, the reader may study some
additions, and these take the form of notes of the works on education written by men
untouched by Herbartian thought, works
and appendices.
It may not be out of place to admit, for such as the following (arranged in crescendo
the benefit of new readers, that there is order of merit) : Mr. H. Gorst's Curse of
nothing absolutely original, nothing that Education, Bishop Creighton’s Thoughts
should be a “ secret,” in Herbartianism or on Education, Mr. Benson’s Schoolmaster,
in this book. The most valuable truths and Thring’s Theory and Practice of
are generally the most obvious, though Teaching. The omission of almost any
rarely the most regarded. If anyone should reference—even the most untechnical—to
doubt that this is so in the present case,
1 Autocrat of the Breakfast Table.
he has only to betake himself to repre I
�s
PREFACE TO NEW EDITION^
apperceptive interest is most striking, she claims, with supernatural aids and
though Thring (to be sure) is sometimes graces, knows them to be futile apart from
on the verge of the doctrine. What is the the purely natural means employed by the
explanation ? Are we to accuse these teacher. If called to the improbable
authors of blindness to obvious truth, choice between losing the first of her
ignorance of a far-reaching educational sacraments and losing the power of edu
principle ? If apperceptive interest is all cating the young, the Church would choose
that the Herbartians claim, why are not the former loss, knowing in her heart that
other men than the Herbartians urging it the “faith” of a “good Catholic” is not
in their educational writings ? There is implanted by a baptism of water—as her
blunder, ignorance, or delusion somewhere. formularies assert—but by an early and
The writer has the same lurking fear in persistent rain of Catholic ideas. And
the present year that there is a strain of what is true of the first is also true of the
fallacy or unsoundness somewhere in this greatest of her sacraments. Apart from
book as he had when it was first published; the faith and the thrills and the sugges
but as no one has demonstrated this, and tions implanted by a Catholic education,
as he cannot discover it for himself, he feels the body of Christ would lie disregarded
no compunction in seeing the book placed and unknown on every Catholic altar ;
before a larger circle of readers. If there while, conversely, though the sacramental
is any truth in the doctrines here set power were mysteriously to fail throughout
forward, there is value in emphasising it the world some fateful morning, switched
for the sake of those thousands of teachers off to another universe, the heads of
whose daily work seems often so dull and Catholic worshippers would still sink at
insignificant. To be the victim of a few the sound of the consecration bell, and the
educational fallacies is a small price to transubstantiation miracle would still be
pay for an exalted sense of one’s own daily thought and felt to have taken place.
calling. The writer’s conviction that at
Thus the power of the teacher, or of the
the present juncture this should be the priest as teacher, is immeasurably greater
main purpose of every book on education than that of the priest as priest; the latter
is so intense that he proposes to add at power depends on the former, and would
this point a few remarks for further em wither to nothingness without it. When
phasis.
in the Catholic confessional a school
In the Secret of Herbart a claim is put mistress pours out to some confessor the
forward that, as a moral force, apperceptive story of her omissions and peccadilloes,
interest is at least an equal of religion. a trained eye can penetrate behind the veil
Recent events in the political world prompt of appearance, and see that to the kneeling
to a further development of the theme. penitent, not to her ghostly father, have the
We have a right to ask, “ What could re real power and authority over Catholic
ligion itself do apart from education ?”
minds been given.
Moral triumphs may in a myriad of cases
And that is why Churches stir uneasily
be attributed with fairness to religion ; but at every successive Education Bill. Their
religion has to depend upon education for Genius is rebuked in the presence of this
much of her authority and fascination. other Genius of education. “ In his royalty
Even the Catholic Church, endowed, as of nature reigns that which would be
�9
EEEEACE TO NEW EDITION
feared.” If any teacher of this country
craves for the stimulus of compliments
to hearten him amid his round of daily
duties, none surely is more consoling than
this, that pope and bishop and priest admit
and parade their impotence without him ;
and, amid a miscellaneous crowd of physi
cians, merchants, and military men, kneel
beseechingly at his feet. The religion, the
health, the wealth, and the renown of the
British nation would appear to depend
upon him ; at the door of his schoolhouse
all roads meet. And, as the earnest educa
tionist watches with some curiosity the
motley throng, he will confess that, if the
loud-voiced claim for dogmatic religious
instruction can justify itself by fruitful and
blessed lives, his own aversion to dogma
must not be cast in the opposite scale. If
education means character-forming, and if
character-forming is impossible or prob
lematic without dogma, the duty of the
educationist is plain. Dogma there must
be, at all costs. And this suggests an ex
periment.
If towns where the Anglican and Roman
Churches have had their will can show a
markedly high type of youth and citizen—
the former more earnest than the youths of
other towns, the latter more generous and
high-minded than the citizens of other
towns—the claim of the two Churches will
be established on an immovable basis.
There is Preston, there is Torquay, there
is many another town where every public
school is, and has been, Anglican or
Roman. A Commission of six men could
determine in as many months whether
these towns were superior or inferior in
morals and manners to Board School
towns of similar type ; and the controversy
of 1906 would be settled for ever.
In one regard, at least, the clergy are
right. Education is no mere process of
“drawing-out.” It is formative, masterful.
The child has to be baptised into a new
life ; and, though the baptism which the
Anglo-Catholic or the Roman Catholic
holds technically to be the means of spiri
tual birth is not the Herbartian baptism of
ideas, it has this in common therewith—
that the recipient is not the agent, and that
the crisis is one of life or death. It is
because the educational issues are great,
that in the Secret of Herbart the writer has
constantly, unblushingly, and perhaps some
times offensively, paralleled them with those
of religion. The veil of grey commonplace
that hangs before the eyes of ten thousand
teachers has to be rent, and the Secret of
Herbart seeks to rend it.
This, then—the power of apperception—is the message of the present book. And
even if there are patent exaggerations and
latent fallacies in its pages, the writer
believes that the message was worth
delivering. In this present age, when the
hearts of many are failing them for fear,
and sincere men sometimes question
whether by opposing credulity they are
not doing a positive disservice to mankind,
it is good to know that there is work which
we need not doubt about; educational work
which helps to raise the race morally and
spiritually, while adding nothing to the
power or prestige of the forces of reaction.
F. H. H.
London, Christmas, 1906.
�»
PREFACE (revised) TO THE FIRST EDITION
The public—whose favourable reception
of several recent works by the present
writer has moved his grateful thanks—
deserve an apology for the appearance of
a new book on the old subject. There is
nothing here that is positively fresh, nothing
that cannot be inferred by any one who
chooses to think out the implications of
the apperception doctrine. Neither does
the work contribute to the department of
methodology. The writer feels that others?
with more varied experience and more
opportunities for observation than have
fallen to his lot, can speak with far greater
authority than he upon matters of that
kind ; and, indeed, with such Herbartians as Professor Adams at work upon
questions of methodology, there is no
need to anticipate any neglect of this
department. Instead, therefore, of present
ing a system of Herbartian doctrine, he
has preferred to expound the one or two
central thoughts which constitute its
essence, and seem so vitally needed by
the education of to-day—thoughts which
have a closer bearing upon the character
and the destiny of the nation than any
other thoughts that he can expound.
Among the immediate causes which have
led to the writing of a work following with
such unusual haste upon others, these may
be assigned :—
(i) Such a growth in the writer’s own
convictions as to make him distrust the
somewhat crude panegyrics of vielseitige
Interesse in which he has previously in
dulged. He still believes that the pro
clamation of the Interest gospel is among
the most vital needs of the age ; but he
feels that the springs of Interest have been
inadequately investigated and expounded,
not only by others, but by himself. The
real “ Secret of Herbart ” may remain a
secret, even though “Interest” be pro
claimed on every housetop.
(2) A fear—almost a certainty—that the
new Education Committees are likely to
apply the wrong remedies to our many
educational diseases. There is some pro
bability that England is about to settle
down to another thirty years of educa
tional routine ; but there is still greater
probability that such remedies as are
applied will merely accentuate the
greatest evil of all by drawing attention
from it into other directions. The
humble experiment which the writer
made has convinced him, more than ever,
that Herbart was right, and that the chief
key to the educational situation lies in the
apperception doctrine.
(3) Lastly, a desire for full, frank, and
remorseless criticism. Is this doctrine non
sense? If it be nonsense, and Herbartianism a plausible delusion, or if the
doctrine be merely commonplace in its
importance, the sooner we devote ourselves
to humbler things than thinking about
the moral regeneration of man by means
of education the better for us all. We
will then essay to struggle on as of old,
using instruments that have lost much
of their significance, and performing, in
a more humble and contrite spirit, the
�PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION
commonplace duties assigned by tradition
to the schoolmaster. The mystery of life
will come back ; the veil will fall again over
the springs of conduct. Once more we
shall look upon our fellows to see each of
them torn by a conflict between the angel
and the devil within ; and we shall ask
despairingly what it all means. If, how
ever, the apperception doctrine is not non
sense, but sober truth, we shall be driven
on to the inference that not in the church
alone, but in the school, will the mission
aries of the future have to work, equipped,
not with Hebrew and Greek, but with psy
chology, ethics, and zeal.
The present work is thus a challenge as
well as a creed. Few as are the men in
England capable of answering the questions
with authority, the writer deliberately asks
them : “ Is this apperception doctrine right
or wrong, and can apperception be brought
about by means of instruction, and if
brought about can it pass over into action
and character?” He is not conscious of
any flaw in his argument, but there may be
one. As an educational system, Herbartianism seems to him to have no errors, so
far as it goes ; to the extent of its own
message it appears absolutely andfaultlessly
true; at the same time, the writer’s experi
ence is not such as to guarantee that he
is infallibly right in holding and promul
gating views so momentous of result.
Already he has come to realise—as a few
years ago he had not clearly realised—that
Frobel has a “ secret” as well as Herbart;
and the vision of a third “ secret ” is rising
before him, “a synthesis of Herbart and
Frobel.”1 He is, in short, humbled by a
consciousness of how much in education is
uncertain; and he therefore asks, with
utter sincerity, that critical minds in
ii
England capable of the task will do him
the honour of criticising this book. It may
be “ suggestive,” and “ stimulating,” and all
the rest; the writer wishes to know whether
it is true. This, surely, should not be hard
to decide, as the central thought of the
book is unmistakable.
One criticism, at least, is easy to offer.
If the writer’s views are so transitional, why
publish them at all ? Because British edu
cation needs, above everything else, views
of some sort; at present there are prac
tically none, as is shown by the fact that
no teacher dreams of calling himself an
Herbartian or a Pestalozzian ; and, though
a few enthusiastic lady teachers call them
selves Frobelians, it is very doubtful whether
many school managers know what any one
of the three terms means. All talk about
educational “ progress,” whether at political
caucuses or at teachers’ conferences, is
unmitigated nonsense until some definite
views, theories, or ideals are possessed by
the teachers of this country. Once these
exist, there is a basis for criticism and
progress; a basis, too—though few teachers
seem to realise the fact—for the establish
ment of professional dignity on firm founda
tions. But, without views, teachers will be
for ever the catspaws of managers and
officials no wiser than themselves, and
such a thing as a unified and manageable
curriculum will not exist. In fact, the
doctrine of the curriculum has scarcely
ever been seriously discussed in England
until the year 1903, such pedagogical
progress as may have taken place having
been concerned only with methodology.
Nay, we even hear of educationists who
tell us that “it doesn’t matter what we
teach, but howH The “ Theory of
1 The writer ventures to stigmatise this as the
1 Professor Welton’s suggestive phrase in a most criminally stupid fallacy at present circulatI ing in the world. Luckily no one really believes
recent number of the fournal of Education.
�12
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION
the Curriculum,” to which Dorpfeld con and not a profession, they must expect
tributed so substantially, is virtually to be treated as such by a nation which
an untrodden field for English educa possesses quite as clear views as them
tionists. Yet it is perhaps a far more selves. For, after all, the nation has to
important field than methodology. There pay, and teachers are not reticent in urging
are plenty of teachers—perhaps the writer that fact. Let, then, the nation realise
is one—who, as practical methodologists, that it pays for clear views and for zeal.
would take only a low educational place;
To return. Despite the immensity of
who possess little skill in pursuing Socratic the claims put forward in these pages, the
or other methods of questioning, or in writer’s attitude is, in large measure, apolo
arranging a lesson according to the five getic. Not that he asks any indulgence
Herbartian steps; and yet are quite capable for errors, or crudities, or inequalities ; but
of being useful and, perhaps, inspiring he comes forward feeling how immense
teachers, in view of the fact that they and untrodden is the field, how provisional
believe in teaching and have clear views must be even the most sincere work, how
upon the relative importance of subjects. little he knows, how unbalanced his judg
It is to the two matters just mentioned that ment may be—nay, how unworthy in a
the present work is a contribution. Cer score of ways he must appear to those
tainly, until there exist sound views upon who know him best when compared with
the last subject, education will continue— many of the men who, though adorning
as the able primary teacher mentioned on the ranks of secondary and primary educa
p. 34 expresses it—to be regarded as “ a tion, have never ventured to put forward
dumping ground”for all kinds of subjects such gigantic claims as those of the present
and “fads.” “A science of education,” book. Yet, though he feels all this, he
the present writer has elsewhere said, feels also that there are matters of momen
“ would solve the religious difficulty,” and tous importance which, though some do not
also, be it now added, the ever-present see so clearly as himself, yet deserve to be
difficulty of the overcrowded curriculum. expounded. No one has ever claimed that
But teachers, though constantly feeling the the messenger who thinks he delivers an
pressure of the situation, are strangely blind important message must himself be imma
to the only possible source of relief. Let culate. Disregarding, then, the criticisms
them once convince the nation that they which his own mind suggests, the writer
are the expositors of a science, though gives these pages to the world, convinced
perhaps an embryonic science, and also that they carry either a message of farthe apostles of a gospel, and the nation will reaching significance, or a plausible delusion
cease to harass them with vexatious inter which had better be cleared out of the
ferences. But so long as they studiously way as soon as possible. In ten years
discount “ideals” and “theories,” and time his judgment may be more mature,
rarely spend sixpence upon the philosophy his knowledge of education far more exten
of education ; so long, in fact, as they con sive. But—a decade more will have gone
fess themselves to be followers of a trade by ; millions more of children may have
passed through our schools mentally
it, though many try to believe it, and think it starved; educational machinery may be
sounds well.
moving with such a smoothness that
�PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION
automata may be directing it; or, possibly,
the educational chariot may have begun to
travel rapidly at last—in the wrong direc
tion.
Still, though the writer challenges criti
cism on the central ideas of this book, he
does not ask for any petty criticism of the
usual anti-Herbartian type. The standard
objections to the supposed doctrines of
Herbart have little practical bearing on
these central ideas. “Interest,” someone
will say, “is largely dependent on heredi
tary endowment”; the answer is that
though this is true (and was recognised by
Herbart), no interest can spring up in a
vacuum ; the Herbartian element of apper
ception is vital, at any rate in all the know
ledge departments. The real question is :
“ Given a normal mind (geniuses and
imbeciles are not the special concern of
the schoolmaster), does Herbart give a
true hint of the means by which the
mighty protective and directive force of
interest can be generated ?”
Again, the standard objection to the
term “ many-sided ” as applied to interest
is, in the opinion of the writer, partly at
least justified. He does not drop the term
entirely, but he thinks it will some day
have to be dropped in place of a better
one.
The real crux of the book is found on
p. 47. Pages 36-40 expound a subject of
vast importance, but one where agreement
is fairly easy. If the factor discussed on
p. 47 is really vital to the moral life, the
main outlines of the primary curriculum
begin at once to appear.
One personal matter. It may be said
that the gloomy picture drawn in some
parts of the book is an unfair one. Primary
education in the north of England and in
London is in a far better condition than
primary education in the rural districts of
13
the south. But the writer has never worked
in the north or in London,1 and only speaks
of what he knows at first hand. In so
speaking he trusts that he has said nothing
to give offence, least of all to those who,
amid the appalling conditions which obtain
in the less cultured districts (where towns
exist which have never, since they came
into existence, possessed any educational
institution except of the crudest kind), are
doing what they can to raise the mental
level. One fact is undeniable, and should
fill teachers with acutest anxiety and
perhaps reproach : there are whole districts
in England where the word '’''education ” is a
more hateful word than the word" drunken
ness ”; where the best passport to municipal
success is to promise to cripple education by
financial parsimony ; and where the mental
life is centuries behind that of Japan (a
country in which, as Meiklejohn’s Geo
graphy tells us, “people are eager to
learn and very willing to pay well for it ”).
It is true that the primary teacher has
been, in years past, astonishingly efficient
from the point of view of the 1861 code:
he has performed tasks which one would
have thought impossible; he has made,
under official pressure, the most un
promising human material capable of
reading, writing, and “working sums”—
after a fashion. It is a daily wonder to the
present writer how country schoolmasters,
with their staff of two or three boys and
their six score of raw children, can teach
anything whatever, and do it on a salary
that forbids the purchase of a book. But
1 From more recent experience the writer
would modify some of the statements of this
book. But, though much of the educational
work done in London schools is of a high
order, the doctrine of apperceptive interest is
almost as much needed in the metropolis as
elsewhere. The many strong points of London
schools are not those upon which stress is laid
in the Secret of Herbart.
�14
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION
though, considering the means at their I The facts that education is a detested
disposal, our primary teachers have earned i thing in many districts, that the most
their salaries ten times over, the fact popular subjects in evening schools are
remains that our primary system seems to ■ those that have been untouched by the
have contributed little to the culture, morals, i day schools, and that town after town
or ideals of the age. The name “ educa | will refuse to support a free library, are
tion ” is more hated now, in many districts, sufficient to show that his boast is ill
than it was at the middle of the past founded. If “ practice ” has failed to create
century.
a taste for books and for education, it is
Teachers are no longer enslaved to a time that “theory” and “ideals” should
rigid curriculum, and they will no longer have a chance. It is time, in short, for the
be glaringly underpaid. Social repute they I teacher to make a fresh start, and for
will not acquire for many years, and pro- I education no longer to be open to the
motion to official positions will be barred ' reproach sometimes brought against the
to them so long as, in this country, these , dramatist Euripides—that, though his plays
remain the monopoly of a certain social j are full of power, full of excellences in
class, whose youths “ look forward as a i detail, he does not seem to know “ what
matter of course to positions and appoint- ! he is driving at.”
ments, for the want of which men of gifts j Two final remarks. The writer would
and capacity from other social strata break ' have liked to quote, in extenso, the recent
their hearts, and they will fill these coveted pronouncements of Sir Oliver Lodge on
places with a languid, discontented inca education and sociology. They serve to
pacity.” 1 But, despite the serious hindrances show that thoughtful men who are not
that will continue to cling about the work avowed Herbartians are moving towards
of the primary teacher, the fact remains Herbart’s position on questions of curri
that upon him, and not upon his languid culum, interest, and the like.1
Lastly, though a reply to Professor
or vigorous “ superiors,” rests the real
educational task ; it is in his schoolroom, James, this work is rather a reply to a
and not in their bureau, that the forces single expression used by that great psycho
making the future are mainly at work. The logist than to his work as a whole. The
most powerful official in England would not Talks to Teachers is, in most matters, a
deny that, nor take exception to the writer’s strongly Herbartian book.
The author wishes to thank several
remarks on page 20.
But one fetish the primary teacher must friends for assistance and advice.
finally and scornfully abandon—the fetish
F. H. H.
that he is, in some specially notable and
Easier, 1904.
impressive sense, a “practical” worker.
1 H. G. Wells, in Mankind in the Making.
1 See Appendix IV.
�THE SECRET OF HERBART
The most eminent of American psycho
logists complains that “ the conscientious
young teacher is led to believe that the
word ‘ Apperception ’ contains a recon
dite and portentous secret? by losing
the true inwardness of which her whole
career may be shattered........ Now, ‘ ap
perception ’ is an extremely useful word
in pedagogics, and offers a convenient
name for a process to which every teacher
must frequently refer. But it verily
means nothing more than the act of
taking a thing into the mind.”1
2
From thirty or forty thousand pulpits
comes the cry of “ Sin—sin—sin.” And
the louder the cry rises the less does
the world seem to listen. In Bethnal
Green, as a recent census shows, one
person out of eighteen attends Sunday
morning public worship ; one person out
of nine attends on Sunday evening. If
the churches, on the present basis, are to
be the sole agency for suppressing sin,
then sin will never be suppressed, for
people would seem to be growing less
and less responsive to appeal from that
source.
The following work is intended to
show:—
(1) That the word “Apperception”
does contain a secret which, though not
“recondite,” is immensely “portentous.”
(2) That, by losing or never acquiring
“ the true inwardness ” of this “ secret,”
a teacher’s whole career, and a nation’s
career also, are in danger of being
“ shattered.”
(3) That, though “Apperception” may
involve “ nothing more than the act of
taking a thing into the mind,” the things
taken in may sometimes be nothing less
than “airs from heaven” counteractive
of “ blasts from hell.”
(4) That, in fine,the “Apperception”
doctrine has well-nigh incalculable moral,
social, and spiritual implications.
But the schools are filled to overflow
ing ; and he who looks upon them and
sees their doors thronged with those who
are not, and perhaps never need become,
“ sinners,” is driven to ask whether it is
not at these crowded doors, rather than
at the portals of the churches, that the
problem of evil awaits solution. Would
not one-tenth of the devotion now
lavished—in great measure ineffectively
—upon “ missionary ” or “ rescue ”
work, or upon the necessary but thankless
work of cherishing in a kindly way the
useless and infirm, serve, if directed along
more rational and scientific lines, to make
education into the most powerful of all
agencies for the suppression of evil ?
This is at least conceivable.
1 Italics ours.
2 James, Talks to Teachers.
But education—as those at least in the
southern rural counties know—has not
�i6
THE SECRET OF HERBART
realised the high hopes once placed upon
it. Judged by any test we choose to
apply, education has failed.
(i) Morally—using the term in the
narrow sense—thefailure is unmistakable.
We may be less brutally callous to suffer
ing than our ancestors; it is doubtful
whether we are more strenuous, pure, or
self-denying. Often it seems as if, in
place of every evil grappled with or
suppressed, some new evil, or some new
folly, generates itself out of nothing
before our eyes.1 True, the Church as
well as the school must be regarded as
responsible, in a measure, for this failure;;
gambling, intemperance, and foul lan
guage (if we may believe the first Moselyr
Commission) are far less prevalent among;
American workmen, brought up in1
“ secular ” schools and in a country where*
there is little or no official recognition of’
religion, than in our own. But for one:
department—that of “ minor morals ”—■
the school is almost alone responsible,
and here the failure is overwhelming.
So far as the duties of courtesy and
decency are concerned, the words of the
Globe newspaper2 hold good: “ The
manners of the rising generation are
non-existent.”
(2) Take another standard—that of
interests awakened or created by the
school.
Where, outside a few great towns, can
we find intellectual keenness ? What
subject taught in our schools attracts
pupils, disinterestedly, after school days
are over ?
In one borough of 14,000 inhabitants
1 Popular betting on horses is a new evil ;
slavery to tobacco (as distinct from moderate
indulgence) is a new evil.
2 February 3rd, 1902.
there were, in 1902, some three or four
students, exclusive of primary teachers,
studying elementary chemistry.
In another borough, small, but regarded
by its 3,000 inhabitants as progressive,
not one student, exclusive of teachers
who had to study the subject, was willing
to pay a shilling for a course of lessons
in chemistry. A disinterested desire for
the subject simply did not exist. “La
république n’a pas besoin de chimistes.”
Even in the continuation schools of
London the attendance for all subjects
except those that are purely utilitarian is
meagre in the extreme. History, literature, might almost as well not exist.
No ; from the point of view of interests
roused or created, our schools would
appear to be worse than failures. Pupils
enter them at six full of inquisitiveness ;
they leave them full of mental apathy.
It is no wonder, therefore, that Harwich
and Fareham and Marylebone reject by
public vote the offers of Mr. Carnegie.
What have Harwich and Fareham and
Marylebone to do with books and
libraries? “ How the London poor should
love Dickens ! But—with his books
always obtainable—they can scarce be
said to read him at all.”1
(3) Take a lower standard yet—that of
mere knowledge conferred and dexterity
attained.2
Questioning the evening school pupils
once entrusted to his charge, a teacher
known to the writer discovered that
none of them could find, by practical
measurement, the volume of a wooden
cube ; that not one knew the distinction
1 Gissing’s Dickens.
* Things in this respect are probably better, on
the whole, than what is here represented, though
the statements made are facts. People familiar
with our well-staff d London schools can scarcely
conceive of rural conditions.
�77Z# secret of herbart
17
between a planet and a fixed star, or the
relation of our solar system to the rest
of the universe; and that not one knew
the causes of the seasons. In a class
for elementary mathematics the question,
“ What is the difference between twelve
and twenty ?” or, “If twenty is divided
into two parts, one of them being twelve,
what is the other part?” gave perplexity
to the youths in their teens, who only
recently had been pupils in a rural
primary school; English literature was
positively a sealed book; Jewish pro
phetic literature, and the immense
influence exerted upon it by the Assyrian
and other invasions and influences, were
unknown.
perhaps a boy of fifteen who cannot
speak English and has never touched
genuine literature in his life—can no
more teach anything, even the boasted
three R’s, than he can build a palace
or work a miracle. But in the towns
the results are often as unsatisfactory
as in the country districts.
The
primary school in a thousand districts
has implanted no tastes at all, and the
pupils leave it at the age of fourteen with
significant willingness.
Like Marius
amid the ruins of Carthage, the evening
school teacher, surrounded by half-filled
copy-books and tattered manuals of
arithmetic, is virtually standing in the
midst of ruins—the ruins of an ideal.
(4) Take a lower standard yet. Five
Dashshire boys out of ten, if asked what
school they attend, will answer, “ I goes
to — School”; and scarcely two out of
the ten will be able to compose, and to
utter so as to be heard distinctly five
yards away, a grammatical sentence of
moderate length.
For there was once an ideal in England,
dimly discerned, perhaps, and discerned
only by a few ; but nevertheless an ideal
possessing some promise and possibility.
The literature of the middle decades of
the nineteenth century shows that there
was, on the part of many an artisan, some
eagerness to learn; and though primary
teachers were fewer than now, and pos
sessed but little training and no preten
sions, their eyes were fixed on the future ;
there was hope and there was open
ness of mind. Pestalozzi’s influence in
England may not have been great, but it
was present. Education had a spirit of
its own ; disillusionment had not come.
Learning may not have been held in
much esteem, but it was not, as now,
regarded over whole regions with aversion
and contempt. Books of “ self-instruc
tion” bear witness to this fact. Adam
Bede attended an evening school, and
his teacher was an enthusiast.
The second of these four standards—
for reasons that will be still more obvious
after the reading of this book—is the one
upon which most stress should be laid.
The evening school is as much now
the crucial test for the success of educa
tional work as, m years to come, it will
be the recruiting-ground for the forces of
good. If the day school has implanted
a love of knowledge, the evening school
will bear its witness to the fact. But it
bears none. The day school has failed,
and the reason lies partly, at least, in the
failure of teachers to realise the immen
sity of the mission to which they are
What has happened to change the
called. In country districts the failure fair though homely landscape to one
is almost inevitable; a pupil-teacher— from which colour and life seem absent?
c
�THE SECRET OF HERBART
Alas, we know.
In 1861 occurred
the saddest event, perhaps, in English
history—the establishment of the “payment-by-results ” system in the primary
schools of this country ; the official
denial to the poor of this land of a
humanising culture ; the official behest
to the teachers of the land to throw every
ideal into the dust. The very years in
which Ziller was first promulgating a
scheme of “ educative instruction ”—in
struction that should humanise and form
character — were the years in which
England first caught sight of this Gorgonhorror ; a horror so intense that to this
hour the primary education of England
remains, in a measure, frozen and para
lysed.1
teachers to the cause of education—
men like Arnold, Thring, and Bowen
in the secondary ranks \ men like
F. J. Gould and many another in the
primary ranks; a host also of noble
women ; but to the clear and scientific
comprehension of educational ideas and
methods she has, until recently, scarcely
contributed anything at all. This is
illustrated by the disastrous answer
above quoted, that the “ Three R’s ” are
the most vital subjects in the primary
curriculum.
If the Herbartians have any message
worth hearing, it is that, except as means
to an end, the “Three R’s ” have but the
smallest educational significance.1 Dorpfeld and Ziller are here at one. ‘‘ Despise
There are men even now1 who would ‘theory’ if you will, ye long-suffering
2
fain bring back, in a modified form, the and long-protesting teachers; but, until
methods of those thirty frightful years. ye have framed for yourselves an educa
Asked what are the most important tional ideal, determined the relative
subjects in the primary curriculum, they value of subjects as measured by the
will answer, “The Three R’s.” Nay, standard of that ideal, and formulated a
even teachers themselves will give this curriculum in accordance with it, ye will
answer, as if fascinated by the vampire continue to be subjected to the aggres
sions of officials exactly as fog-bound as
that has taken their blood.
yourselves; harassed by that constant
Many who hear the pæans raised in multiplication of subjects which ye daily
praise of German educational thought deplore; and humiliated by the sense
are tempted to ask whether the pæans that ye are not a profession of scientific
are not too loud. Has not England con specialists, but the mere 1 cave-dwellers ’
tributed something to education ? Is not that Professor Adams has called some of
the most distinguishing mark of German your fellowship.”
educational literature its immense and
The Code of 1861 has done its work.
bitter and trivial verbosity ? The answer
is that England has contributed noble Only exceptionally is a primary school
master, in the less favoured districts,
1 And yet that system was introduced with a reader of books, a “ local light,”
the best of motives. Primary education was not
all that it should have been; so the “practical a man of ideas. “ Teachers do not
man,” Mr. Robert Lowe, came to the rescue. read books on education,” was said to
And the practical man has been coming to the the present writer by an experienced
rescue ever since, just because a “ Science of
Education” has not yet won any measure of
popular recognition or esteem.
2 Schoolmaster, February 6th, 1904.
1 In an appendix the question of the “ Three
R’s ” is discussed at some length.
�THE SECRET OF HERBAR T
manager of a book store, who, as he said
the words, seemed not to realise their
frightful import.
Nay, further, it is
extremely doubtful whether, in the whole
of England, there are many members of
education committees who have ever
heard of Comenius, Pestalozzi, or Her
bart ; or many who would spend a florin
on a book dealing with education per se;
or many who wish to learn, or believe
in the possibility of learning, anything
fresh about education. In their hearts,
these people, the best in England, believe
with Dr. Johnson that “ education is as
well known, and has long been as well
known, as ever it can beand even
inspectors, who, if any men, should be
in the forefront of educational thought,
differ widely upon every question of
policy or principle. Quite often the
official “ prizes ” of the educational world
fall to men who do not even profess to
know educational principles, to men of
other and alien professions, to clerks in
or out of holy orders. The notion that
those principles exist—for those who
choose to seek them with the sweat of
their brow—has not yet dawned upon
us. Education is regarded as some
thing between a knack and a nuisance.
And, after all, teachers, managers,
and inspectors are not much to blame.
Why should they study educational prin
ciples when, to all appearance, such prin
ciples do not exist? Where can they
find—to give an example of our present
condition—an authoritative encyclo
paedia of education ? Whom are we to
believe, whom to follow ? Are there
five professors of education in the country
exerting any influence outside the circle
of their own pupils ? Does not London
support Herbart, and Edinburgh try to
oppose him ? Is it true that “ there are
19
scarcely three teachers of mark in
England who work on the same lines,”
and that “ our study of education is in
its infancy”?1 Are not Commoners at
this moment urging, some that “children
live on dogma,” others that dogma is the
last thing that children can grasp ? Are
not books on the philosophy of education
the dullest books that exist ?
Now, the truth is that education is one
of the most illimitable, untrodden, and
promising fields of research that can
anywhere be found. Instead of there
being nothing, there is almost every
thing for us to learn. Instead of having
well-nigh reached its perfection and
climax, it has scarcely yet entered upon
the career that is bound to be ultimately
so victorious. It is for this reason that
the indifference of teachers, inspectors,
and managers appears so strange. But
time is on the side of education. The
stars in their courses fight on its behalf.
No human prediction is so scientifically
reliable as the prediction that, sooner or
later, the immense significance of educa
tion—a significance not only intellectual
and economic, but moral and spiritual
also—will be recognised, and that with
this recognition will come a vast increase
in the esteem bestowed upon those who
choose (or chance) to adopt it as a pro
fession. Even now, despite the obvious
failure of recent years, one hears at times
wistful panegyrics of what education
might accomplish, though they who
panegyrise it most are far from having
consciously arrived at the standpoint to
be set forth in this book. However
small, indeed, may have been the educa
tional progress of this nation when esti
mated by an absolute standard, it has
1 Professor Findlay.
�20
THE SECRET OF HERBART
There are two ways in which educa-*
tion may come to a revival. The first
way is to pay for a revival; to offer high
rewards, in the form of exceptional
salaries, to all men who will contribute
substantially to educational thought.
This plan might ensure that some of the
ability now drawn off in other directions
would be devoted to the work where the
need is greatest of all. In fifty years’
time we should then, perhaps, have fifty
“ Superficially phenomenal and mo educational thinkers, and in five hundred
mentous.” Yes, the progress is almost years’ time a “ Science of Education.”
wholly on the surface, a progress in
externals ; in such things as buildings,
Unfortunately there exists no demand
salaries, organisation; in the complexity —or very little demand—for ideas;
(almost the unwieldiness) of the curricu scarcely any conception that it is just in
lum ; it is hardly a progress in ideas, in the absence of ideas where one of the
ideals, or in devotion.
Our public greatest dangers lies; certainly small
educational bodies pay their best salaries willingness to pay for ideas. Though
to men who, though once perhaps good we may, therefore, rightly contend that
teachers, have been persuaded to be the ideal schoolmaster should be regarded
teachers no longer, and are now adminis and remunerated as a professional man,
trative officials destined by the nature and even a man of research—the archi
of their new work to contribute only in tect of the mind being regarded as at
directly to teaching power; splendid least equal to the architect of bricks and
salaries to architects who, though they mortar, the physician of the mind equal
may inspect every school chimney in to the physician of the body; though we
existence, will leave education just where may rightly urge that a Science of Edu
they found it. Our public bodies spend cation—co ordinate with a Science of
much on fine buildings—forgetful that, Medicine and a Science of Architecture,
however desirable such buildings may be, and twenty times as significant as either
the greatest educational experiment of —is to come into existence, yet, unless
modern times was performed by Pesta- we can find some other and more power
lozzi in the poverty-stricken outhouses of ful lever than this, we must dismiss all
a convent; disregardful, too, of the hope of solid or early educational pro
strange fact that, if Pestalozzi were at this gress.
moment working as a schoolmaster in
As a profession, education has never
England, he would not receive a quarter
of the salary of some inspectorial supe yet had a chance; yet it is infallibly
rior. Nay, one asks, curiously, whether and demonstrably the calling of the
Pestalozzi — once a revolutionist and future, the one that will attract, in
always an unbusiness-like dreamer — coming decades and centuries, many of
would not be wholly ignored alike by the most original and devoted minds.
But it must first discover for itself some
committees and by Whitehall.
been superficially phenomenal and
momentous when the last few years are
alone taken into account; when, above
all, the fact is remembered that the best
men have never been attracted to the
cause. In Britain alone four professor
ship of education have recently been
filled—let us hope by men who know
the “nation’s need” and have a
message.
�THE SECRET OF HERBART
standpoint from which it will appear as
a truly “ portentous ” and vital matter ;
more portentous and vital than weary
details of church ritual, or the faith
healing ecstasies of an American neurotic.
Religion—nay, superstition herself—can
experience revivals; we read of the rise
of Methodism, we read of the Oxford
Movement, we read of the Christian
Scientists. Why, then, should not edu
cation have her revivals too ? Was not
Comenius the equal of Wesley, Pestalozzi
as great as Newman, Herbart greater
than Mrs. Eddy ? A revival, indeed, is
not only possible, but—if only education
can discover a standpoint for herself—
quite inevitable. Is there such a stand
point, or must educationists continue
to pursue their calling with divided aims
and cold hearts ? There is such a stand
point ; occupying it, teachers, as a class,
will catch a glimpse of an ideal that has
never yet, save to a few of their keenereyed fellows, revealed its stately propor
tions. And why, indeed, should educa
tion be without millennial dreams; or
why call them dreams that are so well
based on scientific necessities ?
The Rev. R. J. Campbell, a “ popular
preacher” who is a genuine thinker as
well as a preacher, has been recently
predicting a “ great revival ” in evangeli
cal religion.1 Is this, then, to be all
that the new century has to offer—a
repetition of paroxysms, which, once
passed, will leave mankind but little
changed? Is there no new ground to
break up ? Is evangelical Protestant
ism to hark back, as Anglicanism is
harking back, to vanished centuries;
seeking to animate old forms with a new
1 The prediction has since been realised, but
England seems much the same after all. Per
haps the reason is not far to seek. See p. 61.
21
spirit, or to dress the old spirit in new
forms ? The task may be a worthy one,
but there remains yet a finer, more
promising, and more original task still—
one that, in England, has never been
attempted at all; the task of animating
new forms with a new spirit; the task of
bringing about an educational revival, of
moving along lines never before trodden
by English feet. With twenty men of
Mr. Campbell’s calibre as leaders, this
task might be attempted ; but education
has scarcely any leaders at all, and those
that she has, scarcely realise that wellnigh every moral and social current of
the age is setting slowly in their direction,
and that they, if wise and far-seeing, can
direct those currents to mighty ends.
“ Scientific,” yes ; we will never forget
that some day there will be a “ Science
of Education,” even though we may
question whether educational revival will
have its origin solely in systematised
scientific thought. Such a “ science ”—
ever before the minds of those educa
tionists who have been influenced by
German thought—will be a body of
principles based securely on psychology
and kindred studies, consequently pos
sessing authority and adding dignity to
its exponents. The notion is a fine one,
and will some day—if more men of the
stamp of Professors Adams and Findlay
are raised up—be gloriously realised;
for in the writings of men like these we
see the coherent outlines of a new science
already beginning to appear. But, in
the belief of the present writer, this
scientific standpoint, taken alone, is not
the one that will effect any immediate
transformation, though it will do much ;
solving many of the perplexities and
contradictions of present-day effort, and
lifting those who follow education as a
�22
THE SECRET OF HERBART
calling some inches out of the profes
Wonderfully coherent will the whole
sional gutter in which they now lie.
subject become when once this stand
point is occupied. Wonderful the change
Our leading educationists almost in the status and the spirit of teachers.
without exception—even those who are Wonderful, also (to mention a minor
“scientific” in spirit, nay, even those point), the change in our way of regard
who, at times, catch a noble Pisgah view ing the function of educational journals,
of the future—speak with bated breath the best of which are now devoted to
and modest diffidence. They seem to the discussion of matters which, though
have but little faith in their subject and frequently of real importance, fail some
their profession.
They feel, perhaps how to reveal this importance—fail, in
rightly, that a “ Science of Education ” in fact, to force themselves on us as vital.
its completeness is still a far-off ideal; We ask, somewhat sceptically, whether
accordingly, they hesitate to suggest an articles on “ Individuality ” or the
aggressive forward movement; they “ Culture Stages ” possess, after all,
question whether the resources for it much real significance. “Is education
exist; their policy remains slow, cautious, really a very momentous matter?” we
tentative.
seem to hear our professors asking as
they post their manuscripts. “ Some
Their motives may be good, but the more words—words—words,” we seem
policy is fatal. There is no need to to hear editor and readers say, as the
wait for a completed “ Science of Educa article stands before them. In the
tion ” before inaugurating a forward highest as in the lowest ranks of the
movement. The scientific standpoint educational hierarchy, men look at each
pure and simple is probably not the other as the ancient augurs looked—with
one, be it repeated, from which the an ever-present inclination to laugh.
movement will start. There is another Now and then there comes a man seeing
standpoint. In ten years’ time educa dimly or clearly the unrealised possibili
tion may be revolutionised—if a few ties that lie in education; but, on the
hundred teachers choose to occupy this whole, educationists, “ scientific ” or
standpoint.
“ empirical,” do not appear to be very
much in earnest.
The whole case may be summed up
in a few words; and if these words can
There exists a view of things, an
be justified, they will convict almost attitude, a standpoint, which will change
every educationist in the country—even all this. Sooner or later teachers will
the most “scientific”—of working, partly come to realise that they have a great
at any rate, on the wrong lines. Educa part—the chiefpart—to play in battering
tion must be regarded primarily less as a down the ancientfortresses of evil. Those
science than as a gospel. Instead of there ancient fortresses still stand, defying all
being a “ Logical Basis of Education ”— puny present efforts to reduce them to
to use Professor Welton’s terminology— ruins. The mightier artillery of educa
there must first be an “ Ethical Basis.” tion has yet to be brought up, and, when
If this is “ scientific ” too, so much the brought up, it will be found to be, in the
better.
truest sense, “scientific.”
�THE SECRET OF HERBART
Sin, Vice, Moral Evil. But is there,
after all, any weapon by which this
monster may be slain? Perhaps none.
Is there any weapon by which it may
be reduced to comparative impotence ?
There are two, and probably only two,
if we except weapons like criminal law,
used by the State for its own purposes.
Two weapons, one consecrated by
centuries of use, the other well-nigh in
a sense—fresh from the armoury, lie
before us. Used in conjunction, they
will effect much; either, alone, will effect
something.
23
really difficult to ascertain. Religion, in
many of its forms, is a powerful ally of
morality, but it is not the sole ally, nor,
considering the prestige and the resources
at its disposal, has it proved itself a
very constant or able ally. Theie may
exist other allies whose value has been
hitherto underrated, perhaps even ignored
altogether.
This is implied in the words of Dr.
G. A. Smith: “Sin is the longest,
heaviest drift in human history....... Men
have reared against it government, educa
tion, philosophy, system after system of
The first, and the more ancient, is religion. But sin has overwhelmed them
religion. So great are the claims put all.”1
forward on its behalf that the mere
“ Overwhelmed them all ’’—even reli
whisper of the existence of other weapons,
perhaps equally or still more potent, will gion—even Christianity itself, as we shall
be heard with disfavour in many circles. see in a moment. The confession is a
Nothing but the Catholic Church, in true one, though presently the question
Newman’s belief, was able to baffle and will be asked, legitimately enough,
withstand “the fierce energy of passion,”1 whether the second of the barriers
and non-Catholic writers tell the same mentioned by Dr. Smith—education—
story of the “impotence of men in has ever been reared in earnest; whether
dealing with sin.”2 Preachers of all the erection of this barrier has not been
creeds, in fact, will tell us that without left to the despised ones of the earth ;
whether, in fact, the resources of educa
religion there can be no true morality
and even the atheist seems at times tion, as a moral agency, have ever been
willing to admit that some forms of seriously and designedly and intelligently
religion are powerful allies to virtue. called into play. But for the present
Yet, after all, there is no necessary con let us abide by Dr. Smith’s confession;
nection between the two. Some religions, and it amounts (among other things) to
like that of the ancient Phoenicians, this, that religion, though a barrier to sin,
were provocative of vice. Moreover, is not an invincible one. It may appear in
they who tell us that there can be no the end that sin cannot be wholly suppressed
true morality without religion will tell us by religion; therefore, to neglect the other
at another time—all unconscious of self- great force or forces by which this sup
contradiction—that mere morality avails pression may be, in part, accomplished
nothing, thus implying that there can be is well nigh a criminal procedure. What
mere morality—morality apart from reli the force or forces may be will appear
gion. The facts of the case are not later on. Here we have mainly to
1 Apologia.
* Rev. R. E. Welsh, In Relief of Doubt.
1 Isaiah, vol. i.
�24
THE SECRET OF HERBART
realise the significance of the statement
just made, because, if that statement is
true, it is indeed immensely significant.
Perhaps evil cannot be wholly suppressed
by religion alone.
Proof of this comes from the most
conclusive quarter — religious people
themselves. There is no need to use
the common, and not altogether repu
table, argument that an examination of
these religious people shows their lives
to be no better than the lives of others.
The argument—all things considered—
is not wholly fair, though fair enough
when used against those who claim reli
gion as the only moral panacea. No;
the best argument of all is found in the
Prayer Book, especially in the General
Confession and the Litany. Sin, we
there discover, rages still in the bosom
of the believer. Evil, in varied forms,
still strives for mastery. Nay, the most
intensely “ religious ” people — those
devoted wholly to an ascetic or “reli
gious ” life—daily confess to sins of
thought at least, which some more
prosaic people, engrossed in wholesome
“hobbies” and “secular” interests, in
politics, in book-reading, and so forth,
commit perhaps less or not at all.
ciously religious, boys are found to be in
sad trouble from ” one particular moral
foe.1
The evil here referred to “ is not
necessarily the indication of a coarse
nature. It is observable in refined,
intellectual, and even pious persons.”2
“ The boys whose temperament spe
cially exposes them to these faults are
usually far from destitute of religious
feelings; there is, and always has been,
an undoubted co-existence of religiosity
and animalism ; emotional appeals and
revivals are very far from rooting out
carnal sin; in some places they seem
actually to stimulate, even in the present
day, to increased licentiousness.”3
In view of facts like these there is
some temptation to take up the extreme
and probably unwarrantable position that
the function of religion is to give con
solation and rest rather than character
and conduct; “that by the doctrine
of forgiveness of sins, consequent on
repentance even in the last moments of
life, Christianity often favours spirituality
and salvation at the expense of morals ”;4
that the humble function of training
character and conduct falls to educa
tion and similar agencies; that “mere
morality ”—as preachers have before
to-day insisted—is something different
from that of which they are the guardians.
The standpoint is, be it repeated, unwar
rantable, because one-sided. What is
true and safe is this: that religion is
one barrier against sin, but it is not the
only one, nor is it invincible. “ Religious
faith,” a great educator has said, “instead
Evidence from outside — evidence
adduced by observant schoolmasters
and others who have been face to face
with intense forms of juvenile evil_
bears out this conclusion. And be it
here remembered that, though religion
has been often neglectful of the civic
and intellectual virtues, she has never
failed to hold up a high standard of
Rev. the Hon. E. Lyttleton, in Training
sexual morality. Let us take her, then,
of the Young in the Laws of Sex.
on the ground where she is strongest,
2 Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell, in Counsel to
“ Emotional, and sometimes preco
Parents.
3 Archdeacon Wilson, in Essays and Addresses.
4 Cotter Morison, in The Service ofMan.
�THE SECRET OF HERBART
of being the only source of goodness,
seems only one of many.”1
If anything in this book should be
thought to be a slight on the power, in
the human heart, of true religion, the
author would regret that the book existed.
Evil is too great a foe for any weapon to
be rejected. Happy the man who has
heard not only the message of Herbart,
but any message which, coming from the
unseen, serves to lighten the burdens of
life and solve the problems of existence.
But exaggerated praise of religion is as
nauseous as unjust depreciation; it is
not true, it has never been true, no
professor of ethics and no observer of
human life can claim as true, that
morality is solely dependent on religion.
Probably not more than one rhoral act
out of three springs from a motive which
can be called, in any strict sense,
religious. Goethe directed those who
were without art or science to go to
religion ; and the advice (as this book
will show) might be equally well reversed,
without disrespect to art, or science, or
religion.
What keeps a spirit wholly true
To that ideal which he bears?
What record ? not the sinless years
That breathed beneath the Syrian blue.”2
25
explain or to justify its voracity; a chasm
in the forum of human life ever remain
ing open, even though many a Curtius
throw himself, with his hopes and ambi
tions, into the gulf ? Or is it not rather
an intelligible effect, with definite causes
of its own ?
It is not intelligible, if we may believe
theological books. Be he orthodox or
heterodox, Catholic or Protestant, the
theologian gives up in despair the task
of explaining or accounting for sin.
Once admitted, he can seek, and does
seek, to fit it into schemes of salvation
or justification; but the thing itself
baffles him at every point. Now, the
reason why theologians should fail igno
miniously where Herbart succeeds
gloriously—for Herbart’s explanation,
even if not a complete one, is magni
ficently true so far as it goes—is that
they begin with the absolute, while,
educationally, he began with man.1 If
a hundred observers, with a psychological
equipment, would do likewise, and make
a point of investigating every case of
moral failure that comes under their
observation—every case, at any rate, that
is capable of being investigated—this
mystery would probably be found to be
no mystery at all. Strange that this has
never been done ! Strange that, except
from the medical side, the idea of such a
task has scarcely occurred to mankind !
Strange, above all, that men who are
ordained to wage war against evil should
be the most prominent of all in con
fessing it to be unaccountable !
Here the argument may pause for a
moment. One “ cure for sin ” has been
found to be but a partial cure. Religion,
though sometimes powerful, is not omni
potent. Would it not be well, before
asking what other cures for evil exist, to
ask after the origin of evil itself? Or
is it so inexplicable that its origin (or
origins) cannot be traced ? Is it some
1 In educational circles there is an impression
thing mysterious, unaccountable ; a that Herbart “deduced” his educational ideas
from his metaphysics. In point of fact, he
devouring Minotaur which refuses to started from the educational stand point. Largely,
1 Rev. R. H. Quick, in Life and Remains.
* In Memoriam, LI I.
it was his experience with a difficult boy, Ludwig
Steiger, that forced him onward. See the writer’s
Critics of Herbartianism, Appendix.
�26
THE SECRET OF HERBART
Yet these men are zealous against their
ghostly foe; they, like Curtius, will often
throw themselves into the gulf that,
nevertheless, remains mysteriously open,
despite the sacrifice of the nation’s
bravest. Perchance the most acceptable
sacrifice of all has never yet been made.
Perchance this chasm, unlike the one
which opened in ancient Rome, asks—
not for mere heroism, but—for scientific
thought. Throw that into the gulf, and
maybe it will begin to close. “ If, for
the fall of man, science comes to sub
stitute the rise of man, it means the
utter disintegration of all the spiritual
pessimisms which have been like a spasm
in the heart and a cramp in the intellect
of men.”1
deadly foe to the consumption germ
was the free air of heaven, physicians
secluded their patients in rooms from
which that free air was scrupulously
excluded. And we, too, physicians for
a moral phthisis, would fain kill the germ
by hot-house -remedies, all unconscious
that, by placing our patient amid a more
bracing atmosphere, the task could be
performed with immeasurably greater
prospect of success. What is the atmo
sphere which saves from moral phthisis ?
“ Lust and brutality are generated as
certainly as scrofula and typhus ”x—given
definite conditions. They follow from
these conditions with well-nigh the inevit
able certainty of the lightning flash.
The glory of Herbartianism is that it
In plain words, we have to treat sin knows the conditions—one, at least, of
as a scientific problem is treated. them ; and, knowing the conditions, can
Having once so treated it, having once also point to the cure.
traced it to some at least of its causes,
we may then, with all the devotion and
To treat moral failure as really un
heroism at our command, aim at its accountable, as a baffling immensity,
cure. But mere heroism and devotion mysterious in its origin and exhaustless
are things wasted. We want a gospel; in its resources, as a bolt from the blue,
this book is written to urge the need of as a diabolus ex machind, is to treat the
one; but it must be a scientific gospel. universe as finally and almost utterly
An ounce of scientific thought is worth unintelligible. Holding such a view,
a ton of ignorant zeal. And such zeal, man can but wring his hands in hopeless
on their own confession, is the chief anguish. Of little use the incantations
tribute that the Churches are paying; offered up, Sunday by Sunday, for deliver
for well-nigh every theological book ance from the formidable catalogue of
avows that sin is a mystery in the sins contained in the Litany. If evil
universe, something to be treated in exists as an entity, and not merely as an
much the same way as primitive man effect, the human heart may plead, but
treated disease; something, in fact, quite will plead in vain, for complete deliver
unaccountable, baffling, diabolical.
ance. Throned in the universe, regal
mid clouds and mysterious darkness,
Or—to change the thought—as evil will never fail of subjects and
medical men, till recently, treated servants. The best we can then hope
phthisis. Unconscious that the most for will be that the forces of good will be
1 O. W. Holmes, in The Autocrat of the Break
fast Table.
1 Sir Leslie Stephen, in An Agnostic’s Apology.
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ever found sternly marshalled against they discover acquires the mysteriousness
those of evil, fighting a hopeless but and unaccountability that has been trans
ferred from the thing itself. That cause
endless battle.
is nothing less than Free Will, a some
The moment, however, that evil thing which, though inexplicable, seems
appears as an effect, the battle is seen to flatter our conceit, and to remove from
not to be hopeless. When the causes us the trouble and obligation of penetra
have been discovered the cure may soon ting farther into the springs of conduct.1
be discovered too.
To deny man’s prerogative of “free
No pretence will here be made that
dom ” would be a bold and probably a
all those causes, racial and other, have
mistaken step—certainly a step likely to
been discovered. Until they are sought
be misunderstood and to do harm. The
for in a scientific spirit they cannot be.
supreme moments of life, when conscious
For centuries men regarded disease as
ness is at a maximum, and when great
something unintelligible by natural laws,
moral crises occur, are moments of
and the Church, trusting to shrines and
apparent “freedom’’and of mysterious
relics, discouraged the study of medicine,
import. Often it seems impossible to
or, more compromisingly, gave efficacy
predict the result of thoughtful delibera
to a physician’s drug by saying a prayer
tion at such solemn moments as these,
over it; for a still longer period men
deliberation whether of our own or of
regarded poverty as similarly unintelli
others. We can say of our Will what
gible, to be treated only by doles at the
Antonio said of his sadness :—
monastery gates; and probably for a yet
“ How I caught it, found it, or came by it,
longer period they will prefer to regard
What stuff ’tis made of, whereof it is born,
moral evil as unintelligible also. But
I am to learn.”
medicine is tracking disease to its origin;
sociology is tabulating the causes of We are in the position of the indi
poverty;1 and, sooner or later, thecauses vidual who has never seen iodine
of moral evil will be finally revealed to and phosphorus spontaneously ignite to
the patient investigator. Already some form a new and different substance.
of those causes are open to the light of Such momentsare moments of—apparent
freedom; and here “ apparent freedom ”
day.
Strange that men should refuse or
dislike to look at evil in this scientific
way 1 Strange the fascination exerted by
the unaccountable ! Yet the fascination
exists. Even when, momentarily occu
pying a pseudo-scientific standpoint,
men make one feeble attempt to assign
to sin its causes, almost the only cause1
2
1 Vide Mr. Rowntree’s Poverty, quoted from
below.
2 There is also the bad angel of “ original
sin,” and there is the good angel of “grace.”
But the theology of both of these is hopelessly
chaotic.
If “ original sin ” meant heredity,
and if “ grace ” included all kinds of educational
influences, there would be helpfulness in the
Church formulae. But such a reconciliation with
modern thought is difficult, and neither
doctrine is easily to be adjusted to the third
doctrine of Free Will. Heredity is not washed
away at baptism ; and the dyslogistic talk about
“secular subjects” forbids us to identify the
illuminative power of these subjects with the
power of “ grace,” or of the “ Holy Ghost,”
though Miss Mason half suggests such an identi
fication ( Home Education ).
1 See how one of our greatest writers plays
with the subject. Prof. G. A. Smith’s Isaiah,
vol. i.
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THE SECRET OF HERBART
performs all the functions of “ real
freedom,” inasmuch as it imparts a sense
of responsibility, acts as a motive, and
may turn the balance to this side or to
that.
One great British writer on education,
perhaps our greatest writer, lays ceaseless
stress upon this supreme prerogative.1
Education, according to him, must ever
keep in view the fact that man is not a
machine, not even an enormously com
plex psychical machine, but rather a
being in whom a free rational principle,
unaccountable by explanation from
below, has its seat.
True, the question may be asked even
here, whether, when a few more centuries
or decades of scientific research have
passed, this residuum of unaccountability
may not be accounted for. May not,
some day, even the remotest springs of
action be exposed to view ? This is pos
sible. When psychology and sociology
have advanced far beyond their present
standpoint, they may be able to assign
causes to “pride, vainglory, and hypoc
risy,” and the rest of the catalogue, with
as much precision as that with which
physical science is able to assign causes
to “lightning and tempest, plague, pesti
lence, and famine.”
Our mediaeval
Litany places all these on the same
level of unaccountability; our coming
sciences may some day place them
again on the same level—that of account
ability. In other words, every sin that
has ever been sinned by a sinner may,
without, let us hope, any weakening of
moral responsibility, be as securely traced
to its causes in heredity, variation, and
environment (including education) as the
1 Dr. Laurie.
lightning flash can be traced to definite
atmospheric conditions. Life may be
come tamer when thus deprived of its
mysteries and surprises, but it need not
be essentially unhappy; indeed, most of
the springs of present-day misery will
have been diverted or removed, though,
perchance, new springs may have welled
up.
But at present the admission must be
made that there is an unaccountable
element in human nature—an element
of Free Will; and that this, whether an
illusion generated by our ignorance of
psychical causes, or, as is more probably
the case, a reality due to the actual
presence in man of a superior spiritual
principle, is an element which should
not be neglected in any complete theo
retical account of human nature.
Yet—and this is the main point in the
present discussion—nine-tenths of human
conduct are practically independent of
this “ superior spiritual principle.” Man
may not be wholly a machine, but he is
largely, mainly, a machine. The man
of culture, reflecting calmly upon alter
native courses of action — any man,
indeed, at the moment of some great
moral crisis — may, in an intelligible
sense, be “ free ”; but even the man of
culture, and, still more emphatically, the
man devoid of culture, act, through the
greater part of their lives, in a way that
is largely if not wholly mechanical.
Now, most if not all of our great educa
tional writers—we have a few—know
education mainly in its higher grades,
and amid the atmosphere of the tradi
tional culture. Naturally, then, they lay
stress upon the “ higher ” aspects of
mental life. The voice of the primary
teacher, working amid the slums of our
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great cities or the intellectual deserts of
our agricultural counties, is silent, or too
Doric for the ears of our university
professors. But if that teacher were
questioned as to the applicability of the
“ superior spiritual principle ” to the
work of educating his pupils, he would
—however painful the confession may
sound — smile somewhat sardonically.
His pupils, he suspects, are virtually
machines. Their conduct, though occa
sionally inexplicable, owing to his igno
rance of their nature, does, on the whole,
follow as logically from their past as the
motion of the billiard ball follows upon
the nature of the blow it receives. The
“ freedom ” principle sounds well in
university class-rooms, and may, indeed,
represent a fundamental philosophical
truth; but as an educational maxim it is
singularly useless.
29
tence or his greatest blunders to means
of grace, he may advisably change his
profession at once for one in which he
can, with some certainty, count upon
effecting results. He may, from the
standpoint of a metaphysician, admit the
existence of a “superior spiritual prin
ciple”; he may, from the standpoint of
a psychologist, admit that human
conduct is sometimes unpredictable
(owing to the complexity of man
and the imperfect condition of psy
chology) ; but he can never, as an
educationist, admit that the highest law
of education is lawlessness. He must
believe in education, or he has no right to
expound it; he must believe that effects
follow causes, and that, however complex
human nature may be, however unknown
at present many of the springs of con
duct, he, as an operator upon his pupils,
can help to mould their lives. Sin he
must regard as an effect, not wholly as a
mystery; and Free Will he must regard
as a deity to be worshipped by the lips
rather than by the heart. “ The theo
logical doctrine of grace and the meta
physical doctrine of the freedom of the
will....... both presuppose an unknown
factor whose presence or absence cannot
be foreseen, and whose action cannot be
measured. It is here, it is there, it is
gone, and no one can tell why. It at
once upsets prevision of the future, and
cancels all record of, and inference from,
the past.”1
If the medical man, in treating his
patient for phthisis or diphtheria, had to
face the possibility that Powers, divine
or diabolical, were ever on the watch,
aiding or counteracting his own efforts,
he would be reduced to comparative and
ludicrous helplessness. There would be
small need or use for lengthy medical
study; the most conscientious attentions
to his patient might at any moment be
rendered vain by diabolical interference;
his grossest blunders neutralised by
divine assistance. A Science of Medicine
would cease to exist. It is for this
reason that medicine refuses to speak of
Herbart’s attack, or supposed attack,
“ Vital Force ”—a mere name for what
upon Free Will is a puzzle to many.
ever is at present physiologically unac
But the reasons for the attack will be
countable.
now not far to seek. He seems to have
So, also, if the educationist, in seeking had a deep-rooted dislike for the
to build up the moral life of his pupils, shadowy phraseology of the idealistic
concedes that “ Free Will ” may, at any
1 Cotter Morison, in The Service of Man.
moment, reduce his best efforts to impo-
�3°
THE SECRET OF HERBART
school—the appeals to the agencies of
some mysterious background inaccessible;
to influence, unintelligible to the scien
tific reason. “Self-activity,” “transcen
dental freedom,” and all similar terms
standing for a celestial or abysmal
principle which no one can claim
genuinely to understand—Herbart would
have none of these. A “ self-activity ”
rooted in “presentations”; an “inner
freedom” identical with “insight”—
such things he would admit, but a
mere diabolus or deus ex machina ever
ready to appear upon the stage without
notice or justification, dislocating every
homely arrangement, and throwing his
weight, without rhyme or reason, into
the scale of good or evil—this Herbart
refused to recognise as a factor worthy
of being considered in a Science of Edu
cation.
“Not the gentlest breath of
transcendental freedom must be allowed
to blow through ever so small a chink
into the teacher’s domain. If so, how is
he to begin to deal with the lawless
marvels of a being superior to natural
laws, on whose assistance he cannot
reckon, whose interruptions he can
neither foresee nor prevent ?”
ments, and the like, in which the humble
teacher plays no part—seem the only hope
for the moral health of the world. But
admit that, though there is something of
mystery, there is nothing of miracle in
the will, and the work of the teacher
suddenly appears in its immeasurable
power and promise.
To deny the
primacy of the will is to assert the
primacy of the teacher.
There is much that is unaccountable
in man; but surely education should
base itself—so Herbart seems to have felt
—upon those elements that are account
able rather than upon those that are the
opposite. To glory in the mysterious
may be the best of qualifications for the
future priest; it is the worst of qualifica
tions for one who seeks to build up a
Science of Education. Conduct must
have its causes : if those causes are un
knowable, the teacher’s work is reduced
to an absurdity; if they are partly
knowable, it is the teacher’s duty to keep
close to them so far as knowable; if they
are wholly knowable, a Science of Edu
cation is not far off, and the teacher’s
work lies plain before him. “ Ministers
talk about the human will as if it stood
Not that Herbart ever denied a real on a high look-out, with plenty of light,
“Inner Freedom.” He spoke of “the and elbow room reaching to the horizon.
noble feeling that virtue is free”; of “the Doctors are constantly noticing how it
judgment to which the desires bend is tied up and darkened.”1 And what
amazed.”
It was “ transcendental doctors notice teachers must notice too.
freedom ” which he attacked, on the
ground that “ nothing could be built on
There is, no doubt, a charm about the
it.” And, educationally, nothing ever mysterious. But to build a system of
has been built upon it, except that tens (education, or a code of morals, upon a
of thousands of teachers have been kept jfoundation of mysteriousness is surely a
in professional servitude because, through strange and dubious procedure — an
<
this doctrine, their “secular” work has jimpossible procedure, one would think,
never been seen in its true significance. <did not facts show that it has been
Admit a miraculous “ Will,” and a score
of other miracles—conversions, sacra
1 Oliver Wendell Holmes, in Elsie Venner.
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'attempted, and is defended in every
theological work that deals with sin. If
education is ever to grapple seriously with
the problem of evil, we must assume that
evil can be grappled with, that it is an
effect, and that its causes are knowable.
In other words, we must be, in so far as we
are educationists, determinists. Herbart
knew from the first that he “would never
be understood by those to whom the
co-existence of determinism and morality
was still a riddle”; and his prediction
has turned out true.
It is a riddle, and yet not a wholly
baffling one. Any day of our lives we
can see taking place the manufacture of
moral good and evil; the thread is spun,
and goes to the loom. True, in the
recesses of one’s own consciousness may
sometimes move a seemingly disturbing
force; unaccountable phantoms may
cross our path; we may feel
Obstinate questionings
Of sense and outward things,
Fallings from us, vanishings ;
Blank misgivings of a creature
Moving about in worlds not realised,
High instincts, before which our mortal nature
Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised.
3i
the bread of life and the water of life are
freely brought. And the history of edu
cation shows that the Herbartians
actually try to bring the mental and
moral bread of life and water of life;
that they are zealous in so doing, and
that they realise, as no other educa
tionists seem to realise, how pressing is
the need. If, then, determinism makes
educationists zealous—as the Puritans
were made zealous under the influence
of their denial that “ the act of conver
sion depends upon the concurrence of
men’s Free Will”—it cannot be the wholly
bad and paralysing thing that its oppo
nents assert. The Herbartian himself,
faced by the awful precision of his own
principles, may feel in danger of becom
ing a spiritual automaton; but his pupils,
at the least, will have no reason to regret
the hour when those principles became
his rule of life. There is thus an in
finite mercifulness about Herbartianism.
Unless he assume that Divine grace can
miraculously change the vilest character,
the Herbartian sees no fate but perdition
before a soul that is mentally starved ;
and seeing no other fate—realising, as
no other educationists realise, that
“stupid men cannot be virtuous”—he
comes himself to the rescue, determining
that, should starvation take place, the
fault shall not be his.
We may experience all this; we may
even regard the experience as “ the foun
tain light of all our day ”; but we cannot
build a system of education upon
“ worlds not realised.” If we are HerOne recent writer, appearing as cham
bartians, at any rate, we shall prefer to pion of the “angel and devil” theory,
deal with the world of ideas which can condemns Herbartianism for looking
be realised.
upon a child who has committed this or
that fault as being “ a piece of apparatus,
In so preferring, the Herbartian looks an imperfect organisation of appercep
upon the pupil before him not as a tive systems, which we must endeavour
duplicate being, half angel, half devil, to patch up ”; evil, in fact, being “a form
largely or wholly outside the range of of disease or imperfection.”1 Yes, that is
any influence that he can exert, but as a
1 Prof. Darroch, in Herbart: A Criticism.
starving soul doomed to perish unless
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THE SECRET OF HERBART
how we regard it; and, dark though our
view may sometimes appear, it has the
glow of heaven itself upon it when com
pared with the view promulgated by the
champion of “ Self-activity,” “ Self-deter
mination,” and “ Reason ”; the view that
the “ child and the criminal can delibe
rately, and with full intent, set up their
private wills against the common or
moral will of the community.” “The
child—with full intent!” And these are
the corollaries from an idealistic philo
sophy ! Surely the grossest materialism
is tenderness itself compared either with
an “idealism’’which believes that in the
breast of children—of whom, in the view
of one religion, the kingdom of heaven
consists—there can be not only an
“intent,” but a “full intent,” to take the
downward road; or with a system of
evangelical religion that can describe a
child of seven as under “ conviction of
sin”;1 or with a system of Catholic reli
gion which packs him to the confessional
at the same age. No; dim though our
sight may be, hard though the task of
discovering in every case the sought-for
causes, we nevertheless prefer to regard
sin as ultimately due to imperfection
rather than devilry ; we nurse our philo
sophical tenderness, and leave to others
the nursing of philosophical severity;
we believe that we are nearer to the
truth than they, and that our principles
will be recognised when theirs have been
long forgotten. If we were given the
choice, we should prefer even a rigid,
mechanical, and one-sided presentationalism that made an attempt at explaining
evil, to an idealism that, giving up all
explanation in despair, calls up from the
shades some spectre of “ Self-activity ”
which, when scrutinised, is found to
1 Dr. Torrey.
possess the lineaments of Sathanas him
self. Firmly, albeit with modesty, we
would fain believe and assert that “ tout
comprendre Pest tout pardonner.”
We refuse to discuss unmeaning
remedies for evil; every hour devoted
to such discussion is an hour taken from
more solid work. In the tremendous
words of Herbart: “ While morality is
rocked to sleep in the belief in transcen
dental powers, the true powers and
means which rule the world are at the
disposal of the unbeliever.” We will not
burrow for some deep principle that,
because of its very depth, has no applic
ability to the life of man on the surface
of this earth ; we do not burrow for coal
below or amid the sterilities of the Old
Red Sandstone. To talk of the Divine
“ self-realisation” of a child in our slums
or hamlets is but to reveal our inexpe
rience of life.
What “self” is here
beyond a few animal impulses and a
vast echoing emptiness of mind ?
“Man,” says Tennyson through the
lips of the aged speaker in the second
Locksley Hall, “can half control his
doom.” But Tennyson, too, like those
philosophers and educationists who lay
stress on “Free Will ” and “ Self-activity,”
was not a teacher in city slums or country
desolations. He who labours beneath the
cloud of mental poverty incumbent over
the primary school and its inmates will
look about him for a system based, not
on a morally aristocratic principle like
this, but for a system which takes
account of that cloud of mental poverty.
And thus he alights upon Herbartianism, which, instead of panegyrising a
“ Freedom ” practically non-existent
except at mature stages of development,
�THE SECRET OF HERBART
and therefore singularly useless as a
principle for the training of children,
frankly recognises “ mental poverty ” as
a fact, and one of immense import; “the
stupid man cannot be virtuous.” And
the more he contemplates Herbartianism
the more he recognises, not in its details,
but in its supreme categories and its spirit,
something immensely portentous, some
thing that may revolutionise education
by making it a living thing—something,
indeed, that has already begun to effect
this in more countries than one. He
begins to see in it a force which, allied
with religion and with economic and
hygienic progress, can accomplish all for
the human race which the dreaming
optimist pictures for himself in prophetic
vision—a force which, even if divorced
from religion and from such progress,
can accomplish much.
To the schoolmaster Herbartianism
comes as something sacramental, con
ferring upon him a dignity and an
importance second to none possessed by
other professionals. Does the medical
man save life and cure disease ? The
schoolmaster is called upon to make the
life worth living, and to cure, or to
inoculate against, the moral diseases of
the soul. Do others urge — though
without the most modest of proofs—the
possession of baptismal powers, vital to
the spiritual welfare of the child ? The
schoolmaster can prove, on scientific
grounds, the possession of saving powers
by himself, and he believes that he can
create, within the soul of his pupil, such
a ramifying and interlacing network of
ideas that the surging of sensual passion
may well nigh cease to be possible amid
the close-knit fabric. Say, if you will,
that the claims of Herbartianism are
exaggerated; the claims of other priest
33
hoods, possessing not one-tenth of the
scientific justification possessed by this,
may be exaggerated too. Education, be
it said again and again and again, has
never yet had a chance. The best men
have never thrown themselves into it;
public sympathy has never yet been fully
on its side; it has never yet discovered
a standpoint or a standing for itself.
This standpoint and this standing Her
bartianism can supply.
Exaggeration! No.
The present
writer believes that if education, in the
Herbartian sense, had ever had one-tenth
of the chance that religion has had for
centuries, had ever attracted to its cause
men such as religion has attracted, had
ever possessed the prestige and authority
that religion has possessed, moral
wonders would long ago have been
effected. With all her prestige and all
her authority, Protestant religion has to
confess to half-empty churches, to a
widespread and grotesque ignorance of
the Bible even among believers, and to
a moral tone in the community distinctly,
and perhaps increasingly, materialistic ;
while Catholic religion has every year to
admit that the highest relative propor
tion of prisoners in English gaols are
Catholics by education and name. But
give religion the chance that education
has had; staff your churches with children
in their teens, snatched from the plough
or the washtub; destroy the prestige,
the subtle suggestion of the heroic, which
etherealises the most unimpressive cleric
into the idol of cultured ladies; bid
your congregations assemble in barns
instead of in buildings hallowed by
centuries of suggestion; treat your minis
ters as you treat your village school
master, and then, unless the writer is
wholly mistaken, religion, too, would
D
�34
THE SECRET OF HERBART
have to confess to a failure far greater
than that charged against education.
Already it is doubtful whether her failure
has not been equally great.
could be said, he has sorrowfully to avow
that, taken as a class, the primary teacher
is not fully interested in his own work,
and often fails to see its significance.
Education has failed; we have to
admit it. Not without reason is the
disrepute of the schoolmaster. Sinned
against by society he may have been ; but
he has sinned in return. He has often
refused to learn. His bigotry has some
times been more stupid and more im
penetrable than that of any priest. Too
often “ he is content to practise an art the
principles of which he does not under
stand, and he haughtily resents any attempt
to enlighten him.” Too often he is “an
arrogant and intolerant empiric.”1
“ The present race of teachers have
shown their devotion to their work by
rising to the highest ideal of the extreme
faddist.” No man who knows primary
education in the less fortunate districts
will admit for a moment that words like
these, quoted from the address of an
able primary schoolmaster known to the
writer, are much more than the platform
verbiage of an exceptional man. “Ideals ”
do not exist in the average primary
school; works on educational “ ideals ”
do not exist on the bookshelves of the
average schoolmaster; debates on educa
tional “ideals” do not take place at
professional conferences. Forty years
ago “ideals” were officially suppressed;
and though some schoolmasters—like
the one from whom the above words
are quoted—have retained their enthu
siasms, many have become “arrogant
and intolerant empirics,” who “haughtily
resent any attempt to enlighten them.”
Over many a country town an observer
would imagine an avalanche of desola
tion to have passed—so dead is the
prospect; a schoolmaster—more power
ful in his ultimate influence than clergy
man or landed proprietor—has been there
for forty years; the very attitude of the
boys in the street, the public life, manners,
and interests of the adults, tell their
tale. Yet five or twenty miles away all
perhaps is different; there we find keen
ness, manners, and culture, for there the
schoolmaster has culture, zeal, and a
sense of responsibility. Inspectors and
other officials who visit a multitude of
schools testify to facts like these, the
truth being that the difference between
There is another side to the question.
The writer could tell of primary school
teachers, working patiently without reward
or recognition, guardian angels amid the
haunts of devilry, springs of refinement
in arid deserts of degradation. He
could tell of places in which the school
master is “ the only man of culture,”
“a reader of James’s Gifford Lectures,
Herbert Spencer, Darwin, Romanes,
Lloyd Morgan, James Ward, and Mar
tineau”;1 he could tell of Edinburgh
2
slums to which, after a life spent in their
midst, a lady-teacher bequeaths her
savings for the purpose of founding a
kindergarten ; he could turn to his own
experience and narrate how, for the first
time, he learnt in untechnical language
the Herbartian distinction between
culture-studies and other studies, from
the lips of the distinguished school
master who was recently the President
of the National Union of Teachers.
But though, happily, much of this kind
1 Professor Adams, in Herbartian Psychology.
2 Journal of Education, September, 1903.
�THE SECRET OF HERBART
the good and the bad schoolmaster is far
greater, both in itself and in the immen
sity of its consequences, than between
the good and bad in any other profession.
A schoolmaster can revolutionise a town
in twenty years ; Girard did this at
Friburg.
If, then, we study the signs of the
times and the doctrines of Herbart, we
shall find that it will be the schoolmaster,
at present so despised and often so
apathetic, to whom will fall the solution
of many of the moral problems now
pressing upon us. But he slumbers—a
sceptre lying disregarded by his side,
and the brightest crown that the coming
century can award waiting, not to be
competed for (there are no possible
competitors), but to be taken up. His
profession demonstrably contains within
itself the promise and the potency of
almost infinite advance. Some day it
will need no patronage and accept no
alien domination. Some day our resi
dential training colleges will be no longer
governed by retired missionaries, nor
our educational bureaus occupied by
accountants. Nay, this great profession
need not forget that in the eighteenth
century the clergy were as despised as
the teacher is now, “their social posi
tion being somewhat lower than that
of the nursery governess in the estab
lishment of a vulgar millionaire,”1
and it may therefore look forward to
rejuvenescence with conviction as well
as with hope.
35
to attract to itself both the scientific
experimenter and the reforming enthu
siast. The enfranchised eye sees an
imperial and unique spaciousness about
this profession.
Medicine demands
science; the Church demands devotion;
education will demand both.
The
science she will demand will deal with
the most baffling, fascinating, and vital
questions of the day — questions of
biology and psychology. The kind of
devotion she will demand will be seen
when the Herbartian standpoint has been
expounded in the following pages.
Go through the whole series of profes
sional callings, and seek for one which
demands these things in equal measure.
There is absolutely none. This alone
combines, or will some day combine, the
heroic with the scientific standpoint. “ Is
there any art like it—any which can so
attract the finer spirits among men, any
which can so engage in its service that
enthusiasm which fills the moral atmo
sphere to-day? Is there any, the wise
practice of which brings such personal
reward....... ? Surely an art so great, so
full of great issues for the individual and
for society, is worth thinking about in
its principles, its rules, its history, its
aims—in brief, its philosophy.”1
And yet both standpoints, the former
especially, have been almost entirely
ignored. Statements like that of Prof.
Findlay, that “ there is an immense field
of exploration awaiting teachers who have
psychological equipment,”2 or like that
Why these claims, prima facie so pre
of the late Mr. Rooper, that “ all teachers
posterous ? Because, alone among pro
are missionaries by profession,’^ simply
fessions, education calls simultaneously
awaken incredulity, even among teachers
for scientific thought and for moral
devotion, and may therefore be expected
1 Dr. Laurie, in The Training of Teachers.
1 Froude,’5//<3rZ Studies, vol. ii.
z Principles of Class Teaching.
3 School and Home Life.
�36
THE SECRET OF HERBART
themselves. But both statements are
true and unexaggerated. It is mainly
the second which the author proposes to
expound in the following paragraphs, and
he will do so even at the risk—so unusual
and dangerous a risk in the case of a
writer on education—of being dubbed an
“ enthusiast.”
infallible protection against moral evil,
not an infallible weapon for the slaughter
of what theologians call “sin.” It has
been affirmed that there is a second
weapon. Two quotations—one from the
work of our greatest eighteenth-century
novelist, the other from a recent impor
tant work on modern poverty—may serve
to introduce more formally this second
Everyone admits that the schoolmaster and momentous agency.
does necessary work in conferring know
ledge, and in trying to equip each coming
Though Captain Booth’s father “de
generation for the battle of life. But signed his son for the Army, he did not
hardly anyone realises that the moral think it necessary to breed him up a
reforms of the future will have to begin blockhead........ He considered that the
—largely, at any rate—in the school life of a soldier is in general a life of
room ; that the stolid irresponsiveness to idleness; and thought that the spare
appeal which preachers bewail is in great hours of an officer in country quarters
measure due to the failure of the school ; would be as well employed with a book as
that the generally low level at which men in sauntering about the streets, loitering
live, and the humdrum, unworthy, some in a coffee-house, sitting in a tavern, or
times vicious, tone of society, are, to an in laying schemes to debauch and ruin a
immense extent, the results of our set of harmless, ignorant country girls.”1
neglecting—the Secret of Herbart!
“ Shut out, to a great extent, from the
larger life and the higher interests which
And let it here be said that what is a more liberal and a more prolonged
expounded in the following paragraphs is education opens up to the wealthier
not a merely bookish and theoretical classes, it is not surprising that, to relieve
Herbartianism, but one borne in upon the monotony of their existence, so many
the writer’s mind amid practical work in artisans frequent the public-house, or
a neglected educational district. At the indulge in the excitement of betting.”2
centre of that district is a town of some
few thousand inhabitants, with eight or
To Fielding, at any rate, there was a
nine places of worship; a town where connection between being a “blockhead”
every prospect pleases, and every physical and becoming a debauchee ; while, con
inducement to a high and worthy stan versely, a taste for books was a protec
dard of living exists, but a town which, tion against the temptations of debau
owing to the neglect by its citizens of the chery. Vice, sin, moral evil, was an
standpoint we may call—though in no effect, not a mystery.
And to Mr.
exclusive sense —the “ Her bar tian,” Rowntree, also, “ intellectual tastes” and
would fill the reformer with serious the “ power of applied reading and
apprehension. It is now time to expound study ” appeared, he tells us in the
this vaunted “ standpoint.”
We have seen that religion is not an
1 Fielding, in Amelia.
2 Mr. Rowntree, in Poverty.
�THE SECRET OF HERBART
context of the above passage, as impor
tant auxiliaries of virtue; the absence
of these involved, as consequences,
drunkenness and betting. Again, evil
was an effect, not a mystery.
Thackeray has gone even further than
this, and has assigned it as an inevitable—
not merely a possible—effect of certain
causes. In one brief sentence he has
indicated that it results not only from the
cause which the Herbartians emphasise
—the absence of wholesome interests—
but from another cause which they
recognise, but concerning which they do
not profess to teach us anything. This
second cause is bad habit.1 His words
are among the boldest and even the
most scientific in our language. “ Starve
me, keep me from books and honest
people, educate me to love dice, gin, and
pleasure, and put me on Hounslow
Heath with a purse before me, and—I
will take it.”1
2
Somehow, Fielding, Thackeray, and
Mr. Rowntree, all seem to forget Free
Will. They trace evil to its causes, and
imply, Thackeray especially, that, given
these causes, sin inevitably follows.
Free Will, in fact, is at a discount in
modern sociological works, the reason
being, as already indicated, that a prin
ciple of mere lawlessness, even if a true
principle, is one incapable of being made
use of. In Herbart’s educational works,
as we have also seen, Free Will—so far
as mysterious—is likewise at a discount,
and for the same reason; it is a principle
37
of no use for the educationist; “nothing
can be built on it.”
He says, quite
frankly, that “ the stupid man cannot be
virtuous,”1 just as Fielding tells us that a
“ blockhead ” is likely, if not certain, to
become a debauchee.
And elsewhere
Herbart uses words which are equally
momentous, though less contentious in
form. “ If intellectual interests are
wanting, if the store of thought be
meagre, the ground lies empty for the
animal desires.”
We are getting on the scent of the
“ Secret of Herbart.” Somehow, educa
tion (of the proper kind) is beginning
to appear “ portentous.”
Interest,
or (to use Herbartian terminology)
many-sided interest, is seen to be a
weapon capable of wounding, perhaps of
slaying, this Briareus-handed or Hydra
headed monster of moral evil. The
Herbartian Ziller calls many-sided
interest a means of protection against
passions, as well as a help in daily life
and amid the storms of fate. Another
Herbartian speaks of it as a “moral
support and protection against the servi
tude that springs from the rule of desire
and passion.”2 A third describes as a
true benefactor of the race him “ who
awakens in each man an enduring inte
rest in anything whatever........ Such an
interest is a universal medicine.”s Still
another Herbartian, this time hailing
from America, declares interest to be “ a
protection against desires, disorderly
impulses, and passions........ A many-sided
interest, cultivated along the chief paths
of knowledge, implies such mental vigour
1 If little or nothing is said, in this essay, on
the subject of habit, or if the relation of habit to
1 It is useless for readers or writer to worry
apperceptive interest is ignored, the reason is over the mere form of this expression. Its sub
not that the writer under-estimates such matters. stance is explained in the pages that follow.
He is only too conscious of the omissions that
2 Kern : quoted in De Garmo’s Herbart and
may be charged against the present work.
the Herbartians.
2 Esmond.
I
3 Scheibert, 1906.
�38
THE SECRET OF HERBART
and such pre-occupation with worthy
subjects as naturally to discourage un
worthy desires.”1 Language like this,
almost or quite evangelical in fervour,
will be said to be open to the charge of
exaggeration. But are we sure of this ?
Has the moral value of many-sided
interest ever been adequately realised,
and many-sided interest itself ever been
given the chance it deserves? Admitting,
however, for the sake of peace, that the
language is exaggerated, the truth it
embodies is, nevertheless, a great one.
Interest helps, at any rate, to suppress
moral evil.
Now, which profession,
amid the hierarchy of the professions, is
called upon to awaken many - sided
interest ? The educational only. Thus
the schoolmaster stands in the same rank
with archbishops, bishops, and all
ministers of religion. While they are
baptising with water he is baptising with
many-sided interest.1
2
This is crude Herbartianism, but, as we
have already seen, it is not precisely a
new discovery. Most people will admit
— will sometimes even urge — that
“ counter-attractions,” “ hobbies,” and
the like, are useful moral agencies. The
Churches seek, more or less energetically,
to supply these counter-attractions; clubs,
recreative and educational, are opened,
and hopes are expressed that even
hooligans may in this way be reclaimed.
If Herbartianism had nothing more to
tell us than this, that we must try to
suppress evil by awakening positive
interests, it would be of immense value,
1 McMurry, Elements of General Method.
2 This is neither a joke nor a sneer ; there is a
real parallelism. Herbart regards interest as
only a portal to character—but a neglected
portal. It is for character-forming what Baptism
is claimed to be for Faith—an early but not the
only sacrament. See p. 46.
not only to the schoolmaster, but to the
moralist and the philanthropist also.
Already, as we look steadily at it, evil is
beginning to appear less mysterious;
already a desolating stream is being
traced to its poisonous source.
There is many an indication that the
moral efforts of the future will take, at
any rate in large measure, the direction
indicated in these paragraphs. Men are
beginning to see that in the cultivation
of wholesome interests, rather than solely
in the denunciation of vice and the
provision of neurotic remedies, lies the
key to the moral situation. The growing
importanceof the “Institutional Church”
is significant. Nay, the centre of gravity
is moving from the church to the school.
“ A man drinks, not only because his
brute nature is strong and craves the
stimulus, but because he has no other
interests, and must do something.”1
“ The spread of education and the
extension of a cheap literature adapted
to the wants and requirements of the
people, aided by the establishment of
lectures, reading-rooms, and schemes of
rational recreation, have done much to
withdraw the operatives from the public
house.”2
“ Ignorant and untrained minds, weary
and unhealthy bodies, gloomy and de
moralising environment, monotony and
weariness of life: out of these evils
spring the seeds of vice........
“ What culture have these poor women
ever known ? What teaching have they
had ? What graces of life have come to
them ? What dowry of love, of joy, of
sweet and fair imagination? Think
1 The Times, October, 1873.
2 Royal Commission (Scotland), i860.
�THE SECRET OF HERBART
what their lives are, think what their
homes are, think of the darkness and
confusion of their minds, and then say,
is it a marvel if they take to gin ? ” 1
“At bottom the temperance question
is largely an ‘ entertainment of the
people ’ question........ Pictures, books,
good music, clear laughter, heart-fellowship : are not these true aids to life ? Is
it not worth while to bring them within
reach of the docker, the coalheaver, the
artisan, and the common labourer?.......
Never will the evil spirits be permanently
cast out until the empty house is tenanted
by such as these.”2
“ I am disappointed at the moral taste
of the public after thirty years of com
pulsory education. It is a vital social
need that has to be met, and a publican
meets that need, caters for it, and, in a
sense, satisfies it in attractive and alluring,
but defective, ways. If we leave the
publican alone to satisfy that need,
temperance workers may talk till the
crack of doom, for he has the people in
the hollow of his hands........ Let us
utilise the schools in the city as evening
institutions.”3
“ People must acquire interests unless
they are to live by appetite alone.
Rational interests and hobbies are the
best antidotes to ‘ hooliganism ’ in every
rank of society.”4
“No one would sit and drink in a
public-house if he knew how delightful
it was to sit and think in a field ; no one
would seek excitement in gambling and
1 Robert Blatchford, in the Morning Leader,
September 2nd, 1898.
2 Rev. Will Reason, in University and Social
Settlements.
3 Dr. Paton, September 30th, 1903 ; Midland
Temperance Conference, Birmingham.
4 Mr. Ritchie at Aberdeen, October 29th,
1903.
39
betting if he knew how much more inte
resting science was.”1
“ If people realised the intense enjoy
ment of reading, there would be very
little pauperism, extravagance, drunken
ness, and crime........ Ignorance costs
more than education.”2
Criminality and drunkenness are not
quite such mysteries as Mr. Wells would
suggest.3 True, there may be something
too optimistic in the words last quoted ;
the man of culture who uttered them may
not have realised the immense difficulties
which face the carrying out of the con
structive policy he foreshadows amid the
degenerates of our great towns. Still,
there is enough truth in his words, and
in the others that have been quoted, to
justify the claim that a system of educa
tion, capable of implanting elevated
tastes, is a weapon with which to fight
moral evil successfully, and a means of
hastening the day when, in the words of
the hymn, mankind will be
Saved to sin no more.
Literally and demonstrably—unless all
the above quotations are wrong—a system
of education which creates a love of good
books, a love of nature, and so forth, is
a system which helps to “take away the
sin of the world.”
Philanthropic and missionary work in
this country may be arranged in three
grades.
1 Lord Avebury, July 25th, 1902 ; Nature
Study Exhibition.
2 Lord Avebury, February 27th, 1902 ; Home
Reading Union. In Mr. Rowntree’s Betting
and Gambling the same standpoint is adopted.
The word “ interest ” comes up continually and
almost automatically in the consideration of re
medial measures for this vice. “We have con
fined our people in the dark, and they are
gambling to break the tedium.”
3 Mankind in the Making.
�40
THE SECRET OF HERBART
The lowest grade is mere rescue work.
This work is noble, and will probably
be necessary for generations to come.
Whoever seeks to save the slum child,
reform the drunkard, and lift the fallen,
is engaged in work of this kind. But it
is crude, and contributes nothing to the
pulling up of evil by its roots.
The next grade—a higher one—may
be represented by such preventive work
as that carried on by the United Kingdom
Alliance, which aims at the removal of
temptations to debauchery. Work like
this goes closer to the roots of evil than
the last. But still it is purely negative.
The highest grade of all is that which
seeks to implant wholesome interests.
The only profession in existence which
is called as a profession to positive work
of this kind is the educational.
schoolmaster should place before himself,
is coming to be recognised—even by
many who have probably never heard of
Herbart—as a working aim for social
and moral reformers. The programme
sketched out by Royal Commissions and
private philanthropists was sketched out
—though in a more technical form—
by a German educationist exactly a
century ago. The only difference is that,
whereas Royal Commissions and private
philanthropists see the evil and see
the need for interest (or many-sided
interest) as a remedy, Herbart investi
gated also the conditions under which
this interest could spring up. Whereas
our unphilosophical moderns urge, as
Herbart himself urged, that interest is a
moral guide and a moral protection,
Herbart, the philosopher, saw that interest
depended upon apperception,1- and that,
If, therefore, the preceding and suc apart from efficiency in the apperceptive
ceeding arguments are sound, the smallest mechanism, interest could not be aroused.
educational reform may, perchance, be
of more permanent influence than the
Even, however, if we paused at the
sermons of every bishop and every present point, much, let us repeat, would
popular preacher; just as no political or have been gained. We have seen that
religious controversy has done one tenth evil springs, in some measure at least,
of the good or the harm that was done from absence of wholesome interests ;
by the fatal proposal of 1861. Indeed, seeing this, we are on the true road
the strangest feature about the educa along which moral effort may legitimately
tional apathy of the modern Englishman and successfully travel. We have learnt
is that he himself has been, in large reasons for connecting mental deficiency
measure, made what. he is by good or with moral deficiency, and have thus
bad teachers; they have influenced him realised, as all the Herbartians realise,
more than the clergyman, the doctor, or how great a unity the mind is, and how
the lawyer; and yet, though his mind false to most facts is. the “ faculty
and character were committed to their doctrine.” “The stupid man,” we have
keeping, he cares little about the work learnt from Herbart, “ cannot be virtu
which our teachers perform upon the ous ” ; starve mentally a Thackeray, and
new generation now growing up.
—as he tells us himself—he will steal the
first purse on Hounslow Heath ; suffer
It is clear, however, that the doctrine
This is
of much
of many - sided interest, regarded by be 1practical trueFrobelian interest, but there may
or
interests, of which the
Herbart as the immediate aim which the germs are implanted before birth.
�THE SECRET OF HERBART
the existence of an “ ignorant and un
trained, dark and confused mind,” “ a
monotonous and weary life,” and the
result will be, in the opinion of Robert
Blatchford, a “ taking to gin.”
4i
need the Gospel truly, but the preacher
who goes into the slums merely to preach
wastes his breath. He might just as
well preach to the east wind swirling
along Commercial Road.”1 But where
is the explanation of this irresponsive
All this is true, but it tells us nothing ness to appeal ? In what infernal armoury
except implicitly about “ apperception,” is forged this impenetrable carapace ?
with its “reconditeand portentous secret.”
Is “ apperception ” the same as “ manyIn the experiences about to be narrated
sided interest,” and is Herbartianism there was nothing unusual, nothing
merely a gospel of “hobbies” and more dramatic than is constantly occur
“counter-attractions,” with Dr. Johnson’s ring in the records of humble educational
words as a motto, “ I am a great friend effort. Nothing, at least, more unusual
to publick amusements, for they keep than this, that the narrator saw his
people from vice ”? By no means.
experiences in the light of the Her
bartian doctrines of apperception and
Accept the Herbartian doctrine of many-sided interest.
“ many-sided interest,”or, to simplify your
task, drop the phrase “ many-sided,” and
The situation was a simple one. A
seek, amid the slums of your cities and country borough with a few thousand
in the emptying hamlets of your country inhabitants possessed, among those few
districts, to arouse interest in anything. thousand, quite an unusual number of
You will, in large measure, fail j and, if the youths and young men upon whom
you consult clergyman or philanthropist, admittedly rest, in great measure, the
you will hear that they, too, have noted future destinies of this Empire. Their
a strange and baffling irresponsiveness characters were in the making. They
among the people they seek to elevate. stood at the moral cross-roads. Trans
There seems no point of contact between planted into a great city, they would
the saviours and those they would seek well-nigh instantly fall into evil courses
to save. Device after device is employed, unless possessed of some powerful
and fails. What was true in David internal principle of moral preservation,
Stow’s time is largely true now. “ The Religion had had its chance ; there was
mass are as impenetrable as the nether a place of worship for every three
millstone. No motive awakens their hundred inhabitants. The theatre or
consideration.”1
music-hall did not exist in the town,
and the moral problem was correspond
Even religious journals, faced by this ingly simplified. There was but little
problem, are beginning to use bold poverty of a degrading kind. The chief
language. “ The people of the slums characteristic of the human life of the
town was emptiness. It was an ideal
1 The Training System. There is pathos in
reading a book like Stow’s. He had his spot for awakening among its younger
dreams of “ providing an antidote for the inhabitants something of the manyexposed condition of youth and the demoralis
ing influence of large towns”; and we in these
days have our dreams too.
1 Christian World, June nth, 1903.
�42
THE SECRET OF HERBART
sided interest that is such a protection
against the immensely severer tempta
tions of larger places—the tempta
tions which many of those younger
inhabitants would have, sooner or later,
to face.
literature, for the reading of Dickens,
and, as an experiment, for the study of
that gréât crisis when Assyria was
gradually strengthening her hold upon
Judea, and when a prophet-politician
arose to guide the tiny State.
Judged by the low standard that
prevails in this country—in the southern
counties especially—the writer was suc
cessful. With a single exception, every
thing that was started weathered the
session—a record somewhat unusual
amid the disappointing records of
evening schools in Britain, The one
exception fails almost everywhere; the
British nation, with all its seriousness
and “ patriotism,” does not, for reasons
that will soon be obvious, wish to learn
about the “ Life and Duties of a
Citizen.” Judged by numbers, judged
by duration, judged by any ordinary
test, the writer’s work was at least
tolerable in its success; judged by his
own standard, it was a failure.
The curriculum, one may admit, was
one-sided; deficient in the important
practical subjects that call for skill or
dexterity and attract many individuals ;
deficient, in fact, on the Frobelian side.
Such subjects, it may here be remarked,
are not those upon which the appercep
tion doctrine bears;1 in other words,
they are not subjects upon which the
Herbartians have much to tell us.
What was his standard, what was his
wish? He purposed to arouse in the
breasts of the several hundred young
men whose lives were tame, colourless,
and unworthy (not necessarily vicious),
an interest in one or more of those
subjects which have the power of giving
richness, colour, and worthiness to life.
He knew that, when emptiness of mind
joins forces with facility for vice, vice
follows as an almost inevitable result
Religion, he saw, did not influence more
than a fraction of the individuals before
him. He believed that a few healthy
interests would, to say the least, be a
valuable preservative. A curriculum
accordingly was drawn up. The ordi
nary classes were opened, and, in
addition to them, classes for English
Deficient though the curriculum was,
it was at least a far richer curriculum
than is usual in small country towns.
At any rate, the experiment was made.
But before its results are narrated some
thing should be said concerning the
conditions under which interest—so
saving a power—is aroused. This,
indeed, is the crux and the climax
of the whole problem. Everyone will
admit—willingly or reluctantly—that
interest is a moral stimulus, a moral
guide, or at the very least a moral pro
tection ; the practical problem is, “ How
can it be aroused?”
Interest, say the Herbartians, is based
on apperception, and apperception is
the process of interpreting some new
fact or experience by means of our
previous knowledge. We are rarely
/
1 This is open to criticism. In a wide and
untechnical sense we could say that Frdbel dis
covered “apperception centres” in the young,
and directed teachers to make use of them.
But this is to give an extension—perhaps a
useful extension—of meaning to the term “ap
perception. ”
�THE SECRET OF HERBART
interested in that which is absolutely
strange, alien, foreign, unintelligible,
devoid of personal significance. The
boor blinks wearily at a fine Gothic
arch ; the Chinaman is unmoved at the
mention of Alfred. The engineer is in
terested in a new machine—for he knows
something about machines already; he
is not interested in a machine with which
he is already over-familiar, nor is the
poet, as a rule, interested in machines
of any kind. Two things are fatal to
interest: over-familiarity and total igno
rance.
It would be no difficult task—experi
mental psychologists have done it time
upon time—to prove how, on the mention
of this or that name, there follows a rush
of blood to the brain or a heightened
rate of breathing; while on the mention
of a third name there is none of this.
The medical man would thrill at the
name of Vesalius; the Catholic at the
name of St. Antony ; the bookmaker at
the mention of Ascot. And while the
instruments were measuring the physio
logical changes, great or slight as the
case might be, an Herbartian onlooker
would tell of another side to each
process—the psychical side—and would
speak, not of a rush of blood to the
brain, but of a rush of ideas to the
mind. And he might, if so inclined,
sound the name “ Herbart ” itself in
someone’s ears; and the instruments
would record infallibly whether that
name was a meaningless one or whether
it summoned up a wealth of interpreta
tive associations.
43
upon the ethics of apperception. This
little work has the ethics of apperception
for its subject, and the writer’s own
simple experience, viewed in the light of
the doctrine, for its immediate occasion.
Picture the announcement of a set of
“ Dickens Readings.” Who would be
likely to attend them—the individual
already acquainted with the works of
the novelist, or the individual to whom
even the name of Dickens was unknown ?
It was the second individual that the
present writer wished especially to attract;
he whose life was palpably and dis
tressingly empty; who had no sources
of pleasure beyond the crudest; who,
as a consequence, would probably fall at
once before the assault of severe tempta
tion. But, as a matter of fact, this was
exactly the individual who stayed away.
He who came, and received pleasure
from hearing and discussing the works
of Dickens, was precisely the one who
was already partly acquainted with those
works.
In this fact there lies an immense and
tragic significance. “To him that hath
(mental possessions) shall be given.” By
some law of nature—almost a malign
law—it seems that the mentally starved
soul is prevented from desiring the very
food that will save it. Though you offer
to the uncultured and empty-minded
man a whole world of entrancing and
elevating pleasure—such a world is con
tained in the works of Dickens—he will
never take the initial step unless some
favourable chance or accident open his
mind to the world he is losing.
But though volumes—too many, in the
He who is “interested” in Dickens is
opinion of Professor James—have been
written on the psychology of appercep he who has learnt something about the
tion, little or nothing has been written novelist’s early struggles, or has read one
�44
THE SECRET OF HERBART
or more of his works and wishes to go
farther, or who, in some other way, has
acquired a certain number of ideas con
cerning the novelist. The announce
ment of a “ Dickens Reading ” attracts
such a one immediately. The old ideas
lay hold of the new announcement; a
simple kind of apperception takes place;
interest is aroused, and following in the
train of interest comes moral protection,
if not moral stimulus and guidance.
The man is penetrable, he is open to
influences; above all, he has something
in his mind that is worth having: he
has an interest.
He who is not “ interested ” in Dickens
is probably the man who is wholly
ignorant of him; whose life would be
invigorated, purified, and rendered
happier and more worthy by an interest
in the novelist; who may, indeed, be
sinking to moral perdition owing to the
lack of such interests as these; and who,
unless such interests are aroused, or
unless saved by some intense and
perhaps unwholesome form of religious
belief, is fated so to sink. “ The stupid
man cannot be virtuous.” He is im
penetrable ; he cannot be influenced;
he has nothing in his mind that is worth
having : he has no interest.
“ Dull fools,” in Milton’s terminology,
may regard not only “ divine philosophy,”
but the novels of Dickens and every
fascinating book that has been written,
as “harsh and crabbed.” And yet it
would seem to be a possible task, if
this apperception doctrine is no fiction,
so to build a mental structure into the
minds of the young as to render these
books
Musical as is Apollo’s lute,
And a perpetual feast of nectar’d sweets
Where no crude surfeit reigns.
And here, be it observed, the question
is not one of natural intelligence. The
rustic who stayed away from a Dickens
meeting might have been endowed with
congenital abilities equal to those of
anyone who came. The question is one
of acquired ideas, and ideas are
“acquired” in the first instance, not
from the abysses of the soul itself, but
from nature and human nature around.
Once acquired, they possess an assertive
ness of their own, often slight, but never
entirely or finally negligible; and the
power of forming alliances among them
selves, dissoluble or eternal with the
dissolution or eternity of the soul itself.
One-half, at least, of education consists
in thus providing the soul of each child
with masses of related and articulated
ideas. Education is more—far more—
than “ drawing out.”
Scarcely one working man out of ten
has made the discovery that there can
be pleasure in books. Not only ninetenths of the thought of the age, but also
of the humour of the age are unmeaning
to the ignorant. “ The person who can
learn easily (and who wishes to learn)
is he who already knows much.”1
The
writer’s
experience
with
“ Dickens Readings ” was repeated with
his other ventures. The vast majority
of Englishmen, he discovered, are not
“ interested ” in English literature or
English history; owing to a limited and
non-humanistic education, their minds
have never accumulated a sufficiency of
ideas to generate the apperceptive
process. Life is all the poorer; hell, if
there is a hell, all the richer. Still more
emphatically is the English nation devoid
1 Mill, in Essay on Nature. The words in
parentheses are added by the present writer.
�THE SECRET OR HERBART
of interest in the great historical char
acters to whom we owe the Jewish pro
phetic literature. This held of study is
wholly unknown except to a microscopi
cally minute portion of the nation. The
lack of interest here is the more ludicrous
because of the immense claims put
forward on behalf of this literature, the
immense amount of talk concerning
“Biblical teaching,” and the immense
possibilities of inspiration and consola
tion which Biblical literature possesses.
The writer has put the matter to the
test; under the most favourable condi
tions (absence of counter-attractions,
etc.) not thirty persons out of three
thousand are interested in Isaiah—less
than one per cent.1
Yet, in each of the three subjects that
have been mentioned there exists vast
power of inspiring, thrilling, and eleva
ting man; but before this power can
come into play a certain sufficiency of
ideas must be accumulated; a fairly
wide outlook must be opened out—and
it must be done for most people early in
life.
A curriculum which is defective in
this respect will win no praise from the
Herbartians. The two greatest followers
of Herbart—Dorpfeld and Ziller—
devoted their best powers to “concen
trating ” the curriculum around those
subjects which confer ideas, convinced
that only if the mind is well supplied
1 No Roman Catholics can be more igno
rant of three-quarters of the Bible than
English Protestants. Note that the question is
not one concerning the skill of any particular
teacher or lecturer. People are not “inte
rested ” in such things : they can scarcely con
ceive of them being made interesting.
And
therefore they refuse to waste time in putting the
matter to a test.
45
with mental food can mental and moral
health—manifested, for example, in
interest and ultimately in character—be
present. There may be danger here:
the Herbartian may easily become a
mere lecturer who pours forth in reckless
abundance his extensive stores of know
ledge; his pupils may become passive
recipients of these ill-digested stores.
But, however great this danger may be,
there is another danger greater still—that
the curriculum of the school may be so
defective in subjects which confer ideas
and enrich the mind that interest in the
great facts of the universe may never be
kindled at all. No interest in science
can flourish in a vacuous mind; no
interest in history, in literature, in moral
conduct.
Ziller’s basis for “ concentration ” was
narrower than Dorpfeld’s, the former
choosing humanistic subjects only (fairy
tales, biography, history), the latter
including nature-knowledge also. But
the principle from which they started
was the same ; the mind needs ideas as
much as the body needs food. Deprive
the mind of its legitimate mental food,
and the springs of interest will dry up.
The curriculum must not confine itself
to conveying mere skill in writing, read
ing, or Latin versification, or lay main
stress upon formal studies like grammar
or mathematics. Important though
these may be, the “ knowledge ” subjects
are more important still; it is they that
possess significance for the moral life; it
is therefore for them that the Herbartian
is specially solicitous; it is in connection
with them that apperception takes place.
Mentally and morally man cannot
live in a vacuum. A deficiency in ideas
means a deficiency in everything that is
�46
THE SECRET OF HERBART
worthily distinctive of man; it means
“dulness and impenetrability.” Igno
rance is “a vacuity in which the soul
sits motionless and torpid for want of
attraction.”1
tured ” man—many a Master of Ballantrae, with a “ love of serious reading ”__
is a scoundrel; many a comparatively
uncultured man is, to say the least,
decent and respectable. But the objec
There are writers, presuming them tors small blame to them for being
selves to be critics of the Herbartian objectors, seeing that even Herbartians
system, who so misunderstand the maxim, often fail to know how immensely vital
“ Stupid men cannot be virtuous,” as to their own doctrines are—do but affirm
imagine that it refers to ignorance of the what Herbart himself affirmed : “ manymeans by which a virtuous end can be sided interest is far from virtue.” Nay,
attained.1 The stupid man, they seem though interest provides for the “adjust
2
to say, may see the virtuous goal, but ment ” or “ rightness ” of character, it
knows not how to set about reaching it. does not fully provide—Herbart tells us
for its “ firmness, decision, and invul
Surely no great system could rest its
nerability.” Accordingly, after devoting
reputation on a principle so trite as this.
Herbartianism, alone among educational one book of the Allgemeine Pädagogik to
systems, has recognised the momentum “ Many-sidedness of Interest,” Herbart
of ideas. Apart from ideas there are no proceeds (much, doubtless, to the sur
ideals; an ideal, in fact, is an idea. The prise of his “ critics ”) to devote another
morally stupid man may not only fail to to “ Moral Strength of Character.” The
see the means, he fails to see the end; facts are obvious. The man with keen
or if he see it, he is too mentally interest in books, or nature, or politics,
pauperised to do so with any vividness may not be morally perfect or religiously
or force—to see in it any significance. complete; certain of his interests may,
The currents of his mind set in other indeed, open up possibilities of evil—for
directions; no vis a tergo has been example, the evil of reading pernicious
enlisted in the cause of moral progress. literature; but, nevertheless, his interests
Appeal to your rustic, seek to thrill him are, on the whole, a mighty protection
with what thrills you, and you will for him; the sensual cannot wholly or
discover, as never before, how vitally greatly engross his attention; he is left
important a certain degree of richness of with little time for vice. He may fall,
mind is if a man is ever to attain more but he has latent powers of recuperation
than the humblest heights of character. in himself. The teacher has blessedly
Without this certain degree of richness inoculated him “ before the hot desires
you may as well appeal to a block of for sensual pleasures have so infected
blood and veins as to make virtue and
Dartmoor granite.
wisdom impossible.”1 All things of
Herbartianism, again, is often con the moral life are possible to such a
founded with a colourless “ culture ” man; few things are possible to the
gospel, and great discredit is thrown boor. And, even were this not true,
upon it in consequence. Many a “ cul- culture is desirable for its own sake if vice
1 Johnson’s Rasselas.
2 Journal of Education, March, 1903.
1 Pestalozzi, in How Gertrude Teaches her
Children.
�47
THE SECRET OF HERBART
--------- V---------------------------- ;
itself “ loses half its evil by losing all its mental constituents, will be manifest.
Contrast cruelty with tenderness; the
grossness.”
love of gambling with the love of know
The standard objection to Herbartian- ledge ; drunkenness with patriotism.
ism, that scoundrels may be men of
Virtue, in fact, rests on wholesome
culture, is of no validity whatever unless
we can prove that their scoundrelism is ideas. “The limits of the circle of
the result of their culture. This has thought,” says Herbart, “ are the limits
never been done. Here and there for the character.” Bigotry, cruelty,
history presents us with prominent cases impurity, intemperance, selfishness —
of the unholy alliance, and we wonder there is normally in each of these failings
as we read ; our very wonder being a an element of mental deficiency ; for we
mute testimony to the fact that culture may ignore extreme cases, in which the
does not, as a rule, conduce to immo whole character is in the grip of a
rality; it is the strangeness of the case devouring passion or prejudice—such
that attracts our attention. Here and cases are pathological, and concern the
there, too, the short and simple annals physician rather than the moralist. The
of the poor present us with unlettered vicious man is, in large measure at least,
men or simple girls who are morally a man whose mind does not re-echo to
heroic; and again we wonder, our moral appeal, who has no apperception
wonder testifying afresh to the same masses ready to give the appeal any
fact. Other things being equal, culture meaning. Virtue, on the other hand, is
conduces to morality, at least to any largely a matter of apperception, and is
morality that is above the crudest and thus immensely more complex than vice.
It is not everyone who can respond to
simplest.
moral appeal or rise to moral heights,
And why is this ? For a reason that but any fool can sin.
scarcely any English writer—at any rate,
No ; culture has never in itself con
any English educationist—seems to have
put in precise form, though the reason duced to vice.1 Culture combined with
itself, no doubt, has been vaguely mani a crude atheism may seem to conduce
fest to all thinkers. Virtue is a more to vice ; so may the absence of culture.
complex thing than vice, more dependent Culture combined with cerebral or
upon ideas, less dependent upon sensual spinal disease may seem to conduce to
excitement. The drunkard’s vice is not vice; so may the absence of culture.
the result of ideas, though, of course, an If it could be proved that the unspeak
idea of drink has to be present; the vice able profligacy of Rome in the early
draws its strength from a lower source. years of the sixteenth century was the
Sensualism, again, draws its strength result of the Renaissance culture, the
from the body, not the mind; and the doctrines of Herbart would receive a
gambler’s vice, once more, is largely a
1 “ Brain-workers provide the most hopeless
matter of physical excitement. Contrast cases of dipsomania.” (Canon Horsley, Prisons
with every vice a virtue; in each case a and Prisoners.') After allowing for disease of
mind or body, the present writer questions
greater complexity of structure, a greater gravely whether this statement has much general
richness of design, a greater wealth of significance.
�THE SECRET OF HERBART
severe, though not a fatal, blow. It
cannot be proved. “Between the moral
enfeeblement and the aesthetic vigour (of
the Renaissance times) there existed no
causal link.”1 There is, on the con
trary, every reason to believe that,
other things being equal, the man of
culture can rise to moral possibilities
that are not possibilities for the boor;
he can apperceive moral situations
which remain purely unintelligible to
the boor; he sees twenty moral duties
where the boor sees one. Without ideas
there can be no virtue; with few ideas
there can be few virtues; with many
ideas all things in the way of virtue are
possible. “The temptations of intel
lect are not comparable to the tempta
tions of dulness.”1
2
Every idea is a potential tendril by
which a man may touch and be touched;
through which he may be influenced in
the direction of good. “And of evil,
too,” an objector suggests. “ No,”
again replies the Herbartian; “ideas
are less significant for vice than for
virtue; the latter is complex; the former
is simple. Ideas work more for virtue
than for vice, for virtue is more spiritual
than vice.”
thing than to study the lives of those
who are dead. But living heroes and
gentlemen are not found in every
dwelling-house, and the children who
come to us will perhaps never learn
nobility at all unless they learn it from
us or from the historical examples we
hold up before them.
But, it may be said, what about those
spotless souls which have grown up amid
squalor? What about “Little Nell”?
what about “Jo”? what about “Lizzie
Hexham ”?
The answer is, that amid absolute
squalor and crime no pure soul can
grow up. There must be influences for
good if the soul is not to take the down
ward path. To dogmatise would be
foolish; to set limits to the influence
of good, even amid unpromising condi
tions, would be foolish; but—unless
this book is fatally wrong in its essential
doctrines—there can be no virtue in a
soul that has never seen or heard of
morality. None of the genuine examples
of purity and heroism springing up amid
unpromising surroundings contradict this
statement; and to picture unreal examples
of such purity and heroism is “ morally
mischievous.”1
Virtue, in short, can be “taught.” It
depends largely upon teaching, upon the
possession of a wealth of ideas, more
especially of ideas concerned with
human life in the past and present.
The “present,” maybe, is even more
powerful than the “past,” and the
example of the present more powerful
than that of the past. To live amid
heroes and gentlemen would be a finer
Let us admit that all the springs of
virtue are not known; that heredity
plays strange freaks at times; that this
man is by nature unreceptive, this one
by nature receptive. The writer gives
no guarantee that, granted all he asks,
virtue will spring forth—Minerva-like—
equipped at every point. But he will
stake the truth of this book and the
1 J. A. Symonds.
2 Arnold of Rugby.
1 As George Gissing called it, with direct refer
ence to Lizzie Hexham. See his Dickens.
�THE SECRET OF HERBAR!'
49
would be truer to say that our views of
sin are changing and becoming—be it
observed—not only more scientific, but
also far more conformable with the ideas
which the ancient Jews, the men who
have taught the world what sin is, formed
ages ago. 441 have sinned,” said Saul;
44....... 1 have played the fool and have
erred exceedingly.”1 44 The notion of
sin” among the Jews “is that of blunder
or dereliction, and the word is associated
with others that indicate error, folly, or
want of skill and insight.”2 The word
“insight” brings us on to Herbart, and
It is with good reason that the Her- the word 44 folly ” reminds us that
bartians lay such stress upon the teaching “stupid people cannot be virtuous.”
of the 44humanities”—good literature,
biographies, history. It is these subjects
If all this is really a 44 secret,” it is
—and these only—which store the mind time that the curtain should be lifted.
with such apperception material as makes And it verily seems to have been a
a man morally sensitive. Without the 44 secret ” to educators and to preachers.
possession of such material he cannot “Virtue cannot be taught” is on the
be successfully appealed to. He is lips of many, and as the lips utter the
urged to be heroic; he does not know amazing falsehood, the Herbartian asks :
what heroism means; Curtius, and Alfred, 44 What refined virtue exists under the
and Livingstone are unknown names. sun that is not the result of teaching?”
He is urged to become a worthy citizen: Brutal necessity, acting through natural
he does not know what citizenship means ; selection, can teach much, has taught
the annals of his native town are a sealed much in the past centuries; but the
book to him. He is urged to be virtues that necessity can teach are the
courteous; he does not know what cruder and more selfish virtues. Every
courtesy means : the classic and historic grace of life has been taught to us; and,
examples of graceful considerateness are unless we teach them to others, they
as wholly strange to him as, perchance, will never be acquired at all. From two
living examples among the companions sources only do we learn to love nobility,
he meets. And so with the whole series self-sacrifice, self-control; from the living
of virtues. They rest largely upon examples around us, and from the
teaching, and if they are not taught—if examples that the historic past can bring.
the virtues incarnated in living persons To a child in a slum or in an agricultural
or historical examples are not presented wilderness the former come scarcely at
to the minds of the young—the young all; even to the most favoured among
will never grow up virtuous.
us they come but rarely. How immensely
truth of Herbartianism upon the con
verse ; that a mind deprived from birth
of all noble examples, whether in the
present or in the historic past, will grow
up without moral sensitiveness. 44 In
the way of virtue,” said the Guardian,
reviewing a little work of the present
writer, 444 the wayfaring man, though a
fool, shall not err.’ ” 44 But,” the writer
replies, 44 is this true if he is an absolute
and complete 4 fool,’ one deprived of all
moral examples, one whose mind, apperceptively, is a blank?”
Preachers tell us that there is, in these
days, a “lessened sense of sin.” It
1 I Samuel, xxvi., 21.
2 W. R. Smith, in Prophets of Israel.
E
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THE SECRET OF HERBART
important, then, is the work of presenting
to mankind—and especially to the
scholars of our schools—the inspiring
biographies which history has to offer!
Such biographies, presented in an his
torical setting, and preceded by fairy-tale
and legend, constitute the “ Gesinnungsstoff” of the Zillerians, the material
for “ Gesinnungsunterricht ”—character
forming instruction. In such material
must be included, of course, the price
less biographies which the Bible1 can
suitably provide the school; unless such
material, biblical, national, and cosmo
politan, is presented in rich abundance
to the youth of England, we must expect,
well-nigh with astronomical certainty, that
the youth of England will grow up bar
barous, uncultured, and immoral. It is
such material, and such material alone,
which enables a human being to “ apperceive ” moral truth; it is an educational
bread of life.
Nourish imagination in her growth,
And give the mind that apprehensive power
Whereby she is made quick to recognise
The moral properties and scope of things ;1
if it is possible to “ give ” the mind this
power, then it may be possible to vitalise
or renovate the moral universe by means
of education. Something can be “ stuck
on,” even if “natural gifts” can not.
Virtue, though mysteries may yet remain
to baffle and confound us, can be
“ taught.”
The message of Herbart is interest;
the “ secret of Herbart ” is apperception.
Interest in almost anything is good—
interest in nature, in art, in politics;
and many interests are apperceptive,
dependent upon previous knowledge.
But if there is one interest which is
above all others important, and above all
others dependent upon apperception, it
is interest in moral goodness ; and this
will never be aroused in a living soul—
even though the trumpet of judgment be
But yet—but yet—“ Virtue cannot be
heard and hell burst open at men’s feet
taught!” Far more true would it be to —unless the soul has known, in concrete
say “genius cannot be taught,” “ origin forms, what moral goodness means.
ality cannot be taught,” “ talent cannot
Hence the immense importance of the
be taught,” or, in the words of Goethe, work undertaken in the face of national
to confess that “ the older one grows the prejudice by the Moral Instruction
more one prizes natural gifts, because by
League.
no possibility can they be procured and
stuck on.” A thick veil still hangs over
The several years during which that
heredity and variation; and the child League has existed have been years of
comes to us with a physical and mental momentous and rapid progress. Pro
endowment for which God, or fate, or fessors of education have stood aloof;
his parents, not we, are responsible. ecclesiastics, nervous at an apparition
But only a thin veil hangs over this that threatens doom to their predomi
other region where virtue lives in eternal nance in the school, have expressed a
wedlock with apperception. There is contempt they cannot wholly feel; the
less of mystery here. If the teacher can new reformers, conscious that their work
has more significance, promise, and
1 Expurgated possibly, though not necessarily,
but certainly put forth in a more attractive form potency than any work of the past
than at present, with larger print and with
illustrations.
1 Wordsworth.
�THE SECRET OF HERBART
century, axe resolved, though deserted
by the supposed representatives of the
psychology and the ethics of education,
“to save the nation alone.”
5i
or the first work of education is to give
this Aesthetic Revelation of the World.1
Tolerance, generosity, magnanimity
are impossible for a mind that is vacant
of ideas; it is too deficient in imagina
tion to “ make allowances.” The miser
is deaf to appeal; no part of his nature
goes out towards the ideals that others
seek. The gambler listens unmoved to
the story of higher things; the story
awakens no echo in him. And so with
the entire list of vices; ’apart from those
to which an individual may be con
genitally inclined, or into which he has
slipped through blind habit, his vices are
almost wholly the result of his mental
deficiencies, of an absence of moral
sensitiveness, of an impenetrability, of a
lack of such elevated ideas as are able to
move into the focus of consciousness
when an appeal is made from without;
in a word, of failure in apperception.
Even, indeed, if the proposals of the
Moral Instruction League were in the
direction of a dry and abstract formula
tion of moral truths—a “ stamping-in of
maxims” such as Herbart condemned—
those proposals would not merit the
contempt of the community; for a bald
and perfunctory enunciation of such
truths is better than a complete ignoring,
or the fragmentary and wholly insuffi
cient treatment which is the rule rather
than the exception in the British primary
school. It is doubtful whether any idea,
or maxim, or exhortation, however
abstract, is entirely ineffective in build
ing up the structure of morality; for
conduct comes home more closely than
many things to the “business and
bosoms” of children. Still, there are
“ A kind heart, coupled with a narrow
good ways and bad ways in every art.
mind, cannot conceive the higher forms
The League starts with the concrete,
well knowing that an abstract principle of duty to the State, to humanity, to
unpopular causes. Culture and mental
is the result of thought directed to this.
force combined regulate the quality of
Herbartianism—repetition is needful the duty paid. The difference between
in this domain—has a double message. abject superstition and lofty piety depends
Its exoteric message is that of many-sided on the intellect, not on the heart, of the
interest; cultivate interests, even in worshipper.”2 And as with man so
humble subjects, and you give life a with woman. Gissing may, for a moment,
certain momentum which will carry it abandon in despair the explanation of
past the dangerous points where temp the shrewishness in Dickens’s women,
tation lurks. Its esoteric message is that and ask : “Do you urge that Dickens
of apperception ; men are blind to moral should give a cause for this evil temper ?
as to other truths unless there has Cause there is none. It is the pecu
grown up or been built up within them liarity of these women that no one can
a sensitive retina composed of thousands conjecture why they behave so ill. The
of minute elements. In Herbart’s words,
1 The name of one of Herbart’s earliest and
there must be “points of contact” most important writings is The Aesthetic Reve
between the soul and the world of lation {or Presentation} of the World (or Uni
verse} as the Chief Work of Education.
nature and human nature. The chief
* Cotter Morison, in The Service of Man.
�52
THE SECRET OF HERBART
nature of the animals—nothing more
can be said.” But more is said elsewhere.
“Sheer dulness and monotony of exist
ence explains their unamiable habits.
They quarrel because they can get no
other form of excitement.” “ ‘ Dolly
Varden ’ is totally without education, and
her mother’s failings are traceable, first
and foremost, to that very source.”1
great need was “ reverence.” A strange
reply ! How, then, is “ reverence ” to
be generated in the school? What is
the magic key to unlock this portal?
Precisely—/^ teaching of history and
literature. It is only through familiarity
with characters which deserve reverence
that we learn reverence. “ ‘ Men will
not accept the gospel,’ we are told. But
why should we expect them to feel the
historical meaning of any great world
tragedy, if history and literature—the
‘ humanistic ’ studies which make us
sensitive to nobleness, to pathos, to
martyrdom, to divinity—have been kept
afar off? Why should they reverence
Christ if they are never taught to rever
ence Alfred or Sidney? The thing is
absurd. We exclude the ‘humanities’
from the school, or, what is worse, we
teach them soullessly, or, what is worse
again, we confuse them with dates, and
grammar, and construing—and then we
complain that the ‘gospel’ is neglected.”1
When J. A. Symonds attributed to the
study of science “an extension of the
province of love,” he was scarcely
guilty of exaggeration. Ignorance, that
draws a veil over the causes of human
action, sees the diabolical everywhere.
The Gospel of Love sent myriads of
witches to the stake in the Middle
Ages, not because the Infallible Church
was malicious and cruel, but because she
was ignorant. And the Church of the
Gospel of Love still mourns for “sin,” and
still hears, though remotely, the rustle of
the Devil’s wings, because she has never
adequately realised, with Herbart, that
“Cultivate reverence—cultivate reve
“the will is rooted in the circle of
rence— cultivate reverence.” Exhorta
thought.”
tions like this are unmeaning until direc
Vice is less appreciably based on tions are given how “ reverence ” can be
apperception than virtue. The soul may “cultivated.” And when the directions
be transparent to every influence of the are given—if ever they are—they will
former kind, opaque to everything that amount to this: “ Place before your
is subtler; just as fog and mist, through pupils historical characters worthy of
which the sun’s radiations force their reverence.” It shows how wholly unscien
way with difficulty, are more transparent tific are our ways of regarding moral edu
than the clearest air to the coarser vibra cation that the exhortation, “ Cultivate
reverence,” could be applauded as an
tions of sound.
exhortation of an opposite kind to the
At a recent educational conference the exhortations of the Moral Instruction
question of moral education was raised League. “Reverence” is an effect—not
by Mr. F. J. Gould. A succeeding a mystery ; every virtue we possess, every
speaker, after discounting excessive aspiration that moves us, is an effect—
“teaching” of morals, claimed that the not a mystery.
1 Dickens, by George Gissing.
1 The Critics oj Herbartianism.
writer.
By the
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And if it be asked, “ Where, in avail
able form, is this humanistic material to
be found ? ” the answer must be, “ In
works like the Penny Poets and the
Books for the Bairns and the Children's
Plutarch." If in every school of Eng
land, day and evening, books like these
were known, read aloud, talked about
—parts of them even learnt by heart
—and if this were done not soullessly,
“reverence,” and many another grace and
virtue, would have a chance. “ Vacuity
of mind and pettiness of motive would
no longer be the sore affliction they now
are.”1
53
cedure, not because these are in them
selves unimportant, but because they are
likely to draw off the attention of teachers
and the public from the spot where the
greatest educational weakness of all is to
be found.
There is much that is encouraging in
the spirit and ideals of education; there
is probably an increase of intellectual
life in all our schools. Every year some
hundreds of teachers are found attending
laborious holiday courses on the continent
of Europe and elsewhere; perhaps no
other profession can show such signs of
interest and zeal. There is now existent
Vast, then, as is the importance of at least the germ, the presage, of a future
apperceptive power, especially vast is its Science of Education.
importance in one realm—that of history
But such teachers as these are being
and literature. An interest in natural
science—a readiness to see the signifi led rather to cultivate an interest in
cance of a material thing or event—is a formal subjects than in those subjects
priceless thing, essential indeed to the through which alone the school can be
dignity and progress of man, and a rejuvenated and the nation regenerated.
valuable protective against the assaults The study of phonetics, and of modern
of evil; but immeasurably more impor languages generally, is awakening more
tant is an interest in the past deeds and and more interest every year. There
thoughts and creations of the human was need for this, and the writer has
race. Such an interest is a chief means learnt much, and hopes to learn more,
by which character can be built up, and from the pioneers of the reformed method.
practically the only means by which it But—the greatest need of all is being
can become sensitive and morally pro forgotten in the meanwhile.
Again, there is much that is promising
gressive. “The dead generations are,
in truth, our dead selves, from which we in the new methods of teaching mathe
rise to higher things. By the past we matics. Many an artisan will willingly
attend a class in “ practical mathe
live.”2
matics,” and profit by his attendance,
One individual at least—the writer— who will never be attracted by abstract
has sadly to confess to the apprehension Euclid. But—the greatest need of all
and misgiving which he feels when look is being forgotten.
Again, there is much that is sound
ing upon some of the most promising
present-day reforms in educational pro- and suggestive in Professor Armstrong’s
plea that we should make our science
1 Professor Armstrong, in The Teaching of teaching “heuristic,” and encourage the
Scientific Method.
self-activity and inventiveness of our
2 Dr. Laurie, in The Training of Teachers.
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THE SECRET OF HERBART
pupils. This is one of the educational
needs of the age. But—the greatest need
of all is being forgotten.
slynesses, cowardices, frettings, resent
ments, obstinacies, crookedness in view
ing things, vulgar conceit, impertinence,
and selfishness.
Mental cultivation,
All the three reforms referred to lie in though it does not of herself touch the
the realm of formal studies and dexteri greater wounds of human nature, does a
ties. Correct phonetic pronunciation • good deal for these lesser defects.”1
practical mathematics ; the scientific
spirit—none of these things contribute
Now, if it appears, after all, that manywith absolute directness to human culture. sided interest is a foe, not only to these
They may contribute much indirectly, “ lesser forms of moral obliquity,” but to
for an interest in such things is of price such of the “ greater wounds of human
less value, apart from the dignity they nature ” as drunkenness and gambling,
add to existence by contributing to effi we have a right to claim that this is an
ciency and power—this in itself is a agency equal to religion herself in the
moral factor. But moral sensitiveness very province that religion regards as
and advance are dependent on human her own. And if even drunkenness and
istic studies that feed the soul.
gambling are not sufficiently crucial tests ;
if the vice of impurity—most abhorred
And now, perhaps, there is some of all vices by the Church—is the one
possibility of estimating aright the relative Newman has especially in view when he
moral values of Religion and Many-sided speaks of the impotence of all agencies
Interest.
except the Catholic Church; then surely
there is significance in the fact that study
That moral evil is tameable only by —the study of the Hebrew language—
religion can no longer be asserted, if this was recommended by St. Jerome as
other agency possess the vitality here efficacious in “ keeping away unholy
claimed. And Newman himself, who thoughts.”
at other moments saw no power but the
It is true that culture cannot success
Catholic Church capable of conquering
“ the fierce energy of passion,” goes far fully compete with religion in the deeper
in the Herbartian direction. Since the crises of life. The penitent thief and
time when St. Paul enumerated the fruits the God-intoxicated monk are not her
of the flesh and the fruits of the spirit, trophies. It is true also that culture
no writer has tabulated a more impres cannot lift the veil and solve the mystery
sive list of the vices than the one drawn of things. She is more impotent than
up by this man—vices attributed by him religion when facing the problems
to absence of secular culture. “ Cultiva of death, and storm, and earthquake;
tion of mind,” he tells us, “is not the for religion, with her Lamb Slain from
same thing as religious principle; but it before the foundation of the world,
contributes much to remove from our can find some meaning in these calam
path the temptation to many lesser forms ities, or seek a meaning where none is
of moral obliquity. Human nature is obvious.
susceptible of a host....... of little vices
1 Newman, in The Present Position of
and disgraceful infirmities, jealousies, Catholics.
�THE SECRET OF HERBART
But the concern of this book is with
moral potencies. If moral evil is so deso
lating to mankind that a propitiatory sacri
fice has daily to be offered on modern
altars, the confessional to be set up for
the minutest scrutiny of the conscience,
and ev®ry form of hope and fear enlisted
on the side of virtue; then surely culture,
which wars not unsuccessfully against
ths same relentless foe, has a place by
the side of religion. Nay, when we
ponder on what might be if ever culture
and education came to their own and
were valued aright, all the resources of
the school being directed to the humani
sation of the race, we begin to doubt
whether the claim to equality is not too
modest; and whether, if the world once
realised the possibilities lurking in the
doctrine of apperceptive interest, the
revivals of the Protestant world and the
sacraments of the Catholic would not
appear morally feeble in comparison. If
any enhanced kindliness, charitableness,
sympathy, and public spirit distinguish
thfe century from the tenth, it must be
attributed not to religion—whose doc
trines were known as well then as now,
and were believed in more implicitly—
but to the march of culture and the
increase of apperceptive power.
What* then, from the educationist’s
standpoint, is the practical conclusion
and the summary of the matter ? What
are we to learn from the preceding reflec
tions and experiences ?
A simple thing—a thing so simple,
indeed, that when stated in these pages
many a reader will wonder that there
was ever need to state it at all. The
school must nourish the souls of its pupils,
and the only nourishment possible is
ideas. There may be other tasks—there
55
are; the soul must be exercised and
trained as well as fed; but the feeding is
the first and essential thing; and the
richest food of all—that which best of
all builds up moral fibre—is the human
istic food that comes down to us from
the past in the form of fairy-tale, bio
graphy, history, and literature.
There may be difficulties in the teach
ing of such subjects as these; and the
difficulties are increased tenfold by the
disrepute in which these studies are held,
and the increased attention now given
by teachers to matters of a wholly dif
ferent kind. Even Herbart, seeing the
immensity of the problem, came to shrink
from presenting history too freely to the
undeveloped, unappreciative minds of
his Swiss pupils. The problem remains
immense, but mainly because so few are
working at it.
The battle on behalf of humanistic
subjects will be a stubborn one. It is
these very subjects that have been
neglected in the education of most of our
school managers and teachers ; and in
accordance with the whole teaching of
the- present work such a neglect must
spell want of appreciation for the neg
lected subjects. We cannot, therefore,
expect either school managers or teachers
to be enthusiastic over them until
the supreme value of these things has
been clearly demonstrated; especially
as there are rivals whose claims are
warmly championed on economic and
other grounds.
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time.
If Longfellow is right, such “lives of
�56
THE SECRET OF HERBART
great men ” are of supreme value in the have closed the present essay. But the
school.
educational world is dominated by false
or misleading formulae, and two of these
We live by admiration, hope, and love.
need further notice.
If Wordsworth is right, any system of
education which fails to supply the
Amateur educationists — professional
humanistic material which kindles admi
educationists also, to an extent that is
ration, hope, and love is an education
a striking commentary upon their own
for death, and not for life.
educational ideals—are in the habit of
using a phrase which, though negatively
“Children,” said the late Mr. Rooper,
not without value, is, from the construc
“ must be assisted to admire heroism in
tive standpoint, undiluted nonsense.
all its forms.” “An intelligent study
They tell us that the teacher’s main task
of the Bible and Shakespeare, and of
is not “ instruction,” but “ training,” or
classical English writers, is incomparably
“ character-forming.”
No Herbartian
more important” than other things in
will deny that “ character-forming ”
the curriculum. “ The epitome of edu
should be the true aim of all education,
cational studies is Nature and Human
except of that kind which is narrowly
Nature; the latter is the more impor
technical and professional; though even
tant.” Pupils must be made acquainted
in the latter kind there are moral impli
“through literary studies with the best
cations. Moreover, no Herbartian will
side of human nature.”
deny that the “ instruction ” given by the
If Mr. Rooper is right, the most
primary schools of England has failed to
important task of the school is to teach
form character. But to imagine that
children to admire the “best side of
there can be character-forming apart from
human nature.”
instruction; to imagine that instruction
“ There are no fairy-tales like the old is a comparatively unimportant thing,
Greek ones for beauty, and wisdom, and is, indeed, not only undiluted nonsense,
truth, and for making children love but indicates well-nigh criminal ignor
ance. Herbart, at any rate, “had no
noble deeds.”
If Kingsley is right, these and other conception of education without instruc
“fairy-tales” should be taught to the tion,” and this instruction, let us observe,
was not exclusively the instruction which
younger children in every school.
goes in England by the name of “ reli
Every Herbartian, in Germany, gious,” and which, though professedly
America, and elsewhere, believes that formative of character, is by no means
humanistic material—fairy-tales, legends, superior in this respect to other kinds of
Herbart, brushing aside
Bible stories, historical biographies, instruction.
literature, history itself—is of supreme the idle prattle which talks of character
moral value. If they are right, the in forming as something separate from the
ference is plain. Calvary is nearer to feeding of the mind, enunciated a doc
Parnassus than world and Church have trine and invented a phrase which has
already infused life into the educational
ever thought.
work of two continents, and is, perhaps,
With these words the writer might destined to rejuvenate educational work
�THE SECRET OF HERBART
57
in this country. Instruction, he said, pupils acquiring any taste for reading,
should be “ educative instruction ”—in for history, for mathematics, or for the
Bible. But to imagine that there can be
struction that makes for character.
character-forming apart from instruction;
Instruction, that is, which creates to imagine that instruction is a compara
powerful and dominating interest in tively subsidiary matter—this, as already
nature and in human nature, especially suggested or demonstrated, is perilous
in the latter; instruction which makes nonsense, and is revealed as such the
life superior to animalism by drawing moment we realise the meaning of the
off the attention elsewhere; instruction apperception doctrine. Character is so
which, by the creation of an appercep closely rooted in ideas that a deficiency
tion organ, replaces sensualism by a in these latter is fatal to any richness of
the former. Elevated interest cannot
sensibility to higher things.
exist; apperception of moral truth can
This sensibility depends upon apper not take place.
ception, and apperception depends on
At another point also the writer has to
instruction. It is impossible in a vac
hold in doubt much that is promising
uous mind.
in the advanced educational thought of
To regard the creation of elevated the day. From every side we hear
interests as something distinct from the that our schools have not taught the
formation of character is foolish and modern youth to “think”; they have
In the
disastrous, if the message of this book has not aroused “self-activity.”
any validity ; and Herbart rightly placed struggle for existence, we are told, it is
“ many-sided interest ” before the teacher this “ heuristic ” attitude that will deter
as the proximate goal of his work. But mine survival; accordingly, unless our
it was not the final goal. Moral culture pupils acquire something more than
and training—the “ subjective ” side of “ mere knowledge,” their education will
education—was to crown and supple be a failure. In very similar language,
ment the building up of an “objective” Sir Thomas Acland emphasised, a year
system of wholesome impulses and in or two ago, the need for “ thoroughness,”
terests. Herbart protested against an and protested against an evening school
illegitimate and pernicious divorce of teaching too many subjects.
will from intellect, of sacred from secular,
Literally, this is some of the best and
of character from interest, of training
from instruction. He is the one edu most authoritative educational thought in
cator in all history who is lucid and England ; it is good thought, and springs
categorical without failing to be syn from the recognition of a real need. It
thetic.
has only one fault: it is fifty years too
early in many of our towns and counties.
To oppose “instruction” to “char
The most immediate need of the pupil
acter-forming,” as many do, is thus only
legitimate if our instruction is hopelessly who attends our primary school is not
non-formative of elevated interests—as that his mind should be exercised^ but
our primary education is, too few of our that it should be fed with a rich refast
�58
THE SECRET OF HERBART
of imaginative and culture-giving material appears. We call it “Interest.” Why
—of historical and biographical ideas.
should a little knowledge of Alfred the
Great, received years ago at school,
It is no good to attempt gymnastics endow this poor mechanic with the
on an empty stomach. It is no good, power of experiencing elevated delight
as in Dickens’s novel, to urge a dying when yonder orator tells a story about
person to “ make an effort.” It is no the Wessex King ? We cannot precisely
good to dream that the Englishman will say, though we know that it is a fact,
ever acquire the power to “ think,” or and that yonder second mechanic, wholly
any interest in “ thinking,” so long as he devoid of the initial knowledge, listens
has no ideals. Now, ideals are much to the orator unmoved. We know that
the same as ideas. In historic ideas— there is a chance, though perhaps a re
in knowledge of the Bible, the history of mote one, of attracting the former to an
the world, the history of his own land— evening school or a literary guild, where,
he is appallingly defective; and until provided the teacher or the conductor is
this defect is supplied he will have little not a hide-bound pedant, new vistas
zeal, little genuine patriotism, little devo may be opened up and new inspira
tion to any high cause whatever. Feed tions be felt; we know also, with a
his soul first, and then will be the time sense of bitter disappointment, that
to teach him to think.1
the second mechanic will never sight
those vistas or feel those inspirations.
Thus the primary school—any school, All the harmonies of music depend, not
indeed, that is not merely “ technical ”— on the power of single notes, but on the
should at times take for its motto, “Cast support which notes, perhaps poor and
thy bread upon the waters, and thou tame in themselves, give to each other.
shalt find it after many days.” New No harmony can be generated out of a
impressions cannot always be apperceived single note, and the school should not
at once. “ Very often the teacher must attempt to generate it; but the school
introduce ideas into the mind of the may, legitimately enough, sometimes
pupil, not so much for their immediate sound these single notes in the ears of
importance as for the use to be made of the pupils, in the hope that, though
them at some future lesson,”1 or (shall apperception may not spring up now,
2
we not say ?) in some future year or some day it will; and that the notes,
decade. Somehow—this is a part of feeble and isolated at present, will then
the “ Secret ” of Herbart—ideas, colour be heard, with others, reverberating in a
less to-day, help to colour the whole of mighty harmony through all the passages
life when they meet kindred ideas to and crannies of the soul.
morrow; the new and the old rush
together, and, at the moment of union,
And as these notes reverberate, as old
as at the union of two chemical elements, ideas apperceive the new, Interest is
heat is generated and a new product generated, and baser attractions begin to
lose their charm. Thus, set free in part
1 That the latter need is not ignored by the from the slavery of the lower passions,
writer will be seen in his remarks on arithmetic,
the soul can pursue, with increased
Appendix I.
energy, the better things that the world
2 Professor Adams, in Primer of Teaching.
�THE SECRET OF HERBART
pf thought has to offer, discovering in
the pursuit ever fresh links of association
between the old and the new. Again
and again leaps up the apperception
flash; again and again is felt the interest
thrill. Character takes on, if not stronger,
at any rate nobler, tints. The colours
of life change. The things that once
delighted, and perhaps degraded, delight
and degrade no longer. More and more
tendrils are thrown out above; feebler
and feebler becomes the hold of those
below. No law of parsimony, no prin
ciple of conservation, applies to the
delights of apperception. Here, if any
where, is a spontaneous generation—
among the “dead” ideas. Unlike the
more material pleasures on which man
lavishes time and wealth, the pleasures
of apperception cost nothing ; their store
is illimitable; replenished, like the
emanations of radium, as if by an un
seen hand. Age cannot wither them,
nor custom stale their infinite variety.
In more prosaic language, we may say
that, by a suitable presentation of rich
and varied knowledge early in life, we
are giving our pupils the chance of being
protected from sin and passion by posses
sing interests of an elevated kind—in
terests which grow by what they feed on,
and will only cease if sanity or existence
cease.
Meanwhile, how fares the soul which,
though unfed of ideas, has been exer
cised on grammar, perchance, or de
clensions, or “sums”? The springs of
apperception have been drying up.
The doors of many-sided interest have
been slowly closing on their hinges.
But “ Sin ” has tempted and conquered ;
for she, wily siren, has attired herself in
rainbow hues, while her rival, Learning,
59
has appeared in sober grey. Passion
within and facility without combine to
confer on evil a delirious fascination;
no need of any rich complexity of ideas
to make attractive mankind’s eternal foe.
Though appeals may come from without,
they echo less and less loudly in the
chambers of the mind, and at last cease
to enter at all. The man is now impene
trable. Starved, in his early years, of
saving ideas, his mind has no inner re
sources when a voice has been heard
calling to higher things. The voice may
call, but to deaf ears; the light may
shine, but upon an atrophied retina.
Deprive him of ideas, and you deprive
him of the only means by which the
Christian Gospel, or any other Gospel,
can be interpreted or assimilated. De
prive him of ideas, and he encases him
self, sooner or later, in a carapace of
impenetrability. Evil habits may hang
like chains upon that carapace; they
gall him not. Appeals may beat against
it; they penetrate not. Martyrs and
redeemers die at the stake or at the cross
because those they would fain save do
not possess apperceptive resources. In
one or two passages of Holy Writ
which tell us of ears that hear not, of
eyes that are holden, of hearts that are
hardened, this grim doctrine seems to
be suggested; and appalling indeed is
the doctrine on its negative side, though
full of hope when once its positive
message is heard and understood. The
application of that positive message is the
work for educators, and for them alone.
In the scheme of formal stages of
instruction worked out by the Herbartians, the first stage is “ Vorbereitung,”
or Preparation. Ideas have to be sum
moned up in order to meet and interpret
the new material about to be presented,
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THE SECRET OF HERBART
In a wider sense may we not now say
that the school itself represents, in a
large measure, the stage of “ Vorbereitung ”? It is here that are laid the
foundations for the future interests of
life; it is here that should be developed
that receptivity towards moral appeal,
“ that sensibility of principle, that chastity
of honour which feels a stain like a
wound ” — in short, that apperceptive
readiness without which no virtue above
the crudest is possible. It may be said
that the task is too great for education
to accomplish. In that case the outlook
is ominous, for, if the task is too great
for education, it is a hundred times too
great for any other agency.
An American theological writer of
some eminence says that one immediate
need of the present age is “ the estab
lishment of the missionary motive among
the vital thoughts ” of man.1 In speak
ing of the evangelisation of ungrateful
China and other lands, he goes on to
say—as if taught the apperception doc
trine by Herbart himself—that “ a mere
utterance of something unintelligible to
the hearer is waste of time........ Under
standing of such a message comes slowly.
....... Christianity cannot do as much for
the first hearers of its message as it can
for the next generation.”2
The main object of the present work
is to divert this solicitude, and the apper
ception doctrine which Dr. Clarke ex
pounds in untechnical language, to the
heathen population of another land than
China. It is time that England and
education should have a chance. That
chance England will have when educa
1 Dr. Clarke, in A Sttidy of Christian
Missions.
z Ibid.
tion becomes a missionary profession.
If the inspiring creations of English
literature are not too good for Asiatic
colleges and students, they are not too
good for the British artisan or labourer,
who, in many of our districts, is at a
stage of development no better than the
Chinese. If zeal and devotion sanctify
evangelisation failures in China and India,
zeal and devotion—nay, the spirit of true
educational science too—may sanctify
scholastic successes at home. Once this
standpoint is reached by a few hundred
of the teachers of Britain, we may expect
that Dorpfelds will arise here, as in
Germany, willing to become and remain
primary teachers though other callings
may allure by gold or renown ; and that
more Edward Bowens will arise, choos
ing rather to be assistant masters for a
lifetime than to become educational
nonentities by treading the primrose path
to—“ promotion.”1
Yes, a “ revival,” as Mr. Campbell
urged, may be coming. But, unless it
is a revival springing from deep views
and wide thought, it will leave as little
permanent effect behind it as the wind
that ruffles a field of corn. Mr. Sheldon’s
books may sell by thousands, but Eng
land remains, in the long run, unchanged;
paroxysms may come and go, but man
will never be thus regenerated, though
their intensity reach the heat of fever.
Such, at least, is the belief of the Herbartians, who steadily discount the value
of unreasoning emotion as a character
forming agency. It might appear at
first, Herbart tells us, that such an
agency was a powerful one, though
1 The writer believes it to be the case that His
Majesty’s Inspectors are practically debarred
from taking up educational problems in any
earnest way.
�THE SECRET OF HERBART
inoperative upon the circle of thought.
“But it will appear quite otherwise if
we interrogate experience. At least,
whoever has noticed into what an abyss
of pain and misfortune a human being
may fall, yes, even remain in for long
periods, and yet, after the time of trouble
has passed, rise up again, apparently
almost unchanged, with the same aims
and opinions, even the same manner—
whoever, we say, has noticed this will
hardly expect much from swaying of the
feelings........ How temporary is the whole
reaction which follows the action.”
Rightly or wrongly, the Herbartians be
lieve that the idea is ultimately of more
potency than the feeling; or, rather,
that a unified mass of ideas is of
more potency than anything that is
narrow and intense. They have faith
that such ideas as have penetrated into
the inner sanctuaries of the soul may,
sooner or later, re-emerge as appercep
tive interest; that from the seed thus
sown will spring a greater harvest than
any hothouse can yield; that there are
richer possibilities here than yonder.
Does an intense emotion, not rooted in
a mass of ideas, make a man better?
Do the raptures of the devotee brace
him for the battle of life ? Has he been
the man to see most clearly the moral
problems of the age—the woes of the
artisan, the temptations of the drunkard,
the horrors of war ? Notoriously he has
not. “Great moral energy is the result
of broad views, and of whole, unbroken
masses of thought.” The truth is that
many a man and many a woman who
claims to be exalted at times into the
tenth or the hundredth heaven is often
appallingly obtuse to the moral problems
and duties around. The most delicate
analyses of moral duty—the keenest
sensitiveness to moral distinctions—are
61
not uncommonly found in connection
with men who have no visions or raptures
to diversify the even tenor of their way.
From the point of view of moral truth
and moral progress, the idea is a hundred
times as important as the emotion.
The time may come when all pretence
—and it is a pretence — of teaching
“ religion ” to babes and sucklings may
be abandoned by the schools of England.
The time may even come when the Bible
itself—which has rarely yet in the primary
school been taught intelligently or in
accordance with psychological laws—
may be excluded, and when primary
education will be in name, as it has
always substantially been in reality,
“secular.” The moral possibilities of
the school will not then be exhausted ;
on the contrary, the removal of hoary
delusions may be the beginning of a
portentous vitalisation. A new thing
may come forward to take the place, in
primary schools, of the excluded “ reli
gion,” for the programme sketched in the
preceding pages is one sufficiently great
and sufficiently attainable to attract all
men—and women—who face realities
dauntlessly, and determine to dream of
none but possible millenniums.
Yes, women; for to women will fall
much of the work of vitalising education.
Every year as it passes increases their
relative importance in this divine work
and this imperial profession.
They
realise better than men the possibilities
of the situation; they feel a keener
interest in it; their culture is often
greater and their intolerance less. Edu
cation, moreover, is almost the only
profession in which some honour and
distinction await them.
Three tasks—each of immense moral
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THE SECRET OF HERBART
significance — education can essay to
perform. It can prevent or check the
formation of bad habit; this at present it
does not adequately do. It can give moral
instruction, arraying in its service histo
rical and biblical examples, and pointing
to their moral import; this at present it
does imperfectly. Lastly, it can seek to
arouse many-sided interest—interest at
the very least; conscious that the arousal
of this means the slow atrophy and death
of what is base. This it scarcely does
at all.
For the second and third tasks the
conferring of a wealth of organised ideas
is an essential requisite. Without this
wealth there can be but feeble apper
ception ; and the absence of free and
vigorous apperception means impenetra
bility, even to religious appeal. The
ideas within are too few or too feeble to
co-operate with those presenting them
selves from without. We rightly say that
the man is “stupid.” And “the stupid
man cannot be virtuous.”
tum.
“Here and there some small
omission may be supplied; but an all
round human development, missed and
neglected in boyhood, can never be
recovered.”1
This standpoint is the only one that
will ever make education honoured
among the professions; the only one
that will ever make it a profession worth
our study and our devotion. The only
standpoint—except, perhaps, one other
—that can give any unity of motive to
educational effort. What is that other?
Some day—millions of years, let us
hope, from now—the life of this old earth
may begin to ebb away, and the chill of
the coming ages settle upon her. Man,
or man’s modified descendants, may
enter upon the final and most desperate
stage of the struggle for existence.
Unless Divinity interpose His fiat, or
human prevision and speculation be here
deceiving us, every faculty, ideal, and
system may disappear that does not help
in this last contest. Then may vanish
You may go into the streets of your the ideal of a humanistic education.
cities or the lanes of your villages, you Survival, rather than character, may
may seek to elevate the vicious and rouse become the goal of the struggling units
the lethargic. You will fail, save in one that will watch the slow extinction of the
case (much trumpeted) out of ten. You world’s life.
may wring your hands and bewail the
power of “ sin.” But you will be wiser if
But even for the geologist the world is
you take the sinner’s child and begin to still young; man still has moral possi
create in its mind—using every one of bilities before him. An education that
the educational instruments which the makes for character is the only one for
past has ignored, but the wiser future will us, though room may be found—is being
not ignore—a rich circle of thought. found by all enlightened educationists—
Without this apperception will fail; with for the legitimate claims of individuality
out this there can be little or no interest; and practical life. Yet an education
without this there can be no assured that makes for mere material survival, a
safety. The parent is impenetrable. utilitarian education, would fain insinuate
No earthly power can save him. His
“ apperception masses ” have no momen
1 Frobel, in the Education of Man.
�THE SECRET OF HERBART
63
better,” and if “ he who should find out
one rule to assist us in this work would
deserve infinitely better of mankind
than all the improvers of other know
ledge put together ”x then this high
praise is his who, in 1806, first pro
claimed the central significance of In
terest. And though just one hundred
years have lapsed since then, the law
that links Interest with Apperception still
remains so generally unrecognised or
unknown as to merit the designation,
If education is “ the science of im “ The Secret ” of Herbart.
proving the temper and making the heart
itself, even now, into the body-politic.
Teachers should beware of it. Not that
way lies any possibility of progress. So
corpselike an apparition coming before
time from the grave of the world should
have no attractions for us. Let us turn
from the chill and the darkness of the
charnel-house to the light that shines
out steadily, though here and there
flecked with solemn bars and shadows,
from the pages of Herbart.
1 Bishop Butler’s words, quoted in the Education Code of 1906.
�APPENDICES
I.—The Primary Curriculum.
The weakest point in our educational
system has perhaps been adequately
discussed—or at any rate indicated—in
the preceding essay. But there are other
weak points, far more than can here be
dealt with ; these weaknesses, however,
are of a different kind from the one
which Herbartianism can remedy. To
mention them is to deal with questions
other than the “ Secret of Herbart.”
For, be it observed, though Herbar
tianism cannot be seriously charged with
the neglect of any important school
subject (Herbart himself was much inte
rested in the teaching of mathematics,
and modern Herbartians are writing and
thinking upon every subject in the cur
riculum), yet its distinctive message is
concerned with the“knowledge subjects.”
How to feed the soul with rich and suit
able food, so that mental health may
become moral health—this is the thing
that Herbartianism can teach us well;
the other task, how to exercise the wellfed soul, though not a task ignored by
the Herbartians (witness their doctrine
of the “formal steps,” their interest in
mathematics, and so on) is a task which
others can teach us also.
Professor Welton, a year or two ago,
spoke of a “Synthesis of Herbart and
Frobel.” Synthesis is indeed required,
and the following supplementary remarks
will perhaps serve to indicate how we
should treat our finally synthesised cur
riculum. Education is more than ap
perception, just as health is more than
assimilation.
For health, indeed, we require not
only food, but shelter and exercise.
Shelter is clearly a more external thing
than food and exercise—a necessary
thing, and yet not a thing that enters
vitally and operatively into man’s nature.
We may, perhaps, parallel with it, in our
educational discussion, the art of Writing
—a necessary art, and yet not one in which
we can see much further significance.
Far more important are those arts and
pursuits which provide genuine exercise
for the soul.
In almost all English books on school
management, subjects follow each other
in no scientific order whatever. A teacher,
asked point-blank what are the most
valuable subjects of all, will either hesitate
in sheer helplessness (the question having
never occurred to him), or, as pointed
out in the preceding essay, will answer
at once, using the words of the man
in the street, “ The three R’s.” To
any Herbartian such an answer falls
like the death-knell of educational pro
gress ; the reason has been seen, and
will become clearer in a moment.
There is no need more pressing than
that we should discover the relative
importance and the relative function of
the various subjects of the curriculum.
Since the time of Pestalozzi educationists
have devoted much attention to the
department of methodology — how to
teach ; Dorpfeld, the greatest and wisest
of Herbart’s followers, was one of the few
who contributed to a more neglected
department, the theory of the curriculum
—what to teach. There are, he tells us,
two groups of subjects in addition to the
one great and priceless group that feeds
the human soul. The second includes
those practical dexterities which every
one admits must be taught4~speaking,
�65
APPENDICES
reading, writing; while the third group
includes formal studies like arithmetic
and grammar.
There is, of course, no absolute line
of demarcation between the second and
the third groups, nor, indeed, between
these and the first. Even the “passive”
assimilation of food involves digestive
activity.
Writing and drawing are
“ formal ” in one sense, giving training
in proportion, symmetry, and so forth;
in another sense they are dexterities,
•allowing the motor energy of the nervecentres to find vent. However, the
distinction between the second and third
groups is far less definite than between
them and the first. Broadly, we may
say that the first group feeds the mind,
while the second and third groups pro
vide exercise either for the mind or for
the members.
Test the “ Three R’s ” by this classifi
cation. Reading and writing, as such,
are mechanical dexterities, doing nothing
whatever to build up the “ circle of
thought.”
Arithmetic is a “ formal
study,” and this again does little or
nothing to build up the circle of thought,
though it may bring an element of pre
cision into that circle. Not one of the
“ Three R’s,” as such, aids apperception ;
not one of the Three R’s, as such, feeds the
soul; not one of the Three R’s, as such,
makes man morally sensitive or morally
progressive.
For these reasons, therefore, Dorpfeld,
and indeed all Herbartians, place the
centre of gravity elsewhere than among
the “ Three R’s.” John Morley, many
years ago, hinted at the same need when
he spoke of “those extra subjects which
are, in truth, the part of instruction that
gives most life and significance to the
rest.”1
And yet an intelligent teaching of the
“Three R’s” is immensely important.
Consider the first and greatest-—Reading.
If by this were meant a love of good
books, a taste for good books, an interest
in reading good books, then, certainly, the
1 National Education.
subject would be of incalculable value,
even, or especially, in the eyes of the
Herbartians; for out of such a love, such
a taste, such an interest, may come all
those things for which the Herbartians
contend. Reading, in this sense, would
supply the soul with the very food which
is a prerequisite for apperception, inte
rest, virtue, and moral progress. As a
rule, however, teachers, officials, and
documents mean something else _ than
this when they speak of “Reading”;
they mean correctness, fluency,. ability,
and vigour of utterance. In this sense
it is a dexterity, and is so classed by
Dorpfeld.
Let us now ask whether our primary
schools—once the strongholds of the
“Three R’s”—have succeeded in teach
ing reading in either of these senses. The
answer must be an emphatic “ No.” The
average pupil who leaves our schools has
neither a taste for reading—that taste
which, in the opinion of Lord Avebury,
would destroy most of the “pauperism,
extravagance, drunkenness, and crime ”
which exist in modern England—nor
has he the power of reading aloud with
correctness and force. This, at any rate,
is the result of the writer’s observation
in a country district; if the verdict is too
unfavourable, he can only rejoice in the
fact.
The first count of this indictment is,
however, confessedly justified; the second
is justified to at least an appalling extent.
Country schools, each controlled by a
head teacher who may or may not love
books and speak good English himself;
this teacher assisted by two or more
pupil teachers who may care nothing
for books, and may speak and teach to
their pupils—or mumble to them—the
worst provincialisms of their grandparents
—it is in such schools that we “teach
reading” to the triumphant democracy
of England.
Fortunately, the better training of
these young “ teachers ” is being taken
up in earnest. One of their greatest
needs (they have been, in many cases,
cut off from all educated people, cut off
D
�66
APPENDICES
from literary societies, even from libraries
and reading circles; for such are, as
often as not, wholly absent from our
country towns)—one of their greatest
needs is to be drilled by educated men
and women into the correct and dramatic
rendering of the English language. Few
people seem to realise what an immensity
of practice—practice in public—is neces
sary to make a good reader or speaker.
The new pupil-teacher centres will have
to devote not merely one hour a week,
but many hours a week, to this task.1
The lesson need not be called “reading”
in every case : it may be “ English ” or
“ history,” or what one chooses; but the
person in charge must insist daily and
hourly upon correct phonetic pronuncia
tion, and upon dramatic delivery—exag
gerating, if need be, this latter point.
Many of us have never been “ taught to
read ” at all, and cannot read even now.
Our young teachers “find Shakespeare
dull.” The reason is that there is scarcely
one adult out of a thousand who is
possessed of the requisite imagination
and the requisite freedom of utterance to
interpret and enunciate the poet’s work.
The Englishman, even when capable of
reading correctly, can rarely read forcibly.
He labours, in fact, under a triple defect:
self-consciousness, which prohibits him
or discourages him from giving expres
sion to the emotions of the piece he is
reading; sluggish imagination, which
prevents him from seeing what those
emotions are; and an enunciation which
is probably worse than that of any other
nation of Europe. It is no wonder that
“Shakespeare is dull.”
Great, then, must be the failure of the
primary schools if, though regarding the
“ Three R’s ” as their chief work, they
fail to teach even the most important of
the three.
The second of the “ Three R’s ” is
writing, and here little need be said.
The primary schools teach it fairly well
1 In the regulations for the King’s Scholarship
Examination this question has at last been taken
up in earnest. To fail in reading is to fail in
the whole examination.
and would teach it still better if they
could finally make up their minds as to
the best style. An official edict settling
the angle of slope and similar matters
would do, perhaps, but little harm and
a great deal of good in this region. The
subject is a humdrum one, with scarcely
any significance of its own. “ Were it
not that writing and reading are neces
sary as instruments....... we should not
think of wasting time over them.”1
Still, there is no reason why we should
not teach the subject better than we do.
Schools should be specially on guard
against allowing the writing to degenerate
as a result of copious “note-taking” in
upper classes. Notes on science, history,
and the rest, should be entered in good
though not laborious style; just as the
reading of science, history, and the rest,
should be articulate and phonetically
correct. The talk about a “ crowded
curriculum ” would have little or no
justification whatever if teachers would
correlate their subjects better ; not artifi
cially separating history from geography ;2
science, etc., from composition f the
learning of facts from their correct ex
pression by voice; and so on. With
regard to writing, though care should be
insisted on, we need not worship too
exclusively the goddess of neatness. A
good practical style is all that is required.
The third of the “ Three R’s ” is
arithmetic. No Herbartian will despise
arithmetic ; he sees in it one of the few
1 Prof. Laurie, in Institutes of Education.
2 I have known repeatedly of teachers teaching
about King Alfred without a map, Isaiah without
a map, etc.
3 A boy may be marked “very good” for a
“composition” paper; turn to his science
notes, history notes, etc., and his “ composition ”
is atrocious. Too few of us realise that speaking
and composition, as “ efferent ” subjects, should
be closely connected with “ afferent” or know
ledge subjects like history, geography, science.
The knowledge “ received” has to be given out
again. It is a question whether in the upper
classes “ composition ” need be retained at all
as a special subject. During the years from eight
to twelve mechanical and technical difficulties
should have been conquered. Then will come
two years—precious yeai s—when the school can
win conquests of another kind.
�APPENDICES
“gymnastic” subjects suitable for the
primary curriculum ; and though, in his
view, it is even more vitally important to
feed the soul than to exercise it, the
latter is really quite indispensable. [If in
this book they are distinguished too
sharply, that is only from necessity, or
policy.] Judge, then, of his disappoint
ment when he discovers that arithmetic
has been mainly taught as a mechanical
dexterity (Dorpfeld’s second group); as
a body of maxims, not a system of prin
ciples ; as a subject which, instead of
being used for the purpose it is so pre
eminently fitted to perform, that of
training thought, has only given oppor
tunity for the application of rules of
thumb. This, of course, is the direct
and predicted result of the plan of
1861.
Between them, Pestalozzi and Frobel
have reformed the teaching of arithmetic
in the infant school. Concrete numbers
are now invariably used in the early
lessons. One form of the concrete,
indeed, is daily receiving—and rightly—
an increased amount of attention ; pupils
are being practised in making measure
ments with ruler, balance, and the like,
and using these measurements for pur
poses of calculation. Such practice in
the concrete will prove the salvation of
mathematics in the evening school; and
it is time for the primary day school to
give practice of the same kind. But,
apart from this very necessary and pro
mising reform, the chief need of the
primary school, so far as mathematics is
concerned, appears to be increased stress
on the abstract principles of arithmetic.
We can then safely drop two-thirds of
the “ rules ” which loom so large in
the “upper standards”—bills of parcels,
percentages, stocks, etc. ; in view of the
“ coming of the kilogram ” we can also
safely drop some of the “weights and
measures,” which devour time and teach
nothing.
Such trivialities as these will take care
of themselves if our pupils understand
the properties of numbers. Most of us
never learnt that, “if equals be taken
&l
from equals, the remainders are equal,”
until we began the study of Euclid, or of
simple equations ; in reality, such a prin
ciple is as important in arithmetic as. in
the other branches of mathematics.
Decimals, fractions, factors, proportion—
possibly, too, in upper classes, squaring,
etc., and the reverse processes (tables of
logarithms, even if not fully understood,
could surely be made use of)—if our
pupils have sound views on these ques
tions, and know, in addition, the axioms
which lie at the basis of arithmetical
work, and have plenty of practice in
the mensuration of the kind mentioned
above, we need no longer reproach the
primary school for its failure with regard to
this subject. If there is room for any
further subject, “simple equations” should
be given the chance; they are far easier
than much of the ordinary “arithme
tic,” arouse a good deal of zest, and
increase immensely a pupil’s resources.
The rigid line of demarcation between
arithmetic and algebra will disappear as
soon as officials and teachers will permit
the disappearance.
A word or two upon another “ formal ”
subject which, after being the bane of
the primary schools of England for a
good many years, is likely to be so no
longer. Anyone desirous of exposing
what is well-nigh the maddest phase in
English educational history would do well
to study the teaching of English gram
mar in the nineteenth century. Of course
the most gigantic error of all—an error
whose moral results for the English
nation have been inexpressibly disas
trous—was the neglect of literature;
Shakespeare has been known mainly as
a corpus vile for pupils to dissect gram
matically ; while most poets and writers
have not been honoured even to this
extent. But, apart from this neglect,
the teaching of English has taken the
strangest of courses. One might almost
say that a favourite relaxation of many
men, ambitious of literary distinction,
has been to write a grammar-book in
which could be found the maximum
I possible number of errors; those that
�68
APPENDICES
had been handed down by previous
writers, together with a few invented by
each fresh author. At the present
moment there are some books in exten
sive use full of the most grotesque and
misleading doctrines. These doctrines,
imbibed by hundreds of pupil teachers,
who, knowing nothing of Latin or any
other language than their own, cannot
detect the errors involved, are handed
down to their pupils, who, in their turn,
frequently become pupil teachers, and
thus transmit, further, the legacy of ab
surdity. Beyond the splendid books of
the late Mr. Mason, there was, until
recently, scarcely any work on this sub
ject that could be relied upon. The
subject as taught in many schools is
essentially dishonest.
Pupils learn
phrases about “governing the objec
tivecase” or “ agreeing with the nomi
native ” without really understanding
them. The writer, at any rate, never
understood them until he learnt some
thing of another language than his
own. The worst of it is that both
“rules,” when applied to English nouns,
are practically false.
The following are some of the doc
trines probably taught, explicitly or im
plicitly, at this moment, in many of our
primary schools :—
That intransitive verbs are of the
active voice.
That verbs in the passive voice are
intransitive.
That indirect objects are as plentiful
as blackberries in autumn.
That “if” is the sign of the subjunc
tive mood.
That “and’’and “but” are the only
two conjunctions.
That there is a rigid distinction between
the parts of speech : thus, a noun cannot
be also a verb, a verb an adjective, or
a conjunction an adverb; that an adverb
cannot “ modify ” a preposition, or (des
pite the Athanasian Creed) a noun.
While the teaching of English compo
sition involves the giving of such rules
as—
Never begin a sentence with “and.”
Always use short words and sentences;1
and the reading of poetry (to mention
a kindred subject) has to involve the
suppression of all rhythm in the interests
of “ preventing singing.”
If other needs had been adequately
supplied, there might have been a place
in our curriculum for “grammar”; but,
as things stand, the subject had better
be banished from the primary school, or,
at the most, be represented by quite
incidental teaching in connection with
our literature lessons. It is the teaching
of literature and kindred subjects—in
other words, it is the reading lesson
interpreted broadly — upon which we
should concentrate our attention. The
chief problems in connection with this
humanistic study are (i) correlation of
its parts, (2) the use of high-class and
first-hand materials. In both respects
our schools are almost criminally con
servative. The writer has never known,
for example, of Wordsworth’s sonnets
being correlated with the history of the
Napoleonic Wars. No text-book seems
ever to have proposed it, no teacher to
have thought of it. The lack of corre
lation in Biblical teaching is ludicrous,
and has been dealt with in the writer’s
Reform of Moral and Biblical Education.
“ Composition ” is, of course, necessary
and valuable, and can be easily taught in
connection with other things. It should
be more oral than at present, and
might thus substantially contribute to
the improved enunciation already advo
cated in connection with reading.
Singing.—The only suggestion here
proffered by the writer is that in the
singing lessons some further attempt at
teaching the great national and classic
songs of England should be made than
has hitherto been the case. The average
Englishman is wholly unable to sing or
even to recite the verses of “Rule, Bri
tannia,” and his musical tastes are so
1 Mr. Wells’s protest is timely (Mankind in the
Making). Clever pupil teachers have, to the
knowledge of the writer, been criticised by their
“correspondence tutor” for using a fairly rich
vocabulary.
�69
APPENDICES
unspeakably low (this is shown by the
music-hall songs prepared for his edifica
tion) as to testify to the partial failure
of the primary school in this domain.
Connected, as the Herbartians recom
mend, with the literature and history
taught in the school, singing ought to
become one of the best auxiliaries to
the sweetening of the national life of
England.
Art and similar subjects.—In this
important department of educational
work there is much to learn, mainly,
perhaps, from the Frobelians.. Clay
modelling, brush work, as well as the
more usual kinds of artistic activity, are
winning much favour, and seem, indeed,
a necessary supplement to the intellec
tualism and the bookishness into which,
without them, we might be landed. But
the author does not profess to give advice
or offer criticism where (as here) he feels
incompetent to do so, and will but
suggest that the artistic subjects be cor
related, as far as possible, with the rest
of the curriculum, so that pupils may use
their constructive powers upon materials
they understand. Art for art’s sake is no
motto for primary schools.
II.—“ Teachers do not Read Books
on Education ” (p. 18).
Some reasons for this are given in the
text; one of them may here be empha
sised. Absolute chaos rules in the edu
cational world, the most diverse and
opposite opinions being gravely put
forward year by year; hence such
teachers as would, in normal circum
stances, be interested in books on edu
cation regard them with utter scepticism
and distrust. Thring’s works are full
of brilliance; but there is much doubt
whether anyone is able to extract more
than about three unmistakable and un
ambiguous maxims from them. Spencer’s
Education consists of two useful chapters
and two dubious ones. From Matthew
Arnold’s various books an industrious
teacher would be able to extract a fairly
comprehensive system of educational
philosophy; but—there is the “ extrac
tion ” to do first. Bain’s book is some
what dull, and, belonging as he did to
the same school of thought as Spencer,
he has Spencer’s defects.
All things considered, Dr. Laurie has
probably come nearer than any other
British author to putting forth a com
prehensive system of educational philo
sophy. On all essential matters of
practice he agrees with Herbart, as the
present writer showed in School, 1904 ;
and the agreement is the more striking
as Dr. Laurie objects emphatically to
Herbart’s psychology. But there is just
the lack in Dr. Laurie of what distin
guishes Herbart—-the power to formulate
his philosophy in a way so categorical
and lucid (with the interest doctrine
shown in its relations on the one side to
instruction, and on the other to character)
that the student finds his educational
work flooded with a new meaning.
Herbart’s dicta ring in our ears; Dr.
Laurie’s do not.
In the present note the writer would
like to add Dr. Laurie’s confirmatory
words with respect to the reading of
educational literature. Speaking of the
secondary teacher, he says : “ My answer
is, he does not read. A return of the
books on education, not looked into, but
carefully read, by the masters of public
schools, would surprise........ Ask the
publishers of books on education how
many sell among the 50,000 teachers of
England.”1
____
III.—Herbart and Frobel
(pp. 40, 42).
There is an impression abroad in certain
circles that Herbart and Frobel are at
opposite educational poles. This is far
from being the case.
Herbart is certainly clearer and more
systematic than Frobel. At the sound
of his formulae, education appears before
us clothed and in its right mind.
Teachers discover the meaning of their
1 The Training of Teachers.
�7°
APPENDICES
work. Old rivalries between “ formal ”
studies and “ real ” studies, between
“secular” subjects and “sacred” sub
jects, between an “intensive” and an
“extensive” curriculum, lose most of
their virulence, and the babel of dis
tracting war-cries suddenly dies down to
a murmur. Probably no other educa
tionist possesses anything like Herbart’s
power of revealing the meaning and
scope of education, and of placing its
various problems in a true and illuminat
ing relationship. He opens his PEsthetische Darstellung der Welt with a clear,
almost dogmatic, definition of the “aim”
of education / and, when he proceeds
to write his Allgemeine Pädagogik, he
“deduces” it from that “ aim.”1
2
Fröbel has none of this clearness and
precision, but possesses in its stead an
almost infallible “ feeling ” for what the
child is and needs at each stage of its
existence.
Apart from this, there is mainly a
difference of stress between the two
writers.
Herbart sees clearly enough that the
teacher’s work of “instruction” — of
giving or presenting new ideas in a suit
ably arranged order—is one of immense
formative importance. Facts, informa
tion, ideas, knowledge—these are not
comparatively negligible factors, as many
amateur “ reformers ” of education would
have us believe. They are not negligible
—-they are vitally important, for, as shown
in the Secret of Herbart, they become
built up into “apperception masses,”
which, in the process of taking in more
facts, information, ideas, knowledge, give
rise to “ apperceptive interest,” this latter
being itself of first importance in the
character-forming process. What Milton
said of books may, on the Herbartian
principle, be also said of ideas : they are
“ not absolutely dead things, but do con
tain a progeny of life in them.” What
was passively, or almost passively, taken
in may become a spring that gives out
freely; the afferent becomes the efferent;
“facts ” become “faculty.”
“Instruction,” then, is important in Her
bart’s view because it adds to the apper
ceptive resources of the child, and thus
enhances the possibilities of many-sided
interest. Now, interest is a moral force
of the highest value, even if it extends
only to the realm of physical nature, for
it is an enemy to that great multitude of
vices that spring from idleness of mind or
body. If interest should extend also—
as Herbart in his sixfold classification
demanded—-to the realm of human
nature (the realm of moral ideas), it is
not only an enemy to the aforesaid vices,
but to the other multitude that spring
from sheer impenetrability and callous
ness of mind.
But Frobel might ask, in the common
jargon of the hour, “ Where do I come
in?”
Herbart shows how the germs of a rich
harvest of interest may be implanted or
sown in the soul. But lo ! some germs
are present at birth—already implanted
by a nature or a providence that, here at
least, may fairly be called “ benevolent.”
The child, as the Frobelians show, comes
to us already equipped with a score of
latent or rudimentary interests that need
nothing but stimulus to launch them
forth on their career of blessed activity.
The powder is laid; the spark alone is
wanting. That spark the watchful parent
or teacher can readily supply.
Nature and nurture, the innate and
the acquired, have been the two decisive
factors in the education of every human
being. Herbart stresses the second
factor, though without ignoring the first.
He says, though in other words : “ We,
acting from without; we, providing the
child with ideas, can actually build up
the soul of the child.” Frobel says :
“Yes, but each child has innate and
1 “The one and the whole work of education predestined interests, fondnesses, and
may be summed up in the concept—morality.”
aptitudes; let us use them.” Evolution
2 Allgemeine Pädagogik aus dem Zweck der
Erziehung Abgeleitet—“General Pedagogy De reconciles thetwostandpoints completely.
Herbartian interests are acquired in
duced from the Aim of Education.”
�71
appendices
the child’s lifetime; Frobelian inte of the four boys—in the ideas that have
rests were acquired by the race, and been raining upon them for years. Simi
Conduct a party
are now handed down to the child by larly with adults.
heredity.1 Is there anything fantastic through an historical building, or a
in speculating whether the passion for waxwork show, and one will learn that
making mud pies and sand castles is not interest largely depends on apperception
a relic of early ancestral experiences? masses, and not merely —- sometimes
The fascination of the Frobelian occupa scarcely at all—on native endowments
tions (plaiting, etc.) suggests such prob of a special character.
Professor James’s remarks on interest
lems irresistibly.
and apperception are mainly Herbartian
Frobel says, in effect: “ Do not let
us waste the rich treasure of human in tone, though not to the neglect of the
faculty with which each of us is endowed Frobelian factor. “ An adult man’s in
at birth.” Herbart says, in effect: “ Do terests are almost every one of them in
not let us waste the opportunities of tensely artificial; they have slowly been
built up.” “An idea will infect another
adding to this treasure.”
It would be no hard task, however, to with its own emotional interest when
show that Herbart recognised the value they have become associated together
of occupational work such as that stressed into any sort of a mental total. As there
by the Frobelians. He recommends the is no limit to the various associations
giving of “freer scope for children’s into which an interesting idea may enter,
activity........ Pleasant and harmless occu one sees in how many ways an interest
pations....... provide an outlet for restless may be derived.” “If you wish to
insure the interest of your pupils, there
ness which cannot be pent up.”
Can “faculty” be created I Perhaps is only one way to do it, and that is to
this is the place to discuss Professor make certain that they have something
Adams’s statement, that “ Herbartianism in their minds to attend with. That
cannot create faculty, but it gives the something can consist in nothing but a
previous lot of ideas.” “Our profes
best means of utilising faculty.”
It would be folly to dispute over the use sional ideals and the zeal they inspire
of the term “ create ” in this connection, are due to nothing but the slow accretion
and no doubt “faculty” cannot be created of one mental object to another, traceable
in any absolute sense. We cannot confer backward from point to point till we reach
a “ faculty ” of imagination or of reflection the moment when, in the nursery or in
upon a stone or a tree—there must be a the schoolroom, some little story told,
latent or potential something from the some little object shown, some little
first. But, with this qualification, Her- operation witnessed, brought the first
bartians have a perfect right to say that new object and new interest within our
“ faculty can be created,”if by “faculty” ken by associating it with some one of
we mean all the various possibilities and those primitively there. The interest
powers involved in apperception and now suffusing the whole system took its
interest. One boy has a passionate in rise in that little event, so insignificant
terest in football, another in books, a to us now as to be entirely forgotten.”1
____
third in cigarettes, a fourth in nothing.
These differences need not necessarily IV.—The Faculty Doctrine (p. 40).
be the result of initial differences of
Hobbes, Leibnitz, Condillac, Hegel, and
mind or body ; they may be the result
of differences in the mental atmosphere many other thinkers, have attacked the
doctrine which divides up the mind into
a number of more or less independent
1 This assumes that acquired characters are
transmitted. If that assumption is false, the
above would have to be stated in other terms.
1 Talks with Teachers.
�TV
APPENDICES
faculties (imagination, memory, reason to see merely ignorance or enlighten
ing, etc.). Spinoza, in his bold state ment. In other words, the influence of
ment that “will and intellect are one culture on character is under-estimated,
and the same,” and Herbart, in his owing to the artificial separation of will
emphatic assertion that “the will is rooted from intelligence.
in the circle of thought,” are perhaps
I.
the most pronounced opponents of this
faculty doctrine.
With regard to the first effect of the
It is true that brain research has re faculty doctrine
vealed the existence of certain cerebral
Certain subjects and lessons and
localities devoted to special functions ; methods are supposed to help the
but the latter are motor or sensory, and “ faculty ” of observation ; others the
do not correspond to the supposed “ faculty ” of memory; others the
“ faculties ” of the phrenologists and “ faculty ” of will. At one moment too
older psychologists. The modern ten much value is attributed to “ informa
dency is to lay stress on the unity of the tion ” (when the memory faculty is being
cultivated); at the next moment infor
mind rather than on its multiplicity.
Apart from these speculations, there mation is undervalued as not helping
are three very practical reasons for hold the will in its solitary struggles. Almost
every educational fallacy-—such as the
ing the faculty doctrine in suspicion.
First, it leads educationally to such notorious “Virtue cannot be taught”—
dislocation of the curriculum, with con is traceable to this faulty psychology of
sequent inefficiency and waste of time, faculties. Teachers too often despise
that almost all educationists are agreed “ theory ”; it would be no exaggeration
in regarding it as practically “pestilent.”1 to say that a wrong theory of the mind
Second, it leads to exaggerated stress has done far more harm to education
on “hard pedagogy”—that is, on de than low salaries, professional disrepute,
manding of children mental efforts of and sectarian quarrels.
School “ time-tables ” have had a good
too toilsome a character, on the ground
that such efforts are a good “ discipline ” deal to answer for. Used slavishly, they
for the mind. [Here comes in the lead to the same consequences as those
“fallacy of formal education,” which the of the faculty doctrine, for the same
Herbartians have repeatedly exposed.] fallacy is operative in the two cases. A
In other words, it leads to a deprecia teacher is forbidden by H.M. Inspector
tion of “interest” and “involuntary2 to deal with the subject-matter of a read
(spontaneous) attention ” in favour of ing lesson during the lesson itself, even
“ effort ” and “ voluntary2 (dogged) atten a map being banned though a “ geo
graphy reader ” is being used. “ Reading
tion.”
Third, it is a fruitful source of uncharit is reading.” Thus an artificial separation
able, or at any rate erroneous, judgments is effected between the reception of ideas
upon conduct. Its exaltation of will or (or the comprehension of a subject) and
of free will as a faculty almost inde expression in words. This is perfectly
pendent of intellectual and other con ruinous; reading becomes a “dull”
ditions, and “driving itself through them ” lesson just because we, in our ignorance
(as Dr. Laurie says), tends to make us of educational psychology, will insist on
see devilry or saintship where we ought an artificial divorce of things that should
be kept in natural relationship. Con
1 Miss Mason’s word, in Home Education.
versely, during a geography lesson a
* The words “ involuntary and “volun child answers some question in a slip
tary,” though generally used by English writers shod fashion {eg., “ There ain’t no rivers
on Herbartianisnr, are very misleading. The
words in parentheses may help to prevent mis there ”); the teacher refuses to insist
take.
I on a grammatical or clearly expressed
�APPENDICES
answer because now is the time for geo
graphy, not grammar or composition.
Time-tables have their place; but
when they result in things of this kind
they are pernicious to a high degree.
II.
73
dangerous all this is ! No teacher, short
of positive genius, can help being led
astray.
It is commonly asserted that Herbartianism tends to ignore the bracing effect
of hard mental effort, and thus weakens
the character of children. If it does do
so, the fact is deplorable; but Herbart
never intended or prescribed anything
that would have this effect. One writer,
indeed, says that he “ made a much
larger use of compulsion, both in forcing
attention to study and in controlling the
conduct, than Frobel.”1 “The theory
of interest,” as Professor Adams says,
“ does not propose to banish drudgery,
but only to make drudgery tolerable by
giving it a meaning.” Herbart never
denied that hard, dogged effort was some
times called for ; but he saw more value
normally in the free, happy, “involun
tary” attention that springs from real
interest in a subject than in the “sheer
dead lift of the will ”2 resulting in
“voluntary attention.”3
To any person who brings to the
study of other educationists a certain
familiarity with Herbartian thought,
nothing is more striking than the wide
spread support rendered to Herbart by
many who do not avowedly call them
selves by his name. This is illustrated
by their treatment of the present ques
tion. No man in England has done
more to discourage the study of Herbart
than the late Rev. R. H. Quick, not by
positive depreciation, but by omitting
him from his widely-read book on Edu
cational Reformers. Yet this is how he
writes: “It is wonderful how insigni
ficant a part the will plays in the lives of
most of us. When we have no interests
to guide us, we fall into inanities.” His
whole treatment of the interest question,
of the value of “ involuntary ” (or spon
taneous) attention, and the comparatively
With regard to the second point:—
Except among Herbartian educa
tionists and a few others, there is an
excessive confidence in “ disciplinary ”
subjects. If a subject is hard, it is
supposed to arouse “effort,” make a
child “ self-reliant,” make him “ think,”
etc. If he is able to conquer one set of
difficulties, he is supposed to be able to
conquer every other set. The logical
consequence of this view is an exaggerated
devotion to mathematics, grammar (Latin,
Greek, French, English), and other sub
jects that demand great concentration
of mind; while subjects that confer new
ideas and feed the imagination and the
moral life are despised.
The Herbartians attack this view
because (i) they do not believe that
power over one subject necessarily gives
power over another, unless it is a subject
closely akin to the former. To make a boy
a good mathematician does not necessarily
make him capable of becoming a good
chess player or a good statesman. (2)
They see that there is immense moral
danger in depreciating the nutritive sub
jects, because of their close connection
with culture, apperception, interest, and
character.
A recent passage-of-arms neatly sums
up the two sides. “ A master’s business,”
said Mr. Benson in the Nineteenth Cen
tury, “is to see that there is mental
effort.” “ Not a bit of it,” replied Sir
Oliver Lodge; “ a master’s business is
to supply proper pabulum.”
The writer sees that in the recent
official report on Higher Elementary
Schools the committee record, with
1 Hughes, in FrobeVs Educational Laws.
apparent approval, that “it is the way
* De Garmo’s expression, in Interest and
you teach rather than what you teach Edtication.
that matters” — another form of the
3 Note again the misleading use of the words
“faculty doctrine.” How unspeakably “voluntary” and “involuntary.”
�74
APPENDICES
small rote played by “ voluntary ” (or
“ against-the-grain ”) attention, is Herbartian. “ Buffon has said that genius
is nothing but a power of taking pains,
and interests give this power. Certainly
the chief characteristics of a man are his
interests, and he is strong in proportion
to the strength of his interests, and wise
according to their directions. Interests
lead to all kinds of involuntary action.
But some people have an innate energy
prior to interest, and, though, of course,
taking its direction from interests, capable
of working without them.”1
Miss C. M. Mason has expressed some
very similar opinions with regard to the
will. “It is habit” (under which Miss
Mason includes intellectual habits of
apperception) “which will govern ninetynine hundredths of the child’s life. He
A the mere automaton you describe........
And then, even in emergencies, in every
sudden difficulty and temptation that
requires an act of will, why, conduct is
still apt to run on the lines of the
familiar habit.”2
III.
The third point stands in close rela
tion to the last, but deserves some
attention of its own.
It will be seen that the ultimate ques
tion of free will is left unsolved in
the text—unsolved and probably in
soluble. It would be unprofitable to
enter minutely into a hopeless discussion.
But the more obvious aspects of the
question must be emphasised.
Herbart would have had no sympathy
with the Rev. J. R. Illingworth’s refer
ences to the will. “When we have
traced an occurrence to the intervention
of the human will, we are at once con
tent. It is fully accounted for. We
know not merely how it began, but why,
and have therefore reached its absolute
beginning.” Such a standpoint would
be the ruin of all educational thought.
When we see two men separating at a
street corner, one to go to a library and
1 Quotations from the Life and Remains.
* Home Education.
the other to a public-house, it does not
satisfy the Herbartian to be told : “ The
human will explains everything. You
should be £at once content.’” Mr.
Illingworth’s treatment of motives (appar
ently, after all, the will is not “ fully
accounted for ” without motives!) is
equally unsatisfactory in Herbartian
eyes. “We can frame our own ideals
....... choose which of many suggested
motives we will make our own........ We
can initiate events of which our own will
is the veritable starting-point........ Our
will is an agent whose reason for action
is contained within itself.”1 Think of a
Hoxton child “ framing his own ideals.”
As if every, or almost every,2 “ideal”
that is his was not once borrowed from
his environment. Mr. Illingworth’s atti
tude illustrates what is meant on p. 32
by a “morally aristocratic principle.”
Contrast it with Herbart’s “All action
springs out of the circle of thought.”
“If....... intellectual interests are wanting,
if the store of thought be meagre, then
the ground lies empty for the animal
desires.” “ The whole inner activity has
its abode in the circle of thought. Here
is found the initiative life, the primal
energy........ In the culture of the circle
of thought the main part of education
lies........ The limits of the circle of
thought are the limits for the character.”
Reverting to the general question, the
writer is inclined to say that almost all
pedagogical errors have sprung from the
“faculty doctrine,” and that almost all
the protests of “educational reformers”
have been directed against one or other
of its forms. One or two examples,
chosen almost haphazard, will illustrate
this statement.
1 Divine Immanence.
2 A little hesitation here. There is a genera
tive power in ideas that makes the writer chary
of admitting fully that “no one can beget an
idea by himself” (Miss Mason). If we deprive
the will of primacy and originality, we must be
careful lest we leave the universe with a fixed
amount of psychical energy. Then there is
genius, too. But for educational purposes Miss
Mason’s dictum is important and valuable.
�APPENDICES
Mr. Morley is really protesting against
the faculty doctrine when he says :—
“ ‘ Few, I suppose, will deliberately
assert,’ Mr. Spencer says, ‘ that informa
tion is important and character unim
portant.’ But surely this antithesis is as
unreal as Dr. Magee’s opposition between
freedom and sobriety. The possession
of information is an element in char
acter.”1
Matthew Arnold was protesting against
the same doctrine when he spoke of
“Our notions about culture, about the
many sides of the human spirit, about
making these sides help one another
instead of remaining enemies and stran
gers.”1
23
“ We are called to develop ourselves
more in our totality, on our perceptive
and intelligential side as well as on our
moral side........ Hebraism strikes too ex
clusively upon one string in us. Hel
lenism does not address itself with serious
energy enough to morals and righteous
ness. For our totality, for our general
perfection, we need to unite the two.” 3
V.—The Moral Instruction League
(P- 5°)Far more quickly than the members of
this League ever expected, its aims have
received official approval. In the Edu
cation Code of 1906 moral instruction
is prescribed as an essential part of the
elementary curriculum, and a strong
preference is expressed for such instruc
tion to be direct and systematic, not
merely incidental.
The League is only a few years old.
From the first, its propaganda for the
introduction of moral and civic lessons
has been directed to the educational
bodies of this country; and the feeling
has been that as these, one after another,
fell into line, the solution of the “reli
gious controversy” would come appre
ciably nearer.
The first education authority to be
1 National Education.
* St. Pcm I and Protestantism.
3 Ibid.
75
influenced was that of Leicester. Mr. F. J.
Gould, whose books of moral lessons
are the most valuable of the kind that
have been written in English, visited
a number of Leicester schools, in order
to ascertain* how much “moral instruc
tion ” was given in connection with the
“Scripture lessons.” He found, of
course, that, while there were occasional
stray hints of a moral nature, most of
the lessons were purely historical, geo
graphical, or doctrinal. Even if it were
admitted that such lessons were inter
esting and valuable, it was clear that,
from the standpoint of instruction in the
practical duties of modern life, they were
a failure.
The same inference is to be drawn
from the fact that various educational
bodies have, at different times, added to
the curriculum lessons in temperance,
courtesy, kindness to animals, citizen
ship, and the like—a clear proof that
such moral duties are not taught ade
quately in the course of the Scripture
lessons.
One after another, and with a rapidity
that is in itself eloquent, various educa
tion authorities have adopted the pro
posals of the League, thus tacitly admit
ting that the present system of “ religious ■
instruction ” is inadequate for moral
purposes. At the present moment no
less than thirty-three bodies have taken
this course. The Surrey, Cheshire, West
Riding, and other authorities have
adopted the Graduated Syllabus of the
League almost without change. There
is reason to believe, however, that in the
present state of the curriculum, and with
teachers who have always been told that
morality and civics are the only subjects
that cannot be “ taught,” the work of the
organisation has only begun. It is one
thing to prescribe, a subject ; it is another
to see that it is taught well.
The Moral Instruction League may
become a Moral Education League ;
already it is directing its attention to
the general question of making the
whole work of the school significant
for character-forming. Meanwhile the
�76
APPENDICES
League has every reason to congratulate
itself upon having convinced the Board
of Education and so many educational
authorities that “ virtue can be taught,”
while most of our professors of educa
tion have been reiterating that it cannot.
This last phenomenon is puzzling.
Why should the men who have been
appointed to teach the most advanced
educational thought to student-teachers
have become convinced that “ virtue
cannot be taught,” and have left the work
of converting the nation to a small organi
sation whose average income is less than
the salary of an assistant master ? And
why, on almost every platform, should
an educationist who desires a reputation
for wisdom warn against “ tacking a
moral ” on to a story ? Who are the
creatures that are constantly “ moralis
ing ”? Are they elementary teachers ?
Are they secondary teachers ? The
present writer has heard or read these
warnings many times, but has never yet
known to whom they are addressed.
But he does say: “ Better a thousand
times to ‘tack on a moral’—clumsily,
even brutally—than to allow a child to
grow up with no moral instruction at all.
The moral does no harm to any child,
and may do good to many.”
No doubt our professors mean well.
They think that plenty of good fairy
tales, history, and literature will produce
a moral effect, even though no general
moral maxim, like “ You ought not to
be cruel to animals,” be employed to
sum up that effect. Very true. Apper
ception-material of a moral kind is good
in moral education, just as apperception
material in the form of class experiments
is good in teaching science. But why
on earth the general moral maxim should
be regarded as unsuitable for school,
while the general maxims of science {eg.,
that bodies weigh less in water than in
air) are admitted, passes the understand
ing of the present writer. And it must
be also remembered that by “moral
instruction ” is not meant merely a
system of maxims, but a system of illus
trations leading up to those maxims. In
fact, the method of moral instruction is
precisely the same as the method of all
synthetic instruction : “The teacher must
pass from concrete to abstract.” But it
is better to violate this principle a little
than to act on such absolute and wicked
nonsense as that “ Virtue cannot be
taught.”
There is very little doubt that the
popularity of this maxim, though due
partly to the good psychology above des
cribed, is mainly due to the bad psy
chology of “faculties.” Of course, if
will and character are independent of the
rest of the mind, they cannot be in
fluenced via the mind. The only hope
is in supernatural means.
And that brings us to the third reason
for the popularity of the maxim. Every
ecclesiastic, qua ecclesiastic, believes that
“Virtue cannot be taught.”
Meanwhile, despite the good psy
chology and the bad psychology of our
professors of education and theology, the
hero of the situation is Mr. F. J. Gould.
When the next professorship of edu
cation in England falls vacant, and the
committee of selection ask, not for safe
conventionalism, but for merit and power
and achievement, they will turn to the
man who, in the East End of London,
developed or discovered the same prin
ciple of Anschauung in moral teaching
that Pestalozzi, years before, had developed
or discovered in teaching other things.
For the two achievements are identical
in origin and in essence. The squalor
of Stanz and the squalor of Limehouse
drove each teacher to the concrete. If
only those men who moralise to us about
“ moralising ” would come from the
altitude of those social conditions where
good books and good example and good
traditions render moral teaching less
urgent, down to the regions where blank
moral ignorance prevails, they would be
less glib in giving utterance to bad edu
cational philosophy.
When one travels on a London
omnibus or a workmen’s train, and
notices numberless little acts of annoy
ance (spitting, putting dirty boots on
�APPENDICES
cushions, allowing sparks from a cigalltte
to blow into fellow-travellers’ eyes, etc.),
one is driven to ask whether these acts
spring largely from thoughtlessness or not.
The writer believes that they do, and
that simple systematic moral instruc
tion would be of much use even in
these comparatively trivial matters. Mr.
Paton, moving amid middle-class boys,
is amused at the inclusion of “ cleanli
ness ” in the Syllabus of the Moral
Instruction League ; no one who knows
what the slums are will smile at it. These
critics cannot justify their attitude ;
there is no real philosophy behind them ;
they cannot answer in the negative
the question, “Does evil, partly,at least,
spring from ignorance?” Nay, they im
plicitly give away their case, as Mr. Paton
did in his College of Preceptors lecture
of November 14th, 1906, by tracing sin
to “delusion.” The thing is inexplic
able— this strange prejudice against
direct moral instruction, this strange
sympathy for a mythical boy who has
been ruined by it.
The writer would ask this plain ques
tion : Is there no intellectual element in
good conduct? Was Sidgwick wrong
when he declared that “ the obstacles to
right conduct....... lie partly in the state
of our intellect, partly in the state of
our desires and will....... Let us suppose
that our notion of justice suddenly
became clear....... suppose this, undoubt
edly there would be much less injustice”?
If Sidgwick was right, even the baldest
and most abstract teaching of “ morals ”
must be of some value as destroying moral
ignorance.
____
VI.—Science and the “Humanities ”
(P- 54).
77
and several other subjects as well as any
teacher in the world, he cannot, as a
rule, do quite the same justice to litera
ture or history. These last subjects are
taught better in girls’ schools..
In London, too, there is still a slight
excess of emphasis on “ science,” though
the problem of how to teach this subject
is far more difficult than the parallel
problem of how to teach literature and
history. Almost any teacher with a
liking for literature and history can teach
it fairly well. Much depends on the
“liking”; but neither knowledge nor
liking will necessarily make a successful
science teacher. It is interesting to note
that our greatest scientists admit the
supreme value of humanistic study. “ A
training in science and scientific methods,
admirable as it is in so many ways, fails
to supply those humanising influences
which the older learning can so well
impart. For the moral stimulus that
comes from an association with all that
is noblest and best in the literatures of
the past, for the culture and taste that
spring from prolonged contact with the
highest models of literary expression, for
the widening of our sympathies and the
vivifying of our imagination by the study
of history and philosophy, the teaching
of science has no proper equivalents.
....... You will find in literature a source
of solace and refreshment, of strength
and encouragement, such as no depart
ment of science can give you.”1
VIL—The Bible in Schools (p. 61).
Judging from the trend of affairs, the
Bible seems likely to be excluded, sooner
or later, from primary schools. It is a
pity. Poor, perfunctory, and . unreal
though the teaching has sometimes, if
not frequently, been, many men who
have but small sympathy with militant
Bible-worship regret that Anglican and
Roman ecclesiastics seem determined
to drive education on towards the “logi
cal ” solution of secularism. To say
There is little doubt that our boys’
schools are weaker on the “ humanistic ”
side than on any other. The present
writer’s observations in London go to
confirm what has been his conviction
for many years—namely, that, while the
average class-master in England can pro
1 Sir A. Geikie, in Landscape in History, and
bably teach drawing, writing, arithmetic, other Essays.
�78
APPENDICES
that the Bible is a “ Nonconformist ”
book, and that the use of selections from
it in the school is an “endowment of
Nonconformity,” strikes a mere educa
tionist with amazement, especially in
view of the fact that Nonconformists,
during the last thirty years, have prac
tically done nothing to make Bible
teaching really educational. The writer
in 1902 carefully examined the sylla
buses of Biblical instruction issued by
leading School Boards, and found that
not more than one had any claim to the
respect of an educationist; even the
claim of the one was by no means
obvious.
The chief faults of these syllabuses
can be readily indicated.
Scrappiness. Instead of substantial
pieces from each suitable Biblical work,
a chapter or two, quite divorced from
the context, would be prescribed. The
idea that a great poetical or historical
work loses three-quarters of its effect
when dissected in this fashion had not
dawned upon our syllabus-makers; in
deed, even in the ordinary teaching of
“secular” literature the idea is only
just winning recognition. The bearings
of the apperception doctrine are obvious.
Apperception and interest are less likely
to spring up in connection with a series
of scraps than in connection with a mass
of closely related material.
Selection of unsuitable passages. An
extraordinary passion for the plagues of
Egypt, the conquest of Canaan by
Joshua, and the miracles of Elijah and
Elisha, had seized syllabus - makers.
There is no denying that portions of
these graphic narratives have consider
able interest for children, and might be
treated in a very profitable manner, the
unsuitable portions being replaced by a
brief narrative of the teacher’s. But,
speaking broadly, these three stories are
about the worst that could have been
selected in the whole Bible, and how
anyone could expect the cause of “ reli
gious education ” to be furthered by them
is unintelligible to the present writer.
In addition to the immense difficulties,
critical and theological, involved in these
stories, their ethical content is much
poorer than that of many others; nay,
one may say that the ethical element is
frequently perplexing in the highest
degree.
Omission of most valuable material.
While obviously and stupidly unsuitable
portions of the Bible were forced year
after year into the schools, the very best
portions (of the Old Testament, at any
rate) were entirely ignored. Magnificent
lessons in patriotism and righteousness
could have been based upon certain of
the prophets, especially Amos, Hosea,
Micah, Isaiah, and Jeremiah; and if,
in addition, the work of these men had
been put into its proper historical and
geographical settings, the humanistic and
culture value of the lessons for upper
standards would have been enormous. It is
almost maddening to think of the wasted
opportunities of the last thirty years.
While opposing religionists have been
wrangling over “religious education,”
educative materialof the very highest value
—poetry and literature and history more
ancient and precious than the vaunted
culture-giving classics of Greece and
Rome—has been under the very noses
of School Board members, Church of
England managers, and school teachers
—-and it has been ignored. None of our
public education authorities, until quite
lately, and very few even now, seem to
have ever thought of exploring this rich
mine of prophetic literature. One after
another the syllabuses have prescribed
the weary round of plagues of Egypt,
etc.
fust at the point where the Hebrew
Bible presents us with first-hand docu
ments, substantially contemporary with
the events they describe, and possessed
of the highest literary merit, the syllabus
leaps over to—Daniel! Amos, Hosea,
Micah, Isaiah, and Jeremiah—men who
dealt in a practical and wonderfully
modern manner with vice, social tyranny,
crooked politics, and shoddy patriotism,
and put their protests into immortal
forms—these were unanimously ignored.
�79
APPENDICES
It may be admitted that the problem of
teaching the prophets has not yet been
solved; but that the mere idea should
have occurred to scarcely one responsible
person in all England is an amazing fact.
Absence of correlation. While in
secular subjects some slight attempts
are being made to correlate history with
geography, literature with history, etc.,
and thus to call forth apperceptive in
terest more abundantly, little or nothing
of this kind was done in connection with
Biblical teaching. Cross references from
Psalms and Prophets to historical
books like Kings were unheard of;
equally so was the idea of showing
Jewish history in its relation to the great
empires of the East, Assyria, etc. No
“ syllabus ” encouraged these things, and
few teachers had authority or time or
inclination to depart widely from what
was prescribed. Given intelligently, the
Old Testament lessons would be some
of the finest for humanistic purposes in
the whole curriculum, opening children’s
minds to historical periods and names
otherwise unknown, and providing a
splendid array of material for the forma
tion and improvement of the moral
judgment. But by the adopted policy
of isolation, the awakening of appercep
tive interest has been almost an impos
sibility. The results are patent. How
many people, orthodox or heterodox,
“ Church ” or “ Chapel,” have any real
interest in nine-tenths of the Bible ?
Biblical teaching has also had to
struggle against difficulties unknown to
other subjects. Every teacher in Eng
land would have protested scornfully
against using a reading book with the
size, print, heterogeneity, and utter
absence of pictures that characterise the
Bible. Nozvhere in England, to the
knowledge of the writer, has any attempt
been made to put the printed Bible before
children in an attractive form. What
feeling but one of contempt for all the
rival religious parties can an educationist
possess ?
The writer would have been glad to
quote from two little books which, better
than any others, put the case for Biblical
teaching on educational grounds alone—
Matthew Arnold’s Great Prophecy of
Israel's Restoration, with its splendid
preface (Macmillan, is.), and the Rev.
Stewart D. Headlam’s The Place of the
Bible in Secular Education (Brown,
Langham, 6d.). The amusing thing is
that both of these men stand at the
opposite pole to Nonconformity.
In 1902 the present writer wrote The
Reform of Moral and Biblical Education
—a very impertinent and flippant book,
doubtless. The writer regrets some of
the things there written. But the signi
ficant fact is that all recent improve
ments in Biblical curricula (and great
improvements have been made by some
authorities—e.g., those of Hertfordshire,
Newport [Mon.], Hornsey, Bristol, Aberdare—especially the first)—are all in the
directions outlined in 1902.
It is the present writer’s conviction
that, sooner or later, there will be a dis
covery of the humanistic value of the
Bible. The Renaissance of the fifteenth
and sixteenth centuries, when the ancient
classics of Greece and Rome appeared
before men’s astonished eyes in all their
charm, will be repeated—with a dif
ference. We shall learn, all of us—
Churchmen, Nonconformists, and Secu
larists—that most of the Bible stands
apart from sectarian and credal dif
ferences, and that, even if Christianity
perished to-morrow, the Bible should
still have a place in our schools.
But the question is whether, through
the wrangles of the sects, the Bible will
have to be excluded for half a century
first? Maybe. And then we shall be
driven, as the American teachers have
been, to teach the secular “ humanities ”
better than at present.
One final remark. Modern child
study is throwing light upon the problem
of Biblical teaching. “ Boys of this age
(up to twelve) prefer the Old Testament
to the New. There are sound reasons
why it should first be taught them.”1
1 Forbush, in The Boy Problem,
�8o
APPENDICES
The educational tension will be re
lieved as soon as educational amateurs
(bishops, parsons, and platform orators)
are plainly told that they are ignorant of
the elements of modern pedagogy. For
most of them are.
(following the second, which deals with
“ many-sided interest ”) is devoted to
“Moral Strength of Character.” What
can safely be asserted is (1) that, though
a character without intellectual and other
“interests” can be negatively “mofaJ^
and even heroic “according to. its
lights,” nine-tenths of the realm of moral
VIII.—Some Prevalent Errors
conduct will remain, to such ah indi*
ABOUT ÜERBARTIAN TEACHING.
vidual, a terra incognita; many moral
A reviewer in School, January, 1904, claims (p.g., love of abstract truth, of
says that Herbart was “ indifferent to civic duty, etc.) will simply fail to be
natural science and even Miss Dodd “ apperceived ”—they will be meaning
remarks that. “ the Herbartians place less and unintelligible; (2) that in the
history as the centre of all subjects to be vast majority of cases there will not be
studied.”
even “ negative ” morality. The soul
In point of fact, Herbart was advocat that is inadequately supplied with “ in
ing the teaching of science long before terests ” is almost certain to succumb to
the scientific revival of the middle of the the temptations of the world or the
nineteenth century. His sixfold classifi flesh.
cation of interest (as empirical, specula
But, when all this is admitted, there
tive, aesthetic, sympathetic, social, and still remains the necessity for express!
religious) is fairly comprehensive, if not moral training, which will take such
complete and logical. The first three forms as discipline in good habits, thd
sub-divisions fall under the head of possible use of rewards and punishments,
“Interest in Nature,” and will thus in the enunciation of abstract moral maxims,
clude interest in natural science ; the last and the like. It is a strange fact that)
three under that of “ Interest in Human because Herbart, in a lightning-flash of
Nature ”; and a man who is developed genius, perceived the intimate relation
along all six directions will possess that ship between interest and character—a
aesthetic presentation of the universe relationship which, say what one likes, is
which, as early as 1804, Herbart still unknown or ignored or depreciated
declared to be the chief task of by the majority of professional educa
education.
tionists—he must therefore be blamed
The blunder has arisen from the pl*e- for identifying these two things, when, in
dominant influence of Ziller. He, as point of fact, he most expressly distin
Miss Dodd says, “ placed history as the guished them.
centre of all the subjects to be studied.”
The present writer has made a some
But it is erroneous to identify such a what special study of the criticisms
policy with Herbart himself, or with the directed against the Herbartian system,
more rational of his followers, such as and he would like to add that he does
Story and Dörpfeld.
not recollect a single practical criticism
Another common misapprehension is which has any real force as directed
that Herbart identifies interest with against Herbart as an educationist.
morality or goodness. Many and many
The latest British writer on Herbaran attempt has been made to show that tianism, Dr. Davidson, in his New Inters
a man may possess interests of a varied pretation of Herbarfs Psychology and
and powerful character, and may yet be Educational Theory, has done good work
morally contemptible.
in defending Herbart on certain philo
In point of fact, Herbart admits that sophical grounds untouched by the
interest is far from virtue, and the third present writer.
book of the Allgemeine Pädagogik
�ì
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“ Better than any commendation of the book that I can give was the verdict of
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29. SPENCER’S ES
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Joseph McCabe.
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Being the
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By G. H. Lewes.
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�
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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The secret of Herbart : an essay on the science of education
Description
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 80 p. ; 22 cm.
Series title: R.P.A. Extra Series
Series number: 12
Notes: Includes bibliographical references. Printed in two columns. First published in 1904. New edition, revised and enlarged, published in 1907. Issued by arrangement with Messrs. Swan Sonnenschein & Co. Ltd., for the Rationalist Press Association Limited. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
Herbart's pedagogy emphasised the connection between individual development and the resulting societal contribution. He believed that every child is born with a unique potential, his Individuality, but that this potential remained unfulfilled until it was analysed and transformed by education in accordance with what he regarded as the accumulated values of civilisation. Only formalised, rigorous education could, he believed, provide the framework for moral and intellectual development. The five key ideas which composed his concept of individual maturation were Inner Freedom, Perfection, Benevolence, Justice and Equity or Recompense. [Edited from Wikipedia, 2/2018].
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Hayward, F. H. (Frank Herbert), 1872-1954
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1907
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Text
THE RISING GENERATION
A
DISCOURSE
BEFORE THE
SOUTH PLACE SOCIETY,
JUNE 27TH, 1880,
BY
MONCURE D. CONWAY, M.A.
LONDON :
SOUTH PLACE, FINSBURY.
PRICE TWOPENCE.
�LONDON :
Wateblow & Sons Limited
LONDON WALL.
�THE RISING GENERATION.
<^OME of us can remember the time when the
heart of England was stirred by Elizabeth
Barrett’s poem, “ The Cry of the Children.” A revela
tion had come from the dark mines of the country
telling how little children were held all their lives in
gloomy imprisonment, knowing nothing but work. In
the mines were subterranean villages gloomy as the
chambers of Dante’s Hell; some children were born
there, lived, laboured, and died there, and only
when dead did they come into the upper world—for
burial. Little children were found who did not know
what a flowrer was—they had never seen a flower.
Then the “ Cry of the Children ” was heard. They
uttered none for themselves; down in the pit they
silently worked through their miserable lives, while the
children of the world danced and were gay; yet their
voices were heard in the poet’s lamentation, in the
stateman’s eloquence, in the people’s sympathy, and
the wrong was swept away.
It seems to us now almost incredible that such an
�(
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evil should have existed within our own memories. So
clear to our eyes are the evils of other times than our
own. But, alas, the need is always for eyes that can
see the evils of their own time, and how few are they !
In Dante’s Inferno one of the saddest places was the
abode of those who moved about in a spiritual fog
which obscured everything that was near to them.
They could clearly see events in the far past, they
could see into the future, but they could not see the
present. These, during life, had given no effect to
the experience of the past, exerted no influence on
the future, because they did not study to discern the
facts at hand, the conditions around them. They
could not see time’s flowing stream at the point where
it passed them, where must be dropped what is to
reach the future. It is but a too faithful picture of
multitudes who do not seem to themselves to be
in any Inferno at all. There are many who can hear
the cry of the children in the last generation, but can
hear no cry in the present. Yet there is a cry. It
comes no longer from subterranean mines, but it
comes from unhappy homes; from the gloomy realms
of pauperism, ignorance, and disease; and it comes
from the sunless dungeons of dogma, where millions
of children live and die, never seeing any flower of
life, of beauty, or of joy.
In speaking to you this morning of the rising
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generation I do not propose to enter upon ideal
speculations about the future, nor to propose quixotic
schemes for abolishing all the evils of the world. I
wish rather to limit your attention to facts near at
hand, and conditions more or less within our reach.
And, first of all, to impress upon you, as practical
people, the fact that the visible conditions of the world
have invisible foundations. Things are founded on
thoughts. The world that man has built up,—the
world of society, politics, nationality, religion,—is a
phenomenal world, supported by causes always causing
it; having for its beams and rafters moral and mental
sustainers; and every change of thought or belief in
the human mind is followed by a change in the visible
conditions of the world. For example, were the
Sabbatarian superstition removed from the mind of
this country, the bars and bolts which close the
refining institutions of the country would also be
removed. If the Christian superstition were to die out
of the English mind, the wealth and power it freezes
up in an iceberg would melt, and streams would flow
through the deserts where hearts and brains are
famishing. Beware therefore of undervaluing thought,
knowledge, beliefs, principles, because they are in
visible. There are many thousands of Christian people
who industriously battle with visible sufferings and
vices. They do a little good here and a little good
�(
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there, in particular cases ; but the evils invariably
return. Like the fabled daughters of Danaus they fill
their sieves with water, but it always runs out again,
because they do not stop the holes in the sieve’s
bottom : they do not stop them because they are
invisible; they are the unconscious falsities of their
creeds, diverting, human minds and efforts away from
the work of practically saving themselves from actual
evils, to the fruitless work of saving themselves from
unreal evils.
The only way'to help men permanently is to enable
them to help themselves. To give them resources is
to shield them from want and sorrow; to educate
their mental and physical strength is to make them
rich; to surround them with social interests is to
make them good citizens; and all these, and other
conditions of human welfare, depend upon the pre
vailing doctrine of what is the chief end and aim of
human life. He who lifts that aim even a little, lifts
the lives of millions with it; and a man is never so
charitable, never so practical, as when he is destroying
an error and affirming a truth. If benevolence wishes
to bestow or bequeathe real benefit, let it not give too
largely to the institutions which deal with the annual
crop of evils that ignorance sows, let it attack the
ignorance ; let it not build temperance coffee-houses
to be closed on the only day they are much needed,
�(
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but attack the superstition which locks the people
out of the splendid art-houses already existing, and
leaves them no resource but debauchery. I do not
disparage the disposition to relieve suffering whenever
met with ; but let it not be supposed that such is the
highest or the most practical charity to mankind. A
single pound given for human culture, for spiritual
liberty, for advancement of a high cause or principle,
is worth a thousand bestowed to salve over wounds
which only knowledge and justice can heal. And 1
will add that as the pound given for the transient
mitigation of an evil is but a drop of oil on an ocean
of misery, that which is bestowed in freeing a mind
from error is strictly economised, and has a fair
prospect of being multiplied through generations.
This high charity must not only be thus practical
and economical in its object, but also in its method.
The regeneration of the world must be through its
successive generations. You cannot change the habits
of an old man. What troubles grow from those habits
you may assuage, but they can only be eradicated
with the constitution around which they have formed.
The best thing a matured generation can do is to run
to seed—the seed of experience—to select from these
-seeds those that are largest and soundest, and sow
•them in the quick soil of youth and vigour. It is the
principles so entrusted to the rising generation which
�(
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grow with its growth, transmute decays into life,
failures into success, and transmit an ever-increasing
volume of wisdom and happiness.
What then is the present cry of the children ? their
perhaps inarticulate, but all the profounder cry ? What
are their needs ? How are they being taught ? It is
not our business to boast that much has been done,
that the children have been taken from the streets and
put to school. That was the work of a generation now
closed. What work the next is to add to that, is a
question more inportant than what has been already
done; we can rightly rejoice only if we feel that the
best is now being done.
It is to be feared we have little reason to felicitate
ourselves upon our dealings with the rising generation.
To a large extent the young are being taught over
again what their elders have painfully unlearned ; they
are solemnly and deliberately crammed with that
which the best thought of our time has proved to be
untrue.
A young man recently emancipated from Roman
Catholicism gave me an account of how he wasbrought up. When the poor little papist is born, his
inborn demon is exorcised. Water is thrown on his
head, also salt and oil; the cross signed on its fore
head ; a candle is held beside it, a Latin formula
muttered, and a half-crown demanded. The mother
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is also subjected to an exorcism for having borne a
demon into the world, and another half-crown is'
demanded for the churching. Both of these cere
monies remain in the Church of England. The water
exorcism remains in all denominations. Even some
Unitarians are not ashamed to practice a form which
is either a mockery, or a proclamation of the diabolical
nature of the child.
Fortunately the little papist is unconscious of these
proceedings ; but unfortunately, his training is on the
belief that the exorcised demon is always trying to get
back into the form from which he was expelled. He
is taught to regard this as the chief danger of his life;
he must continually make the sign of the cross, and
pray to Jesus, Joseph, Mary, and other saints. He
must bow to holy pictures and crucifixes, wear holy
medals and charms, and is taught that these are the
things which alone protect him from danger every
moment. When he enters church or school he
sprinkles himself with holy water, bends his knee
before an altar, and understands that he inhales
mysterious good things with incense. At school he
utters “ Hail Mary ” every time the hour strikes. He
is fed on miraculous stories of the marvels wrought
by saints and holy objects. The Catechism is the
. only thing taught him with any real industry : the
■ three principal ideas with which he is impressed are
�(
IO
)
his utter depravity, his utter inability to help himself
without the priest, and the diabolical iniquity of
presuming to ask any question about the “sacred
mysteries.’ At the age of seven or nine he is prepared
for confession by what is called ‘ examining the
conscience ’ which consists in making him read over
a list of all the abominations ever committed by man.
The purity of the child’s mind being thus poisoned,
he is made to confess all the evil thoughts so awakened.
He is then taught the sacredness of penance; worship
of the Eucharist as God himself; and so he is given
to society. But if all that should succeed in really
moulding-him he would be hardly better off mentally
than were those children of the mines who never saw
a flower.
This is the pit from which the Christian child of
this country was dug by the Reformation, but was
very soon plunged into others where much of its
little life is still passed. Puritanism was even a
darker pit than Catholicism, and most of the sects
were mere variants of Puritanism.
The English
Church being the church of royalty and wealth, had
to accommodate its dogmas to the indulgencies, tastes
and sports of the upper classes. The aristocracy
preserved many traditions from its barbaric origin,
and has steadily refused to be captured by asceticism,
or tamed by Puritanism. But unfortunately it did
�(
IX
)
not refuse to submit to hypocrisy; and it goes on still
with the supplications of terror on its lips and
indifference in its heart.
Its catechism indoctrinates
in asceticism, its life in worldliness. It cries for
mercy on Sunday, and hunts foxes on Monday. It
calls itself a miserable sinner at church, and resents
the slightest aspersion of its character elsewhere. It
were hard to conceive a more continuous drill in
hypocrisy than that child undergoes who is taught the
church catechism in the intervals of a life practically
absorbed in worldly schemes. It is to the credit of
human nature that there are so many g&pdjent
characters which survive the training of Catrmn8fta,
and the repressions of Puritanism; but, still more to
its credit that so many frank and earnest men survive
the teachings of a church which so baldly separates
theory from practice.
But statistics show a vast population never going
to any church at all.
A large number of these are working men, who feel
that the church is their enemy, and to whom the
sects are unattractive. The labouring masses find in
sleep, drink, and public-house gossip, the best
compensation for six days’ toil. And there are many
literary men, men of science, and gentlemen, who
stay away from church and sect out of sheer disbelief
and disgust. Yet the families of these generally go to
�(
12
)
church, their children are baptised, catechised, and
generally taught the dogmas which their parents
despise. With the exception of the comparatively few
Liberals who have formed Societies of their own, the
rising generation is thus instructed in the same
catechisms, creeds, confessions in which their prede
cessors were instructed.
Even the learning of the
country abnegates its paramount duty to see that the
women and children of the nation are taught truth,
and consecrated in every way possible to the diffusion
of truth.
Thus the Catholic procedure, rejected in theory,
characterises the actual treatment of the Protes
tant child, too often of the disbeliever’s child. He
is not dealt with as one possessed, but as a moral
invalid who must go to the holy doctor every week,
and be dosed with piety and texts.
It is a terrible misdirection of that child’s mind,
and many are mentally hunch-backed for life by it.
It is by children being committed to the parsons as
to dress-makers. Through this indifferentism, which
may almost be called hardened, society goes on
repeating the old routine from generation to genera
tion.
Every year rolls up its steady average- of
abuses unreformed, evils unchanged, falsities laughed
at and maintained. Some progress is made but it is
'mainly through the slow working of natural necessity,
�the accompaniment of physical changes incident to the
pursuit of wealth.
It is as nothing compared with the progress that
would be made if all the thinkers and educated people
of the community were to seriously set themselves to
the work of securing to their families, especially their
children, the full benefits of their best knowledge
and experience, treating every attempt to teach them
fashionable falsities as they would attempts to indoct
rinate them in sorcery. It is the abstract verdict of
science that Christian dogmas are false. That is equally
the verdict of moral and mental philosophy. But their
verdict remains unexecuted. Until they feel also that
these dogmas are so many poisons, the Creeds and
Catechisms so many bottles of poison steadily infused
into the springs that feed society; until they besiege
those sects which so poison spiritual springs as they
would water-companies sending corruption through the
community, or adulterators of the public food; until
then, we need not hope that the best knowledge of this
age will enter upon its duty of bringing social institutions
out of their barbarous constitution into conformity
with reason and right.
What is the Creed taught to the millions of children
around us ? That they are born totally depraved; that
they are in danger of eternal damnation; that they
have incurred this danger by no act of their own, and
can be saved by no act of their own; that they were
�(
*4
)
corrupted by a man and woman who lived six thousand
years ago, and must be saved by the murder of a man
who lived over eighteen hundred years ago. This is
what is taught every child, with few exceptions.
What does human culture believe? That such
teaching is utterly preposterous. It believes every
child is born innocent, liable to actual dangers, to be
saved from them by others’ care in early life, ultimately
by its own intelligence and activities, quite irrespective
of any apple eaten in Paradise or murder committed in
Palestine.
The dogmas are just the reverse of the knowledge,
and yet there is no serious combined effort among the
intelligent people to substitute knowledge for proven
falsities in the training of children.
It is too obvious to be insisted on that such a
phenomenon is immoral, not to say criminal. Yet
many who see the evil are unable to see or suggest
the remedy. The impediment that seems to lie in the
way is the principle of patriarchal liberty under which
the various sects have been able to combine in a
political community. We cannot step in between
parent and child and interfere with any teaching which
professes to be religious. Were such a principle
adopted it would be the Liberals who would suffer
most. Liberalism cannot afford to advocate any in
terference by law, not even to protect a child from
�(
i5
)
having its eyes put out—its intellectual eyes—or its
moral back broken by the weight of false dogmas
parentally imposed.
We are not, indeed, responsible for not doing what
we cannot do, but we are responsible for doing our
very best with what ways and means are at our
disposal. There is no call to quarrel with our tools
until we have made the most of them. Have we done
that ? Are we aiming to do that! Consider this, for
instance : suppose it were no longer for the interest
of any social institution, such as a Church, that these
dogmas should be taught to any. Suppose, if your
imagination is equal to it, that the endowments of the
Church were all transferred to institutions which teach
no creeds ; all national property going to endow that
which all agree to be real knowledge; all sectarian
property being taxed because it is private property.
That would be the simplest political justice. Because
that is not the state of the law, you and I are made to
pay every year to support dogmas we abhor. Sadi
said that if there were a tax upon reading the Koran
in public many holy men would be dumb. Though I
would not say that of the Bible, it may safely be
said of the Athanasian Creed : if every time those
anathemas are uttered from the pulpit the curser of
his opponents were taxed instead of bribed, that
solemn blasphemy would cease. And many other
�(
*6
)
things would cease if law, fashion, and respectability
did not throw around them a glamour which hides
their monstrosity.
Without disestablishment of the Church, the dis
establishment of dogmas generally,—removal of the
immunities of the dissenting sects,—cannot take place ;
and without disendowment, and the taxation of church
property, a vast power would be given up to the
unchecked control of superstition. It is, therefore, a
plain, legitimate, and not intolerant aim for Liberalism
to labour for the total disendowment of all creeds.
Parents would then have no inducement, no bribe to
submit their children to a catechetical tuition which
they did not approve ; and it is very doubtful if
many parents, were the matter thus thrown absolutely
upon themselves, would summon the catechist to their
families. If we could only compel common sense to
act upon what is now left to sacerdotal self-interest,
many a child would be shielded from inoculation in
error.
You may smile at the idea of our succeeding in
disendowing all creeds. But we may succeed in dis
endowing them in many minds. Every clear agitation
for a rational cause is a process of education; it
commands the attention, and if it be right and
reasonable it must make its way with the process of
of the suns.
�(
T7
)
Besides this political direction of our influence, we
may turn our social advantages, whatever they may
be, to the side of what we believe true. The great
power of error lies in the social advantages it can
bestow upon the young, who can feel such advantages
long before they can realise the falsities gilded by
them. The desire for polite and attractive society is
not only natural but worthy, and liberal thinkers owe
it as a duty both to truth and to society that they
should contribute all they can to associate their views
with the standards of good taste, refinement, beauty,
and innocent gaieties. It must be remembered that
in the world the decorations and enjoyments of life
represent its unorthodoxy. The Church has come to
patronise them through compulsion of long experience.
It began with nunneries and convents, dust and ashes,
cowls and hair-garments; ugly anti-social habits and
habiliments were the natural insignia of creeds that
taught man’s depravity and despair. Every earthly
beauty and joy is a protest against orthodoxy, and
they legitimately belong to the religion of Liberalism
and Humanity. Social enjoyments, mirth and beauty,
are heresies which appeal far more to the young
generation than scientific statements. The liberal
movement in this country was historically evolved out
of the Puritan movement, and some of those sombre
traditions still adhere to it; but these should be
�(
i8
)
outgrown. Carefulness in dress, observance of fashion
■so far as it is healthy, dancing, interchanges of hospi
tality, should not be regarded as frivolous, but as
related to the progressive civility of the world, the
true accompaniments of its liberation from sacrificial
ideas of religion. Liberalism will be largely benefitted
by more generous outlays in this direction, and by
■each thinker taking care to do his and her part that
the tastes shall not be starved while the intellect and
moral nature are fed. It is of the utmost importance
that in the steady effort of the young to improve the
style and position of their families, they should less
and less have to seek their society chiefly outside of
liberal circles at cost of their religious and intellectual
principles.
It is equally incumbent upon all liberal thinkers to
¿o something towards raising the moral tone of society
from its theological depravation into harmony with the
standard of personal veracity and honour. It is not
veracity and it is not honour that men should submit
without an effort to having their children taught pious
falsehoods and placed under the influence of priests
whose creeds they despise. We need a severer
standard of veracity and honesty than that. It is a
poor subterfuge to say that the rising generation should
be left free to form its own opinions. As well say a
garden should be left free to produce what it pleases.
�(
i9
)
It will produce weeds, and so will the mind not
carefully cultured. We owe to all we can influence
our very best thought, our maturest experience, and
we cannot escape that responsibility. We must tell
our children just what we believe true, and let them
know that it is a basis for them to build on. They
are to think for themselves.
Occasions are not wanting to realise for ourselves,
and to impress upon the young, the steadily corrupt
ing influence of proven errors established by law. We
have just witnessed in the legislative assembly of this
great nation how easily, when a constitutional super
stition is touched, men, who in worldly affairs are
gentlemen, relapse into coarseness, calumny, and
lawlessness. In the name of what they call God, but
which is no more a God than Mumbo-Jumbo,—a
fetish made up of the aggregate ignorance of church
men who find it a paying stock, recreant Jews
courting Christian favour, Catholics sniffing again the
burning flesh of Smithfield once mingled with their
incense,—in the name of that God who cursed
nature, kindled Tophet for man, and founded in the
world as under it a government of fire and faggot,
they have not hesitated at any meanness, falsehood,
or injustice to inflict a blow upon intellectual liberty,
and even national liberty which dares disregard
dogma. We have seen one bearing the title of Knight,
�(
20
)
which used to mean defender of woman, dragging up
the name of a lady of spotless character amid brutal
laughter, trying to rob of reputation one whom an
unjust judge had already robbed of her child. All
this we have seen done in the name of an established
phantasm called God. The outbreak of fanaticism in
some deputies from wild districts is far less base than
the partizan fury, which, in its eagerness to strike their
conqueror, led a party to vote like one herd upon a
question of fact and law. By a remarkable coincidence
the law is just what will most annoy their opponentsand
most delay public business, so punishing the country
for taking its business out of their hands. There’s truth
and honour for you! These are the followers of Jesus
and protectors of Omnipotence ! These be thy gods,
O people of England, who demand that woman should
be insulted, law defied, and the sanctuary of law
turned into a bear-garden, rather than that a man
holding the opinions of the majority of scientific men
in Europe shall be admitted to sit beside sanctified
sporting squires, priest-ridden papists, and capacious
city-men, making gold out of his blood who had not
where to lay his head ! The Member for Northampton
no doubt has his faults; but now when he suffers not
for his faults but for his virtues, and when in his person
are assailed the rights of every independent thinker in
this nation, I will undertake to affirm that he is nearer
to that man whom the Sanhedrim scourged than the best
�(
21
)
of his assailants, and that the spirit which pursues him
because of his testimony against priestcraft and his
fidelity to the people, is the self-same spirit that
crowned Christ with thorns and pressed poison to the
lips of Socrates.
We need not much regret this revolutionary out
break of superstition allied with the class-interests pre
served by superstition. A more salient illustration of
the wolfish hunger for power underlying the unholy
alliance of pious and political tyranny was never
given to a people. If the Member for Northampton
had lived to Methuselah’s age, and made a daily
speech in Parliament, he could not have done so much
as his enemies have done in a few days to advance the
cause of atheism, so far as that means disbelief in
the God of his oppressors. The Bishop of Peter
borough says the French Revolutionary Assembly
decreed the suppression of God; but the revolutionary
House of Commons has decreed his disgrace. Their
deity is unmasked and turns out to be only a party
whip. If John Milton were living he might see in
this disgrace of the political deity the hand of the
real God overthrowing the usurper of his place. In
his time also imperialism made God into a prop of its
despotism, and Milton then wrote, “ Sure it was the
hand of God to let them fall, and be taken in such a
foolish trap as hath exposed them to all derision ;
�(
22
)
........................ thereby testifying how little he accepted
(prayers) from those who thought no better of the
living God than of a blind buzzard idol, fit to be so
served and worshipped.”
This nation is more hopelessly sunk in superstition
than I believe it to be, if it be not now awakened to
the politically destructive tendencies of dogmas
imported from barbarous tribes. It is, however, of
importance that we should see to it that the lesson is
not lost upon the rising generation. We have in this
country a great literature in which the highest
principles of morality and honour are reflected. On
the other hand, we have a so-called religion in which
all the massacres of Judaism and Christianity, their
treasons to humanity, are sanctified.
We have
simply to let every unsophisticated mind look
on this picture and on that.
We have only
to point to theological morality in Parliament
putting a premium on hypocrisy, by declaring that
it is ready to receive an atheist if he conceals his
opinions; to theological morality trampling law for
party ends; to theological morality foul-mouthed,
insolent, treating honesty of mind and honesty of
speech as crimes. We have only to ask the con
science of the mother, whether she would be glad
to have her child grow up to so encourage conceal
ment of thought, so brow-beat honesty, so over-ride
�law, slander man and insult woman, all for the sake
of God ? We have only to ask the heart of youth
whether it is prepared to worship a God so upheld,
or for any success or ambition to pretend to believe
in a religion so built on baseness ?
I believe that these questions are stirring millions of
hearts this day, and that the rising generation will
show it when fully risen. I believe that it is largely
because lessons like this have been impressed
upon past generations that the present struggle of
freedom against sacerdotalism has come.
It is also because our wise fathers taught those now
grown gray that their trusty weapons were to be free
and honest thought, fact, argument, lawful, that we
now see Oppression taking to violence, to revolution,
and Progress standing by the law. Let us better their
instruction. Let us impress upon the rising generation
that in calmness and justice is their strength. Let us
teach them the gentle, irresistible force that goes
with intellectual power, with study, mastery of their
cause, and above all the might that ever gathers to
the higher standard of morality and humanity.
�SOUTH PLACE
CHAPEL*
WORKS TO BE OBTAINED IN THE LIBRARY.
BY M. D. CONWAY, M.A.
Prices.
The Sacred Anthology: a Book of Ethnical s. d.
Scriptures......................................................... 10 0
The Earthward Pilgrimage.................................
5 0
Do.
do.......................................... 2 6
Republican Superstitions .................................
2 6
Christianity .....................................................
1 6
Human Sacrifices in England
.......................
1 0
Sterling and Maurice...........................................
0 2
Intellectual Suicide...........................................
0 2
The First Love again...........................................
0 2
Our Cause and its Accusers......................
... 0 1
Alcestis in England...........................................
0 2
Unbelief : its nature, cause, and cure ............. 0 2
Entering Society
...........................................
0 2
The Religion of Children ...
...
...
... 0 2
What is Religion ?—Max Muller's First Hibbert
Lecture ...................................................... 0 2
Atheism: a Spectre...........................................
0 2
The Criminal’s Ascension.................................
0 2
The Religion of Humanity.................................
0 2
A Last Word.....................................................
0 2
NEW WORK BYM.D. CONWAY, M.A.
Idols and Ideals (including the Essay on Chris
tianity ), 350 pages
.............
...
••• 6 0
Jiembers of the Congregation can obtain this Work in the
Library at 5s.
BY MR. J. ALLANSON PICTON.
The Transfiguration of Religion.......................
BY A. J. ELLIS, B.A., F.R.S., &c., &c.
Salvation
.....................................................
Truth
Speculation .....................................................
Duty
...............................................................
The Dyer’s Hand
...........................................
BY REV. P. H. WTCKSTEED, M.A.
Going Through and Getting Over
.............
BY REV. T. W. FRECKELTON.
The Modern Analogue of the Ancient Prophet
BY W. C. COUPLAND, M.A,
The Conduct of Life...........................................
0 2
0
0
0
0
0
2
2
2
2
2
0 2
0 2
0 2
Hymns and Anthems...
...
...
1/-, 2/-, %/■
Report of the Conference of Liberal Thinkers, 1878, 1/-
�
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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The rising generation: a discourse before the South Place Society, June 27th 1880
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Conway, Moncure Daniel [1832-1907.]
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 23, [1] p. ; 15 cm.
Notes: Part of Morris Miscellaneous Tracts 2. Printed by Waterlow and Sons, London Wall. With list of works to be obtained in the Library of South Place Chapel at end of pamphlet.
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[South Place Chapel]
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G3348
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Child rearing
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English
Child Rearing-Moral and Ethical Aspects
Children
Dogma
Education
Free Thought
Moral Education
Morris Tracts
Rationalism
Youth-Great Britain-Religious Life
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NATIONAL SECULAR SOCIETY
PRICE TWOPENCE
THE
RELIGIOUS EDUCATION
OF CHILDREN
BY THE LATE
Rev. JAMES CRANBROOK
(EDINBURGH)
[issued for the rationalist press association, ltd.]
London :
WATTS & CO.,
17, JOHNSON’S COURT, FLEET STREET, E.C.
1908
��THE RELIGIOUS EDUCATION OF
CHILDREN
Religion is only a form of feeling. This needs to be dis
tinctly understood, or else we shall blunder at every step we
take. But I feel I have no occasion to go into any very
elaborate proof of it, as most rational thinkers have become
familiar with the arguments on which it rests. They know
that religion is not the observance of forms and ceremonies,
inasmuch as men may observe all these most punctiliously
and yet be mere hypocrites and pretenders to the religious
life. Nor is religion the belief of certain creeds, inasmuch
as men have held parts of every kind of orthodoxy, and yet
been most atrociously impious. But, as it is generally
expressed, it is a state of the heart, of the feelings, a state
of faith, reverence, awe, love, dependence, or fear, according
to the character of the divine object presented to the mind.
No distinction can be more important than that of this
modern one between theology and religion. It is necessary
to the interpretation of all the religious history of the past,
and to all intelligent religious action in the present. Religion
is the feeling which arises when a divine object is presented
to the mind ; theology is the explanation the intellect gives
of that object, its nature, character, and relations, the analysis
of the feeling itself, and the exposition of the forms of expres
sion or worship to which the feeling gives rise. So that it is
quite clear that religion must precede theology in the order of
time; the thing analysed and explained, ?>., must come
before the analysis and explanation. And it is further clear
that religion and theology may exist quite independently of
3
�4
THE RELIGIOUS EDUCATION OF CHILDREN
each other—i.e., the intellectual process which explains is
quite a different thing from the emotional state which seeks
for the explanation. A man may feel deeply, and yet, through
defect of intellect, be entirely without the theological know
ledge ; or he may through his power of intellect understand
the whole question of the theology, and yet seldom or never
in the faintest degree be the subject of the religious feeling.
Bearing in mind, then, these distinctions, what is it we are
inquiring into when we propose to ourselves the subject of
a child’s religious education ?
By religious education do we mean the education of that
feeling which arises upon the perception of a divine object?
or do we mean the analysis and ascertaining of the truths or
facts respecting the divine object of the feeling—z.e., theo
logy? or do we mean both the education of the feeling and
of the intellectual process of its interpretation ? Now, if I
mistake not, the popular idea of religious education is wholly
limited to the second meaning—z.e., the learning of theology.
Hence, e.g\, you will see in the prospectuses of various
schools a long rigmarole about the great importance they
attach to religious education, and the pains they give to it ;
and then, when you come to look into the processes by which
they carry on this important work, you will find that it often
happens that the sole effort they make in this direction with
one class for a whole year is to instruct their pupils in the
question of the Christian evidences 1 Now, I admit to the
fullest extent the great importance of this question. It is
one of the great questions of the day. In matters of theo
logy, it is the great question. But it is not a question of
religion. It is a question of historical criticism. And
historical criticism is a science of recent times, and requires
more learning, hard and dry study, power of acute and
accurate reasoning, and maturity of judgment than any other
science of the same class. To set children, therefore, to the
study of the Christian evidences, and then to call this
�THE RELIGIOUS EDUCATION OF CHILDREN
5
proceeding their religious education, seems to me as egregious
a piece of blundering as ever was perpetrated, and at the
same time proves what I said—that in popular estimation
religious education means, for the most part, education in
theology.
I do not mean to say, however, that there is no religious
education. On the contrary, there is a great deal of it,
Sometimes too much, and out of all proportion. But it is
carried on, and especially by pious mothers, without any
idea that it is education, and, consequently, without any
thought or system. The only thing called and attended to
as education consists of theological doctrines. But, in the
sense in which I speak of religious education, it is the first
of those I named—z’.e., the education of that feeling or those
feelings which arise upon the presentation to the mind of a
divine object, or, in other words, on the contemplation of the
mystery of the universe—the education of the feelings of
wonder, awe, reverence, love, and dependence. It is not
forming our minds to the study of theological truth. That
may be used as a means of religious education indirectly ;
and we may see thereafter that it is a means. But the
religious education itself is the development, direction, and
promotion of the growth of the religious feeling, the
purifying it from gross superstitions and sensual elements,
and rendering it elevated and elevating, pure and purifying,
noble and ennobling. Now, by what process is this to be
effected ? I have already alluded to the means generally
employed. Pious parents feel it their duty at the very
earliest period to begin with teaching their children theology—
notions respecting God, the soul, eternity—and in instructing
them in the feelings they ought to cherish with regard to
these objects. As soon as they can lisp, they teach them to
say prayers ; as soon as they can repeat sentences like a
parrot, they teach them a catechism. Now, not only is this
most destructive to the intellect, by teaching the child to use
�6
THE RELIGIOUS EDUCATION OF CHILDREN
words without a meaning, but it is creating in the child, so
far as it awakens religious feeling at all, a merely super
stitious religion founded on a false theology, which it will
afterwards have to correct. It is sad to reflect that in most
schools children receive to-day the same ideas in regard to
the universe and the destiny of man which their ancestors
entertained, and which are in direct contradiction to con
temporary knowledge.
Let us take as an illustration of what I mean the first two
questions of the simplest and the most generally used cate
chism for little children I know—Dr. Watts’s. I have known
it taught to children three years old, and, of course, before
they could read ; and have constantly heard it referred to as
the very model of a manual for the purpose. And most
certainly it represents the spirit—and very much of the letter
—of teaching children yet in their early years. It begins
with asking: “Can you tell me, child, who made you?”
The answer is: “The Great God who made heaven and
earth.” Now, here at the very outset are two notions
involving the most recondite and difficult ideas, which lie
utterly beyond a child’s comprehension. What idea can a
child have of God which is not utterly false ? Whatnotion
can the words convey but what is grossly superstitious? To
give the word “ God ” to a young child without explanation
is to teach him to use words without meaning—the greatest
curse of most people’s lives. To attempt to give him an
explanation is simply to call his creative fancy into play, by
means of which he will form for himself a most ridiculous
idol. If you awaken religion at all—i.e., feeling towards this
misconceived object, this idol—it will be a religion as super
stitious as ever was that of pagan nations. But then, in this
answer there is another notion besides that of God, and as
utterly incomprehensible to a child—that of a cosmogony—
the generation of a world, of the universe. What are you
going to say to a young child about God’s making the
�THE RELIGIOUS EDUCATION OF CHILDREN
7
heavens and the earth? Will you explain, supposing you
are able to do so? He could not comprehend. Would you
leave it unexplained, and let him form his own notions?
“ Oh,” you say ; “ who would think to teach a child your fine
scientific ideas ? I would leave him to the plain common
sense meaning of the words; every child knows what to make
means.” To be sure ! You are quite right. A child knows
what to make means, for he has seen your cook make pastry,
or he has made mud houses in the streets ; so he takes the
meaning of to make as thus learned—the only thing he can
do, according to the laws of thought—and applies the notion
to God’s making the heavens and the earth ! Is that, how
ever, the meaning you would have him take the words in ?
Do you think such a notion will produce in him any deep
religion—that is, reverence, wonder, love, dependence upon
him who has done for the heavens and the earth what the
child knows he has done for the mud house made in the
streets? It is all an absurdity together. If the child think
and feel about it at all, it will be false thought and feeling.
If he do not think and feel, he has learned to use words
without attending to the ideas they represent.
Let us now go on to the second question in the cate
chism, recollecting we quote it, not merely because it is very
generally used, but because it exactly expresses the spirit of
what is called “ religious ” education where it is not used.
That question is : “ What does this Great God do for you?”
“He keeps me from harm by night and by day, and is always
doing me good.” Now, the criticism upon this is very short
and very sharp. In the only sense in which a young child
could understand it, it is absolutely untrue. In the only
sense in which anybody could understand it, it is partially
untrue. God does not keep us from harm by night and by
day, and is not always doing us good. He sometimes lets
us get into a very great deal of harm, and sometimes does us
a great deal of evil. “Oh, but that is all for wise and
�8
THE RELIGIOUS EDUCATION OF CHILDREN
gracious purposes.” But the catechism does not say so ;
and besides, whatever the purpose, harm is harm, evil is
evil ; and, in the sense of the catechism, God does not keep
us from the one and does inflict the other. What of truth
would there have been in the answer if those children who
lost their lives in the fire last week had repeated it before they
went to bed? “ He keeps me from harm by night and by day,
and is always doing me good ’’—and yet to wake up in the
agony of suffocation and a horrible death by fire ! “ Oh,
yes,” you say ; “ but those poor children may have been saved
from worse calamities by this premature death, agonising
and dreadful as it was.”
Ay ! but to die and go we know not where,
To lie in cold obstruction and to rot;
This sensible, warm motion to become
A kneaded clod........... ’tis too horrible !
The weariest and most loathed worldly life
That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment
Can lay on nature is a paradise
To what we fear of death.
But, indeed, all the poets might be quoted in the same strain,
showing that our human nature shrinks from death as the
greatest of earthly evils ; nor could any sophistry persuade
one that it were better to die the agonising death of those
children than to live on in poverty. What I say, therefore,
is that that catechism does not teach truth when it teaches
“God keeps us,” etc. He may have higher and wiser pur
poses to serve than we could comprehend; but in our mortal
state harm is constantly happening to us, and we constantly
suffer evil. If, therefore, the child’s religion be founded upon
such teaching, it will be an erring, blind, superstitious reli
gion. It will trust God for what it will not get, depend upon
him for what he will not do ; and the consequence will be, if
the child ever become thoughtful, he will have to abandon,
and perhaps with agonising conflicts and doubts, all you
have ever taught.
�THE RELIGIOUS EDUCATION OF CHILDREN
9
Having thus prepared the way, the next step generally
taken in the child’s religious education is to introduce a
catechism of a more theologically recondite character. It
may be taught at school or at home. But, with any notion
of religion, the idea of training a child in it at school,
surrounded by a large and restless class, and all the want of
seriousness which belongs to children’s nature, is simply
preposterous. It is the work of home ; of solitude, if pos
sible ; of quiet, if not sombre ; but certainly serious
circumstances. However, that is of no consequence now.
Let the education be conducted at home or at school, it is
generally most pernicious. The catechism most commonly
used in this country (Scotland) is, as everyone knows, the
Assembly’s. Now, I do not speak yet of the truth or untruth
of what it teaches—I speak of the capacity of the child to
comprehend. And I know of no thoughtful person who
would pretend that a boy or girl between eight and sixteen
could comprehend the doctrines, philosophical, metaphysical,
and theological, it contains. Again, I will pass over the
intellectual injury done by teaching a child to handle words
which convey to him no distinct or clear idea ; and I simply
ask, What is the result? It is obvious throughout society.
Children so taught are not even grounded in theology—they
are simply furnished with theological words ; they, therefore,
MS they advance in life, easily become indoctrinated with that
weak, watery, and illogical form of evangelicalism which has
become popular in our pulpits during recent years, and which
is infinitely more detestable than the stern, consistent, daring
Calvinism of the catechism. The last is the system of men
of strong, trained, logical minds ; the first is pure fanaticism.
But, even supposing a child could understand, what would
you have gained in the way of religious education? What
could the knowledge of some 500 (as I have heard say there
are) difficult questions of metaphysics, physics, philosophy,
and theology do towards developing in his nature the feelings
�IO
THE RELIGIOUS EDUCATION OF CHILDREN
of reverence, wonder, love, and dependence? Does feeling
spring forth from metaphysics ; emotion from philosophy ;
love from theology? Divine humanity, how thy history
shudders at the thought I No, it is other things than dry,
intellectual propositions which inspire feeling, and so long
as you are occupying the mind with the propositions of the
catechism you are necessarily keeping the attention from
those other things. And then, when you add to these
considerations the utter falsehood of the theology of the
catechism, the gross and wicked representations it contains
of the character and government of God, and the pernicious
effect this, so far as it is understood and heartily believed,
must have upon the whole character, one is forced to conclude
that the so-called “ religious ” education of the masses of
children in this country is altogether irreligious, and one
continued misnomer and mistake.
There is one other catechism used, upon which I need
here only make but a passing remark. I refer to the
catechism of the Church of England, used in this country
also, I believe, by the Episcopalians. As an epitome of
theology, it is altogether deficient. It has the advantage,
however, of being entirely practical in the body of it, and,
therefore, immeasurably superior to the Assembly’s as a
manual for a child. But then, on the other hand, it begins
and ends with the monstrous notions about the sacraments
which place the system bound up with them on a level with
the magic of the rain-makers of South Africa. I would
rather, however, that children were taught this than to think
of God under the awfully malignant aspects in which he is
represented in the Assembly’s catechism. I have already
referred to the additions which are made to the religious (!)
education of children in some schools by instruction in the
evidences of Christianity, and in the same connection may
be mentioned what is called Bible history. I have shown
you that teaching the evidences is not teaching religion, but
�THE RELIGIOUS EDUCATION OF CHILDREN
ii
the application of the science of historical criticism, and that,
if it be done thoroughly, it requires a knowledge and a
development of faculties no child can possess. And how
Bible history could be thought specially connected with
religion one would be at a loss to imagine, if it were not
for that doctrine of inspiration which is now becoming
rejected by all the more advanced of even the orthodox
school. It is true that Bible history refers all events to the
immediate and direct management of God ; but so do all the
histories of people in their ancient, barbarous state. In the
early histories of Greece and Rome, e.g., the gods were
always interfering as much as in the early history of the
Hebrews, and if this fact constitutes the Bible history
religious, all ancient histories are religious. And then,
while I grant that certain forms of religious feeling may be
excited by some of the facts and events of Bible history, I
must add, they are superstitious and erroneous forms, mostly
connected with that doctrine of a special providence against
which the whole experience of mankind protests. I do not say
anything now about the intellectual mischief done by teaching
Bible history as it stands ; because it is not greater than that
done by teaching the events of the siege of Troy, the
wanderings of Ulysses, and the stories of Romulus and
Remus as true history, excepting, indeed, that the sacred
element mingled with the Bible history renders it more
difficult to discern the purely mythical character of the
narrative.
Well, then, when I consider what religion is, and what is
the formal and systematic education given to a child to culti
vate the religion, I am forced to conclude there is little of a
directly systematic religious character in it; and that what
little there is is of an erroneous character, only leading to
mischief. Parents and teachers substitute theology for reli
gion, and indoctrinate with a theology which I deem utterly
false. But I do not mean that children therefore get no
�12
THE RELIGIOUS EDUCATION OF CHILDREN
religious education. Nature has been to them too bountiful
for that, and begins their education in religion almost as soon
as it is begun in knowledge. She surrounds the child from
its earliest days with objects calling forth its reverence,
wonder, love, dependence, worship, and thus gradually
prepares it for the devout recognition of God. Spontane
ously, Nature furnishes the child with all that is necessary
for the culture of its religious life for many years. First of
all, just as in the Book of Exodus Jehovah is represented as
saying to Moses, “ Lo! I have made thee God unto Pharaoh ”
—z.e., by the miracles he enabled him to work—so Nature
makes the parent God to the child through the miracles of
power, wisdom, and goodness which the parent seems to the
child to display. The parent, if of ordinary attainments and
character, stands up before the child as a mysterious source
of knowledge, wisdom, supply, protection, and happiness—
incomprehensible to it, and calling forth all its wonder and
faith, all its devotion and love, all its reverence and depen
dence. The word of the parent is infallible ; the action of
the parent is necessarily right. He has a seeming omni
potence about him, an irresistible will. What is there a little
child thinks his father cannot do? What is there his mother
does not know? For what of love will he not trust her
wholly? Yes, a little child has nothing greater he could
imagine to make a God out of than the parent. Nothing he
could imagine (seeing it would be but an imagination) could
by any means call forth half the depth and intensity of reli
gious feeling the parent calls forth. Practically the parent is
the young child’s God ; he knows no other, can know no
other; and no other, simply by the knowing, could do him
any good. And when the mother, in her ignorance, takes
him upon her knee and strives to make him understand
about the God she imagines, and is ready, perhaps, to burst
into tears because her efforts are so much in vain, all the
while great Nature is developing the child’s deepest and
�1
THE RELIGIOUS EDUCATION OF CHILDREN
13
truest religious life through the trust and love awakened in
his heart by the light and love which pour into his soul from
her eyes. By and by, however, as the child’s intellectual
nature is developed, the perception dawns upon him that the
parent is not quite so powerful and wise as he had thought.
There are things he cannot do, things he does not know ;
trust gets disappointed, dependence is shaken. Then a
higher object becomes necessary to call forth the perfect
reverence and trust the parent can no longer do ; and,
generally, that object is found in the teacher. I would not
speak with the same certainty with respect to the teachers of
large schools as with regard to those in smaller ones, where
the connection between master and pupil is more intimate.
But in a well-ordered school a boy looks up with profound
reverence and trust to his master, and regards him for long
years as the very embodiment of wisdom and knowledge.
Here again, then, is the provision made in nature for the
direct culture of the religious nature of the child—not by
means of a dogma, but by bringing the mind into contact
with real objects, which necessarily excite those feelings in
the exercise of which religion consists. After a while, how
ever, even the teacher’s wisdom is found sometimes to fail,
and his knowledge to have its soundings. Then the sceptical
period in the child’s mind is renewed. There are, however,
other provisions as useful as these, which, at this later
period, come into more active operation — I refer to the
grander object of Nature herself, ever appearing more grand
and glorious as our knowledge extends. From early years
such objects make some impression on the child, and they
would do more if he had judicious parents to guide his eye
sight. But it is in after years, when science has interpreted
the laws, the order, the forces of these objects to him, that
they make the deepest impression and excite the deepest
reverence, adoration, wonder, and dependence. It is then
that inquiry leads to the perception of the grand and awful
�i4
THE RELIGIOUS EDUCATION OF CHILDREN .
mystery which surrounds the whole universe ; and the mind
takes refuge from its exhausting, fruitless questionings in the
conception of an infinite, efficient, conscious force working in
all and by all. It is at this point religion and theology
mingle, and the latter becomes of any practical service to
the former. For when the active intellect has begun seriously
to inquire into the nature and origin of those deep feelings
which the great objects of the universe, its order, its mystery,
excite, its answers react upon these feelings according to the
attributes with which the answers clothe its conception of that
infinite, efficient Force into which it resolves the whole. If
that force be dealt with subjectively, and so have ascribed to it
human qualities and affections, there results an imagined
object which excites many other feelings besides those of
reverence, wonder, love, and dependence, and which may
degenerate into the lowest forms of superstition to which man
is liable. But if it be dealt with objectively, then it remains
the sublimely generalised conception of all the forces in the
universe, and is known, worshipped, and adored only as it
manifests itself in man and the outer world.
Now, this being the only form in which I can think of
God, the course of the child’s religious education seems to
me very simple. It merely consists in leading him face to
face with those objects which excite religious feeling. First,
as parents, by the development of his own nature to the
highest, preserving his reverence, wonder, love, and depen
dence until the last moment—which is natural ; then, as
teachers, securing his devotion by the real resources of
wisdom and knowledge we have treasured up in ourselves ;
and then, finally, when both these fail—and even concur
rently with them—ever lead him forth to gaze upon those
wondrous objects of which physical nature is full, and those
not less wondrous characters and events of which the history
of humanity is full. And as he gazes and marvels, the
deepest feelings of his being will be stirred, and he will
�THE RELIGIOUS EDUCATION OF CHILDREN
i5
begin to wonder and adore. But wonder and adore what?
At first blindly, and simply instinctively. But if this happen
before his knowledge is matured, he will soon construct for
himself a fetish. It is yours to stand by, and, by means of
clear, intellectual light, beat down the fetish. And so, in the
whole course of his progress, you must help him to destroy
all the false gods he will create for himself whilst attempting
to solve that mystery of Nature which makes him feel so
deeply, until, at last, he come to rest on the only thought
which remains for this and the coming age—a God who is
the all-in-all, ever immanent in all that is, the one absolute
force ; unknown in himself and unknowable, but recognised
and felt in the forces and order of universal Nature. To sum
up, then, I say : Never attempt to give a God to a child until
the child’s nature asks for one. And then your work will be
more destructive than positive—-the destruction of his idols as
he forms them. Leave theology as much as possible alone
until he learns it in history. If, in the meanwhile, you would
have his religious life be growing, reverence, adoration,
wonder, love, and dependence becoming deeper and more
habitual, you must not create for him imaginary beings by
the play of the metaphysical fancy, but you must lead him
to whatever is great, sublime, glorious, and divine in this
universe. To that direct his eye steadily, and by the act you
will place him under the influence of all that has power to
‘ inspire a pure, religious life.
WATTS AND CO., PRINTERS, 17, JOHNSON*S COURT, FLEET STREET, LONDON, E.C.
��
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The religious education of children
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Text
THE POLICY OF
SECULAR EDUCATION
BY
HALLEY
STEWART
President of the Secular Education League
Secular
Education League,
12 PALMER St. 8- W.L
[reprinted,
by kind permission op the editor, prom the
“ NINETEENTH CENTURY AND APTER,” APRIL, 1911 ]
��63)4?
THE POLICY OF SECULAR EDUCATION
HE last Education Bill worthy of the name was that which was
introduced by Mr. Balfour and passed into law in 1902.
Whatever its merits and demerits, it was a measure vitally affecting
the organisation of elementary education in England. It did what
the Conservative party had long aimed at. By placing practically
the whole cost of elementary education upon the rates and taxes it
gave the Church of England schools a fresh lease of life. But it did
something more than that: it abolished the old School Boards, and
placed education under the authority of the Urban and District
Councils. This was a change of the first importance, whether for
good or ill as various sections of the religious world regarded it; a
point with which the present article has no special concern. Mr.
Balfour’s Act profoundly affected the educational system of the
country besides providing large additional funds to meet the
necessities of the Church of England schools, which were being outrivalled by the better-equipped Board schools. Nothing of the kind,
however, can be said of the three Educational Bills of the Liberal
Government introduced by Mr. Birrell, Mr. McKenna, and Mr.
Runciman. Those Bills were simply readjustments of ecclesiastical
control over national education. They might be called redistribu
tions of religious privilege amongst the principal Christian Churches.
The stubborn attitude of the Catholic Church had secured all that it
required, and it was allowed virtually to stand outside the general
system of education and enjoy a contract of its own with the State.
Jews, Agnostics, Secularists, and Ethicists were not thought impor
tant (that is, powerful) enough to trouble about. Eor them there
was the Conscience Clause. There remained, broadly speaking, the
two great antagonists, the Established Church and the non
established Churches, which for this purpose counted as one. It
was substantially their battle. The effect of all three Bills would
have been (1) to make it more difficult for the Established Church
to maintain its elementary schools, and (2) to set up a system of
3
T
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THE POLICY OF SECULAR EDUCATION
religious teaching agreeable to the Free Churches in all the Council
schools throughout the land as a civic religion.
This view of the matter is strenuously and even indignantly
denied by the spokesmen of the Free Churches. They are perfectly
satisfied that the Church of England seeks its own advantage and
nothing else in regard to national education, but they treat it as a.
kind of blasphemy to suggest that the Free Churches are tarred
with the same brush. Gladstone saw clearly enough what the plain
issue was in 1870. For his own part he rather favoured secular
education, and in private he was loud in denouncing “ the popular
imposture of undenominational instruction.”
Lord Morley, in
dealing with the whole controversy over the first Education Act,
does not hesitate to say that “ at bottom the battle of the schools
was not religious, but ecclesiastical.” “ Quarrels about education
and catechism and conscience,” he adds, “ masked the standing
jealousy between Church and Chapel.” “ The parent and the
child,” he notes, “ in whose name the struggle raged, stood indif
ferent.”1 They stand indifferent still. The war over religious
teaching in elementary schools is a clerical war. Even when
School Board elections were heated sectarian quarrels, the great
mass of the ratepayers did not go to the poll. They take less,
rather than more, interest in the quarrel nowadays, for the people
are recognising clericalism as the enemy in every civilised country.
The parents and children are never heard of, except by proxy, in
this dispute, which is carried on exclusively by the representatives
of other interests than theirs. Lord Morley’s quick phrase sums
up the whole matter. The quarrel over education is a quarrel
between Church and Chapel. The choice between the policies of
these rivals is the only one presented to the people in a country
where religious congresses never tire of lamenting that four-fifths
of the adult population seldom or never enter church or chapel.
Politicians are slow to learn, but it should be easy for them tosee that the incubus on education all along has been the assump
tion put forward on behalf of the Churches that it is their right,
in the very nature of things, to have special consideration shown tothem. All the controversy and strife has sprung from this cause.
And the mischief will continue until statesmen learn—and are bold
enough to act on their knowledge—that members of Churches,
however powerful and distinguished, should be treated only ascitizens in regard to all political and social questions. The interests.
1 Life of Gladstone, Vol. II., pp. 306, 307.
�THE POLICY OF SECULAR EDUCATION
5
of their special religious organisations should be nothing to the
State. Fortunately, this view is finding ever wider and wider support
both without and within the Churches. A strenuous effort is being
made to prevent the perpetuation and extension of the odious
injustice which is inflicted by those who secure the propagation of
their own religion in the nation’s schools at the expense of the entire
community. It was for the object of uniting the supporters of this
view in an effective organisation, irrespective of their views on other
matters, that the Secular Education League came into being. The
League neither professes nor entertains any hostility to religion. It
simply regards religion as a personal and private matter, which all
should be free to promote in voluntary associations, but which
should never come under the patronage or control of the State. The
League takes its stand on the principle of citizenship, with freedom
and equality for all in matters that lie beyond. Ministers of religion
sit on the General Council and also on the Executive Committee
with well-known non-Christians. Without the invidiousness of
citing names it may be mentioned that one of the earliest members
of the General Council was the late Mr. George Meredith, and the
first President of the League was Lord Weardale.
The Secular Education League has been boycotted by most of
the newspapers, who have taken sides for Church or Chapel in the
education struggle, and follow the English plan of ignoring, even as
news, what is against their own policy. But no boycott can prevent
the inevitable. The separation of the temporal and spiritual powers
is surely, if slowly, prevailing in every civilised country. It has
dealt with one department of public life after another, and it will
finally settle the question of national education. This has already
happened in France, and we are on the way to it in England. We
are nearer to it, perhaps, than is usually believed. In the article by
the Rev. Professor Inge in the September number of this Review, it
was admitted that “the potential strength of the secularist vote is
far greater than most friends of religious education at all realise.”
“ The danger of complete secularisation,” he said again, “ is far
greater than most religious persons imagine.” The same confession
was made by two other members of the Education Settlement
Committee, writing elsewhere1 in behalf of the programme called
Towards Educational Peace. Dr. M. E. Sadler said that “ strong
forces are pushing English education into secularism.” This was
his opening sentence and the reason of his article. Further on he
Contemporary Review, September, 1909.
�6
THE POLICY OE SECULAR EDUCATION
referred to what might soon be the fate of religious teaching “ if
public opinion once turned decisively towards secular education,”
and added, what to him is evidently the alarming announcement,
that there are many signs that such a change may quickly show
itself.” This statement was even more strongly expressed on a later
page. Dr. Sadler remarked that “ most cool-headed observers who
have travelled in the United States and in the British Colonies
would be inclined to predict that the secular solution is most likely
to be adopted in England as the next step.” “ I am bound to admit
this likelihood,” he said, “ though I deplore it.” The Rev. J. H.
Shakespeare used words very much to the same effect. After
declaring that religious education must and would be preserved ; that
ethics divorced from religion were not only of no value, but posi
tively dangerous; and that the people were dead against secular educa
tion ; to give gravity to his warning of his fellow religionists, and to
justify his own anxiety, he almost involuntarily disclosed the actual
truth.
‘I do not agree with the Gibardian,” he said, “that it
[secular education] is a bogey of which we need not be seriously
alarmed. It has drawn perceptibly nearer. More and more men say
to each other : ‘ We do not wish it or like it, but it is better than this
endless and bitter strife!’”
Not one of these advocates who so dread secular education
definitely assigns any reason against it, but simply expresses his own
preference for religious teaching.
The champions of religious
teaching generally evade the question of principle. They treat
possession as more than nine points of the law. But the question of
principle cannot be evaded in that free-and-easy manner at the bar
of public opinion. The religious educationists will find that they
must give a better reason against secular education than the high
value they themselves set upon their own religion, which, by the
way, they generally assume for the purposes of this controversy is
homogeneous—as if there were no serious differences in doctrine,
and even in ethics, between the various Churches.
What right have they to impose their religious preferences upon
the rest of the community ? On that point the Secular Education
League issues a clear challenge. “ There can be no final solution of
the religious difficulty in national education,” it says in its manifesto,
until the Education Act is amended, so that there shall be no
teaching of religion in State-supported elementary schools in school
hours, or at the public expense.” This is the pivot on which the
whole struggle practically turns.
And the religious educationists
�THE POLICY OF SECULAR EDUCATION
7
will have to face the free and full discussion of the questions (1) why
the schools maintained by all the citizens should be made the homes
of sectarian teaching ? and (2) why religious teaching of any kind
should be supported at the nation’s expense—that is to say, at the
cost of citizens who are irreconcilably opposed to it as false and
harmful, or who, believing in religious teaching, are unalterably
opposed to its compulsory propagation at the national expense ?
But, although the discussion of principle is evaded by all sections
of religious educationists, they have their own peculiar way of
repelling the claims of secular education. That way is twofold,
negative and positive; the former consists in declaring that secular
education is impossible, the latter in declaring that it is mischievous.
Let us see whether it is either.
Mr. Shakespeare represents the politician as “ well aware that
the great mass of the people are dead against what is known as
secular education.” Dr. Inge, however, is of opinion that “ the
working-class parent is not interested in the religious education
controversy.” One would like to know on what basis Mr. Shake
speare makes his assertion. They have never had an opportunity
of accepting or rejecting the policy of secular education. How does
Mr. Shakespeare know what they would do if they had to decide the
question ? He does not point to a single fact in support of his view.
But a striking fact may be pointed to which is dead against his
theory that the mass of the people are dead against secular education.
“ The mass of the people ” is rather an elastic phrase, but it must
surely include the working classes. Now the organised working
classes, assembled in their annual Trade Union Congress, have
repeatedly declared in favour of secular education, and each time by
an overwhelming majority. The majority vote has only once been
less than a million; the minority has never reached a hundred
thousand. Even at the last Congress, when the Catholic delegates
made a pathetic appeal for fair play, and urged that Trade Unions
had nothing to do with religion, and therefore ought not to pass
resolutions against religious education in elementary schools, the
minority vote was only eighty thousand. And that is probably the
high-water mark of this intensely clerical agitation. For it will
certainly be pointed out at the next Congress that this pathetic
appeal of the Catholics for what they call fair play is founded on a
misconception. That the State should have nothing to do with
religion, precisely as Trade Unionism should have nothing to do
with it, is the very ground on which the Congress votes for the
�8
THE POLICY OF SECULAR EDUCATION
exclusion of religious teaching from the State schools. Up to the
present, at any rate, the organised working classes are decisively in
favour of secular education; and this fact plays havoc with Mr.
Shakespeare’s bold assertion. He takes his cue from the oppor
tunism of the hour.
Mr. Joseph Chamberlain, Lord Rosebery,
Lord Morley, the late Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, and other
political leaders, frequently expressed their adherence to the principle
of secular education, although they never did anything for it in
Parliament. As there seems to be a general ignorance of this fact,
a few brief quotations may be permitted. Mr. Chamberlain, address
ing the Liberal Unionists at Birmingham in October, 1902, declared
his adherence to the educational policy that he had propounded
there in 1872 :—
I endeavoured to persuade my countrymen that the only logically just
solution of the great difficulty was that the national schools should confine
themselves entirely to secular instruction, and should have nothing whatever
to do with religious teaching. I should be delighted if I thought that this
were acceptable to the majority of the people.
Lord Rosebery, in his speech at the City Liberal Club in October,
1902, said:—
I suppose the ideal—logical and philosophical—-view of education is that
the State should be solely responsible for secular education, and that the
Churches should be responsible for religious education.
Lord Morley, in his speech at Queen’s Hall on the 20th of March,
1905, said:—
In regard to education, years ago he was in favour of secular, compulsory,
and free education.
Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, in his very important speech at the
Alexandra Palace banquet on the 1st of November, 1902, said:—If we had our way, there would be no religious difficulty at all. We should
confine ourselves (I believe nine-tenths of Liberals would confine themselves)
to secular education, and to such moral precepts as would be common to all,
and would not be obnoxious to people who do not come within the range of
Christianity.
It is well known, in spite of the carefully doctored reports in the
newspapers, that favourable references to secular education in the
Liberal speeches at that time were greeted with enthusiastic applause.
The rank and file of the party appeared to be fairly ripe for the
“ secular solution.” But the party leaders determined otherwise.
They had political reasons for placating the Free Churches, and the
result was Mr. Birrell’s Education Bill. The excuse of the Liberal
leaders was that, although secular education was the wise and just
�THE POLICY OE SECULAR EDUCATION
9
policy, the people would not have it. That pretence has done duty
ever since, and consequently we must not be too severe on Mr.
Shakespeare, whose rash statement has no claim to originality.
So much for the negative objection to secular education; the
positive objection is equally false and far more sinister, and on this
side of their controversial policy the clerical educationists are in
perfect agreement. They rarely make definite statements which can
be challenged and confuted; but they assert, more or less in the
language of innuendo, that secular education, wherever it has been
adopted, has proved itself morally mischievous. This is probably
but a form of the ancient clerical assumption that all persons who
differ from the guardians of the orthodox faith are extremely wicked.
An assumption of that kind has to be more delicately worked now
than it was in former times, when differing from the established
form was too dangerous to be popular. Accordingly we find that
Dr. Inge discreetly drops it altogether. Dr. Sadler handles it very
gingerly. He refers to the “secular solution” as having been
adopted in other parts of the English-speaking world “ not with
auspicious results.” Mr. Shakespeare dogmatises on this matter out
of a full heart, but with a sad lack of knowledge. “ We know,” he
says, “ that in other lands where secular education prevails the
results are deplorable.”
What lands? He does not state. He
rather suggests Australia. “ Australian writers,” he says, “ tell us
of populations growing up without any sense of moral responsibility.”
What writers ? Again he does not state. He is apparently under
the impression that secular education obtains throughout the
Australian continent. Secular education does exist in Victoria;
denominational religious instruction exists in New South Wales, and
undenominational religious instruction in Western Australia; yet
Victoria, according to the official statistics, has far less crime than
New South Wales or Western Australia. Secular education exists
also in New Zealand, and what is the result there ? Sir Robert
Stout, Chief Justice of New Zealand, being in England in 1909 and
interviewed by a Daily News representative on the matter of the
charges made against the morals of his people because of the absence
of religious instruction in the schools, indignantly declared that such
charges were “ false, absolutely false.”
General education of a
purely secular character has obtained in New Zealand for thirty-three
years ; it has worked well, and no serious attempt has been made
to undo it. “ Our teachers inculcate order, obedience, respect for
others,” Sir Robert Stout said, “and the best proof of their success
�10
THE POLICY OF SECULAR EDUCATION
is seen (1) in the diminishing of serious crime, and (2) in the fact
that those trained free from sectarian bias produce only half as many
criminals in proportion to their number as those trained in the
denominational schools.” Sir Robert Stout was unkind enough to
express an unwelcome truth to his interviewer.
“ I see more
practical heathendom in London in one day,” he said, “ than I should
in a New Zealand back block in a year.” So much for the British
Colonies at the Antipodes. Japan and France not being openly
referred to, there is no call to challenge Mr. Shakespeare’s slander on
their behalf. Too much attention, perhaps, has already been paid
to the unsupported assertion of one who sneers at the idea of “a
foundation for morality on rational grounds,” and goes to the length
of saying that ethics divorced from religion are of no value, and
may even be a public danger.” He evidently thinks that there are
many moralities and only one religion. Not so do philosophers
reason. Ruskin taught (in the splendid second chapter of Lectures
on Art) that “there are many religions, but there is only one
morality ”—and that this morality which is natural to all civilised
men, so far from being founded on religion, receives from it “neither
law nor peace, but only hope and felicity.” Moreover, if Mr.
Shakespeare will take the trouble to think it out, he will probably
see that the policy of secular education does not “ divorce ethics
from religion,” but simply separates them in the national schools,
leaving them united in their own sphere—that of the churches,
Sunday-schools, and homes.
The very best things may be
unwelcome when they are out of place, and what can be more out of
place than one man’s religion in a school against the wishes of
another man who is equally compelled to contribute to its main
tenance ?
Having disposed of the two clerical objections to secular educa
tion, we pause to observe two things which the clerical objectorsusually overlook. In the first place, the working-class leaders, who
really value education as the best friend of their order, are anxious
to see the religious quarrel in the schoolroom ended. They know
that it stands in the way of the educational improvement they desire.
It is quite beyond question that the religious quarrel has been a
serious hindrance to the development of national education.
England will never take her proper place in the van of educational
progress until the State leaves religion in the hands of those who
care for it, and organises education on a scientific and civic basis.
The labour leaders see this quite clearly; they are prompted by
�THE POLICY OF SECULAR EDUCATION
11
interest as well as by principle in their support of secular education.
In the second place, the triumph of secular education is certain,
apart altogether from its justice. No other solution of the religious
difficulty is possible. Ecclesiastical quarrels end when public interest
in them ceases, or when there is only one side left in consequence of
the most powerful sect having destroyed or swallowed its rivals.
Such a conclusion is inconceivable in England. There is no one
Church powerful enough to end this controversy. The rivalry has
continued ever since the Education Act of 1870 ; it has grown more
bitter every year, and the relative strength of the Churches remains
practically unchanged.
It was that rivalry, even more than the
formal vote of the House of Lords, that kilLed Mr. Birrell s Education
Bill; and it was owing to that rivalry that the Bills of Mr. McKenna
and Mr. Runciman were still-born. And as the bitter rivalry shows
no signs of ceasing or even abating, and as the Government has
learnt already, through three futile Education Bills, what this really
means in practice—and the English public have learnt it too it is
hardly probable that any fresh effort will be made by the Govern
ment to carry a Religious Education Bill in the midst of sectarian
contentions, with the certainty of gaining more hatred from those it
displeases than gratitude from those it only half satisfies. Some day
or other—and sooner, as Dr. Inge and Dr. Sadler perceive, rathei
than later—the Government will be driven into introducing a Secular
Education Bill (though probably not under that name) as the only
way out of an intolerable situation.
Hope, however, springs eternal in the human breast. A few
ladies and a number of gentlemen, a majority of them ministers of
religion, and drawn mainly from two sections of the English
Protestant community, have constituted themselves a self-appointed
and non-representative body under the name of The Educational
Settlement Committee,” and have published their proposals in a
shilling pamphlet entitled Towards Educational Peace. They go to
work with great seriousness, but in the light of the three educational
fiascos of the Liberal Government their effort is quite comical.
They propose everything that has already failed, and add a few
reactionary or impossible suggestions of their own. It was this
plan of salvation that the Rev. Professor Inge advocated in his
article in this Review.1
Under this precious plan peace is to be secured by one party
1 Nineteenth Century and After, September, 1910.
�12
THE POLICY OF SECULAR EDUCATION
lying quietly down with the other party inside. The chief recom
mendation of the Committee is the perpetuation and extension of the
endowment of religious teaching under the Cowper-Temple Clause.
Religion is to be paid for out of public funds, taught by public
servants, and organised by public machinery. Cowper-Templeism,
however, is opposed to the convictions of millions of Englishmen,
who will not submit either to pay for it or to have it forced upon
their children. The effect of this proposal, if adopted, would be to
intensify the present bitterness and strife, especially as the provision
of religious instruction is left in effect in the hands of every local
education authority. The battle would be transferred from the
school to the county and borough council chambers, and civic
administration and reform would suffer in the strife and confusion
that would inevitably arise. A new establishment of religion under
county and municipal control would be created, and the religious
opinions of candidates, rather than their fitness as administrators of
local affairs, would be the point upon which elections would be fought.
The Committee for Educational Peace propose to leave the Jews
and Catholics with their present privileges untouched. They know
what it would cost the Liberal party to attempt to force the
Catholics into a common general plan of religious education, and
they quietly let discretion stand, in this instance, as the better part
of valour. But all the rest of the nation is to be included.
There is to be ‘respect for all forms of conscientious belief,” but
this new development of Cowper-Templeism is to rule the roost. It
is, indeed, to become the official religion of the nation. And the
teaching of it is to become compulsory. At the present time the
school authorities may confine themselves to secular teaching, as
some of the old School Boards actually did, but this option would
be abolished. The only choice given them under the Committee’s
plan is the provision of Cowper-Temple teaching, or the opening of
their doors to the expert teacher from officially approved denomina
tions. Moreover, the Committee would seek to impose upon the
children an injustice, against which Mr. Birrell expressly provided
m allowing those who took advantage of the Conscience Clause to
absent themselves from school during the time of religious teaching.
This right the Committee would deny. They insist that the child
shall either be present at some religious lessons given by an expert
or be placed in an invidious position before his schoolfellows. The
practical effect of this proposal is to nullify the Conscience Clause.
Every injustice under which the teacher at present suffers the
�THE POLICY OF SECULAR EDUCATION
13
Committee would continue, if not actually increase. Unless he can
satisfy a sectarian committee that he has definite religious convic
tions of the exact colour desired, he is to be denied the right to earn
his living in a large number of State-supported schools. On the
other hand, while a head teacher is to be forbidden to give denomina
tional teaching in which he may possibly believe, he is even
encouraged to give Cowper-Temple teaching, in which he may not
believe. Professor Inge asserts that there are many Agnostics
among otherwise well-qualified elementary teachers.” In both cases
the Committee’s conditions place a premium upon insincerity, which,
to say the least, is an unfortunate outcome of the latest device for
religious teaching. The concession that, on request, a teacher may
be excused from giving religious teaching is futile. No teacher could
make such a request without jeopardising his professional career.
He would be pointed at by the children, ostracised by his colleagues,
and marked by the authorities. He would practically be compelled
either to give religious teaching or sacrifice his career in the profes
sion he had chosen, and for which he had been specially trained.
The Committee treat the parents with as little consideration as
they show to the teachers and the children. To exercise the choice
of school which is, under certain circumstances, given to them would,
in hundreds of villages, endanger their very livelihood.
It would have been very interesting if the Committee had
prepared a specimen syllabus of the religious teaching they propose.
They were wise enough to avoid this pitfail. They know the
advantage of indefiniteness. Consequently they use vague language
about 11 instruction in the Bible and in the principles of the Christian
religion.” Professor Inge puts it as “ instruction in the suitable
parts of the Bible.” Dr. Sadler overlooked that important qualifica
tion. Mr. Shakespeare’s view of the Bible as “ the book of humanity”
—the treasure of the race, the birthright of every English child, the
safeguard and condition of both civil and religious liberty—is entirely
beside the point. Mr. Shakespeare is not a discreet controversialist.
It is not about the children of religious parents who go to church
and Sunday-school that he and his colleagues are troubled, “it is
with the children of the irreligious,” he says, that we are chiefly
concerned.” The object is to snatch them from parental influence
and proselytise them into Cowper-Templeists. But how foolish to
avow it in this incautious manner.
What do the Committee mean by the principles of the Christian
religion ? Have they ever been stated ? Can they ever be stated in
�14
THE POLICY OF SECULAR EDUCATION
a way to command the endorsement even of the Christian Churches
themselves. What is it but the principles (or dogmas) of the
Christian religion that all the Christian Churches are divided over ?
Is it not a poor compliment to suggest that they are divided over
anything else ?
And while they are thus divided is it not an
impertinence for one section of Christians, or a combination of
sections probably not a half in point of numbers, to pose, not only
before the populace but before the State, as custodians of the only
true religion ? And is it not farcical when everyone knows that they
dare not formulate their conviction of what is a common Christianity
for fear of falling into irretrievable disunion ?
The same criticism applies to the Bible. The religious, ethical,
or literary value of the Book is not the point at issue. However
high the position assigned to it, in its entirety it is not a proper text
book for elementary schools. Children are curious, and ask incon
venient questions. Moreover, when one asks what is the Bible, as
one asked what are the principles of the Christian religion, it is easy
enough to point to the Book, but that is not an answer to the
question. The late Rev. Dr. Parker, in a letter to the Times of
October 11, 1894, advocating secular education, uttered a grave
'warning to his fellow Nonconformists on this matter:—■
The present condition of Biblical criticism brings its own difficulties into
this controversy. We cannot shut our eyes to the fact that there is no Bible
upon which all Christian parties are agreed. One party says that surely the
historical parts of the Bible might be read, to which another party replies
that the historical parts of the Bible are especially to be avoided, because they
are critically incorrect, and in many instances glaringly contradictory. One
party says, “ Read the Bible because of its Divine revelations to the human
soul to which another party replies, “ The one thing that is to be distrusted
is the claim on behalf of the supernatural or the ultra-historical.” Some say
“ Read the life of Jesus and others say that there is no trustworthy life of
Jesus to be obtained. To some the Bible is historical; to others it is ideal.
Which Bible, then, or which view of the Bible, is to be recognised in schools
sustained by the compulsory contributions of all classes of the community ?
Dr. Parker’s warning in the name of Biblical criticism is certainly
not less valid than it was seventeen years ago. He was not
answered at the time, he has not been answered since. The sup
porters of State-propagated religion still speak of “ simple Bible
teaching” as if it were really a simple plan of religious instruction.
Widely different views and valuations of the Bible are now enter
tained by scholars and preachers within the Churches themselves;
and all sorts of religious ideas, from orthodoxy to complete
scepticism, are held by thousands of elementary school teachers.
The Book itself is the subject of fierce controversy even among
�THE POLICY OE SECULAR EDUCATION
J-
I
15
Christians, and its interpretation by the teachers is bound to be as
various as their own religious convictions. Undogmatic teaching of
the Bible is, therefore, an utter impossibility. While school teachers
are human beings affected by the mental, moral, and religious agita
tions of the age in which they live, with the Bible in their hand as
an authoritative text-book they must impart to their scholars the
colour of their own faith. There are not a few ministers of religion
connected with the Secular Education League who recognise that,
in relation to national education, Christianity itself is necessarily
sectarianism. They do not wish it to be dealt out to the children in
State doses, and they revolt at the idea of its being dispensed in that
way at the cost of citizens who may be strongly opposed to it.
They hold that it is a mean thing and derogatory to true religion to
drive children to the public schools and endeavour to make them
Christians by the force of authority. As Christian leaders they want
no more than fair play. They have written two tracts for the
Secular Education League—An Appeal by Churchmen to Churchmen
and An Appeal by Nonconformists to Nonconformists—which are
marked by ability and candour.
Somehow or other, and yet it is not altogether strange, it is to
the non-established Churches that we must always turn at the end
of this discussion. Sir Robert Stout uttered memorable words to
his interviewer when he said : The attitude of your Nonconformists
and Liberals in England amazes me. They seek to disestablish a
Church, and yet seek to maintain the State school as the Children’s
Church.” It is not unnatural that a State Church should endeavour
to carry its religious teaching into the State schools. Professor
Inge hails the Anglican schools as “ little citadels of the Established
Church.” But where is the justice or the consistency of those who
are opposed on principle to all Established Churches who seek to
turn all the Council schools of England into State-established
citadels of their religion ? That is what they are doing. They deny
that it is specific Nonconformist religious teaching that is given in
the Council schools, but they cannot deny that it is the religious
teaching that is acceptable to and supported by the non-established
Churches—which, in the circumstances, is practically the same
thing. The fact is that the bulk of the Free Churches went wrong
in 1870. Leading ministers like Drs. Dale and Guinness Rogers,
and leading laymen like Mr. Henry Richard and Mr. Illingworth,
with a substantial following, tried to keep them in the right path,
and failed.
The essential principle for which they stood was
�16
THE POLICY OF SECULAR EDUCATION
betrayed. Those who cried for “ a Free Church in a Free State”
did not realise that the same principle demanded a Free School in a
Free State. Happily many of them have learned the lesson of forty
years strife ; they see the mistake that was made, and desire to undo
it. Happily, too, they are a growing number. And the return of
the non-established Churches to their foundation principle and their
old traditions would achieve a speedy victory for secular education.
THE SECULAR EDUCATION LEAGUE.
President: HALLEY STEWART, Esq.,
j.p.
SECRETARY: H. SNELL, 19 Buckingham Street, London, W.C.
The SECULAR EDUCATION LEAGUE aims at binding together in one effective
organisation all who favour the “Secular Solution” of the Education problem,
without reference to any other convictions—political, social, or religious—that
they may entertain.
Those who desire to see the religious difficulty in national education settled
in the only just and satisfactory way are invited to join the League. The
minimum subscription is One Shilling.
Copies of this Pamphlet for distribution will be supplied on liberal terms on applica
tion to the Secretary.
PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY THE SECULAR- EDUCATION LEAGUE,
19 BUCKINGHAM STREET, STRAND, W.C.
�
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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Title
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The policy of secular education
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Stewart, Halley
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An account of the resource
Place of publication: London
Collation: 16 p. ; 22 cm.
Notes: Includes bibliographical references. Reprinted from 'The nineteenth century and after' April 1911. Stamp inside front cover: Bishopsgate Institute Reference Library, 1 Feb 1998. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
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Secular Education League
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1911
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N626
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Secularism
Education
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English
Education
Education-England-History
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Secularism-Great Britain
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171.4
LVE
—......
=
The
Pleasures of Life
BY
THE RIGHT HON.
SIR JOHN LUBBOCK, BART., M.P.
F.R.S., D.C.L., LL.D.
Volition
MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited
1899
Price Sixpence
�9omp.
‘ Give me Health and a Day, and
I will make the Pomp of Emperors Ridiculous.’—Emerson.
“ As an illustration of the BENEFICIAL EFFECTS
of Eno’s ‘ Fruit Salt,’ I give you particulars of the case
of one of my friends. His whole life was clouded by the
want of vigorous health, and SLUGGISH LIVER and
its concomitant BILIOUS HEADACHES so affected
him, that he was obliged to live upon only a few articles
of diet, and to be most sparing in their use.
This did
nothing in effecting a cure, although persevered in for
some twenty-five years, and also consulting very eminent
members of the faculty.
By the use of your simple
‘Fruit Salt,’ however, he now ENJOYS VIGOROUS
HEALTH, has NEVER had HEADACHE or CONSTI
PATION since he commenced it, and can partake of his
food in such a hearty manner as to afford great satisfac
tion to himself and friends. There are others to whom
your remedy has been SO BENEFICIAL in various kinds
of complaints that I think you may very well extend its
use pro bono publico. I find that it makes a VERY
REFRESHING and INVIGORATING drink.—I remain,
dear Sir, yours faithfully, Veritas.” {From the late Rev.
J. TV. Neil, Holy Trinity Church, North Shields.}
Experience!
‘ Vie Gather the Honey of Wisdom
From Thorns, not from Flowers.’—Lytton.
HOW TO AVOID
The INJURIOUS EFFECTS OF STIMULANTS.
THE PRESENT SYSTEM OF LIVING—
partaking of too rich foods, as pastry, saccharine and fatty
substances, alcoholic drinks, and an insufficient amount of
exercise—FREQUENTLY DERANGES THE LIVER.
I would ADVISE all BILIOUS PEOPLE, unless they are careful to keep the liver acting
freely, to exercise great care in the use of alcoholic drinks; avoid sugar, and always dilute
largely with water.
EXPERIENCE SHOWS that porter, mild ales, port wine, dark
sherries, sweet champagne, liqueurs and brandies, are ALL very APT to DISAGREE;
while light white wines, and gin or old whisky largely diluted with pure mineral water, will
be found the least objectionable. ENO’S ‘ FRUIT SALT ’ is PECULIARLY ADAPTED
for any CONSTITUTIONAL WEAKNESS of the LIVER; it possesses the power of
reparation when digestion has been disturbed or lost, and PLACES the INVALID on the
RIGHT TRACK to HEALTH. A WORLD of WOES is avoided by those who KEEP
and USE ENO’S ‘FRUIT SALT.’
Therefore NO FAMILY SHOULD EVER BE
WITHOUT IT.
THE VALUE OF ENO’S ‘FRUIT SALT’ CANNOT BE TOLD.
Its Success in Europe, Asia, Africa, America, and Australia proves it.
The effect of ENO’S ‘ FRUIT SALT ’ upon any DISORDERED, SLEEPLESS,
and FEVERISH condition of the system is SIMPLY MARVELLOUS. It is, in fact,
NATURE’S OWN REMEDY, and AN UNSURPASSED ONE.
CAUTION.—See Capsule marked ENO'S 1 FRUIT SALT.' Without it you have a WORTHLESS IMITATION.
Prepared only by J. C. ENO, Ltd., at the1 FRUIT SALT ’ WORKS, London, by J. C. ENO’S Patent.
�1
If you want to preserve your hair and prevent baldness
YOU MUST USE
ROWLANDS’ MACASSAR OIL
some kind of grease ; cold water ruins the hair, and most hair restorers dry up
and wither it. All doctors will tell you that:
is the most perfect restorer, preserver, and strengthener of the hair you can use,
and being specially refined and purified, does not have the greasy effect of pomades
o’- other oils. It prevents baldness and eradicates scurf, and is also sold in a GOLDEN COLOUR
for fair and grey hair. Bottles, 3s. 6d., 7s., and 10s. 6d. Sold by Stores and Chemists.
NATIONAL PROVIDENT.
— INSTITUTION. FOR MUTUAL LIFE ASSURANCE.
PROFITS.—The whole are divided amongst the Assured; already divided, £5,400,000.
At the division in 1897 there were nearly 1000 Policies, in respect of which not only were the Premiums
entirely extinguished, but Cash Bonuses were also paid, whilst in the case of many Policies the original sums
assured are now more than doubled by the Bonus Additions.
ENDOWMENT-ASSURANCE POLICIES ARE ISSUED, COMBINING LIFE ASSURANCE AT MINIMUM COST,
WITH PROVISION FOR OLD AGE. The practical effect of these Policies in the National Provident Institution
48
is that the Member’s life is assured until he reaches the age agreed upon, and on his reaching that age the whole of
the Premiums paid are returned to him, and a considerable sum in addition, representing a by no means insignificant
rate of interest on his payments.
Applications for Agencies invited.
Gracechurch 8t., London, E.C.
Arthur smither, Actuary and secretary.
BOOKS OF
^Liberal IReligion.
PHILIP GREEN, 5 Essex Street,
Strand, W.C., will forward, post free,
on application, a NEW CATALOGUE of
BOOKS of LIBERAL RELIGION and
^THEOLOGY, containing Works by Dr.
>hartineau, Stopford A. Brooke, R. A.
Armstrong, J. Estlin Carpenter, Dr.
Brooke Herford, J. W. Chadwick, M. J.
Savage, and other English and American
Unitarian and Liberal Religious Teachers.
NO
HOUSEHOLD
BE
Philip Green, 5 Essex St., Strand, W.C.
WITHOUT
SHOULD
IT.
THE CHEAP EDITIONS OF
MRS. HENRY WOOD’S NOVELS.
Crown 8vo. in green cloth, 2s. each, or in red cloth, gilt lettered, 2s. 6d. each.
SALE OVER TWO MILLION AND A HALF COPIES.
Trevlyn Hold. 65th Thousand.
Court Netherleigh. 46 th Thousand.
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The Channings. 180th Thousand.
Mrs. Halliburton’s Troubles.
150th Thousand.
v."’he Shadow of Ashlydyat.
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Lord Oakbum’s Daughters.
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| Johnny Ludlow. First Series.
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George Canterbury’s Will.
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Edina. 40th Thousand.
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The Story of Charles Strange.
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18th Thousand,
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Johnny Ludlow. Sixth Series.
Pomeroy Abbey. 48th Thousand.
MACMILLAN AND CO., Ltd., LONDON.
70th Thousand.
��PREFACE
Those who have the pleasure of attending the opening meetings of schools and
colleges, and of giving away prizes and certificates, are generally expected at
the same time to offer such words of counsel and encouragement as the ex
perience of the world might enable them to give to those who are entering life.
Having been myself when young rather prone to suffer from low spirits,
I have at several of these gatherings taken the opportunity of dwelling on
the privileges and blessings we enjoy, and I reprint here the substance of
some of these addresses (omitting what was special to the circumstances of
each case, and freely making any alterations and additions which have since
occurred to me), hoping that the thoughts and quotations in which I have
myself found most comfort may perhaps be of use to others also.
- It is hardly necessary to say that I have not by any means referred to
all the sources of happiness open to us, some indeed of the greatest pleasures
and blessings being altogether omitted.
In reading over the proofs I feel that some sentences may appear too
dogmatic, but I hope that allowance will be made for the circumstances under
which they were delivered.
High Elms,
Down, Kent, January 1887.
�PREFACE
TO THE TWENTIETH EDITION
A lecture which I delivered three years ago at the Working Men’s College, and
which forms the fourth chapter of this book, has given rise to a good deal of
discussion. The Pall Mall Gazette took up the subject and issued a circular to many
of those best qualified to express an opinion. This elicited many interesting replies,
and some other lists of books were drawn up. When my book was translated, a
similar discussion took place in Germany. The result has been very gratifying, and
after carefully considering the suggestions which have been made, I see no reason
for any material change in the first list. I had not presumed to form a list of my
own, nor did I profess to give my own favourites. My attempt was to give those
most generally recommended by previous writers on the subject. In the various
criticisms on my list, while large additions, amounting to several hundred works in
all, have been proposed, very few omissions have been suggested. As regards those
v orks with reference to which some doubts have been expressed—namely, the few
Oriental books, Wake’s Apostolic Fathers, etc.—I may observe that I drew up the
list, not as that of the hundred best books, but, which is very different, of those
which have been most frequently recommended as best worth reading.
For instance as regards the Shelving and the Analects of Confucius°I must-humbly
confess that I do not greatly admire either ; but I recommended them because they
are held in the most profound veneration by the Chinese race, containing 400,000,000
of our fellow-men. I may add that both works are quite short.
The Ramayana and Maha Bliarata (as epitomised by Wheeler) and St. Hilaire’s
Bouddha are not only very interesting in themselves, but very important in reference
to our great oriental Empire.
The authentic writings of the Apostolic Fathers are very short, being indeed
comprised in one small volume, and as the only works (which have come down to
us) of those who lived with and knew the Apostles, they are certainly well worth
reading.
I have been surprised at the great divergence of opinion which has been expressed.
Nine lists of some length have been published. These lists contain some three
hundred works not mentioned by me (without, however, any corresponding omissions),
and yet there is not one single book which occurs in every list, or even in half of
them, and only about half a dozen which appear in more than one of the nine.
If these authorities, or even a majority of them, had concurred in their recom
mendations, I would have availed myself of them ; but as they differ so greatly I
will allow my list to remain almost as I first proposed it. I have, however, added
Kalidasa’s Safomfato or The Lost Ring, and Schiller’s Wilhelm Tell, omitting, in
consequence, Lucretius and Miss Austen : Lucretius because though his work is most
remarkable, it is perhaps too difficult and therefore less generally suitable than most
of the others in the list; and Miss Austen because English novelists were somewhat
over-represented.
High Elms,
Down, Kent, August 1890.
�CONTENTS
PART I
CHAP.
*
PAGE
I. The Duty
of
II. The Happiness
III. A Song
of
of
V. The Blessing
VI.The
.
.
Friends
.
Value of Time
VII. The Pleasures
VIII. The Pleasures
IX.Science
.
.
Books
of
1
...
Duty ......
of
Books
IV. The Choice
.
Happiness
of
of
.
.
.13
.
.
.
17
.
.
.
.
.22
.
.
.
.
.25
-
.
28
Travel
.
.
.
.
.
Home
.
.
.
.
.32
........
X. Education
7
.
.
.
.
.
36
.42
�‘ All places that the eye of Heaven visits
Are to the wise man ports and happy havens.”
Shakespeare.
“ Some murmur, when their sky is clear
And wholly bright to view,
If one small speck of dark appear
In their great heaven of blue.
And some with thankful love are fill’d
If but one streak of light,
One ray of God’s good mercy gild
The darkness of their night.
‘ ‘ In palaces are hearts that ask,
In discontent and pride,
Why life is such a dreary task,
And all good things denied.
And hearts in poorest huts admire
How love has in their aid
(Love that not ever seems to tire)
Such rich provision made.”
Trench.
�THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
PART I
CHAPTER I
THE DUTY OF HAPPINESS1
“ If a man is unhappy, this must be his own
fault; for God made all men to be happy.”—
Epictetus.
Life is a great gift, and as we reach
years of discretion, we most of us natur
ally ask ourselves what should be the
main object of our existence. Even those
who do not accept “the greatest good
of the greatest number” as an absolute
rule, will yet admit that we should all
endeavour to contribute as far as we may
to the happiness of others. There are
many, however, who seem to doubt
whether it is right that we should try to
be happy ourselves. Our own happiness
ought not, of course, to be our main
object, nor indeed will it ever be secured
if selfishly sought. We may have many
pleasures in life, but must not let them
have rule over us, or they will soon hand
us over to sorrow; and “ into jvhat
dangerous and miserable servitude doth
he fall who suffereth pleasures and
sorrows (two unfaithful and cruel com
manders) to possess him successively 1” 2
I cannot, however, but think that the
world would be better and brighter if our
teachers would dwell on the Duty of
Happiness as well as on the Happiness of
Duty; for we ought to be as cheerful as
we can, if only because to be happy our
selves, is a most effectual contribution to
the happiness of others.
1 The substance of this was delivered at the
Harris Institute, Preston.
2 Seneca.
B
Every one must have felt that a cheer
ful friend is like a sunny day, shedding
brightness on all around ; and most of
us can, as we choose, make of this world
either a palace or a prison.
There is no doubt some selfish satisfac
tion in yielding to melancholy, and fancy
ing that we are victims of fate ; in brood
ing over grievances, especially if more or
less imaginary. To be bright and cheer
ful often requires an effort; there is a
certain art in keeping ourselves happy :
and in this respect, as in others, we re
quire to watch over and manage ourselves,
almost as if we were somebody else.
Sorrow and joy, indeed, are strangely
interwoven. Too often
“We look before and after,
And pine for wliat is not:
Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught ;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest
thought. ”1
As a nation we are prone to melancholy.
It has been said of our countrymen that
they take even their pleasures sadly.
But this, if it be true at all, will, I hope,
prove a transitory characteristic. “ Merry
England ” was the old saying ; let us hope
it may become true again. We must look
to the East for real melancholy. What
can be sadder than the lines with which
Omar Khayyam opens his quatrains : 2
“ We sojourn here for one short day or two,
And all the gain we get is grief and woe ;
And then, leaving life’s problems all unsolved
And harassed by regrets, we have to go ; ”
1 Shelley.
2 I quote from Whinfield’s translation.
IE
�2
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
PART I
or the Devas’ song to Prince Siddartha, inherit ; the glories and beauties of the
in Edwin Arnold’s beautiful version :
Universe, which is our own if we choose
to have it so ; the extent to which we can
‘ ‘ We are the voices of tlie wandering wind,
Which moan for rest, and rest can never find. make ourselves what we wish to be ; or
Lo ! as the wind is, so is mortal life—
the power we possess of securing peace, of
A moan, a sigh, a sob, a storm, a strife. ”
triumphing over pain and sorrow.
If this indeed be true, if mortal life
Dante pointed to the neglect of oppor
be so sad and full of suffering, no wonder tunities as a serious fault:
that Nirvana—the cessation of sorrow—
“Man can do violence
should be welcomed even at the sacrifice
To himself and his own blessings, and for this
of consciousness.
He, in the second round, must aye deplore,
With unavailing penitence, his crime.
But ought we not to place before our
Whoe’er deprives himself of life and light
selves a very different ideal—a healthier,
In reckless lavishment his talent wastes,
manlier, and nobler hope ?
And sorrows then when he should dwell in joy.”
Life is not to live merely, but to live
Ruskin has expressed this with special
well. There are some “ who live without
any design at all, and only pass in the allusion to the marvellous beauty of this
world like straws on a river : they do not glorious world, too often taken as a matter
go ; they are carried,”1—-but as Homer of course, and remembered, if at all, al
makes Ulysses say, “ How dull it is to most without gratitude. “ Holy men,” he
pause, to make an end, to rest un complains, “in the recommending of the
burnished ; not to shine in use — as love of God to us, refer but seldom to those
things in which it is most abundantly and
though to breathe were life ! ”
Goethe tells us that at thirty he resolved immediately shown; though they insist
“ to work out life no longer by halves, much on His giving of bread, and raiment,
and health (which He gives to all inferior
but in all its beauty and totality.”
creatures): they require us not to thank
“Im Ganzen, Guten, Schonen
Him for that glory of His works which
Resolut zu leben.”
He has permitted us alone to perceive :
Life indeed must be measured by
they tell us often to meditate in the closet,
thought and action, not by time. It
but they send us not, like Isaac, into the
certainly may be, and ought to be, bright,
fields at even : they dwell on the duty of
interesting, and happy ; for, according to
self-denial, but they exhibit not the duty
the Italian proverb, “ if all cannot live on
of delight: ” and yet, as he justly says
the Piazza, every one may feel the sun.”
elsewhere, “ each of us, as we travel the
If we do our best; if we do not mag
way of life, has the choice, according to
nify trifling troubles ; if we look resolutely,
our working, of turning all the voices of
I do not say at the bright side of things,
Nature into one song of rejoicing ; or of
but at things as they really are ; if we
withering and quenching her sympathy
avail ourselves of the manifold blessings
into a fearful withdrawn silence of con
which surround us ; we cannot but feel
demnation,—into a crying out of her
that life is indeed a glorious inheritance.
stones and a shaking of her dust against
“ More servants wait on man
us.”
Than he’ll take notice of. In every path
Must we not all admit, with Sir Henry
lie treads down that which doth befriend
Taylor, that “the retrospect of life swarms
him
When sickness makes him pale and wan. with lost opportunities ” ? “ Whoever en
Oh mighty Love ! Man is one world, and hath joys not life,” says Sir T. Browne, “ I
Another to attend him.” 2
count him but an apparition, though he
Few of us, however, realise the wonder wears about him the visible affections of
ful privilege of living, or the blessings we flesh.”
St. Bernard, indeed, goes so far as to
1 Seneca.
2 Herbert.
�CHAP. I
THE DUTY OF HAPPINESS
3
and that “ rather than follow a multitude
to do evil,” one should “ stand like Pom
pey’s pillar, conspicuous by oneself, and
single in integrity.” 1 But to many this
isolation would be itself most painful, for
the heart is “ no island cut off from other
lands, but a continent that joins to them.”2
If we separate ourselves so much from
the interests of those around us that we
do not sympathise with them in their
sufferings, we shut ourselves out from
sharing their happiness, and lose far more
than we gain. If we avoid sympathy
and wrap ourselves round in a cold chain
armour of selfishness, we exclude ourselves
from many of the greatest and purest joys
of life. To render ourselves insensible to
pain we must forfeit also the possibility
of happiness.
Moreover, much of what we call evil
is really good in disguise, and we should
not “ quarrel rashly with adversities not
yet understood, nor overlook the mercies
often bound up in them.” 3 Pleasure and
pain are, as Plutarch says, the nails which
fasten body and soul together. Pain is
a signal of danger, a very necessity of
existence. But for it, but for the warnings
which our feelings give us, the very bless
ings by ■which we are surrounded would
soon and inevitably prove fatal. Many
of those who have not studied the question
are under the impression that the more
deeply-seated portions of the body must
be most sensitive. The very reverse is
the case. The skin is a continuous and
ever-watchful sentinel, always on guard
to give us notice of any approaching
danger ; while the flesh and inner organs,
where pain would be without purpose,
“ Unaffrighted by the silence round them,
Undistracted by the sights they see,
are, so long as they are in health, com
These demand not that the things without paratively without sensation.
them
“We talk,” says Helps, “of the origin
Yield them love, amusement, sympathy.
of evil ; . . . but what is evil ? We mostly
Bounded by themselves, and unobservant
speak of sufferings and trials as good, per
In what state God’s other works may be,
haps, in their result ; but we hardly
In their own tasks all their powers pouring,
These attain the mighty life you see.”
admit that they may be good in them
selves. Yet they are knowledge—how
It is true that
else to be acquired, unless by making
“ A man is his own star ;
maintain that “nothing can work me
damage except myself; the harm that I
sustain I carry about with me, and never
am a real sufferer but by my own fault.”
Some Heathen moralists also have
taught very much the same lesson. “ The
gods,” says Marcus Aurelius, “ have put all
the means in man’s power to enable him
not to fall into real evils. Now that
which does not make a man worse, how
can it make his life worse ? ”
Epictetus takes the same line : “ If a
man is unhappy, remember that his un
happiness is his own fault; for God has
made all men to be happy.” “ I am,” he
elsewhere says, “ always content with that
which happens ; for I think that what
God chooses is better than what I choose.”
And again : “ Seek not that things should
happen as you wish ; but wish the things
which happen to be as they are, and you
will have a tranquil flow of life. ... If
you wish for anything which belongs to
another, you lose that which is your own.”
Few, however, if any, can I think go
as far as St. Bernard. We cannot but
suffer from pain, sickness, and anxiety;
from the loss, the unkindness, the faults,
even the coldness of those we love. How
many a day has been damped and dark
ened by an angry word !
Hegel is said to have calmly finished
his Phaenomenologie des Geistes at Jena, on
the 14th October 1806, not knowing any
thing whatever of the battle that was
raging round him.
Matthew Arnold has suggested that we
might take a lesson from the heavenly
bodies.
Our acts our angels are
For good or ill,”
1 Sir T. Browne.
2 Bacon.
3 Sir T. Browne.
�4
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
men. as gods, enabling them to understand
without experience. All that men go
through may be absolutely the best for
them—no such thing as evil, at least in
our customary meaning of the word.”
Indeed, “ the vale best discovereth the
hill,” 1 and “ pour sentir les grands biens,
il faut qu’il connoisse les petits maux.” 2
But even if we do not seem to get all
that we should wish, many will feel, as
in Leigh Hunt’s beautiful translation of
Filicaja’s sonnet, that —
“ So Providence for us, high, infinite,
Makes our necessities its watchful task,
Hearkens to all our prayers, helps all our wants,
And e’en if it denies what seems our right,
Either denies because ’twould have us ask,
Or seems but to deny, and in denying grants.”
Those on the other hand who do not
accept the idea of continual interferences,
will rejoice in the belief that on the whole
the laws of the Universe work out for
the general happiness.
And if it does come—
“ Grief should be
Like joy, majestic, equable, sedate,
Confirming, cleansing, raising, making free :
Strong to consume small troubles; to commend
Great thoughts, grave thoughts, thoughts last
ing to the end.” 3
If, however, we cannot hope that life
will be all happiness, we may at least
secure a heavy balance on the right side ;
and even events which look like mis
fortune, if boldly faced, may often be
turned to good. Oftentimes, says Seneca,
“calamity turns to our advantage; and
great ruins make way for greater glories.”
Helmholtz dates his start in science to
an attack of illness. This led to his
acquisition of a microscope, which he was
enabled to purchase, owing to his having
spent his autumn vacation of 1841 in the
hospital, prostrated by typhoid fever ;
being a pupil, he was nursed without
expense, and on his recovery he found
himself in possession of the savings of
his small resources.
“ Savonarola,” says Castelar, “ would,
1 Bacon.
2 Rousseau.
3 Aubrey de Vere.
PART I
under different circumstances, undoubtedly
have been a good husband, a tender
father; a man unknown to history,
utterly powerless to print upon the sands
of time and upon the human soul the
deep trace which he has left : but mis
fortune came to visit him, to crush his
heart, and to impart that marked melan
choly which characterises a soul in grief;
and the grief that circled his brows with
a crown of thorns was also that which
wreathed them with the splendour of
immortality.
His hopes were centred
in the woman he loved, his life was set
upon the possession of her, and when her
family finally rejected him, partly on
account of his profession, and partly on
account of his person, he believed that it
was death that had come upon him, when
in truth it was immortality.”
It is, however, impossible to deny the
existence of ewl, and the reason for it
has long exercised the human intellect.
The Savage solves it by the supposition of
evil Spirits. Even the Greeks attributed
the misfortunes of men in great measure
to the antipathies and jealousies of gods
and goddesses.
Others have imagined
two Celestial Beings, opposite and an
tagonistic—the one friendly, the other
hostile, to men.
Freedom of action, however, seems to
involve the existence of evil. If any
power of selection be left us, much must
depend on the choice we make. In the
very nature of things, two and two cannot
make five. Epictetus imagines Jupiter
addressing man as follows : “ If it had
been possible to make your body and
your property free from liability to injury,
I would have done so. As this could not
be, I have given you a small portion of
myself.”
This divine gift it is for us to use
wisely. It is, in fact, our most valuable
treasure. “ The soul is a much better
thing than all the others which you
possess. Can you then show me in what
way you have taken care of it ? For it
is not likely that you, who are so wise a
man, inconsiderately and carelessly allow
�THE DUTY OF HAPPINESS
CHAP. I
the most valuable thing that you possess
to be neglected and to perish.” 1
Moreover, even if evil cannot be alto
gether avoided, it is no doubt true that
not only whether the life we lead be good
and useful, or evil and useless, but also
whether it be happy or unhappy, is very
much in our own power, and depends
greatly on ourselves. “ Time alone re
lieves the foolish from sorrow, but reason
the wise,”2 and no one was ever yet
made utterly miserable excepting by him
self. We are, if not the masters, at any
rate almost the creators of ourselves.
With most of us it is not so much great
sorrows, disease, or death, but rather the
little “daily dyings” which cloud over
the sunshine of life.
Many of our
troubles are insignificant in themselves,
and might easily be avoided L
How happy home might generally be
made but for foolish quarrels, or mis
understandings, as they are well named !
It is our own fault if we are querulous or
ill-humoured ; nor need we, though this
is less easy, allow ourselves to be made
unhappy by the querulousness or illhumours of others.
Much of what we suffer we have
brought on ourselves, if not by actual
fault, at least by ignorance or thought
lessness. Too often we think only of the
happiness of the moment, and sacrifice
that of the life. Troubles comparatively
seldom come to us, it is we who go to
them. Many of us fritter our life away.
La Bruyere says that “ most men spend
much of their lives in making the rest
miserable • ” or, as Goethe puts it:
“ Careworn man has, in all ages,
Sown vanity to reap despair.”
Not only do we suffer much in the
anticipation of evil, as “ Noah lived many
years under the affliction of a flood, and
Jerusalem was taken unto Jeremy before
it was besieged,” but we often distress
ourselves greatly in the apprehension of
misfortunes which after all never happen
at all. We should do our best and wait
1 Epictetus.
2 Ibid.
5
calmly the result. We often hear of
people breaking down from overwork,
but in nine cases out of ten they are
really suffering from worry or anxiety.
“Nos maux moraux,” says Rousseau,
“ sont tous dans 1’opinion, hors un seul,
qui est le crime ; et celui-la depend de
nous : nos maux physiques nous detruisent, ou se detruisent. Le temps, ou la
mort, sont nos remedes.”
“ Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
Which we ascribe to heaven.” 1
This, however, applies to the grown up.
With children of course it is different.
It is customary, but I think it is a mistake,
to speak of happy childhood. Children
are often over-anxious and acutely sensi
tive. Man ought to be man and master
of his fate ; but children are at the mercy
of those around them. Mr. Rarey, the
great horse-tamer, has told us that he has
known an angry word raise the pulse of
a horse ten beats in a minute. Think
then how it must affect a child !
It is small blame to the young if they
are over-anxious ; but it is a danger to be
striven against. “ The terrors of the storm
are chiefly felt in the parlour or the
cabin.” 2
To save ourselves from imaginary, or
at any rate problematical, evils, we often
incur real suffering. “The man,” said
Epicurus, “who is not content with little
is content with nothing.” How often do
we “ labour for that which satisfieth not.”
More than we use is more than we need,
and only a burden to the bearer.3 We
most of us give ourselves an immense
amount of useless trouble ; encumber our
selves, as it were, on the journey of life
with a dead weight of unnecessary bag
gage ; and as “a man maketh his train
longer, he makes his wings shorter.” 4 In
that delightful fairy tale, Alice through
the Looking-Glass, the “ White Knight ” is
described as having loaded himself on
starting for a journey with a variety of
odds and ends, including a mousetrap, lest
1 Shakespeare.
3 Seneca.
2 Emerson.
4 Bacon.
�6
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
PART I
he should be troubled by mice at night,
“ How is it possible,” he says, “ that a
and a bee-hive in case he came across a Inan who has nothing, who is naked,
swarm of bees.
houseless, without a hearth, squalid, with
Hearne, in his Journey to the Mouth of out a slave, without a city, can pass a life
the Coppermine River, tells us that a few that flows easily ? See, God has sent you
days after starting on his expedition he a man to show you that it is possible.
met a party of Indians, who annexed a Look at me, who am without a city,
great deal of his property, and all Hearne without a house, without possessions,
says is, “ The weight of our baggage being without a slave ; I sleep on the ground ;
so much lightened, our next day’s journey I have no wife, no children, no prsetorium,
was much pleasanter.” I ought, however, but only the earth and heavens, and one
to add that the Indians broke up the poor cloak. And what do I want ? Am
philosophical instruments, which,no doubt, I not without sorrow ? Am I not with
were rather an encumbrance.
out fear ? Am I not free ? When did
When troubles do come, Marcus Aur any of you see me failing in the object of
elius wisely tells us to “ remember on my desire ? or ever falling into that which
every occasion which leads thee to vex I would avoid ? Did I ever blame God
ation to apply this principle, that this is or man ? Did I ever accuse any man ?
not a misfortune, but that to bear it nobly Did any of you ever see me with a
is good fortune.” Our own anger indeed sorrowful countenance ? And how do I
does us more harm than the thing which meet with those whom you are afraid of
makes us angry; and we suffer much and admire ? Do not I treat them like
more from the anger and vexation which slaves ? Who, when he sees me, does not
we allow acts to rouse in us, than we do think that he sees his king and master ? ”
from the acts themselves at which we are
Think how much we have to be
angry and vexed. How much most people, thankful for. Few of us appreciate the
for instance, allow themselves to be dis number of our everyday blessings; we
tracted and disturbed by quarrels and look on them as trifles, and yet “ trifles
family disputes. Yet in nine cases out make perfection, and perfection is no
of ten one ought not to suffer from being trifle,” as Michael Angelo said. We for
found fault with. If the condemnation is get them because they are always with
just, it should be welcome as a warning ; us ; and yet for each of us, as Mr. Pater
if it is undeserved, why should we allow well observes, “ these simple gifts, and
it to distress us 1
others equally trivial, bread and wine,
Moreover, if misfortunes happen we do fruit and milk, might regain that poetic
but make them worse by grieving over and, as it were, moral significance which
them.
surely belongs to all the means of our
“ I must die,” says Epictetus. “ But daily life, could we but break through the
must I then die sorrowing ? I must be veil of our familiarity with things by no
put in chains. Must I then also lament? means vulgar in themselves.”
I must go into exile. Can I be prevented
“Let not,” says Isaak Walton, “the
from going with cheerfulness and con blessings we receive daily from God make
tentment ? But I will put you in prison. us not to value or not praise Him because
Man, what are you saying ? You may they be common; let us not forget to
put my body in prison, but my mind not praise Him for the innocent mirth and
even Zeus himself can overpower.”
pleasure we have met with since we met
If, indeed, we cannot be happy, the together. What would a blind man give
fault is generally in ourselves. Socrates to see the pleasant rivers and meadows
lived under the Thirty Tyrants. Epic and flowers and fountains ; and this and
tetus was a poor slave, and yet how much many other like blessings we enjoy daily.”
we owe him !
Contentment, we have been told by
�CHAP. I
THE HAPPINESS OF DUTY
Epicurus, consists not in great wealth, but
in few wants. In this fortunate country,
however, we may have many wants, and
yet, if they are only reasonable, we may
gratify them all.
Nature indeed provides without stint
the main requisites of human happiness.
“.To watch the corn grow, or the blossoms
set; to draw hard breath over plough
share or spade ; to read, to think, to love,
to pray,” these, says Ruskin, “ are the
things that make men happy.”
“ I have fallen into the hands of
thieves,” says Jeremy Taylor ; “ what
then ? They have left me the sun and
moon, fire and water, a loving wife and
many friends to pity me, and some to
relieve me, and I can still discourse ; and,
unless I list, they have not taken away
my merry countenance and my cheerful
spirit and a good conscience. . . . And
he that hath so many causes of joy, and
so great, is very much in love with
sorrow and peevishness who loses all
these pleasures, and chooses to sit down
on his little handful of thorns.”
“ When a man has such things to think
on, and sees the sun, the moon, and stars,
and enjoys earth and sea, he is not
solitary or even helpless.” 1
“ Paradise indeed might,” as Luther
said, “apply to the whole world.” What
more is there we could ask for ourselves ?
“Every sort of beauty,” says Mr. Greg,2
“has been lavished on our allotted home ;
beauties to enrapture every sense, beauties
to satisfy every taste • forms the noblest
and the loveliest, colours the most
gorgeous and the most delicate, odours
the sweetest and subtlest, harmonies the
most soothing and the most stirring : the
sunny glories of the day; the pale
Elysian grace of moonlight; the lake, the
mountain, the primeval forest, and the
boundless ocean; ‘ silent pinnacles of
aged snow ’ in one hemisphere, the
marvels of tropical luxuriance in another ;
the serenity of sunsets; the sublimity of
storms ; everything is bestowed in bound
less profusion on the scene of our exist1 Epictetus,
? The Enigmas of Life.
7
ence ; we can conceive or desire nothing
more exquisite or perfect than what is
round us every hour; and our percep
tions are so framed as to be consciously
alive to all. The provision made for our
sensuous enjoyment is in overflowing
abundance ; so is that for the other
elements of our complex nature. Who
that has revelled in the opening ecstasies
of a young Imagination, or the rich
marvels of the world of Thought, does not
confess that the Intelligence has been
dowered at least with as profuse a benefi
cence as the Senses ? Who that has truly
tasted and fathomed human Love in its
dawning and crowning joys has not
thanked God for a felicity which indeed
‘passeth understanding.’ If we had set
our fancy to picture a Creator occupied
solely in devising delight for children
whom he loved, we could not conceive
one single element of bliss which is not
here.”
CHAPTER II
THE HAPPINESS OF DUTY1
“I am always content with that which
happens ; for I think that what God chooses is
better than what I choose.”
Epictetus.
“ 0 God, All conquering ! this lower earth
Would be for men the blest abode of mirth
If they were strong in Thee
As other things of this world well are seen ;
Oh then, far other than they yet have been,
How happy would men be.”
King Alfred’s ed. of Boethius’s
Consolations of Philosophy.
We ought not to picture Duty to our
selves, or to others, as a stern taskmistress.
She is rather a kind and sympathetic
mother, ever ready to shelter us from the
cares and anxieties of this world, and to
guide us in the paths of peace.
To shut oneself up from mankind i°,
in most cases, to lead a dull, as well as a
selfish life. Our duty is to make ourselves
useful, and thus life may be made most
1 The substance of this was delivered at the
Harris Institute, Preston.
�8
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
PART I
interesting, while yet comparatively free if we have done our best to make others
from anxiety.
happy; to promote “ peace on earth and
But how can we fill our lives with life, goodwill amongst men.” Nothing, again,
energy, and interest, and yet keep care can do more to release us from the cares
outside ?
of this world, which consume so much of
Many great men have made shipwreck our time, and embitter so much of our
in the attempt. “ Anthony sought for life. When we have done our best, we
happiness in love ; Brutus in glory; Cfesar should wait the result in peace ; content,
in dominion : the first found disgrace, the as Epictetus says, “with that which
second disgust, the last ingratitude, and happens, for what God chooses is better
each destruction.” 1 Riches, again, often than what I choose.”
bring danger, trouble, and temptation ■
At any rate, if we have not effected all
they require care to keep, though they we wished, we shall have influenced our
may give much happiness if wisely spent. selves. It may be true that one cannot
How then is this great object to be do much. “You are not Hercules, and
secured ? What, says Marcus Aurelius, you are not able to purge away the wicked
“ What is that which is able to conduct ness of others ; nor yet are you Theseus,
a man ? One thing and only one—philo able to drive away the evil things of
sophy. But this consists in keeping the Attica. But you may clear away your
daemon 2 within a man free from violence own. From yourself, from your own
and unharmed, superior to pains and thoughts, cast away, instead of Procrustes
pleasures, doing nothing without a pur and Sciron,1 sadness, fear, desire, envy,
pose, yet not falsely and with hypocrisy, malevolence, avarice, effeminacy, intem
not feeling the need of another man’s perance. But it is not possible to eject
doing or not doing anything ; and besides, these things otherwise than by looking to
accepting all that happens, and all that God only, by fixing your affections on
is allotted, as coming from thence, where- Him only, by being consecrated by His
ever it is, from whence he himself came ; commands.” 2
and, finally, waiting for death with a
Duty does not imply restraint. People ’
cheerful mind, as being nothing else than sometimes think how delightful it would
a dissolution of the elements of which be to be quite free. But a fish, as Ruskin
every living being is compounded.” I con says, is freer than a man, and as for a fly,
fess I do not feel the force of these last few it is “a black incarnation of freedom.”
words, which indeed scarcely seem requisite A life of so-called pleasure and self-indul
for his argument. The thought of death, gence is not a life of real happiness or
however, certainly influences the conduct true freedom. Far from it, if we once
of life less than might have been expected. begin to give way to ourselves, we fall
Bacon truly points out that “there is under a most intolerable tyranny. Other
no passion in the mind of man so weak, temptations are in some respects like that
but it mates and masters the fear of of drink. At first, perhaps, it seems
death. . . . Revenge triumphs over death, delightful, but there is bitterness at the
love slights it, honour aspireth to it, grief bottom of the cup. Men drink to satisfy
flieth to it.”
the desire created by previous indulgence.
So it is in other things. Repetition soon
“Think not I dread to see my spirit fly
Through the dark gates of fell mortality;
becomes a craving, not a pleasure. Re
Death has no terrors when the life is true ;
sistance grows more and more painful;
’Tis living ill that makes us fear to die.” 3
yielding, which at first, perhaps, afforded
We need certainly have no such fear some slight and temporary gratification,
1 Colton, Lacon, or Many Things in Few soon ceases to give pleasure, and even if
JFotyZs.
2 J.e. spirit.
I
3 Omar Khayyam.
1 Two robbers destroyed by Theseus.
2 Epictetus.
�CHAP. II
THE HAPPINESS OF DUTY
9
for a time it procures relief, ere long have of the Universe must in some measure
damp personal ambition. What it is to be
becomes odious itself.
To resist is difficult, to give way is pain king, sheikh, tetrarch, or emperor over a
ful ; until at length the wretched victim ‘ bit of a bit ’ of this little earth ? ” “ All
to himself can only purchase, or thinks rising to great place,” says Bacon, “ is by
he can only purchase, temporary relief from a winding stair; ” and “ princes are like
intolerable craving and depression, at the heavenly bodies, which have much vener
expense of even greater suffering in the ation, but no rest.”
Plato in the Republic mentions an old
future.
On the other hand, self-control, how myth that after death every soul has to
ever difficult at first, becomes step by step choose a lot in life for the existence in the
easier and more delightful. We possess next world ; and he tells us that the wise
mysteriously a sort of dual nature, and Ulysses searched for a considerable time
there are few truer triumphs, or more for the lot of a private man. He had
delightful sensations, than to obtain some difficulty in finding it, as it was lying
neglected in a corner, but when he had
thorough command of oneself.
How much pleasanter it is to ride a secured it he was delighted ; the recollec
spirited horse, even perhaps though requir tion of all he had gone through on earth
ing some strength and skill, than to creep having disenchanted him of ambition.
along upon a jaded hack. In the one
Moreover, there is a great deal of
case you feel under you the free, re drudgery in the lives of courts. Cere
sponsive spring of a living and willing monials may be important, but they take
force ; in the other you have to spur a up much time and are terribly tedious.
dull and lifeless slave.
A man then is his own best kingdom.
To rule oneself is in reality the greatest “ He that ruleth his spirit,” says
triumph. “ He who is his own monarch,” Solomon, “ is better than he that taketh
says Sir T. Browne, “ contentedly sways a city.” But self-control, this truest and
the sceptre of himself, not envying the greatest monarchy, rarely comes by in
glory to crowned heads and Elohim of the heritance. Every one of us must conquer
earth ; ” for those are really highest who himself; and we may do so, if we take
are nearest to heaven, and those are low conscience for our guide and general.
est who are farthest from it.
No one really fails who does his best.
True greatness has little, if anything, Seneca observes that “no one saith the
to do with rank or power. “ Eurystheus three hundred Fabii were defeated, but
being what he was,” says Epictetus, “ was that they were slain,” and if you have
not really king of Argos nor of Mycenee, done your best, you will, in the words of
for he could not even rule himself ; while an old Norse ballad, have gained
Hercules purged lawlessness and intro
“ Success in thyself, which is best of all.”
duced justice, though he was both naked
and alone.”
Being myself engaged in business, I was
We are told that Cineas the philosopher rather startled to find it laid down by no
once asked Pyrrhus what he would do less an authority than Aristotle (almost as
when he had conquered Italy. “ I will if it were a self-evident proposition) that
conquer Sicily.” “And after Sicily?” commerce “ is incompatible with that
“ Then Africa.” “ And after you have dignified life which it is to be wished that
conquered the world ? ” “I will take my our citizens should lead, and totally ad
ease and be merry.” “ Then,” asked verse to that generous elevation of mind
Cineas, “ why can you not take your ease with which it is our ambition to inspire
and be merry now ? ”
them.” I know not how far that may
Moreover, as Sir Arthur Helps has really have been the spirit and tendency
wisely pointed out, “ the enlarged view we of commerce among the ancient Greeks;
�IO
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
but if so, I do not wonder that it was not
more successful.
I may, indeed, quote Aristotle against
himself, for he has elsewhere told us that
“business should be chosen for the sake
of leisure ; and things necessary and useful
for the sake of the beautiful in conduct.”
It is not true that the ordinary duties
of life in a country like ours—agriculture,
manufactures, and commerce,—the pur
suits to which the vast majority are and
must be devoted—are incompatible with
the dignity or nobility of life. Whether
a life is noble or ignoble depends, not on
the calling which is adopted, but on the
spirit in which it is followed. The
humblest life may be noble, while that of
the most powerful monarch or the greatest
genius may be contemptible. Commerce,
indeed, is not only compatible, but I
would almost go further and say that it
will be most successful, if carried on in
happy union with noble aims and generous
aspirations. What Ruskin says of art is,
with due modification, true of life gener
ally. It does not matter whether a man
“ paint the petal of a rose or the chasms
of a precipice, so that love and admiration
attend on him as he labours, and wait for
ever on his work. It does not matter
whether he toil for months on a few
inches of his canvas, or cover a palace
front with colour in a day ; so only that
it be with a solemn purpose, that he have
filled his heart with patience, or urged his
hand to haste.’’
It is true that in a subsequent volume
he refers to this passage, and adds, “ But
though all is good for study, and all is
beautiful, some is better than the rest for
the help and pleasure of others ; and this
it is our duty always to choose if we have
opportunity,” adding, however, “ being
quite happy with what is within our
reach if we have not.”
We read of and admire the heroes of
old, but every one of us has to fight his
ow’n Marathon and ThermopyIse ; every
one meets the Sphinx sitting by the road
he has to pass ; to each of us, as to
Hercules, is offered the choice of Vice or
PART I
Virtue; we may, like Paris, give the apple
of life to Venus, or Juno, or Minerva.
There are many who seem to think that
we have fallen on an age in the world
when life is especially difficult and anxious,
when there is less leisure than of yore,
and the struggle for existence is keener
than ever.
On the other hand, we must remember
how much we have gained in security?
It may be an age of hard work, but -when
this is not carried to an extreme, it is by
no means an evil. If we have less leisure,
one reason is because life is so full of
interest. Cheerfulness is the daughter of
employment, and on the whole I believe
there never was a time when modest
merit and patient industry were more
sure of reward.
We must not, indeed, be discouraged if
success be slow in coming, nor puffed up
if it comes quickly. We often complain
of the nature of things when the fault is
all in ourselves. Seneca, in one of his
letters, mentions that his wife’s maid,
Harpaste, had nearly lost her eyesight,
but “ she knoweth not she is blind, she
saith the house is dark. This that seemeth
ridiculous unto us in her, happeneth unto
us all. No man understandeth that he is
covetous, or avaricious. He saith, I am
not ambitious, but no man can otherwise
live in Rome ; I am not sumptuous, but
the city requireth great expense.”
Newman, in perhaps the most beautiful
of his hymns, “ Lead, kindly light,” says :
“ Keep thou my feet, I do not ask to see
The distant scene ; one step enough for me. ”
But we must be sure that we are really
following some trustworthy guide, and not
out of mere laziness allowing ourselves to
drift. We have a guide within us which
will generally lead us straight enough.
Religion, no doubt, is full of difficulties,
but if we are often puzzled what to think,
we need seldom be in doubt what to do.
“ To say well is good, but to do well is better ;
Do well is the spirit, and say well the letter ;
If do well and say well were fitted in one frame,
All were won, all were done, and. got were all
the gain.”
�THE HAPPINESS OF DUTY
CHAP. II
il
Cleanthes, who appears to have well every fourth. But if you have inter
merited the statue erected to him at mitted thirty days, make a sacrifice to
God. For the habit at first begins to be
Assos, says :
weakened, and then is completely de
“ Lead me, 0 Zeus, and thou, 0 Destiny,
stroyed. When you can say, ‘ I have not
The way that I am bid by you to go :
To follow I am ready. If I choose not,
been vexed to-day, nor the .day before, nor
I make myself a wretch ;—and still must yet on any succeeding day during two or
follow.”
three months ; but I took care when some
If we are ever in doubt what to do, it exciting things happened,’ be assured that
is a good rule to ask ourselves what we you are in a good way.” 1
Emerson closes his Conduct of Life
shall wish on the morrow that we had
with a striking allegory.
The young
done.
Moreover, the result in the long run Mortal enters the Hall of the Firmament.
will depend not so much on some single The Gods are sitting there, and he is
resolution, or on our action in a special alone with them. They pour on him
case, but rather on the preparation of gifts and blessings, and beckon him to
daily life. Battles are often won before their thrones. But between him and
they are fought. To control our passions them suddenly appear snow-storms of
we must govern our habits, and keep illusions. He imagines himself in a vast
watch over ourselves in the small details crowd, whose behests he fancies he must
obey. The mad crowd drives hither and
of everyday life.
The importance of small things has thither, and sways this way and that.
been pointed out by philosophers over What is he that he should resist ? He
and over again from jEsop downwards. lets himself be«carried about. How can
“ Great without small makes a bad wall,” he think or act for himself? But the
says a quaint Greek proverb, which seems clouds lift, and there are the Gods still
to go back to cyclopean times. In an old sitting on their thrones ; they alone with
Hindoo story Ammi says to his son, him alone.
“ The great man,” he elsewhere says,
“ Bring me a fruit of that tree and break
it open. What is there ? ” The son said, “is he who in the midst of the crowd
“ Some small seeds.” “ Break one of keeps with perfect sweetness the serenity
them and what do you see ? ” “ Nothing, of solitude.”
We may all, indeed, if we will, secure
my lord.”
“ My child,” said Ammi,
“where you see nothing there dwells a peace of mind for ourselves.
“ Men seek retreats,” says Marcus Au
mighty tree.” It may almost be questioned
whether anything can be truly called relius, “ houses in the country, sea-shores,
and mountains ; and thou too art wont
small.
to desire such things very much. But
“ There is no great and no small
this is altogether a mark of the most
To the soul that maketh all ;
common sort of men ; for it is in thv
And where it cometh all things are,
And it cometh everywhere.” 1
power whenever thou shalt choose, to
We should therefore watch ourselves in retire into thyself. For nowhere either
small things. If “ you wish not to be of with more quiet or more freedom from
an angry temper, do not feed the habit: trouble does a man retire, than into his
throw nothing on it which will increase own soul, particularly when he has within
it: at first keep quiet, and count the days him such thoughts that by looking into
on which you have not been angry. I them he is immediately in perfect tran
used to be in a passion every day ; now quillity.”
Happy indeed is he who has such a
every second day ; then every third ; then
sanctuary in his own soul. “He who is
1 Emerson.
1 Epictetus.
�12
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
virtuous is wise ; and he who is wise is
good ; and he who is good is happy.” 1
But we cannot expect to be happy if
we do not lead pure and useful lives. To
be good company for ourselves we must
store our minds well ; fill them with pure
and peaceful thoughts ; with pleasant
memories of the past, and reasonable
hopes for the future. We must, as far
as may be, protect ourselves from selfreproach, from care, and from anxiety. We
shall make our lives pure and peaceful,
by resisting evil, by placing restraint upon
our appetites, and perhaps even more by
strengthening and developing our tend
encies to good. We must be careful, then,
on what we allow our minds to dwell.
The soul is dyed by its thoughts; we
cannot keep our minds pure if we allow
them to be sullied by detailed accounts
of crime and sin. Peace of mind, as
Ruskin beautifully observes, “ must come
in its own time, as the waters settle
themselves into clearness as well as quiet
ness ; you can no more filter your mind
into purity than you can compress it into
calmness ; you must keep it pure if you
would have it pure, and throw no stones
into it if you would have it quiet.”
The penalty of injustice, said Socrates,
is not death or stripes, but the fatal neces
sity of becoming more and more unjust.
Few men have led a wiser or more
virtuous life than Socrates himself, of
whom Xenophon gives us the following
description :—“ To me, being such as I
have described him, so pious that he did
nothing without the sanction of the gods;
so just, that he wronged no man even in
the most trifling affair, but was of service
in the most important matters to those
who enjoyed his society ; so temperate
that he never preferred pleasure to virtue;
so wise, that he never erred in distinguish
ing better from worse ; needing no counsel
from others, but being sufficient in himself
to discriminate between them ; so able to
explain and settle such questions by argu
ment ; and so capable of discerning the
character of others, of confuting those
1 King Alfred’s Boethius.
PART I
who were in error, and of exhorting them
to virtue and honour, he seemed to be
such as the best and happiest of men
would be. But if any one disapproves
of my opinion let him compare the con
duct of others with that of Socrates, and
determine accordingly.”
Marcus Aurelius again has drawn for us
a most instructive lesson in his character
of Antoninus:—“Remember his constancy
in every act which was conformable to
reason, his evenness in all things, his
piety, the serenity of his countenance,
his sweetness, his disregard of empty
fame, and his efforts to understand things ;
how he would never let anything pass
without having first most carefully ex
amined it and clearly understood it ; how
he bore with those who blamed him
unjustly without blaming them in return;
how he did nothing in a hurry; how he
listened not to calumnies, and how exact
an examiner of manners and actions he
was ; not given to reproach people, nor
timid, nor suspicious, nor a sophist; with
how little he was satisfied, such as lodging,
bed, dress, food, servants ; how laborious
and patient ; how sparing he was in his
diet; his firmness and uniformity in his
friendships ; how he tolerated freedom of
speech in those who opposed his opinions;
the pleasure that he had when any man
showed him anything better ; and how
pious he was without superstition. Imi
tate all this that thou mayest have as
good a conscience, when thy last hour
comes, as he had.”
Such peace of mind is indeed an in
estimable boon, a rich reward of duty
fulfilled. Well then does Epictetus ask,
“Is there no reward? Do you seek a
reward greater than that of doing what
is good and just ? At Olympia you wish
for nothing more, but it seems to you
enough to be crowned at the games.
Does it then seem to you so small and
worthless a thing to be good and happy?”
In Bernard of Morlaix’s beautiful
lines —
“ Pax erit ilia fidelibus, ilia beata
Irrevocabilis, Invariabilis, Intemerata.
�A SONG OF BOOKS
CHAP. Ill .
13
Pax sine crimine, pax sine turbine, pax sine himself to-be a zealous follower of truth,
rixa,
of happiness, of wisdom, of science, or
Meta Laboribus, inque tumultibus anchora
even of the faith, must of necessity make
fixa ;
Pax erit omnibus unica. Sed quibus ? Im- himself a lover of books.” But if the
maculatis
debt were great then, how much more
Pectore niitibus, ordine stantibus, ore sacratis.” now.
What greater reward can we have than
this ; than the “peace which passeth all
understanding,” which “ cannot be gotten
for gold, neither shall silver be weighed
for the price thereof.” 1
CHAPTER III
A SONG OF BOOKS2
“ Oil for a booke and a sliadie nooke,
Eyther in doore or out;
With the grene leaves whispering overhead
Or the streete cryes all about.
Where I maie reade all at my ease,
Both of the newe and old ;
For a jollie goode booke whereon to looke,
Is better to me than golde.”
Old English Song.
Of all the privileges we enjoy in this
nineteenth century there is none, perhaps,
for which we ought to be more thankful
than for the easier access to books.
The debt we owe to books -was well
expressed by Richard de Bury, Bishop of
Durham, author of Philobiblon, written
as long ago as 1344, published in 1473,
and the earliest English treatise on the
delights of literature :—“ These,” he says,
“ are the masters who instruct us without
rods and ferules, without hard words and
anger, without clothes or money. If you
approach them, they are not asleep; if
investigating you interrogate them, they
conceal nothing ; if you mistake them,
they never grumble ; if you are ignorant,
they cannot laugh at you. The library,
therefore, of wisdom is more precious
than all riches, and nothing that can be
wished for is worthy to be compared with
it. Whosoever therefore acknowledges
1 Job.
2 Delivered at the Working Men’s College.
This feeling that books are real friends
is constantly present to all who love read
ing. “ I have friends,” said Petrarch,
“ whose society is extremely agreeable to
me ; they are of all ages, and of every
country. They have distinguished them
selves both in the cabinet and in the
field, and obtained high honours for their
knowledge of the sciences. It is easy to
gain access to them, for they are always
at my service, and I admit them to my
company, and dismiss them from it,
whenever I please. They are never
troublesome, but immediately answer every
question I ask them. Some relate to me
the events of past ages, while others
reveal to me the secrets of Nature. Some
teach me how to live, and others how to
die. Some, by their vivacity, drive away
my cares and exhilarate my spirits ; while
others give fortitude to my mind, and
teach me the important lesson how to
restrain my desires, and to depend wholly
on myself. They open to me, in short,
the various avenues of all the arts and
sciences, and upon their information I
may safely rely in all emergencies. In
return for all their services, they only ask
me to accommodate them with a con
venient chamber in some corner of my
humble habitation, where they may
repose in peace; for these friends are
more delighted by the tranquillity of
retirement than with the tumults of
society.”
“ He that loveth a book,” says Isaac
Barrow, “ will never want a faithful
friend, a wholesome counsellor, a cheer
ful companion, an effectual comforter.
By study, by reading, by thinking, one
may innocently divert and pleasantly
entertain himself, as in all weathers, so
in all fortunes.”
Southey took a rather more melancholy
view :
�THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
“My days among the dead are pass’d,
Around me I_beliold,
Where’er these casual eyes are cast,
The mighty minds of old;
My never-failing friends are they,
With whom I converse day by day.”
Imagine, in the words of Aikin, “ that
we had it in our power to call up the
shades of the greatest and wisest men
that ever existed, and oblige them to con
verse with us on the most interesting
topics—what an inestimable privilege
should we think it !—how superior to all
common enjoyments! But in a wellfurnished library we, in fact, possess this
power. We can question Xenophon and
Csesar on their campaigns, make Demos
thenes and Cicero plead before us, join in
the audiences of Socrates and Plato, and
receive demonstrations from Euclid and
Newton. In books we have the choicest
thoughts of the ablest men in their best
dress.”
“Books,” says Jeremy Collier, “are a
guide in youth and an entertainment for
age. They support us under solitude,
and keep us from being a burthen to
ourselves. They help us to forget the
crossness of men and things ; compose
our cares and our passions ; and lay our
disappointments asleep. When we are
weary of the living, we may repair to
the dead, who have nothing of peevish
ness, pride, or design in their conversa
tion.”
Sir John Herschel tells an amusing
anecdote illustrating the pleasure derived
from a book, not assuredly of the first
order. In a certain village the black
smith having got hold of Richardson’s
novel, Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded, used
to sit on his anvil in the long summer
evenings and read it aloud to a large and
attentive audience. It is by no means a
short book, but they fairly listened to it
alL At length, when the happy turn of
fortune arrived, which brings the hero
and heroine together, and sets them living
long and happily together according to
the most approved rules, the congregation
were so delighted as to raise a great shout,
PART I
and procuring the church keys, actually
set the parish bells a-ringing.
“The lover of reading,” says Leigh
Hunt, “will derive agreeable terror from
Sir Bertram and the Haunted Chamber;
will assent with delighted reason to every
sentence in Mrs. Barbauld’s Essay; will
feel himself wandering into solitudes with
Gray; shake honest hands with Sir Roger
de Coverley; be ready to embrace Parson
Adams, and to chuck Pounce out of the
window instead of the hat ; will travel
with Marco Polo and Mungo Parle; stay
at home with Thomson; retire with
Cowley; be industrious with Hutton;
sympathising with Gay and Mrs. Inch
bald; laughing with (and at) Buncle;
melancholy, and forlorn, and self-restored
with the shipwrecked mariner of De Foe.”
Carlyle has wisely said that a collection
of books is a real university.
The importance of books has been
appreciated in many quarters where we
might least expect it. Among the hardy
Norsemen runes were supposed to be
endowed with miraculous power. There
is an Arabic proverb, that “a wise man’s
day is worth a fool’s life,” and another—
though it reflects, perhaps, rather the
spirit of the Califs than of the Sultans,—
that “ the ink of science is more precious
than the blood of the martyrs.”
Confucius is said to have described
himself as a man who “ in his eager pur
suit of knowledge forgot his food, who
in the joy of its attainment forgot his
sorrows, and did not even perceive that
old age was coming on.”
Yet, if this could be said by the Arabs
and the Chinese, what language can be
strong enough to express the gratitude we
ought to feel for the advantages we enjoy !
We do not appreciate, I think, our good
fortune in belonging to the nineteenth
century. Sometimes, indeed, one may
even be inclined to wish that one had not
lived quite so soon, and to long for a
glimpse of the books, even the school
books, of one hundred years hence. A
hundred years ago not only were books
extremely expensive and cumbrous, but
�CHAP .III
A SONG OF BOOKS
many of the most delightful were still
uncreated—such as the works of Scott,
Thackeray, Dickens, Shelley, and Byron,
not to mention living authors. How
much more interesting science has become
especially, if I were to mention only one
name, through the genius of Darwin!
Renan has characterised this as a most
amusing century; I should rather have
described it as most interesting : present
ing us as it does with an endless vista of
absorbing problems ; with infinite oppor
tunities ; with more interest and less
danger than surrounded our less fortunate
ancestors.
Cicero described a room without books,
as a body without a soul. But it is by no
means necessary to be a philosopher to
love reading.
Reading, indeed, is by no means neces
sarily study. Far from it. “ I put,” says
Mr. Frederic Harrison, in his excellent
article on the “ Choice of Books,” “ I
put the poetic and emotional side of
literature as the most needed for daily
use.”
In the prologue to the Legende of Goode
Women, Chaucer says :
“ And as for me, though that I konne but lyte,
On bokes for to rede I me delyte,
And to him give I feyth and ful credence,
And in myn herte have him in reverence,
So hertely, that tlier is game noon,
That fro my bokes maketh me to goon,
But yt be seidome on the holy day,
Save, certynly, when that the monthe of May
Is comen, and that I here the foules synge,
And that the floures gynnen for to sprynge,
Farwel my boke and my devocion.”
But I doubt whether, if he had enjoyed
our advantages, he could have been so
certain of tearing himself away, even in
the month of May.
Macaulay, who had all that wealth and
fame, rank and talents could give, yet, we
are told, derived his greatest happiness
from books. Sir G. Trevelyan, in his
charming biography, says that—“of the
feelings which Macaulay entertained to
wards the great minds of bygone ages it is
not for any one except himself to speak.
He has told us how his debt to them was
IS
incalculable; how they guided him to
truth; how they filled his mind with
noble and graceful images ; how they stood
by him in all vicissitudes—comforters in
sorrow, nurses in sickness, companions in
solitude, the old friends who are never
seen with new faces ; who are the same in
wealth and in poverty, in glory and in
obscurity. Great as were the honours and
possessions which Macaulay acquired by his
pen, all who knew him were well aware
that the titles and rewards which he gained
by his own works were as nothing in the
balance compared with the pleasure he
derived from the works of others.”
There was no society in London so agree
able that Macaulay would have preferred
it at breakfast or at dinner “ to the com
pany of Sterne or Fielding, Horace Wal
pole or Boswell.” The love of reading
which Gibbon declared he would not ex
change for all the treasures of India was,
in fact, with Macaulay “ a main element of
happiness in one of the happiest lives that
it has ever fallen to the lot of the bio
grapher to record.”
“History,” says Fuller, “maketh a
young man to be old without either
wrinkles or gray hair, privileging him
with the experience of age without either
the infirmities or the inconveniences
thereof.”
So delightful indeed are books that we
must be careful not to forget other duties
for them; in cultivating the mind we
must not neglect the body.
To the lover of literature or science,
exercise often presents itself as an irksome
duty, and many a one has felt like “ the
fair pupil of Ascham (Lady Jane Grey),
who, while the horns were sounding and
dogs in full cry, sat in the lonely oriel,
with eyes riveted to that immortal page
which tells how meekly and bravely
(Socrates) the first martyr of intellectual
liberty took the cup from his weeping
jailer.” 1
Still, as the late Lord Derby justly ob
served,2 those who do not find time for
1 Macaulay.
2 Address, Liverpool College, 1873.
�i6
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
exercise will have to find time for ill
ness.
Books, again, are now so cheap as to be
within the reach of almost every one.
This was not always so. It is quite a
recent blessing. Mr. Ireland, to whose
charming little Book Lover's Enchiridion,
in common with every lover of reading, I
am greatly indebted, tells us that when
a boy he was so delighted with White’s
Natural History of Selborne, that in order
to possess a copy of his own he actually
copied out the whole work.
Mary Lamb gives a pathetic description
of a studious boy lingering at a bookstall :
“ I saw a boy with eager eye
Open a book upon a stall,
And read, as he’d devour it all;
Which, when the*stall man did espy,
Soon to the boy I heard him call,
‘ You, sir, you never buy a book,
Therefore in one you shall not look.’
The boy passed slowly on, and with a sigh
He wished he never had been taught to read,
Then of the old churl’s books he should have
had no need.”
Such snatches of literature have, indeed,
a special and peculiar charm. This is, I
believe, partly due to the very fact of
their being brief. Many readers miss
much of the pleasure of reading by forceing themselves to dwell too long con
tinuously on one subject. In a long
railway journey, for instance, many persons
take only a single book. The consequence
is that, unless it is a story, after half an
hour or an hour they are quite tired of it.
Whereas, if they had two, or still better
three books, on different subjects, and one
of them of an amusing character, they
would probably find that, by changing as
soon as they felt at all weary, they would
come back again and again to each with
renewed zest, and hour after hour would
pass pleasantly away. Every one, of
course, must judge for himself, but such
at least is my experience.
I quite agree, therefore, with Lord
Iddesleigh as to the charm of desultory
reading, but the wider the field the more
important that we should benefit by the
very best books in each class. Not that we
PART I
need confine ourselves to them, but that
we should commence with them, and they
will certainly lead us on to others. There
are of course some books which we must
read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest.
But these are exceptions. As regards by
far the larger number, it is probably
better to read them quickly, dwelling only
on the best and most important passages.
In this way, no doubt, we shall lose much,
but we gain more by ranging over a wider
field. We may, in fact, I think, apply to
reading Lord Brougham’s wise dictum as
regards education, and say that it is well
to read everything of something, and
something of everything. In this way
only we can ascertain the bent of our
own tastes, for it is a general, though not
of course an invariable, rule, that we
profit little by books which we do not enjoy.
Every one, however, may suit himself.
The variety is endless.
Not only does a library contain “in
finite riches in a little room,” 1 but we
may sit at home and yet be in all quarters
of the earth. We may travel round the
world with Captain Cook or Darwin,
with Kingsley or Ruskin, who will show
us much more perhaps than ever we
should see for ourselves.
The world
itself has no limits for us ; Humboldt
and Herschel will carry us far away to
the mysterious nebulas, beyond the sun
and even the stars : time has no more
bounds than space; history stretches out
behind us, and geology will carry us back
for millions of years before the creation
of man, even to the origin of the material
Universe itself. Nor are we limited to
one plane of thought.
Aristotle and
Plato will transport us into a sphere none
the less delightful because we cannot
appreciate it without some training.
Comfort and consolation, peace and
happiness, may indeed be found in his
library by any one “ who shall bring the
golden key that unlocks its silent door.” 2
A library is true fairyland, a very palace
of delight, a haven of repose from the
storms and troubles of the world. Rich
1 Marlowe.
2 Matthews.
�THE CHOICE OF BOOKS
CHAP. IV
and poor can enjoy it alike, for here, at
least, wealth gives no advantage. We
may make a library, if we do but rightly
use it, a true paradise on earth, a garden
of Eden without its one drawback ; for
all is open to us, including, and especially,
the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, for
which we are told that our first mother
sacrificed all the Pleasures of Paradise.
Here we may read the most important
histories, the most exciting volumes of
travels and adventures, the most interest
ing stories, the most beautiful poems ; we
may meet the most eminent statesmen,
poets, and philosophers, benefit by the
ideas of the greatest thinkers, and enjoy
the grandest creations of human genius.
CHAPTER IV
THE CHOICE OF BOOKS 1
“ All round the room my silent servants wait—
My friends in every season, bright and dim,
Angels and Seraphim
Come down and murmur to me, sweet and low,
And spirits of the skies all come and go
Early and Late.”
Proctor.
And yet too often they wait in vain.
One reason for this is, I think, that people
are overwhelmed by the crowd of books
offered to them.
In old days books were rare and dear.
Now on the contrary, it may be said with
greater truth than ever that
“Words are things, and a small drop of ink,
Falling like dew upon a thought, produces
That which makes thousands, perhaps millions,
think.”2
Our ancestors had great difficulty in pro
curing books. Ours now is what to select.
We must be careful what we read, and
not, like the sailors of Ulysses, take bags
of wind for sacks of treasure—not only
lest we should even now fall into the
error of the Greeks, and suppose that
1 Delivered at the London Working Men’s
College.
2 Byron.
c
17
language and definitions can be instru
ments of investigation as well as of
thought, but lest, as too often happens,
we should waste time over trash. There
are many books to which one may apply,
in the sarcastic sense, the ambiguous
remark which Lord Beaconsfield made to
an unfortunate author, “ I will lose no
time in reading your book.”
There are, indeed, books and books ;
and there are books which, as Lamb said,
are not books at all. It is wonderful
how much innocent happiness we thought
lessly throw away. An Eastern proverb
says that calamities sent by heaven may
be avoided, but from those we bring on
ourselves there is no escape.
Many, I believe, are deterred from
attempting what are called stiff books for
fear they should not understand them ;
but there are few* who need complain of
the narrowness of their minds, if only
they would do their best with them.
In reading, however, it is most im
portant to select subjects in which one is
interested. I remember years ago con
sulting Mr. Darwin as to the selection of
a course of study. He asked me what
interested me most, and advised me to
choose that subject. This, indeed, applies
to the work of life generally.
I am sometimes disposed to think that
the great readers of the next generation
will be, not our lawyers and doctors,
shopkeepers and manufacturers, but the
labourers and mechanics. Does not this
seem natural1? The former work mainly
with their head ; when their daily duties
are over, the brain is often exhausted, and
of their leisure time much must be de
voted to air and exercise. The labourer
and mechanic, on the contrary, besides
working often for much shorter hours,
have in their work-time taken sufficient
bodily exercise, and could therefore give
any leisure they might have to reading
and study. They have not done so as
yet, it is true ; but this has been for
obvious reasons. Now, however, in the
first place, they receive an excellent edu
cation in elementary schools, and in the
�i8
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
second have more easy access to the best
books.
Ruskin has observed that he is not sur
prised at what men suffer, but he often
wonders at what they lose. We suffer
much, no doubt, from the faults of others,
but we lose much more by our own
ignorance.
“ If,” says Sir John Herschel, “ I were
to pray for a taste which should stand
me in stead under every variety of cir
cumstances, and be a source of happiness
and cheerfulness to me through life, and
a shield against its ills, however things
might go amiss and the world frown upon
me, it would be a taste for reading. I
speak of it of course only as a worldly
advantage, and not in the slightest degree
as superseding or derogating from the
higher office and surer and stronger
panoply of religious principles—but as
a taste, an instrument, and a mode of
pleasurable gratification.
Give a man
this taste, and the means of gratifying it,
and you can hardly fail of making a
happy man, unless, indeed, you put into
his hands a most perverse selection of
books.”
It is one thing to own a library ; it
is quite another to use it wisely. I
have often been astonished how little care
people devote to the selection of ■what
they read. Books, we know, are almost
innumerable ; our hours for reading are,
alas ! very few. And yet many people
read almost by hazard. They will take
any book they chance to find in a room
at a friend’s house ; they will buy a novel
at a railway-stall if it has an attractive
title ; indeed, I believe in some cases even
the binding affects their choice.
The
selection is, no doubt, far from easy. I
have often wished some one would re
commend a list of a hundred good books.
If we had such lists drawn up by a few
good guides they would be most useful.
I have indeed sometimes heard it said
that in reading every one must choose for
himself, but this reminds me of the re
commendation not to go into the water
till you can swim.
PART I
In the absence of such lists I have
picked out the books most frequently
mentioned with approval by those who
have referred directly or indirectly to the
pleasure of reading, and have ventured to
include some which, though less frequently
mentioned, are especial favourites of my
own. Every one who looks at the list
will wish to suggest other books, as indeed
I should myself, but in that case the
number would soon run up.1
I have abstained, for obvious reasons,
from mentioning works by living authors,
though from many of them I have myself
derived the keenest enjoyment; and I
have omitted works on science, with one
or two exceptions, because the subject is
so progressive.
I feel that the attempt is over bold,
and I must beg for indulgence, while
hoping for criticism ; indeed one object
which I have had in view is to stimu
late others more competent than I am to
give us the advantage of their opinions.
Moreover, I must repeat that I suggest
these works rather as those which, as far
as I have seen, have been most frequently
recommended, than as suggestions of my
own, though I have slipped in a few of
my own special favourites.
In any such selection much weight
should, I think, be attached to the general
verdict of mankind. There is a “ struggle
for existence ” and a “ survival of the
fittest” among books, as well as among
animals and plants. As Alonzo of Aragon
said, “Age is a recommendation in four
things—old wood to burn, old wine to
drink, old friends to trust, and old books
to read.” Still, this cannot be accepted
without important qualifications.
The
most recent books of history and science
contain, or ought to contain, the most
accurate information and the most trust
worthy conclusions. Moreover, while the
1 Several longer lists have been given ; for
instance, by Comte, Catechism of Positive Philo
sophy ; Pycroft, Course of English Pleading;
Baldwin, The, Book Lover; Perkins, The Best
Reading ; and by Ireland, Books for General
Readers.
�CHAP. IV
THE CHOICE OF BOOKS
books of other races and times have an
interest from their very distance, it must
be admitted that many will still more
enjoy, and feel more at home with, those
of our own century and people.
Yet the oldest books of the world are
remarkable and interesting on account
of their very age; and the works which
have influenced the opinions, or charmed
the leisure hours, of millions of men in
distant times and far-away regions are
well worth reading on that very account,
even if to us they seem scarcely to deserve
their reputation.
It is true that to
many, such works are accessible only in
translations ; but translations, though
they can never perhaps do justice to the
original, may yet be admirable in them
selves. The Bible itself, which must
stand first in the list, is a conclusive
case.
At the head of all non- Christian
moralists, I must place the Enchiridion
of Epictetus and the Meditations of Marcus
Aurelius, certainly two of the noblest
books in the whole of literature ; and
which, moreover, have both been admir
ably translated. The Analects of Con
fucius will, I believe, prove disappointing
to most English readers, but the effect it
has produced on the most numerous race
of men constitutes in itself a peculiar
interest. The Ethics of Aristotle, per
haps, appear to some disadvantage from
the very fact that they have so profoundly
influenced our views of morality. The
Koran, like the Analects of Confucius,
will to most of us derive its principal
interest from the effect it has exercised,
and still exercises, on so many millions of
our fellow-men. I doubt whether in any
other respect it will seem to repay per
usal, and to most persons probably certain
extracts, not too numerous, would appear
sufficient.
The writings of the Apostolic Fathers
have been collected in one volume by
Wake. It is but a small one, and though
I must humbly confess that I vas dis
appointed, they are perhaps all the more
curious from the contrast they afford to
19
those of the Apostles themselves. Of the
later Fathers I have included only the
Confessions of St. Augustine, which Dr.
Pusey selected for the commencement of
the Library of the Fathers, and which, as
he observes, has “ been translated again
and again into almost every European
language, and in all loved ; ” though
Luther was of opinion that St. Augustine
“ wrote nothing to the purpose concerning
faith.” But then Luther was no great
admirer of the Fathers. St. Jerome, he
says, “ writes, alas ! very coldly ; ” Chrys
ostom “ digresses from the chief points ; ”
St. Jerome is “very poor;” and in fact,
he says, “ the more I read the. books of the
Fathers the more I find myself offended ; ”
while Renan, in his interesting auto
biography, compared theology to a Gothic
Cathedral, “ elle a la grandeur, les vides
immenses, et le peu de solidite.”
Among other devotional works most
frequently recommended are Thomas a
Kempis’s Imitation of Christ, Pascal’s
Pensees, Spinoza’s Tractatus TheologicoPoliticus, Butler’s Analogy of Religion,
Jeremy Taylor’s Holy Living and Dying,
Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, and last, not
least, Keble’s beautiful Christian Year.
Aristotle and Plato stand at the head
of another class. The Politics of Aristotle,
and Plato’s Dialogues, if not the whole,
at any rate the Phcedo, the Apology, and
the Republic, will be of course read by all
who wish to know anything of the history
of human thought, though I am heretical
enough to doubt whether the latter repays
the minute and laborious study often
devoted to it.
Aristotle being the father, if not the
creator, of the modern scientific method,
it has followed naturally—indeed, almost
inevitably—that his principles have be
come part of our very intellectual being,
so that they seem now almost self-evident
while his actual observations, though very
remarkable—as, for instance, when he
observes that bees on one journey confine
themselves to one kind of flower—still
have been in many cases superseded by
others, carried on under more favourable
�20
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
conditions. We must not be ungrateful
to the great master, because his own
lessons have taught us how to advance.
Plato, on the other hand, I say so with
all respect, seems to me in some cases to
play on words : his arguments are very
able, very philosophical, often very noble ;
but not always conclusive ; in a language
differently constructed they might some
times tell in exactly the opposite sense.
If his method has proved less fruitful, if
in metaphysics we have made but little
advance, that very fact in one point of
view leaves the Dialogues of Socrates as
instructive now as ever they were; while
the problems with which they deal will
always rouse our interest, as the calm
and lofty spirit which inspires them
must command our admiration.
Of
the Apology and the Phcedo especially
it would be impossible to speak too grate
fully.
I would also mention Demosthenes’s
De Corona, which Lord Brougham pro
nounced the greatest oration of the
greatest of orators ; Lucretius, Plutarch’s
Lives, Horace, and at least the De Officiis,
De Amicitia, and De Senectute of Cicero.
The great epics of the world have
always constituted one of the most popu
lar branches of literature. Yet how few,
comparatively, ever read Homer or Virgil
after leaving school.
The Nibelungenlied, our great AngloSaxon epic, is perhaps too much neglected,
no doubt on account of its painful char
acter. Brunhild and Kriemhild, indeed,
are far from perfect, but we meet with few
such “ live ” women in Greek or Roman
literature. Nor must I omit to mention
Sir T. Malory’s Morte d’A rthur, though I
confess I do so mainly in deference to the
judgment of others.
Among the Greek tragedians I include
zEschylus, if not all his works, at any rate
Prometheus, perhaps the sublimest poem
in Greek literature, and the Trilogy (Mr.
Symonds in his Greek Poets speaks of the
“ unrivalled majesty ” of the Agamemnon,
and Mark Pattison considered it “the
grandest work of creative genius in the
PART I
whole range of literature”); or, as Sir
M. E. Grant Duff recommends, the Persce;
Sophocles (CEdipus Tyrannus), Euripides
(Medea), and Aristophanes (The Knights and
Clouds') ; unfortunately, as Schlegel says,
probably even the greatest scholar does
not understand half his jokes ; and I think
most modern readers will prefer our own
poets.
I should like, moreover, to say a word
for Eastern poetry, such as portions of the
Maha Bharata and Ramayana (too long
probably to be read through, but of which
Taiboys Wheeler has given a most interest
ing epitome in the first two volumes of
his History of India); the Shali-nameh, the
work of the great Persian poet Firdusi;
Kalidasa’s Sakuntala, and the Sheking, the
classical collection of ancient Chinese odes.
Many I know, will think I ought to have
included Omar Khayyam.
In history we are beginning to feel that
the vices and vicissitudes of kings and
queens, the dates of battles and wars, are
far less important than the development
of human thought, the progress of art, of
science, and of law, and the subject is on
that very account even more interesting
than ever. I will, however, only mention,
and that rather from a literary than a his
torical point of view, Herodotus, Xenophon
(the Anabasis), Thucydides, and Tacitus
(Germania); and of modern historians,
Gibbon’s Decline and Fall (“ the splendid
bridge from the old world to the new ”),
Hume’s History of England, Carlyle’s
French Revolution, Grote’s History of Greece,
and Green’s Short History of the English
People.
Science is so rapidly progressive that,
though to many minds it is the most
fruitful and interesting subject of all, I
cannot here rest on that agreement which,
rather than my own opinion, I take as the
basis of my list. I will therefore only
mention Bacon’s Novum Organum, Mill’s
Logic, and Darwin’s Origin of Species; in
Political Economy, which some of our
rulers do not now sufficiently value, Mill,
and parts of Smith’s Wealth of Nations,
for probably those who do not intend to
�CHAP. IV
THE CHOICE OF BOOKS
make a special study of political economy
would scarcely read the whole.
Among voyages and travels, perhaps
those most frequently suggested are Cook’s
Voyages, Humboldt’s Travels, and Darwin’s
Naturalist’s Journal; though I confess I
should like to have added many more.
Mr. Bright not long ago specially re
commended the less known American poets,
but he probably assumed that every one
would have read Shakespeare, Milton
(Paradise Lost, Lycidas, Comus and minor
poems), Chaucer, Dante, Spenser, Dryden,
Scott, Wordsworth, Pope, Byron, and
others, before embarking on more doubtful
adventures.
Among other books most frequently re
commended are Goldsmith’s Vicar of
Wakefield, Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels, Defoe’s
Robinson Crusoe, The Arabian Nights, Don
Quixote, Boswell’s Life of Johnson, White’s
Natural History of Selborne, Burke’s Select
Works (Payne), the Essays of Bacon,
Addison, Hume, Montaigne, Macaulay, and
Emerson, Carlyle’s Past and Present,
Smiles’s Self-Help, and Goethe’s Faust and
Autobiography.
Nor can one go wrong in recommending
Berkeley’s Human Knowledge, Descartes’s
Discours sur la Methode, Locke’s Conduct
of the Understanding Lewes’s History of
Philosophy ; while, in order to keep within
the number one hundred, I can only
mention Moliere ,and Sheridan among
dramatists. Macaulay considered Mari
vaux’s La Vice de Marianne the best novel
in any language, but my number is so
nearly complete that I must content my
self with English: and will suggest
Thackeray (Vanity Fair and Pendennis'),
Dickens (Pickwick and David Copperfield),
G. Eliot (Adam Bede or The Mill on the
Floss), Kingsley (Westward Ho!), Lytton
(Last Days of Pompeii), and last, not least,
those of Scott, which indeed constitute a
library in themselves, but which I must
ask, in return for my trouble, to be allowed,
as a special favour, to count as one.
To any lover of books the very mention
of these names brings back a crowd of de
licious memories, grateful recollections of
21
peaceful home hours, after the labours and
anxieties of the day. How thankful we
ought to be for these inestimable blessings,
for this numberless host of friends who
never weary, betray, or forsake us !
LIST OF 100 BOOKS
Works by Living Authors are omitted
The Bible
The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius
Epictetus
Aristotle’s Ethics
Analects of Confucius
St. Hilaire’s “Le Bouddha et sa religion”
Wake’s Apostolic Fathers
Thos. a Kempis’s Imitation of Christ
Confessions of St. Augustine (Dr. Pusey)
The Koran (portions of)
Spinoza’s Tractatus Theologico-Politicus
Pascal’s Pensees
Butler’s Analogy of Religion
Taylor’s Holy Living and Dying
Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress
Keble’s Christian Year
Plato’s Dialogues ; at any rate, the Apology,
Crito, and Pheedo
Xenophon’s Memorabilia
Aristotle’s Politics
Demosthenes’s De Corona
Cicero’s De Officiis, De Amicitia, and De
Senectute
Plutarch’s Lives
Berkeley’s Human Knowledge
Descartes’s Discours sur la Methode
Locke s On the Conduct of the Understanding
Homer
Hesiod
Virgil
Maha Bliarata
Ramayana
Epitomised in Taiboys
Wheeler’s History of
India, vols. i. and ii.
The Shahnameh
The Nibelungenlied
Malory’s Morte d’Arthur
The Sheking
Kalidasa’s Sakuntala or The Lost Ring
Alschylus’s Prometheus
Trilogy of Orestes
Sophocles’s (Edipus
Euripides’s Medea
Aristophanes’s The Knights and Clouds
Horace
Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales (perhaps in
Morris’s edition ; or, if expurgated, in C.
Clarke’s, or Mrs. Haweis’s)
�22
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
Shakespeare *
Milton’s Paradise Lost, Lycidas, Comus, and
the shorter poems
Dante’s Divina Commedia
Spenser’s Fairie Queen
Dryden’s Poems
Scott’s Poems
Wordsworth (Mr. Arnold’s selection)
Pope’s Essay on Criticism
Essay on Man
Rape of the Lock
Burns
Byron’s Childe Harold
Gray’s Poems
Tennyson’s Idylls and smaller poems
PART I
Thackeray’s Vanity Fair
Pendennis
Dickens’s Pickwick
David Copperfield
Lytton’s Last Days of Pompeii
George Eliot’s Adam Bede
Kingsley’s Westward Ho >.
Scott’s Novels
CHAPTER V
THE BLESSING OF FRIENDS1
Herodotus
Xenophon’s Anabasis
Thucydides
Tacitus’s Germania
Livy
Gibbon’s Decline and Fall
Hume’s History of England
Grote’s History of Greece
Carlyle’s French Revolution
Green’s Short History of England
Lewes’s History of Philosophy
“They seem to take away the sun from the
world who withdraw friendship from life ; for
we have received nothing better from the Im
mortal Gods, nothing more delightful.”—Cicero.
Most of those who have written in praise
of books have thought they could say
nothing more conclusive than to compare
them to friends.
All men, said Socrates, have their
different objects of ambition—horses, dogs,
Arabian Nights
money, honour, as the case may be ; but
Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels
Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe
for his own part he would rather have a
Goldsmith’s Vicar of Wakefield
good friend than all these put together.
Cervantes’s Don Quixote
And again, men know “ the number of
Boswell’s Life of Johnson
their other possessions, although they
Moliere
Schiller’s William Tell
might be very numerous, but of their
Sheridan’s The Critic, School for Scandal, and friends, though but few, they were not
The Rivals
only ignorant of the number, but even
Carlyle’s Past and Present
when they attempted to reckon it to such
as asked them, they set aside again some
Bacon’s Novum Organum
that they had previously counted among
Smith’s Wealth of Nations (part of)
Mill’s Political Economy
their friends; so little did they allow
Cook’s Voyages
their friends to occupy their thoughts.
Humboldt’s Travels
Yet in comparison with what possession,
White’s Natural History of Selborne
of all others, would not a good friend
Darwin’s Origin of Species
Naturalist’s Voyage
appear far more valuable ? ”
Mill’s Logic
“ As to the value of other things,” says
Cicero, “most men differ; concerning
Bacon’s Essays
friendship all have the same opinion.
Montaigne’s Essays
What can be more foolish than, when
Hume’s Essays
Macaulay’s Essays
men are possessed of great influence by
Addison’s Essays
their wealth, power, and resources, to
Emerson’s Essays
procure other things which are bought
Burke’s Select Works
by money—horses, slaves, rich apparel,
Smiles’s Self-Help
costly vases—and not to procure friends,
Voltaire’s Zadig and Micromegas
Goethe’s Faust, and Autobiography
1 The substance of this was delivered at the
London Working Men’s College.
�CHAP. V
THE BLESSING OF. EE ZENDS
the most valuable and fairest furniture of
life?” And yet, he continues, “every
man can tell how many goats or sheep
he possesses, but not how many friends.”
In the choice, moreover, of a dog or of a
horse, we exercise the greatest care : we
inquire into its pedigree, its training and
character, and yet we too often leave the
selection of our friends, which is of in
finitely greater importance—by whom our
whole life will be more or less influenced
either for good or evil—almost to chance.
It is no doubt true, as the Autocrat of
the Breakfast Table says, that all men are
bores except when we want them. And
Sir Thomas Browne quaintly observes
that “ unthinking heads who have not
learnt to be alone, are a prison to them
selves if they be not with others ; whereas,
on the contrary, those whose thoughts are
in a fair and hurry within, are sometimes
fain to retire into company to be out of
the crowd of themselves.” Still I do not
quite understand Emerson’s idea that
“men descend to meet.” In another
place, indeed, he qualifies the statement,
and says, “ Almost all people descend to
meet.” Even so I should venture to
question it, especially considering the
context.
“ All association,” he adds,
“must be a compromise, and, what is
worse, the very flower and aroma of the
flower of each of the beautiful natures
disappears as they approach each other.”
What a sad thought! Is it really so ;
Need it be so ? And if it were, would
friends be any real advantage ? I should
have thought that the influence of friends
was exactly the reverse : that the flower
of a beautiful nature would expand, and
the colours grow brighter, when stimu
lated by the warmth and sunshine of
friendship.
It has been said that it is wise always
to treat a friend, remembering that he
may become an enemy, and an enemy,
remembering that he may become a
friend ; and whatever may be thought
of the first part of the adage, there is
certainly much wisdom in the latter.
Many people seem to take more pains
23
and more pleasure in making enemies,
than in making friends. Plutarch, in
deed, quotes with approbation the. advice
of Pythagoras “ not to shake hands with
too many,” but as long as friends are
well chosen, it is true rather that
“ He who has a thousand friends,
Has never a one to spare,
And he who has one enemy,
Will meet him everywhere,”
and unfortunately, while there are few
great friends there is no little enemy.
I guard myself, however, by saying
again—As long as they are well chosen.
One is thrown in life with a great many
people who, though not actively bad,
though they may not wilfully lead us
astray, yet take no pains with themselves,
neglect their own minds, and direct the
conversation to petty puerilities or mere
gossip ; who do not seem to realise that
conversation may by a little effort be
made instructive and delightful, without
being in any way pedantic ; or, on the
other hand, in ay be allowed to drift into
a mere morass of muddy thought and
weedy words. There are few from ■whom
we may not learn something, if only they
will trouble themselves to tell us. Nay,
even if they teach us nothing, they may
help us by the stimulus of intelligent
questions, or the warmth of sympathy.
But if they do neither, then indeed their
companionship, if companionship it can
be called, is mere waste of time, and of
such we may well say, “ I do desire that
we be better strangers.”
Much certainly of the happiness and
purity of our lives depends on our making
a wise choice of our companions and
friends. If badly chosen they will in
evitably drag us down ; if well they will
raise us up. Yet many people seem to
trust in this matter to the chapter of
accident. It is well and right, indeed, to
be courteous and considerate to every one
with whom we are brought into contact,
but to choose them as real friends is an
other matter. Some seem to make a man
a friend, or try to do so, because he lives
near, because he is in the same business,
�24
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
travels on the same line of railway, or for
some other trivial reason. There cannot
be a greater mistake. These are only, in
the words of Plutarch “ the idols and
images of friendship.”
To be friendly with every one is
another matter ; we must remember that
there is no little enemy, and those who
have ever really loved any one will have
some tenderness for all. There is indeed
some good in most men. “ I have heard
much,” says Mr. Nasmyth in his charming
autobiography, “ about the ingratitude
and selfishness of the world. It may
have been ray good fortune, but I have
never experienced either of these unfeel
ing conditions.” Such also has been my
own experience.
“ Men talk of unkind hearts, kind deeds
With coldness still returning.
Alas ! the gratitude of men
Has ofteuer left me mourning.”
I cannot, then, agree with Emerson
when he says that “we walk alone in the
world. Friends such as we desire are
dreams and fables. But a sublime hope
cheers ever the faithful heart, that else
where in other regions of the universal
power souls are now acting, enduring,
and daring, which can love us, and which
we can love.”
No doubt, much as worthy friends
add to the happiness and value of life,
we must in the main depend on ourselves,
and every one is his own best friend
or worst enemy.
Sad, indeed, is Bacon’s assertion that
“ there is little friendship in the world,
and least of all between equals, which
was wont to be magnified. That that is,
is between superior and inferior, whose
fortunes may comprehend the one to the
other.” But this can hardly be taken as
his deliberate opinion, for he elsewhere
says, “ but we may go farther, and affirm
most truly, that it is a mere and miser
able solitude to want true friends, without
which the world is but a wilderness.”
Not only, he adds, does friendship intro
duce “ daylight in the understanding out
of darkness and confusion of thoughts;”
PART I
it “ maketh a fair day in the affections
from storm and tempests:” in consultation
with a friend a man “ tosseth his thoughts
more easily; he marshalleth them more
orderly ; he seeth how they look when
they are turned into words ; finally, he
waxeth wiser than himself, and that more
by an hour’s discourse than by a day’s
meditation.” . . . “ But little do men
perceive what solitude is, and how far it
extendeth, for a crowd is not company,
and faces are but a gallery of pictures,
and talk but a tinkling cymbal where
there is no love.”
With this last assertion I cannot alto
gether concur. Surely even strangers may
be most interesting ! and many will agree
with Dr. Johnson when, describing a
pleasant evening, he summed it up—“ Sir,
we had a good talk.”
Epictetus gives excellent advice when
he dissuades from conversation on the
very subjects most commonly chosen, and
advises that it should be on “ none of
the common subjects—not about gladi
ators, nor horse-races, nor about athletes,
nor about eating or drinking, which are
the usual subjects ; and especially not
about men, as blaming them ; ” but when
he adds, “or praising them,” the injunction
seems to me of doubtful value. Surely
Marcus Aurelius more wisely advises that
“when thou wishest to delight thyself,
think of the virtues of those who live
with thee ; for instance, the activity of
one, and the modesty of another, and the
liberality of a third, and some other good
quality of a fourth. For nothing delights
so much as the examples of the virtues,
when they are exhibited in the morals of
those who live with us and present them
selves in abundance, as far as is possible.
Wherefore we must keep them before us.”
Yet how often we know merely the sight
of those we call our friends, or the sound
of their voices, but nothing whatever of
their mind or soul.
We must, moreover, be as careful to
keep friends as to make them. If every
one knew what one said of the other,
Pascal assures us that “ there would not
�THE VALUE OF TIME
CHAP. V
be four friends in the world.” This I
hope and think is too strong, but at
any rate try to be one of the four. And
when you have made a friend, keep
him. Hast thou a friend, says an Eastern
proverb, “ visit him often, for thorns and
brushwood obstruct the road which no
one treads.” The affections should not be
mere “tents of a night.”
Still less does Friendship confer any
privilege to make ourselves disagreeable.
Some people never seem to appreciate
their friends till they have lost them.
Anaxagoras described the Mausoleum as
the ghost of wealth turned into stone.
“ But he who has once stood beside the
grave to look back on the companionship
which has been for ever closed, feeling
how impotent then are the wild love and
the keen sorrow, to give one instant’s
pleasure to the pulseless heart, or atone
in the lowest measure to the departed
spirit for the hour of unkindness, will
scarcely for the future incur that debt to
the heart which can only be discharged
to the dust.” 1
Death, indeed, cannot sever friendship.
“Friends,” says Cicero, “though absent,
are still present ; though in poverty they
are rich ; though weak, yet in the enjoy
ment of health ; and, what is still more
difficult to assert, though dead they are
alive.” This seems a paradox, yet is
there not much truth in his explanation ?
“ To me, indeed, Scipio still lives, and
will always live ; for I love the virtue of
that man, and that worth is not yet ex
tinguished. . . . Assuredly of all things
that either fortune or time has bestowed
on me, I have none which I can compare
with the friendship of Scipio.”
If, then, we choose our friends for
what they are, not for what they have,
and if we deserve so great a blessing, then
they will be always with us, preserved in
absence, and even after death, in the
amber of memory.
25
CHAPTER VI
THE VALUE OF TIME1
Each day is a little life
All other good gifts depend on time
for their value. What are friends, books,
or health, the interest of travel or the de
lights of home, if we have not time for
their enjoyment ? Time is often said to
be money, but it is more—it is life ; and
yet many who would cling desperately to
life, think nothing of wasting time.
Ask of the wise, says Schiller in Lord
Sherbrooke’s translation,
‘ ‘ The moments we forego
Eternity itself cannot retrieve. ”
And, in the words of Dante,
“ For who knows most, him loss of time most
grieves.”
Not that a life of drudgery should be our
ideal. Far from it. Time spent in
innocent and rational enjoyments, in
healthy games, in social and family inter
course, is well and wisely spent. Games
not only keep the body in health, but give
a command over the muscles and limbs
which cannot be over-valued. Moreover,
there are temptations which strong exercise
best enables us to resist.
It is the idle who complain they cannot
find time to do that which they fancy
they wish. In truth, people can generally
make time for what they choose to do ; it
is not really the time but the will that is
wanting: and the advantage of leisure is
mainly that we may have the power of
choosing our own wTork, not certainly that
it confers any privilege of idleness.
“ Time travels in divers paces with
divers persons. I’ll tell you who time
ambles withal, who time trots withal, who
time gallops withal, and who he stands
still withal.” 2
1 Ruskin.
1 The substance of this was delivered at the
Polytechnic Institution.
2 Shakespeare.
�26
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
PART I
For it is not so much the hours that Devil tempts the busy man, but the idle
tell, as the way we use them.
man tempts the Devil. I remember, says
Hillard, “a satirical poem, in which the
“ Circles are praised, not that excel
In largeness, but th’ exactly framed ;
Devil is represented as fishing for men,
So life we praise, that does excel
and adapting his bait to the tastes and
Not in much time, but acting well.” 1
temperaments of his prey ; but the idlers
“Idleness,” says Jeremy Taylor, “is were the easiest victims, for they swallowed
the greatest prodigality in the world ; it even the naked hook.”
throws away that which is invaluable in
The mind of the idler indeed preys upon
respect of its present use, and irreparable itself. “ The human heart is like a mill
when it is past, being to be recovered by stone in a mill; when you put wheat
no power of art or nature.”
under it, it turns and grinds and bruises
Life must be measured rather by depth the wheat to flour ; if you put no wheat,
than by length, by thought and action it still grinds on—and grinds itself away.” 1
rather than by time. “ A counted number
It is not work, but care, that kills, and
of pulses only,” says Pater, “is given to us it is in this sense, I suppose, that we are
of a variegated, aromatic, life. How may told to “ take no thought for the morrow.”
we see in them all that is to be seen by To “ consider the lilies of the field, how
the finest senses 1 How can we pass most they grow ; they toil not, neither do they
swiftly from point to point, and be present spin : and yet even Solomon, in all his
always at the focus where the greatest glory, was not arrayed like one of these.
number of vital forces unite in their Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of
purest energy ? To burn always with this the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow
hard gem-like flame, to maintain this is cast into the oven, shall he not much
ecstasy, is success in life. Failure is to more clothe you, O ye of little faith 1 ” It
form habits, for habit is relation to a would indeed be a mistake to suppose that
stereotyped world ; . . . while all melts lilies are idle or imprudent. On the
under our feet, we may well catch at any contrary, plants are most industrious, and
exquisite passion, or any contribution to lilies store up in their complex bulbs a
knowledge, that seems, by a lifted horizon, great part of the nourishment of one year to
to set the spirit free for a moment.”
quicken the growth of the next. Care, on
I would not quote Lord Chesterfield as the other hand, they certainly know not.2
generally a safe guide, but there is certainly
“ Hours have wings, fly up to the author
much shrewd wisdom in his advice to his of time, and carry news of our usage.
son with reference to time. “ Every All our prayers cannot entreat one of them
moment you now lose, is so much character either to return or slacken his pace. The
and advantage lost ; as, on the other hand, misspents of every minute are a new record
every moment you now employ usefully, against us in heaven. Sure if we thought
is so much time wisely laid out, at pro thus, we should dismiss them with better
digious interest.”
reports, and not suffer them to fly away
And again, “ It is astonishing that any empty, or laden with dangerous intelli
one can squander away in absolute idleness gence. How happy is it when they carry
one single moment of that small portion up not only the message, but the fruits of
of time which is allotted to us in the world. good, and stay with the Ancient of Days
. . . Know the true value of time ; snatch, to speak for us before His glorious
seize, and enjoy every moment of it.”
throne! ” 3
‘ Are you in earnest ? seize this very minute,
What you can do, or think you can, begin it.” 2
There is a Turkish proverb that
1 Waller.
2 Faust.
1 Luther.
2 The word used iiepifiv-qa-qTe is translated in
the Liddell and Scott “to be anxious about, to be
distressed in mind, to be cumbered with many
cares.”
3 Milton.
�CHAP. VI
THE VALUE OF TIME
Time is often said to fly : but it is not
so much the time that flies ; as we that
waste it, and wasted time is worse than no
time at all; “ I wasted time,” Shake
speare makes Richard II. say, “and now
doth time waste me.”
“He that is choice of his time,” says
Jeremy Taylor, “ will also be choice of
his company, and choice of his actions ;
lest the first engage him in vanity and
loss, and the latter, by being criminal, be
a throwing his time and himself away,
and a going back in the accounts of
eternity.”
The life of man is seventy years, but
how little of this is actually our own.
We must deduct the time required for
sleep, for meals, for dressing and undress
ing, for exercise, etc., and then how little
remains really at our own disposal!
“ I have lived,” said Lamb, “ nominally
fifty years, but deduct from them the
hours I have lived for other people, and
not for myself, anct you will find me still
a young fellow.”
The hours we live for other people,
however, are not those which should be
deducted, but rather those which benefit
neither oneself nor any one else ; and
these, alas 1 are often very numerous.
“ There are some hours which are taken
from us, some which are stolen from us,
and some which slip from us.”1 But
however we may lose them, we can never
get them back. It is wonderful, indeed,
how much innocent happiness we thought
lessly throw away. An Eastern proverb
says that calamities sent by heaven may
be avoided, but from those we bring on
ourselves there is no escape.
Some years ago I paid a visit to the
sites of the ancient lake villages of Switzer
land in company with a distinguished
archseologist, M. Morlot. To my surprise
I found that his whole income was £100
a year, part of which, moreover, he spent
in making a small museum. I asked him
whether he contemplated accepting any
post or office, but he said certainly not.
He valued his leisure and opportunities
1 Seneca.
27
as priceless possessions far more than
silver or gold, and would not waste any
of his time in making money.
Time, indeed, is a sacred gift, and each
day is a little life. Just think of our
advantages here in London ! We have
access to the whole literature of the
world ; we may see in our National
Gallery the most beautiful productions of
former generations, and in the Royal
Academy and other galleries the works of
the greatest living artists. Perhaps there
is no one who has ever found time to
see the British Museum thoroughly. Yet
consider what it contains ; or rather, what
does it not contain ? The most perfect
collection of living and extinct animals;
the marvellous monsters of geological
ages ; the most beautiful birds, shells, and
minerals ; precious stones and fragments
from other worlds ; the most interesting
antiquities ; curious and fantastic speci
mens illustrating different races of men ;
exquisite gems, coins, glass, and china ;
the Elgin marbles; the remains of the
Mausoleum ; of the temple of Diana of
Ephesus; ancient monuments of Egypt
and Assyria ; the rude implements of our
predecessors in England, who were coeval
with the hippopotamus and rhinoceros, the
musk-ox, and the mammoth ; and beauti
ful specimens of Greek and Roman art.
Suffering may be unavoidable, but no
one has any excuse for being dull. And
yet some people are dull. They talk of
a better world to come, while whatever
dulness there may be here is all their
own. Sir Arthur Helps has well said :
“ What! dull, when you do not know
what gives its loveliness of form to the
lily, its depth of colour to the violet, its
fragrance to the rose; when you do not
know in what consists the venom of the
adder, any more than you can imitate the
glad movements of the dove. What !
<jull, when earth, air, and water are all
alike mysteries to you, and when as you
stretch out your hand you do not touch
anything the properties of which you have
mastered ; while all the time Nature is
inviting you to talk earnestly with her,
�28
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
part I
to understand her, to subdue
be blessed by her 1 Go away,
something, do something,
something, and let me hear
your dulness.”
her, and to
Surely no one who has the opportunity
man ; learn should omit to travel. The world belongs
understand to him who has seen it. “ But he that
no more of would make his travels delightful must
first make himself delightful.” 1
According to the old proverb, “ the fool
wanders, the wise man travels.” Bacon
tells us that “the things to be seen and
observed are the courts of princes, especi
CHAPTER VII
ally when they give audience to ambas
THE PLEASURES OF TRAVEL 1
sadors ; the courts of justice while they
sit and hear causes ; and so of consistories
“I ain a part of all that I have seen.”
ecclesiastic • the churches and monasteries,
with the monuments which are therein
I AM sometimes disposed to think that
extant; the walls and fortifications of
there are few things in which we of this cities and towns ; and so the havens and
generation enjoy greater advantages over harbours, antiquities and ruins, libraries,
our ancestors than in the increased facili colleges, disputations and lectures, when
ties of travel; but I hesitate to say this, any are; shipping and navies ; houses
not because our advantages are not great, and gardens of state and pleasure near
but because I have already made the same great cities; armouries, arsenals, maga
remark with reference to several other zines, exchanges, burses, warehouses, exer
aspects of life.
cises of horsemanship, fencing, training of
The very word “ travel ” is suggestive. soldiers, and the like; comedies, such
It is a form of “travail”—excessive labour; whereunto the better sort of persons do
and, as Skeat observes, it forcibly recalls resort; treasuries of jewels and robes;
the toil of travel in olden days. How cabinets and rarities ; and, to conclude,
different things are now !
whatsoever is memorable in the places
It is sometimes said that every one where they go.”
should travel on foot “ like Thales, Plato,
But this depends on the time at our
and Pythagoras ” ; we are told that in disposal, and the object with which we
these days of railroads people rush through travel. If we are long enough in any
countries and see nothing. It may be so, one place Bacon’s advice is no doubt
but that is not the fault of the railways. excellent; but for the moment I am
They confer upon us the inestimable ad thinking rather of an annual holiday,
vantage of being able, so rapidly and with taken for the sake of rest and health ;
so little fatigue, to visit countries which for fresh air and exercise rather than for
were much less accessible to our ancestors. study. Yet even so, if we have eyes to
What a blessing it is that not our own see, we cannot fail to lay in a stock of
islands only—our smiling fields and rich new ideas as well as a store of health.
woods, the mountains that are full of
We may have read the most vivid and
peace and the rivers of joy, the lakes and accurate description, we may have pored
heaths and hills, castles and cathedrals, over maps and plans and pictures, and yet
and many a spot immortalised in the the reality will burst on us like a revela
history of our country :—not these only, tion. This is true not only of mountains
but the sun and scenery of the South, and glaciers, of palaces and cathedrals,
the Alps the palaces of Nature, the blue but even of the simplest examples.
Mediterranean, and the cities of Europe,
For instance, like every one else, I had
with all their memories and treasures, are read descriptions and seen photographs
now brought within a few hours of us.
and pictures of the Pyramids. Their
1 The substance of this was delivered at Oldham.
1 Seneca.
�CHAP. VII
THE PLEASURES OF TRAVEL
form is simplicity itself. I do not know
that I could put into words any character
istic of the original for -which I was not
prepared. It was not that they were
larger ; it was not that they differed in
form, in colour, or situation. And yet,
the moment I saw them, I felt that my
previous impression had been but a faint
shadow of the reality. The actual sight
seemed to give life to the idea.
Every one who has been in the East
will agree that a -week of oriental travel
brings out, with more than stereoscopic
effect, the pictures of patriarchal life as
given us in the Old Testament. And
what is true of the Old Testament is true
of history generally. To those who have
been in Athens or Rome, the history of
Greece or Italy becomes far more interest
ing ; -while, on the other hand, some
knowledge of the history and literature
enormously enhances the interest of the
scenes themselves.
Good descriptions and pictures, how
ever, help us to see much more than we
should perhaps perceive for ourselves. It
may even be doubted whether some
persons do not derive a more correct im
pression from a good drawing or descrip
tion, which brings out the salient points,
than they would from actual, but unaided,
inspection. The idea may gain in ac
curacy, in character, and even in detail,
more than it misses in vividness. But,
however this may be, for those who cannot
travel, descriptions and pictures have an
immense interest; while to those who
have travelled, they will afford an inex
haustible delight in reviving the memories
of beautiful scenes and interesting expedi
tions.
It is really astonishing how little most
of us see of the beautiful world in which
we live. Mr. Norman Lockyer tells me
that while travelling on a scientific mission
in the Rocky Mountains, he w’as astonished
to meet an aged French Abbe, and could
not help showing his surprise. The Abbd
observed this, and in the course of con
versation explained his presence in that
distant region.
29
“You were,” he said, “I easily saw,
surprised to find me here. The fact is,
that some months ago I was very ill. My
physicians gave me up : one morning I
seemed to faint and thought that I was
already in the arms of the Bon Dieu. I
fancied one of the angels came and asked
me, ‘Well, M. l’Abbe, and how did you
like the beautiful world you have just
left?’ And then it occurred to me that
I who had been all my life preaching
about heaven, had seen almost nothing
of the world in which I was living. I
determined therefore, if it pleased Provi
dence to spare me, to see something of
this world ; and so here I am.”
Few of us are free, however much we
might wish it, to follow the example of
the worthy Abbe. But although it may
not be possible for us to reach the Rocky
Mountains, there are other countries nearer
home which most of us might find time
to visit.
Though it is true that no descriptions
can come near the reality, they may at
least persuade us to give ourselves this
great advantage. Let me then try to
illustrate this by pictures in words, as
realised by some of our most illustrious
countrymen; I will select references to
foreign countries only, not that we have
not equal beauties here, but because every
where in England one feels oneself at
home.
The following passage from Tyndall’s
Hours of Exercise in the Alps, is almost as
good as an hour in the Alps themselves :
“ I looked over this wondrous scene
towards Mont Blanc, the Grand Combin,
the Dent Blanche, the Weissliorn, the
Dom, and the thousand lesser peaks which
seemed to join in the celebration of the
risen day. I asked myself, as on previous
occasions, How was this colossal work
performed ? Who chiselled these mighty
and picturesque masses out of a mere
protuberance of the earth ? And the
answer was at hand. Ever young, ever
mighty—with the vigour of a thousand
worlds still within him—the real sculptor
was even then climbing up the eastern
�30
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
PART I
i
sky. It was lie wlio raised aloft the
waters which cut out these ravines; it
was he who planted the glaciers on the
mountain-slopes, thus giving gravity a
plough to open out the valleys ; and it is
he who, acting through the ages, will
finally lay low these mighty monuments,
rolling them gradually seaward, sowing
the seeds of continents to be ; so that the
people of an older earth may see mould
spread, and corn wave over the hidden
rocks which at this moment bear the
weight of the Jungfrau.” And the Alps
lie within twenty-four hours of London !
Tyndall’s writings also contain many
vivid descriptions of glaciers ; those
“ silent and solemn causeways . . . broad
enough for the march of an army in line
of battle and quiet as a street of tombs in
a buried city.” 1 I do not, however, borrow
from him or from any one else any descrip
tion of glaciers, for they are so unlike any
thing else, that no one who has not seen,
can possibly visualise them.
The history of European rivers yet
remains to be written, and is most inter
esting. They did not always run in their
present courses. The Rhone, for instance,
appears to have been itself a great traveller.
At least there seems reason to believe
that the upper waters of the Valais fell
at first into the Danube, and so into
the Black Sea ; subsequently joined the
Rhine and the Thames, and so ran far
north over the plains which once connected
the mountains of Scotland and of Norway
—to the Arctic Ocean ; and have only
comparatively of late years adopted their
present course into the Mediterranean.
But, however this may be, the Rhine
of Germany and the Rhine of Switzerland
are very unlike. The catastrophe of Schaff
hausen seems to alter the whole character
of the river, and no wonder. “ Stand for
half an hour,” says Ruskin, “beside the
Fall of Schaffhausen, on the north side
where the rapids are long, and watch how '
the vault of water first bends, unbroken,
in pure polished velocity, over the arching
rocks at the brow of the cataract, covering ,
1 Ruskin.
' them with a dome of crystal twenty feet
j thick, so swift that its motion is unseen
i except when a foam globe from above
, darts over it like a falling star ; . . . and
, how ever and anon, startling you with its
white flash, a jet of spray leaps hissing
out of the fall, like a rocket, bursting in
the wind and driven away in dust, filling
the air with light; and how, through the
curdling wreaths of the restless crushing
abyss below, the blue of the water, paled
by the foam in its body, shows purer
than the sky through white rain-cloud •
. . . their dripping masses lifted at inter
vals, like sheaves of loaded corn, by some
stronger gush from the cataract, and
bowed again upon the mossy rocks as its
roar dies away.”
But much as we may admire the
majestic grandeur of a mighty river,
either in its eager rush or its calmer
moments, there is something which
fascinates even more in the free life, the
young energy, the sparkling transparence,
and merry music of smaller streams.
“ The upper Swiss valleys,” as the
same great Seer says, “ are sweet with
perpetual streamlets, that seem always to
have chosen the steepest places to come
down, for the sake of the leaps, scattering
their handfuls of crystal this way and
that, as the wind takes them, with all the
grace, but with none of the formalism, of
fountains . . . until at last . . . they
find their way down to the turf, and lose
themselves in that, silently ; with quiet
depth of clear water furrowing among the
grass blades, and looking only like their
shadow, but presently emerging again in
little startled gushes and laughing hurries,
as if they had remembered suddenly that
the day was too short for them to get
down the hill.”
How vividly does Symonds bring before
us the sunny shores of the Mediterranean,
which he loves so well, and the contrast
between the scenery of the North and
the South.
“ In northern landscapes the eye travels
through vistas of leafy boughs to still,
secluded crofts and pastures, where slow-
�CHAP. VII
THE PLEASURES OF TRA VEL
moving oxen graze. The mystery of
dreams and the repose of meditation haunt
our massive bowers. But in the South,
the lattice-work of olive boughs and foliage
scarcely veils the laughing sea and bright
blue sky, while the hues of the landscape
find their climax in the dazzling radiance
of the sun upon the waves, and the pure
light of the horizon. There is no conceal
ment and no melancholy here. Nature
seems to hold a never-ending festival and
dance, in which the waves and sunbeams
and shadows join. Again, in northern
scenery, the rounded forms of full-foliaged
trees suit the undulating country, with its
gentle hills and brooding clouds ; but in
the South the spiky leaves and sharp
branches of the olive carry out the defined
outlines which are everywhere observable
through the broader beauties of mountain
and valley and sea-shore. Serenity and
intelligence characterise this southern
landscape, in which a race of splendid men
and women lived beneath the pure light
of Phoebus, their ancestral god. Pallas
protected them, and golden Aphrodite
favoured them with beauty. Olives are
not, however, by any means the only trees
which play a part in idyllic scenery. The
tall stone pine is even more important. . . .
Near Massa, by Sorrento, there are two
gigantic pines so placed that, lying on the
grass beneath them, one looks on Capri
rising from the sea, Baiae, and all the bay
of Naples sweeping round to the base of
Vesuvius. Tangled growths of olives,
oranges, and rose-trees fill the garden
ground along the shore, while far away in
the distance pale Inarime sleeps, with
her exquisite Greek name, a virgin island
on the deep.
“ On the wilder hills you find patches
of ilex and arbutus glowing with crimson
berries and white waxen bells, sweet myrtle
rods and shafts of bay, frail tamarisk and
tall tree-heaths that wave their frosted
houghs above your head. Nearer the
shore the lentisk grows, a savoury shrub,
with cytisus and aromatic rosemary.
Clematis and polished garlands of tough
sarsaparilla wed the shrubs with clinging,
3i
climbing arms ; and here and there in
sheltered nooks the vine shoots forth
luxuriant tendrils bowed with grapes,
stretching from branch to branch of mul
berry or elm, flinging festoons on which
young loves might sit and swing, or
weaving a lattice-work of leaves across the
open shed. Nor must the sounds of this
landscape be forgotten,—sounds of bleat
ing flocks, and murmuring bees, and
nightingales, and doves that moan, and
running streams, and shrill cicadas, and
hoarse frogs, and whispering pines. There
is not a single detail which a patient
student may not verify from Theocritus.
“ Then too it is a landscape in which
sea and country are never sundered. The
higher we climb upon the mountain-side
the more marvellousis the beauty of the sea,
which seems to rise as we ascend, and
stretch into the sky. Sometimes a little
flake of blue is framed by olive boughs,
sometimes a turning in the road reveals
the whole broad azure calm below. Or,
after toiling up a steep ascent we fall
upon the undergrowth of juniper, and
lo ! a double sea, this way and that,
divided by the sharp spine of the jutting
hill, jewelled with villages along its shore,
and smiling with fair islands and silver
sails.”
To many of us the mere warmth of the
South is a blessing and a delight. The
very thought of it is delicious. I have
read over again and again Wallace’s graphic
description of a tropical sunrise—of the
sun of the early morning that turneth all
into gold.
“ Up to about a quarter past five o’clock,”
he says, “ the darkness is complete ; but
about that time a few cries of birds begin
to break the silence of night, perhaps
indicating that signs of dawn are percept
ible in the eastern horizon. A little later
the melancholy voices of the goatsuckers
are heard, varied croakings of frogs, the
plaintive whistle of mountain thrushes,
and strange cries of birds or mammals
peculiar to each locality. About half-past
five the first glimmer of light becomes
perceptible ; it slowly becomes lighter, and
�32
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
then, increases so rapidly that at about a
quarter to six it seems full daylight. For
the next quarter of an hour this changes
very little in character ; when, suddenly,
the sun’s rim appears above the horizon,
decking the dew-laden foliage with glitter
ing gems, sending gleams of golden light
far into the woods, and waking up all
nature to life and activity. Birds chirp
and flutter about, parrots scream, monkeys
chatter, bees hum among the flowers, and
gorgeous butterflies flutter lazily along or
sit with full expanded wings exposed to
the warm and invigorating rays. The
first hour of morning in the equatorial
regions possesses a charm and a beauty
that can never be forgotten. All nature
seems refreshed and strengthened by the
coolness and moisture of the past night,
new leaves and buds unfold almost before
the eye, and fresh shoots may often be
observed to have grown many inches since
the preceding day. The temperature is
the most delicious conceivable. The slight
chill of early dawn, which was itself
agreeable, is succeeded by an invigorating
warmth ; and the intense sunshine lights
up the glorious vegetation of the tropics,
and realises all that the magic art of the
painter or the glowing words of the poet
have pictured as their ideals of terrestrial
beauty.”
Or take Dean Stanley’s description of
the colossal statues of Amenophis III., the
Memnon of the Greeks, at Thebes—“The
sun was setting, the African range glowed
red behind them ; the green plain was
dyed with a deeper green beneath them,
and the shades of evening veiled the vast
rents and fissures in their aged frames.
As I looked back at them in the sunset,
and they rose up in front of the background
of the mountain, they seemed, indeed, as
if they were part of it,—as if they belonged
to some natural creation.”
But I must not indulge myself in more
quotations, though it is difficult to stop.
Such pictures recall the memory of many
glorious days : for the advantages of travels
last through life ; and often, as we sit at
home, “some bright and perfect view of
PART I
Venice, of Genoa, or of Monte Rosa comes
back on you, as full of repose as a day
wisely spent in travel.” 1
So far is a thorough love and enjoyment
of travel from interfering with the love of
home, that perhaps no one can thoroughly
enjoy his home who does not sometimes
wander away. They are like exertion and
rest, each the complement of the other ; so
that, though it may seem paradoxical, one
of the greatest pleasures of travel is the
return ; and no one who has not roamed
abroad, can realise the devotion which the
wanderer feels for Domiduca—the sweet
and gentle goddess who watches over our
coming home.
CHAPTER VIII
THE PLEASURES OF HOME
“There’s no place like Home.”—
Old English Song.
It may ■well be doubted which is more
delightful,—to start for a holiday which
has been fully earned, or to return home
from one which has been thoroughly
enjoyed ; to find oneself, with renewed
vigour, with a fresh store of memories
and ideas, back once more by one’s own
fireside, with one’s family, friends, and
books.
“ To sit at home,” says Leigh Hunt,
“with an old folio (?) book of romantic
yet credible voyages and travels to read,
an old bearded traveller for its hero, a
fireside in an old country house to read it
by, curtains drawn, and just wind enough
stirring out of doors to make an accom
paniment to the billows or forests we are
reading of—this surely is one of the
perfect moments of existence.”
It is no doubt a great privilege to
visit foreign countries; to travel say
in Mexico or Peru, or to cruise among
the Pacific Islands ; but in some respects
the narratives of early travellers, the
histories of Prescott or the voyages of
1 Helps.
�CHAP. VIII
THE PLEASURES OF HOME
Captain Cook, are even more interesting ;
describing to us, as they do, a state of
society which was then so unlike ours,
but which has now been much changed
and Europeanised.
Thus we may make our daily travels
interesting, even though, like those of the
Vicar of Wakefield, all 'our adventures
are by our own fireside, and all our migra
tions from one room to another.
Moreover, even if the beauties of home
are humble, they are still infinite, and a
man “ may lie in his bed, like Pompey
and his sons, in all quarters of the
earth.” 1
It is, then, wise to “ cultivate a talent
very fortunate for a man of my dis
position, that of travelling in my easy
chair ; of transporting myself, without
stirring from my parlour, to distant places
and to absent friends ; of drawing scenes
in my mind’s eye ; and of peopling them
with the groups of fancy, or the society
of remembrance.” 2
We may indeed secure for ourselves
endless variety without leaving our own
firesides.
In the first place, the succession of
seasons multiplies every home.
How
different is the view from our windows as
we look on the tender green of spring, the
rich foliage of summer, the glorious tints
of autumn, or the delicate tracery of
winter.
Our climate is so happy, that even in
the worst months of the year, “ calm
mornings of sunshine visit us at times,
appearing like glimpses of departed spring
amid the wilderness of wet and windy
days that lead to winter. It is pleasant,
when these interludes of silvery light
occur, to ride into the woods and see how
wonderful are all the colours of decay.
Overhead, the elms and chestnuts hang
their wealth of golden leaves, while the
beeches darken into russet tones, and the
wild cherry glows like blood-red wine.
In the hedges crimson haws and scarlet
hips are wreathed with hoary clematis or
1 Sir T. Browne.
2 Mackenzie, The Lounger.
D
33
necklaces of coral briony-berries ; the
brambles burn with many-coloured flames ;
the dog-wood is bronzed to purple ; and
here and there the ’ spindle-wood puts
forth its fruit, like knots of rosy buds,
on delicate frail twigs. Underneath lie
fallen leaves, and the brown bracken
rises to our knees as we thread the forest
paths.”1
Nay, every day gives us a succession of
glorious pictures in never-ending variety.
It is remarkable how few people seem
to derive any pleasure from the beauty of
the sky. Gray, after describing a sunrise
—how it began, with a slight whitening,
just tinged with gold and blue, lit up
all at once by a little line of insufferable
brightness which rapidly grew to half an
orb, and so to a whole one too glorious
to be distinctly seen—adds, “ I wonder
whether any one ever saw it before. I
hardly believe it.” 2
No doubt from the dawn of poetry, the
splendours of the morning and evening
skies have delighted all those who have
eyes to see.
But we are especially
indebted to Ruskin for enabling us more
vividly to realise these glorious sky
pictures. As he says, in language almost
as brilliant as the sky itself, the whole
heaven, “from the zenith to the horizon,
becomes one molten, mantling sea of
color and fire ; every black bar turns
into massy gold, every ripple and wave
into unsullied, shadowless crimson, and
purple, and scarlet, and colors for which
there are no words in language, and
no ideas in the mind—things which can
only be conceived while they are visible ;
the intense hollow blue of the upper sky
melting through it all, showing here deep
and pure, and lightness ; there, modulated
by the filmy, formless body of the trans
parent vapour, till it is lost imperceptibly
in its crimson and gold.”
' It is in some cases indeed “ not color
but conflagration,” and though the tints
are richer and more varied towards morn
ing and at sunset, the glorious kaleidoscope
goes on all day long. Yet “ it is a strange
1 J. A. Symonds.
2 Gray’s Letters.
�THE PLEASURES OE LIRE
34
thing how little in general people know
about the sky. It is the part of creation
in which Nature has done more for the
sake of pleasing man, more for the sole
and evident purpose of talking to him and
teaching him, than in any other of her
works, and it is just the part in which we
least attend to her. There are not many
of her other works in which some more
material or essential purpose than the
mere pleasing of man is not answered by
every part of their organisation ; but
every essential purpose of the sky might,
so far as we know, be answered, if once
in three days, or thereabouts, a great,
ugly, black rain-cloud were brought up
over the blue, and everything well
watered, and so all left blue again till
next time, with perhaps a film of morning
and evening mist for dew. And instead
of this, there is-not a moment of any day
of our lives when Nature is not producing
scene after scene, picture after picture,
glory after glory, and working still upon
such exquisite and constant principles of
the most perfect beauty, that it is quite
certain it is all done for us, and intended
for our perpetual pleasure.” 1
Nor does the beauty end with the day.
“ Is it nothing to sleep under the canopy
of heaven, where we have the globe of
the earth for our place of repose, and the
glories of the heavens for our spectacle? ”2
For my part I always regret the custom
of shutting up our rooms in the evening,
as though there was nothing worth seeing
outside. What, however, can be more
beautiful than to “ look how the floor of
heaven is thick inlaid with patines of
bright gold,” or to watch the moon
journeying in calm and silver glory
through the night. And even if we do
not feel that “ the man who has seen the
rising moon break out of the clouds at
midnight, has been present like an Arch
angel at the creation of light and of the
world,”3 still “ the stars say something
significant to all of us : and each man
has a whole hemisphere of them, if he
r Ruskin.
2 Seneca.
3 Emerson.
PART I
will but look up, to counsel and befriend
him ” ;1 for it is not so much, as Helps
elsewhere observes, “in guiding us over
the seas of our little planet, but out of
the dark waters of'our own perturbed
minds, that we may make to ourselves
the most of their significance.” Indeed,
“ How beautiful is night !
A dewy freshness fills the silent air ;
No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor
stain,
Breaks the serene of heaven :
In full-orbed glory yonder moon divine
Rolls through the dark blue depths ;
Beneath her steady ray
The desert circle spreads,
Like the round ocean, girdled with the sky ;
How beautiful is night ! ” 2
I have never wondered at those who
worshipped the sun and moon.
On the other hand, when all outside is
dark and cold ; when perhaps
“ Outside fall the snowflakes lightly ;
Through the night loud raves the storm ;
In my room the fire glows brightly,
And ’tis cosy, silent, warm.
Musing sit I on the settle
By the firelight’s cheerful blaze,
Listening to the busy kettle
Humming long-forgotten lays.” 3
For after all the true pleasures of home
are not without, but within ; and “ the
domestic man who loves no music so well
as his -own kitchen clock and the airs
which the logs sing to him as they burn
on the hearth, has solaces which others
never dream of.” 4
We love the ticking of the clock, and
the flicker of the fire, like the sound of
the cawing of rooks, not so much for any
beauty of their own as for their associations.
It is a great truth that when we re
tire into ourselves we can call up what
memories we please.
“ How dear to this heart are the scenes of my
childhood,
When fond recollection recalls them to view.—
The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled
wildwood
And every lov’d spot which my infancy knew.” 5
1 Helps.
2 Southey.
3 Heine, trans, by E. A. Bowring.
4 Emerson,
8 Woodworth.
�THE PLEASURES OF HOME
CHAP. VIII
It is not so much the
“ Fireside enjoyments,
And all the comforts of the lowly roof,” 1
but rather, according to the higher and
better ideal of Keble,
“ Sweet is the smile of home ; the mutual look,
When hearts are of each other sure ;
Sweet all the joys that crowd the household
nook,
The haunt of all affections pure.”
In ancient times, not only among
savage races, but even among the Greeks
themselves, there seems to have been but
little family life.
What a contrast was the home life of
the Greeks, as it seems to have been, to
that, for instance, described by Cowley—
a home happy “ in books and gardens,”
and above all, in a
“ Virtuous wife, where thou dost meet
Both pleasures more refined and sweet;
The fairest garden in her looks
And in her mind the wisest books.”
No one who has ever loved mother or
wife, sister or daughter, can read without
astonishment and pity St. Chrysostom’s
description of woman as “a necessary
evil, a natural temptation, a desirable
calamity, a domestic peril, a deadly fascina
tion, and a painted ill.”
In few respects has mankind made a
greater advance than in the relations of
men and women. It is terrible to think
how women suffer in savage life; and
even among the intellectual Greeks, with
rare exceptions, they seem to have been
treated rather as housekeepers or play
things than as the Angels who make a
Heaven of home.
The Hindoo proverb that you should
“ never strike a wife, even with a flower,”
though a considerable advance, tells a
melancholy tale of what must previously
have been.
In The Origin of Civilisation I have
given many cases showing how small a
part family affection plays in savage life.
Here I will only mention one case
in illustration. The Algonquin (North i
1 Cowper.
|
35
America) language contained no word
for “ love,” so that when the missionaries
translated the Bible into it they were
obliged to invent one. What a life, and
what a language, without love.
Yet in marriage even the rough passion
of a savage may contrast favourably with
any cold calculation, which, like the en
chanted hoard of the Nibelungs, is almost
sure to bring misfortune. In the Kalevala,
the Finnish epic, the divine smith, Ilmarinnen, forges a bride of gold and silver
for Wainamoinen, who was pleased at first
to have so rich a wife, but soon found
her intolerably cold, for, in spite of fires
and furs, whenever he touched her she
froze him.
Moreover, apart from mere coldness,
how much we suffer from foolish quarrels
about trifles ; from mere misunderstand
ings ; from hasty words thoughtlessly
repeated, sometimes without the context
or tone which would have deprived them
of any sting. How much would that
charity which “beareth all things, believeth all things, bopeth all things,
endureth all things,” effect to smooth
away the sorrows of life and add to the
happiness of home. Home indeed may
be a sure haven of repose from the storms
and perils of the world. But to secure
this we must not be content to pave it
with good intentions, but must make it
bright and cheerful.
If our life be one of toil and of suffer
ing, if the world outside be cold and
dreary, what a pleasure to return to
the sunshine of happy faces and the
warmth of hearts we love.
�36
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
’Twas she discovered that the world was
young,
And taught a language to its lisping tongue.”
CHAPTER IX
SCIENCE 1
“Happy is he that findeth wisdom,
And the man that getteth understanding :
For the merchandise of it is better than silver,
And the gain thereof than fine gold.
She is more precious than rubies :
And all the things thou canst desire are not to
be compared unto her.
Length of days is in her right hand,
And in her left hand riches and honour.
Her ways are ways of pleasantness,
And all her paths are peace.”
Proverbs
of
PART I
Solomon.
Those who have not tried for themselves
can hardly imagine how much Science
adds to the interest and variety of life.
It is altogether a mistake to regard it as
dry, difficult, or prosaic—-much of it is
as easy as it is interesting. A wise in
stinct of old united the prophet and the
“ seer.” “ The wise man’s eyes are in
his head, but the fool walketh in dark
ness.” Technical works, descriptions of
species, etc., bear the same relation to
science as dictionaries do to literature.
Occasionally, indeed, Science may de
stroy some poetical myth of antiquity,
such as the ancient Hindoo explanation
of rivers, that “ Indra dug out their beds
with his thunderbolts, and sent them
forth by long continuous paths ; ” but
the real causes of natural phenomena are
far more striking, and contain more true
poetry, than those which have occurred
to the untrained imagination of mankind.
In endless aspects science is as wonder
ful and interesting as a fairy tale.
‘ ‘ There are things whose strong reality
Outshines our fairyland ; in shape and hues
More beautiful than our fantastic sky,
And the strange constellations which the Muse
O’er her wild universe is skilful to diffuse.” 2
Mackay justly exclaims :
“Blessings on Science! When the earth
seemed old,
When Faith grew doting, and our reason cold,
1 The substance of this was delivered at
Mason College, Birmingham.
2 Byron.
Botany, for instance, is by many re
garded as a dry science. Yet though
without it we may admire flowers and
trees, it is only as strangers, only as one
may admire a great man or a beautiful
woman in a crowd. The botanist, on the
contrary—nay, I will not say the botanist,
but one with even a slight knowledge of
that delightful science—when he goes
out into the woods, or into one of those
fairy forests which we call fields, finds
himself welcomed by a glad company of
friends, every one with something inter
esting to tell. Dr. Johnson said that, in
his opinion, when you had seen one
green field you had seen them all; and a
greater even than Johnson—Socrates—
the very type of intellect without science,
said he was always anxious to learn, and
from fields and trees he could learn
nothing.
It has, I know, been said that botanists
“Love not the flower they pluck and know it
not,
And all their botany is but Latin names. ”
Contrast this, however, with the language
of one who would hardly claim to be a
master in botany, though he is certainly a
loving student. “Consider,” says Ruskin,
“ what we owe to the meadow grass, to
the covering of the dark ground by that
glorious enamel, by the companies of
those soft, countless, and peaceful spears
of the field ! Follow but for a little
time the thought of all that we ought to
recognise in those words. All spring and
summer is in them—the walks by silent
scented paths, the rest in noonday heat,
the joy of the herds and flocks, the power
of all shepherd life and meditation; the
life of the sunlight upon the world, fall
ing in emerald streaks and soft blue
shadows, when else it would have struck
on the dark mould or scorching dust;
pastures beside the pacing brooks, soft
banks and knolls of lowly hills, thymy
slopes of down overlooked by the blue
�CHAP. IX
SCIENCE
line of lifted sea ; crisp lawns all dim
with early dew, or smooth in evening
warmth of barred sunshine, dinted by
happy feet, softening in their fall the
sound of loving voices.”
My own tastes and studies have led
me mainly in the direction of Natural
History and Archaeology ; but if you
love one science, you cannot but feel in
tense interest in them all. How grand
are the truths of Astronomy ! Prudhomme, in a sonnet, beautifully trans
lated by Arthur O’Shaugnessy, has
pictured an Observatory. He says—
“ ’Tis late ; the astronomer in his lonely height,
Exploring all the dark, descries afar
Orbs that like distant isles of splendour are.”
He notices a comet, and calculating its
orbit, finds that it will return in a
thousand years—
“ The star will come. It dare not by one hour
Cheat Science, or falsify her calculation ;
Men will have passed, but, watchful in the
tower,
Man shall remain in sleepless contemplation ;
And should all men have perished in their
turn,
Truth in their place would watch that star’s
return.”
Ernest Rhys well says of a student’s
chamber—
“ Strange things pass nightly in this little room,
All dreary as it looks by light of day ;
Enchantment reigns here when at evening
play
Red fire-light glimpses through the pallid
gloom.”
And the true student, in Ruskin’s words,
stands on an eminence from which he
looks back on the universe of God and
forward over the generations of men.
Even if it be true that science was dry
when it was buried in huge folios, that is
certainly no longer the case now ; and
Lord Chesterfield’s wise wish, that Minerva
might have three Graces as well as Venus,
has been amply fulfilled.
The study of natural history indeed
seems destined to replace the loss of what
is, not very happily I think, termed
“ sport; ” engraven in us as it is by the
37
operation of thousands of years, during
which man lived greatly on the produce
of the chase. Game is gradually becoming
“small by degrees and beautifully less.”
Our prehistoric ancestors hunted the
Mammoth, the woolly-haired Rhinoceros,
and the Irish Elk ; the ancient Britons
had the wild ox, the deer, and the wolf.
We have still the pheasant, the partridge,
the fox, and the hare; but even these are
becoming scarcer, and must be preserved
first, in order that they may be killed
afterwards. Some of us even now—and
more, no doubt, will hereafter—satisfy
instincts, essentially of the same origin, by
the study of birds, or insects, or even
infusoria—of creatures which more than
make up by their variety what they want
in size.
Emerson avers that when a naturalist
has “got all snakes and lizards in his
phials, science has done for him also, and
has put the man into a bottle.” I do not
deny that there are such cases, but they
are quite exceptional. The true naturalist
is no mere dry collector.
I cannot resist, although it is rather
long, quoting the following description
from Hudson and Gosse’s beautiful work
on the Rotifera :—
“ On the Somersetshire side of the Avon,
and not far from Clifton, is a little combe,
at the bottom of which lies an old fish-pond,
Its slopes are covered with plantations of
beech and fir, so as to shelter the pond on
three sides, and yet leave it open to the
soft south-western breezes, and to the
afternoon sun. At the head of the combe
wells up a clear spring, which sends a
thread of water, trickling through a bed
of osiers, into the upper end of the pond.
A stout stone wall has been drawn across
the combe from side to side, so as to dam
up the stream ; and there is a gap in one
corner through which the overflow finds
its way in a miniature cascade, down into
the lower plantation.
“ If we approach the pond by the game
keeper’s path from the cottage above, we
shall pass through the plantation, and
come unseen right on the corner of the
�38
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
wall; so that one quiet step will enable
us to see at a glance its whole surface,
without disturbing any living thing that
may be there.
“Far off at the upper end a water-hen
is leading her little brood among the
willows ; on the fallen trunk of an old
beech, lying half way across the pond, a
vole is sitting erect, rubbing his right ear,
and the splash of a beech husk just at our
feet tells of a squirrel who is dining some
where in the leafy crown above us.
“ But see, the water-rat has spied us out,
and is making straight for his hole in the
bank, while the ripple above him is the
only thing that tells of his silent flight.
The water-hen has long ago got under
cover, and the squirrel drops no more
husks. It is a true Silent Pond, and
without a sign of life.
“But if, retaining sense and sight, we
could shrink into living atoms and plunge
under the water, of what a world of
wonders should we then form part ! We
should find this fairy kingdom peopled
with the strangest creatures—creatures
that swim with their hair, that have ruby
eyes blazing deep in their necks, with
telescopic limbs that now are withdrawn
wholly within their bodies and now
stretched out to many times their own
length. Here are some riding at anchor,
moored by delicate threads spun out from
their toes ; and there are others flashing
by in glass armour, bristling with sharp
spikes or ornamented with bosses and
flowing curves ; while fastened to a green
stem is an animal convolvulus that, by
some invisible power, draws a neverceasing stream of victims into its gaping
cup, and tears them to death with hooked
jaws deep down within its body.
“ Close by it, on the same stem, is some
thing that looks like a filmy heart’s-ease.
A curious wheelwork runs round its four
outspread petals ; and a chain of minute
things, living and dead, is winding in and
out of their curves into a gulf at the back
of the flower. What happens to them
there we cannot see ; for round the stem
is raised a tube of golden-brown balls, all j
PART I
regularly piled on each other. Some
creature dashes by, and like a flash the
flower vanishes within its tube.
“We sink still lower, and now see on
the bottom slow gliding lumps of jelly
that thrust a shapeless arm out where they
will, and grasping their prey with these
chance limbs, wrap themselves round their
food to get a meal; for they creep without
feet, seize without hands, eat without
mouths, and digest without stomachs.”
Too many, however, still feel only in
Nature that which we share “ with the
weed and the worm ; ” they love birds as
boys do—that is, they love throwing
stones at them ; or wonder if they are good
to eat, as the Esquimaux asked about the
watch ; or treat them as certain devout
Afreedee villagers are said to have treated
a descendant of the Prophet—killed him
in order to worship at his tomb: but
gradually we may hope that the love of
Science—the notes “we sound upon the
strings of nature ”1—-will become to more
and more, as already it is to many, a
“ faithful and sacred element of human
feeling.”
Science summons us
“ To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder,
Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon
supply ;
Its choir the winds and waves, its organ thunder,
Its dome the sky.” 2
Where the untrained eye will see
nothing but mire and dirt, Science will
often reveal exquisite possibilities. The
mud we tread under our feet in the street
is a grimy mixture of clay and sand, soot
and water. Separate the sand, however,
as Ruskin observes—-let the atoms arrange
themselves in peace according to their
nature—and you have the opal. Separate
the clay, and it becomes a white earth,
fit for the finest porcelain; or if it still
further purifies itself, you have a sapphire.
Take the soot, and if properly treated it
will give you a diamond. While, lastly,
the water, purified and distilled, will
become a dew-drop, or crystallise into a
lovely star. Or, again, you may see as
1 Emerson.
2 H. Smith.
�CHAP. IX
SCIENCE
39
you will in any shallow pool either the many years ago by Professor Huxley to
mud lying at the bottom, or the image the South London Working Men’s College
of the heavens above.
which struck me very much at the time,
Nay, even if we imagine beauties and and which puts this in language more
charms which do not really exist ; still if forcible than any which I could use.
we err at all, it is better to do so on the
“Suppose,” he said, “it were perfectly
side of charity; like Nasmyth, who tells certain that the life and fortune of every
us in his delightful autobiography, that one of us would, one day or other, depend
he used to think one of his friends had a upon his winning or losing a game of
charming and kindly twinkle, and was chess. Don’t you think that we should
one day surprised to discover that he all consider it to be a primary duty to
had a glass eye.
learn at least the names and the moves of
But I should err indeed were I to the pieces ? Do you not think that we
dwell exclusively on science as lending should look with a disapprobation amount
interest and charm to our leisure hours. ing to scorn upon the father who allowed
Far from this, it would be impossible his son, or the State which allowed its
to overrate the importance of scientific members, to grow up without knowing a
training on the wise conduct of life.
pawn from a knight ? Yet it is a very
“ Science,” said the Royal Commission plain and elementary truth that the life,
of 1861, “quickens and cultivates directly the fortune, and the happiness of every
the faculty of observation, which in very one of us, and more or less of those who
many persons lies almost dormant through are connected with us, do depend upon
life, the power of accurate and rapid our knowing something of the rules of a
generalisation, and the mental habit of game infinitely more difficult and compli
method and arrangement; it accustoms cated than chess. It is a game which
young persons to trace the sequence of has been played for untold ages, every
cause and effect; it familiarises them with man and woman of us being one of the
a kind of reasoning which interests them, two players in a game of his or her own.
and which they can promptly compre The chessboard is the world, the pieces
hend • and it is perhaps the best correc are the phenomena of the Universe, the
tive for that indolence which is the vice rules of the game are what we call the
of half-awakened minds, and which shrinks laws of Nature. The player on the other
from any exertion that is not, like an side is hidden from us. We know that
effort of memory, merely mechanical.”
his play is always fair, just, and patient.
Again, when we contemplate the gran But also we know to our cost that he
deur of science, if we transport ourselves never overlooks a mistake or makes the
in imagination back into primeval times, smallest allowance for ignorance. To the
or away into the immensity of space, man who plays well the highest stakes
our little troubles and sorrows seem to are paid, with that sort of overflowing
shrink into insignificance. “ Ah, beautiful generosity which with the strong shows
creations ! ” says Helps, speaking of the delight in strength. And one who plays
stars, “it is not in guiding us over the ill is checkmated—without haste, but
seas of our little planet, but out of the without remorse.”
dark waters of our own perturbed minds,
I have elsewhere1 endeavoured to show
that we may make to ourselves the most the purifying and ennobling influence of
of your significance.” They teach, he tells science upon religion ; how it has assisted,
us elsewhere, “something significant to if indeed it may not claim the main share,
all of us; and each man has a whole in sweeping away the dark superstitions,
hemisphere of them, if he will but look the degrading belief in sorcery and witch
up, to counsel and befriend him.”
craft, and the cruel, however well-intenThere is a passage in an address given
1 The, Origin of Civilisation.
�40
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
tioned, intolerance which embittered the
Christian world almost from the very days
of the Apostles themselves. In this she
has surely performed no mean service to
religion itself. As Canon Fremantle has
well and justly said, men of science, and not
the clergy only, are ministers of religion.
Again, the national necessity for
scientific education is imperative. We
are apt to forget how much we owe to
science, because so many of its wonderful
gifts have become familiar parts of our
everyday life, that their very value makes
us forget their origin. At the recent
celebration of the sexcentenary of Peterhouse College, near the close of a long
dinner, Sir Frederick Bramwell was called
on, some time after midnight, to return
thanks for Applied Science. He excused
himself from making a long speech on the
ground that, though the subject was
almost inexhaustible, the only illustration
which struck him as appropriate under
the circumstances was “ the application
of the domestic lucifer to the bedroom
candle.” One cannot but feel how un
fortunate was the saying of the poet that
“The light-outspeeding telegraph
Bears nothing on its beam.”
The report of the Royal Commission
on Technical Instruction, which has
recently been issued, teems with illustra
tions of the advantages afforded by
technical instruction. At the same time,
technical training ought not to begin too
soon, for, as Bain truly observes, “ in a
right view of scientific education the first
principles and leading examples, with
select details, of all the great sciences,
are the proper basis of the complete and
exhaustive study of any single science.”
Indeed, in the words of Sir John Herschel,
“it can hardly be pressed forcibly enough
on the attention of the student of Nature,
that there is scarcely any natural pheno
menon which can be fully and completely
explained in all its circumstances, with
out a union of several, perhaps of all, the
sciences.” The most important secrets of
Nature are often hidden away in unex
pected places. Many valuable substances
PART I
have been discovered in the refuse of
manufactories ; and it was a happy
thought of Glauber to examine what
everybody else threw away. There is
perhaps no nation the future happiness
and prosperity of which depend more on
science than our own. Our population is
over 35,000,000, and is rapidly increas
ing. Even at present it is far larger
than our acreage can support.
Few
people whose business does not lie in the
study of statistics realise that we have
to pay foreign countries no less than
£150,000,000 a year for food. This, of
course, we purchase mainly by manu
factured articles. We hear even now a
great deal about depression of trade, and
foreign, especially American, competition ;
but let us look forward a hundred years
—no long time in the history of a nation.
Our coal supplies will then be greatly
diminished. The population of Great
Britain doubles at the present rate of
increase in about fifty years, so that we
should, if the present rate continues,
require to import over £400,000,000 a
year in food. How, then, is this to be
paid for ? We have before us, as usual,
three courses.
The natural rate of
increase may be stopped, which means
suffering and outrage ; or the population
may increase, only to vegetate in misery
and destitution; or, lastly, by the de
velopment of scientific training and
appliances, they may probably be main
tained in happiness and comfort. We
have, in fact, to make our choice between
science and suffering. It is only by
wisely utilising the gifts of science that
we have any hope of maintaining our
population in plenty and comfort.
Science, however, will do this for us if
we will only let her. She may be no
Fairy Godmother indeed, but she will
richly endow those who love her.
That discoveries, innumerable, marvel
lous, and fruitful, await the successful
explorers of Nature no one can doubt.
“We are so far,” says Locke, “from
being admitted into the secrets of Nature,
that we scarce so much as approach the
�CHAP. IX
SCIENCE
first entrance towards them.”
What
would one not give for a Science primer
of the next century ? for, to paraphrase a
well-known saying, even the boy at the
plough will then, know more of science
than the wisest of our philosophers do
now. Boyle entitled one of his essays
“ Of Man’s great Ignorance of the Uses
of Natural Things; or that there is no
one thing in Nature whereof the uses to
human life are yet thoroughly under
stood ”—a saying which is still as true
now as when it was written. And, lest I
should be supposed to be taking too
sanguine a view, let me give the authority
of Sir John Herschel, who says : “Since
it cannot but be that innumerable and
most important uses remain to be dis
covered among the materials and objects
already known to us, as well as among
those which the progress of science must
hereafter disclose, we may hence conceive
a well-grounded expectation, not only of
constant increase in the physical resources
of mankind, and the consequent improve
ment of their condition, but of continual
accession to our power of penetrating into
the arcana of Nature and becoming
acquainted with her highest laws.”
Nor is it merely in a material point of
view that science would thus benefit the
nation. She will raise and strengthen
the national, as surely as the individual,
character. The great gift which Minerva
offered to Paris is now freely tendered to
all, for we may apply to the nation, as
well as to the individual, Tennyson’s
noble lines :—
“ Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control:
These three alone lead life to sovereign power,
Yet not for power (power of herself
Would come uncalled for), but to live bylaw ;
Acting the law we live by without fear.”
“ In the vain and foolish exultation of
the heart,” said John Quincey Adams, at
the close of his final lecture on resigning
his chair at Boston, “ which the brighter
prospects of life will sometimes excite,
the pensive portress of Science shall call
you to the sober pleasures of her holy
cell. In the mortification of disappoint
4i
ment, her soothing voice shall whisper
serenity and peace. In social converse
with the mighty dead of ancient days,
you will never smart under the galling
sense of dependence upon the mighty
living of the present age. And in your
struggles with the world, should a crisis
ever occur, when even friendship may
deem it prudent to desert you, when
priest and Levite shall come and look on
you and pass by on the other side, seek
refuge, my unfailing friends, and be
assured you shall find it, in the friend
ship of Laelius and Scipio, in the
patriotism of Cicero, Demosthenes, and
Burke, as well as in the precepts and
example of Him whose law is love, and
who taught us to remember injuries only
to forgive them.”
Let me in conclusion quote the glow
ing description of our debt to science
given by Archdeacon Farrar in his address
at Liverpool College-—-testimony, more
over, all the more valuable, considering
the source from which it comes.
“In this great commercial city,” he
said, “ where you are surrounded by the
triumphs of science and of mechanism—
you, whose river is ploughed by the great
steamships whose white wake has been
called the fittest avenue to the palace
front of a mercantile people—you know
well that in the achievements of science
there is not only beauty and wonder, but
also beneficence and power. It is not
only that she has revealed to us infinite
space crowded with unnumbered worlds ;
infinite time peopled by unnumbered
existences ; infinite organisms hitherto in
visible but full of delicate and irridescent
loveliness ; but also that she has been, as
a great Archangel of Mercy, devoting
herself to the service of man. She has
laboured, her votaries have laboured, not
to increase the power of despots or add to
the magnificence of courts, but to extend
human happiness, to economise human
effort, to extinguish human pain. Where
of old, men toiled, half blinded and half
naked, in the mouth of the glowing
furnace to mix the white-hot iron, she
�THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
42
now substitutes the mechanical action of
the viewless air. She has enlisted the
sunbeam in her service to limn for us,
with absolute fidelity, the faces of the
friends we love. She has shown the
poor miner how he may work in safety,
even amid the explosive fire-damp of the
mine.
She has, by her anaesthetics,
enabled the sufferer to be hushed and
unconscious while the delicate hand of
some skilled operator cuts a fragment
from the nervous circle of the unquiver
ing eye. She points not to pyramids
built during weary centuries by the
sweat of miserable nations, but to the
lighthouse and the steamship, to the rail
road and the telegraph. She has restored
eyes to the blind and hearing to the deaf.
She has lengthened life, she has minimised
danger, she has controlled madness, she
has trampled on disease. And on all
these grounds, I think that none of our
sons should grow up wholly ignorant of
studies which at once train the reason
and fire the imagination, which fashion as
well as forge, which can feed as well as
fill the mind.”
CHAPTER X
EDUCATION
“No pleasure is comparable to the standing
upon the vantage ground of truth.”—Bacon.
‘ ‘ Divine Philosophy !
Not harsh and crabbed as dull fools suppose,
But musical as is Apollo’s lute,
And a perpetual feast of nectar’d sweets
Where no crude surfeit reigns.”—Milton.
It may seem rather surprising to include
education among the pleasures of life ;
for in too many cases it is made odious
to the young, and is supposed to cease
with school; while, on the contrary, if it
is to be really successful it must be suit
able, and therefore interesting, to children,
and must last through life. The very
process of acquiring knowledge is a
privilege and a blessing. It used to be
PART I
said that there was no royal road to learn
ing : it would be more true to say that
the avenues leading to it are all royal.
“It is not,” says Jeremy Taylor, “the
eye that sees the beauties of heaven, nor
the ear that hears the sweetness of music,
or the glad tidings of a prosperous
accident; but the soul that perceives all
the relishes of sensual and intellectual
perceptions: and the more noble and
excellent the soul is, the greater and
more savoury are its perceptions. And
if a child behold the rich ermine, or the
diamonds of a starry night, or the order
of the world, or hears the discourses of
an apostle ; because he makes no reflex
act on himself and sees not what he sees,
he can have but the pleasure of a fool or
the deliciousness of a mule.”
Herein lies the importance of educa
tion. I say education rather than in-,
struction, because it is far more important
to cultivate the mind than to store the
memory. Instruction is only a part of
education : the true teacher has been well
described by Montgomery :
‘ ’ And while in tones of sportive tenderness,
He answer’d all its questions, and ask’d others
As simple as its own, yet wisely framed
To wake and prove an infant’s faculties ;
As though its mind were some sweet instru
ment,
And he, with breath and touch, were finding
out
What stops or keys would yield the richest
music.”
Studies are a means and not an end.
“To spend too much time in studies is
sloth ; to use them too much for orna
ment is affectation ; to make judgment
wholly by their rules is the humour of a
scholar : they perfect nature, and are per
fected by experience. . . . Crafty men
contemn studies, simple men admire
them, and wise men use them.” 1
Moreover, though, as Mill says, “in
the comparatively early state of human
development in which we now live, a
person cannot indeed feel that entireness
of sympathy with all others which would
make any real discordance in the general
1 Bacon.
�EDUCATION
CHAP. X
direction of tlieir conduct in life impos
sible,” yet education might surely do more
to root in us the feeling of unity with our
fellow-creatures. At any rate, if we do
not study in this spirit, all our learning
will but leave us as weak and sad as
Faust.
Our studies should be neither “a
couch on which to rest; nor a cloister in
which to promenade alone ; nor a tower
from which to look down on others; nor
a fortress whence we may resist them ;
nor a workshop for gain and merchandise ;
but a rich armoury and treasury for the
glory of the creator and the ennoblement
of life.” 1
For in the noble words of Epictetus,
“ you will do the greatest service to the
state if you shall raise, not the roofs of
the houses, but the souls of the citizens :
for it is better that great souls should
dwell in small houses rather than for
mean slaves to lurk in great houses.”
It is then of great importance to con
sider whether our present system of
education is the one best calculated to
fulfil these great objects. Does it really
give that love of learning which is better
than learning itself ? Does all the study
of the classics to which our sons devote
so many years give any just appreciation
of them; or do they not on leaving
college too often feel with Byron—
“ Then farewell, Horace ; whom I hated so ! ”
Too much concentration on any one
subject is a great mistake, especially in
early life. Nature herself indicates the
true system, if we would but listen to
her. Our instincts are good guides,
though not infallible, and children will
profit little by lessons which do not
interest them. In cheerfulness, says
Pliny, is the success of our studies—
“ studia hilaritate proveniunt ”—and we
may with advantage take a lesson from
Theognis, who, in his Ode on the
Marriage of Cadmus and Harmonia,
makes the Muses sing —
1 Bacon.
43
‘ ‘ What is good and fair,
Shall ever be our care ;
Thus the burden of it rang,
That shall never be our care,
Which is neither good nor fair.
Such were the words your lips immortal sang.”
There are some who seem to think
that our educational system is as good as
possible, and that the only remaining
points of importance are the number of
schools and scholars, the question of fees,
the relation of voluntary and board
schools, etc. “No doubt,” says Mr.
Symonds, in his Sketches in Italy and
Greece, “ there are many who think that
when we not only advocate education but
discuss the best system we are simply
beating the air ; that our population is
as happy and cultivated as can be, and
that no substantial advance is really
possible. Mr. Galton, however, has ex
pressed the opinion, and most of those
who have written on the social condition
of Athens seem to agree with him, that
the population of Athens, taken as a
whole, was as superior to us as we are to
Australian savages.”
That there is, indeed, some truth in
this, probably no student of Greek history
will deny. Why, then, should this be so ?
I cannot but think that our system of
education is partly responsible.
Manual and science teaching need not
in any way interfere with instruction in
other subjects. Though so much has
been said about the importance of science
and the value of technical instruction, or
of hand-training, as I should prefer to
call it, it is unfortunately true that in
our system of education, from the highest
schools downwards, both of them are
sadly neglected, and the study of language
reigns supreme.
This is no new complaint. Ascham,
in The Schoolmaster, long ago lamented
it; Milton, in his letter to Mr. Samuel
Hartlib, complained “ that our children
are forced to stick unreasonably in these
grammatick flats and shallows ; ” and
observes that, “though a linguist should
pride himself to have all the tongues
�44
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
Babel cleft tlie world into, yet, if he have
not studied the solid things in them as
well as the words and lexicons, he were
nothing so much to be esteemed a learned
man as any yeoman or tradesman com
petently wise in his mother dialect only ; ”
and Locke said that “ schools fit us for
the university rather than for the world.”
Commission after commission, committee
after committee, have reiterated the same
complaint. How then do we stand now ?
I see it indeed constantly stated that,
even if the improvement is not so rapid
as could be desired, still we are making
considerable progress. But is this so ?
I fear not.
I fear that our present
system does not really train the mind, or
cultivate the power of observation, or
even give the amount of information
which we may reasonably expect from the
time devoted to it.
Sir M. E. Grant-Duff has expressed
the opinion that a boy or girl of fourteen
might reasonably be expected to “read
aloud clearly and agreeably, to write a
large distinct round hand, and to know
the ordinary rules of arithmetic, especially
compound addition — a by no cneans
universal accomplishment; to speak and
write French with ease and correctness,
and have some slight acquaintance with
French literature ; to translate ad aperturam libri from an ordinary French
or German book ; to have a thoroughly
good elementary knowledge of geography,
under which are comprehended some
notions of astronomy—enough to excite
his curiosity ; a knowledge of the very
broadest facts of geology and history—
enough to make him understand, in a
clear but perfectly general way, how the
larger features of the world he lives in,
physical and political, came to be like
what they are ; to have been trained from
earliest infancy to use his powers of
observation on plants, or animals, or rocks,
or other natural objects; and to have
gathered a general acquaintance with what
is most supremely good in that portion
of the more important English classics
which is suitable to his time of life; to
PART I
have some rudimentary acquaintance with
drawing and music.”
To effect this, no doubt, “industiy
must be our oracle, and reason our
Apollo,” as Sir T. Browne says ; but surely
it is no unreasonable estimate; yet how
far do we fall short of it ? General
culture is often deprecated because it is
said that smatterings are useless. But
there is all the difference in the world
between having a smattering of, or being
well grounded in, a subject. It is the
latter which we advocate-—to try to know,
as Lord Brougham well said, “ every
thing of something, and something of
everything.”
“It can hardly,” says Sir John Her
schel, “ be pressed forcibly enough on
the attention of the student of nature,
that there is scarcely any natural phe
nomenon which can be fully and com
pletely explained, in all its circumstances,
without a union of several, perhaps of all,
the sciences.”
The present system in most of our
public schools and colleges sacrifices
everything else to classics and arithmetic.
They are most important subjects, but
ought not to exclude science and modern
languages. Moreover, after all, our sons
leave college unable to speak either Latin
or Greek, and too often absolutely with
out any interest in classical history or
literature. But the boy who has been
educated without any training in science
has grave reason to complain of “ wisdom
at one entrance quite shut out.”
By concentrating the attention, indeed,
so much on one or two subjects, we defeat
our own object, and produce a feeling of
distaste where we wish to create an
interest.
Our great mistake in education is, as
it seems to me, the worship of book
learning—the confusion of instruction and
education. We strain the memory instead
of cultivating the mind. The children
in our elementary schools are wearied
by the mehanical act of wilting, and
the interminable intricacies of spelling;
they are oppressed by columns of dates
�CHAP. X
EDUCATION
45
by lists of kings and places, which convey man he was. I doubt, however, whether
no definite idea to their minds, and have the boys were deceived by the hat ; and
no near relation to their daily wants am very sceptical about Dr. Busby’s
and occupations; while in our public theory of education.
schools the same unfortunate results are
Master John of Basingstoke, who was
produced by the weary monotony of Latin Archdeacon of Leicester in 1252, learnt
and Greek grammar. We ought to follow Greek during a visit to Athens, from
exactly the opposite course with children Constantina, daughter of the Archbishop
—to give them a wholesome variety of of Athens, and used to say afterwards
mental food, and endeavour to cultivate that though he had studied well and
their tastes, rather than to fill their minds diligently at the University of Paris, yet
with dry facts. The important thing is he learnt more from an Athenian maiden
not so much that every child should be of twenty. We cannot all study so
taught, as that every child should be pleasantly as this, but the main fault
given the wish to learn. What does it I find with Dr. Busby’s system is that
matter if the pupil knows a little more or it keeps out of sight the great fact of
a little less ? A boy who leaves school human ignorance.
knowing much, but hating his lessons,
Boys are given the impression that
will soon have forgotten almost all he the masters know everything. If, on the
ever learnt; while another who had contrary, the great lesson impressed on
acquired a thirst for knowledge, even if them was that what we know is as nothing
he had learnt little, would soon teach to what we do not know, that the “great
himself more than the first ever knew. ocean of truth lies all undiscovered before
Children are by nature eager for informa us,” surely this would prove a great
tion. They are always putting questions. stimulus, and many would be nobly
This ought to be encouraged. In fact, anxious to enlarge the boundaries of
we may to a great extent trust to their human knowledge, and extend the in
instincts, and in that case they will do I tellectual kingdom of man. Philosophy,
much to educate themselves. Too often, says Aristotle, begins in wonder, for Iris
however, the acquirement of knowledge is the child of Thaumas.
is placed before them in a form so irk
Education ought not to cease w’hen we
some and fatiguing that all desire for leave school; but if well begun there,
information is choked, or even crushed will continue through life.
out; so that our schools, in fact, become
Moreover, whatever our occupation
places for the discouragement of learning, or profession in life may be, it is most
and thus produce the very opposite effect desirable to create for ourselves some
from that at which we aim. In short, other special interest. In the choice of
children should be trained to observe and a subject every one should consult his
to think, for in that way there would own instincts and interests. I will not
be opened out to them a source of the attempt to suggest whether it is better to
purest enjoyment for leisure hours, and pursue art or science ; whether we should
the wisest judgment in the work of study the motes in the sunbeam, or the
life.
heavenly bodies themselves. Whatever
Another point in which I venture to may be the subject of our choice, we shall
think that our system of education might find enough, and more than enough, to
be amended, is that it tends at present repay the devotion of a lifetime.
to give the impression that everything is
Life no doubt is paved with enjoyments,
known.
but we must all expect times of anxiety,
Dr. Busby is said to have kept his of suffering, and of sorrow ; and when
hat on in the presence of King Charles, these come it is an inestimable comfort to
that the boys might see what a great have some deep interest which will, at
�46
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
any rate to some extent, enable us to escape
from ourselves.
“ A cultivated mind,” says Mill—“ I do
not mean that of a philosopher, but any
mind to which the fountains of knowledge
have been opened, and which has been
taught in any tolerable degree to exercise
its faculties—will find sources of inex
haustible interest in all that surrounds
it; in the objects of nature, the achieve
ments of art, the imaginations of poetry,
the incidents of history, the ways of man
kind, past and present, and their prospects
in the future. It is possible, indeed, to
become indifferent to all this, and that too
without having exhausted a thousandth
part of it ; but only when one has had
from the beginning no moral or human
interest in these things, and has sought in
them only the gratification of curiosity.”
I have been subjected to some goodnatured banter for having said that I
looked forward to a time when our artizans
and mechanics would be great readers. But
it is surely not unreasonable to regard our
social condition as susceptible of great im
provement. The spread of schools, the
cheapness of books, the establishment of
free libraries will, it may be hoped, exercise
a civilising and ennobling influence. They
will even, I believe, do much to diminish
poverty and suffering, so much of which
is due to ignorance and to the want of
interest and brightness in uneducated life.
So far as our elementary schools are con
cerned, there is no doubt much difficulty in
apportioning the National Grant without
unduly stimulating mere mechanical in
struction. But this is not the place to dis
PART I
cuss the subject of religious or moral train
ing, or the system of apportioning the grant.
If we succeed in giving the love of learn
ing, the learning itself is sure to follow.
We should therefore endeavour to edu
cate our children so that every country
walk may be a pleasure ; that the dis
coveries of science may be a living interest;
that our national history and poetry may
be sources of legitimate pride and rational
enjoyment. In short, our schools, if they
are to be worthy of the name—if they are
to fulfil their high function—must be
something more than mere places of dry
study ; they must train the children edu
cated in them so that they may be able
to appreciate and enjoy those intellectual
gifts which might be, and ought to be, a
source of interest and of happiness, alike
to the high and to the low, to the rich
and to the poor.
A wise system of education will at
least teach us how little man yet knows,
how much he has still to learn ; it will
enable us to realise that those ■who com
plain of the tiresome monotony of life
have only themselves to' blame ; and that
knowledge is pleasure as well as power.
It will lead us all to try with Milton “ to
behold the bright countenance of truth
in the quiet and still air of study,” and to
feel with Bacon that “no pleasure is com
parable to the standing upon the vantage
ground of truth.”
We should then indeed realise in part,
for as yet we cannot do so fully, the
“ sacred trusts of health, strength, and
time,” and how thankful we ought to be
for the inestimable gift of life.
�PAET II
��PREFACE
“ And what is writ, is writ—
Would it were worthier.”
Byron.
Herewith I launch the conclusion of my subject. Perhaps I am unwise in
publishing a second part. The first was so kindly received that I am running
a risk in attempting to add to it.
In the preface, however, to the first part I have expressed the hope that
the thoughts and quotations in which I have found most comfort and delight,
might be of use to others also.
In this my most sanguine hopes have been more than realised. Not only
has the book passed through twenty editions in less than three years, but the
many letters which I have received have been most gratifying.
Two criticisms have been repeated by several of those who have done me
the honor, of noticing my previous volume. It has been said in the first
place that my life has been exceptionally bright and full, and that I cannot
therefore judge for others. Nor do I attempt to do so. I do not forget, I
hope I am not ungrateful for, all that has been bestowed on me. But if I
have been greatly favoured, ought I not to be on that very account especially
qualified to write on such a theme 1 Moreover, I have had,—who has not,—
my own sorrows.
Again, some have complained that there is too much quotation—too little
of my own. This I take to be in reality a great compliment. I have not
striven to be original.
If, as I have been assured by many, my book has added to their power
of enjoying life, and has proved a comfort in the hours of darkness, that
is indeed an ample reward and is the utmost I have ever hoped.
High Elms, Down, Kent,
April 1889.
E
�CONTENTS
PART II
CHAP.
I. Ambition ....
51
II. Wealth ....
54
III. Health
....
IV. Love
....
V. Art
....
65
....
70
....
74
VI. Poetry
•VII. Music
VIII. The Beauties of Nature
IX. The Troubles of Life
.
X. Labour and Rest
XI. Religion .
XII. The Hope of Progress .
XIII. The Destiny of Man
56
61
79
86
89
92
98
102
�THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
PART II
CHAPTER I
I know, says Morris,
“ How far high failure overleaps the bound
Of low successes.”
AMBITION
“ Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth
raise
(That last infirmity of noble mind)
To scorn delights and live laborious days.”
Milton.
If fame be the last infirmity of noble
minds, ambition is often the first ; though,
when properly directed, it may be no
feeble aid to virtue.
Had not my youthful mind, says
Cicero, “ from many precepts, from many
writings, drunk in this truth, that glory
and virtue ought to be the darling, nay,
the only wish in life; that, to attain
these, the torments of the flesh, with the
perils of death and exile, are to be
despised ; never had I exposed my person
in so many encounters, and to these daily
conflicts with the worst of men, for your
deliverance. But, on this head, books
are full; the voice of the wise is full;
the examples of antiquity are full: and
all these the night of barbarism had still
enveloped, had it not been enlightened
by the sun of science.”
The poet tells us that
“The many fail: the one succeeds.”1
And Bacon assures us that “ if a man
look sharp and attentively he shall see
fortune; for though she is blind, she is
not invisible.”
To give ourselves a reasonable prospect
of success, we must realise what we
hope to achieve ; and then make the
most of our opportunities.
Of these the use of time is one of the
most important. What have we to do
with time, asks Oliver Wendell Holmes,
but to fill it up with labour. “At the
battle of Montebello,” said Napoleon, “I
ordered Kellermann to attack with 800
horse, and with these he separated the
6000 Hungarian grenadiers before the
very eyes of the Austrian cavalry. This
cavalry was half a league off, and required
a quarter of an hour to arrive on the
field of action ; and I have observed that
it is always these quarters of an hour
that decide the fate of a battle,” including,
we may add, the battle of life.
Nor must we spare ourselves in other
ways, for
“ He who thinks in strife
To earn a deathless fame, must do, nor ever
care for life.” 1
But this is scarcely true. All succeed
who deserve, though not perhaps as they
hoped. An honourable defeat is better
than a mean victory, and no one is really
the worse for being beaten, unless he
loses heart. Though we may not be able
to attain, that is no reason why we should
not aspire.
In the excitement of the struggle,
moreover, he will suffer comparatively
little from wounds and blows which
would otherwise cause intense pain.
It is well to weigh scrupulously the
object in view, to run as little risk as
may be, to count the cost with care.
1 Tennyson.
1 Beowulf.
�52
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
But when the mind is once made up,
there must be no looking back, you must
spare yourself no labour, nor shrink from
danger.
“ He either fears his fate too much
Or his deserts are small,
That dares not put it to the touch
To gain or lose it all.” 1
Glory, says Renan, “is after all the
thing which has the best chance of not
being altogether vanity.” But what is
glory ?
Marcus Aurelius observes that “ a
spider is proud when it has caught a fly,
a man when he has caught a hare,
another when he has taken a little fish
in a net, another when he has taken
wild boars, another when he has taken
bears, and another when he has taken
Sarmatians ; ”2 but this, if from one
point of view it shows the vanity of
lame, also encourages us with the evidence
that every one may succeed if his objects
are but reasonable.
Alexander may be taken as almost a
type of Ambition in its usual form,
though carried to an extreme.
His desire was to conquer, not to in
herit or to rule. When news was brought
that his father Philip had taken some
town, or won some battle, instead of
being delighted, he used to say to his
companions, “ My father will go on con
quering, till there be nothing extra
ordinary left for you and me to do.”3
He is said even to have been mortified at
the number of the stars, considering that
he had not been able to conquer one
world. Such ambition is justly fore
doomed to disappointment.
The remarks of Philosophers on the
vanity of ambition refer generally to that
unworthy form of which Alexander may
be taken as the type—the idea of self
exaltation, not only without any reference
to the happiness, but even regardless of
the sufferings, of others.
“A continual and restless search after
1 Montrose.
2 He is referring here to one of his expeditions.
3 Plutarch.
PART II
fortune,” says Bacon, “ takes up too much
of their time who have nobler things to
observe.” Indeed he elsewhere extends
this, and adds that “No man’s private
fortune can be an end in any way worthy
of his existence.”
Goethe well observes that man “ exists
for culture; not for what he can accom
plish, but for what can be accomplished
in him.” 1
As regards fame, we must not confuse
name and essence. To be remembered is
not necessarily to be famous. There is
infamy as well as fame; and unhappily
almost as many are remembered for the
one as for the other, and not a few for a
mixture of both.
Who would not, however, rather be
forgotten, than recollected as Ahab or
Jezebel, Nero or Commodus, Messalina
or Heliogabalus, King John or Richard
III.?
“To be nameless in worthy deeds ex
ceeds an infamous history. The Canaanitish woman lives more happily without
a name than Herodias with one ; and
■who would not rather have been the good
thief than Pilate ? ” 2
Kings and Generals are often remem
bered as much- for their misfortunes as
for their successes, for their deaths as for
their lives. The Hero of Thermopylae
was Leonidas, not Xerxes. Alexander’s
Empire fell to pieces at his death.
Napoleon was a great genius, though no
Hero. But what came of all his victories ?
They passed away like the smoke of his
guns and he left France weaker, poorer,
and smaller than he found her. The
most lasting result of his genius is no
military glory, but the Code Napoleon.
A surer and more glorious title to
fame is that of those who are remembered
for some act of justice or self-devotion:
the self-sacrifice of Leonidas, the good
faith of Regulus, are the glories of history.
In some cases where men have been
called after places, the men are remem
bered, while the places are forgotten.
When we speak of Palestrina or Perugino,
1 Emerson.
2 Sir T. Browne.
�CHAP. I
AMBITION
of Nelson or Wellington, of Newton or
Darwin, who remembers the towns ?
We think only of the men.
Goethe has been called the soul of his
century.
We have but meagre biographies of
Shakespeare or of Plato • yet how’ much
we know about them.
Statesmen and Generals enjoy great
celebrity during their lives. The news
papers chronicle every word and move
ment. But the fame of the Philosopher
and Poet is more enduring.
Wordsworth deprecates monuments to
Poets, with some exceptions, on this very
account. The case of Statesmen, he says,
is different. It is right to commemorate
them because they might otherwise be
forgotten ; but Poets live in their books
for ever.
The real conquerors of the world in
deed are not the generals but the
thinkers ; not Genghis Khan and Akbar,
Barneses, or Alexander, but Confucius
and Buddha, Aristotle, Plato, and Christ.
The rulers and kings wrho reigned over
our ancestors have for the most part long
since sunk into oblivion—they are for
gotten for want of some sacred bard to
give them life—or are remembered, like
Suddhodana and Pilate, from their associ
ation with higher spirits.
Such men’s lives cannot be compressed
into any biography.
They lived not
merely in their own generation, but for
all time. When we speak of the Eliza
bethan period we think of Shakespeare
and Bacon, Raleigh and Spenser. The
ministers and secretaries of state, with
one or two exceptions, we scarcely re
member, and Bacon himself is recollected
less as the Judge than as the Philosopher.
Moreover, to what do Generals and
Statesmen owe their fame? They were
celebrated for their deeds, but to the
Poet and the Historian they are indebted
for their immortality, and to the Poet and
Historian we owe their glorious memories
and the example of their virtues.
‘ ‘ Vixere fortes ante Agamemnona
Multi; sed omnes illacrimabiles
53
Urgentur ignotique Tonga
Nocte, carent quia vate sacro.”
Montrose happily combined the tw*o,
when in “ My dear and only love ” he
promises,
“ I’ll make thee famous by my pen,
And glorious by my sword.”
It is remarkable, and encouraging, how
many of the greatest men have risen
from the lowest rank, and triumphed
over obstacles which might well have
seemed insurmountable; nay, even ob
scurity itself may be a source of honour.
The very doubts as to Homer’s birthplace
have contributed to his glory, seven cities
as we all know laying claim to the great
poet—
“Smyrna, Rhodos, Colophon, Salamis, Chios,
Argos, Athenaj.”
Take men of Science only. Ray was
the son of a blacksmith, Watt of a ship
wright, Franklin of a tallow-chandler,
Dalton of a handloom weaver, Fraunhofer
of a glazier, Laplace of a farmer, Linnseus
of a poor curate, Faraday of a blacksmith,
Lamarck of a banker’s clerk ; George
Stephenson wras a working collier, Davy
an apothecary’s assistant, Wheatstone a
musicalinstrumentmaker; Galileo, Kepler,
Sprengel, Cuvier, and Sir W. Herschel
were all children of very poor parents.
It is, on the other hand, sad to think
how many of our greatest benefactors are
unknown even by name. Who discovered
the art of procuring fire ? Prometheus is
merely the personification of forethought.
Who invented letters ? Cadmus is a
mere name.
These inventions, indeed, are lost in
the mists of antiquity, but even as re
gards recent progress the steps are often
so gradual, and so numerous, that few in
ventions can be attributed entirely, or
even mainly, to any one person.
Columbus is said, and truly said, to
have discovered America, though the
Northmen were there before him.
We Englishmen have every reason to
be proud of our fellow-countrymen. To
�54
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
PART II
take Philosophers and men of Science what as the years roll on, does add to the
only, Bacon and Hobbes, Locke and comfort of life. But this is of course on
Berkeley, Hume and Hamilton, will the supposition that you are master of
always be associated with the progress of your money, that the money is not master
human thought; Newton with gravita of you.
tion, Adam Smith with Political Economy,
Unquestionably the possession of wealth
Young with the undulatory theory of is attended by many drawbacks. Money
light, Herschel with the discovery of and the love of money often go together.
Uranus and the study of the star depths, The poor man, as Emerson says, is the
Lord Worcester, Trevethick, and Watt man who wishes to be rich ; and the more
with the steam-engine, Wheatstone with a man has, the more he often longs to
the electric telegraph, Jenner with the be richer. Just as drinking often does
banishment of smallpox, Simpson with but increase thirst; so in many cases the
the practical application of anaesthetics, craving for riches grows with wealth
and Darwin with the creation of modern
This is, of course, especially the case
Natural History.
when money is sought for its own sake.
These men, and such as these, have Moreover, it is often easier to make money
made our history and moulded our than to keep or to enjoy it. Keeping it
opinions ; and though during life they is dull and anxious drudgery. The dread
may have occupied, comparatively, an of loss may hang like a dark cloud over
insignificant space in the eyes of their life. Seneca tells us that when Apicius
countrymen, they became at length an had squandered most of his patrimony,
irresistible power, and have now justly but had still 250,000 crowns left, he
grown to a glorious memory.
committed suicide, for fear he should die
of hunger.
Wealth is certainly no sinecure. More
over, the value of money depends partly
CHAPTER II
on knowing what to do with it, partly
WEALTH
on the manner in which it is acquired.
“ Acquire money, thy friends say, that
“ The rich and poor meet together : the Lord
is the maker of them all.” — Proverbs of we also may have some. If I can acquire
money and also keep myself modest, and
Solomon.
faithful, and magnanimous, point out the
Ambition often takes the form of a love way, and I will acquire it. But if you
of money. There are many who have ask me to lose the things which are good
never attempted Art or Music, Poetry or and my own, in order that you may gain
Science ; but most people do something things that are not good, see how unfair
for a livelihood, and consequently an and unwise you are. For which would
increase of income is not only acceptable you rather have? Money, or a faithful
in itself, but gives a pleasant feeling of and modest friend. . . .
success.
■“What hinders a man, who has clearly
Doubt is indeed often expressed whether comprehended these things, from living
wealth is any advantage. I do not my with a light heart, and bearing easily the
self believe that those who are born, as reins, quietly expecting everything which
the saying is, with a silver spoon in their can happen, and enduring that which has
mouth, are necessarily any the happier for already happened ? Would you have me
it. No doubt wealth entails almost more to bear poverty ? Come, and you will
labour than poverty, and certainly more know what poverty is when it has found
anxiety. Still it must, I think, be con one who can act well the part of a poor
fessed that the possession of an income, man.” 1
whatever it may be, which increases some
1 Epictetus.
�CHAP. II
WEALTH
We must bear in mind Solon’s answer
to Croesus, “ Sir, if any other come that
hath better iron than you, he will be
master of all this gold.”
Midas is another case in point. He
prayed that everything he touched might
be turned into gold, and this prayer was
granted. His wine turned to gold, his
bread turned to gold, his clothes, his very
bed.
“Attonitus novitate mali, divesque miserque,
Effugere optat opes, et quse modo voverat, odit.”
He is by no means the only man who
has suffered from too much gold.
The real truth I take to be that wealth
is not necessarily an advantage, but that
whether it is so or not depends on the
use we make of it. The same, however,
might be said of most other opportunities
and privileges ; Knowledge and Strength,
Beauty and Skill, may all be abused ; if
we neglect or misuse them we are worse
off than if we had never had them.
Wealth is only a disadvantage in the hands
of those who do not know how to use it.
It gives the command of so many other
things—leisure, the power of helping
others, books, works of art, opportunities
and means of travel.
It would, however, be easy to exagger
ate the advantages of money. It is well
worth having, and worth working for,
but it does not requite too great a sacri
fice ; not indeed so great as is often offered
up to it. A wise proverb tells us that
gold may be bought too dear. If wealth
is to be valued because it gives leisure,
clearly it would be a mistake to sacrifice
leisure in the struggle for wealth. Money
has no doubt also a tendency to make men
poor in spirit. But, on the other hand,
what gift is there which is without
danger ?
Euripides said that money finds friends
for men, and has great (he said the
greatest) power among Mankind, cynically
adding, “ Mighty indeed is a rich man,
especially if his heir be unknown.”
Bossuet tells us that “he had no
attachment to riches, still if he had only
55
what was barely necessary, he felt him
self narrowed, and would lose more than
half his talents.”
Shelley was certainly not an avaricious
man, and yet “ I desire money,” he said,
“ because I think I know the use of it.
It commands labour, it gives leisure ; and
to give leisure to those who will employ
it in the forwarding of truth is the noblest
present an individual can make to the
whole.”
Many will have felt with Pepys when
he quaintly and piously says, “ Abroad
with my wife, the first time that ever I
rode in my own coach ; which do make
my heart rejoice and praise God, and pray
him to bless it to me, and continue it.”
This, indeed, was a somewhat selfish
satisfaction. Yet the merchant need not
quit nor be ashamed of his profession,
bearing in mind only the inscription on
the Church of St. Giacomo de Bialto at
Venice: “ Around this temple let the
merchant’s law be just, his weights true,
and his covenants faithful.” 1
If, however, life has been sacrificed to
the rolling up of money for its own sake,
the very means by which it was acquired
will prevent its being enjoyed ; the chill
of poverty will have entered into the very
bones. The miser deprives himself of
everything, for fear lest some day he
should be deprived of something. The
term Miser was happily chosen for such
persons ; they are essentially miserable.
“ A collector peeps into all the picture
shops of Europe for a landscape of Poussin,
a crayon sketch of Salvator; but the
Transfiguration, the Last Judgment, the
Communion of St. Jerome, and what are
as transcendent as these, are on the walls
of the Vatican, the Uffizi, or the Louvre,
where every footman may see them ; to
say nothing of Nature’s pictures in every
street, of sunsets and sunrises every day,
and the sculpture of the human body
never absent. A collector recently bought
at public auction in London, for one
hundred and fifty-seven guineas, an auto
graph of Shakespeare : but for nothing a
1 Ruskin.
�56
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
schoolboy can read Hamlet, and can detect
secrets of highest concernment yet un
published therein.”1 And yet “What
hath the owner but the sight of it with
his eyes.” 2
We are really richer than we think.
We often hear of Earth hunger. People
envy a great Landlord, and fancy how
delightful it must be to possess a large
estate. But, too often, as Emerson says,
“if you own land, the land owns you.”
Moreover, have we not all, in a better
sense—have we not all thousands of acres
of our own ? The commons, and roads,
and footpaths, and the seashore, our grand
and varied coast—these are all ours.
The sea-coast has, moreover, two great
advantages. In the first place, it is for
the most part but little interfered with
by man, and in the second it exhibits most
instructively the forces of Nature.
We are, indeed, all great landed pro
prietors, if we only knew it. What we
lack is not land, but the power to enjoy it.
This great inheritance has the additional
advantage that it entails no labour, requires
no management. The landlord has the
trouble, but the landscape belongs to
every one who has eyes to see it. Thus
Kingsley called the heaths round Eversley
his “ winter garden ” ; not because they
were his in the eye of the law, but in that
higher sense in which ten thousand persons
may own the same thing.
CHAPTER III
HEALTH
“ Health is best for mortal man ; next beauty ;
thirdly, well gotten wealth ; fourthly, the
pleasure of youth among friends.”
Simonides.
But if there has been some difference of
opinion as to the advantage of wealth,
with reference to health all are agreed.
“Health,” said Simonides long ago, “is
best for mortal man ; next beauty ; thirdly,
well gotten wealth ; fourthly, the pleasure
1 Emerson.
2 Solomon.
PART II
of youth among friends.” “Life, ’ says
Longfellow, “ without health is a burden,
with health is a joy and gladness.” Em
pedocles delivered the people of Selinus
from a pestilence by draining a marsh, and
was hailed as a Demigod. We are told
that a coin was struck in his honour, re
presenting the Philosopher in the act of
staying the hand of Phoebus.
We scarcely realise, I think, how much
we owe to Doctors. Our system of Medi
cine seems so natural and obvious that it
hardly occurs to us as something new and
exceptional. When we are ill we send for
a Physician ; he prescribes some medicine ;
we take it, and pay his fee. But among
the lower races of men pain and illness
are often attributed to the presence of evil
spirits. The Medicine Man is a Priest, or
rather a Sorcerer, more than a true Doctor,
and his effort is to exorcise the evil Spirit.
In other countries where some advance
has been made, a charm is written on a
board, washed off, and drunk. In some
cases the medicine is taken, not by the
patient, but by the Doctor. Such a sys
tem, however, is generally transient; it is
naturally discouraged by the Profession,
and is indeed incompatible with a large
practice. Even as regards the payment
we find very different- systems. The
Chinese pay their medical man as long as
they are well, and stop his salary as soon
as they are ill. In ancient Egypt we are
told that the patient feed the Doctor for the
first few days, after which the Doctor paid
the patient until he made him well. This
is a fascinating system, but might afford
too much temptation to heroic remedies.
On the whole our plan seems the best,
though it does not offer adequate encour
agement to discovery and research. There
is probably some cure for cancer if we did
but know it. If, however, the substantial
rewards of discovery are inadequate, we
ought to be all the more grateful to such
men as Hunter and Jenner, Simpson and
Lister. And yet in the matter of health
we can generally do more for ourselves
than the greatest Doctors can for us.
But if all are agreed as to the blessing
�CHAP. Ill
HEALTH
of health, there are many who will not
take the little trouble, or submit to the
slight sacrifices, necessary to maintain it.
Many, indeed, deliberately ruin their own
health, and incur the certainty of an early
grave, or an old age of suffering.
No doubt some inherit a constitution
which renders health almost unattainable.
Pope spoke of that long disease, his life.
Many indeed may say, 111 suffer, therefore
I am.” But happily these cases are excep
tional. Most of us might be well, if we
would. It is very much our own fault
that we are ill. We do those things
which we ought not to do, and we leave
undone those things which we ought to
have done, and then we wonder that there
is no health in us.
Like Naaman, we expect our health to
be the subject of some miraculous interfer
ence, and neglect the homely precautions
by which it might be secured.
We all know that we can make ourselves
ill, but few perhaps realise how much we
can do to keep ourselves well. Much of
our suffering is self-inflicted. It has been
observed that among the ancient Egyptians
it seemed the chief aim of life to be well
buried. Many, however, live even now
as if this were the principal object of their
existence.
I am inclined to doubt whether the
study of health is sufficiently impressed
on the minds of those entering life. Not
that it is desirable to potter over minor
ailments, to con over books on illnesses,
or experiment on ourselves with medicine.
Far from it. The less we fancy ourselves
ill, or bother about little bodily discom
forts, the more likely perhaps we are to
preserve our health.
It is, however, a different matter to
study the general conditions of health. A
well-known proverb tells us that, by the
time he is forty, every one is either a fool
or a physician. Unfortunately, however,
many persons are invalids at forty as well
as physicians.
Ill-health, however, is no excuse for
moroseness. If we have one disease we
may at least congratulate ourselves that
57
we are escaping all the rest. Sydney
Smith, ever ready to look on the bright
side of things even when borne down by
suffering, wrote to a friend that he had
gout, asthma, and seven other maladies,
but was “otherwise very well”; and many
of the greatest invalids have borne their
sufferings with cheerfulness and good
spirits.
It is said that the celebrated physiog
nomist, Campanella, could so abstract his
attention from any sufferings of his body,
that he was even able to endure the rack
without much pain ; and whoever has the
power of concentrating his attention and
controlling his will, can emancipate him
self from most of the minor miseries of
life. He may have much cause for anxiety,
his body may be the seat of severe suffer
ing, and yet his mind will remain serene
and unaffected ; he may triumph over care
and pain.
It is sad to think how much unnecessary
suffering has been caused, and how many
valuable lives have been lost, through
ignorance or carelessness.
We cannot
but fancy that the lives of many great
men might have been much prolonged by
the exercise of a little ordinary care.
If we take musicians only, what a
grievous loss to the world it is that Pergolesi should have died at twenty-six,
Schubert at thirty-one, Mozart at thirtyfive, Purcell at thirty-seven, and Mendels
sohn at thirty-eight.
In the old Greek myth the life of
Meleager was indissolubly connected by
fate with the existence of a particular
log of wood. As long as this was kept
safe by Althaea, his mother, Meleager bore
a charmed life. It seems wonderful that
we do not watch with equal care over our
body, on the state of which happiness so
much depends.
The requisites of health are plain
enough: regular habits, daily exercise,
cleanliness, and moderation in all things
—in eating as well as in drinking—would
keep most people well.
I need not here dwell on the evils of
alcohol, but we perhaps scarcely realise
�THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
how much of the suffering and ill-humour
of life is due to over-eating. Dyspepsia,
for instance, from which so many suffer,
is in nine cases out of ten their own fault,
and arises from the combination of too
much food with too little exercise. To
lengthen your life, says an old proverb,
shorten your meals. Plain living and
high thinking will secure health for most
of us, though it matters, perhaps, com
paratively little what a healthy man eats,
so long as he does not eat too much#
“ Go to your banquet then, but use delight,
So as to rise still with an appetite.”1
Mr. Gladstone has told us that the
splendid health he enjoys is greatly due
to his having early learnt one simple
physiological maxim, and laid it down as
a rule for himself always to make twentyfive bites at every bit of meat.
No doubt, however, though the rule not
to eat or drink too much is simple enough
in theory, it is not quite so easy in applica
tion. There have been many Esaus who
have sold their birthright of health for a
mess of pottage.
Yet, though it may seem paradoxical,
it is certainly true, that in the long run
the moderate man will derive more enjoy
ment even from eating and drinking, than
the glutton or the drunkard will ever
obtain. They know not what it is to
enjoy “the exquisite taste of common
dry bread.” 2
Even then if we were to consider
merely the pleasure to be derived from
eating and drinking, the same rule would
hold good. A lunch of bread and cheese
after a good walk is more enjoyable than
a Lord Mayor’s feast. Without wishing,
like Apicius, for the neck of a stork, so
as to enjoy our dinner longer, we must
not be ungrateful for the enjoyment we
derive from eating and drinking, even
though they be amongst the least aesthetic
of our pleasures.
They are homely,
no doubt, but they come morning, noon,
and night, and are not the less real
Herrick,
2 Hamerton.
PART II
because they have reference to the body
rather than the soul.
We speak truly of a healthy appetite,
for it is a good test of our bodily condi
tion ; and indeed in some cases of our
mental state also. That
“ There cometh no good thing
Apart from toil to mortals,”
is especially true with reference to appe
tite ; to sit down to a dinner, however
simple, after a walk with a friend among
the mountains or along the shore, is a
pleasure not to be despised.
Cheerfulness and good humour, more
over, during meals are not only pleasant
in themselves, but conduce greatly to
health.
It has been said that hunger is the
best sauce, but most would prefer some
good stories at a feast even to a good
appetite; and who would not like to
have it said of him, as of Biron by
Rosaline—
“A merrier man,
Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour’s talk withal.”
In the three great “Banquets” of
Plato, Xenophon, and Plutarch, the food
is not even mentioned.
In the words of the old Lambeth
adage—
“ What is a merry man ?
Let him do all he can
To entertain his guests
With wine and pleasant jests,
Yet if his wife do frown
All merryment goes down.”
What salt is to food, wit and humour
are to conversation and literature. “You
do not,” an amusing writer in the Cornhill
has said, “expect humour in Thomas a
Kempis or the Hebrew Prophets”; but
we have Solomon’s authority that there is
a time to laugh, as well as to weep.
“ To read a good comedy is to keep
the best company in the world, when the
best things are said,* and the most amus
ing things happen.” 1
It is not without reason that every one
1 Hazlitt.
�HEALTH
CHAP. Ill
resents the imputation of being unable to
see a joke.
Laughter appears to be the special
prerogative of man. The higher animals
present us with proofs of evident, if not
highly-developed reasoning power, but it
is more than doubtful whether they are
capable of appreciating a joke.
Wit, moreover, has solved many diffi
culties and decided many controversies.
“ Ridicule shall frequently prevail,
And cut the knot when graver reasons fail.” 1
The most wasted of all days, says
Chamfort, is that on which one has not
laughed.
A careless song, says Walpole, “with
a little nonsense in it now and then, does
not misbecome a monarch ; ” but it is
difficult now to realise that James I.
should have regarded skill in punning in
his selection of bishops and privy coun
cillors.
It is no small merit of laughter that it
is quite spontaneous. “You cannot force
people to laugh ; you cannot give a
reason why they should laugh; they
must laugh of themselves or not at all.
. . . If we think we must not laugh,
this makes our temptation to laugh the
greater.”2 Humour is, moreover, con
tagious. A witty man may say, as Falstaff does of himself, “ I am not only
witty in myself, but the cause that wit is
in other men.”
One may paraphrase the well-known
remark about port wine and say that
some jokes may be better than others, but
anything which makes one laugh is good.
“After all,” says Dryden, “it is a good
thing to laugh at any rate ; and if a straw
can tickle a man, it is an instrument of
happiness,” and I may add, of health.
I have been told that in omitting any
mention of smoking I was overlooking
one of the real pleasures of life. Not
being a smoker myself I cannot perhaps
judge ; much must depend on the in
dividual temperament ; to some nervous
natures it certainly appears to be a great
1 Francis.
2 Hazlitt.
59
comfort; but I have my doubts whether
smoking, as a general rule, does add to
the pleasures of life. It must, at any
rate, detract somewhat from the sensitive
ness of taste and of smell.
Those who live in cities may almost
lay it down as a rule that no time spent
out of doors is ever wasted. Fresh air is
a cordial of incredible virtue ; old families
are in all senses county families, not town
families ; and those who prefer Homer
and Plato and Shakespeare to rivers and
forests and mountains must beware that
they are not tempted to neglect this great
requisite of our nature.
An Oriental traveller, having been
taken to watch a game of cricket, was
astonished at hearing that many of those
playing were rich men. He asked why
they did not pay some poor people to do
it for them.
Most Englishmen, however, love open
air, and it is probably true that most of
us enjoy a game at cricket or golf more
than looking at any of the old masters.
The love of sport is engraven in the
English character.
As was said of
William Rufus, “ he loves the tall deer as
if he had been their father.”
Wordsworth made it a rule to go out
every day, and used to say that as he
never consulted the weather, he never had
to consult the physicians.
It always seems to be raining harder
than it really is when you look at the
weather through the window. Even in
winter, though the landscape often seems
cheerless and bare enough when you look
at it from the fireside, still it is far better
to go out, even if you have to brave the
storm : when you are once out of doors
the touch of earth and the breath of the
fresh air will give you new life and
energy. Men, like trees, live in great
part on air.
After a gallop over the downs, a row
on the river, a sea voyage, a walk by the
seashore or in the woods,
“ The blue above, the music in the air,
The flowers upon the ground,” 1
1 Trench.
�6o
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
one feels as if one could say with Henry
IV., “ Je me porte comme le Pont Neuf.”
The Roman proverb that a child should
be taught nothing which he cannot learn
standing up, went no doubt into one
extreme, but surely we fall into another
when we act as if games were the only
thing which boys could learn upon their
feet.
The love of games among boys is
indeed a healthy instinct, and though
carried too far in some of our great
schools, there can be no question that
cricket and football, fives and hockey,
bathing and boating, are not only among
the greatest pleasures, but the best medi
cines, for boys.
We cannot always secure sleep. When
important decisions have to be taken, the
natural anxiety to come to a right decision
will often keep us awake.
Nothing,
however, is more conducive to healthy
sleep than plenty of open air. Then in
deed we can enjoy the fresh life of the
early morning : “ the breezy call of in
cense-breathing mom.”1
“ At morn the blackcock trims his jetty wing,
’Tis morning prompts the linnet’s blithest
lay,,
All Nature’s children feel the matin spring
Of life reviving, with reviving day.”
Epictetus described himself as “ a
spirit bearing about a corpse.” That
seems to me an ungrateful description.
Surely we ought to cherish the body, even
if it be but a frail and humble companion.
Do we not owe to the eye our enjoyment
of the beauties of this world and the
glories of the Heavens ; to the ear the
voices of friends and all the delights of
music ; are not the hands most faithful
and invaluable instruments, ever ready
in case of need, ever willing to do our
bidding ? and even the feet bear us with
out a murmur along the roughest and
stoniest paths of life.
With reasonable care, most of us may
hope to enjoy good health. And yet
what a marvellous and complex organisa
tion we have!
1 Gray.
PART II
We are indeed fearfully and wonder
fully made. It is
“ Strange that a harp of a thousand strings
Should keep in tune so long.”
When we consider the marvellous com
plexity of our bodily organisation, it
seems a miracle that we should live at
all; much more that the innumerable
organs and processes should continue day
after day and year after year with so
much regularity and so little friction
that we are sometimes scarcely conscious
of having a body at all.
And yet in that body we have more
than 200 bones, of complex and varied
forms, any irregularity in, or injury to,
which would of course grievously inter
fere with our movements.
We have over 500 muscles ; each
nourished by almost innumerable blood
vessels, and regulated by nerves. One
of our muscles, the heart, beats over
30,000,000 times in a year, and if it
once stops, all is over.
In the skin are wonderfully varied
and complex organs—for instance, over
2,000,000 perspiration glands, which
regulate the temperature, communicating
with the surface by ducts which have a
total length of some ten miles.
Think of the miles of arteries and veins,
of capillaries and nerves ; of the blood,
with the millions of millions of blood
corpuscles, each a microcosm in itself.
Think of the organs of sense,—the eye
with its cornea and lens, vitreous humour,
aqueous humour, and choroid, culminating
in the retina, no thicker than a sheet of
paper, and yet consisting of nine distinct
layers, the innermost composed of rods
and cones, supposed to be the immediate
recipients of the undulations of light,
and so numerous that in each eye the
cones are estimated at over 3,000,000,
the rods at over 30,000,000.
Above all, and most wonderful of all,
the brain itself. Meinert has calculated
that the gray matter alone contains no
less than 600,000,000 cells ; each cell
consists of several thousand visible mole-
�LOVE
CHAP. IV
cules, and each molecule again of many
millions of atoms.
And yet, with reasonable care, we can
most of us keep this wonderful organisa
tion in health, so that it will work with
out causing us pain, or even discomfort,
for many years ; and we may hope that
even when old age comes
“ Time may lay his hand
Upon your heart gently, not smiting it,
But as a harper lays his open palm
Upon his harp, to deaden its vibrations.”
61
To this a look, to that a word, dispenses,
And, whether stern or smiling, loves them
still;—
So Providence for us, high, infinite,
Makes our necessities its watchful task,
Hearkens to all our prayers, helps all our
wants,
And e’en if it denies what seems our right,
Either denies because ’twould have us ask,
Or seems but to deny, and in denying
grants.”1
Sir Walter Scott well says—
“And if there be a human tear
From passion’s dross 2 refined and clear,
’Tis that which pious fathers shed
Upon a duteous daughter’s head.”
Epaminondas is said to have given as
his main reason for rejoicing at the victory
of Leuctra, that it would give so much
LOVE
pleasure to his father and mother.
“ £)tre avec ceux qu’on aime, cela suffit.”
Nor must the love of animals be
La Bruy1:re.
altogether omitted. It is impossible not
Love is the light and sunshine of life. to sympathise with the Savage when he
We cannot fully enjoy ourselves, or any believes in their immortality, and thinks
thing else, unless some one we love enjoys that after death
it with us. Even if we are alone, w’e
“Admitted to that equal sky,
His faithful dog shall bear him company.” 3
store up our enjoyment in hope of shar
ing it hereafter with those wre love.
In the Mahabharata, the great Indian
Love lasts through life, and adapts Epic, when the family of Pandavas, the
itself to every age and circumstance ; in heroes, at length reach the gates of
childhood for father and mother, in man heaven, they are welcomed themselves,
hood for wife, in age for children, and but are told that their dog cannot come
throughout for brothers and sisters, re in. Having pleaded in vain, they turn
lations and friends. The strength of to depart, as they say they can never
friendship is indeed proverbial, and in leave their faithful companion. Then at
some cases, as in that of David and the last moment the Angel at the door
Jonathan, is described as surpassing the relents, and their Dog is allowed to enter
love of women. But I need not now with them.
refer to it, having spoken already of what
We may hope the time will come when
we owe to friends.
we shall learn
The goodness of Providefice to man has
to blend
or our pride,
been often compared to that of fathers “Never sorrow of our pleasure thing that feels.” 4
With
the meanest
and mothers for their children.
But at the present moment I am speak
“ Just as a mother, with sweet, pious face,
ing rather of the love which leads to mar
Yearns towards her little children from her
riage. Such love is the music of life, nay,
seat,
Gives one a kiss, another an embrace,
“there is music in the beauty, and the
Takes this upon her knees, that on her silent note of love, far sweeter than the
feet;
sound of any instrument.” 5
And while from actions, looks, complaints,
CHAPTER IV
pretences,
She learns their feelings and their various
will,
1 Filicaja. Translated by Leigh Hunt.
2 Not from passion itself.
3 Pope.
4 Wor ds worth.
5 Browne.
�62
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
The Symposium of Plato contains an in
teresting and amusing disquisition on Love.
“ Love,” Ph sod r us is made to say, “ will
make men dare to die for their beloved—
love alone ; and women as well as men.
Of this, Alcestis, the daughter of Pelias,
is a monument to all Hellas ; for she was
willing to lay down her life on behalf of
her husband, when no one else would,
although he had a father and mother ;
but the tenderness of her love so far ex
ceeded theirs, that she made them seem
to be strangers in blood to their own son,
and in name only related to him ; and so
noble did this action of hers appear to the
gods, as well as to men, that among the
many who have done virtuously she is
one of the very few to whom they have
granted the privilege of returning to earth,
in admiration of her virtue ; such exceed
ing honour is paid by them to the devo
tion and virtue of love.”
Agathon is even more eloquent—
Love “fills men with affection, and
takes away their disaffection, making them
meet together at such banquets as these.
In sacrifices, feasts, dances, he is our lord
—supplying kindness and banishing un
kindness, giving friendship and forgiving
enmity, the joy of the good, the wonder
of the wise, the amazement of the gods,
desired by those who have no part in him,
and precious to those who have the better
part in him ; parent of delicacy, luxury,
desire, fondness, softness, grace, regardful
of the good, regardless of the evil. In
every word, work, wish, fear—pilot, com
rade, helper, saviour ; glory of gods and
men, leader best and brightest: in whose
footsteps let every man follow, sweetly
singing in his honour that sweet strain
with which love charms the souls of gods
and men.”
No doubt, even so there are two
Loves, “one, the daughter of Uranus,
who has no mother, and is the elder and
wiser goddess ; and the other, the daughter
of Zeus and Dione, who is popular and
common,”—but let us not examine too
closely. Charity tells us even of Guine
vere, “ that while she lived, she was a
PART II
good lover and therefore she had a good
end.” 1
The origin of love has exercised philo
sophers almost as much as the origin of
evil. The Symposium continues with a
speech which Plato attributes in joke to
Aristophanes, and of which Jowett ob
serves that nothing in Aristophanes is
more truly Aristophanic.
The original human nature, he says,
was not like the present. The Primeval
Man “ was round,2 his back and sides form
ing a circle ; and he had four hands and
four feet, one head with two faces, look
ing opposite ways, set on a round neck
and precisely alike.
He could walk
upright as men now do, backwards or
forwards as he pleased, and he could
also roll over and over at a great rate,
whirling round on his four hands and
four feet, eight in all, like tumblers going
over and over with their legs in the
air ; this was when he wanted to run fast.
Terrible was their might and strength, and
the thoughts of their hearts were great, and
they made an attack upon the gods ; of
them is told the tale of Otys and Epliialtes,
who, as Homer says, dared to scale heaven,
and would have laid hands upon the gods.
Doubt reigned in the celestial councils.
Should they kill them and annihilate the
race with thunderbolts, as they had done
the giants, then there would be an end
of the sacrifices and worship which men
offered to them ; but, on the other hand,
the gods could not suffer their insolence
to be unrestrained. At last, after a good
deal of reflection, Zeus discovered a way.
He said : ‘ Methinks I have a plan which
will humble their pride and mend their
manners ; they shall continue to exist, but
I will cut them in two, which will have a
double advantage, for it will halve their
strength and we shall have twice as many
sacrifices. They shall walk upright on
two legs, and if they continue insolent and
will not be quiet, I will split them again
and they shall hop on a single leg.’ He
spoke and cut men in two, ‘ as you might
1 Malory, Morte eVArthur.
2 I avail myself of Dr. Jowett’s translation.
�LOVE
CHAP. IV
split an egg with a hair.’ . . . After the
division the two parts of man, each de
siring his other half, came together. . . .
So ancient is the desire for one another
which is implanted in us, reuniting our
original nature, making one of two, and
healing the state of man. Each of us when
separated is but the indenture of a man,
having one side only, like a flat-fish,
and he is always looking for his other
half.
“ And when one of them finds his other
half, the pair are lost in amazement of
love and friendship and intimacy, and
one will not be out of the other’s sight,
as I may say, even for a minute : they
will pass their whole lives together ; yet
they could not explain what they desire
of one another. For the intense yearn
ing which each of them has towards the
other does not appear to be the desire of
lovers’ intercourse, but of something else,
which the soul of either evidently desires
and cannot tell, and of which she has
only a dark and doubtful presentiment.”
However this may be, there is such in
stinctive insight in the human heart
that we often form our opinion almost
instantaneously, and such impressions
seldom change, I might even say, they
are seldom wrong. Love at first sight
sounds like an imprudence, and yet is
almost a revelation. It seems as if we
were but renewing the relations of a
previous existence.
‘ But to see her were to love her,
Love but her, and love for ever."1
Yet though experience seldom falsifies
such a feeling, happily the reverse does
not hold good. Deep affection is often of
slow growth. Many a warm love has
been won by faithful devotion.
Montaigne indeed declares that “ Few
have married for love without repenting
it.” Dr. Johnson also maintained that
marriages would generally be happier if
they were arranged by the Lord Chan
cellor ; but I do not think either Mon
taigne or Johnson were good judges. As
1 Burns.
63
Lancelot said to the unfortunate Maid of
Astolat, “ I love not to be forced to love,
for love must arise of the heart and not
by constraint.” 1
Love defies distance and the elements ;
Sestos and Abydos are divided by the
sea, “ but Love joined them by an arrow
from his bow.” 2
Love can be happy anywhere. Byron
wished
“ 0 that the desert were my dwelling-place,
With one fair Spirit for my minister,
That I might all forget the human race,
And, hating no one, love but only her.”
And many will doubtless have felt
“ 0 Love ! what hours were thine and mine
In lands of palm and southern pine,
In lands of palm, of orange-blossom,
Of olive, aloe, and maize and vine.”
What is true of space holds good equally
of time.
“ In peace, Love tunes the shepherd’s reed ;
In war, he mounts the warrior’s steed ;
In halls, in gay attire is seen ;
In hamlets, dances on the green.
Love rules the court, the camp, the grove,
And men below, and saints above ;
For love is heaven, and heaven is love.”3
Even when, as among some Eastern
races, Religion and Philosophy have com
bined to depress Love, truth reasserts
itself in popular sayings, as for instance
in the Turkish proverb, “ All women are
perfection, especially she who loves you.”
A French lady having once quoted to
Abd-el-Kader the Polish proverb, “ A
woman draws more with a hair of her
head than a yoke of oxen well harnessed ; ”
he answered with a smile, “ The hair is
unnecessary, woman is powerful as fate.”
But we like to think of Love rather as
the Angel of Happiness than as a ruling
force : of the joy of home when “hearts
are of each other sure.”
“ It is the secret sympathy,
The silver link, the silken tie,
Which heart to heart, and mind to mind
In body and in soul can bind.” 4
1 Malory, Morte. d’Arthur.
2 Symonds.
3 Scott.
4 Ibid.
�THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
64
What Bacon says of a friend is even
truer of a wife ; there is “ no man that
imparteth his joys to his friend, but he
joyeth the more ; and no man that
imparteth his griefs to his friend, but he
grieveth the less.”
Let some one we love come near us and
“ At once it seems that something new or
strange
Has passed upon the flowers, the trees, the
ground ;
Some slight but unintelligible change
On everything around.” 1
PART II
Glistering with dew ; fragrant the fertile earth
After soft showers ; and sweet the coming-on
Of grateful evening mild ; then silent night,
With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon,
And these the gems of heaven, her starry
train.
But neither breath of morn when she ascends
With charm of earliest birds ; nor rising sun
On this delightful land; nor herb, fruit,
flower,
Glistering with dew; nor fragrance after
showers ;
Nor grateful evening mild ; nor silent night,
With this her solemn bird ; nor walk by moon,
Or glittering starlight, without thee is sweet.”
Moreover, no one need despair of an
ideal marriage. We fortunately differ so
much in our tastes ; love does so much to
create love, that even the humblest may
hope for the happiest marriage if only he
deserves it; and Shakespeare speaks, as
11 Her feet are tender, for she sets her steps
Not on the ground, but on the heads of men.” he does so often, for thousands when he
says
Love and Reason divide the life of man.
“ She is mine own,
We must give to each its due. If it is
And I as rich in having such a jewel
impossible to attain to virtue by the aid
As twenty seas, if all their sands were pearls,
The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.”
of Love without Reason, neither can we
do so by means of Reason alone without
True love indeed will not be unreason
Love.
able or exacting.
Love, said Melanippides, “ sowing in
“ Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind
the heart of man the sweet harvest of
That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind
desire, mixes the sweetest and most
To war and arms I fly.
beautiful things together.”
How true is the saying of La Bruyere,
“ Etre avec ceux qu’on aime, cela suffit.”
We might, I think, apply to Love what
Homer says of Fate :
“ Love is kind, and suffers long,
Love is meek, and thinks no wrong,
Love than death itself more strong—
Therefore give us Love.”
True ! a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field,
And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.
Yet this inconstancy is such
As you too shall adore,
I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Loved I not honour more.”1
No one indeed could complain now,
with Phaedrus in Plato’s Symposium,
And yet
that Love has had no worshippers among
the Poets. On the contrary, Love has 1 ‘ Alas ! how light a cause may move
Dissension between hearts that love !
brought them many of their sweetest in
Hearts that the world in vain had tried,
spirations : none perhaps nobler or more
but more
beautiful than Milton’s description of And sorrowthe storm, closely tied, were rough,
That stood
when waves
Paradise :
Yet in a sunny hour fall off,
Like ships that have gone down at sea,
‘ With thee conversing, I forget all time,
When heaven was all tranquillity.” 2
All seasons, and their change ; all please alike.
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet
For love is brittle. Do not risk even
With charm of earliest birds ; pleasant the
any little jar ; it may be
sun,
When first on this delightful land he spreads
“The little rift within the lute,
His orient beams, on herb, treo, fruit, and
That by and by will make the music mute,
flower,
And ever widening slowly silence all.”3
1 Trench.
1 Lovelace.
2 Moore.
3 Tennyson.
�ART
CHAP. V
Love is delicate; “ Love is hurt with
jar and fret,” and you might as well ex
pect a violin to remain in tune if roughly
used, as Love to survive if chilled or
driven into itself. But what a pleasure
to keep it alive by
“ Little, nameless, unremembered acts
Of kindness and of love.” 1
“ She whom you loved and chose,” says
Bondi,
“ Is now your bride, •
The gift of heaven, and to your trust consigned;
Honour her still, though not with passion blind;
And in her virtue, though you watch, confide.
Be to her youth a comfort, guardian, guide,
In whose experience she may safety find ;
And whether sweet or bitter be assigned,
The joy with her, as well as pain, divide.
Yield not too much if reason disapprove ;
Nor too much force ; the partner of your life
Should neither victim be, nor tyrant prove.
Thus shall that rein, which often mars the bliss
Of wedlock, scarce be felt; and thus your wife
Ne’er in the husband shall the lover miss.” 2
65
Earthly these passions of the Earth,
They perish where they have their birth,
But Love is indestructible ;
Its holy flame for ever burneth,
From Heaven it came, to Heaven retumeth ;
Too oft on Earth a troubled guest,
At times deceived, at times opprest,
It here is tried and purified,
Then hath in Heaven its perfect rest:
It soweth here with toil and care,
But the harvest time of Love is there.
“ The Mother when she meets on high
The Babe she lost in infancy,
Hath she not then, for pains and fears,
The day of woe, the watchful night
For all her sorrow, all her tears,
An over-payment of delight ? ”1
As life wears on the love of husband or
wife, of friends and of children, becomes
the great solace and delight of age. The
one recalls the past, the other gives in
terest to the future ; and in our children
we live our lives again.
Every one is ennobled by true love—
“ ’Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.” 3
Perhaps no one ever praised a woman
more gracefully in a sentence than Steele
when he said of Lady Elizabeth Hastings
that “ to know her was a liberal educa
tion ” ; but every woman may feel as she
improves herself that she is not only
laying in a store of happiness for herself,
but also raising and blessing those whom
she would most wish to- see happy and
good.
Love, true love, grows and deepens
with time. Husband and wife, who are
married indeed, live
CHAPTER V
ART
“ High art consists neither in altering, nor in
improving nature ; but in seeking throughout
nature for ‘whatsoever things are lovely, what
soever things are pure ’ ; in loving these, in dis
playing to the utmost of the painter’s power
such loveliness as is in them, and directing the
thoughts of others to them by winning art, or
gentle emphasis. Art (caeteris paribus) is great
in exact proportion to the love of beauty shown
by the painter, provided that love of beauty
forfeit no atom of truth.”—Ruskin.
The most ancient works of Art which we
possess, are representations of animals,
rude indeed, but often strikingly charac
teristic, engraved on, or carved in, stag’s“ By each other, till to love and live
Be one.” 4
horn or bone ; and found in English,
Nor does it end with life. A mother’s French, and German caves, with stone
and other rude implements, and the re
love knows no bounds.
mains of mammalia, belonging apparently
“ They err who tell us Love can die,
to the close of the glacial epoch: not
With life all other passions fly,
only of the deer, bear, and other animals
All others are but vanity.
In Heaven Ambition cannot dwell,
now inhabiting temperate Europe, but
Nor Avarice in the vaults of Hell ;
of some, such as the reindeer, the musk
4 Wordsworth.
2 Bondi. Tr. by Glassford. sheep, the mammoth, and the woolly-
3 Tennyson.
K
4 Swinburne.
1 Southey.
�66
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
haired rhinoceros, which have either re
treated north or become altogether ex
tinct. We may even, I think, venture to
hope that other designs may hereafter be
found, which will give us additional in
formation as to the manners and customs
of our ancestors in those remote ages.
Next to these in point of antiquity
come the sculptures and paintings on
Egyptian and Assyrian tombs, temples,
and palaces.
These ancient scenes, considered as
works of art, have no doubt many faults,
and yet how graphically they tell their
story ! As a matter of fact a king is not,
as a rule, bigger than his soldiers, but in
these battle-scenes he is always so repre
sented. We must, however, remember
that in ancient warfare the greater part
of the fighting was done by the chiefs.
In this respect the Homeric poems re
semble the Assyrian and Egyptian repre
sentations. At any rate, we see at a
glance which is the king, which are
officers, which side is victorious, the
struggles and sufferings of the wounded,
the flight of the enemy, the city of refuge
—so that he who runs may read ; while
in modern battle-pictures the story is
much less clear, and, indeed, the untrained
eye sees for some time little but scarlet
and smoke.
These works assuredly possess a grandeur
and dignity of their own, even though
they have not the beauty of later art.
In Greece Art reached a perfection
which has never been excelled, and it
was more appreciated than perhaps it has
ever been since.
At the time when Demetrius attacked
the city of Rhodes, Protogenes was paint
ing a picture of Ialysus. “ This,” says
Pliny, “hindered King Demetrius from
taking Rhodes, out of fear lest he should
burn the picture; and not being able to
fire the town on any other side, he was
pleased rather to spare the painting than
to take the victory, which was already in
his hands. Protogenes, at that time, had
his painting-room in a garden out of the
town, and very near the camp of the
PART II
enemies, where he was daily finishing
those pieces which he had already begun,
the noise of soldiers not being capable of
interrupting his studies. But Demetrius
causing him to be brought into his pre
sence, and asking him what made him so
bold as to work in the midst of enemies,
he answered the king, ‘That he under
stood the war which he made was against
the Rhodians, and not against the Arts.’ ”
With the decay of Greece, Art sank too,
until it was revived in the thirteenth
century by Cimabue, since whose time its
progress has been triumphal.
Art is unquestionably one of the purest
and highest elements in human happiness.
It trains the mind through the eye, and
the eye through the mind. As the sun
colors flowers, so does art color life.
“In true Art,” says Ruskin, “the
hand, the head, and the heart of man go
together. But Art is no recreation : it
cannot be learned at spare moments, nor
pursued when we have nothing better to
do.”
It is not only in the East that great
works, really due to study and labour,
have been attributed to magic.
Study and labour cannot make every
man an artist, but no one can succeed in
art without them. In Art two and two
do not make four, and no number of
little things will make a great one.
It has been said, and on high authority,
that the end of all art is to please. But
this is a very imperfect definition. It
might as well be said that a library is
only intended for pleasure and ornament.
Art has the advantage of nature, in so
far as it introduces a human element,
which is in some respects superior even
to nature. “If,” says Plato, “you take
a man as he is made by nature and com
pare him with another who is the effect
of art, the work of nature will always
appear the less beautiful, because art is
more accurate than nature.”
Bacon also, in The Advancement of
Learning, speaks of “ the world being in
ferior to the soul, by reason whereof there
is agreeable to the spirit of man a more
�CHAP. V
ART
ample greatness, a more exact goodness,
and a more absolute variety than can be
found in the nature of things.”
The poets tell us that, Prometheus
having made a beautiful statue of Minerva,
the goddess was so delighted that she
offered to bring down anything from
Heaven which could add. to its perfection.
Prometheus on this prudently asked her
to take him there, so that he might choose
for himself. This Minerva did, and Pro
metheus, finding that in heaven all things
were animated by fire, brought back a
spark, with which he gave life to his
work.
In fact, Imitation is the means and not
the end of Art. The story of Zeuxis and
Parrhasius is a pretty tale ; but to deceive
birds, or even man himself, is but a
trifling matter compared with the higher
functions of Art. To imitate the Iliad,
says Dr. Young, is not imitating Homer ;
though, as Sir J. Reynolds adds, the more
the artist studies nature “the nearer he
approaches to the true and perfect idea of
art.”
Art, indeed, must create as well as
copy. As Victor Cousin well says, “ The
ideal without the real lacks life ; but the
real without the ideal lacks pure beauty.
Both need to unite; to join hands and
enter into alliance. In this way the best
work may be achieved. Thus beauty is
an absolute idea, and not a mere copy of
imperfect Nature.”
The grouping of the picture is of course
of the utmost importance. Sir Joshua
Reynolds gives two remarkable cases to
show how much any given figure in a
picture is affected by its surroundings.
Tintoret in one of his pictures has taken
the Samson of Michael Angelo, put an
eagle under him, placed thunder and
lightning in his right hand instead of the
jawbone of an ass, and thus turned him
into a Jupiter. The second instance is
even more striking. Titian has copied
the figure in the vault of the Sistine
Chapel which represents the Deity divid
ing light from darkness, and has intro
duced it into his picture of the battle of
67
Cadore, to represent a general falling from
his horse.
We must remember that so far as the
eye is concerned, the object of the artist
is to train, not to deceive, and that his
higher function has reference rather to
the mind than to the eye.
Those who love beauty will see beauty
everywhere. No doubt
“ To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
To throw a perfume on the violet,
To smooth the ice, or add another hue
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light
To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to
garnish,
Is wasteful aud ridiculous excess.”1
But all is not gold that glitters, flowers
are not all arrayed like the lily, and
there is room for selection as well as
representation.
“The true, the good, and the beautiful,”
says Cousin, “ are but forms of the in
finite : what then do we really love in
truth, beauty, and virtue1? We love the
infinite himself. The love of the infinite
substance is hidden under the love of its
forms. It is so truly the infinite which
charms in the true, the good, and the
beautiful, that its manifestations alone do
not suffice. The artist is dissatisfied at
the sight even of his greatest works ; he
aspires still higher.”
It is indeed sometimes objected that
Landscape painting is not true to nature;
but we must ask, What is truth ? Is the
object to produce the same impression on
the mind as that created by the scene
itself? If so, let any one try to draw
from memory a group of mountains, and
he will probably find that in the impres
sion produced on his mind the mountains
are loftier and steeper, the valleys deeper
and narrower, than in the actual reality.
A drawing, then, which was literally
exact would not be true, in the sense of
conveying the same impression as Nature
herself.
In fact, Art, says Goethe, is called Art
simply because it is not Nature.
It is not sufficient for the artist to
choose beautiful scenery, and delineate
1 Shakespeare.
�68
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
tART ii
it with accuracy. He must not be a
mere copyist.
Something higher and
more subtle is required. He must create,
or at any rate interpret, as well as copy.
Turner was never satisfied merely to
copy even the most glorious scenery. He
moved, and even suppressed, mountains.
A certain nobleman, we are told, was
very anxious to see the model from whom
Guido painted his lovely female faces.
Guido placed his color-grinder, a big
coarse man, in an attitude, and then drew
a beautiful Magdalen. “ My dear Count,”
he said, “ the beautiful and pure idea
must be in the mind, and then it is no
matter what the model is.”
When painting St. Michael for the
Church of the Capuchins at Rome, Guido
wished that he “ had the wings of an
angel, to have ascended unto Paradise, and
there to have beheld the forms of those
beautiful spirits, from which I might have
copied my Archangel. But not being
able to mount so high, it was in vain for
me to seek for his resemblance here below;
so that I was forced to look into mine
own mind, and into that idea of beauty
which I have formed in my own imagina
tion.” 1
Science attempts, as far as the limited
powers of Man permit, to reproduce the
actual facts in a manner which, however
bald, is true in itself, irrespective of time
and scene. To do this she must submit
to many limitations ; not altogether unvexatious, and not without serious draw
backs. Art, on the contrary, endeavours
to convey the impression of the original
under some especial aspect.
In some respects, Art gives a clearer
and more vivid idea of an unknown
country than any description can convey.
In literature rock may be rock, but in
painting it must be granite, slate, or some
other special kind, and not merely rock
in general.
It is remarkable that while artists have
long recognised the necessity of studying
anatomy, and there has been from the
commencement a professor of anatomy in
the Royal Academy, it is only of late
years that any knowledge of botany or
geology has been considered desirable,
and even now their importance is by no
means generally recognised.
Much has been written as to the rela
tive merits of painting, sculpture, and
architecture. This, if it be not a some
what unprofitable inquiry, would at any
rate be out of place here.
Architecture not only gives intense
pleasure, but even the impression of
something ethereal and superhuman.
Madame de Stael described it as
“ frozen music ”; and a cathedral is a
glorious specimen of “ thought in stone,”
whose very windows are transparent walls
of gorgeous hues.
Caracci said that poets paint in their
words and artists speak in their works.
The latter have indeed one great advan
tage, for a glance at a statue or a painting,
will convey a more vivid idea than a long,
and minute description.
Another advantage possessed by Art
is that it is understood by all civilised
nations, whilst each has a separate language.
Again, from a material point of view
Art is most important.
In a recent
address Sir F. Leighton has observed that
the study of Art “ is every day becoming
more important in relation to certain
sides of the waning material prosperity of
the country. For the industrial compe
tition between this and other countries
—a competition, keen and eager, which
means to certain industries almost a race
for life—runs, in many cases, no longer
exclusively or mainly on the lines of
excellence of material and solidity of
workmanship, but greatly nowadays on
the lines of artistic charm and beauty
of design.”
The highest service, however, that Art
can accomplish for man is to become “ at
once the voice of his nobler aspirations,
and the steady disciplinarian of his
emotions ; and it is with this mission,
rather than with any eesthetic perfection,
that we are at present concerned.” 1
1 Dryden.
1 Haweis.
�CHAI’. V
ART
69
Science and Art are sisters, or rather story, that the picture was sold for a pot
perhaps they are like brother and sister. of porter and a cheese, which, however,
The mission of Art is in some respects does not give a higher idea of the ap
like that of woman. It is not Hers preciation of the art of landscape at that
so much to do the hard toil and moil date.
Until very recently the general feeling
of the world, as to surround it with a
halo of beauty, to convert work into with reference to mountain scenery has
been that expressed by Tacitus. “ Who
pleasure.
In Science we naturally expect pro would leave Asia or Africa or Italy to go
gress, but in Art the case is not so clear : to Germany, a shapeless and unformed
and yet Sir Joshua Reynolds did not country, a harsh sky, and melancholy
hesitate to express his conviction that in aspect, unless indeed it was his native
the future “ so much will painting im land?”
It is amusing to read the opinion of
prove, that the best we can now achieve
will appear like the work of children,” Dr. Beattie, in a special treatise on Truth.,
and we may hope that our power of Poetry, and Music, written at the close
enjoying it may increase in an equal of last century, that “ The Highlands of
ratio. Wordsworth says that poets have Scotland are in general a melancholy
to create the taste for their own works, country. ■ Long tracts of mountainous
and the same is, in some degree at any country, covered with dark heath, and
often obscured by misty weather ; narrow
rate, true of artists.
In one respect especially modern painters valleys thinly inhabited, and bounded by
appear to have made a marked advance, precipices resounding with the fall of
and one great blessing which in fact we torrents ; a soil so rugged, and a climate
owe to them is a more vivid enjoyment so dreary, as in many parts to admit
neither the amenities of pasturage, nor
of scenery.
I have of course no pretensions to speak the labours of agriculture ; the mournful
with authority, but even in the case of the dashing of waves along the firths and
greatest masters before Turner, the land lakes ; the portentous noises which every
scapes seem to me singularly inferior to the change of the wind is apt to raise in a
figures. Sir Joshua Reynolds tells us that ' lonely region, full of echoes, and rocks,
Gainsborough framed a kind of model of a and caverns ; the grotesque and ghastly
landscape on his table, composed of broken appearance of such a landscape by the
stones, dried herbs, and pieces of looking- light of the moon: objects like these
glass, which he “ magnified and improved diffuse a gloom over the fancy,” etc.1
Even Goldsmith regarded the scenery
into rocks, trees, and water” ; and Sir
Joshua solemnly discusses the wisdom of of the Highlands as dismal and hideous.
such a proceeding. “ How far it may be Johnson, we know, laid it down as an
useful in giving hints,” he gravely says, axiom that “ the noblest prospect which
“ the professors of landscape can best a Scotchman ever sees is the high road
determine,” but he does not recommend that leads him to England ”—a saying
it, and is disposed to think, on the whole, which throws much doubt on his dis
the practice may be more likely to do tinction that the Giant’s Causeway was
“ worth seeing but not worth going to
harm than good !
In the picture of Ceyx and Alcyone, by see.” 2
Madame de Stael declared, that though
Wilson, of whom Cunningham said that,
with Gainsborough, he laid the foundation she would go 500 leagues to meet a clever
of our School of Landscape, the castle is man, she would not care to open her
said to have been painted from a pot of window to see the Bay of Naples.
porter, and the rock from a Stilton cheese.
Nor was the ancient absence of apThere is indeed another version of the
1 Beattie. 1776.
2 Boswell.
�70
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
preciation confined to scenery. Burke,
speaking of Stonehenge, even says, “ Stone
henge, neither for disposition nor ornament,
has in it anything admirable.”
Ugly scenery may well in some cases
have an injurious effect on the human
system.
It has been ingeniously sug
gested that what really drove Don Quixote
out of his mind was not the study of his
books of chivalry, so much as the mono
tonous scenery of La Mancha.
The love of landscape is not indeed
due to Art alone. It has been the happy
combination of art and science which has
trained us to perceive the beauty which
surrounds us.
Art helps us-to see, and “hundreds of
people can talk for one who can think ;
but thousands can think for one who can
see. To see clearly is poetry, prophecy,
and religion all in one. . . . Remember
ing always that there are two characters
in which all greatness of Art consists—
first, the earnest and intense seizing of
natural facts ; then the ordering those
facts by strength of human intellect, so
as to make them, for all who look upon
them, to the utmost serviceable, memor
able, and beautiful. And thus great Art
is nothing else than the type of strong
and noble life ; for as the ignoble person,
in his dealings w’ith all that occurs in the
world about him, first sees nothing clearly,
looks nothing fairly in the face, and then
allows himself to be swept away by the
trampling torrent and unescapable force
of the things that he would not foresee
and could not understand : so the noble
person, looking the facts of the world full
in the face, and fathoming them with deep
faculty, then deals with them in unalarmed
intelligence and unhurried strength, and
becomes, with his human intellect and
will, no unconscious nor insignificant
agent in consummating their good and
restraining their evil.” 1
May we not also hope that in this
respect also still further progress may be
made, that beauties may be revealed, and
pleasures may be in store for those who
1 Ruskin.
PART JI
come after us, which we cannot appreciate,
or at least can but faintly feel ?
Even now there is scarcely a cottage
without something more or less success
fully claiming to rank as Art,—a picture,
a photograph, or a statuette; and we may
fairly hope that much as Art even now
contributes to the happiness of life, it
will do so even more effectively in the
future.
CHAPTER VI
POETRY
“ And here the singer for his Art
Not all in vain may plead
‘ The song that nerves a nation’s heart
Is in itself a deed.’ ”
Tennyson.
After the disastrous defeat of the Athen
ians before Syracuse, Plutarch tells us
that the Sicilians spared those who could
repeat any of the poetry of Euripides.
“ Some there were,” he says, “ who owed
their preservation to Euripides. Of all
the Grecians, his was the muse with whom
the Sicilians were most in love. From
the strangers who landed in their island
they gleaned every small specimen or
portion of his works, and communicated
it with pleasure to each other. It is said
that upon this occasion a number of
Athenians on their return home went to
Euripides, and thanked him in the most
grateful manner for their obligations to
his pen ; some having been enfranchised
for teaching their masters what they re
membered of his poems, and others having
procured refreshments, when they were
wandering about after the battle, by sing
ing a few of his verses.”
Nowadays we are not likely to owe our
lives to Poetry in this sense, yet in another
we many of us owe to it a similar debt.
How often, when worn with overwork,
sorrow, or anxiety, have we taken down
Homer or Horace, Shakespeare or Mil ton,
and felt the clouds gradually roll
away, the jar of nerves subside, the con-
�POETRY
CHAP. VI
sciousness of power replace physical
exhaustion, and the darkness of despond
ency brighten once more into the light of
life.
“And yet Plato/’ says Jowett, “expels
the poets from his Republic because they
are allied to sense; because they stimulate
the emotions ; because they are thrice re
moved from the ideal truth.”
In that respect, as in some others, few
would accept Plato’s Republic as being
an ideal Commonwealth, and most would
agree with Sir Philip Sidney that “ if you
cannot bear the planet-like music of
poetry ... I must send you in the be
half of all poets, that while you live, you
live in love, and never get favour for
lacking skill of a sonnet; and when you
die, your memory die from the earth, for
want of an epitaph.”
Poetry has often been compared with
painting and sculpture. Simonides long
ago said that Poetry is a speaking picture,
and painting is mute Poetry.
“ Poetry,” says Cousin, “ is the first of
the Arts because it best represents the
infinite.”
And again, “Though the arts are in
some respects isolated, yet there is one
which seems to profit by the resources of
all, and that is Poetry. With words,
Poetry can paint and sculpture ; she can
build edifices like an architect; she unites,
to some extent, melody and music. She
is, so to say, the centre in which all arts
unite.”
A true poem is a gallery of pictures.
It must, Tthink, be admitted that paint
ing and sculpture can give us a clearer and
more vivid idea of an object we have
never seen than any description can
convey. But when we have once seen it,
then on the contrary there are many
points which the poet brings before us,
and which perhaps neither in the repre
sentation, nor even in nature, should we
perceive for ourselves. Objects can be
most vividly brought before us by the
artist, actions by the poet; space is the
domain of Art, time of Poetry.1
1 See Lessing’s Tmocooh.
71
Take, for instance, as a typical instance,
female beauty. How laboured and how
cold any description appears, The great
est poets recognise this ; as, for instance,
when Scott wishes us to realise the Lady
of the Lake he does not attempt any de
scription, but just mentions her attitude
and then adds—
“ And ne’er did Grecian chisel trace
A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace,
Of finer form or lovelier face ! ”
A great poet must be inspired ; he
must possess an exquisite sense of beauty,
with feelings deeper than those of most men,
and yet well under control. “The Milton
of poetry is the man, in his own magnifi
cent phrase, of devout prayer to that
Eternal Spirit that can enrich with all
utterance and knowledge, and sends out
his seraphim with the hallowed fire of his
altar, to touch and purify the lips of whom
he pleases.” 1 And if from one point of
view Poetry brings home to us the im
measurable inequalities of different minds,
on the other hand it teaches us that genius
is no affair of rank or wealth.
“ I think of Chatterton, the marvellous boy,
The sleepless soul, that perish’d in his pride ;
Of Burns, that walk’d in glory and in joy
Behind his plough upon the mountain-side.” 2
A man may be a poet and yet write no
verse, but not if he writes bad or poor
ones.
“ Mediocribus esse poetis
Non homines, non Di, non concessere column a?.”3
Poetry will not live unless it be alive,
“ that which comes from the head goes to
the heart ”;4 and Milton truly said that
“ he who would not be frustrate of his
hope to write well hereafter in laudable
things, ought himself to be a true poem.”
For “ he who, having no touch of the
Muses’ madness in his soul, comes to the
door and thinks he will get into the temple
by the help of Art—he, I say, and his
Poetry are not admitted.” 5
Secondrate poets, like secondrate writers
1 Arnold.
3 Horace.
2 Wordsworth.
4 Coleridge.
5 Plato.
�THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
72
PART II
generally, fade gradually into dreamland;
The works of our greatest Poets are all
but the work of the true poet is immortal. episodes in that one great poem which
“ For have not the verses of Homer the genius of man has created since the
continued 2500 years or more without commencement of human history.
the loss of a syllable or a letter, during
A distinguished mathematician is said
which time infinite palaces, temples, once to have inquired what was proved
castles, cities, have been decayed and by Milton in his Paradise Lost; and there
demolished ? It is not possible to have are no doubt still some who ask them
the true pictures or statues of Cyrus, selves, even if they shrink from putting
Alexander, or Ciesar ; no, nor of the kings the question to others, whether Poetry
or great personages of much later years ; is of any use, just as if to give pleasure
for the originals cannot last, and the were not useful in itself. No true Utili
copies cannot but lose of the life and tarian, however, would feel this doubt,
truth. But the images of men’s wits and since the greatest happiness of the greatest
knowledge remain in books, exempted number is the rule of his philosophy.
from the wrong of time and capable of
We must not however “ estimate the
perpetual renovation. Neither are they works of genius merely with reference
fitly to be called images, because they to the pleasure they afford, even when
generate still and cast their seeds in the pleasure was their principal object. We
minds of others, provoking and causing must also regard the intelligence which
infinite actions and opinions in succeeding they presuppose and exercise.”1
ages ; so that if the invention of the ship
Thoroughly to enjoy Poetry we must
was thought so noble, which carrietli riches not limit ourselves, but must rise to a
and commodities from place to place, and high ideal.
consociateth the most remote regions in
“ Yes ; constantly in reading poetry, a
participation of their fruits, how much sense for the best, the really excellent,
more are letters to be magnified, which, and of the strength and joy to be drawn
as ships, pass through the vast seas of time from it, should be present in our minds,
and make ages so distant to participate of and should govern our estimate of what
the wisdom, illuminations, and inventions, we read.” 2
the one of the other 1 ” 1
Cicero, in his oration for Archias, well
The poet requires many qualifications. asked, “ Has not this man then a right to
“ Who has traced,” says Cousin, “ the plan my love, to my admiration, to all the
of this poem ? Reason. Who has given means which I can employ in his defence ?
it life and charm ? Love. And who has For we are instructed by all the greatest
guided reason and love ? The Will.” All and most learned of mankind, that educa
men have some imagination, but the lover tion, precepts, and practice, can in every
and the poet
other branch of learning produce excel
“ Are of imagination all compact.
lence. But a poet is formed by the hand
of nature ; he is aroused by mental vigour,
The Poet’s eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
and inspired by what we may call the
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth
spirit of divinity itself. Therefore our
to heaven,
And as imagination bodies forth
Ennius has a right to give to poets the
The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen epithet of Holy,3 because they are, as it
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing !
were, lent to mankind by the indulgent
A local habitation and a name.” 2
bounty of the gods.”
Poetry is the fruit of genius; but it
“Poetry,” says Shelley, “awakens and
cannot be produced without labour. Moore, enlarges the mind itself by rendering it
one of the airiest of poets, tells us that he
1 St. Hilaire.
2 Arnold.
was a slow and painstaking workman.
1 Bacon.
2 Shakespeare.
3 Plato styles poets the sons and interpreters
of the gods,
�CHAP. VI
POETRY
73
The man who has a love for Poetry can
scarcely fail to derive intense pleasure
from Nature, which to those who love it
is all “ beauty to the eye and music to
the ear.”
“Yet Nature never set forth the earth
in so rich tapestry as divers poets have
done ; neither with so pleasant rivers,
fruitful trees, sweet-smelling flow’ers, nor
whatsoever else may make the too-muchloved earth more lovely.”1
In the smokiest city the poet will
transport us, as if by enchantment, to the
fresh air and bright sun, to the murmur
of woods and leaves and water, to the
ripple of waves upon sand ; and enable
us, as in some delightful dream, to cast
off the cares and troubles of life.
The poet, indeed, must have more true
knowledge, not only of human nature,
but of all Nature, than other men are
gifted with.
Crabbe Robinson tells us that when a
“ Higher still and higher
stranger once asked permission to see
From the earth thou springest
Wordsworth’s study, the maid said, “ This
Like a cloud of fire ;
The blue deep thou wingest,
is master’s Library, but he studies in the
And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever fields.” No wonder then that Nature
singest.
has been said to return the poet’s love.
the receptacle of a thousand unappre
hended combinations of thought. Poetry
lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of
the world, and makes familiar objects be
as if they were not familiar ; it repro
duces all that it represents, and the im
personations clothed in its Elysian light
stand thenceforward in the minds of those
who have once contemplated them, as
memorials of that gentle and exalted
content which extends itself over all
thoughts and actions with which it co
exists.”
And again, “All high Poetry is infinite;
it is as the first acorn, which contained
all oaks potentially. Veil after veil may
be undrawn, and the inmost naked beauty
of the meaning never exposed. A great
poem is a fountain for ever overflowing
with the waters of wisdom and delight.”
Or, as he has expressed himself in his
Ode to a Skylark :
“ Like a poet hidden
In the light of thought,
Singing hymns unbidden,
Till the world is wrought
To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not:
“ Call it not vain ;—they do not err
Who say that, when the poet dies,
Mute Nature mourns her worshipper,
And celebrates his obsequies.” 2
Swinburne says of Blake, and I feel
“ Like a glow-worm golden
entirely with him, though in my case the
In a dell of dew,
application would have been different,
Scattering unbeholden
that “The sweetness of sky and leaf, of
Its aerial hue
Among the flowers and grass, which screen it grass and water—the bright light life of
from the view.”
bird, child, and beast—is, so to speak,
We speak now of the poet as the
Maker or Creator—•ttoitjtt/s ; the origin
of the word “ bard ” seems doubtful.
The Hebrews well called their poets
“ Seers,” for they not only perceive more
than others, but also help other men to
see much which would otherwise be lost
to us. The old Greek word was aoiSos
—the Bard or Singer.
Poetry lifts the veil from the beauty
of the world which would otherwise be
hidden, and throws over the most familiar
objects the glow and halo of imagination.
kept fresh by some graver sense of
faithful and mysterious love, explained
and vivified by a conscience and purpose
in the artist’s hand and mind. Such a
fiery outbreak of spring, such an insurrec
tion of fierce floral life and radiant riot
of childish power and pleasure, no poet
or painter ever gave before ; such lustre
of green leaves and flushed limbs, kindled
cloud and fervent fleece, was never
wrought into speech or shape.”
1 Sydney, Defence of Poetry.
3 Scott.
�74
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
To appreciate Poetry we must not
merely glance at it, or rush through it,
or read it in order to talk or write about
it. One must compose oneself into the
right frame of mind. Of course for one’s
own sake one will read Poetry in times of
agitation, sorrow, or anxiety, but that is
another matter.
The inestimable treasures of Poetry
again are open to all of us. The best
books are indeed the cheapest. For the
price of a little beer, a little tobacco,
we can buy Shakespeare or Milton—or
indeed almost as many books as a man
can read with profit in a year.
Nor, in considering the advantage of
Poetry to man, must we limit ourselves
to its past or present influence. The
future of Poetry, says Mr. Matthew
Arnold, and no one was more qualified to
speak, “ The future of Poetry is immense,
because in Poetry, where it is worthy of
its high destinies, our race, as time goes
on, will find an ever surer and surer stay.
But for Poetry the idea is everything ;
the rest is a world of illusion, of divine
illusion. Poetry attaches its emotion to
the idea; the idea is the fact. The
strongest part of our religion to-day is its
unconscious Poetry. We should conceive
of Poetry worthily, and more highly than
it has been the custom to conceive of it.
We should conceive of it as capable of
higher uses, and called to higher destinies
than those which in general men have
assigned to it hitherto.”
Poetry has been well called the record
“ of the best and happiest moments of the
happiest and best minds ” ; it is the light
of life, the very “ image of life expressed
in its eternal truth ” ; it immortalises all
that is best and most beautiful in the
world ; “ it purges from our inward sight
the film of familiarity which obscures
from us the wonder of our being” ; “it
is the centre and circumference of know
ledge ” ; and poets are “ mirrors of the
gigantic shadows which futurity casts
upon the present.”
Poetry, in effect, lengthens life ; it
creates for us time, if time be realised as
TART II
the succession of ideas and not of minutes ;
it is the “ breath and finer spirit of all
knowledge ” ; it is bound neither by time
nor space, but lives in the spirit of man.
What greater praise can be given than
the saying that life should be Poetry put
into action ?
CHAPTER VIT
MUSIC
“Music is a moral law. It gives a soul to
the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the
imagination, a charm to sadness, gaiety and life
to everything. It is the essence of order, and
leads to all that is good, just, and beautiful, of
which it is the invisible, but nevertheless
dazzling, passionate, and eternal form.”—Plato.
Music is in one sense far more ancient
than man, and the voice was, from the
very commencement of human existence,
a source of melody. The early history of
Music is, however, unfortunately wrapped
in much obscurity. The use of letters
long preceded the invention of notes, and
tradition in such a matter can tell us but
little. So far, however, as musical in
struments are concerned, it is probable
that percussion came first, then wind in
struments, and lastly, those with strings :
first the Drum, then the Flute, and
thirdly, the Lyre.
The contest between Marsyas and
Apollo is supposed by some to typify the
struggle between the Flute and the Lyre ;
Marsyas representing the archaic Flute,
Apollo the champion of the Lyre. The
latter of course was victorious : it sets the
voice free, and the sound
“ Of music that is born of human breath
Conies straighter to the soul than any strain
The hand alone can make.” 1
Various myths have grown up to ex
plain the origin of Music. One Greek
tradition was to the effect that Grass
hoppers were human beings themselves
in a world before the Muses ; that when
1 L. Morris.
�CHAP. VII
MUSIC
75
the Muses came, being ravished with
delight, they “sang and sang and forgot
to eat, until they died of hunger for the
love of song. And they carry to heaven
the report of those who honour them on
earth.” 1
The old writers and commentators tell
us that Pythagoras, “ as he was one day
meditating on the want of some rule to
guide the ear, analogous to what had
been used to help the other senses,
chanced to pass by a blacksmith’s shop,
and observing that the hammers, which
were four in number, sounded very har
moniously, he had them weighed, and
found them to be in the proportion of
six, eight, nine, and twelve. Upon this
he suspended four strings of equal length
and thickness, etc., fastened weights in
the above-mentioned proportions to each
of them respectively, and found that they
gave the same sounds that the hammers
had done; viz., the fourth, fifth, and
octave to the gravest tone.”2 However
this may be, it would appear that the
lyre had at first four strings only;
Terpander is said to have given it three
more, and an eighth was subsequently
added.
The Chinese indicated the notes by
words or their initials. The lowest was
termed “ Koung,” or the Emperor, as
being the Foundation on which all were
supported ; the second was Tschang, the
Prime Minister ; the third, the Subject;
the fourth, Public Business ; the fifth,
the Mirror of Heaven.3 The Greeks also
had a name for each note. We have
unfortunately no specimens of Greek 4 or
Roman, or even of Early Christian music.
The so-called Gregorian notes were not
invented until six hundred years after
Gregory’s death. The Monastery of St.
Gall possesses a copy of Gregory’s Antiphonary, made about the year 780 by a
chorister who was sent from Rome to
Charlemagne to reform the Northern
music, and in this the sounds are indi
cated by “ pneumes,” from which our
notes were gradually developed, being
first arranged along one line, to which
others were gradually added.
The most ancient known piece-of music
for several voices is an English four men’s
song, “Summer is i-comen in,” which is
considered to be at least as early as 1240,
and is now in the British Museum.
.In the matter of music Englishmen
have certainly deserved well of the world.
Even as long ago as 1185 Giraldus
Cambrensis, Archdeacon of St. David’s,
says, “ The Britons do not sing their
tunes in unison like the inhabitants of
other countries, but in different parts.
So that when a company of singers meet
to sing, as is usual in this country, as
many different parts are heard as there
are singers.”1
The Venetian ambassador in the time
of Henry VIII. said of our English
Church music : “ The mass was sung by
His Majesty’s choristers, whose voices are
more heavenly than human; they did
not chaunt like men, but like angels.”
Dr. Burney says that Purcell was “ as
much the pride of an Englishman in
music as Shakespeare in productions of
the stage, Mil ton in epic poetry, Locke
in metaphysics, or Sir Isaac Newton in
philosophy and mathematics ” ; and yet
Purcell’s music is unfortunately but little
known to us now, as Macfarren says, “ to
our great loss.”
Purcell died early, and on his tomb is
the celebrated epitaph—
“ Here lies Henry Purcell, who left
this life, and is gone to that blessed place,
where, only, his harmony can be exceeded.”
The authors of some of the loveliest
music, and even in some cases that of
comparatively recent times, are unknown
to us. This is the case for instance with
the exquisite song “Drink to me only
with thine eyes,” the words of which
were taken by Jonson from Philostratus,
1 Plato.
2 Crowest.
and which has been considered as the
3 Rowbotliam, History of Music.
4 Since this was written some fragments of a most beautiful of all “people’s songs.”
hymn to Apollo have been found at Delphi.
1 Wakefield.
�76
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
The music of “ God save the Queen ”
has been adopted in more than half a
dozen other countries, and yet the author
ship is a matter of doubt, being attributed
by some to Dr. John Bull, by others to
Carey. It was apparently first sung in a
tavern in Cornhill.
Both the music and words of “ O
Death, rock me to sleep ” are said to be
by Anne Boleyn : “ Stay, Corydon ” and
“ Sweet Honey-sucking Bees ” by Wildye,
“ the first of madrigal writers. ” “ Rule
Britannia ” was composed by Arne, and
originally formed part of his Masque of
Alfred, first performed in 1740 at Cliefden, near Maidenhead. To Arne we are
also indebted for the music of “ Where
the Bee sucks, there lurk I.” “ The
Vicar of Bray ” is set to a tune originally
known as “ A Country Garden.” “ Come
unto these yellow sands ” we owe to
Purcell; “ Sigh no more, Ladies ” to
Stevens ; “ Home, Sweet Home ” to
Bishop.
There is a curious melancholy in
national music, which is generally in the
minor key ; indeed this holds good with
the music of savage races generally.
They appear, moreover, to have no love
songs.
Herodotus tells us that during the
whole time he was in Egypt he only
heard one song, and that was a sad one.
My own experience there was the same.
Some tendency to melancholy seems in
herent in music, and Jessica is not alone
in the feeling
Pz\RT II
composed “ Il trillo del Diavolo,” con
sidered to be his best work, in a dream.
Rossini, speaking of the chorus in G
minor in his “ Dal tuo stellato soglio,”
tells us: “ While I was writing the
chorus in G minor I suddenly dipped my
pen into a medicine bottle instead of the
ink. I made a blot, and when I dried
this with the sand it took the form of a
natural, which instantly gave me the idea
of the effect the change from G minor to
G major would make, and to this blot is
all the effect, if any, due.” But these of
course are exceptional cases.
There are other forms of Music, which,
though not strictly entitled to the name,
are yet capable of giving intense pleasure.
To the Sportsman what Music can excel
that of the hounds themselves. The
cawing of rooks has been often quoted as
a sound which has no actual beauty of its
own, and yet which is delightful from its
associations.
There is, moreover, a true Music of
Nature,— the song of birds, the whisper
of leaves, the ripple of waters upon a
sandy shore, the wail of wind or sea.
There was also an ancient impression
that the Heavenly bodies give out sound
as well as light: the Music of the Spheres
has become proverbial.
“There’s not the smallest orb which thou beholdest
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims ;
Such harmony is in immortal souls.
But while this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.” 1
Music indeed often seems as if it
scarcely belonged to this material universe,
The histories of music contain many but was
curious anecdotes as to the circumstances
“ A tone
under w’hich different works have been
Of some world far from ours,
Where music, and moonlight, and feeling are
composed.
one.” 2
Rossini tells us that he wrote the over
“ It is a language which is incapable
ture to the “ Gazza Ladra ” on the very
day of the first performance, in the upper of expressing anything impure.” There
loft of the La Scala, where he had been is music in speech as well as in song.
confined by the manager under the guard Not merely in the voice of those we love,
of four scene-shifters, who threw the text and the charm of association, but in
out of window to copyists bit by bit as it actual melody ; as when Milton says,
was composed. Tartini is said to have
1 Shakespeare.
2 Swinburne.
“ I am never merry when I hear sweet music.”
�MUSIC
CHAP. VII
77
“ The Angel ended, and in Adam’s ear
As touching the human heart—
So charming left his voice, that he awhile
Thought him still speaking, still stood fixed “ The soul of music slumbers in the shell,
Till waked and kindled by the master’s spell ;
to hear.”
And feeling hearts—touch them but rightly—
pour
It is remarkable that more pains are
A thousand melodies unheard before.”1
not taken with the voice in conversation
As an education—
as well as in singing, for
“What plea so tainted and corrupt
But, being seasoned with a gracious voice,
Obscures the show of evil.”
As a general rule
“ I have sent books and music there, and all
Those instruments with which high spirits call
The future from its cradle, and the past
Out of its grave, and make the present last
In thoughts and joys which sleep, but cannot
die,
Folded within their own eternity.” 2
‘ ‘ The man that hath no Music in himself
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ” ;1 As an aid to religion—
“ As from the power of sacred lays
but there are some notable exceptions.
The spheres began to move,
Dr. Johnson had. no love of music. On
And sung the great Creator’s praise
one occasion, hearing that a certain piece
To all the blessed above,
So when the last and dreadful hour
of music was very difficult, he expressed
This crumbling pageant shall devour,
his regret that it was not impossible.
The trumpet shall be heard on high,
Poets, as( might have been expected,
The dead shall live, the living die,
have sung most sweetly in praise of song.
And music shall untune the sky.” 3
They have, moreover, done so from the Or again—
opposite points of view.
“Hark how it falls ! and now it steals along,
Milton invokes it as a luxury—
“ And ever against eating cares
Lap me in soft Lydian airs ;
Married to immortal verse
Such as the meeting soul may pierce,
In notes -with many a winding bout
Of linked sweetness long drawn out ;
With wanton heed, and giddy cunning,
The melting voice through mazes running ;
Untwisting all the chains that tie
The hidden soul of harmony.”
Like distant beHs upon the lake at eve,
When all is still; and now it grows more strong
As when the choral train their dirges weave
Mellow and many voiced ; where every close
O’er the old minster roof, in echoing waves
reflows.
Oh ! I am rapt aloft. My spirit soars
Beyond the skies, and leaves the stars behind;
Lo ! angels lead me to the happy shores.
And floating paeans fill the buoyant wind.
Farewell! base earth, farewell ! my soul is
freed.”
Sometimes it is used as a temptation : so
The power of Music to sway the feel
Spenser says of Phsedria,
ings of Man has never been more cleverly
“ And she, more sweet than any bird on bough, portrayed than by Dryden in “ The
Would oftentimes amongst them bear a part, Feast of Alexander,” though the circum
And strive to passe (as she could well enough)
stances of the case precluded any reference
Their native musicke by her skilful art.”
to the influence of Music in its nobler
Or as an element of pure happiness—
aspects.
Poets have always attributed to Music
“There is in souls a sympathy with sounds ;
And as the mind is pitched, the ear is pleased —and who can deny it—a power even
With melting airs or martial, brisk or grave ; over the inanimate forces of Nature.
Some chord in unison with what we hear
Shakespeare accounts for shooting stars
Is touched within us, and the heart replies.
by the attraction of Music :
How soft the music of those village bells,
Falling at intervals upon the e.ar
In cadence sweet, now dying all away,
Now pealing loud again and louder still
Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on.” 2
1 Shakespeare.
2 Cowper.
“ The rude sea grew civil at her song,
And certain stars shot madly from their spheres
To hear the Sea-maid’s Music.”
Prose writers have also been inspired
1 Rogers.
2 Shelley.
3 Dryden.
�7«
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
by Music to their highest eloquence.
“ Music,” said Plato, “ is a moral law.
It gives a soul to the universe, wings to
the mind, flight to the imagination, a
charm to sadness, gaiety and life to
everything. It is the essence of order,
and leads to all that is good, just, and
beautiful, of which it is the invisible,
but nevertheless dazzling, passionate, and
eternal form.”
“Music,” said Luther,
“is a fair and glorious gift from God. I
would not for all the world renounce my
humble share in music.” “Music,” said
Halevy, “is an art that God has given
us, in which the voices of all nations
may unite their prayers in one harmoni
ous rhythm.” And Carlyle, “ Music is a
kind of inarticulate, unfathomable speech,
which leads us to the edge of the infinite,
and lets us for moments gaze into it.”
“ There are but seven notes in the
scale; make them fourteen,” says Newman,
“ yet what a slender outfit for so vast an
enterprise ! What science brings so miicli
out of so little ?
Out of what poor
elements does some great master in it
create his new world ! Shall we say that
all this exuberant inventiveness is a mere
ingenuity or trick of art, like some game
of fashion of the day, without reality,
without meaning ? . . . Is it possible that
that inexhaustible evolution and dis
position of notes, so rich yet so simple, so
intricate yet so regulated, so various yet
so majestic, should be a mere sound, which
is gone and perishes ? Can it be that
those mysterious stirrings of the heart, and
keen emotions, and strange yearnings after
we know not what, and awful impressions
from we know not whence, should be
wrought in us by what is unsubstantial,
and conies and goes, and begins and ends
in itself ? it is not so ; it cannot be. No ;
they have escaped from some higher
sphere ; they are the outpourings of eter
nal harmony in the medium of created
sound ; they are echoes from our Home ;
they are the voice of Angels, or the Mag
nificat of Saints, or the living laws of
Divine Governance, or the Divine Attri
butes ; something are they besides them
PART II
selves, which we cannot compass, which
we cannot utter, though mortal man, and
he perhaps not otherwise distinguished
above his fellows, has the gift of eliciting
them.”
Let me also quote Helmholtz, one of
the. profoundest exponents of modern
science. “Just as in the rolling ocean,
this movement, rhythmically repeated, and
yet ever-varying, rivets our attention and
hurries us along. But whereas in the sea
blind physical forces alone are at work,
and hence the final impression on the
spectator’s mind is nothing but solitude—
in a musical work of art the movement
follows the outflow of the artist’s own
emotions. Now gently gliding, now grace
fully leaping, now violently stirred,
penetrated, or laboriously contending with
the natural expression of passion, the
stream of sound, in primitive vivacity,
bears over into the hearer’s soul unimagined
moods which the artist has overheard
from his own, and finally raises him up to
that repose of everlasting beauty of which
God has allowed but few of his elect
favourites to be the heralds.”
Poetry and Music unite in song. From
the earliest ages song has been the sweet
companion of labour. The rude chant of
the boatman floats upon the water, the
shepherd sings upon the hill, the milk
maid in the dairy, the ploughman in the
field. Every trade, every occupation,
every act and scene of life, has long
had its own especial music. The bride
went to 'her marriage, the labourer to
his work, the old man to his last long rest,
each with appropriate and immemorial
music.
Music has been truly described as the
mother of sympathy, the handmaid of
Religion, and will never exercise its full
effect, as the Emperor Charles VI. said to
Farinelli, unless it aims not merely to
charm the ear, but to touch the heart.
There are many who consider that our
life at present is peculiarly prosaic and
mercenary. I greatly doubt whether
that be the case, but if so our need for
Music is all the more imperative.
�CHAP. VIII
THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE
Much indeed as Music has already done
for man, we may hope even more from it
in the future.
It is, moreover, a joy for all. To ap
preciate Science or Art requires some
training, and no doubt the cultivated ear
will more and more appreciate the beauties
of Music ; but though there are exceptional
individuals, and even races, almost devoid
of any love of Music, still they are happily
but rare.
Good Music, moreover, does not neces
sarily involve any considerable outlay ; it
is even now no mere luxury of the rich,
and we may hope that as time goes on, it
will become more and more the comfort
and solace of the poor.
CHAPTER VIII
THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE
“ Speak to the earth and it shall teach thee.”
Job.
“ And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running
brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.”
Shakespeare.
We are told in the first chapter of Genesis
that at the close of the sixth day “ God
saw every thing that he had made, and,
behold, it was very good.” Not merely
good, but very good. Yet how few of us
appreciate the beautiful world in which we
live 1
In preceding chapters I have incident
ally, though only incidentally, referred to
the Beauties of Nature ; but any attempt,
however imperfect, to sketch the blessings
of life must contain some special reference
to this lovely world itself, which the Greeks
happily called /cocr/ws—beauty.
Hamerton, in his charming work on
Landscape, says, “ There are, I believe,
four new experiences for which no de
scription ever adequately prepares us, the
first sight of the sea, the first journey in
the desert, the sight of flowing molten lava,
79
and a walk on a great glacier. We feel in
each case that the strange thing is pure
nature, as much nature as a familiar
English moor, yet so extraordinary that
we might be in another planet.” But it
would, I think, be easier to enumerate the
Wonders of Nature for which description
can prepare us, than those which are
beyond the power of language.
Many of us, however, walk through
the world like ghosts, as if we were in it,
but not of it. We have “ eyes and see
not, ears and hear not.” We must look
before wre can expect to see. To look is
indeed much less easy than to overlook,
and to be able to see what we do see, is a
great gift. Ruskin maintains that “ The
greatest thing a human soul ever does in
this world is to see something, and tell
what it saw in a plain way.” . I do not
suppose that his eyes are better than ours,
but how much more he sees with them !
“ To the attentive eye,” says Emerson,
“ each moment of the year has its own
beauty ; and in the same field it beholds
every hour a picture that was never seen
before, and shall never be seen again.
The heavens change every moment and
reflect their glory or gloom on the plains
beneath.”
The love of Nature is a great gift, and
if it is frozen or crushed out, the character
can hardly fail to suffer from the loss.
I will not, indeed, say that a person
who does not love Nature is necessarily
bad ; or that one who does, is necessarily
good; but it is to most minds a great
help. Many, as Miss Cobbe says, enter
the Temple through the gate called
Beautiful.
There are doubtless some to whom none
of the beautiful wonders of Nature; neither
the glories of the rising or setting sun ; the
magnificent spectacle of the boundless
ocean, sometimes so grand in its peaceful
tranquillity, at others so majestic in its
mighty power ; the forests agitated by the
storm, or alive with the song of birds;
nor the glaciers and mountains—there
are doubtless some whom none of these
magnificent spectacles can move, w’hom
�So
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
l’ART II
“ all the glories of heaven and earth else is illusion, or mere endurance. To
may pass in daily succession without be beautiful and to be calm, without
touching their hearts or elevating their mental fear, is the ideal of Nature.”
minds.” 1
I must not, however, enlarge on the
Such men are indeed pitiable. But, contrast and variety of the seasons, each
happily, they are exceptions. If we can of which has its own special charm and
noire of us as yet fully appreciate the i interest, as
beauties of Nature, we are beginning to
“ The daughters of the year
do so more and more.
Dance into light and die into the shade.” 1
For most of us the early summer has a
Our countrymen derive great pleasure
special charm. The very life is luxury.
The air is full of scent, and sound, and from the animal kingdom, in hunting,
sunshine, of the song of birds and the shooting, and fishing, thus obtaining fresh
murmur of insects ; the meadows gleam 1 air and exercise, and being led into much
with golden buttercups ; one can almost varied and beautiful scenery. Still it
see the grass grow and the buds open ; will probably ere long be recognised that
the bees hum for very joy, and the air even from a purely selfish point of view,
is full of a thousand scents, above all killing animals is not the way to get
the greatest enjoyment from them. How
perhaps that of new-mown hay.
The exquisite beauty and delight of much more interesting would every walk
a fine summer’s day in the country has in the country be, if Man would but treat
never perhaps been more truly, and there-I other animals with kindness, so that they
fore more beautifully, described, than by might approach us without fear, and we
Jefferies in his “Pageant of Summer.” I might have the constant pleasure of
Their
“ I linger,” he says, “ in the midst of the watching their winning ways.
long grass, the luxury of the leaves, and origin and history, structure and habits,
the song in the very air. I seem as if I senses and intelligence, offer an endless
could feel all the glowing life the sunshine field of interest and wonder.
The richness of life is marvellous. Any
gives and the south wind calls to being.
The endless grass, the endless leaves, the one who will sit down quietly on the
immense strength of the oak expanding, grass and watch a little, will be indeed
the unalloyed joy of finch and blackbird ; surprised at the number and variety of
from all of them I receive a little. . . . living beings, every one with a special
In the blackbird’s melody one note is history of its own, every one offering
mine ; in the dance of the leaf shadows ' endless problems of great interest.
“ If indeed thy heart were right, then
the formed maze is for me, though the
motion is theirs ; the flowers with a thou would every creature be to thee a rnirrox'
sand faces have collected the kisses of the of life, and a book of holy doctrine.” 2
The study of Natural History has the
morning. Feeling with them, I receive
some, at least, of their fulness of life. special advantage of carrying us into the
Never could I have enough ; never stay country and the open air.
Not but what towns are beautiful too.
long enough. . . . The hours when the
mind is absorbed by beauty are the only They teem with human interest and his
hours when we really live, so that the torical associations.
Wordsworth was an intense lover of
longer we can stay among these things
so much the more is snatched from nature ; yet does he not tell us, in lines
inevitable Time. . . . These are the which every Londoner will appreciate,
only hours that are not wasted—these that he knew nothing in nature more
hours that absorb the soul and fill it fair, no calm more deep, than the city of
with beauty. This is real life, and all London at early dawn ?
1 Beattie.
1 Tennyson.
Thomas a Kempis.
�THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE
CHAP. VIII
“Earth has not anything to show more fair ;
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the igorning ; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky ;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air..
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep !
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God ! the very houses seem asleep ;
And all that mighty heart is lying still ! ”
Milton also described London as
81
mountain-side up to the very edge of the
eternal snow.
And what an infinite variety they
present.
“Daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty ; violets, dim.
But sweeter than the lids of Juno’s eyes,
Or Cytherea’s breath ; pale primroses,
That die unmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phoebus in his strength, a malady
Most incident to maids ; bold oxlips and
The crown imperial ; lilies of all kinds,
The flower-de-luce being one.”1
Nor are they mere delights to the eye ;
they are full of mystery and suggestions.
Some of our streets indeed are lines of They almost seem like enchanted prin
cesses waiting for some princely deliverer.
loveliness, but yet, after being some time
Wordsworth tells us that
in a great city, one longs for the country.
“Too blest abode, no loveliness we see
In all the earth, but it abounds in thee.”
“The meanest floweret of the vale,
The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the air, the skies,
To him are opening paradise.”1
“ To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.”
Here Gray justly places flowers in the
first place, for whenever in any great
town we think of the country, flowers
seem first to suggest themselves.
“ Flowers,” says Ruskin, “ seem in
tended for the solace of ordinary humanity.
Children love them; quiet, tender, con
tented, ordinary people love them as they
grow ; luxurious and disorderly people
rejoice in them gathered. They are the
cottager’s treasure ; and in the crowded
town, mark, as with a little broken frag
ment of rainbow, the windows of the
workers in whose heart rests the covenant
of peace.” But in the crowded street, or
even in the formal garden, flowers always
seem, to me at least, as if they were pining
for the freedom of the woods and fields,
where they can live and grow as they
please.
There are flowers for almost all seasons
and all places,—flowers for spring,
summer, and autumn ; while even in the
very depth of winter here and there one
makes its appearance. There are flowers
of the fields and woods and hedgerows, of
the seashore and the lake’s margin, of the
Every color again, every variety of form,
has some purpose and explanation.
And yet, lovely as Flowers are, Leaves
add even more to the Beauty of Nature.
Trees in our northern latitudes seldom
own large flowers; and though of course
there are notable exceptions, such as the
Horse-chestnut, still even in these cases
the flowers live only a few days, while
the leaves last for months.
Every tree indeed is a picture in itself:
The gnarled and rugged Oak, the symbol
and source of our navy, sacred to the
memory of the Druids, the type of
strength, is the sovereign of British trees :
the Chestnut has beautiful, tapering, and
rich green, glossy leaves, delicious fruit,
and wood so durable that to it we owe
the grand and historic roof of Westminster
Hall.
The Birch is the queen of trees, with
her feathery foliage, scarcely visible in
spring but turning to gold in autumn;
the pendulous twigs tinged with purple,
and silver stems so brilliantly marked
with black and white.
The Beech enlivens the country by its
tender green in spring, rich tints in
summer, and glorious gold and orange in
1 Gray.
1 Shakespeare.
G
�THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
82
autumn, set off by the graceful gray
stem ; and has, moreover, such a wealth
of leaves that, as we see in autumn, there
are enough not only to clothe the tree
itself but to cover the grass underneath.
If the Beech owes much to its delicate
gray stem, quite as beautiful is the reddish
crimson of the Scotch Pine, in such
charming contrast with the rich green of
the foliage, by which it is shown off
rather than hidden. Pines, moreover,
with the green spires of the Firs, keep the
woods warm in winter.
The Elm forms grand masses of foliage
which turn a beautiful golden yellow in
autumn ; and the Black Poplar with its
perpendicular leaves, rustling and trem
bling with every breath of wind, towers
over most of our other forest trees.
Nor must I overlook the smaller trees :
the Yew with its thick green foliage ; the
wild Guelder rose, which lights up the
woods in autumn with translucent glossy
berries and many-tinted leaves ; or the
Bryonies, the Briar, the Traveller’s Joy,
and many another plant, even humbler
perhaps, and yet each with some exquisite
beauty and grace of its own, so that we
must all have sometimes felt our hearts
overflowing with gladness and gratitude,
as if the woods were full of music—as if
“ The woods were filled so full with song
There seemed no room for sense of wrong.”1
On the whole, no doubt, woodlands are
most beautiful in the summer ; yet even
in winter the delicate tracery of the
branches, which cannot be so well seen
when they are clothed with leaves, has a
special beauty of its own ; while every
now and then hoar frost or snow settles
like silver on every branch and twig,
lighting up the forest as if by enchant
ment in preparation for some fairy
festival.
I feel with Jefferies that “by day or
by night, summer or winter, beneath
trees the heart feels nearer to that depth
of life which the far sky means. The
rest of spirit found only in beauty, ideal
,
1 Tennyson.
TART II
and pure, comes there because the distance
seems within touch of thought.”
The general effect of forests in tropical
regions must be very different from that
of those in our latitudes.
Kingsley
describes it as one of helplessness, con
fusion, awe, all but terror. The trunks
are lofty and straight, rising to a great
height without a branch, so that the wood
seems at first comparatively open. In
Brazilian forests, for instance, the trees
struggle upwards, and the foliage forms
an unbroken canopy, perhaps a hundred
feet overheard. Here, indeed, high up in
the air is the real life of the forest.
Everything seems to climb to the light.
The quadrupeds climb, birds climb,
reptiles climb, and tlie variety of climb
ing plants is far greater than anything to
which we are accustomed.
Many savage nations worship trees,
and I really think my first feeling would
be one of delight and interest rather than
of surprise, if some day when I am alone
in a wood one of the trees were to speak
to me. Even by day there is something
mysterious in a forest, and this is much
more the case at night.
With wood, Water seems to be natur
ally associated. Without water no land
scape is complete, while overhead the
clouds add beauty to the heavens them
selves. The spring and the rivulet, the
brook, the river, and the lake, seem to
give life to Nature, and were indeed re
garded by our ancestors as living entities
themselves.
Water is beautiful in the
morning mist, in the broad lake, in the
glancing stream, in tlie river pool, or the
wide ocean, beautiful in all its varied
moods. Water nourishes vegetation ; it
clothes the lowlands with green and the
mountains with snow. It sculptures the
rocks and excavates the valleys, in most
cases acting mainly through the soft rain,
though our harder rocks are still grooved
by the ice-chisel of bygone ages.
The refreshing power of water upon
the earth is scarcely greater than that
which it exercises on the mind of man.
After a long spell of work how delightful
�CHAP. VIII
THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE
83
it is to sit by a lake or river, or on the and quarries and lines of stratification
seashore, and enjoy the fresh air, the began to show themselves, though the
glancing sunshine on the water, and the cliffs were still in shadow, and the more
ripple of the waves upon sand.
distant headlands still a mere succession
Every Englishman loves the sight of of ghosts, each one fainter than the one
the Sea. We feel that it is to us a second before it. As the morning advances the
home. It seems to vivify the very at sea becomes blue, the dark woods, green
mosphere, so that Sea air is proverbial as meadows, and golden cornfields of the
a tonic, and the very thought of it makes opposite coast more distinct, the details
the blood dance in our veins. The Ocean of the cliffs come gradually into view,
gives an impression of freedom and and fishing-boats with dark sails begin to
grandeur more intense perhaps even than appear.
the aspect of the heavens themselves. A
Gradually as the sun rises higher, a
poor woman from Manchester, on being yellow line of shore appears under the
taken to the seaside, is said to have ex opposite cliffs, and the sea changes its
pressed her delight on seeing for the first color, mapping itself out as it were, the
time something of which there was enough shallower parts turquoise blue, almost
for everybody. The sea coast is always green ; the deeper ones violet.
interesting. When we think of the cliff
This does not last long—a thunderstorm
sections with their histories of bygone comes up. The wind mutters overhead,
ages ; the shore itself teeming with sea the rain patters on the leaves, the coast
weeds and animals, waiting for the return opposite seems to shrink into itself, as if
of the tide, or thrown up from deeper it would fly from the storm. The sea
water by the waves; the weird cries of grows dark and rough, and white horses
seabirds ; the delightful feeling that, with appear here and there.
every breath, we are laying in a store of
But the storm is soon over. The clouds
fresh life, and health, and energy, it is break, the rain stops, the sun shines once
impossible to over-estimate all we owe to more, the hills opposite come out again.
the Sea.
They are divided now not only into fields
It is, moreover, always changing. We and woods, but into sunshine and shadow.
went for our holiday last year to Lyme The sky clears, and as the sun begins to
Regis. Let me attempt to describe the descend westwards the sea becomes one
changes in the view from our windows beautiful clear uniform azure, changing
during a single day. Our sitting-room again soon to pale blue in front and dark
opened on to a little lawn, beyond which violet beyond; and once more, as clouds
the ground dropped suddenly to the sea, begin to gather again, into an archipelago
while over about two miles of water were of bright blue sea and islands of deep
the hills of the Dorsetshire coast—-Golden ultramarine. As the sun travels west
Cap, with its bright crest of yellow sand, ward, the opposite hills change again.
and the dark blue Lias Cliff of Black Ven, They scarcely seem like the same country.
When I came down early in the morning What was in sun is now in shade, and
the sun was rising opposite, shining into what was in shade now lies bright in the
the room over a calm sea, along an avenue sunshine. The sea once more becomes a
of light; by degrees, as it rose, the whole uniform solid blue, only flecked in places
sea glowed in the sunshine while the hills by scuds of wind, and becoming paler
were bathed in a violet mist. By break towards evening as the sun sinks, the cliffs
fast-time all color had faded from the which catch his setting rays losing their
sea—it was like silver passing on each deep color and in some places looking
side into gray ; the sky blue, flecked with almost as white as chalk ; while at sunset
fleecy clouds ; while, on the gentler slopes they light up again for a moment with a
of the coast opposite, fields and woods, | golden glow, the sea at the same time
�84
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
sinking to a cold gray. But soon the
hills grow cold too, Golden Cap holding
out bravely to the last, and the shades of
evening settle over cliff and wood, corn
field and meadow.
These are but a part, and a very small
part, of the changes of a single day. And
scarcely any two days are alike. At
times a sea-fog covers everything. Again
the sea which sleeps to-day so peacefully,
sometimes rages, and the very existence of
the bay itself bears witness to its force.
The night, again, varies like the day.
Sometimes shrouded by a canopy of dark
ness, sometimes lit up by millions of
brilliant worlds, sometimes bathed in the
light of a moon, which never retains the
same form for two nights together.
If Lakes are less grand than the sea,
they are in some respects even more
lovely. The seashore is comparatively
bare. The banks of Lakes are often
richly clothed with vegetation which
comes close down to the water’s edge,
sometimes hanging even into the water
itself. They are often studded with wellwooded islands. They are sometimes
fringed with green meadows, sometimes
bounded by rocky promontories rising
directly from comparatively deep water ;
while the calm bright surface is often
fretted by a delicate pattern of interlacing
ripples ; or reflects a second, softened, and
inverted landscape.
To water again we owe the marvellous
spectacle of the rainbow—“ God’s bow in
the clouds.” It is indeed truly a heavenly
messenger, and so unlike anything else that
it scarcely seems to belong to this world.
Many things are colored, but the rain
bow seems to be color itself.
“ First the flaming red
Sprang vivid forth ; the tawny orange next,
And next delicious yellow ; by whose side
Fell the kind beams of all-refreshing green.
Then the pure blue that swells autumnal skies.
Ethereal play’d ; and then, of sadder hue
Emerged the deeper indigo (as when
The heavy-skirted evening droops with frost),
While the last gleamings of refracted light
Died in the fainting violet away.”1
1 Thomson.
PART II
We do not, I think, sufficiently realise
how wonderful is the blessing of color.
It would have been possible, it would
even seem more probable, that though
light might have enabled us to perceive
objects, this would only have been by
shade and form. How we perceive color
is not yet understood ; and yet when we
speak of beauty, among the ideas which
come to us most naturally are those of
birds and butterflies, flowers and shells,
precious stones, skies, and rainbows.
Our minds might have been constituted
exactly as they are, we might have been
capable of comprehending the highest and
sublimest truths, and yet, but for a small
organ in the head, the world of sound
would have been shut out from us ; we
should have lost all the varied melody of
nature, the charms of music, the conversa
tion of friends, and have been condemned
to perpetual silence: a slight alteration
in the retina, which is not thicker than a
sheet of paper, not larger than a finger
nail,—and the glorious spectacle of this
beautiful world, the exquisite variety of
form, the glow and play of color, the
variety of scenery, of woods and fields,
and lakes and hills, seas and mountains,
the beauty of the sky alike by day and
night, would all have been lost to us.
Mountains, again, “ seem to have been
built for the human race, as at once their
schools and cathedrals ; full of treasures
of illuminated manuscript for the scholar,
kindly in simple lessons for the worker,
quiet in pale cloisters for the thinker,
glorious in holiness for the worshipper.”
They are “great cathedrals of the earth,
with their gates of rock, pavements of
cloud, choirs of stream and stone, altars of
snow, and vaults of purple traversed by
the continual stars.” 1
All these beauties are comprised in
Tennyson’s exquisite description of (Enone’s
vale—the city, flowers, trees, river, and
mountains.
“ There lies a vale in Ida, lovelier
Than all the valleys of Ionian hills.
1 Ruskin.
�CHAP. VIII
THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE
The swimming vapour slopes athwart the glen,
Puts forth an arm, and creeps from pine to pine,
And loiters, slowly drawn. On either hand
The lawns and meadow-ledges midway down
Hang rich in flowers, and far below them roars
The long brook falling thro’ the clov’n ravine
In cataract after cataract to the sea.
Behind the valley topmost Gargarus
Stands up and takes the morning; but in front
The gorges, opening wide apart, reveal
Troas and Ilion’s column’d citadel,
The crown of Troas.”
85
The evening colors indeed soon fade
away, but as night comes on,
“ how glows the firmament
With living sapphires ! Hesperus that led
The starry host, rode brightest ; till the moon
Rising in clouded majesty, at length,
Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light,
And o’er the dark her silver mantle threw.” 1
We generally speak of a beautiful night
when it is calm and clear, and the stars
shine brightly overhead ; but how grand
And when we raise our eyes from earth, also are the wild ways of Nature, how
who has not sometimes felt “ the witchery magnificent when the lightning flashes,
of the soft blue sky ” ? who has not “ between gloom and glory ” ; when
watched a cloud floating upwards as if on ‘ ‘ From peak to peak, the rattling crags among
its way to heaven ?
Leaps the live thunder. ” 2
And yet “if, in our moments of utter
In the words of Ossian—
idleness and insipidity, we turn to the sky
“ Ghosts ride in the tempest to-night;
as a last resource, which of its phenomena
Sweet is their voice between the gusts of wind,
do we speak of? One says, it has been
Their songs are of other worlds.”
wet; and another, it has been w'indy;
Nor are the -wonders and beauties of the
and another, it has been warm. Who,
heavens limited by the clouds and the blue
among the whole chattering crowd, can
sky, lovely as they are. In the heavenly
tell me of the forms and the precipices
bodies we have before us the perpetual
of the chain of tall white mountains that
presence of the sublime. They-are so im
girded the horizon at noon yesterday 1
mense and so far away, and yet on soft
Who saw the narrow sunbeam that came
summer nights “they seem leaning down
out of the south, and smote upon their
to whisper in the ear of our souls.” 3
summits until they melted and mouldered
“ A man can hardly lift up his eyes to
away in a dust of blue rain ? Who saw
wards the heavens,” says Seneca, “ without
the dance of the dead clouds when the sun
wonder and veneration, to see so many
light left them last night, and the west
millions of radiant lights, and to observe
wind blew them before it like withered
their courses and revolutions, even with
leaves ? All has passed, unregretted as
out any respect to the common good of the
unseen ; or if the apathy be ever shaken
Universe.”
off, even for an instant, it is only by -what
Who does not sympathise with the
is gross, or what is extraordinary ; and
feelings of Dante as he rose from his visit
yet it is not in the broad and fierce mani
to the lower regions, until, he says,
festations of the elemental energies, not in
the clash of the hail, nor the drift of the “ On our view the beautiful lights of heaven
Dawned through a circular opening in the cave,
whirlwind, that the highest characters of
Thence issuing, we again beheld the stars.”
the sublime are developed.” 1
As we watch the stars at night they
But exquisitely lovely as is the blue
arch of the midday sky, with its inexhaust seem so still and motionless that we can
ible variety of clouds, “ there is yet a light hardly realise that all the time they are
which the eye invariably seeks with a rushing on with a velocity far far exceed
deeper feeling of the beautiful, the light ing any that man has ever accomplished.
Like the sands of the sea, the stars of
of the declining or breaking day, and
the flakes of scarlet cloud burning like heaven have ever been used as an appro
watch-fires in thegreen sky ofthe horizon.” 2 priate symbol of number, and we know
that therfe are more than 100,000,000 ;
1 Ruskin.
2 Ibid.
1 Milton.
2 Byron.
3 Symonds.
�86
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
many, no doubt, with planets of their own.
But this is by no means all. The floor of
heaven is not only “ thick inlaid with
patines of bright gold,” but is studded also
with extinct stars, once probably as bril
liant as our own sun, but now dead and
cold, as Helmholtz thinks that our own
sun will be some seventeen millions of
years hence. Then, again, there are the
comets, which, though but few are visible
to the unaided eye, are even more numerous
than the stars ; there are the nebulae, and
the countless minor bodies circulating in
space, and occasionally visible as meteors.
Nor is it only the number of the
heavenly bodies which is so overwhelm
ing ; their magnitude and distances are
almost more impressive. The ocean is
so deep and broad as to be almost infinite,
and indeed in so far as our imagination
is the limit, so it may be. Yet what is
the ocean compared to the sky ? Our
globe is little compared to the giant orbs
of Jupiter and Saturn, which again sink
into insignificance by the side of the Sun.
The Sun itself is almost as nothing com-,
pared with the dimensions of the solar
system. Sirius is a thousand times as
great as the Sun, and a million times as
far away. The solar system itself travels
in one region of space, sailing between
worlds and worlds ; and is surrounded by
many other systems at least as great and
complex; while we know that even then
we have not reached the limits of the
Universe itself.
There are stars so distant that their
light, though travelling 180,000 miles in
a second, yet takes years to reach us ; and
beyond all these are other systems of stars
which are so far away that they cannot
be perceived singly, but even in our most
powerful telescopes appear only as minute
clouds or nebulae.
The velocities of the Heavenly bodies
are equally astounding. We ourselves
make our annual journey round the Sun
at the rate of 1000 miles a minute ; of
the so-called “ fixed ” stars Sirius moves
at the same rate, and Arcturus no less
than 22,000 miles a minute. And yet
PART II
the distances of the stars are so great
that 1000 years makes hardly any differ
ence in the appearance of the Heavens.
It is, indeed, but a feeble expression
of the truth to say that the infinities re
vealed to us by Science,—the infinitely
great in the one direction, and the in
finitely small in the other,—go far beyond
anything which had occurred to the un
aided imagination of Man, and are not
only a never-failing source of pleasure
and interest, but lift us above the petty
troubles, and help us to bear the greater
sorrows, of life.
CHAPTER IX
THE TROUBLES OF LIFE
“ Count each affliction, whether light or grave,
God’s messenger sent down to thee ;
Grief should be
Like joy, majestic, equable, sedate ;
Confirming, cleansing, raising, making free ;
Strong to consume small troubles ; to commend
Great thoughts, grave thoughts, thoughts
lasting to the end.”
Aubrey be Vere.
We have in life many troubles, and
troubles are of many kinds. Some
sorrows, alas, are real enough, especially
those we bring on ourselves, but others,
and by no means the least numerous, are
mere ghosts of troubles : if we face them
boldly, we find that they have no sub
stance or reality, but are mere creations
of our own morbid imagination, and that
it is as true now as in the time of David
that “ Man disquieteth himself in a vain
shadow.”
Some, indeed, of our troubles are evils,
but not real; while others are real, but
not evils.
“ And yet, into how unfathomable a
gulf the mind rushes when the troubles
of this world agitate it. If it then forget
its own light, which is eternal joy, and
rush into the outer darkness, which are the
�CHAP. IX
THE TROUBLES OF LIFE
cares of this world, as the mind now does,
it knows nothing else but lamentations.” 1
“Athens,” said Epictetus, “is a good
place,—but happiness is much better ; to
be free from passions, free from dis
turbance.”
We should endeavour to maintain our
selves in
“ that blessed mood
In which the burden of the mystery,
In which the heavy and the weary weight,
Of all this unintelligible world
Is lightened.” 2
87
happen equally to good men and bad,
being things which make us neither
better nor worse.”
“ The greatest evils,” observes Jeremy
Taylor, “ are from within us ; and from
ourselves also we must look for our
greatest good.”
“ The mind,” says Milton,
“ is its own place, and in itself
Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.”
Milton indeed in his blindness saw
more beautiful visions, and Beethoven in
his deafness heard more heavenly music,
So shall we fear “neither the exile of than most of us can ever hope to enjoy.
Aristides, nor the prison of Anaxagoras,
We are all apt, when we know not
nor the poverty of Socrates, nor the con what may happen, to fear the worst.
demnation of Phocion, but think virtue When we know the full extent of any
worthy our love even under such trials.” 3 : danger, it is half over. Hence, we dread
We should then be, to a great extent, in-1 ghosts more than robbers, not only with
dependent of external circumstanced, for out reason, but against reason ; for even
if ghosts existed, how could they hurt us ?
“ Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage,
and in ghost stories, few, even of those
Minds innocent and quiet take
who say that they have seen ,a ghost, ever
That for an hermitage.
profess or pretend to have felt one.
“ If I have freedom in my love,
Milton, in his description of death,
And in my soul am free ;
dwells on this characteristic of obscurity :
Angels alone that soar above
Enjoy such liberty.” 4
In the wise words of Shakespeare,
“ All places that the eye of Heaven visits
Are to the wise man ports and happy havens.”
“ The other shape—
If shape it might be call’d that shape had none
Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb ;
Or substance might be call’d that shadow
seem’d,
For each seem’d either—black he stood as
night,
Fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell.
And shook a dreadful dart. What seem’d
his head
The likeness of a kingly crown had on.”
Happiness indeed depends much more
on what is within than without us.
When Hamlet says that the world is “ a
goodly prison ; in which there are many
confines, wards, and dungeons; Denmark
The effect of darkness and night in
being one of the worst,” and Rosencrantz enhancing terrors is dwelt on in one of
differs from him, he rejoins wisely, “ Why the sublimest passages in Job—
then, ’tis none to you : for there is
“ In thoughts from the visions of the night,
nothing either good or bad, but thinking
When deep sleep falleth on men,
makes it so : to me it is a prison.”
Fear came upon me, and trembling,
Which made all my bones to shake.
“All is opinion,” said Marcus Aurelius.
Then a spirit passed before my face ;
“ That which does not make a man worse,
The hair of my flesh stood up :
how can it make his life worse ? But
It stood still, but I could not discern the form
death certainly, and life, honor and dis
thereof:
An image was before mine eyes,
honor, pain and pleasure, all these things
1 King Alfred’s translation of the Consola
tions of Boethius.
2 Wordsworth.
3 Plutarch.
4 Lovelace.
There was silence, and I heard a voice, saying,
Shall mortal man be more just than God ? ”
Thus was the terror turned into a lesson
of comfort and of mercy.
�88
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
We often magnify troubles and diffi
culties, and look at them till they seein
much greater than they really are.
Dangers are often “ light, if they once
seem light; and more dangers have
deceived men than forced them: nay,
it were better to meet some dangers
half way, though they come nothing
near, than to keep too long a watch
upon their approaches ; for if a man
watch too long, it is odds he will fall
asleep.” 1
Foresight is wise, but fore-sorrow is
foolish ; and castles are at any rate better
than dungeons, in the air.
It happens, unfortunately too often,
that by some false step, intentional or
unintentional, we have missed the right
road, and gone astray. Can we then
retrace our steps ? can we recover what
is lost ? This may be done. It is too
gloomy a view to affirm that
“ A sigh too much, or a kiss too long,
And there comes a mist and a weeping rain,
And life is never the same again.” 2
There are two noble sayings of Socrates,
that to do evil is more to be avoided
than to suffer it; and that when a man
has done evil, it is better for him to be
punished than to be unpunished.
We generally speak of selfishness as
a fault, and as if it interfered with the
general happiness. But this is not alto
gether correct. The pity is that so many
people are foolishly selfish ; that they
pursue a course of action which neither
makes themselves nor any one else happy.
Is there not some truth in Goethe’s
saying, though I do not altogether agree
with him, that “ every man ought to begin
with himself, and make his own happiness
first, from which the happiness of the
whole world would at last unquestionably
follow” ? This is perhaps too broadly
stated, and of course exceptions might be
pointed out : but assuredly if every one
would avoid excess, and take care of his
own health ; would keep himself strong
and cheerful; would make his home
1 Bacon.
2 G. Macdonald.
PART II
happy, and’give no cause for the petty
vexations which often embitter domestic
life ; would attend to his own affairs and
keep himself sober and solvent; would,
in the words of the Chinese proverb,
“sweep away the snow from before his
own door, and never mind the frost upon
his neighbour’s tiles”: even though it
were not from the nobler motives, still,
how well it would be for his family,
relations, and friends. But, unfortunately,
“ Look round the habitable world, how few
Know their own good, or, knowing it, pursue.”1
It would be a great thing if people
could be brought to realise that they can
never add to the sum of their happiness
by doing wrong. In the case of children,
indeed, we recognise this ; we perceive
that a spoilt child is not a happy one;
that it would have been far better for
him to have been punished at first and
thus saved from greater suffering in after
life.
The beautiful idea that every man has
with him a Guardian Angel is true in
deed : for Conscience is ever on the watch,
| ever ready to warn us of danger.
No doubt we often feel disposed to
complain, and yet it is most ungrateful:
‘‘ For who would lose,
Though full of pain, this intellectual being,
Those thoughts that wander through Eternity ;
To perish rather, swallowed up, and lost
In the wide womb of uncreated thought! ” 2
But perhaps it will be said that we are
sent here in preparation for another and
a better world. Well, then, why should
we complain of what is but a preparation
for future happiness ?
We ought to
“ Count each affliction, whether light or grave,
God’s messenger sent down to thee ; do thou
With courtesy receive him ; rise and bow ;
And, ere his shadow pass thy threshold, crave
Permission first his heavenly feet to lave ;
Then lay before him all thou hast; allow
No cloud of passion to usurp thy brow,
Or mar thy hospitality ; no wave
Of mortal tumult to obliterate
1 Dryden.
2 Milton.
�LABOUR AND REST
CHAP. X
and joy”; and if properly understood,
would enable us “ to acquiesce in the
present without repining, to remember
the past with thankfulness, and to meet
the future hopefully and cheerfully with
out fear or suspicion.”
The soul’s marmoreal calmness : Grief should
be
Like joy, majestic, equable, sedate ;
Confirming, cleansing, raising, making free ;
Strong to consume small troubles ; to commend
Great thoughts, grave thoughts, thoughts
lasting to the end.” 1
Some persons are like the waters of
Bethesda, and require to be troubled
before they can exercise their virtue.
“We shall get more contentedness,”
CHAPTER X
says Plutarch, “ from the presence of all
LABOUR AND REST
these blessings if we fancy them as absent,
and remember from time to time how
“ Through labour to rest, through combat to
people when ill yearn for health, and victory.”
Thomas a Kempis.
people in war for peace, and strangers
and unknown in a great city for reputa Among the troubles of life I do not, of
tion and friends, and how painful it is to course, reckon the necessity of labour.
Work indeed, and hard work too, if
be deprived of all these when one has
once had them. For then each of these only it be in moderation, is in itself a
blessings will not appear to us only great rich source of happiness. We all know
and valuable when it is lost, and of no how quickly time passes when we are
value when we have it. . . . And yet it well employed, while the moments hang
makes much for contentedness of mind to heavily on the hands of the idle. Occupa
look for the most part at home and to our tion drives away care and all the small
own condition ; or if not, to look at the troubles of life. The busy man has no
case of people worse off than ourselves, time to brood or to fret.
and not, as people do, to compare our
“ From toil he wins his spirits light,
selves with those who are better off. . . .
From busy day the peaceful night ;
But you will find others, Chians, or
Rich, from the very want of wealth,
Galatians, or Bithynians, not content
In Heaven’s best treasures, peace, and
health.” 1
with the share of glory or power they
have among their fellow-citizens, but
This applies especially to t^e labour of
weeping because they do not wear sena the field and the workshop. Humble it
tors’ shoes ; or, if they have them, that may be, but if it does not dazzle with the
they cannot be praetors at Rome; or if promise of fame, it gives the satisfaction
they get that office, that they are not of duty fulfilled, and the inestimable
consuls ; or if they are consuls, that they blessing of health. As Emerson reminds
are only proclaimed second and not first. those entering life, “ The angels that live
. . . Whenever, then, you admire any one with them, and are weaving laurels of life
carried by in his litter as a greater man for their youthful brows, are toil and truth
than yourself, lower your eyes and look and mutual faith.”
at those that bear the litter.” And again,
Labour was truly said by the ancients
“ I am very taken with Diogenes’ remark to be the price which the gods set upon
to a stranger at Lacedaemon, who was everything worth having. We all admit,
dressing with much display for a feast. though we often forget, the marvellous
‘ Does not a good man consider every day power of perseverance; and yet all Nature,
a feast ? ’ . . . Seeing then that life is down to Bruce’s spider, is continually
the most complete initiation into all these | impressing this lesson on us.
things, it ought to be full of ease of mind J Hard writing makes easy reading ;
1 Aubrey de Vere.
.
1 Gray.
�THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
9°
Plato is said to have rewritten the first
page of the Aepit&Zic thirteen times ; and
Carlo Maratti, we are told, made three
hundred sketches of the head of Antinous
before he brought it to his satisfaction.
It is better to wear out than to rust
out, and there is “ a dust which settles on
the heart, as well as that which rests upon
the ledge.”1
At the present time, though there may
be some special drawbacks, we come to
our work with many advantages which
were not enjoyed in olden times. We
live in much greater security ourselves,
and are less liable to have the fruits of
our labour torn violently from us.
But though labour is good for man,
it may be, and unfortunately often is,
carried to excess.
Many are wearily
asking themselves
“ All why
Should life all labour be ? ” 2
There is a time for all things, says
Solomon, a time to work and a time to
play : we shall work all the better for
reasonable change, and one reward of
work is to secure leisure.
It is a good saying that where there’s
a will there’s a way ; but while it is all
very well to wish, wishes must not take
the place of work.
In whatever sphere his duty lies, every
man must rely mainly on himself. Others
can help us, but we must make ourselves.
No one else can see for us. To profit by
our advantages we must learn to use for
ourselves
“The dark lantern of the spirit
Which none can see by, but he who bears it. ”
It is hardly an exaggeration to say that
honest work is never thrown away. If
we do not find the imaginary treasure, at
any rate we enrich the vineyard.
“Work,” says Nature to man, “in
every hour, paid or unpaid; see only
that thou work, and thou canst not
escape the reward : whether thy work be
fine or coarse, planting corn or writing
1 Jefferies.
2 Tennyson.
part II
epics, so only it be honest work, done to
thine own approbation, it shall earn a
reward to the senses as well as to the
thought: no matter how often defeated,
you are born to victory. The reward
of a thing well done is to have done
it.” 1
Nor can any work, however persever
ing, or any success, however great, exhaust
the prizes of life.
The most studious, the most successful,
must recognise that there yet remain
“ So much to do that is not e’en begun,
So much to hope for that we cannot see,
So much to win, so many things to be.”2
In olden times the difficulties of study
were far greater than they are now.
Books were expensive and cumbersome,
in many cases moreover chained to the
desks on which they were kept. The
greatest scholars have often been very
poor. Erasmus used to read by moonlight
because he could not afford a candle, and
“ begged a penny, not for the love of
charity, but for the love of learning.” 3
Want of time is no excuse for idleness.
“ Our life,” says Jeremy Taylor, “ is too
short to serve the ambition of a haughty
prince or a usurping rebel; too little
time to purchase great wealth, to satisfy
the pride of a vainglorious fool, to
trample upon all the enemies of our just
or unjust interest: but for the obtaining
virtue, for the purchase of sobriety and
modesty, for the actions of religion, God
gives us time sufficient, if we make the
outgoings of the morning and evening,
that is our infancy and old age, to be
taken into the computations of a man.”
Work is so much a necessity of exist
ence, that it is less a question whether,
than how, w’e shall work. An old saying
tells us that the Devil finds work for those
who do not make it for themselves and
there is a Turkish proverb that the Devil
tempts the busy man, but the idle man
tempts the Devil.
If we Englishmen have succeeded as a
2 W. Morris.
1 Emerson.
3 Coleridge.
�LABOUR AND REST
CHAP. X
race, it has been due in no small measure
to the fact that we have worked hard.
Not only so, but we have induced the
forces of Nature to work for us. “ Steam,”
says Emerson, “ is almost an Englishman.”
The power of work has especially
characterised our greatest men. Cecil
said of Sir W. Raleigh that he “ could
toil terribly.”
We are most of us proud of belonging
to the greatest Empire the world has ever
seen. It may be said of us with especial
truth in Wordsworth’s words that
“ The world is too much with us ; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.”
Yes, but what world ? The world will be
with us sure enough, and whether we
please or not. But what sort of world it
will be for us, will depend greatly on
ourselves.
We are told to pray not to be taken
out of the world, but to be kept from the
evil.
There are various ways of working.
Quickness may be good, but haste is bad.
“Wie das Gestirn
Ohne Hast
. Ohne Rast
Drehe sich Jeder
Um die eigne Last.”1
“Like a star, without haste, without rest,
let every one fulfil his own best.”
Lastly, work secures the rich reward of
rest ; we must rest to be able to work
well, and work to be able to enjoy rest.
“We must no doubt beware that our
rest become not the rest of stones, which
so long as they are torrent-tossed and
thunder-stricken maintain their majesty ;
but when the stream is silent, and the
storm past, suffer the grass to cover them,
and the lichen to feed on them, and are
ploughed down into the dust. . . . The
rest which is glorious is of the chamois
couched breathless in its granite bed, not
of the stalled ox over his fodder.” 2
When we have done our best we may
wait the result without anxiety.
“ What hinders a man, who has clearly
1 Goethe.
2 Ruskin.
9i
comprehended these things, from living
with a light heart and bearing easily the
reins ; quietly expecting everything which
can happen, and enduring that which has
already happened ? Would you have me
to bear poverty ? Come and you will
know what poverty is when it has found
one who can act well the part of a poor
man. Would you have me to possess
power1? Let me have power, and also
the trouble of it. Well, banishment ?
Wherever I shall go, there it will be well
with me.” 1
“We complain,” says Ruskin, “of the
want of many things—-we want votes, we
want liberty, we want amusement, we
want money. Which of us feels, or
knows, that he wants peace ?
“ There are two ways of getting it, if
you do want it. The first is wholly in
your own power; to make yourselves
nests of pleasant thoughts. . . . None of
us yet know, for none of us have yet been
taught in early youth, what fairy palaces
we may build of beautiful thought—proof
against all adversity. Bright fancies,
satisfied memories, noble histories, faith
ful sayings, treasure-houses of precious
and restful thoughts ; which care cannot
disturb, nor pain make gloomy, nor
poverty take away from us—houses built
without hands, for our souls to live in.”
The Buddhists believe in many forms
of future punishment; but the highest
reward of virtue is Nirvana—the final
and eternal rest.
Very touching is the appeal of Ashmanezer to be left in peace, which was
engraved on his Sarcophagus at Sidon.2
“ In the month of Bui, the fourteenth
year of my reign, I, King Ashmanezer,
King of the Sidonians, son of King
Tabuith, King of the Sidonians, spake,
saying : ‘ I have been stolen away before
my time—a son of the flood of days.
The whilom great is dumb ; the son of
gods is dead. And I rest in this grave,
even in this tomb, in the place which I
have built. My adjuration to all the
Ruling Powers and all men : Let no one
1 Epictetus.
2 Now in Paris.
�9*
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
open this resting-place, nor search for
treasure, for there is no treasure with us ;
and let him not bear away the couch of
my rest, and not trouble us in this
resting-place by disturbing the couch of
my slumbers. . . . For all men who
should open the tomb of my rest, or any
man who should carry away the couch of
my rest, or any one who trouble me on
this couch : unto them there shall be no
rest with the departed : they shall not be
buried in a grave, and there shall be to
them neither son nor seed. . . . There
shall be to them neither root below nor
fruit above, nor honour among the living
under the sun.’ ” 1
The idle man does not know what it is
to enjoy rest, for he has not earned it.
Hard work, moreover, tends not only to
give us rest for the body, but, what is
even more important, peace to the mind.
If we have done our best to do, and to
be, we can rest in peace.
“ En la sua voluntade e nostra pace.” 2
In His will is our peace ; and in such
peace the mind will find its truest delight,
for
“When, care sleeps, the soul wakes.”
In youth, as is right enough, the idea
of exertion, and of struggles, is inspiriting
and delightful; but as years advance the
hope and prospect of peace and of rest
gain ground gradually, and
“ When the last dawns are fallen on gray,
And all life’s toils and ease complete,
They know who work, not they who play
If rest is sweet.” 3
1 From Sir M. E. Grant Duff’s A Winter in
Syria.
2 Dante.
3 Symonds.
PART II
CHAPTER XT
RELIGION
“ And what doth the Lord require of thee,
but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk
humbly with thy God ? ”—Micah.
“Pure religion and undefiled before God and
the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and
widows in their affliction, and to keep himself
unspotted from the world.”—James i.
“The letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life.”
2 Corinthians.
It would be quite out of place here to
enter into any discussion of theological
problems or to advocate any particular
doctrines. Nevertheless I could not omit
what is to most so great a comfort and
support in sorrow and suffering, and a
source of the purest happiness.
We commonly, however, bring together
under the name of Religion two things
which are yet very different: the religion
of the heart, and that of the head. The
first deals with conduct, and the duties of
Man ; the second with the nature of the
supernatural and the future of the Soul,
being in fact a branch of knowledge.
Religion should be a strength, guide,
and comfort, not a source of intellectual
anxiety or angry argument. To persecute
for religion’s sake implies belief in a
jealous, cruel, and unjust Deity. If we
have done our best to arrive at the truth,
to torment oneself about the result is to
doubt the goodness of God, and, in the
words of Bacon, “ to bring down the Holy
Ghost, instead of the likeness of a dove,
in the shape of a raven.” “ The letter
killeth, but the spirit giveth life,” and it
is a primary duty to form the highest
possible conception of God.
Many, however, and especially many
women, render themselves miserable on
entering life by theological doubts and
difficulties. These have reference, in
ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, not
to what we should do, but to what we
should think. As regards action, con-
�RELIGION
CHAP. XI
science is generally a ready guide; to
follow it is the real difficulty. Theology,
on the other hand, is a most abstruse
science ; but as long as we honestly wish
to arrive at truth we need not fear that
we shall be punished for unintentional
error. “For what,” says Micah, “doth
the Lord require of thee, but to do justly,
to love mercy, and to walk humbly with
thy God.” There is very little theology
in the Sermon on the Mount, or indeed
in any part of the first three Gospels ; and
the differences which keep us apart have
their origin rather in the study than the
Church. Religion was intended to bring
peace on earth and goodwill towards men,
and whatever tends to hatred and perse
cution, however correct in the letter, must
be utterly wrong in the spirit.
How much misery would have been
saved to Europe if Christians had been
satisfied with the Sermon on the Mount!
Bokhara is said to have contained more
than three hundred colleges, all occupied
with theology, but ignorant of everything
else, and it was probably one of the most
bigoted and uncharitable cities in the world.
“ Knowledge puffeth up, but charity edifieth.”
We must not forget that
“ He prayeth best who lovetli best
All things both great and small.” 1
Theologians too often appear to agree that
“ The awful shadow of some unseen power
Floats, though unseen, among us ” ; 2
and in the days of the Inquisition many
must have sighed for the cheerful childlike
religion of the Greeks, if they could but
have had the Nymphs and Nereids, the
Fays and Faeries, with Destiny and Fate,
but without Jupiter and Mars.
Sects are the work of Sectarians. No
truly great religious teacher, as Carlyle
said, ever intended to found a new Sect.
Diversity of worship, says a Persian
proverb, “ has divided the human race
into seventy-two nations. From among
all their dogmas I have selected one—‘ Di
vine Love.’ ” And again, “ He needs no
1 Coleridge.
2 Shelley.
93
other rosary whose thread of life is struug
with the beads of love and thought.”
There is more true Christianity in some
pagan Philosophers than in certain Chris
tian theologians. Take, for instance,
Plato, Marcus Aurelius, Epictetus, and
Plutarch.
“ Now I, Callicles,” says Socrates, “ am
persuaded of the truth of these things,
and I consider how I shall present my
soul whole and undefiled before the judge
in that day. Renouncing the honours at
which the world aims, I desire only to
know the truth, and to live as well as I
can, and, when the time comes, to die.
And, to the utmost of my power, I exhort
all other men to do the same. And in
return for your exhortation of me, I
exhort you also to take part in the great
combat, which is the combat of life, and
greater than every other earthly conflict.”
“As to piety towards the Gods,” says
Epictetus, “you must know that this is
the chief thing, to have right opinions
about them, to think that they exist, and
that they administer the All well and
justly; and you must fix yourself in this
principle (duty), to obey them, and to
yield to them in everything which
happens, and voluntarily to follow it
as being accomplished by the wisest
intelligence.”
“ Do not act,” says Marcus Aurelius,
“ as if thou wert going to live ten
thousand years. Death hangs over thee.
While thou livest, while it is in thy
power, be good. . . .
“ Since it is possible that thou mayest
depart from life this very moment, regu
late every act and thought accordingly.
But to go away from among men, if there
be Gods, is not a thing to be afraid of,
for the Gods will not involve thee in
evil; but if indeed they do not exist, or
if they have no concern about human
affairs, what is it to me to live in a
universe devoid of Gods, or without a
Providence. But in truth they do exist,
and they do care for human things, and
they have put all the means in man’s
power to enable him not to fall into real
�94
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
evils. And as for the rest, if there was
anything evil, they would have provided
for this also, that it should be altogether
in a man’s power not to fall into it.”
And Plutarch : “ The Godhead is not
blessed by reason of his silver and gold,
nor yet Almighty through his thunder
and lightnings, but on account of know
ledge and intelligence.”
It is no doubt very difficult to arrive
at the exact teaching of Eastern Moralists,
but the same spirit runs through Oriental
Literature.
For instance, in the Toy
Cart of King Sudraka, the earliest
Sanskrit drama with which we are ac
quainted, when the wicked Prince tempts
Vita to murder the Heroine, and says
that no one would see him, Vita declares
“ All nature would behold the crime—
the Genii of the Grove, the Sun, the
Moon, the Winds, the Vault of Heaven,
the firm - set Earth, the mighty Yama
who judges the dead, and the conscious
Soul.”
There is indeed a tone of doubting sad
ness in Roman moralists, as in Hadrian’s
dying lines to his soul—
“Animula, vagula, blandula
Hospes, comesque corporis
Qua nunc abibis in loca :
Pallidula, rigida, nudula,
Nec, ut soles, dabis jocos.”
PART II
than to say that Plutarch is a man in
constant, fickle, easily moved to anger,
revengeful for trifling provocations, vexed
at small things.”
Many things have been mistaken for
religion ; selfishness especially, but also
fear, hope, love of music, of art, of pomp ;
scruples often take the place of love, and
the glory of heaven is sometimes made to
depend upon precious stones and jewellery.
Many, as has been well said, run after
Christ, not for the miracles, but for the
loaves.
In many cases religious differences are
mainly verbal. There is an Eastern tale
of four men, an Arab, a Persian, a Turk,
and a Greek, who agreed to club together
for an evening meal, but when they had
done so they quarrelled as to what it
should be. The Turk proposed Azum,
the Arab Aneb, the Persian Anghur,
while the Greek insisted on Staphylion.
While they were disputing
“ Before their eyes did pass
Laden with grapes, a gardener’s ass.
Sprang to his feet each man, and showed,
With eager hand, that purple load.
‘ See Azum,’ said the Turk ; and ‘ see
Anghur,’ the Persian ; 1 what should be
Better.’ ‘Nay Aneb, Aneb ’tis, ’
The Arab cried. The Greek said, 'This
Is my Staphylion.’ Then they bought
Their grapes in peace.
Hence be ye taught.” 1
The same spirit is expressed in the
It is said that on one occasion, when
epitaph on the tomb of the Duke of Dean Stanley had been explaining his
Buckingham in Westminster Abbey—
views to Lord Beaconsfield, the latter
replied, “ Ah 1 Mr. Dean, that is all very
“ Dubins non improbus vixi
Incertus morior, non perturbatus ;
well, but you must remember,—No dog
Humanum est nescire et errare,
mas, no Deans.” To lose such Deans as
Deo confido
Stanley would indeed be a great misfor
Omnipotent! benevolentissimo :
tune ; but does it follow ? Religions, far
Ens entium miserere mei.”
from being really built on Dogmas, are
Take even the most extreme type of too often weighed down and crushed by
difference. Is the man, says Plutarch, them. No one can doubt that Stanley
“ a criminal who holds there are no gods ; has done much to strengthen the Church
and is not he that holds them to be such of England.
as the superstitious believe them, is he
We may not always agree with Spinoza,
not possessed with notions infinitely more but is he not right when he says, “ The
atrocious 1 I for my part would much first precept of the divine law, therefore,
rather have men say of me that there indeed its sum and substance, is to love
never was a Plutarch at all, nor is now,
1 Arnold. Pearls of the Faith.
�RELIGION
CHAP. XI
God unconditionally as the supreme good
—unconditionally, I say, and not from
any love or fear of aught besides ” ? And
again, that the very essence of religion is
belief in “ a Supreme Being who delights
in justice and mercy, whom all who would
be saved are bound to obey, and whose
worship consists in the practice of justice
and charity towards our neighbours ” ?
“ Theology,” says the Master of Balliol,
“is full of undefined terms which have
distracted the human mind for ages.
Mankind have reasoned from them, but
not to them; they have drawn out the
conclusions without proving the premises ;
they have asserted the premises without
examining the terms. The passions of
religious parties have been roused to the
utmost about words of which they could
have given no explanation, and which
had really no distinct meaning.” 1
Doubt is of two natures, and we often
confuse a wise suspension of judgment
with the weakness of hesitation. To pro
fess an opinion for which we have no
sufficient reason is clearly illogical, but
when it is necessary to act we must do so
on the best evidence available, however
slight that may be.
Why should we expect Religion to
solve questions with reference to the origin
and destiny of the universe ? We do not
expect the most elaborate treatise to tell
us as yet the origin of electricity or of
heat. Natural History throws no light
on the origin of life. Has Biology ever
professed to explain existence ?
Simonides was asked at Syracuse by
Hiero, who or what God was, when he
requested a day’s time to think of his
answer. On subsequent days he always
doubled the period required for deliber
ation ; and when Hiero inquired the reason,
he replied that the longer he considered
the subject, the more obscure it appeared.
The Vedas say, “In the midst of the
sun is the light, in the midst of light is
truth, and in the midst of truth is the
imperishable being.” Deity has been
defined as a circle whose centre is every1 Jowett’s Plato,
95
where, and whose circumference is no
where ; but the “ God is love ” of St.
John appeals more forcibly to the human
soul.
“ Love suffereth long, and is kind ;
Love envieth not;
Love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,
Doth not behave itself unseemly,
Seeketh not her own,
Is not easily provoked,
Thinketh no evil;
Rejoieeth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the
truth ;
Beareth all things, believeth all things,
Hopeth all things, endureth all things.
Love never faileth ; but whether there be pro
phecies, they shall fail : whether there be tongues,
they shall cease ; whether there be knowledge,
it shall vanish away. ... Now abideth Faith,
Hope, Love, these three ; but the greatest of
these is Love.” 1
The Church is not a place for study or
speculation. Few but can sympathise
with Eugenie de Guerin in her tender
affection for the little Chapel at Cahuzac,
where she tells us she freed herself from
“ tant de miseres.”
Doubt does not exclude faith.
“ Perplext in faith, but pure in deeds,
At last he beat his music out.
There lives more faith in honest doubt,
Believe me, than in half the creeds.” 2
Unfortunately many have attempted
to compound for wickedness of life by
purity of belief; a vain and fruitless
effort. To do right is the sure ladder
which leads up to Heaven, though the
true faith will help us to find and to
climb it.
“ It was my duty to have loved the highest,
It surely was my profit had I known,
It would have been my pleasure had I seen.” 3
But though religious truth can justify no
bitterness, it is well worth any amount of
thought and study.
If we must admit that many points are
still, and probably long will be, involved
in obscurity, we may be pardoned if we
indulge ourselves in various speculations
both as to our beginning and our end.
1 St. Paul,
2 Tennyson.
3 Ibid.
�&
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
‘ ‘ Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar :
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home.” 1
I hope I shall not be supposed to
depreciate any honest effort to arrive at
truth, or to undervalue the devotion of
those who have died for their religion.
But surely it is a mistake to regard
martyrdom as a merit, when from their
own point of view it was in reality a
privilege.
Let every man be persuaded in his own
mind
“Truth is the highest thing that man may
keep.” 2
It is impossible to overvalue the power
“ which the soul has of loving truth and
doing all things for the sake of truth. ” 3
To arrive at truth we should spare our
selves no pains, but certainly inflict none
on others.
We may be sure that quarrels will
never advance religion, and that to per
secute is no way to convert. No doubt
those who consider that all who do not
agree with them will suffer eternal tor
ments, seem logically justified in persecu
tion even unto death. Such a course, if
carried out consistently, might stamp out
a particular sect, and any sufferings which
could be inflicted here would on this
hypothesis be as nothing in comparison
with the pains of Hell. Only it must be
admitted that such a view of religion is
quite irreconcilable with the teaching of
Christ, and incompatible with any faith
in the goodness of God.
Moreover, the Inquisition has even
from its own point of view proved gener
ally a failure. The blood of the martyrs
is the seed of the Church.
“ In obedience to the order of the
Council of Constance (1415) the remains
of Wickliffe were exhumed and burnt to
1 Wordsworth.
2 Chaucer.
3 Plato.
TART II
ashes, and these cast into the Swift, a
neighbouring brook running hard by, and
thus this brook hath conveyed his ashes
into Avon ; Avon into Severn ; Severn
into the narrow seas ; they into the main
ocean. And thus the ashes of Wickliffe
are the emblem of his doctrine, which
now is dispersed all the world over?’1
The Talmud says that when a man
once asked Shamai to teach him the Law
in one lesson, Shamai drove him away in
anger. He then went to Hillel with the
same request. Hillel said, “Do unto
others as you would have others do unto
you. This is the whole Law ; the rest,
merely Commentaries upon it.”
Collect from the Bible all that Christ
thought necessary for His disciples, and
how little Dogma there is. Christianity
is based, not on Dogma, but on Charity
and Love.
“ By this shall all men
know that ye are my disciples, if ye have
love one to another.” “ Suffer little
children to come unto me.” And one
lesson which little children have to teach
us is that religion is an affair of the heart
and not of the mind only. St. James
sums up as the teaching of Christ that
“Pure religion and undefiled is this, to
visit the fatherless and widows in their
affliction, and to keep himself unspotted
from the world.”
The Religion of the lower races is
almost as a rule one of terror and of
dread. Their deities are jealous and
revengeful, cruel, merciless, and selfish,
hateful and yet childish. They require
to be propitiated by feasts and offerings,
often even by human sacrifices. They are
not only exacting, but so capricious that,
with the best intentions, it is often
impossible to be sure of pleasing them.
From the dread of such evil beings
Sorcerers and Witches derived their
hellish powers. No one was safe. No
one knew where danger lurked. Actions
apparently the most trifling might be
fraught with serious risk : objects ap
parently the most innocent might be fatal.
In many cases there were supposed to
1 Fuller.
�RELIGION
CHAP. XI
97
be deities of Crime, of Misfortunes, of we were to show them a near, visible,
Disease. These wicked Spirits naturally inevitable, but all-beneficent Deity, whose
encouraged evil rather than good. An presence makes the earth itself a heaven,
energetic friend of mine was sent to a I think there would be fewer deaf children
district in India where smallpox was sitting in the market-place.”
specially prevalent, and where one of the
But it must not be supposed that those
principal Temples was dedicated to the who doubt whether the ultimate truths of
Goddess of that disease. He had the the Universe can be expressed in human
people vaccinated, in spite of some opposi , words, or whether, even if they could,
tion, and the disease disappeared, much we should be able to comprehend them,
to the astonishment of the natives. But undervalue the importance of religious
the priests of the Deity of Smallpox were ' study. Quite the contrary. Their doubts
not disconcerted ; only they deposed the , arise not from pride, but from humility :
Image of their discomfited Goddess, and ! not because they do not appreciate divine
petitioned my friend for some emblem of . truth, but on the contrary because they
himself which they might install in her doubt whether we can appreciate it
stead.
' sufficiently, and are sceptical whether the
We who are fortunate enough to live (infinite can be reduced to the finite.
in this comparatively enlightened century
We may be sure that whatever may be
hardly realise how our ancestors suffered ■ right about religion, to quarrel over it
from their belief in the existence of must be wrong. “ Let others wrangle,”
mysterious and malevolent beings; how said St. Augustine, “I will wonder.”
their life was embittered and overshadowed
Those who suspend their judgment are
by these awful apprehensions.
not on that account sceptics, and it is
As men, however, have risen in civilisa often those who think they know most,
tion, their religion has risen with them; who are especially troubled by doubts
they have by degrees acquired higher and anxiety.
and purer conceptions of divine power.
It was Wordsworth who wrote
We are only just beginning to realise
“ Great God, I had rather
that a loving and merciful Father would A Pagan suckled in some ereed outworn ;he
not resent honest error, not even perhaps So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
the attribution to him of such odious Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn.”
injustice. Yet what can be clearer than
In religion, as with children at night, it
Christ’s teaching on this point.
He
is darkness and ignorance which create
impressed over and over again on his
disciples, that, as St. Paul expresses it, dread ; light and love cast out fear.
In looking forward to the future we
“ The letter killeth, but the spirit giveth
may fairly hope with Ruskin that “the
life.”1
“If,” says Ruskin, “for every rebuke charities of more and more widely ex
that we utter of men’s vices, we put forth tended peace are preparing the way for
a claim upon their hearts; if, for every a Christian Church which shall depend
assertion of God’s demands from them, neither on ignorance for its continuance,
we should substitute a display of His nor on controversy for its progress, but
kindness to them; if side by side, with shall reign at once in light and love.”
every warning of death, we could exhibit
proofs and promises of immortality ; if,
in fine, instead of assuming the being of
an awful Deity, which men, though they
cannot and dare not deny, are always
unwilling, sometimes unable, to conceive :
1 2 Cor. in. 6.
H
�THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
PART II
because they fancied that pain was ordained
under certain circumstances.
CHAPTER XII
We are told that in early Saxon days
Edwin, King of Northumbria, called his
THE HOPE OF PROGRESS
nobles and his priests around him, to dis
cuss whether a certain missionary should
“ To what then may we not look forward, when
a spirit of scientific inquiry shall have spread be heard or not. The result was doubtful.
through those vast regions in which the progress But at last there rose an old chief, and said
of civilisation, its sure precursor, is actually —“You know, 0 King, how, on a winter
commenced and in active progress ? And what evening, when you are sitting at supper
may we not expect from the exertions of powerful
minds called into action under circumstances in your hall, with your company around
totally different from any which have yet existed you, when the night is dark and dreary,
in the world, and over an extent of territory far when the rain and the snow rage outside,
surpassing that which has hitherto produced the when the hall inside is lighted and warm
whole harvest of human intellect ?”
with a blazing fire, sometimes it happens
Herschel,
that a sparrow flies into the bright hall
There are two lines, if not more, in out of the dark night, flies through the
which we may look forward with hope to hall and then out at the other end
progress in the future. In the first place, into the dark night again. We see him
increased knowledge of nature, of the for a few moments, but we know not
properties of matter, and of the pheno whence he came nor whither he goes in
mena which surround us, may afford to the blackness of the storm outside. So is
our children advantages far greater even the life of man. It appears for a short
than those which we ourselves enjoy. space in the warmth and brightness of
Secondly, the extension and improvement this life, but what came before this life,
of education, the increasing influence of or what is to follow this life, we know not.
Science and Art, of Poetry and Music, If, therefore, these new teachers can en
of Literature and Religion,—of all the lighten us as to the darkness that went
powers which are tending to good, will, we before, and the darkness that is to come
may reasonably hope, raise man and make after, let us hear what they have to teach
him more master of himself, more able us.”
It is often said, however, that great
to appreciate and enjoy his advantages,
and to realise the truth of the Italian and unexpected as recent discoveries
proverb, that wherever light is, there is have been, there are certain ultimate
problems which must ever remain un
joy.
One consideration which has greatly solved. For my part, I would prefer to
tended to retard progress has been the abstain from laying down any such limita
floating idea that there was some sort of tions. When Park asked the Arabs what
ingratitude, and even impiety, in attempt became of the sun at night, and whether
ing to improve on what Divine Providence the sun was always the same, or new each
had arranged for us. Thus Prometheus day, they replied that such a question was
was said to have incurred the wrath of foolish, being entirely beyond the reach
Jove for bestowing on mortals the use of of human investigation.
M. Comte, in his Cours de Philosophic
fire ; and other discoveries only escaped
similar punishment when the ingenuity of Positive, as recently as 1842, laid it down
priests attributed them to the special as an axiom regarding the heavenly bodies,
favour of some particular deity. This that’“we may hope to determine their
feeling has not even yet quite died out. forms, distances, magnitude, and move
Even I can remember tlie time when ments, but we shall never by any means be
many excellent persons had a scruple or able to study their chemical composition
prejudice against the use of chloroform, or mineralogical structure.” Yet within a
�CHAP. XII
THE HOPE OF PROGRESS
few years this supposed impossibility has
been actually accomplished, showing how
unsafe it is to limit the possibilities of
science.1
It is, indeed, as true now as in the time
of Newton, that the great ocean of truth
lies undiscovered before us. I often wish
that some President of the Royal Society,
or of the British Association, would take
for the theme of his annual address “ The
things we do not know.” Who can say
on the verge of what discoveries we are
perhaps even now standing ! It is extra
ordinary how slight a barrier may stand
for years between Man and some import
ant improvement. Take the case of the
electric light, for instance. It had been
known for years that if a carbon rod be
placed in an exhausted glass receiver, and
a current of electricity be passed through
it, the carbon glowed with an intense
light, but on the other hand it became so
hot that the glass burst. The light, there
fore, was useless, because the lamp burst
as soon as it was lit. Edison hit on
the idea that if you made the carbon
filament fine enough, you would get rid
of the heat and yet have abundance
of light.
His right to a patent has
been contested on this very ground. It
has been said that the mere introduction
of so small a difference as the replacement
of a thin rod by a fine filament was so
slight a change thaf it could not be
patented. The improvements by LaneFox, Swan, and others, though so import
ant as a whole, have been made step by
step.
Or take again the discovery of anaes
thetics. At the beginning of the century
Sir Humphry Davy discovered laughing
gas, as it was then called. He found that
it produced complete insensibility to pain
and yet did not injure health. A tooth
was actually taken out under its influence,
and of course without suffering. These
facts were known to our chemists, they
were explained to the students in our
jreat hospitals, and yet for half a century
1 Lubbock.
Fifty Years of Science.
99
the obvious application occurred to no
one. Operations continued to be per
formed as before, patients suffered the
same horrible tortures, and yet the bene
ficent element was in our hands, its divine
properties were known, but it never oc
curred to any one to make use of it.
I will only give one more illustration.
Printing is generally said to have been
discovered in the fifteenth century ; and
so it was for all practical purposes. But
in fact printing was known long before.
The Romans used stamps; on the monu
ments of the Assyrian kings the name of
the reigning monarch may be found duly
printed. What then is the difference ?
One little, but all-important step. The
real inventor of printing was the man
into whose mind flashed the fruitful
idea of having separate stamps for each
letter, instead of for separate words.
How slight seems the difference, and
yet for 3000 years the thought occurred
to no one. Who can tell what other
discoveries, as simple and yet as farreaching, lie at this moment under our
very eyes !
Archimedes said that if he had room
to stand on, he would move the earth.
One truth leads to another; each dis
covery renders possible another, and,
what is more, a higher.
We are but beginning to realise the
marvellous range and complexity of Na
ture. I have elsewhere called attention
to this with special reference to the prob
lematical organs of sense possessed by
many animals.1
There is every reason .to hope that
future studies will throw much light on
these interesting structures. We may,
no doubt, expect much from the improve
ment in our microscopes, the use of new
reagents, and of mechanical appliances ;
but the ultimate atoms of which matter is
composed are so infinitesimally minute,
that it is as yet difficult to foresee any
manner in which we may hope for a final
solution of these problems.
1 The Senses of A nimals.
�ICO
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
Loschmidt, who has since been con
firmed by Stoney and Sir W. Thomson,
calculates that each of the ultimate atoms
of matter is at most •y0';b 00,000 °f an
inch in diameter. Under these circum
stances we cannot, it would seem, hope
at present for any great increase of our
knowledge of atoms by improvements in
the microscope. With our present in
struments we can perceive lines ruled on
glass which are 90,000' °f an inch apart ;
but owing to the properties of light itself,
it would appear that we cannot hope to
be able to perceive objects which are
much less than y 0 q*0 0 0 °f an inch in
diameter.
Our microscopes may, no
doubt, be improved, but the limitation
lies not merely in the imperfection of
our optical appliances, but in the nature
of light itself.
Now it has been calculated that a
particle of albumen son) 00
an inch
in diameter contains no less than
125,000,000 of molecules. In a simpler
compound the number would be much
greater ; in water, for instance, no less
than 8,000,000,000. Even then, if wre
could construct microscopes far more
powerful than any which we now possess,
they could not enable us to obtain by
direct vision any idea of the ultimate
organisation of matter. The smallest
sphere of organic matter which could be
clearly defined with our most powerful
microscopes may be, and in all proba
bility is, very complex ; it is built up of
many millions of molecules, and it follows
that there may be an almost infinite
number of structural characters in organic
tissues which we can at present foresee
no mode of examining.1
Again, it has been shown that animals
hear sounds which are beyond the range
of our hearing, and I have proved that
they can perceive the ultra-violet rays,
which are invisible to our eyes.2
Now, as every ray of homogeneous
1 Lubbock. Fifty Years of Science.
2 Ants, Bees, and Wasps.
PART II
light which we can perceive at all, appears
to us as a distinct color, it becomes
probable that these ultra-violet rays must
make themselves apparent to animals as
a distinct and separate color (of which we
can form no idea), but as different from
the rest as red is from yellow, or green
from violet. The question also arises
whether white light to these creatures
would differ from our white light in con
taining this additional color.
These considerations cannot but raise
the reflection how different the world
may—I was going to say must—appear
to other animals from what it does to us.
Sound is the sensation produced on us
when the vibrations of the air strike on
the drum of our ear. When they are
few, the sound is deep; as they increase
in number, it becomes shriller and shriller ;
but before they reach 40,000 in a second,
they cease to be audible. Light is the
effect produced on us when waves of
light strike on the eye. When 400
millions of millions of vibrations of ether
strike the retina in a second, they give
the sensation of red, and as the number
increases the color passes into orange,
then yellow, green, blue, and violet. But
between 40,000 vibrations in a second
and 400 millions of millions we have no
organ of sense capable of receiving an
impression.
Yet between these limits
any number of sensations may exist. We
have five senses, and sometimes fancy
that no others are possible. But it is
obvious that we cannot measure the in
finite by our own narrow limitations.
Moreover, looking at the question from
the other side, we find in animals complex
organs of sense, richly supplied with
nerves, but the function of which we are
as yet powerless to explain. There may
be fifty other senses as different from ours
as sound is from sight; and even within
the boundaries of our own senses there
may be endless sounds which we cannot
hear, and colors, as different as red from
green, of which we have no conception.
These and a thousand other questions
remain for solution. The familiar world
�CHAP. XII
THE HOPE OF PROGRESS
which surrounds us may be a totally
different place to other animals. To them
it may be full of music which we cannot
hear, of color which we cannot see, of
sensations which we cannot conceive. To
place stuffed birds and beasts in glass
cases, to arrange insects in cabinets, and
dried plants in drawers, is merely the
drudgery and preliminary of study ; to
watch their habits, to understand their
relations to one another, to study their
instincts and intelligence, to ascertain
their adaptations and their relations to
the forces of Nature, to realise what the
world appears to them ; these constitute,
as it seems to me at least, the true interest
of natural history, and may even give us
the clue to senses and perceptions of which
at present we have no conception.1
From this point of view the possi
bilities of progress seem to me to be
almost unlimited.
So far again as the actual condition of
man is concerned, the fact that there has
been some advance cannot, I think, be
questioned.
In the Middle Ages, for instance,
culture and refinement scarcely existed
beyond the limits of courts, and by no
means always there. The life in English,
French, and German castles was rough
and almost barbarous. Mr. Galton has
expressed the opinion, which I am not
prepared to question, that the population
of Athens, taken as a whole, was as
superior to us as we are to Australian
savages. But even if that be so, our
civilisation, such as it is, is more diffused,
so that unquestionably the general Euro
pean level is much higher.
Much, no doubt, is owing to the greater
facility of access to the literature of our
country, to that literature, in the words
of Macaulay, “ the brightest, the purest,
the most durable of all the glories of our
country ; to that Literature, so rich in
precious truth and precious fiction; to
that Literature which boasts of the prince
of all poets, and of the prince of all
1 Lubbock.
The, Senses of Animals.
IOI
philosophers; to that Literature which
has exercised an influence wider than
that of our commerce, and mightier than
that of our arms.”
Few of us, however, make the most of
our minds. The body ceases to grow in
a few years ; but the mind, if we will let
it, may grow almost as long as life lasts.
The onward progress of the future will
not, we may be sure, be confined to mere
material discoveries. We feel that we
are on the road to higher mental powers ;
that problems which now seem to us
beyond the range of human thought will
receive their solution, and open the way
to still further advance. Progress, more
over, wre may hope, will be not merely
material, not merely mental, but moral
also.
It is natural that we should feel a
pride in the beauty of England, in the
size of our cities, the magnitude of our
commerce, the wealth of our country, the
vastness of our Empire. But the true
glory of a nation does not consist in the
extent of its dominion, in the fertility of
the soil, or the beauty of Nature, but
rather in the moral and intellectual pre
eminence of the people.
And yet how few of us, rich or poor,
have made ourselves all we might be. If
he does his best, as Shakespeare says,
“ What a piece of work is man ! How
noble in reason ! How infinite in faculty !
in form and movement, how express and
admirable ! ” Few indeed, as yet, can be
said to reach this high ideal.
The Hindoos have a theory that after
death animals live again in a different
form ; those that have done well in a
higher, those that have done ill in a lower
grade. To realise this is, they find, a
powerful incentive to a virtuous life.
But whether it be true of a future life or
not, it is certainly true of our present
existence. If we do our best for a day,
the next morning we shall rise to a higher
life ; while if we give way to our passions
and temptations, we take with equal
certainty a step downwards towards a
lower nature.
�y -y. #;■ '
u? UV ' “■ ■
ZAL? PLEASURES OF LIFE
102
It is an. interesting illustration, of the
Unity of Man, and an encouragement to
those of us who have no claims to genius,
that, though of course there have been
exceptions, still on the whole, periods of
progress have generally been those when
a nation has worked and felt together ;
the advance has been due not entirely to
the efforts of a few great men, but of their
countrymen generally; not to a single
genius, but to a national effort.
Think, indeed, what might be.
“All ! when shall all men’s good
Be each man’s rule, and universal Peace
Lie like a shaft of light across the land,
And like a lane of beams athwart the sea,
Thro’ all the circle of the golden year ? ”1
Our life is surrounded with mystery,
our very world is a speck in boundless
space ; and not only the period of our
own individual life, but that of the whole
human race is, as it were, but a moment
in the eternity of time.
We cannot
imagine any origin, nor foresee the con
clusion.
But though we may not as yet perceive
any line of research which can give us a
clue to the solution, in another sense we
may hold that every addition to our
knowledge is one small step towards the
great revelation.
Progress may be more slow, or more
rapid. It may come to others and not to
us. It will not come to us if we do not
strive to deserve it. But come it surely
will.
“ Yet one thing is there that ye shall not slay,
Even thought, that fire nor iron can affright?’2
The future of man is full of hope, and I
who can foresee the limits of his destiny ?'
1 Tennyson.
2 Swinburne.
PART II
CHAPTER XIII
THE DESTINY OF MAN
“For I reckon that the sufferings of this
present time are not worthy to be compared
with the glory which shall be revealed in us.”—
Romans viii. 18.
But though we have thus a sure and
certain hope of progress for the race, still,
as far as man is individually concerned,
with advancing years we gradually care
less and less for many things which gave
us the keenest pleasure in youth. On the
other hand, if our time has been well
used, if we have warmed both hands
wisely before the fire of life, we may gain
even more than we lose. As our strength
becomes less, we feel also the less necessity
for exertion. Hope is gradually replaced
by memory : and whether this adds to
our happiness or not depends on what our
life has been.
There are of course some lives which
diminish in value as old age advances ; in
which one pleasure fades after another,
and even those which remain gradually
lose their zest; but there are others which
gain in richness and in peace all, and
more than, that of which time robs them.
The pleasures of youth may excel in
keenness and in zest, but they have at the
best a tinge of anxiety and unrest ; they
cannot have the fulness and depth which
may accompany the consolations of age,
and are amongst the richest rewards of
an unselfish life.
For as with the close of the day, so
with that of life ; there may be clouds,
and yet if the horizon is clear, the evening
may be beautiful.
Old age has a rich store of memories.
Life is full of
“Joys too exquisite to last,
And yet more exquisite when past.” 1
Swedenborg imagines that in heaven
the angels are advancing continually to
1 Montgomery.
�CHAP. XIII
THE DESTINY OF MAN
103
Is it not extraordinary that many men
will deliberately take a road which they
, know is, to say the least, not that of
happiness ? That they prefer to make
others miserable, rather than themselves
happy ?
Plato, in the Phsedrus, explains this
by describing Man as a Composite Being,
“ Age cannot wither nor custom stale
Their infinite variety.”
having three natures, and compares him
“ When I consider old age,” says Cicero, to a pair of winged horses and a charioteer.
“I find four causes why it is thought “ Of the two horses one is noble and of
miserable : one, that it calls us away from noble origin, the other ignoble and of
the transaction of, affairs ; the second, ignoble origin ; and the driving, as might
that it renders the body more feeble ; the be expected, is no easy matter.” The
third, that it deprives us of almost all noble steed endeavours to raise the
passions j the fourth, that it is not very chariot, but the ignoble one struggles to
far from death. Of these causes let us drag it down. As time goes on, if the
see, if you please, how great and how charioteer be wise and firm, the noble
part of our nature will raise us more
reasonable each of them is.”
To be released from the absorbing and more.
“Man,” says Shelley, “is an instru
affairs of life, to feel that one has earned
a claim to leisure and repose, is surely in ment over which a series of external and
internal impressions are driven, like the
itself no evil.
To the second complaint against old alternations of an ever-changing wind
age, I have already referred in speaking over an JEolian lyre, which move it by
their motion to ever-changing melody.”
of Health.
The third is that it has no passions.
Lastly, Cicero mentions the approach
“ 0 noble privilege of age I if indeed it of death as the fourth drawback of old
takes from us that which is in youth our age. To many minds the shadow of the
greatest defect.” But our higher aspira end is ever present, like the coffin in the
tions are not necessarily weakened ; or Egyptian feast, and overclouds all the
rather, they may become all the brighter, sunshine of life.
being purified from the grosser elements
But ought we to regard death as an
of our lower nature.
evil ? Shelley’s beautiful lines,
“Single,” says Manu, “is each man
born into the world; single he dies j
“ Life, like a Dome of many-coloured glass,
Stains the white radiance of Eternity ;
single he receives the reward of his good
Until death tramples it to fragments,”
deeds ; and single the punishment of his
sins. When he dies his body lies like a
fallen tree upon the earth, but his virtue contain, as it seems to me at least, a
accompanies his soul. Wherefore let Man double error. Life need not stain the
harvest and garner Virtue, that so he white radiance of eternity ; nor does
may have an inseparable companion in death necessarily trample it to fragments.
Man has, says Coleridge,
that gloom which all must pass through,
and which it is so hard to traverse.”
“Three treasures,—love and light
Then, indeed, it might be said that
And calm thoughts, regular as infants’ breath ;
“ Man is the sun of the world ; more And three firm friends, more sure than day and
than the real sun. The fire of his
night,
wonderful heart is the only light and Himself, his Maker, and the Angel Death.’
heat worth gauge or measure.” 1
Death is “the end of all, the remedy
1 Emerson.
the spring-time of their youth, so that
those who have lived longest are really
the youngest; and have we not all had
friends who seem to fulfil this idea ? who
are in reality—that is in mind—as fresh
as a child : of whom it may be said with
more truth than of Cleopatra that
�THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
104
of many, the wish of divers men, deserv
ing better of no men than of those to
whom she came before she was called.” 1
After a stormy life, with death comes
peace.
‘ ‘ Duncan is in his grave ;
After life’s fitful fever he sleeps well;
Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison,
Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing,
Can touch him further.”'2
If death be final, then no one will
ever know that he is dead.
It is often, however, assumed that the
journey to
‘ ‘ The undiscovered country from whose bourne
No traveller returns ”
must be one of pain and suffering. But
this is not so. Death is often peaceful
and almost painless.
Bede during his last illness was trans
lating St. John’s Gospel into AngloSaxon, and the morning of his death his
secretary, observing his weakness, said,
“ There remains now only one chapter,
and it seems difficult to you to speak.”
“It is easy,” said Bede ; “take your pen
and write as fast as you can.” At the
close of the chapter the scribe said, “ It
is finished,” to which he replied, “ Thou
hast said the truth, consummatum est.”
He asked to be placed opposite to the
place where he usually prayed, said
“Glory be to the Father, and to the
Son, and to the Holy Ghost,” and as he
pronounced the last word he expired.
Goethe died without any apparent
suffering, having just prepared himself
to write, and expressed his delight at
the return of spring.
We are told of Mozart’s death that
“ the unfinished requiem lay upon the
bed, and his last efforts were to imitate
some peculiar instrumental effects, as he
breathed out his life in the arms of his
Wife and their friend Sussmaier.”
Plato died in the act of writing;
Lucan while reciting part of his book on
the war of Pharsalus ; Blake died sing
1 Seneca.
Shakespeare.
PART II
ing ; Wagner in sleep with his head on
his wife’s shoulder. Many have passed
away in their sleep. Various high
medical authorities have expressed their
surprise that the dying seldom feel either
dismay or regret. And even those who
perish by violence, as for instance in
battle, feel, it is probable, but little
suffering.
But what of the future 1 There may
be said to be now two principal views.
Some believe in the immortality of the
soul, but not of the individual soul: that
our life is continued in that of our
children would seem indeed to be the
natural deduction from the simile of St.
Paul, as that of the grain of wheat is
carried on in the plant of the following
year.
So long as happiness exists, it is selfish
to dwell too much on our own share in
it. Admit that the soul is immortal, but
that in the future state of existence there
is a break in the continuity of memory,
that one does not remember the present
life ; will it in that case matter to us
more what happens to the soul inhabiting
our body, than what happens to any
other soul ? And from this point of
view is not the importance of identity
involved in that of continuous memory ?
But however this may be, according to
the general view, the soul, though de
tached from the body, will retain its
conscious identity, and will awake from
death, as it does from sleep ; so that if
we cannot affirm that
“ Millions of spiritual creatures walk the Earth,
Unseen, both when we wake, and when we
sleep,” 1
at any rate they exist somewhere else in
space, and we are indeed looking at them
when we gaze at the stars, though to our
eyes they are as yet invisible.
In neither case, however, can death be
regarded as an evil. To wish that health
and strength were unaffected by time
might be a different matter.
1 Milton.
�THE DESTINY OF MAN
CHAP. XIII
“But if we are not destined to be
immortal, yet it is a desirable thing for a
man to expire at his fit time. For, as
nature prescribes a boundary to all other
things, so does she also to life. Now old
age is the consummation of life, just as of
a play : from the fatigue of which we
ought to escape, especially when satiety is
superadded.” 1
From this point of view, then, we need
“ Weep not for death,
’Tis but a fever stilled,
A pain suppressed,—a fear at rest,
A solemn hope fulfilled.
The moonshine on the slumbering deep
Is scarcely calmer. Wherefore weep ?
105
“ We are such stuff
As dreams are made of, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.” 1
According to the more general view
death frees the soul from the encumbrance
of the body, and summons us to the seat
of judgment. In fact,
“ There is no Death ! What seems so is transi
tion ;
This life of mortal breath
Is but a suburb of that life elysian,
Whose portal we call Death.” 2
We have bodies, we are spirits. “ I am
a soul,” said Epictetus, “ dragging about
a corpse.” The body is the mere perish
able form of the immortal essence. Plato
“ Weep not for death !
! concluded that if the ways of God are to
The fount of tears is sealed,
be justified, there must be a future life.
Who knows how bright the inward light
To those closed eyes revealed ?
To the aged in either case death is a
Who knows what holy love may fill
release. The Bible dwells most forcibly
The heart that seems so cold and still.”
on the blessing of peace. “ My peace I
Many a weary soul will have recurred give unto you : not as the ■world giveth,
give I unto you.” Heaven is described
with comfort to the thought that
I as a place where the wicked cease from
“ A few more years shall roll,
| troubling, and the weary are at rest.
A few more seasons come,
But I suppose every one must have
And we shall be with those that rest
asked himself in what can the pleasures
Asleep within the tomb.
of heaven consist.
“ A few more struggles here.
A few more partings o’er,
A few more toils, a few more tears,
And we shall weep no more.”
“ For all we know
Of what the blessed do above
Is that they sing, and that they love.” 3
By no one has this, however, been
It would indeed accord with few men’s
more grandly expressed than by Shelley. ideal that there should be any “struggle
for existence ” in heaven. We should then
“ Peace, peace ! he is not dead, he doth not be little better off than we are now. This
sleep 1
world is very beautiful, if we would only
He hath awakened from the dream of life.
enjoy it in peace. And yet mere passive
’Tis we who, lost in stormy visions, keep
With phantoms an unprofitable strife,
existence—mere vegetation—would in
He has outsoared the shadows of our night.
itself offer few attractions.
It would
Envy and calumny, and hate and pain,
indeed be almost intolerable.
And that unrest which men miscall delight,
Again, the anxiety of change seems
Can touch him not and torture not again.
From the contagion of the world’s slow stain inconsistent with .perfect happiness ; and
He is secure, and now can never mourn
I yet a wearisome, interminable monotony,
A heart grown cold, a head grown gray, in
1 the same thing over and over again for
vain—”
ever and ever without relief or variety,
Most men, however, decline to believe I suggests dulness rather than delight.
that
1 Cicero.
1 Shakespeare.
2 Longfellow.
3 Waller.
�106
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
PART II
“For still the doubt came back,—Can God misconceiving us, or being harassed by us :
provide
—of glorious work to do, and adequate
For the large heart of man what shall not
faculties to do it—-a world of solved
pall,
problems, as well as of realised ideals.”
Nor through eternal ages’ endless tide
On tired spirits fall ?
| Cicero surely did not exaggerate when
he said, “ 0 glorious day ! when I shall
depart to that divine company and assem
blage of spirits, and quit this troubled and
polluted scene. For I shall go not only
to those great men of whom I have spoken
“ What shall the eyes that wait for him survey
When his own presence gloriously appears before, but also to my dear Cato, than
whom never was better man born, nor
In worlds that were not founded for a day,
But for eternal years ? ” 1
more distinguished for pious affection;
whose body was burned by me, whereas,
Here Science seems to suggest a on the contrary, it was fitting that mine
possible answer : the solution of problems should be burned by him. But his soul
which have puzzled us here; the acqui not deserting me, but oft looking back, no
sition of new ideas ; the unrolling the doubt departed to these regions whither it
history of the past; the world of animals saw that I myself was destined to come.
and plants; the secrets of space; the Which, though a distress to me, I seemed
wonders of the stars and of the regions patiently to endure : not that I bore it
beyond the stars. To become acquainted with indifference, but I comforted myself
with all the beautiful and interesting spots with the recollection that the separation
of our own world would indeed be some and distance between us would not con
thing to look forward to—and our world tinue long. For these reasons, O Scipio
is but one of many millions. I some (since you said that you with Laelius were
times ■wonder as I look away to the stars accustomed to wonder at this), old age is
at night whether it will ever be my tolerable to me, and not only not irksome,
privilege as a disembodied spirit to visit but even delightful. And if I am wrong
and explore them. When we had made in this, that I believe the souls of men to
the great tour fresh interests would have be immortal, I willingly delude myself:
arisen, and we might well begin again.
nor do I desire that this mistake, in
Here then is an infinity of interest which I take pleasure, should be wrested
without anxiety. So that at last the only from me as long as I live ; but if I, when
doubt may be
dead, shall have no consciousness, as some
narrow-minded philosophers imagine, I do
“ Lest an eternity should not suffice
To take the measure and the breadth and not fear lest dead philosophers should
height
ridicule this my delusion.”
Of what there is reserved in Paradise
Nor can I omit the striking passage
Its ever-new delight.”2
in the Apology, when, defending himself
I feel that to me, said Greg, “ God has before the people of Athens, Socrates says,
promised not the heaven of the ascetic “ Let us reflect in another way, and we
temper, or the dogmatic theologian, or of shall see that there is great reason to hope
the subtle mystic, or of the stern martyr that death is a good ; for one of two
ready alike to inflict and bear ; but a things—either death is a state of nothing
heaven of purified and permanent affec ness and utter unconsciousness, or, as men
tions—of a book of knowledge with eternal say, there is a change and migration of
leaves, and unbounded capacities to read the soul from this world to another.
it—of those we love ever round us, never Now if you suppose that there is no con
sciousness, but a sleep like the sleep of
him who is undisturbed even by dreams,
1 Trench.
2 Ibid.
“ These make him say,—If God has so arrayed
A fading world that quickly passes by,
Such rich provision of delight has made
For every human eye,
�CHAP. XIII
THE DESTINY OF MAN
107
death will be an unspeakable gain. For' to death for asking questions1; assuredly
if a person were to select the night in not. For besides being happier in that
which his sleep was undisturbed by world than in this, they will be immortal,
dreams, and were to compare with this if what is said be true.
the other days and nights of his life, and ’ “ Wherefore, O judges, be of good cheer
then were to tell us how many days and about death, and know of a certainty
nights he had passed in the course of his that no evil can happen to a good man,
life better and more pleasantly than this either in life or after death. He and his
one, I think that no man, I will not say a are not neglected by the gods ; nor has
private man, but not even the Great my own approaching end happened by
King, will find many such days or nights, mere chance. But I see clearly that to
when compared with the others. Now, die and be released was better for me;
if death is like this, I say that to die is and therefore the oracle gave no sign.
gain ; for eternity is then only a single For which reason, also, I am not angry
night. But if death is the journey to with my condemners, or with my accusers ;
another place, and there, as men say, they have done me no harm, although
all the dead are, what good, 0 my they did not mean to do me any good ;
friends and judges, can be greater than and for this I may gently blame them.
The hour of departure has arrived, and
this ?
“ If, indeed, when the pilgrim arrives in we go our ways—I to die and you to
the world below, he is delivered from the live. Which is better God only knows.’’
professors of justice in this world, and , In the Wisdom of Solomon we are
finds the true judges, who are said to promised that—
give judgment there,—Minos, and Rhada“ The souls of the righteous are in the
manthus, and yEacus, and Triptolemus, hand of God, and there shall no torment
and other sons of God who were righteous touch them.
in their own life,—that pilgrimage will
“ In the sight of the unwise they
indeed be worth making. What would seemed to die ; and their departure is
not a man give if he might converse with taken for misery.
Orpheus, and Musseus, and Hesiod, and
“ And their going from us to be utter
Homer ? Nay, if this be true, let me die destruction ; but they are in peace.
again and again. I myself, too, shall have
“ For though they be punished in the
a wonderful interest in there meeting and sight of men, yet is their hope full of
conversing with Palamedes, and Ajax the immortality.
son of Telamon, and other heroes of old,
“ And having been a little chastised,
who have suffered death through an unjust they shall be greatly rewarded : for God
judgment ; and there will be no small proved them, and found them worthy for
pleasure, as I think, in comparing my own himself.”
sufferings with theirs. Above all, I shall
And assuredly, if in the hour of death
then be able to continue my search into the conscience is at peace, the mind need
true and false knowledge ; as in this I not be troubled. The future is full of
world, so also in that ; and I shall find doubt, indeed, but fuller still of hope.
out who is wise, and who pretends to be
If we are entering upon a rest after the
wise, and is not. What would not a man struggles of life,
give, O judges, to be able to examine the ,
leader of the great Trojan expedition; |
“ Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest,”
or Odysseus or Sisyphus, or numberless ;
others, men and women too 1 What in
that to many a weary soul will be a
finite delight would there be in conversing
with them and asking them questions.
1 Referring to the cause of his own condemna
In another world they do not put a man tion.
�108
THE PLEASURES OF LIFE
PART II
welcome bourne, and even then we may read and enjoyed, but those also whom
say,
we have loved and lost; when we shall
“ 0 Death ! where is thy sting ?
leave behind us the bonds of the flesh and
0 Grave ! where is thy victory ? ”
the limitations of our earthly existence ;
On the other hand, if, trusting humbly when we shall join the Angels, the Arch
but confidently in the goodness of an angels, and all the company of Heaven,—
Almighty and loving Father, we are then, indeed, we may cherish a sure and
entering on a new sphere of existence, certain hope that the interests and
where we may look forward to meet not pleasures of this world are as nothing,
only those Great Men of whom we have compared to those of the life that awaits
heard so much, those whose works we have us in our Eternal Home.
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Victorian Blogging
Description
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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The pleasures of life
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: London
Collation: 108, [4] p. ; 22 cm.
Notes: Publisher's list and advertisements on unnumbered pages at the begining and end. Paper covers. Pictorial cover - portrait of author. Includes bibliographical references. Printed in double columns. Advertisements on preliminary pages and unnumbered pages at the end.
Contents: Part 1: The duty of happiness -- The happiness of duty -- A song of books -- The choice of books -- The blessing of friends -- The value of time -- The pleasures of travel -- The pleasures of home -- Science -- Education. Part 2: Ambition -- Wealth -- Health -- Love -- Art -- Poetry -- Music -- The beauties of nature -- The troubles of life -- Labour and rest -- Religion -- The hope of progress -- The destiny of man.
Creator
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Lubbock, John
Date
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1899
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Macmillan and Co. Limited
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Philosophy
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<img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /><br /><span>This work (The pleasures of life), identified by </span><span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk">Humanist Library and Archives</a></span><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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G2829
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application/pdf
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Text
Language
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English
Conduct of life
Education
Health
Life
Work
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PDF Text
Text
NATIONAL SECULAR SOCIETY
kJ 05^
THE
JOINT EDUCATION
OF
YOUNG MEN AND WOMEN
IN THE
AMERICAN SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES.
BEING A LECTURE DELIVERED BEFORE THE
SUNDAY LECTURE SOCIETY,
On 27th
of
April, 1873,
BY
MARY E. BEEDY, M.A.,
Graduate of Antioch College, U.S.
LONDON:PUBLISHED
by the
SUNDAY LECTURE SOCIETY.
1873.
Price Threepence.
�SUifoerttsentent.
SUNDAY LECTURE SOCIETY,
To provide for the delivery on Sundays in the Metropolis, and
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ST GEORGE’S HALL, LANGHAM PLACE,
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Twenty-four Lectures (in three series), ending 3rd May,
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�JOINT EDUCATION
OF
YOUNG MEM AND WOMEN.
HE American colonists carried with them their
practical English tendencies.
They were
impressed with a deep sense of the advantages of
education, but it had to be got at the least expense.
In the towns and cities they could have schools
for boys and schools for girls, but in the sparselypopulated rural districts separate schools were
impossible. It was almost more than the farmp.rs
could do to pay the cost of one. All the boys and
girls within a radius of two or three miles met
together in the same school. They were companions
and rivals in their pastimes, and it probably did not
occur to any one to consider whether there could
be any danger in continuing this rivalry in their
lessons. In the rapid growth of the population
some of these rural centres gradually became vil
lages and towns, but the joint education of the
girls and boys went on.
Iwo leading principles in school economy are, to
secure the smallest number of classes, and the
greatest equality of attainment between the pupils
in each class; and these principles favour large
schools rather than numerous schools. Schools
affording a higher grade of instruction, and known
T
�4
"Joint Education of
as academies, sprang up here and there. These
were private enterprises, and the commercial aim
was to furnish the best educational advantages
for the largest number of pupils at the least ex
pense. The teacher wanted to make as much money
as he could, and the parents had in general but little
to spend for the education of their sons and daughters.
The same economical views made these joint schools :
fewer teachers were required. These academies,
with the district schools I have before mentioned,
met almost the entire educational demands of the
rural and village population. A few of the more
ambitious boys went from these academies to the
universities, and a few of the girls went to young
ladies’ boarding-schools; but these were exceptional
cases.
You probably know that we have no men of
wealth and leisure living in the country. The soil
is owned by the men who work it, and the rich
men live in the cities. And I suppose you also know
that in any generation of American men the large
majority of those who lead in commerce, in politics,
and in the professions are the sons of farmers^
who in their boyhood worked on the farms and'
went to these rural schools in the leisure season;
the wives of these men having had for the most
part the same rural training. You can readily
see from this that the peculiarities of our rural
life, the circumstances that gave these men and
women the energy to bring themselves to the front
Tank of society, were likely to mefit with approval.
However, joint education was simply looked upon
as one of the necessities of our youthful life till
about twenty years ago. Men who rose to positions
of wealth and honour upon the basis of the educa
�Young Men and Women.
5
tion received in these schools did not praise joint
education any more than they praised the other
natural and frugal habits that attended their rural
life. No one had philosophised upon this system,
and there was no occasion to think of it. It had
simply been the most natural means of meeting a
great need. In both the district schools and in the
academies the boys and girls did about the same
work. They liked. to keep together. Now and
then a boy went a little farther in mathematics
than the girls did, in the prospect of a business
career and a life in the city; or he learned more Latin
and Greek in preparation for the university. There
was no question about difference of capacity or
difference of tastes between boys and girls; there
was nothing to suggest it. They liked to do the
same things, and the one did as well as the other.
Forty years ago, in one of the academies near Bos
ton, a number of girls went with a set of their school
boy-friends through the entire preparation for Har
vard University. The girls knew mathematics and
Greek as well as the boys did, and formed a plan for
going to the university with them. I cannot say
whether the plan grew out of a keen zest forknow
ledge, or out of an unwillingness to break off the
very pleasant companionship. Probably from both.
The girls did not think there could be much objection
to admitting them at the university. They thought
the reason there were no girls at the universities
was that none had wanted to go, or had been pre
pared to go. They proposed to live at home; so there
would be no difficulty on the score of college resi
dence. However, as their request was new, it
occurred to them that a little diplomacy might be
required in presenting it; so they deputed the most
�6
J
’ oint Education of
prudent of the party to do the talking, and imposed
strict silenee upon the youngest and most impulsive
one, from whom I have the story. The girls called
upon old President Quincy ; they told him what they
had done in their studies,—that they had passed
the examinations with the boys, and wished to be
admitted to the university. He listened'to their
story, and evinced so much admiration for their
work and aims that they at first felt sure of success.
But President Quincy seemed slow in coming to the
point. He talked of the newness and difficulties of
the scheme, and proposed other opportunities of
study for them, till at length this youngest one,
forgetting in her impatience her promise to keep
silent, said, “Well, President Quincy, you feel sure
the trustees will let us come, don’t you ? ”
0, by
no means,” was the reply :“ this is a place only for
men.”' The girl of sixteen burst into tears, and
exclaimed with vehemence, “ I wish I could anni
hilate the women, and let the men have every
thing to themselves! ”
This, so far as I know, was the first effort made
by women to get into an American university, but
the incident was too trifling to make any impression,
and I narrate it only as marking the beginning of
the demand for university advantages for women.
About the same time Oberlin College was founded
in Northern Ohio. It grew out of a great practical
everyday-life demand. There was a wide-spread
desire on the part of well-to-do people for larger
educational advantages than the ordinary rural
schools provided. They could not afford the expense
of the city schools : besides, they wanted their sons
and daughters to go on together in their school work ;
they were unwilling to subject either to the dangers
�Young Men and Women.
7
of boarding-school life without the companionship
and guardianship of the other. Oberlin College was
founded on the strictest principles of economy. It
was located in a rural village in the West, where the
habits were simple and the living inexpensive. In
the third year of its existence it had 500 students,
and since the first ten years it has averaged nearly
1,200, the proportion of young women varying from
one-third to one-half. There was a university
course of study for the young men, and a shorter
ladies’ course for the young women, which omitted
all the Greek, most of the Latin, and the higher
mathematics. It was not anticipated that the
young women would desire the extended university
course, but so far as the two courses accorded the
instruction was given to the young men and the
young women in common. But the young women
were allowed to attend any of the classes they chose,
and at the end of six years a few of them had pre
pared themselves for the B.A. examination, and
were allowed upon passing it to receive the degree.
The college authorities did not seem to consider
that B.A. and M.A. were especially masculine
designations. They regarded them only as marks of
scholastic attainments, which belonged equally to
men and women when they had reached a certain
standard of scholarship. Not many Women could
stay, or cared to stay, long enough to get these
degrees. The “ ladies’ course ” required nearly two
years’ less-time, and contained a larger proportion of
the subjects that women are expected to know. The
number of women who have received the university
degrees from Oberlin is still less than a hundred,
making an average of only two or three for each
year. Oberlin sent out staunch men and women.
�"8
"Joint Education of
Wherever these men and women went it was ob
served that they worked with a will and with effect.
The eminent success of Oberlin led many parents
in different parts of the country to desire its advan
tages for their sons and daughters. But Oberlin was
a long way off from New England and from many
other parts of the country; besides some thought
it an uncomfortably religious place; negroes were
admitted, and it was altogether very democratic,
much more so than many people liked. So parents
began to say, 11 Why can’t we have other colleges
that shall provide all the advantages of Oberlin and
omit the peculiarities we dislike.” Now began the
discussion upon the real merits of this economical
system of joint education. It had sprung up like
an indigenous plant. It had met a necessity remark
ably . well, and it was only when, its advantages
becoming recognised, it began to press itself into
the cities and among people where it was not a ne
cessity, that it evoked any discussion. This was a
little more than twenty years ago. People who had
observed the working of the joint schools were alto
gether in favour of them. The wealthier people in
the towns and cities, who were accustomed to having
boys and girls educated apart, preferred separate
schools, and thought joint education would be a dan
gerous innovation ; that in the institution adopting
it the girls would lose their modesty and refinement,
and the boys would waste their time. Leading edu
cators were divided upon this question: „ those who
were familiar with the joint schools were the most
uncompromising advocates of that system; those
who had known only the schools where girls and
boys were educated apart for the most part preferred
separate education, where it could be afforded. Not
�Young Men and Women.
9
all, however, for many had developed the theory of
joint education out of an opposite experience. In
girls’ schools they had felt the want of adequate
stimulants for thorough work. They had seen the
strong tendency in girls to fit themselves for society
rather than for the severer duties of life ; they be
lieved that if girls were associated with boys and
young men in their studies, they would not only be
better scholars, but that they would remain longer
in school, that they would have less eagerness to
get out of school into society. And many who
were familiar with boys’ schools felt the dangers
attendant upon the absence of domestic influence,
and saw that it might be very largely supplied by
the presence of sisters and schoolfellows’ sisters.
They saw too that the tendencies to a coarse
physical development, which are found in an ex
clusive- society of men, might be counteracted by
the presence of women. In short, all who were
acquainted with joint education gave it their most
unqualified approval; while those who knew only
the system of separate education were for the most
part disposed to favour that, though many of these
saw the need of something in girls’ schools which the
presence of boys would introduce, and something in
boys’ schools which the presence of girls would sup
ply. The advocacy of joint education was valiantly
led by Horace Mann, the greatest American educator,
the man who stands with us where Dr Arnold
stands in the hearts of English people.
About this time Antioch College was founded in
Southern Ohio, and Mr Mann was invited to take
charge of it. Its object was to provide educational
facilities as nearly equal to those found at the best
New England universities as possible, and it
was
�io
Joint Education of
founded avowedly upon the principle that joint
education per se was a good thing; that it was
natural; that it was a great advantage to have
brothers and sisters in the same school; that girls
were both more scholarly and more womanly when
associated with boys, and boys were more gentle
manly and more moral when associated with girls ;
and that both girls and boys come out of joint
schools with juster views of life, and a larger sense
of moral obligation.
Other new colleges followed the example of
Antioch, and some of the old ones began to open their
doors to women. To-day the national free schools
and public schools in most of the cities of the North
educate boys and girls together. In some of the older
cities, particularly Boston, New York, and Phila
delphia, the schools are for the most part conducted
on the original plan of separate schools. The school
buildings are not arranged for the accommodation of
boys and girls together, and there is still a strong
sentiment against the plan, though it is gradually,
and I may say rapidly, giving way. In tire Western
cities, Cincinnati, Chicago, and St Louis, the boys
and girls study together throughout the entire
course, that is, till they are ready to go to the
universities ; though in St Louis, and perhaps in
the other two cities, there are a few of the grammar
schools where they are still apart, the buildings not
being arranged for the accommodation of both.
The system prevails in the rural schools almost
without exception, and almost as generally in the
public schools' of the towns and cities, with the
exceptions that I have mentioned ; there are now
over thirty colleges and universities that offer univer
sity degrees to women on the same conditions as
�Young Men and Women.
11
to men. On the other hand, there is still a large
number of private schools in the towns and cities
which are generally either boys’ schools or girls’
schools. They are for the most part schools esta
blished for teaching the children of some pai-ticular
religious denomination, for fitting boys for a com
mercial career, or for giving especial drill for the
universities; or, in the case of girls’ schools, for
giving especial training for society: but the public
schools are rapidly drawing into them the children
of the best educated families, for the simple reason
that they are the best schools of the country.
The oldest universities and colleges still keep
their doors shut against women. Harvard, within
the last year, has appointed a committee to consider
the demand made by women, but their report was
adverse. The committee recognised the success of
the system elsewhere, but thought it not wise to
attempt the change in Harvard.
Michigan University, a free state university,
which stands second to none in educational advan
tages, except Harvard and Yale, and has double the
number of students of either of these, admitted
women three years ago. And Cornell University,
which has as good prospects as any in the country,
has just received its first class of women.
I heard it announced with great gravity in the
British Association a year-and-a-half ago in Edin
burgh, that girls had no difficulty in learning arith
metic, and no one smiled. So completely is this
question settled with us, that I think such .an
announcement would have been received by a
public assembly in America with a derisive laugh.
Joint schools and colleges have settled the question
whether girls can learn not only arithmetic, but
�12
'Joint Education of
also the higher mathematics, logic, and metaphysics;
and have established beyond a doubt in the minds
of American educators, that in acute perception,
in the ability to grasp abstruse principles, the
feminine mind is in no wise inferior to the mascu
line. But the question is still open, whether
women have the physical strength to endure the
continuous mental work requisite for the greatest
breadth and completeness of comprehension. This
can be determined only by experiments which shall
extend through a longer series of years devoted to
study. The records at Oberlin indicate that the
young women are no more likely to break down in
health than the young men are. The records of
the city schools do not seem to be quite the same
upon this point, but the same difference would
doubtless appear if the girls were not in school; and
this failure in health cannot be attributed to the
school work, but rather to the more indoor life of the
girls. The Oberlin statistics also indicate that the
women who have taken the university degrees have
not diminished their chance of longevity by this
severe work in their youth. Women have less phy
sical strength than men have, but there seems to be
in them a tendency to a more economical expendi
ture of strength. Their energy is less driving, and
there is, in consequence, less waste from friction.
In regard to the social morality at these schools
the results are equally satisfactory. At the rural
schools boys and girls. have almost unrestricted
companionship; they have just the same freedom
in their home intercourse, but improper or even
objectionable conduct is a'thing unknown at the
schools, and almost equally unknown in the associa
tion outside the schools. Brothers and brothers’
�Young Men and Women.
13
friends guard the sister, and sisters and their friends
o-uard the brother. In cases where it is necessary
for the pupils to reside at the school there is more
love-making, but it is mostly repressed by want of
time; besides, there are few occasions for meeting,
except in the presence of the class, and where there
is an acquaintance with so many on about equal
terms an especial regard for one is less likely to be
formed. The admiration of the boys is suie to
centre upon the girls who are nearest the head
of the class; but these girls have not time to return
it and keep their position, and to lose their position
would be to lose the admiration; and the same is
true with the boys.
I am sure it would be surprising to any one who
is not familiar with these schools to observe to what
very practical and common-sense principles all these
otherwise romantic and illusory relations are sub
jected. In this mutual intellectual rivalship the
conjectural differences between the sexes, and the
fancied charms of the one over the other, are sub
mitted to very practical tests. A disagreeable boy
is not likely to be considered a hero in virtue of his
assumed bearing and physical strength; nor is a
silly girl, by* dint of her coquettish airs likely to
be thought a fairy with magical gifts. Girls know
boys as boys know each other; and boys know girls
as girls know each other. Hence the subtle charms
that evade human logic find little opportunity to
blind and mislead in the constant presence of unmistakeable facts.
In all the time I was at Antioch College no word
of disreputable scandal ever came to my ears, and
in recent years I have repeatedly heard from young
men who were there when I was, that in their whole
�14
Joint Education of
five or six years they never heard the faintest shadow
of imputation against any young woman in the
institution. And so stern was the morality, that
smoking, beer-drinking, and card-playing were
all considered crimes,, and banished from the
premises.
You have now heard my statement respecting the
effectiveness of joint education, and, though it is
made from a very extended and thorough acquaint
ance with the system, I shall not ask you to accept
it without the support of other and authoritative
testimony. Abundant confirmation of my state
ment will be found in all Official Reports and in
treatises that review this system, while no testi
mony of a contrary character is anywhere to be
found. I will first quote from the published
. Report of Mr Harris, Superintendent of the Public
Schools in St Louis. He is well known to the
leading students of German philosophy in all the
countries of Europe, and I think I may say in
his own country is recognised as standing in the
front rank of American educators. No other man
has brought so much philosophical insight to the
study of dur public school system. I quote from
Mr Harris’s Report of 1871 a condensed summary
of the results- of this system of joint education as
they have developed themselves under his observa
tion and direction. He says :—
- “ Within the last fifteen years the schools of St Louis have
been remodelled upon the plan of the joint education of the
sexes, and the results have proved so admirable that a few
remarks may be ventured on the experience which they
furnish.
. “ I-—Economy has been secured, for, unless pupils of widely
different attainments are brought together in the same classes,
�Young Men and Women.
15
the separation of the boys and girls requires a great increase
in the number of teachers.
“II.—Discipline has improved continually by the adoption
of joint schools ; our change in St Louis has been so gradual
that we have been able to weigh with great exactness every
point of comparison between the two systems. The joining
of the male and female departments of a school has always
been followed by an improvement in discipline ; not merely
on the part of the boys, but with the girls as well. The rude
ness and abandon which prevails among boys when separate
at once gives place to self-restraint in the presence of girls,
and the sentimentality engendered in girls when educated
apart from boys disappears in these joint schools, and in its
place there comes a dignified self-possession. The few schools
that have given examples of efforts to secure clandestine asso
ciation are those few where there are as yet only girls.
“ HI.—The quality of instruction is improved. Where the
boys and girls are separate, methods of instruction tend to
extremes, that may be called masculine and feminine. Each
needs the other as a counter-check. We find in these joint
schools a prevalent healthy tone which our schools on the
separate system lack—more rapid progress is the conse
quence.
“ IV.—The development of individual character is, as
already indicated, far more sound and healthy. . It has been
found that schools composed exclusively of girls or boys
require a much more strict surveillance on the part of the
teachers. Confined by themselves and shut off from inter
course with society in its normal form, morbid fancies and
interests are developed which this daily association in the
class-room prevents. Here boys and girls test themselves
with each other on an intellectual plane. Each sees the
strength and weakness of the other, and learns to esteem
those qualities that are of true value. Sudden likes, capri
cious fancies, and romantic ideas give way to sober judgments
not easily deceived by mere externals. This is the basis of
the dignified self-possession before alluded to, and it forms a
striking point of contrast between the girls and boys edu
cated in joint schools and those educated in schools exclu
sively for one sex. Our experience in St Louis has been
entirely in favour of the joint education of the sexes, in all
the respects mentioned and in many minor ones.”
�16
Joint Education of
I give Mr Harris’s statement as representative of
the sentiment of those who are engaged in public
school instruction in America. As I said before, in
some of the older cities, where the public schools
were earliest organised, the joint system has been
accepted as yet only partially, and the teachers, who
are only familiar with the separate system, gene
rally prefer it. But a very large proportion of
the public schools of the country are joint schools,
and a still larger proportion of the instructors and
managers of public schools favour the system of
joint education. Mr Harris’s testimony applies to
city schools, when the pupils reside at home.
I now quote to you from another authority, addi
tionally valuable inasmuch as it represents the
results of this system of education upon young men
and women who reside at the school and away from
the guardianship of parents.
In 1868 a meeting was called of all the College
Presidents of the country, to discuss questions
relating to college discipline and instruction. As
Oberlin was the oldest college that had adopted
the system of joint instruction, a strong desire
was felt to secure a critical and comprehensive
statement of the results of the system there. Dr
Fairchild, the present President of Oberlin, was
deputed to make the Report. He had at that
time been connected with Oberlin seven years
as a student and twenty-five years as professor,
and has long had the reputation of being the most
accomplished scholar and acute thinkei' among the
Oberlin professors. His statements may therefore
be accepted as absolute in point of fact, and as
wholly representative of the opinion of those who
have conducted the instruction and discipline at
�Young Men and Women.
!7
Oberlin. But my chief reason for selecting this out
of the accumulated published testimony is that it
.seems to me the best digest of the subject that I
have seen.
Dr Fairchild says :—
“ 1st.—On the point of economy In the higher depart
ments of instruction, where the chief expense is involved,
the. expense is no greater on account of the presence of the
ladies.
“ 2nd.—Convenience to the patrons of the school:—It is a
matter of interest to notice the number of cases where a
brother is followed by a sister, or a sister by a brother. This
is an interesting and prominent feature in our work. Each is
safer in the presence of the other.
“3rd.—The wholesome incitements to study, which the
system affords :—The social influence arising from the consti
tution of our classes operates continuously and upon all.
Each desires for himself the best standing he is capable of,
and there is no lack of motive to exertion. It will be observed,
too, that the stimulus is of the same kind as will operate in
after life. The young man going out into the world does
not leave behind him the forces that have helped him on.
They are the ordinary forces of society.
“ 4th.-—The tendency to good order that we find in the
system :—The ease with which the discipline of so large a
school is conducted has not ceased to be a matter of wonder
to ourselves. More than one thousand students are gathered
from every State in the Union, from every class in society, of
every grade of culture, the great mass of them bent on im
provement, but numbers are sent by anxious friends with the
hope that they may be saved or reclaimed from every evil
tendency. Yet the disorders incident to such gatherings are
essentially unknown among us. Our streets are as quiet
by day and by night as in any other country town. This
result we attribute greatly to the wholesome influence of the
system of joint education. College tricks lose their attrac
tiveness in a community thus constituted. They scarcely
appear among us. We have had no difficulty in reference to
the conduct and manners in the college dining-hall. There is
an entire absence of the irregularities and roughness so often
complained of in the college commons.
“ 5th.—Another manifest advantage is the relation of the
B
�18
Joint Education of
school to the community. A cordial feeling of goodwill and
the absence of that antagonism between town and college
which in general belongs to the history of universities and
colleges. The constitution of the school is so similar to that
of the community that any conflict is unnatural; the usual
provocation seems to be wanting,
“ 6th.—It can hardly be doubted that people educated
under such conditions are kept in harmony with society at
large, and are prepared to appreciate the responsibilities of
life, and to enter upon its work. If we are not utterly de
ceived in our position, our students naturally and readily find
their position in the world, because they have been trained in
sympathy with the world. These are among the advantages
of the system that have forced themselves upon our attention.
The list might be extended and expanded, but you will wish
especially to know whether'we have not encountered disad
vantages and difficulties which more than counterbalance
these advantages.
“ As to the question whether young ladies have the mental
vigour and physical health to maintain a fair standing in a
class with voung men, I must say, where there has been the
same preparatory training, we find no difference in ability to
maintain themselves in the class-room and at the examina
tions. The strong and the weak scholars are equally distri
buted between the sexes.
“ Whether ladies need a course of study especially adapted
to their nature and prospective work ?—The theory of our
school has never been that men and women are alike in
mental constitution, or that they naturally and properly
occupy the same position in their work of life. The educa
tion furnished is general, not professional, designed to fit men
and women for any position or work to which they may pro
perly be called. The womanly nature will appropriate the
material to its own necessities under its own laws.' Young
men and women sit at the same table and parta.ke of the
same food, and we have no apprehension that the vital forces
will fail to elaborate from the common material the osseous,
fibrous, and nervous tissues adapted to each frame and
constitution.
.
<£ Apprehension is felt that character will deteriorate on
the one side or the other,—that young men will become
frivolous or effeminate, and young women coarse and mas
culine.
�Toung Men and Women.
T9
“ That young men should lose their manly attributes and
character from proper association with, cultivated young
women is antecedently improbable and false in fact. It is
the natural atmosphere for the development of the higher
qualities of manhood—magnanimity, generosity, true chivalry,
and earnestness. The animal man is kept subordinate in the
prevalence of these higher qualities.
“We have found it the surest way to make men of boys
and gentlemen of rowdies.
“ On the other hand, will not the young woman, pursuing
her studies with young men, take on their manners, and
aspirations, and aims, and be turned aside from the true ideal
of womanly life and character ? The thing is scarcely con
ceivable. The natural response of woman to the exhibition
of manly traits is in the correlative qualities of gentleness,
delicacy, and grace.
“ It might better be questioned whether, the finer shadings
of woman’s character can be developed without this natural
stimulus ; but it is my duty not to reason, but to speak from
the limited historical view assigned me.
“You wish to know whether the result with us has been a
large accession to the number of coarse, strong-minded women,
in the disagreeable sense of the word; and I say, without
hesitation, that I do not know a single instance of such a
product as the result of our system of education.
“ Is there not danger that young men and young women
thus brought together in the critical period of fife, when the
distinctive social tendencies act with greatest intensity, will
fail of the necessary regulative force, and fall into undesirable
and unprofitable relations ? Will not such association result
in weak and foolish love affairs ? It is not strange that such
apprehension is felt, nor would it be easy to give an a priori
answer to such difficulties ; but if we may judge from our
experience, the difficulties are without foundation. The
danger in this direction results from excited imagination,
from the glowing exaggerations of youthful fancy, and the
best remedy is to displace these fancies by every-day facts
and realities.
“Theyoung man shut out from the society of ladies, with
the help of the high-wrought representations of life which
poets and novelists afford, with only a distant vision of the
reality, is the one who is in danger. The women whom he
sees are glorified by his fancy, and are wrought into his day
�io
Joint Education of
dreams and night dreams as beings of supernatural loveliness.
It would be different if he met them day by day in the class
room, in a common encounter with a mathematical problem,
or at a table sharing in the common want of bread and butter.
There is still room for the fancy to work, but the materials
for the picture are more reliable and enduring. Such associa
tion does not take all the romance out of life, but it gives as
favourable conditions for sensible views and actions upon
these delicate questions as can be afforded to human nature.
“ But is this method adapted to schools in general, or is the
success attained at Oberlin due to peculiar features of the
place, which can rarely be found or reproduced elsewhere,
and can it be introduced into men’s colleges with their tradi
tional customs and habits of action and thought ? Might not
the changes required occasion difficulty at the outset and
peril the experiment ? On this point I have no experience,
but I have such confidence in the inherent vitality and
adaptability of the system that I should be entirely willing to
see it subjected to this test.”
I am sorry not to give you a more lengthened
account of Dr Fairchild’s Report, but the time warns
me to hasten.
Respecting economy, school discipline, social
order, and the improved character of both young
men and young women, and the high scholar
ship attained by young women, you see that Dr
Fairchild’s statement fully corroborates my own
and that of Mr Harris. He agrees with us that
the grade of scholarship of the young men is in no
wise lowered by this joint work, but, on the con
trary, that the average is higher.
To be definite upon this point, my own opinion
is that those marvellous feats of scholarship that
sometimes occur in boys’ schools are not so likely to
occur in a joint school, where a little more of the
domestic and social element is found. On the other
hand, from a long and close observation, I feel fully
justified in saying the average scholarship is higher.
�Young Men and 'Women.
21
There is a more general stimulus for good scholar
ship. The standard of respectability is somewhat
different from what it is in a school exclusively for
boys. A boy may secure the respect of his boy
associates by being an adept on the playground or
generally a good fellow, but as he is known to the
girls only through his class work, he feels more
especially bound to make this creditable.
I should like to accumulate authority upon these
points, but I must ask you to accept my statement
that the opinions I have' given you are those held
by the very large majority of the educators of the
country.
In this system of joint education you see that
the difficulty of getting funds to establish schools
scarcely appears as an obstacle to the higher edu
cation of women. It requires so little more to edu
cate girls along with boys than it does to educate
boys alone, and lack of the masculine incentive to
study is largely supplied to the girls by class
rivalry. The girls like to remain at school, and
they like to do as much work and as good work as
the boys do; and the boys are equally eager to keep
the companionship of the girls, and to keep up the
competition in all the departments of the work.
There is a mutual rivalry which both enjoy, and
the girls work with zest, without thinking whether
there is to be any reward beyond the simple enjoy
ment of their work, without considering whether it
will ever bring them any farther returns.
The work of the girls in the joint schools has
done much to force up the standard in the exclu
sively girls’ schools. These schools could not afford
the disparaging comparison. So the teachers intro
duce the same studies as are found in the joint
�22
Joint Education of
schools, and do the best they can to get as good
work from their girls. But in most of the girls’
schools I have ever visited, the work will not com
pare with the work of girls in the joint schools.
When Dr Fairchild says he does not know a '
single instance in which a coarse, strong-minded
woman, in the disagreeable sense, has been the pro
duct of the Oberlin system of education, it must not
be understood that there have been no women of that
type at Oberlin, for there have been, and Oberlin
lias done much to soften them and refine them,
but it could not wholly change their natures and
previously-acquired habits. Upon this point there
is a pernicious popular delusion, and I am at a loss
to account for its origin. It is not association with
men that developes this type of character. The
reverse of this is the case, as Dr Fairchild has
indicated. It is true that many highly-intellectual
and highly-educated women have been peculiar,
have developed peculiarities or idiosyncrasies of
character or habit which lessened their companion
able and womanly attractiveness, but these women
have generally worked by themselves, away from
society, apart from the companionship of men.
Joint schools are the most complete corrective of
these tendencies. Whatever elevates women in the
eyes of men they are disposed to cultivate in the
presence of men, and whatever elevates men in the
eyes of women they cultivate in the presence of
women. There is little danger of careless toilet
with young women who are constantly meeting
young men; little danger of angular movement, of
unamiable sharpness, of egotism, and pronounced
self-assertion.
The disagreeable women, the women contemp-
�Toung Men and Women.
23
tuously called strong-minded, are women who have
not known a genial social atmosphere. Crotchety
men and crotchety women are the product of isola
tion from society, and formerly women could not
mount the heights of knowledge except in isolation.
The attractive women, the women who seem to have
a genius for womanliness, are the women who have
been much in the society of men,—women at court,
women in political and diplomatic circles, women
who are familiar with the thought and’ experience
of men, women who talk with men and work with
men.
Social intercourse at these joint schools is not of
course left to chance. Girls and boys need and get
as careful attention at school as in their homes.
Usually they enter and leave the school building
by different doors, and indeed meet only when they
are receiving instruction from the teachers, where
they occupy separate forms on different sides of the
room. Among the older pupils, at all times, except
at the lecture hours, the girls usually have their own
rooms and the boys theirs,'and no communication
between them is possible, except as the teachers
choose to grant permission, which is not asked with
out explaining the occasion. The boys do not
appear to care very much to talk to the girls, at
least they would not be willing to have it seen that
they did. At the boarding-schools the young men
and young women usually have their private apart
ments in different buildings, but meet in a common
dining-hall in the building occupied by the young
■ women. Here they arrange themselves as they
like, the size of the company and the presence of
teachers being quite sufficient to exclude objection
able manners. At the times allowed for recreation
�24
.•
Joint Education of
the arrangements are such as to preclude for the
most part opportunities for young men and young
women to meet, though there are very frequent
receptions at .the homes of the professors or at the
general parlours, when they meet as they would at
any ordinary social party. At a few of the smaller
boarding-schools much more freedom, of intercourse
has been allowed, and with very admirable results ;
but this requires great wisdom and care on the part
of the teachers, more than they are generally able
to give in a large school. Where the pupils live at
home no very especial care is required on the part
of the teachers, further than would under any
circumstances be necessary to secure general good
order.
This system of education developes self-reliance
and a sense of responsibility, to such a degree that,
as I quoted from Dr Fairchild, it is a constant sur
prise to see how little direction they need. A good
many times while I was at Antioch College, young
men who had got into disgrace, or had been dis
missed from young men’s colleges, were sent there
to be reclaimed from their bad habits, and it is
surprising what effect this home-like association
had upon them.
I have already mentioned Michigan University
as the best institution that has as yet opened its
doors to women. This was done three years ago.
For ten years the question had been pending before
the trustees. A letter was addressed to Horace
Mann, asking for minute information concerning
the working of Antioch, and seeking counsel in
reference to the advisability of attempting the
tame plan at the Michigan University. Mr Mann
replied, that though he was an ardent advocate
�Toung Men and Women. '
25
of joint education and was satisfied with the
results achieved at Antioch, he should be afraid
to attempt the plan in a large town, where college
residence was not required. This ‘letter settled
the matter for the time. The trustees said:—
“ We cannot, endanger the morality of our students,
and the reputation of our institution, to accommo
date the few women who wish to come. We give
them our sympathy, but can at present do nothing
more.” But every now and then, with the change
of trustees, the question was revived. The men of
this new rich State felt ashamed to do so much less
for their daughters than for their sons, and they
were particularly sensitive to the argument that the
privileges of the institution could be extended to
the young women with almost no increase in the
expenses. Three years ago the opposition found
itself in the minority, and a resolution was passed
admitting women to all the classes of the university.
The dangers Horace Mann feared have not, and
in all probability will not come. Even the young
men, who in anticipation dreaded an invasion of
women into their realm of free-and-easy habits,
now unite in the most cordial approval of the plan.
They find a genial element added to their college
life in place of a chafing restraint.
The first year only one woman came into the
Arts-classes. This bold venturer was the daughter
of a deceased professor, by whom she had been
trained up to a point a good deal in advance of the
requisites for entrance. This enabled her to step at
once into the front rank of the class of two hundred
young men, who had been in the university a year
before her. No sooner was she there than the
dread and anticipated restraint on the part of the
�26
*
'Joint Education of
young men were forgotten, and the most chivalric
feeling sprang up in its place.
For a whole year Miss Stockwell was alone in
the Arts-classes among seven or eight hundred young
men, yet nothing ever occurred to make her feel in
the slightest degree uncomfortable. She took her
B.A. degree last summer as the first Greek scholar
in the university. There are now a hundred young
women or more in the various departments of
the university. The Professor of Civil Engineer
ing has been in the habit of giving to his class
every year a particular mathematical problem,
a sort of pons asinorum, as a test of their
ability. Not once during fifteen years had any
member of the class solved it, though the professor
states that during that time he has propounded it
to fifteen hundred young men. Last year, as usual,
the old problem was again presented to the class.
A Miss White alone, of all the class, brought in the
solution. The best student in the Law school last
year was a woman.
I could tell you many other stories of the suc
cesses of women in these joint schools, but it would
not be safe to conclude from these accounts that the
young women in America are superior to the young
men ; for, as you would naturally suppose, the few
women who at present avail themselves of university
training, in opposition to the popular notion of what
is wise and becoming, are for the most part above
the average of the women of the country. I think
I may say, however, that girls are a little more
likely to lead the classes in the schools than boys
are. They are, perhaps, a little more conscientious
in doing the work assigned them, and have a little
more school ambition.
�Toung Men and Women.
27
I quote the following from the Annual Report of
the Michigan University for the year ending 1872 :—
■ “ In the Medical Department the women receive instruc
tion by themselves. In the other departments all instruction
is given to both sexes in common.
“ It is manifestly not wise to leap to hasty generalisations
from our short experience in furnishing education to both
sexes in our university. But I think all w’ho have been
familiar with the inner life of the university for the past
three years will admit that, thus far, no reason for doubting
the wisdom of the action of the trustees in opening the uni
versity to women has appeared.
“Hardly one of the many embarrassments which some
have feared have confronted us. The young women have
addressed themselves to their work with great zeal, and have
shown themselves quite capable of meeting the demands of
severe studies as successfully as their classmates of the other
sex. Their work, so far, does not evince less variety of apti
tude or less power of grappling even with the higher mathe
matics than we find in the young men. They receive no
favour, and desire none. They are subjected to precisely the
same tests as the men. Nor does their work seem to put a
dangerous strain upon their physical powers. Their absences
by reason of illness do not proportionably exceed those of the
men. Their presence has not called for the enactment of a
single new law, nor for the slightest change in our methods of
government or grade of work.
“If we are asked still to regard the reception of women
into our classes as an experiment, it must certainly be deemed
a most hopeful experiment. The numerous inquiries that
have been sent to us from various parts of this country, and
even from England, concerning the results of their admission
to the university, show that a profound and wide-spread
interest in the subject has been awakened.”
I can say for myself, that I have never known
any one who has spent a few days at one of these
colleges who has not become a convert to the
scheme.
There is in America a strong and constantly
growing conviction, that the best plan for educating
.
�28
"Joint Education of
both boys and girls is for them to reside at home
and attend day schools; that this avoids the defects
attendant upon the system of governesses and
tutors, and also the dangers that are inherent in
the congregated life of boarding-schools; and as
American families seldom leave home for, at most,
more than a few weeks in midsummer, this plan is
easily carried out. In accordance with this con
viction, the citizens of Boston have recently erected
and endowed a large university in the centre of
their city, although the time-honoured Harvard
stands scarcely two miles beyond their precincts.
The Boston University, which starts with larger
available funds than those of Harvard, will be
opened this autumn, and as a second step in the
direction of the popular educational sentiment, the
trustees have decided to offer its advantages and
honours to young women on the same conditions as
to young men.
There is evidently a disposition in America to
open all lines of study to women, and a few women
have entered each of the three learned professions,
but the time is too short and the number too small
for us to be able as yet to generalise upon the fitness
of women for professions, or their inclination to
choose them.
Most of our women—I think I may almost say
all of our women—expect to marry, and most of
them do marry. We have not that redundancy of
women to trouble and puzzle the advocates of
domesticity that you have here; and as fortunes are
more easily made, men are not timid in incurring
domestic responsibilities. As a consequence of this,
the industrial occupations that women seek, other
than domestic, are expected to be only temporary,
�Young Men and Women.
ig
and are such as may be entered upon without
much especial professional training, and may be
given up without involving much sacrifice of pre
vious study or discipline. I think I may say there
is a very general disposition to seek those that will
especially contribute to their fitness for domestic
life.
This brings me to a peculiar feature of American
education—the prevalence of women teachers. In
the public schools of St Louis there are forty men
teachers and over four hundred women teachers;
only about one-twelfth of the whole number are
men, and this I think would be about the general
average for the cities of the north. The primary
schools are taught exclusively by women—most of
the grammar schools have only a man at the head of
them, and in the high schools there is about an
equal number of men and women.
In two of the most successful grammar schools in
St Louis there are only women teachers. Recent
experiments in placing women at the head of several
of the grammar schools in Cleveland, Ohio, give
still stronger confirmation of the marked governing
power of women as contrasted with men.
Women teachers have been employed in the
schools in preference to men as a matter of economy,
but underneath this cloak of economy an unex
pected virtue has been found. It is now pretty
well settled that with equal experience and scholarly
attainments women teach better than men do, and
that they manage the pupils with more tact; that
is, they succeed in getting from the pupils what
they want, with more ease and less disturbance of
temper.
Where women do precisely the, same work as
�jo
Joint Education of
men in teaching, they get less pay. Wages have
followed the law of supply and demand. The guar
dians of the public school treasures have generally
not felt at liberty to offer more than the regular
market prices for work. But I am glad to say the
more enlightened public feeling is beginning to make
a change in this respect. A few women are paid
men’s wages—are paid what they ought to have,
rather than what they could command in an open
market.
Teaching in America, as I have indicated, is for
the most part a temporary occupation ; it is chiefly
done by young people between the ages of eighteen
and thirty who have no intention of making it a
profession. The women marry and the men enter
other occupations. How much the schools lose by
the immaturity and inexperience of the teachers it
is difficult to estimate accurately; but that they
gain much by the freshness and enthusiasm of these
young minds is unquestionable. Young teachers
get into closer sympathy with pupils, and can more
readily understand the movements of their minds
and apprehend their difficulties.
The plan of teaching for a few years is very
popular among young people, from the general
belief that it furnishes the best possible discipline
for a successful life. This experience in teaching is
considered valuable for young men, but still more
valuable for young women, and many young women
who have no need to earn money teach for a few
years .after leaving school, sometimes from their
own choice, but much oftener from the choice of
their parents, who wish to supplement the daughter’s
education with the more varied discipline that
teaching affords.
�Toung Men and Women.
31
Thus the teaching of women is encouraged from
four considerations :—
First. According to the present arrangement of
wages it is economical.
Second. Women seem to have an especial natural
aptitude for the work as compared with men.
Third. The general welfare of society demands
that wage-giving industries shall be provided for
women.
Fourth. Of all the employments offered to women,
teaching seems the best suited to fit them for
domestic life, the life that lies before the most of
them, and so positive are its claims in this direction
that it is being sought as an employment with that
single end in view.
A few years of teaching forms so prominent a
feature in the education of leading American
women, that I could not omit it in any general
consideration of this subject.
Note.—The Times of' January 3rd, 1874, gives the following
extracts from “Circulars of Information,” just published by the
United States Bureau of Education:—The total number of
degrees conferred in 1873 by the Higher Colleges was 4,493, and
376 honorary. One hundred and ninety-one ladies received
degrees. Illinois has thirteen Colleges, in which women have
the same or equal facilities with men ; Wisconsin has four, Iowa
three, Missouri four, Ohio ten, and Indiana nine; New York has
seven, and Pennsylvania, seven.
PRINTED BY C. W. REYNELL, LITTLE PULTENEY STREET, HAYMARKET.
��
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The joint education of young men and women in the American schools and colleges : being a lecture delivered before the Sunday Lecture Society, on 27th of April, 1873
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Beedy, Mary E.
Sunday Lecture Society
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 31 p. ; 18 cm.
Notes: Advertisement for Sunday Lecture Society on p.[2], delivered at St George's Hall, Langham Place. Printed by C.W. Reynell, Haymarket, London. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
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Education
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Coeducation-United States
Education
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Women
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Text
��ALPHABET OF THE DEAF AND DUMB.
a
b
c
d
e
��THE
FIFTY.SECOND ANNUAL EEPORT
OF THE
Directors and Officers
OF THE
AMERICAN ASYLUM
AT HARTFORD,
FOR THE
EDUCATION AND INSTRUCTION
OF THE
DEAF AND DUMB.
PRESENTED TO THE ASYLUM, MAY 16,' 1868.
HARTFORD, CONN.:
WILEY, WATERMAN & EATON, STEAM BOOK AND JOB PRINTERS,
1868.
��PBESIDE1TT.
Hon. CALVIN DAY.
VICE-PRESIDE JSTT^.
JAMES B. HOSMER,
HENRY A. PERKINS,
BARZILLAI HUDSON,
SAMUEL S. WARD,
CHARLES GOODWIN,
ROLAND MATHER,
JOHN BEACH,
NATHANIEL SHIPMAN.
DIRECTORS.
(By Election.)
LEONARD CHURCH,
ERASTUS COLLINS,
LUCIUS BARBOUR,
JONATHAN B. BUNCE,
GEO. M. BARTHOLOMEW,
OLCOTT ALLEN,
JOHN C. PARSONS,
ROWLAND SWIFT,
PINCKNEY W. ELLSWORTH,
FRANCIS B. COOLEY.
EX-OFFICIO.
His Excellency, JOSHUA L. CHAMBERLAIN, Governor of Maine.
Hon. F. M. DREW, Secretaiy of State.
His Excellency, WALTER HARRIMAN, Governor of New Hampshire.
Hon. JOHN D. LYMAN, Secretary of State.
His Excellency, JOHN B. PAGE, Governor of Vermont.
Hon. GEORGE NICHOLS, Secretary of State.
His Excellency, ALEXANDER H. BULLOCK, Governor of Massachusetts.
Hon. OLIVER WARNER, Secretary of State.
His Excellency, AMBROSE E. BURNSIDE, Governor of Rhode Island.
Hon. JOHN R. BARTLETT, Secretary of State.
His Excellency, JAMES E, ENGLISH, Governor of Connecticut.
Hon. LEVERETT E. PEASE, Secretary of State.
SECRETARY.
JOHN C. PARSONS.
TREASURER.
ROLAND MATHER.
��©Sow an4 Teaslws
PRINCIPAL.
Rev. COLLINS STONE, M. A.
INSTRUCTOR OF THE GALLAUDET SCIENTIFIC SCHOOL.
JOHN C. BULL, M. A.
INSTRUCTORS.
DAVID E. BARTLETT, M. A.
JOHN R. KEEP, M. A.
RICHARD S. STORRS, M.. A.
EDWARD C. STONE, M. A.
JOB WILLIAMS, M. A.
ABEL S. CLARK, B. A.
WILSON WELTON.
WILLIAM H. WEEKS.
MARY A. MANN.
SARAH W. STORRS.
CATHARINE BLAUVELT.
TEACHER OF DRAWING.
Miss LOUISE STONE.
ATTENDING PHYSICIAN.
E. K. HUNT, M. D.
STEWARD.
HENRY KENNEDY.
ASSISTANT STEWARD.
SALMON CROSSETT.
MATRON.
Mrs. PHEBE C. WHITE.
ASSISTANT MATRONS.
Mrs. REBECCA A. CADY.
Miss NANCY DILLINGHAM.
RUEUS LEWIS, Master
of the
Cabinet Shop.
WILLIAM B. FLAGG, Master of
the
Shoe Shop.
Miss MARGARET GREENLAW, Mistress
of the
Tailors’ Shop.
��REPORT OF THE DIRECTORS.
To the Patrons and Friends of the American Asylum.
Since the Asylum has entered on the second half century of
its existence, we have been frequently called to deplore the death
of some of its earliest friends. But seldom has any loss been
so marked and irreparable as that which we have suffered by
the death of our late President, Hon. William W. Ellsworth,
in January, 1868. His election to the office was not a tribute
simply to his abilities, his honored name, his political and judi
cial positions, his ripe age or his moral worth, though all these
claims he had to our reverence and esteem.
But he had been, from its inception, a warm and devoted
friend of the Asylum. He was its first Secretary. He was
then a Director. Retiring from the Board under the pressure of
professional and political life, he was again brought into official
relations with the Institution, while for four years Governor of
this State., When in 1862, the office of President was vacated
by the death of Judge Williams, it seemed naturally and fitly to
devolve upon Judge Ellsworth. His associates in this body will
not soon forget with what dignity, conscientiousness, and earn
estness, he discharged his duties as President. A copy of the
resolutions on the occasion of Judge Ellsworth’s death, passed
at an informal meeting of the Directors, is appended to this
Report
At the annual meeting of this Corporation in 1867, its by
laws were so amended as to constitute the Governors and Secre
taries of all the New England States ex-officio members of the
2
�10
Board of Directors. The doubt then expressed, whether non
resident Directors would find it practicable to attend our meet
ings, has been confirmed. But, these gentlemen have generally
manifested by letter, or in personal interviews with the Princi
pal and pupils, or by visits at the Asylum, such a warm inter
est in its welfare, as greatly to gratify and encourage the officers,
instructors and pupils of the institution.
No special or extraordinary action on the part of the Board
has been required since our last Report All the departments
of supervision and instruction have been satisfactorily filled', and
the accompanying Reports show the results of patient labor in a
year of unusual prosperity.
To the Report of the Treasurer, should be added the fact that
the Asylum is still deprived of any income from its Phoenix
Bank stock. We regret that no settlement of the questions in
dispute has yet been reached, but think we may reasonably an
ticipate an adjustment at an early day.
In behalf of the Directors,
JOHN C. PARSONS, Clerk
Hartford, May 9th, 1868.
�RESOLUTIONS.
At an informal meeting of the Directors of the American
Asylum at Hartford, for the Education and Instruction of the
Deaf and Dumb, held at their office on the 18th day of January,
A. D. 1868, James B. Hosmer, Esq., Senior Vice President in
the chair,
THE FOLLOWING RESOLUTIONS WERE ADOPTED.
God in his Providence having removed by death the Hon.
William W. Ellsworth, the President of this Society, and one
of the original corporators, of the Asylum,
Resolved, That as members of this Board, we are called upon
in his decease, to mourn the loss of one of the earliest and most
efficient friends of the important charity committed to our care;
one whose intelligent interest, active labors, .and wise counsels
have contributed largely to the career of usefulness and benefi
cence with which the Institution, during fifty years of its his
tory has been crowned.
Resolved, That we desire to place on record our profound ap
preciation, derived from long and intimate association with the
deceased, of his eminent ability, his spotless integrity, his sound
judgment, his warm sympathies, his genial Christian courtesy,
and of the rare purity, simplicity and nobleness which adorned
his character, and shone forth in all the relations of his useful
life; and while we feel his removal as a deep personal bereave
ment and a great public loss, we yet recognize the fact, that, as
ripened grain, he has been gathered, full of years and honors, to
his rest and reward.
Resolved, That in testimony of our respect for his memory,
we will attend his funeral in a body; that the clerk be directed
to enter these resolutions upon the records of the Board, and to
transmit a copy of the same to the family of the deceased, and
to furnish a copy to the newspapers of the city for publication.
J. C. PARSONS, Clerk.
��REPORT OF THE PRINCIPAL.
To The Board of Directors:
Gentlemen:—The number of pupils in attendance at the
date of my last Report, was two hundred and twenty-four.
Forty-one new pupils have been admitted during the year, and
one former pupil, making the whole number under instruction
two hundred and sixty-six. Forty-one have left the school, and
the number now present is two hundred and twenty-five. These
are arranged in thirteen classes, under eight hearing, and five
deaf-mute teachers, giving each class an average of seventeen
pupils.
While the general health of the family has been excellent, we
have to record the death of two interesting pupils, Myron W.
Day, of South Royalston, Mass., and Alvah-H. Harris, of Ne
ponset, in the same State. The former died on the 13th of May,
1867, from congestion of the lungs, following an attack of mea
sles, and the latter on Feb. 18th, 1868, from erysipelas. Both
were bright, promising boys—successful in their studies, and
loved by their teachers and companions. In the bloom of youth
they were suddenly called away; yet we indulge the hope that
the instruction they were permitted here to receive served to
prepare them for that unknown future they have so unexpected
ly entered. Mr. Arthur H. Whitmore, who had been a member
of our corps of instructors somewhat less than a yean, died from
quick consumption on the 26th of August last. Mr. Whitmore,
after teaching for a year in the Pennsylvania Institution, entered
upon his duties here with characteristic ardor, and proved him
self a skillful and faithful instructor. He was a young man of
pure and lovely character, and of great promise, and his early
death is a serious loss to the profession.
>
�14.
The position thus rendered vacant was filled by the engage
*
ment of Mr. Abel S. Clark, a graduate of Yale, of the class of
1867, who, by the successful experiment of several months, has
already shown a gratifying and satisfactory degree of aptness for
his new work.
The arrangements for securing the health, comfort and educa
tion of so large a family as ours, necessarily involve the most
careful attention. There are so many families personally inter
ested in these arrangements, that a detailed narration of the dai
ly routine of our household may not be unacceptable. The pu
pils, called by one of their number, rise at 5 o’clock in summer,
and at 6 o’clock in winter. Breakfast is served at half-past six,
the time before breakfast in summer being devoted to amuse
ment. At seven the boys repair to the shops (of which we have
three, a tailor’s, cabinet and shoe-shop,) where they are occupied
till a quarter before nine. The larger girls, divided into four sec
tions, engage in domestic duties. One class clear the tables, wash
the dishes in the dining hall, and make the beds; one sweep the
school rooms and halls; a third go to the laundry, while a fourth
engage in plain sewing, and mending their own garments. These
divisions alternate in their several duties once a month. The
pupils under twelve are excused from these arrangements, and
after committing a short lesson spend the time in amusement
At a quarter before nine the boys leave the shops and prepare
themselves for school. At five minutes before nine the pupils,
under the charge of a monitor, quietly, and in perfect order, pro
ceed to the chapel. The service is conducted by the principal,
or one of the instructors, and occupies about fifteen minutes. A
text of scripture is written in large characters upon a slate, so as
to be visible from all parts of the room. This is explained and
commented upon in a simple and practical manner, and a brief
prayer is offered. The entire exercise is in pantomime, or the
natural sign language of the deaf-mute, is intelligible to nearly
all in the room, scarcely excepting the youngest, and brief, sim
ple and practical, is one of great interest and profit to the pupils.
The profound stillness of the company, the fixed attention, and
the intelligent appreciation of the course of remark, as indicated
by the frequent response of the eye and head, are very impres
sive to those who witness the exercise for the first time.
�15
Making careful note of the chapter and verse of the text ex
plained, the pupils repair, in order, to the school rooms for the
instructions of the morning. These are interrupted at half-past
ten by a recess of fifteen minutes, and at 12 o’clock they go to
the dining room. The meal is eminently a social one, the diet
is abundant, varied and acceptable. After dinner comes amuse
ment, always in the open air, when the weather will allow. At
two o’clock school reassembles, and continues till four, when the
pupils go again to the chapel, in the same order as in the morn
ing. Meantime the text explained has been committed to mem
ory, and is spelled on the fingers by one of the boys, and also
by one of the girls, prayer following, and the exercise occupying
about ten minutes. The pupils are then dismissed, and the boys
go again to the shops, where they remain till a quarter before
six. All the girls engage for the same time in plain sewing,
dress-making, knitting, etc. Tea comes at six, and from tea till
study-hours—seven in winter, and till time to light the gas in
summer, is spent in playing, walking or conversation. The
younger pupils go to bed at seven, and the older pupils spend
an hour in study under the care of an instructor. At half-past
nine all retire. On Saturday we have no school, but the boys
work in the shops till eleven o’clock and the girls are busied in
sewing. Then follows the bathing, every pupil having a thor
ough warm bath at least once a week. The afternoon of Satur
day is spent in visiting objects of interest in the city, excursions
to the woods, or games upon the grounds of the Institution.
The boys are supplied with balls and quoits, and with skates and
sleds in their season, and often become quite expert in chess and
checkers. The girls have jumping-ropes, swings, sea-saws,
hoops, croquet, with sleds and skates. The little boys, when out
of school, are under the constant supervision of the AssistantSteward, who sees to their daily ablutions, mingles in their sports,
and devotes himself to their comfort and happiness. The Ma
tron and one of the Assistant-Matrons have special charge of
the girls when out of school, with the care of their clothing,
while the other Assistant superintends the kitchen department,
and house arrangements. The girls cut and make their own
dresses and under.-garments, do their own mending, make all the
�16
sheets, tablecloths, towels and napkins, and boys’ shirts, and
knit all the socks that are furnished the pupils. In the tailor’s
shop the little boys become expert in the use of the needle, and
make jackets and pants. The boys in the cabinet shop not only
learn the use of tools, but make tables, bureaus and desks of ex
cellent workmanship. Those in the shoe-shop acquire a good
knowledge of the trade, and become able to earn good wages.
Order is indispensable in such a community as ours. This is
secured almost entirely by moral means. The pupils, while out
of school are under the care of monitors, who note irregularities
of conduct, rudeness, quarrelling or graver offences. These are
entered upon a book provided for the purpose, and are reviewed
every month by the principal in the chapel. A pupil who has
received no mark of discredit for a month, thus showing entire
correctness of conduct, has his or her name entered upon the
Boll of Honor, where it will remain among the permanent re
cords of the Institution. In addition to this the pupil receives
a badge to be worn upon the person, indicating good behavior.
By this and other methods a strong influence is brought to bear
in the direction of quietness, order and correct deportment, and
the results are in the highest degree gratifying. Among one
hundred and thirty-five boys, many of whom have grown up
without the least restraint or control, ninety-three during one of
the winter months, received this honor, while the offences of the
others were mostly of a trifling character; and of the ninetythree girls eighty-five received a similar commendation. It is
believed that few schools of hearing children, of the same size,
would endure such a test with higher credit.
We have been honored during the year by visits from Gov.
Chamberlain, accompanied by his Council, from Maine, from
Gov. Harriman, of New Hampshire, from the Hon. Secretary and
members of the Board of Education, from Massachusetts, and
from the Hon. John B. Bartlett, Secretary of State, and Com
missioner for Deaf Mutes of Bhode Island. I have also had
the pleasure during the year, as Principal of the Institution, of
visiting the Legislative Bodies of all the States, of New Eng
land, accompanied by pupils in different stages of their course,
showing the proficiency they attain in the various branches of
�17
education and explaining our methods of instruction. The
Delegation was everywhere kindly received, and our rela
tions with these Bodies are of the most friendly character.
In the recent discussions respecting the best methods of edu• eating deaf mutes, we hear much of the French and of the
German schools. As these schools were the pioneers, and for
many years, the only workers in this department of education,
and as they differed materially in their fundamental principles,
as well as in their practical methods, there was an eminent pro
priety in the rival systems receiving their designation from the
countries where they originated. The work of deaf-mute edu
cation, however, has now been prosecuted in this country with
enthusiasm and with the highest success, for more than fifty
years. In no country in Christendom, are there more able and
devoted men engaged in this benevolent work, in none is it
more distinctly recognized as the unquestioned duty of the
State, no where are the pecuniary means and appliances more
liberally and cheerfully provided, and we are free to say, in no
country has the education of the deaf mute been carried to a
higher point, reached a larger class, or been prosecuted on a
broader or more practical basis than in our own. It is quite
time, therefore, and for similar reasons, that as we are beginning
to'have an American Literature, and the phases of a distinct
American nationality, we should speak of an American sys
tem of deaf-mute education. Though our methods do not dif
fer widely from some followed in other countries, they yet have
their peculiar features.
Our system is eminently eclectic.
Selecting the improvements and best features of other systems,
we weave them into one consistent whole, of the highest practi
cal utility. We challenge our brethren engaged in this profes
sion in other countries, to the noble emulation of bringing deaf
mutes to a higher plain of culture, of imparting to them a more
perfect use of the language of their country, of preparing them
more fully for the duties of intelligent citizenship, in fine, of
relieving them more completely from the pressure of their mis
fortune, than is effected in American Institutions, as the result
of the American system of instruction.
3
�18
The Report of the special Joint Committee of the Massachu
setts Legislature, (session of 1867) to whom the subject of deafmute education was referred, and before whom the rival systems
were so fully discussed, came to hand so late, that it could be
noticed only in the briefest manner in the last Report presented to
your Board. The conclusions reached by this able Committee,
after listening to a thorough discussion of the subject, were, for
the most part, those which were then advocated, and have ever
been maintained by this Institution.
Among the “ conclusions ” to which they arrive, are the follow
ing:
“ The sign language and manual alphabet can be taught to all
classes of deaf persons and deaf mutes, and are the most effect
ual means of communicating information to a large majority of
such persons.
“ Your Committee believe that to the majority of those con
genitally deaf, or who lost their hearing in infancy, it (articula
tion) cannot be successfully taught; but that it can to the major
ity of semi-mutes and semi-deaf persons.” p. 16.
The Committee place a higher value on lip-reading, and upon
the ease with which it may be acquired, than our experience will
allow us to do. Alluding, however, to the difficulties attending
it, they make the following quotation from a letter from a cler
gyman, who is himself afflicted with deafness.
“ In order to read on the lips of an individual, it is necessary
that he should speak plainly, deliberately, distinctly, and show
an expressive face. Those who wear a full beard, raise their
voices to a loud tone, speak with great rapidity, so as to run
their words together, are very verbose with long sentences, show
little or no movement of their lips, or keep the teeth closed
together, are seldom or never understood at all.”
They go on to remark:
“ That a small number only can be taught lip-reading by one
teacher, and that when learned, it can be made available only in
a favorable light, and at short distances. Your Committee
felt that at the several hearings, the deaf mutes present, if they
had been taught lip-reading only, could not have obtained any
clear idea of the proceedings, which they were enabled to do by
�■
the manual signs of Prof Bartlett, who acted as interpreter.”—
p. 17.
“
The Committee sensibly remark, with regard to the best
method of instructing deaf mutes, that “ it is a question of pro
portions.” All practical teachers allow,that while all deaf mutes
can be taught thoroughly and well, through the medium of signs, a
portion can be benefitted by instruction in articulation, and can
acquire a certain amount of intelligible speech. The vital point
upon which this controversy turns, is, What is this proportion ?
It is very clear that the line dividing those who can profitably
be taught to speak, from those who cannot, does not run
between children born deaf, and those who lost their hearing even
as late as three or four years of age. The ability to acquire
speech, is affected by other important considerations, such as
acuteness of mental perception, quickness of observation, flexi
bility of the vocal organs, and a retentive memory, any of
which may be wanting in children who have lost their hearing
at a comparatively late period. It not unfrequently happens
that when none of these disabilities exist, and the child can dis
tinguish and imitate the position of the vocal organs, the pitch
of the voice is so disagreeable as to render the speech acquired
intolerable. We are sometimes greatly annoyed by the harsh
tones of adult persons, who from a partial loss of hearing, are
unable to modulate their voices. When the loss of hearing is
total, the attempt at speech is often so discordant that it is seldom
made. We hold in the highest esteem the tones of the human
voice in all their wonderful and varied play and scope, if they
are modulated by a sensitive, delicate ear. But there are few
sounds in nature so intolerable, so grating upon every sensibility
and nerve, as those of the human voice not thus controlled.
There are some sounds in nature that we expect to be harsh and
discordant, and therefore, if unavoidable, we can endure them
with some degree of patience. But rough screeching tones of
the voice are not among these, certainly if there is a more excel
lent way of communication. When to this unpleasantness, is
added an unintelligible utterance which demands frequent repe
tition, taking into the account also, that to acquire this amount
of speech, involves a large expenditure of labor, which brings
�20
no other return, it is hardly a question whether the labor of
acquisition, is compensated by the benefit received. We hold
distinctly, that the natural signs of the deaf mute, for communi
cation on common matters, are not only more agreeable, but more
intelligible than a great mass of this imperfect speech, and where
persons can resort to writing, such speech, if acquired, should
be, in fact actually is set aside. The practical question, there
fore, and the one which in spite of all theories, will decide the
matter among sensible persons, is not what proportion of deaf
mutes can be made, by great labor, to articulate words, which
may to a certain degree be understood, but how many have
voices that will allow them to use their power of speech obtained
at such an expense. Taking into consideration the acknowl
edged loss of mental development involved in all cases in which
articulation is taught, the imperfection of the speech acquired in
many cases, and the chance that the tones may be annoying
and disagreeable, our experience has led us to the conclusion that
very few pupils, except those who are semi-mutes and semi-deaf,
can profitably spend much time in this labor. At the same time,
we fully concede that there are cases of congenital deafness,
where there is on the part of the child, a peculiar flexibility of
the vocal organs, and a bright mind, and on the part of the
friends, intelligence and abundant leisure, in which instruction
in articulation may be properly and successfully given. Even
in these cases, it is too tedious and uncertain to be made the
medium of instruction. It should be given as a means of
communication, and rather as an accomplishment, than as a par
ticularly valuable part of education.
The proposition we are considering, will be materially affected
by the language which it is proposed to communicate orally to
the deaf mute. German, Italian, or French teachers, may suc
ceed in a much larger number of cases, and to a higher degree,than
those who seek to impart the English language. If half the
number of deaf mutes can be taught to speak intelligibly in
these languages, and there is no reliable evidence that nearly
this proportion can be so instructed, it by no means follows that
a like proportion can acquire the same facility in the English
language. Our language confessedly presents peculiar difficul
�21
ties to the deaf mute; difficulties so formidable that those -who
have tried it, with scarcely an exception, agree with the views
already stated as to the number who can be successfully taught.
Mr. E. M. Gallaudet, President of the National Deaf-Mute
College at Washington, and son of the distinguished Founder of
this Institution, has recently visited the prominent schools for
deaf mutes in Europe, to notelaarefully their methods, and par
ticularly their success in teaching articulation. It has been
vauntingly asserted, and no little pains taken to spread the in
pression, that in consequence of this examination, Mr. Gallau
det has reached conclusions differing widely from those adopted
by his venerated father, and his successors in this school, that
he has returned to this country an advocate for material changes
■in the methods followed here, and finally, that his Report proves
that statements we have made respecting methods pursued in
other countries, are at variance with facts. To show how ground
less are such representations, we have only to allow the able
Report of Mr. Gallaudet to speak for itself.
We have maintained that articulation, as a medium of instruc
tion, has, with but one notable exception, been rejected by Brit
ish instructors and Institutions. What says Mr. G.’s Report on
this point?—The following is the testimony of Mr. Charles Ba
ker, the distinguished Principal of the Doncaster Institution:
“ The success hitherto attendant on the. efforts to teach articulation to
the totally deaf, is by no means flattering, and I do not believe there is one
Institution in our country which can produce a dozen pupils whose articu
lation could be understood by indifferent auditors ... I must therefore
decide against giving up the time now bestowed on the acquisition of lan
guage, and useful knowledge, by my pupils, to devote it to the specious
acquirement of articulation.” pp. 12. 13.
After remarking that at the Institution at Edinburgh, under
Mr. Kinniburgh, articulation was the original basis, Mr Baker
says:
“ To my certain knowledge, it early gave way to means more universally
applicable. Of the older Institutions of these Isles, about twenty, not one
has adopted articulation, except in the cases of those pupils who could
hear a little, or who had become deaf after they had acquired speech.” p. 50.
Mr. Hooper, of the Birmingham Institution, one of the oldest
in Great Britain,
�u Is inclined to coincide with Prof. Baker’s view, that the results of the
labor of teaching the great body of deaf mutes artificial speech, and read1ng on the lips, are not of sufficient practical benefit to compensate for the
necessary outlay of time and labor... in the case of the semi-mute and se
mi-deaf, it is the duty of instructors to see that all possible means are taken
to retain and improve what speech is possessed by the pupil. This is done
in the Birmingham school, but no more, in the direction of articula
tion.” p. 13.
Mr. Patterson, of the Manchester Institution,
“ Coincides entirely with Prof. Baker and Mr. Hopper. Although he has
in several cases taught it successfully to congenital mutes, he thinks it im
practicable for any large proportion of the deaf and dumb.” p. 121.
Mr. Buxton, of the Liverpool school, who has had several years
actual experience in this branch of instruction in the London
Institution, says:
“ Articulation was formerly taught in the Liverpool school to a greater
extent than at present. Now, only the semi-mute and semi-deaf are instruc
ted in artificial speech and bp-reading.”
Mr. Buxton mentioned that “many cases in his experience had
arisen, where parents of his pupils particularly requested that
their children should not be taught articulation. The reason for
this, is found in the fact that the artificially acquired utterances
of the deaf, are generally monotonous, and oftentimes disagreea
ble : so unpleasant evidently, in certain cases, as to lead the pa
rents of uneducated mutes to express the desire above referred
to.” p. 16.
The venerable Duncan Anderson, of the Glascow Institution,
who in former years had given much attention to this subject,
and had prepared a valuable manual for use in this branch of
deaf-mute instruction, says:
“ The experience of nearly half a century of personal deaf-mute instruc
tion had led him to abandon all efforts at articulation, save with the semi
deaf and semi-mute.” p. 16.
Again he says:
“ On looking back upon an experience of forty-one years as a teacher of
the deaf and dumb, I am free to confess that the few successful instances
of articulation by deaf mutes which I have witnessed in this and other
countries, were very inadequate to the time and pains bestowed upon
them.” ibid.
�23
The Rev. John Kinghan, of the Institution- of Belfast, Ire.
land,
“ Is as decided in his testimony against articulation as any instructor in
the United Kingdom. He deems it, to use his own words, ‘ worse than use
less in a vast majority of cases;’ including the semi-deaf and semi
mute.” p. 17.
The views of the Principals of the other schools in the British
Isles visited by Mr. Gallaudet, agree entirely with those above
presented, and similar opinions are entertained by the Masters of
several schools on the continent. The gentlemen whose testi
mony is here quoted, are among the oldest and ablest teachers of
deaf mutes in the world. Their lives have been devoted to this
work, and their writings and their labors have placed them in the
highest rank among the benefactors of this class of persons.
Mr. Gallaudet sensibly remarks:
“ The testimony of such experienced instructors as those now conducting
the eight schools declaring against articulation, coupled with the consid
eration that in the majority of them, it has been successfully taught, is en
titled to great weight, while the fact that it is where the English language
is spoken that such strong ground is taken, should not be lost sight of by
Americans.”
It will be noticed that views of British teachers as above ex
pressed, correspond with our own, that few, except the semi-mute
and semi-deaf, can profitably be taught to speak.
Although German teachers make this proportion larger than
this, it does not, in their view, embrace the whole number, or a
majority. Canon de Haerne, of the Institution of Brussels, Bel
gium, while believing “ that a decided majority of so-called deafmutes are unable to acquire any valuable facility in artificial
speech, holds that in addition to the semi-deaf and semi-mute,
about ten per-cent, of congenital mutes, may acquire fluency in
this method of communication.
Signor Tarra, of the Milan Institution, estimates the number
of deaf mutes who may succeed in articulation, at thirty per-cent.,
including the semi-mutes and semi-deaf, and also many who
could not talk readily with strangers.
Mr. Hill, of Weissenfels, who stands at the head of deaf-mute
instruction in Germany, says that out of one hundred, eleven can
converse readily with strangers on ordinary topics. Prof. Vaisse
�24
of the Paris Institution, gives the same proportion. “Out of
ten, the number who can converse with strangers on all subjects,
and with ease, will not extend to more than two, and often to no
more than one.” Of the more than one hundred teachers con
sulted by Mr. Gallaudet, only one claimed that success in arti
culation was the rule among deaf mutes.
These, it will be noticed, are the opinions of gentlemen who
are advocates of the articulating system. The usual average is
thirty per-cent., one placing it at fifty per-cent, and only one
placing it higher than this. Is it not highly probable, without
casting the least reflection on these worthy and able gentlemen,
that the unbiassed judgment of a candid and competent observer,
would make the proportion of clearly successful cases consid
erably smaller than this ?
Mr. Grallaudet states it as his own judgment, that from ten to
twenty per-cent, of the deaf and dumb can profitably be taught
articulation. As the semi-mute and semi-deaf constitute about
half this number, he would thus judge that ten per-cent, of con
genital mutes are worthy of such instruction. This we believe
to be a larger number than any experiment yet made in the En
glish language will warrant, nor do we think it desirable for the
sake of a possible benefit conferred upon this proportion, to sub
ject thd whole number to the tedious and exhausting processes
of artificial speech, during the first year of their instruction. Mr.
G. gives his final conclusions on this point, in the following de
cided language:
“ It is plainly evident from what is seen in the articulating schools of Eu’rope, and from the candid opinions of the best instructors, that oral lan
guage, cannot in the fullest sense of the term, be mastered by a majority of
deaf mutes. ... It should be regarded as an accomplishment attain
able by a minority only. . . . The numbei’ of those born deaf who
can acquire oral language is small, and their success may justly be attribu
ted to the possession of peculiar talents or gifts, involving almost preternat
ural quickness of the eye in detecting the slight variations in positions of
the vocal organs in action, and a most unusual control over the muscles of
the mouth and throat.” p. 53.
It is indeed evident from Mr. Gallaudet’s observations, that if
there has been any change in the views of teachers on the Con
tinent within the last ten years, it has been quite as distinctly a
�26
Movement towards the use of signs as towards articulation.
While in some schools in which the latter method was formerlydisused, a portion of the pupils are now taught to speak, in
others in which articulation was the sole method, signs are freely
used and highly valued. In place of the theory once quite
general among the disciples of Heinicke, that all deaf mutes of
sound mental development could be taught to speak, and that
inability to acquire speech, indicated a want of ordinary capacity,
it is now generally admitted, on the one hand, that a large class can
only be successfully instructed by signs, and on the other, that
they are an important adjunct in teaching articulating pupils.
With regard to the value of signs in the instruction of all
classes of deaf mutes, the opinion of prominent German teach
ers is emphatic and decided. Mr. Hill states his views in the
strongest terms. Speaking of proscribing every species of pan
tomimic language, he says:
“ This pretence is contrary to nature, and repugnant to the rules of sound
educational science. If this system were put into execution, the moral
life, the intellectual development of the deaf and dumb, would be inhu
manly hampered. It would be acting contrary to nature to forbid the deaf
mute a means of expression employed even by hearing and speaking per
sons. ... To banish the language of natural signs from the school
room and limit ourselves to articulation, is like employing a golden key
which does not fit the lock of the door we would open, and refusing to use
the iron one made for it. . -. . Where is the teacher, who can consci
entiously declare that he has discharged his duty, in prosponing moral and
religious education until he can impart it by means of articulation ? ”—
p. 29.
Mr. Hill acknowledges in the language of natural signs, among
a number of other particulars which he mentions, the following
excellencies:
—“ One of the two universally intelligible innate forms of expression
granted by God to mankind—a form which is in reality more or less em
ployed by every human being.
—The element in which the mental life of the deaf mute begins to germi
nate and grow; the only means whereby he, on his admission to the school,
may express his thoughts, feelings and wishes.
—An instrument of mental development and substantial instruction, made
use of in the intercourse of the pupils with each other; for example, the
well known beneficial influences which result from the association of the
new pupils with the more advanced.
I
�26
—A most efficacious means of assisting even pupils in the higher degrees
of school training, giving light, warmth, animation to spoken language,
which for sometime after its introduction, continues dull and insipid.”—
p. 30.
Of its aid in religious instruction Mr. Hill remarks:
“ It is particularly in the teaching of religion, that the language of pan
tomime plays an important part, especially when it is not only necessary to.
instruct, but to operate on sentiment and will; either because here this lan
guage is indispensable to express the moral state of man, his thoughts and
his actions, or that the word alone
too little impression on the eye of
the mute to produce without the aid of pantomime, the desired effect in a
manner sure and sufficient.” p. 30, 31.
We have no where met with a more appreciative exposition
of the real significance and value of natural signs in the educa
tion of the deaf and dumb, than these forcible paragraphs of Mr.
Hill.
We will close our quotations with the decided and emphatic
testimony of Mr. Gfallaudet in favor of the American system of
deaf-mute education.
“ It is hardly needful for me to say, after what has been said in this Re
port, that nothing in my foreign investigations has led me to question the
character of the foundation on which the system of instruction pursued in
our American Institutions is based. The edifice is built on the rock of
sound philosophy; its comer stone is universal applicability; its materials
are cemented by consistency and success, while for its crowning beauty it
has a dome of high educational attainment, loftier and more grand than
can be seen in the nations of the Old World.” p. 53.
We have made these copious extracts from this able and in
teresting Report, partly from the relation of its author to the
founder of our own school, and partly because the Report itself,
has been confidently quoted as a distinct condemnation of the
methods and principles which have been advocated here, from
the beginning to the present time.
We entered into this discussion at the outset, and have con
tinued it, with no partisan spirit, The principles upon which
our Institution was founded, and has since been conducted, were
sharply assailed. Our sole object has been to show that we are
not beating the air, but are working intelligently and success
fully to secure grand and important ends: that the methods we
adopt for this purpose, are sanctioned by sound philosophy, as
�well as by the experience of the most able men who have turned
their attention to this subject. We regard no Institution or school
as in any sense a rival in this good work, but hail with satisfac
tion every honest effort to help on the education, and consequent
elevation of the unfortunate mute. Wedded mechanically to
no system for its own sake, or for any prestige of antiquity or
association, we strive to give our pupils the best education which
science, skill and faithful instruction, under the best methods,
can impart.
The semi-mute and semi-deaf children who are sent to us, have
always received special attention. While by instruction, through
the medium of signs, their minds have been sedulously culti
vated, we have been careful to retain and improve all their pow
er of speech. This has sometimes been done by assigning to
this class a special teacher, and at other times by placing them
under speaking instructors, and holding with them constant oral
communication. We propose still to give these children every
desirable advantage, assigning to them a special instructor, if the
numbers will warrant it; if not, taking care, by other methods,
that the facility of speech which some of them possess, shall not
be lost. We deem this discussion as in all respects fortunate and
timely, as it has served to bring not only the real calamity of the
deaf mute, but also the best means of relieving it, more distinct
ly to public attention. We have no apprehension respecting the
verdict of sensible persons who will review the whole subject.
The newspapers* sent our pupils, for the most part weekly
issues from the vicinity of their own homes, contribute so mani
festly not only to their enjoyment, but also to their intellectual
progress, that they are worthy of distinct mention. Before his
education commences, the deaf mute is shut out to a great degree
from a knowledge of the events occurring in the world around
him. A happy change comes over him when, on entering the In
stitution, he is brought within the electric circle of intelligence,
and becomes informed, even through others, of what is daily
transpiring in the busy world. When his education is so far ad
vanced that he can read for himself from the columns of a pa
per the record of passing events, his interest is unbounded. It
/
* Appendix, No. TV.
�28
is often surprising to notice the extent to which even those
whose ability to use language, from the short time they have
been at school, is quite limited, yet are able to spell out the
meaning of a paragraph containing some item of news from fa
miliar localities, while the large class of more advanced pupils
read the papers with intelligent facility, and with far more enjoy
ment than is usual with hearing persons. The papers are regu
larly distributed, care being taken to supply the children with
issues from their own neighborhood. They are perused with
eagerness, and there are few communities more thoroughly posted
in the current news of the day than our own.
The walls of the Institution have received some graceful and
most acceptable decorations during the year. An excellent set
of the Cartoons of Raphael, presented by the Rev. J. D. Hull,
of New York, have been handsomely framed and placed in the
girls’ sitting room, where they are a constant joy to many observ
ing and admiring eyes. Mr. R. S. DeLamater, and Messrs. Web
ster & Popkins, have each presented us with a highly finished
photograph of the venerable Laurent Clerc, while Messrs. Prescott
& White, have furnished fine copies of the old and well engraved
portraits of those magnates of deaf-mute education, the Abbe
De 1’ Epee, and the Abbe Sicard. These pictures are finished
in the highest style of art, and as long as the Institution shall
stand, they will remain on its walls, speaking representatives of
these benefactors of the Deaf and Dumb, and of the skill of the
generous artists who have so faithfully perpetuated their memoryA citizen of Hartford, who is in the habit of such kind deeds,
but whose modesty prefers that his name shall be withheld, has
gained for himself a warm place in the hearts of our pupils by
the gift of two barrels of luscious oranges, to aid them in cele
brating the holidays.—Our acknowledgements are due to Messrs.
J. Gr. Batterson and J. W. Stancliff for the high gratification en
joyed by our pupils of repeatedly visiting the collection of beau
tiful paintings on exhibition at the Wadsworth Atheneum during
the month of March.—Miss Dix, whose generous sympathy for
the suffering and unfortunate, has gained for her so noble a rep
utation, has sent our pupils ten dollars, as an indication of her
interest in their welfare, desiring the sum to be spent in some
�29
way which shall contribute to their gratification.—Mr. J. R.
Burnet, of Newark, N. J., has sent us some carefully drawn
views of places in the Holy Land.—We are indebted to the
American Tract Society, of Boston, for the acceptable grant of
one hundred and fifty copies of the “ Child’sPaper,” and for
twenty-five copies of the “ Christian Banner.”—Hon. A. D. Ha
ger, of Proctorsville, Vt., has presented to the Library of the In
stitution two valuable volumes on the geology of Vermont.—We
are also indebted to the Hon. L. S. Foster for valuable Public
Documents.
With devout gratitude to God for His watchful care over eve
ry department of the Institution during the year that is past, we
invoke upon its future course His continued guidance and bles
sing.
COLLINS STONE,
Principal.
American Asylum, )
May 16,1868.
f
��REPORT OF THE PHYSICIAN.
The year just closed, adds another to the catalogue of those
during which the general health of this large household has
been usually very good.
•
There have been but two periods, and these of brief duration,
during which the pupils have suffered from diseases of conse
quence, or which affected any considerable number. One of
these occurred soon after my last Report was presented to your
Board, when measles made its appearance, and included in the
course of the outbreak about eighty cases. Several of them
were quite severe, and one died of congestive pneumonia, which
suddenly supervened upon the ordinary pulmonary symptoms.
The duration of this malady did not much, if at all, exceed
three weeks, ceasing, doubtless, for want of subjects.
Soon after the commencement of the fall term, an affection of
the eyes appeared in the form of acute ophthalmia, varying in
severity, but generally easily controlled, and soon terminating
favorably in most cases. It was confined principally to the
boys, very few girls comparatively, suffering from it.
The cause, though probably local, eluded the most careful
search, and still occasionally manifests its presence in a sporadic
case.
A case of malignant pustule occurred in February last, in the
person of one of the larger boys, terminating fatally in about
thirty-six hours from the time it was first seen professionally.
A single case of fracture of the fore-arm, occurring in a little
boy, concludes, it may be said with almost exact truth, the list
of ailments which have come under my observation during the
year, the usual acute pulmonary and other diseases so com
mon during Spring and Autumn, not having appeared, being
planted perhaps, by those before named.
�The Hygiene of the Institution, to which the utmost import
ance is justly attached, continues to be strictly observed in each
and all of those particulars to which reference has been had in
my former Reports, and which are so intimately connected both
with the health and the effective working capacity of the pupils.
E. K. HUNT, M. D.
Hartford, May 6th, 1868.
��,
.
“
“
“
T
T
•
•
I n s u r a n c e , .................................
a lbrf ry,
-
,
-
363.00
100.00
1,189.37
53,000.00
678.00
1.
“
“
“
“
“
1867.
April 1. By
1868.
“
P u p ils ,
—
---- 7
’
’
1
’
$104,566.86
_
Treasurer.
'
’
Ci
balance on hand,
sgp 27
Income from the fund the year past, 17 74217
Rent of Dwellings,
.
’
47500
Paying
.............................................
3 236.84
Receipts from the six N. E. States for support of Beneficiaries,
. V .
36 187 50
Receipts from Fund Account,
46 500 00
Advanced to A. Blodget Estate, repaid,
345 08
— ---- __ ------- ------------------------------------------------------$104,566.86_______________
Examined and found correct. We have also this day examined the vouch~
~
ers for the securities owned by the American Asylum, as per Inventory of
t iz x t *
-mr .
the Treasurer, and find them to agree with the same.
ROLAND MATHER,
ERASTUS COLLINS, ) A ...
T
T
JONA. B. BUNCE,
Auditors.
Hartford, May 16, 1868.
Hartford, April 1, 1868.
Sundry Expenses,
“ Reinvestments, “ Fund Account,”
“ Balance to Cr. of New Account, -
‘
u
..
‘
“
.
Paid Orders of Directing Committee, in favor
of Henry Kennedy, Steward, the
o , year past,
$28,500.00 April
“
for S a la r ie s , ....................................
20,036.42
((
Annuity to Laurent Clerc, - 700.00
.
A m e r ic a n . A s y lu m in a c c o u n t w ith . R o la n d . M a th e r , T r e a s u r e r .
u
((
1868.
April 1. To Cash
A BSTRA CT OF T H E T R E A SU R ER S ACCOUNT.
A F F E N B IX .
I.
�II. STATEMENT
OF THE FUND OF AMERICAN ASYLUM.
Invested in Bank Stocks in Connecticut,
“
on Bond and Mortgage of Beal Estate,
“
in Railroad Bonds,
“
in United States Bonds, Real Estate in Hartford,
Furniture in the Institution,
Cash on hand,
...
.
-
$94,100.00
88,500.00
23,900.00
7,000.00
, 82,522.88
5,390.00
■
678.07
$302,090.95
Hartford, May 16, 1868.
�36
III.
Dr.
ABSTRACT OF
American Asylum in account with Henry
To Flour,
“ Meal,
“ Cakes and Crackers, . “ Rice and Corn Starch,
“ Yeast, “ Hay and Straw,
“ Provender and Oats,
“ Live Stock,
“ Tools, Blacksmithing, &c.,
“ Butter,
££ Charcoal,
“ Hard Coal, “ Wood, “ Furniture, “ Groceries,
- •
“ Light and Gas Bills,
“ Meat, Fish and Fowl, ££ Medicine,
“ Miscellaneous, “ Pupils,
££ Repairs and Improvements,
£; Schools and Postage,
“ Cabinet Shop, “ Shoe
££
“ Tailor ££
“ Vegetables and Fruits,
“ Wages,
- ,
££ Washing and Soap,
££ Water Works, -
Balance to new account,
-
1 , -
$3,724.70
9.00
39.41
81.11
119.00
265.51
620.14
455.00
466.76
3.125.33
445.65
2.354.78
38.25
1,113.84
2,265.32
802.10
4,169.48
267.92
548.98
1,011.54
1.862.34
476.23
1.497.78
2,045.83
549.80
859.44
3,086.26
649.98
128.40
$33,079.88
187.83
$33,267.71
�37
CURRENT EXPENSES.
Kennedy, Steward, for the year ending April 1, 1868.
By Cash from Treasurer,
“ State of Massachusetts,
"
"
"
"
Rhode Island,
"
"
"
"
Vermont,
"
"
"
"
Connecticut,
"
"
"
"
Maine,
"
"
"
"
New Jersey,
"
"
"
"
Pupils,
"
"
"
"
Individuals,
"
"
"
"
Cabinet Shop,
"
"
"
"
Shoe
“
"
"
"
"
Tailor
“ "
"
"
"
Miscellaneous,
“ Balance from old account,
-
-
-
-
- '
-
American Asylum, Hartford, April 1st, 1868.
Cr.
$28,500.00
768.75
34.17
107.78
162.73
487.50
37.52
1,158.23
1,521.60
67.30
210.89
35.81
8.84
176.59
$33,267.71
�38
IV.
PAPERS, PERIODICALS, &o.
THE FOLLOWING PAPERS HAVE BEEN SENT TO THE PUPILS GRATUITOUSLY DURING THE
PAST YEAR.
Name.
ASgis and Gazette,
Weekly,
American Traveler,
Anamosa Eureka,
Argus and Patriot,
Boston Advertiser,
Daily,
Boston Courier,
Weekly,
Boston Journal,
Boston Transcript,
Burlington Free Press,
Burlington Times,
Christian Mirror,
Christian Secretary,
Churchman,
Columbian Register,
Congregationalist,
Connecticut Courant,
Connecticut Herald and Journal,
Deaf Mute Casket,
Monthly,
Eastern Argus,
,
Weekly,
Fitchburg Sentinel,
Hartford Courant,
Daily,
Hartford Post,
Hartford Times,
Independent Democrat,
Weekly,
Kenebec Journal,
Maine Farmer,
Maine State Press,
44
Massachusetts Spy,
44
Mirror and Farmer,
44
Natick Times,
New Hampshire Patriot and Gazette
“
“
Statesman,
“
“
Telegraph,
“ London Democrat,
‘ ‘ York Evangelist,
“
“ Spectator,
“
“ State Radii,
Northampton Free Press,
!Semi-Weekly,
Norwich Courier,
Weekly,
Portland Advertiser,
Portland Transcript,
44
Providence Journal,
41
Religious Herald,
Republican Standard,
Rhode Island Free Press,
Rutland Herald,44
Union Democrat,
Vermont Christian Messenger,
Vermont Watchman and State Journal,
Vineyard Gazette,
14
Waterbury American,
44
Willimantic Journal,
44
Worcester Palladium,
44
Zion’s Herald,
Editors and Publishers.
Where Published.
S. B. Bartholomew & Co., Worcester, Mass.
Worthington, Flanders & Co., Boston,
“
Edmund Booth & Son,
Anamosa, Iowa.
Hiram Atkins,
Montpelier, Vt.
Dunbar, Waters & Co.,
Boston, Mass.
George Lunt & Co.,
44
44
Charles O. Rodgers,
44
44
Henry W. Dutton & Son,
G. G. & B. L. Benedict,
Burlington, Vt.
George H. Bigelow,
Charles A. Lord,
Portland, Me.
E. Cushman,
Hartford, Conn.
Osborn & Baldwin,
New Haven, “
W. L. Greene & Co.,
Boston, Mass.
Hawley, Goodrich & Co.,
_______ Conn.
Hartford,______
Carrington, Hotchkiss & Co., New Haven, Ct.
W. J. Palmer,
"
Raleigh, N. C.
John M. Adams & Co.,
Portland, Me.
Garfield & Stratton,
Fitchburgh. Mass.
Hawley^Goodrich & Co..
Hartford, Conn.
Sperry, Hall & Co.,
Burr Brothers,
Independent Press Association, Concord, N.H.
------ “ Sayward,
Augusta, Me.
Stevens & "
True & Boardman,
N. A. Foster & Co.,
Portland, “
J. D. Baldwin & Co.,
Worcester, Mass.
John B. Clarke,
Manchester, N. H.
Washington Clapp,
Natick, Mass.
William Butterfield,
Concord, N. H.
McFarland & Jencks,
Dearborn & Berry,
Nashua, N. H.
D. S. Ruddock,
New London, Conn.
Field & Craighead,
New York City.
Levi S. Backus,
Canajoharie, N. Y.
Albert R. Parsons,
Northampton, Mass.
Norwich, Conn.
Bulletin Association,
Smith & Wiltham,
Portland, Me.
Elwelf, Pickard & Co.,
Knowles, Anthony & Danielson, Prov., R. I.
’ ’ i,
Hartford, Conn.
D. B. Mosely,
John D. Candee,
Bridgeport, Conn.
Providence, R. I.
Providence Press Co.,
Rutland, Vt.
Manchester, N. H.
Campbell & Hanscom,
Montpelier, Vt.
C. W. Willard,
E. P. Walton,
Edgartown, Mass.
Charles M. Vincent,
Waterbury, Conn.
E. B. Cook & Co.,
Curtis & Jackson,
Willimantic, Conn.
J. S. C. Knowlton,
Worcester, Mass.
Boston, Mass.
Haven & Rand,
�The Presidents and Superintendents of the following Railroads will
please accept our thanks for special favors shown to the pupils of the
Institution during the year.
Boston & Albany.
Boston & Maine.
Boston & Providence.
Concord, Manchester & Lawrence.
Connecticut & Passumpsic.
Connecticut River.
Hartford, New Haven & Springfield.
Hartford, Providence & Fishkill.
Portland & Kennebec.
Rutland & Burlington.
Vermont Central.
Worcester & Nashua.
COLLINS STONE, Principal.
Hartford, May 16, 1868.
�I
I
I
�V.
LIST OF PUPILS,
IN THE SCHOOL WITHIN THE YEAR ENDING ON THE 16TH OF MAY, 1868.
MALES.
Residence.
Name.
Abbott, W. John.........
Abbott, William W...
Acheson, Charles.........
Acheson, George W..
Aldrich, Erwin E.........
Anderson, Wallace E.
Bailey, Arthur E.........
Baker, Jesse H...........
Baldwin, Charles F....
Barrett, William S....
Bastinella, Oliver.........
Blodget, Frank P.........
Bond, Thomas S...........
Bowler, Albert 0 ....
Boyington, George W.
Branch, Degrand, D. L
Brown, Alpheus E....
Butler, John.................
Cain, Cornelius............ .
Campbell, John,...........
Carter, William T....
Cary, Daniel W...........
Chapman, Albert W...
Clark, Frank H.............
Clark, John ...................
Conley, James..............
Conners, John J............
Cook, Thomas.........
Coughlin, William........
Crandall, William F...
Crane, John E...............
Cronan, Stephen..........
6
Admission.
.. Sidney, Me., ......................... Sept., 1865
..Northumberland, N. H., ..Sept., 1861
..West Randolph, Mass.,....... Sept., 1864
.. West Randolph, Mass.,... .Sept., 1864
. .Smithfield, R. I.,..........
.Sept., 1864
..South Framingham, Mass.,.Sept., 1867
.Poland, Me., ......................... Sept., 1866
.Manchester, N. H., ........... Sept., 1867
.Litchfield, Conn., ................ Sept., 1864
..Plymouth, Mass., ................ Sept., 1865
. .Pittsfield, Mass., .................. Sept., 1865
.Nashua, N. H., ............ ..Sept., 1867
..Hartford, Conn., ............ .Sept., 1860
.Rockland, Me.,..................... Sept., 1867
..Prentiss, Me.,........................ Nov., 1860
.Hartford, Conn.,.................. Sept., 1866
..North Dunbarton, N. H., ..Sept., 1867
. .East Boston, Mass., ............. Sept., 1863
.Lewiston, Me.,..................... Sept.,. 1867
.Danbury, Conn., ______
Nov., 1867
.Boston, Mass.,.......................Oct., 1866
Gardiner, Me., ................... Sept., 1860
.Cambridgeport, Mass.,........... Sept., 1865
..East Hampton, Mass.,__ .Sept., 1867
.Monson, Mass.,.....................Sept., 1865
.Newport. R. I., .................... Oct., 1861
.Mansfield, Mass., ................. Sept., 1865
.Portland, Me., .....................Sept., 1865
Fitchburgh, Mass., ............. Sept., 1862
Newport, R. I.,..................... Sept., 1860
. Whiting, Me., .......................Feb., 1868
Fitchburgh, Mass.,.............. Sept., 1862
�42
Name.
Cross, Samuel S....
Culver, Samuel L...
Cummings, Daniel...
Cutter, George F...
Damon, Frank C...
Daniels, Orson.........
Davis, Edwin A....
Day, Myron W....
Derby, Ira H...........
Dougherty, Charles
Drew, Frank H....
Drown, Carlos.........
Duran, Edward.....
Duran, Thomas........
Ellis, Manford...........
Erbe, Hermann....
Evans, Oscar H....
Fahy, Thomas.........
Ferris, John.............
Fifield, Oscar W...
Fish, Charles...........
Fitch, Henry H....
Freallick, James F..
Frisbee, Edward W
Frost, Edwin F....
Gale, Arthur F....
Gambol, John..........
Gardner, William M.
Graham, Samuel....
Halsey, Waldron H.
Hargrave, Albert C.
Harris, Alvah H....
Hawley, Levi R....
Hawley, Lewis N..
Hayden, Othello D..
Helfpenny, Martin..
Hill, Willie L.........
Jellison, Simon.........
Residence.
Admission.
Beverly, Mass.,................... Sept., 1864
.Waterville, Conn.,.............. Sept., 1866
Greeneville, Conn................ Sept., 1864
.Irasburgh, Vt.,.................. Sept., 1865
.Amherst, N. H.................... Sept., 1861
.North Adams, Mass., ....Sept., 1867
..Auburn, Me.,..................... Sept., 1867
.South Royalston, Mass., ..Sept., 1864
.South Weymouth, Mass., .Sept., 1861
.Hartford, Conn., ................. Sept., 1863
, .Boston, Mass.,.................... Sept., 1865
.Browningtori, Vt.,............ Sept., 1861
..South Boston, Mass.,........ Sept., 1865
..South Boston, Mass., ....Sept., 1865
.Belgrade, Me.,.................... Sept., 1864
. Southington, Conn.,........... Sept., 1865
.South Royalston, Mass., . ..Sept., 1861
.Pittsfield, Mass., ................ Sept., 1862
. Waitsfield, Vt.,.................... Dec., 1862
.Deer Isle, Me.,.................... Nov., 1862
.Danby, Vt.,.........................Sept., 1865
.Preston, Conn.,.................. Sept., 1860
..Provincetown, Mass., ....Sept., 1865
.Charlestown, Mass., ......... Sept., 1866
.Boston, Mass.,.................... Sept., 1861
. Charlton, Mass.,................. Sept., 1863
. South Boston, Mass.,.......... Oct., 1864
.Hardwick, Mass.,................Sept., 1864
.Newark, N. J.,................. zSept., 1866
.Newark, N. J.,
..........Nov., 1863
.East Boston, Mass.,............ Sept., 1867
.Neponset, Mass.,................ Oct., 1863
.North Amherst, Mass., .. ..Sept., 1865
.North Amherst, Mass., .. ..Sept., 1865
.Stoughton, Mass.,............... Sept., 1863
• Waterbury, Conn.,............. Sept., 1864
.Athol Depot, Mass.,........... Sept., 1864
.Monroe, Me.,.......................Sept., 1865
�43
Name.
Residence.
Admission.
Johnson, George D............ Erving, Mass.,...................... .... Sept.,
Josselyn, Andrew P......... East Foxboro, Mass.,.......... .... Sept.,
Kendall, Phillip................. Whitefield, Me.,................ .........Sept.,
King, James H................. Middletown Point, N. J., . .... Sept.,
Ladd, Amos A.................. East Haddam, Conn.,.......... .... Sept.,
Ladue, Edward................. St. Albans, Vt.,................ ... .... Sept.,
Lally, John......................... South Boston, Mass.,.......... .... Sept.,
Laplant, Peter................... West Milton, Vt.,.............. ... .Nov.,
Leary, Matthew................. Boston, Mass.,...................... .... Sept.,
Lewis, Willie H................. Providence, R. I.,.............. ......... Sept.,
Mackintosh, George........... Canton, Mass.,.................... .... Sept.,
Marr, IraR......................... North Washington, Me., ... .... Sept.,
Marston, Westley N......... Greenland, N. H.,.............. .... .Sept.,
Martin, Charles H............. Salem, Mass.,...................... ......... Sept.,
Mayhew, Jared................. Chilmark, Mass., ................ . -... Sept.,
Mayo, Hawes...................... Monroe, Me.,....................... ......... Sept.,
McCarty, John................... Andover, Mass.,.................. .... Sept.,
McDonnell, John............... West Stockbridge, Mass., . .... Sept.,
McGirr, Francis................. East Cambridge,Mass., .. ......... Sept.,
McKinney, Wm. J.............Alleghany City, Penn., ... .... Sept.,
McMaster, Hugh H. B... .Pittsburgh, Penn.,............. .... Sept.,
McMechen, James H.........Wheeling, West Virginia, .........Aug.,
Meagher, Michael............... Waterbury, Conn.,.............. .... Sept.,
Miller, George................... Providence, R. I.,.............. .... Sept.,
Mitchell, Isaac................... Brookville, Vt., .................. .... Sept.,
Morrell, Leland................. Cornish, Me.,...................... .... Sept.,
Moseley, Joseph A........... Pomfret, Conn.,.................. .... Sept.,
Moulton, Thomas... A... Buxton Centre, Me.,......... ......... Sept.,
Muth, John.......................... Hartford, Conn., ........ .... Sept.,
Negus, Edward R............ Salisbury, Conn.,................ .... Sept.,
Nelson, James. ................. Tewksbury, Mass.,.............. .... Sept.,
*
O’Harra, John................... Milford, Mass.,..................... .... Sept.,
O’Neil, John......................Thorndike, Mass.,.............. ......... Sept.,
O’Neil, Michael................. Charlestown, Mass.,............ .... Sept.,
Ould, Edward C................. Derby, Conn.,..................... ......... Sept.,
Page, Roscoe G............. .. . Augusta, Me.,.................... .........Sept.,
Pattee, Wilbur D............... Alexandria, N. H., .......... .... Sept.,
Patterson, Charles.............. Saco, Me., . ......................... ......... Sept.,
Paul, John E..................... Cambridgeport, Mass., .... .... Sept.,
1862
1868
1865
1865
1866
1864
1866
1866
1863
1867
1864
1867
1864
1863
1864
1865
1865
1865
1863
1865
1864
1865
1865
1861
1867
1865
1862
1864
1865
1866
1864
1860
1867
1866
1861
1860
1867
1864
1867
�44
Name.
Residence.
Peterson, Willie S. H......... South Plymouth, Mass., .
Philbrook, Henry 0......... Charlestown, Mass., .........
Pick, William C................. Providence, R. I.,............
Pond, Nathan L................. Milford, Mass., ..................
Porter, Wendell P............. Somerville, Mass.,............
Powers, James.................... Boston, Mass., ..................
Powers, James A........... ,. Salem, Mass.,.....................
Pratt, John W....................Middletown, Conn.,..........
Quincy, Josiah....................Munson, Mass.,...................
Richmond, Ephraim H... .Voluntown, Conn., .........
Rideout, Charles H........... Houlton, Maine,................
Roberts, Frank B............... Boston, Mass., ..................
Rudolph, William............. Boston, Mass.,..................
Ryan, John.......................... Rutland, Vt.,....................
Sachse, Charles F............... Waterbury, Conn., ..........
Sackett, Charles E..............South Glastenbury, Conn.,
Saul, Willie H ..................Salem, Mass.,......................
Scoles, William M........... Augusta, Me.,.....................
Seamen, Mortimer W.... Rockville, Conn.,.............
Sharts, Herman H........... Hudson, N. Y.,...................
Skelly, Edwin J............... Rochester, N. H.,...............
Slattery. Patrick............... Boston, Mass.,................... .
Small, Albert A................. Auburn, Me.,......................
Small, George B............... Hartland, Vt.,.....................
Small, Walter R........ Hartland, Vt.,.................
Smith, Freeman N............. Chilmark, Mass.,.................
Smith, George................. Springfield, Mass.,.............
Smith, Orlando A............. Roxbury, Mass.,.................
Soper Isaac N................... Lowell, Mass.,....................
Sparrow, Wilber N........... Eastham, Mass.,.................
Stevens, William.............. Stonington, Conn.,...............
Sullivan, Patrick J........ Boston, Mass.,...........
Tufts, Samuel A................. Malden, Mass.,...................
Walker, Freddie............... Norwich, Conn.,.................
Wardman, Samuel ........... Ballardvale, Mass.,.............
Waters, Warren L......... .. Hartford, Conn.,........
Watts, Francis A........... Rockville, Conn,,...............
Weaver, Jonathan........... South Woodstock, Conn.,.
Webb, Clarence A............. Canterbury, Conn.,............ ,
Admission.
. Sept., 1862
. Sept., 1864
. April, 1863
. Sept., 1862
.Nov., 1858
. Sept., 1865
. Mar., 1862
. Sept., 1861
. Sept., 1865
. Sept., 1865
. Sept., 1863
. Sept., 1866
.Sept., 1866
. Sept., 1865
. Sept., 1861
. Sept., 1865
. Sept., 1866
. Sept., 1863
. Sept., 1866
. Sept., 1865
. Sept., 1867
. Sept., 1862
. Sept., 1863
. Sept,, 1865
.. Oct., 1862
. Sept., 1861
. Sept., 1864
. Sept., 1863
. Sept., 1861
. Sept., 1864
. Sept., 1867
, Sept., 1860
. Sept., 1865
. Sept., 1864
Sept., 1866
, Sept., 1865
Sept., 1860
Sept., 1866
Sept., 1864
�45
Name.
Residence.
Admission.
Wellington, Elbridge A .. Wayland, Mass.,........................ Sept.,
Wentworth, Sylvester W. Ipswich, Mass.,............................ Sept.,
Wheeler Staunton F..... Plymouth, Vt.,............................ Sept.,
White, Henry,................... Roxbury, Mass., .......................... Sept.,
Wilkinson, John................. West Lubec, Me., .. ..................... Sept.,
Winslow, John N............. Putnam, Conn.,............................. Sept.,
Wood, Eugene W........... Webster, Mass.,................. .......... Sept.,
1863
1864
1863
1866
1861
1867
1861
FEMALES.
Adams, Alda M.......... ... Charlestown, Mass.,............. .. .Sept., 1866
Annan, Josephine A...... Manchester, N. H.,.............. .. .Sept., 1864
Atkins, Sylvia B.......... ... Chatham, Mass.,................... ...Sept., 1862
Axt, Matilda................ . ... New Haven, Conn.,............. ... Sept., 1866
Ayshers, Mary........... . ... Hartford, Conn.,................... ....Feb., 1867
Barnard, Ada J........... ... Lowell, Mass.,....................... .. .Sept., 1865
Barry, Anna B........... . ... Baltimore, Md.,.................... .. .Sept., 1867
Bishop, Stella M.......... ... East Avon, Conn.,............... . . .Sept., 1866
Bond, Juba P................ ,.. Hartford, Conn.,.................... .. .June, 1865
Brown, Emily C.......... ... North Stonington, Conn.,... .. .Sent., 1864
Brown, Susan F...........,.. North Dunbarton, N. H., .. .. .Nov., 1865
Carey, Mary................... ,.. Boston, Mass.,...................... .. .Sept., 1863
Carroll, Mary E.......,.. South Boston, Mass.,............ ...Sept,, 1867
Case, Lillie A............... ... East Avon, Conn.,............... ... .Oct., 1867
Chaffin, Abbie L........... ... Worcester, Mass.,................ ...Sept., 1865
Champion, Ellen J .... .. Westmore, Vt.,.................... ...Sept., 1863
Clapp, Elmina D.............. Newburgh, N. Y.,............... . ..Sept., 1860
Clark, Millie H............. .. Biddeford, Me.,........ . .......... ... Sept., 1867
Cole, Lizzie M............... .. Concord, N. H.,................... ...Sept., 1867
Colley, Mary E............. .. Falmouth, Me.,..................... .. ..Oct., 1862
Corcoran, Ellen............. .. East Boston, Mass.,............. .. .Nov., 1865
Daley, Nancy J............. .. Chester, Conn.,.................... .. .Sept., 1865
Darghan, Joanna........... .. New Haven, Conn.,............. ...Sept., 1867
Dewsnap, Clara............. .. Lakeville, Conn.,.................... .. .Jan., 1863
Driscoll, Julia A........... .. East Boston, Mass.,............... . ..Nov., 1865
�46
Name.
Residence.
Dube, Adeline ....
Orono, Me.,...............
Duffy, Ellen.............
Boston, Mass.,...........
Dummer, Caroline L
Weld, Me.,.................
Dunnell, Manila ...
Buxton Center, Me.,.
Durbrow, Carrie B..
New York City,....,
Eaton, Mary E........
East Salisbury, Mass.,
Emerson, Gertrude A.... Danby, Vt.,......................
Fahy, Bridget..................... Pittsfield, Mass., ..............
Flagg, Clarinda J............. Natick, Mass., ................ .
Foley, Bridget................... Bristol, Conn., ................
Foley, Mary A...........
Bristol, Conn.,.................
Frost, Harriet E................. Bucksport, Me.,................. ,
Gardner, Rosa.................... Greeneville, Conn., ...........
Gray, Leonora C............... New Haven, Conn., ....
Hall, Elizabeth................. Portland, Me., ..................
Harper, Sarah L................. New London, Conn.,....
Hartshorn, Anna S......... .'. Boston, Mass., ..;............
Hichens, Mary W............. "Wellfleet, Mass., ..............
Howe, Eldora M............... Marlboro, Mass.,..............
Hull, Ida A........................ Plainville, Conn.,..............
Hull, Josephine D............. Farmington, Conn.,..........
Knapp, Sophia A............... Winchester, N. H.,..........
Lee, Mary J...................... East Longmeadow, Mass.,
Linnehan, Mary A........... Boston, Mass., ..................
Lovejoy, Lydia A............. Augusta, Me., ..................
Lummis, Delia A............... Pomfret, Conn., ................
Lyons, Ellen....................... Ludlow, Mass., ................
Marks, Sarah C.................Providence, R. I.,.............
Marr, Anna M....................North Washington, Me., .
Martes, Elizabeth.............. Charlestown, Mass.,..........
Mason, Flora S................. Bangor, Me.,......................
Mattson, Elizabeth............ New York City,................
McDonald, Catharine........ Boston, Mass., ..................
McDonough, Elizabeth A.Russell, Mass.,.................
McKay, Mary A............... River Point, R. I., .........
Meacham, Mary O............. Westfield, Mass., ............
Meacham, Morcellia A.. ..Westfield, Mass.,.............
Merrill, Frances J.............. Skowhegan, Me., ..............
Milan, Catharine............... Milford, Mass.,..................
Admission.
.... Sept., 1866
.... Sept., 1867
.... Sept., 1866
........ Sept., 1866
........ Oct., 1863
.. ..Sept., 1863
.........May, 1864
.... Sept., 1864
.... Sept., 1862
.... Sept.-, 1863
........Sept., 1863
... .Sept., 1865
.... Sept., 1859
........ Sept., 1864
.... Sept., 1863
... Sept., 1867
.... Sept., 1865
.... Sept., 1861
—. Sept., 1861
.... Sept., 1864
.... Sept., 1867
.... Sept., 1861
.... Sept., 1864
.... Sept., 1866
.... Sept., 1867
.... Sept., 1866
.... Sept., 1864
... .Nov., 1863
.... Sept., 1867
.... Sept., 1867
... .Sept., 1865
........ Oct., 1865
.... Sept., 1866
......... Oct., 1864
....Feb., 1862
.... Sept., 1866
.... Sept., 1866
.... Sept., 1864
.... Sept., 1865
�47
Name.
Residence;
Miller, Catharine W......... Thompsonville, Conn., ...
Monahan, Anna................. Lowell, Mass., ................ .
Moore, Eliza A............... .Derby, Conn., ..................
Moulton, Florette........... Biddeford, Me., ... ...............
Mulcahy, Mary E.............. Salem, Mass.,....................
Munroe, Betsey A............. Rehoboth, Mass.,.............
Murphy, Mary E............... Boston, Mass.,...................
Nichols, Marietta C........... Roxbury, Mass.,............. .
O’Brien, Mary................... East Cambridge, Mass., ..
O’Donnell, Catharine.........Stonington, Conn.,.......... .
O’Hearn, Eliza.................. Tewksbury, Mass., ..........
Peltier, Ella M............... * Cambridge, Mass.,............
.
Prince, Mary E............... Camden, Me.,....................
Perron, Clara.................... Yantic, Conn., ..................
Platt, Sarah E.................... Hinsdale, Mass., ................
Proctor, Emma J............... West Gloucester, Me., ...
Putnam, Almedia M......... Oxford, Me., .....................
Quin, Mary A................... Hartford, Conn.,...............
Richardson, Amelia A.... Mansfield, Mass.,.............
Richardson, Lauretta J... Mansfield, Mass.,..............
Robinson, Hattie J............. Freedom, Me., ..................
Rounds, Sylvia D............... Greene, R. I.,..................
Sanborn, Hester E............. East Wilton, M^e.,.......
Sargent, Lizzie M.............. Concord, N. H.,................
Scoles, Rachel A............... Augusta, Me.,....................
Smith, Mary J................... East Hartford, Conn., ...
Soper, Ella J..................... Lowell, Mass.,...................
Spillane, Mary................... East Boston, Mass.,..........
Stevens, Mary A............... Gloucester, Mass.,............
Stone, Sally E.................. Natick, Mass.,.....................
Stuart, Harriet N............... Wells, Me., .......................
Swett, Persis H................. Henniker, N. JI., ............
Taft, Marion L................... Worcester, Mass.,..............
Talcott, Lillia M................. Bolton, Conn., ................ ..
Teele, Sarah F................... Somerville, Mass.,............ .
Tilton, Ellen L....................Cheshire, Mass.,................
Turner, Lucy M................ South Coventry, Conn., ..
Tisdale, Jennie M............... North Bridgewater, Mass.,
Vincent, Emma A............. South Adams, Mass., ....
Admission.
.... Sept., 1862
.... Sept., 1867
.... Sept., 1863
.... Sept., 1864
.... Sept., 1865
.... Sept., 1862
.... Sept., 1862
.... Sept., 1865
.... Sept., 1865
.... Sept., 1860
.... Sept., 1864
.... Sept., 1863
.... Sept., 1860
.... Sept., 1867
.... Sept., 1865
.... Sept., 1866
....May, 1862
.... Sept., 1861
.... Oct., 1866
.... Sept., 1862
.... Sept., 1853
.... Sept., 1862
.... Sept., 1867
.... Sept., 1867
... Sept., 1864
... Sept., 1865
... Sept., 1866
.. .Nov., 1865
... Sept., 1867
.. .Sept., 1865
.... Oct., 1867
.... Oct., 1863
... Sept., 1864
.... Oct., 1866
... .Sept., 1862
... Sept., 1864
,... Dec., 1864
... Sept., 1866
... Sept., 1863
�48
Name.
Residence.
Admission.
Walsh, Margaret........... .. .Norwich, Conn., ......... .............. Sept.,
Wentworth, Ella J... . ... Ipswich, «Mass.,............. ............... Sept.,
West, Anna J.............. ... Coventry, R. I.,........... .............. Sept.,
Westgate, Abby.......... ... Warren, R. I.,............. .............. Sept.,
Whitney, Hattie M... ... Gray, Me.,...................... ,............. Sept.,
Willey, Florence H... ... Lockport, N. Y., ......... .............. Sept.,
Wing, Nancy A........... ., .Wayne, Me.,................. ...............Sept.,
York, Mellissa J.......... ... Gilmanton, N. H., .... .............. Sept.,
1866
1866
1857
1864
1867
1866
1867
1864
SUMMARY.
Males.
10
22
8
11
67
- 6
28
3
—
155
Whole number in attendance within the year, Greatest number at any one time,
Average attendance during the year,
-
Females.
Total.
11
21
6
2
45
4
22
0
—
Ill
■
21
43
14
13
112
10
50
3
-
-
-
Supported by Friends, u
Maine,
a
New Hampshire,
u
V ermont,
u
Massachusetts,
a
Rhode Island,
u
Connecticut,
u
New Jersey,
—
-
266
266
229
226
�VI.
COMPOSITIONS.
It is a rule of the school that specimens of composition published in our annual Reports, and
also the letters sent at stated times to the friends of our pupils, shall receive no correction,
except such as their respective authors can make on a careful review when the errors they
contain are pointed out by a teacher.
STORIES.
A lady goes into a store. She buys a pretty box. She carries the box
to her home. She gives the box to her little girl. The girl opens the box.
She finds a doll in it. She is very happy.
Two boys take a large bag. They go to the woods. They see some nuts
on a tree. They throw stones at the nuts. The nuts fall. The boys put
the nuts into the bag. They leave the woods. A dog chases them. They
run. They lose all the nuts.
A girl takes a basket. She puts the basket on her arm. She goes to an
apple tree. She finds some red apples under the tree. She puts the apples
into her basket. She carries the basket into the house. She gives the
apples to her mother. Her mother makes some pies.
Harteord, May 5th, 1868.
My Dear Father and Mother:—I am very well. I am happy. The
Asylum is large. Many boys and girls are here. The boys play ball, the
girls jump rope. I like bread and butter. I like sugar and milk and cof
fee. I write in the school. Mr. S. rides on a white horse. Mr. Clark car
ries Master Clark on his shoulder. I see a lady riding on a white horse.
I am eight years old. Mrs. White gives some stockings out of a drawer to
Master Clark. Mr. Kennedy chases Master Clark. I hide behind a door.
7
�50
I see three little pigs in a barrel. I love my father and my mother. They
are very kind. I hope my father and my mother are well.
I am your affectonate son,
F. H. C.
Lost hearing at two years. In school eight months.
Hartford, May 8th, 1868.
My Dear Father and Mother :—I live in the Asylum. There are some
trees near the Asylum. It is pleasant now. The grass is green. The flow
ers are growing. I like flowers. They are very pretty. In school we write
slates. In the morning I wash my face and comb my hair. I Work in the
shop. I sew shoes. A deaf and dumb girl finds a little pigeon. She car
ries the pigeon into the Asylum. Mrs. White gives some bread to the
pigeon. Mr. Kennedy sees a rat. He calls his dog. The dog chases the
rat and kills it. Mr. S. rides on a white horse. I love my father and my
mother. I send my love to all.
I am your affectionate son,
F. P. B.
Lost hearing at three. In school eight months.
A hunter.
A few years ago a wise man went to the city. He went into a store. He
bought a gun and some powder and shot. He put the powder and shot
into his pocket. He took his gun and put the gun on his shoulder. He
went to a depot. He went into the cars. He went to A. in a steamboat.
He went to a forest. He walked through the woods. He saw a bear on a
large tree. He put the powder and shot into the gun. He loaded the gun
with a ramrod. He shot the bear. The bear fell to the ground. He was
very glad that the bear fell to the ground. He went to the bear. He car
ried the bear to a river and threw it into the river. He went to the woods.
He saw a deer sleeping. He put the powder and shot into the gun. He
loaded the gun with the ramrod. He shot the deer. He went to the deer.
He carried it to the steamboat. He put it on the steamboat. He went
into the steamboat. He went to Boston in the steamboat. He took the
deer out of the steamboat. He put the deer on a wagon. He rode in the
wagon home. He took the deer out of the wagon. He carried it into a
house. He showed the deer to my mother and brother and sister and
father. My brother and sister and mother and father were very glad that
the deer was dead. His wife cooked some venison. My brother and sister
and father and mother liked to eat some venison. He gave the deer to my
father.. My father thanked the wise man. He was very glad that the wise
man gave the deer to my father.
‘yy. p
Lost hearing at 2 years. In school 16 mos.
�51
Stories ok monkeys.
Several years ago a man lived in South America. He made some baskets.
One day he picked them and tied them together. He carried them to the
city and sold them. He got money. He went into another store. He
bought some hats and caps. He started for home. He walked through
the woods. After walking one or two hours, he was very tired. He put
the hats and caps on the ground under a cocoa-nut tree. He lay on the
ground and fell asleep. While he was sleeping some monkeys saw the man
sleeping. The monkeys climbed down the tree and went to him. The
monkeys stole them and took them. The monkeys put them on and
climbed up. When he awoke he looked for his hats and caps. Soon he
saw the monkeys put them on. He was provoked. He shook his fist at
the monkeys. The monkeys shook their fists at the man. He threw some
stones to the monkeys and the monkeys threw cocoa-nuts to the man. He
threw his hat. The monkeys threw the hats and caps on the ground. He
picked them and tied them together. He carried them home and was very
glad to get them.
Many years ago a clergyman lived in England. He had a monkey. One
day he wrote a sermon to prepare for the next day. The monkey came to
him. He told the monkey that it should not go to church. The monkey
told him that it should go to church. The next day he put clean clothes
on and his wife also put clean clothes on. He offered his arm to his wife
and went to church. He told his wife to sit down. He went into the pul
pit. By and by he was warm and rested for a few minutes. He prayed to
God. Many people sang. He preached the sermon. The monkey came
up and sat on the sounding-board over the pulpit. It heard him preaching
the sermon. It saw him making his gestures. It imitated his gestures.
The people saw the monkey on the sounding-board and laughed at it. He
saw the people laughing and asked them why they laughed at him. One
of the people told him that it preached like him. He told his servant to
go up and catch it. So he went up and caught it and carried it home. At
noon the people went away.
M. J. S.
Congenital. In school three years.
A GENEROUS MAN.
Many years ago, there were two students in a College in Athens. One ,
student was named Septimius and he was a native of Rome. The other
student was named Alcander and he was a native of Athens. Alcander
was the most eloquent speaker. Septimius’ was a strong reasoner. Al
cander saw a beautiful lady. Her name was Hypatia. He wished to marry
her. He admired her. He wished to introduce Septimius to Hypatia.
«
�52
*
They visited Septimius and came into the house. The next day Septimius
was very sick with a fever and laid on a bed. Alcander and Hypatia
wished to visit Septimius. But the doctors told them that they should not
go to see Septimius. Alcander understood that Septimius was jealous of
Hypatia. Alcander gave Hypatia to Septimius to marry her. He was
very glad to marry her and the fever left him. He was very well and mar
ried her. They went to Rome. Hypatia’s friends were very angry with
Alcander. They seized him, robbed him of his property. He became a
slave. His master was very cruel to him. Alcander determined to run
away. He ran away and went into caves and slept all day. At last he
came to Rome. Septimius sat in a chair at court. Alcander walked
among many people. Septimius did not know Alcander. In the night
he took anum and went into the cave. He fell into a sound sleep.
Two robbers came near Alcander and quarrelled about some plunder.
One robber killed the other. He lay bleeding on the ground. The other
robber ran away. Many people saw the dead man near Alcander. They
seized Alcander and brought him into the court. They showed him to
Septimius. He found that Alcander was guilty. Septimius was going to
sentence him, when Septimius knew Alcander and kissed him. Many
people were surprised to see him. He went home with Alcander. The
other robber was found and sentenced.
R. A. S.
Lost hearing at two. In school four years.
AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
My name is Gertie Robin. Early this spring I built a new nest in the
branches of a tall ever-green tree, and I began to live in it, in the state of
Vermont. I am very glad to live in my new nest in safety. I always make
a nest in the country every spring, because it is pleasanter in the country
than in the city. I would be afraid of many bad boys in the city. I am
sorry that I begin to be old, and am tired of flying around the trees all
day. I often fly to my nest and sit in it and rest and sing sweetly. I am
proud that I sing sweetly. When I am hungry, I fly and get some worms
and eat them and then I sit in my nest again. Last summer I had four
little eggs in my nest and I sat on them a long time. In a few weeks they
hatched and I had four little birds. Then I flew away to get some worms
for them, and I fed them to my young ones. In the evening I put my
young ones in my nest and they slept under my wings and they were warm
enough because I have many feathers on my body. In a few weeks I
taught them how to fly and then they flew away, and I missed them very
much. How foolish I was to teach them to fly. But I lived with them
again in South Carolina, which is a warm country. We all went there last
Fall. They do not live near me now. I told them that I must make a
new nest here this spring. Perhaps I shall have four more eggs by and by.
�53
I shall be glad to have some new young ones. But I almost died yester
day. I happened to sit on the fence in the garden. How careless I was I
A wild grey cat came near me and caught me, but I pecked his head with
my sharp bill and he was afraid and I flew away. By and by I shall fly
away to South Carolina again and I shall see my friends. They will be
very glad to see me. I shall ask them “ Do you wish me to tell you about
the North?” They will say “Yes.” Then I shall tell them about the
grey cat. I shall be very happy to see them again. I am very proud be
cause I have two black and beautiful eyes. I am proud because you ad
mire me. Will you please to give me some crumbs of bread, and I will
sing to you.
G. A. E.
Congenital. In school three years.
DREAMS.
Our dreams are not sure and they do not tell us truly—But they are
sometimes funny. Our Heavenly Father, who is very wise and good,
makes us dream. It is very wonderful. I suppose our souls go out of our
bodies and work and travel, as we do, while we are lying on our beds at
night. We do not know what our dreams will be, and we cannot stop the
dreams because God makes us dream steadily. Our dreams tell us many
lies and many funny stories in the night. I will tell you some of my
dreams. About a month ago I dreamed that it snowed very much, so that
it was very deep, and I took my books in a little leather bag, and put on a
pair of my Father’s boots and bade my family good-bye and said to them
that I was going to school on the top of the snow. While I was walking,
I saw a large bear following me. I tried to walk very fast, but I fell many
times for I dreamed that the road was perpendicular, so that the bear
caught me and bit my body. I screamed very loudly, and my Father
heard me and shot the bear. By and by I awaked and my dream was aw
ful. I would like to dream my own dreams.
About a year ago I dreamed that many letters were in my bureau, and I
was very glad to get them but I awaked and found that my handkerchief
was in my hand, it seemed to be a letter. I was disappointed. Last
night I dreamed that I was walking along the bridge near my home and
met my friends. They were all surprised for I told them that Mr. S. had
expelled me, but I awaked and I was here in my bed. I was very glad. If
x Mr. S. should expel me truly, I should be very much ashamed.
MY WISH.
If I could have my wish, I would be a book. I would be a very large
book:—larger than these books. I would not be printed, but I would be
created, and would put language on it myself. I would never be worn out.
�54
If any person did hot take care of me, and keep me clean, I would not al
low him to read me. I would run to the good people and let them read
me always. I would be one of the wise books, and would cause the people
to admire me for my language which would be very simple and good. I
would be very useful, and would not want to have any person dislike to
read me. I would walk to people and speak my language, so that they
could hear me. I would shut myself when they had done reading me. I
would have one trillion of pages so that the people would never finish
reading me. I would not want to be on a shelf, but I would be on a table.
If any person forgot me, I would follow him, and walk with him, for I
would not want to be put in a trunk. I would never want to eat nor
drinkK but I would breathe and walk with people. I would want to have
people believe me, that I always tell them truly about everything which
happens in ancient or modern times. I would wish to live one thousand
years. I would want to go to heaven. I would not want to have any fable
books go to heaven. I would let the Bible go to heaven, because it always
tells the people truly about important things. Before I died, I would go
up and down, and would tell every person that this was the last time to
read me. I would let good persons go with me to heaven and read me in
heaven.
P. S.
Congenital. In School five years.
A WEDDING.
One day a bird whose name was Jenny Wren, stood on a tree. A bird
whose name was Cock Robin, came to her. He said to her “ Please may I
marry you ? ” She said “Yes.” Robin flew away and bought a yellow
dress for Wren. He came to Wren’s house and knocked at the door. She
went to the door and opened it. She led him to the parlor and he sat by
the window and told her that he had brought a yellow dress to her. She
blushed behind her fan. He went away and met Lark and Sparrow and
said to them “please come to see me this afternoon for I shall be married.”
They told many birds. Rook, who was a preacher walked with Jenny
Wren. Many birds came to their wedding party. Rook said to Robin
“Will you marry Wren?” Jenny Wren sung very sweetly. Robin mar
ried her and they were happy. They went to their house. Some birds
were on the tree and sung to honor Robin and Wren. Robin and Wren
ate cherry pies which were very sweet. After supper, they walked in the
woods. Sparrow was jealous of them. He had his arrows and bows and
shot Robin so that he died. Jenny Wren wept for him. She pulled the
arrow from his heart. When the birds heard that Robin was dead, they
mourned. They carried him to his house and put him in a beautiful coflin
and had a funeral. Then they caught Sparrow and hanged him. Poor
Widow Jenny Wren.
E. H.
Lost hearing at two and a half years. In school five years.
�55
MY WISH.
If I could have my wish, I would be a noble oak tree. Yes ! Such as
shelters the weary traveller from the mid-day sun. Such as the weary cat
tle find rest under, and such a tree as is honored above all trees. I would,
on first coming into the world, be a small shoot, not one-third as thick as
my little finger, then I would grow on year by year until I became in gen
eral sense a tree, but only a quarter the size I intended to be. I should not
be much thought of until I had lived about one generation, then I should
begin to be honored. The oldest inhabitants, would tell their children and
grand-children of my life, of my nobleness, and how often they had
played under me in their youth, and fastened their swings to my thick
branches. Now they being too old to enjoy such things, should still love
to sit under me, and watch the young children play. Yes ! I should often
bring tears to their eyes, when I reminded them of their happy youth. I
would in summer clothe my branches with the thickest and greenest of fol
iage, and in winter give my greatest strength to my limbs, to help them
bear the stormy winds and heavy snow and ice. I should learn to bear the
cold winds and storms which would beat against me. I would learn to
bear them all as a young man his temptations, a Christian his difficulties.
I would show myself so proud and noble that every one would say “ Noble
oak! honored above all.”—Yes ! I would do all this and more; I would
show still greater ambition. I would spread forth my branches to the
North, to the South, to the East and to the West. I would outgrow all
the other trees in height, thickness and strength. I would grow on until
no body knew how old I was. I would be the grand old oak which could
bear a hurricane. I would be so great and fine that all who knew my age
and nobleness would say—“ woodman! spare that tree.” I would be the
noble oak under which many had told their tales of love, and confessed
their broken vows. Under which merry children had played and the aged
had rested their limbs weary with cares. The tree which birds could build
their nests in with out fear. The largest birds should rest upon me and build
their nests in my branches. I would spread my root out in the earth a great
distance. I would tell all the other trees, who had not lived half my age
of the past generations, of their frivolous fashions, their modes of living and
of their goodness and wickedness. I would teach them all to be good and
noble, and to shun all evil. None should want for shelter from the raging
blast or the scorching heat while I lived. I would do wonders if I was an
oak tree—such wonders as an oak has never been known to do before and
never will do hereafter.
C. D.
ASTRONOMY.
t
No one can look at the heavenly bodies through a powerful telescope,
without experiencing feelings of mingled wonder and awe. To the naked
�56
eye, the stars appear to be but mere specks dotted here and there in the
blue canopy far above us. Considering the immense distance of the stars
from the earth, it seems almost incredible that they can shine with such
brilliancy. But the stars are not in reality the insignificant objects that
they appear to be. When viewed through telescopes they are seen to be
very large bodies.
The planet Jupiter is said to be a thousand times larger than the earth,
and consequently is of great size. The earth itself is but a mere atom in
comparison with the enormous size of the sun. It has been proved to be a
million times smaller. A pinhead placed by the side of a large ball, would
be a good illustration of the different sizes of the sun and earth.
With the aid of large refracting telescopes and other powerful instru
ments the stars and heavenly bodies have been examined and studied. The
results of these observations arb truly wonderful, instead of the few thou
sand stars visible to the naked eye many millions can be discerned. The
faint misty specks resembling fog seen among the constellations are discov
ered to be composed of innumerable stars, very small in appeararance and
close together. The numerous stars called “ Double Stars” which are so
near to each other that to the naked eye they seem as one star are seen by
the telescope to be separated by immense distances.
By close inspection spots have been discovered on the surface of the sun
much larger than the earth. The light and heat which appear to us to
come directly from the sun do in fact proceed from self-luminous clouds
far above its body. These clouds bestow upon the earth more heat in sum
mer than in winter. This arises from the fact that the North pole of the
earth is turned towards the sun in the summer months and is turned away
from it in winter. Consequently this not only allows us longer days but
gives us more heat in summer than in winter. The sun which is really a
star, appears to move in a vast circle around the earth. But the earth in
reality turns about on an axis and completes a rotation in a day and night.
The sun is attended on its course by a system of planets. The planets are
movable stars which revolve around the sun, but the fixed stars are sup
posed to be suns which bestow upon other planetary systems the genial in
fluences of their light and heat.
Some of the planets shine with great splendor and brilliancy. There are
eight planets of which Venus and Jupiter are the brightest and most beau
tiful. These two planets are the most conspicuous of the whole planetary
system. The planet Saturn shines with a dull pale light, and-is of a dull
red color. Around Saturn and wholly detached from the body of the
planet, is a vast luminous ring, many thousands of miles in diameter.
When we consider the enormous size of Jupiter we are filled with great
wonder. It is difficult and perhaps absolutely impossible to realize the
fact of one of the stars being larger or even as large as the earth. Venus
which is the most beautiful planet in the whole heavens, is a little smaller
than the earth and can easily be discerned with the naked eye.
�57
Upon the surface of the planet Mars, large bodies of water and continents
have been discovered. The bright beautiful moon, by whose generous
light we are enabled to distinguish objects by night, though appealing no
larger than a ball, is of great size and has been discovered to contain
numerous mountains, by which its surface is much diversified.
The light and heat which the sun and other heavenly bodies bestow upon
the earth, furnishes a striking illustration of the goodness and benevolence
of our blessed Creator.
W. L. H.
IS IT RIGHT TO MARRY FOR MONEY ?
\Scene I.—A young lady's boudoir in a handsome mansion.—Afternoon.—
Lily seated in a deep bay window, embroidering.—Enters her intimatefriend
Mabel, in a high state of excitement.']
Mabel. Oh Lily! I have the greatest little piece of news to tell you.
The beautiful Miss M. is going to be married to that horrid Mr. T. and
nearly all the fashionable world is at the height of excitement, and only
think, there is a whisper that it is all for money!
Lily. Mabel! for money ! did you say it is all for money ? Well, it is
very foolish to marry for money. Isn’t it so, ma chere ?
M. Ah ! my dear, I am sorry to say I must differ with you in this. I
am in favor of marrying for money, provided the man is old and of a weak
constitution, and not likely to survive long !
L. Why, Mabel, for shame! How heartless you have grown—you who
used to have such romantic notions when at school. What has caused such
a change in you, darling ?
M. My dear girl, I have learned that such a thing as love, is well enough
for a brief time, but when you come to real life, you will find that it is a
different thing. How absurd it is to think of such a thing as love in a cot
tage, without the means to procure the common conveniences of life. Such
billing and cooing will do well enough for the sentimental,
“ But give me a sly flirtation,
By the light of a chandelier,
With music to play in the pauses,
And nobody very near.”
L. Indeed you are greatly mistaken about love. You talk as if you
never felt the pangs of true love. But if you knew what love was, you
could not help echoing my words: “ How sweet it is to love and to be
loved.”
\Enter a servant bea/ring a silver tra/y with a perfumed note for Lily.]
M. (Eagerly) is it from Miss M. ?
L. (Reading.) Oui, ma aime.
M. What does she say ?
L. She asks the favor of my company at her wedding.
8
�58
Jf. Shall you not go, my darling ?
L. No, dear, I must decline it, as I do not want to see her take upon
herself the burden of future misery, as I know this marriage will produce.
Jf. Well, then, my dear, I must go without you. You have such queer
ideas about marriage. Good evening.
[Exit Mabel.]
Scene II.—same room—five months after the wedding.
L. Now, Ma chere, hear what I am going to say. Well, I heard a rumor
that Mrs. T. is very unhappy and miserable because of her husband, who is
getting cross and unlovable as he is getting older every day, though he will
probably live many years, for he has such a strong constitution. What is
your opinion of marrying for money now ? [with a sneer.]
I am really sorry if it is true, but notwithstanding it has not yet
weakened my faith in money. Mrs. T. who was present at the late grand
ball at Music Hall, looked as happy as any one in the room ! besides she was
covered with jewels the gifts of her devoted lord. I am sure I did not see
the least traces of grief or misery upon her face. I think the rumor must
have been false.
L. But if you could see behind the curtain, you would think differently.
I suppose “ to keep up appearances” is her motto. I do really pity her, but
she knew better when $he sold herself for money.
Scene III.—five months later—Mabel and Lily driving down Fifth ave
nue.
L. Now, Mabel, did you see Mrs T. just now, in her splendid mansion,
flattening her nose against the window of the drawing room, with such a
despairing look—such a wild longing in her eye, that I know she has not
lived a happy life, in spite of wealth which could buy anything she wished.
The riches which she thought would buy happiness, are like the apples of
Sodom. Mabel, what do you think of marrying for money ?
M. hlLy dearest girl, I must confess that I have made a fatal mistake in
thinking that money without love can give happiness. According to Mrs.
T.’s confession which she made to me a few days ago, she says money, with
out love, is the source of the greatest unhappiness. She says that she would
rather be the wife of a poor man whom she loved, than the rich man’s dar
ling whom she hates. Therefore I hope we shall never be so foolish as to
marry for money.
Lily, E. D. C.
Mabel, M. A. McK.
�TERMS OF ADMISSION.
I. The Asylum will provide for each pupil, board, lodging and washing,
the continual superintendence of health, conduct, manners and morals, fuel,
lights, stationery and other incidental expenses of the school-room; for
which, including tuition, there will be an annual charge of one hundred
;and seventy-five dollars.
II. In case of sickness, the necessary extra charges will be made.
III. No deduction from the above charge will be made on account of
vacation or absence, except in case 01 sickness.
IV. Payments are always to be made six months in advance, for the
punctual fulfillment of which, a satisfactory bond will be required.
V. Each person applying for admission, must be between the ages of
eight and twenty-five years; must be of a good natural intellect; ca
pable of forming and joining letters with a pen, legibly and correctly; free
from any immoralities of conduct, and from any contagious disease.
Applications for the benefit of the legislative appropriations in the States
of Maine, New Hampshire and Massachusetts, should be made to the Sec
retaries of those States respectively, stating the name and age of the pro
posed beneficiary, and the circumstances of his parent or guardian. Ap
plications as above should be made in Vermont, Rhode Island and Con
necticut, respectively, to his Excellency, the Governor of the State. In all
cases, a certificate from two or more of the selectmen, magistrates, or other
respectable inhabitants of the township or place to which the applicant
belongs, should accompany the application.
Those applying for the admission of pa/ying pupils, may address their
letters to the Principal of the Asylum; and on all letters from him respect
ing the pupils, postage will be charged.
The time for admitting pupils is the second Wednesday of September, and
at no other time in the year. Punctuality in this respect is very import
ant, as it cannot be expected that the progress of a whole class should be
retarded on account of a pupil who joins it after its formation. Such a
pupil must suffer the inconvenience and the loss.
�60
It is earnestly recommended to the friends of the deaf and dumb, to have
them taught to write a fair and legible hand before they come to the
Asylum. This can be easily done, and it prepares them to make greater
and more rapid improvement.
When a pupil is sent to the Asylum, unless accompanied by a parent or
some friend who can give the necessary information concerning him, he
should bring a written statement embracing specifically the following par
ticulars :
1. The name, in full.
2. Post office address, and correspondent.
3. Day, month and year of birth.
4. Cause of deafness.
5. Names of the parents.
6. Names of the children in the order of their age.
7. Were the parents related before marriage ? If so, how ?
8. Has the pupil deaf-mute relatives ? If so, what ?
The pupil should be well-clothed; that is, he should have both summer
and winter clothing enough to last one year, and be furnished with a list of
the various articles, each of which should be marked. A small sum of
money should also be deposited with the Steward of the Asylum, for the
personal expenses of the pupil not otherwise provided for.
Careful attention to these suggestions is quite important.
There is but one vacation in the year. It begins on the last Wednesday
of June, and closes on the second Wednesday of September. It is expected
that the pupils will spend the vacation at home. This arrangement is as
desirable for the benefit of the pupils, who need the recreation and change
of scene, as for the convenience of the Institution, thus affording opportu
nity for the necessary painting, cleansing, &c. The present facilities for
travel, enable most of the pupils to reach home on the evening of the day
they leave Hartford. Every pupil is expected to return punctually at the
opening of school, on the second Wednesday of September.
On the day of the commencement of the Vacation, an officer of the
Asylum will accompany such pupils as are to travel upon the railroads be
tween Hartford and Boston, taking care of them and their Baggage, on
condition that their friends will make timely provison for their expenses on
the way, and engage to meet and i eceive them immediately on the arrival
of the early train at various points on the route previously agreed on, and
at the station of the Boston and Worcester Railroad, in Boston. A similar
arrangement is made on the Connecticut River Railroads, as far as to
White River Junction. No person will be sent from the Asylum to accom
pany the pupils on their return, but if their fare is paid, and their trunks
checked to Hartford, it will be safe to send them in charge of the Con
ductor.
�
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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The fifty-second annual report of the directors and officers of the American asylum at Hartford for the education and instruction of the deaf and dumb
Creator
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American Asylum at Hartford for the Deaf and Dumb
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: Hartford, Conn.
Collation: 60 p. : ill ; 23 cm.
Notes: With illustration of the building and the deaf and dumb alphabet. Contains list of pupils. From the library of Dr Moncure Conway.
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Wiley, Waterman & Eaton
Date
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1868
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G5186
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Disability
Education
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (The fifty-second annual report of the directors and officers of the American asylum at Hartford for the education and instruction of the deaf and dumb), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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Text
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English
Deafness
Education
Muteness
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Text
THE
CURRICULUM OF MODERN EDUCATION,
AND
THE RESPECTIVE CLAIMS OF CLASSICS AND SCIENCE
TO BE REPRESENTED IN IT CONSIDERED :
BEING THE SUBSTANCE OF TWO LECTURES DELIVERED AT THE MONTHLY
EVENING MEETINGS OF THE COLLEGE OF PRECEPTORS,
APRIL 11TH, & MAY 9th, 1866.
By JOSEPH PAYNE,
LATE OF LEATHERHEAD;
FELLOW, AND ONE OF THE VICE-PRESIDENTS, OF THE COLLEGE OF PRECEPTORS,
MEMBER OF THE PHILOLOGICAL SOCIETY, ETC.
“ Not to know at large of things remote
From use, obscure and subtle, but to know
That which before us lies in daily life,
Is the prime wisdom: what is more is fume,
Or emptiness, or fond impertinence,
And renders us, in things that most concern,
Unpractised, unprepared, and still to seek.”
Milton.
LONDON:
VIRTUE, BROTHERS, & CO., 26, IVY LANE,
PATERNOSTER ROW.
1866.
�°So each study in its turn can give rea
sons why it should be cultivated to the utmost.
But all these very arguments are met by an
unanswerable fact, that our time is limited. It
is not possible to teach boys everything.
“ If it is attempted, the result is generally a
superficial knowledge of exceedingly little value,
and liable to the great moral objection, that it
encourages conceit and discourages hard work.
A boy who knows the general principles of the
study, without knowing its details, easily gets the
credit of knowing much, while the test of putting
his knowledge to use will quickly prove that he
knows very little. Meanwhile he acquires a dis
taste for the drudgery of details, without which
drudgery nothing worth doing ever yet was
done.”—Dr. Temple’s Answer to Questions of
the Commissioners on Public Schools.
“ If we are to choose a study which shall pre
eminently fit a man for life, it will be that which
shall best enable him to enter into the thoughts,
the feelings, the motives of his fellows.”—Ibid.
“ All education really comes from intercourse
with other minds. The desire to supply bodily
needs and to get bodily comforts would prompt
even a solitary human being (if he lived long
enough) to acquire some rude knowledge of
nature. But this would not make him more of
a man. That which supplies the perpetual spur
to the whole human race to continue incessantly
adding to our stores of knowledge; that which
refines and elevates, and does not educate merely
the moral, nor merely the intellectual faculties,
but the whole man, is our connection with each
other; and the highest study is that which most
promotes this connexion, by enlarging its sphere,
by correcting and purifying its influences, by
giving perfect and pure models of what ordinary
experience can, for the most part, show only in
adulterated and imperfect forms.”—Ibid.
“The classic life contains precisely the true
corrective for the chief defects of modern life.
The classic writers exhibit precisely that order
of virtues in which we are apt to be deficient.
They altogether show human life on a grander
scale, with less benevolence, but more patriotism;
less sentiment, but more self-control; of a lower
average of virtue, but more striking individual
examples of it; fewer small goodnesses, but more
greatness and appreciation of greatness; more
which tends to exalt the imagination and inspire
high conceptions of the capabilities of human
nature. If, as every one must see, the want of
the affinity of these studies to the modem mind
is gradually lowering them in popular estima
tion, this is but a confirmation of the need of
them, and renders it more incumbent on those
who have the power, to do their utmost to aid
in preventing their decline.”—John Stuart
Mill.
“ We would have classics and logic taught far
more really and deeply than at present, and
would add to them other studies more alien than
any which yet exist to the ‘business of the
world,’ but more germane to the great business
ofevery rational being—the strengthening and en
larging of his own intellect and character.”—Ibid.
“ In nations, as in men, in intellect as in social
condition, true nobility consists in inheriting
what is best in the possessions and character of
a line of ancestry. Those who can trace the
descent of their own ideas and their own lan
guage through the race of cultivated nations,
who can show that those whom they represent
or reverence as their parents have everywhere
been foremost in the field of thought and in
tellectual progress: these are the true nobility
of the world of mind; the persons who have
received true culture; and such it should be the
business of a liberal education to make men.”—
Anon.
“ The ancient classics would not be worse, but
better taught in th'- highest forms, did the pupil
receive a more general culture in his early
course.”—Dr. Hodgson, “Classical Instruc
tion,” an Article reprinted from the Westmin
ster Review, Oct. 1853.
" It is the early age at which classical studies
are begun that, rendering the work at once
tedious and unprofitable, necessitates so terrible
an expenditure of time, and prevents their suc
cessful prosecution. Difficulties which are now
surmounted, if at all, with infinite labour and
many tears; details which are now mastered, if
at all, by children who can have but little compre
hension of their meaning and purpose, and but
little motive to mental effort, would afford only
an easy and a pleasant exercise to minds more
mature and better prepared.”—Ibid.
“1 claim for the study of physics the recog
nition that it answers to an impulse implanted
by nature in the human constitution, and he
who would oppose such study must be prepared
to exhibit the credentials which authorize him
to contravene nature’s manifest design.”—On
the Importance of the Study of Physics as a
Branch of Education for all Classes. By
Professor Tyndall.
“Leave out the physiological sciences from
your curriculum, and you launch the student
into the world undisciplined in that science
whose subject matter would best develope his
powers of observation; ignorant of facts of the
deepest importance for his own and others’ wel
fare ; blind to the richest sources of beauty in
God’s creation; and unprovided with that belief
in a living law, and an order manifesting itself
in and through endless change and variety,
which might serve to check and moderate that
phase of despair through which, if he take an
earnest interest in social problems, he will as
suredly, sooner or later, pass.”—On the Educa
tional Value of the Natural History Sciences. By
Professor T. H. Huxley.
. “ J’aime les sciences mathfimatiques et phy
siques; chacune d’elles, 1’algfcbre, la chimie, la
botanique, est une belle application partielle de
l’esprit humain; Les Lettres. e'est Vesprit luimtme; l’6tude des lettres,Jc’estl’^ducation gfinfirale qui prepare h tout, l’iducation de l’ime.”—
Napoleon I., quoted by Dr. Hodgson.
“ Wenn uns miser Schulunterricht immer
auf das Alterthum hinweist, das Studium der
griechischen und latcinischen Sprache fordert,
so konnen wir uns Gluck wiinschen, dass diese
zu einer hoheren Cultur so nothigen Studien
I niemals riickgangig werden.”—Gothe.
�PREFACE.
The following pages contain the substance, with some alterations and
additions, of two Lectures lately delivered at the College of Preceptors, and
the writer seeks by the publication of them the suffrages of that larger audi
ence with which lies the ultimate decision in discussions of this kind.
The question of the curriculum is daily becoming more and more im
portant. The demand that it shall represent, in a far greater degree than
it has hitherto done, the wants and wishes, the active energies, and in
short the spirit, of the age, cannot be, and ought not to be, set aside.
This claim, which involves particularly the pretensions of physical science
to be represented in the curriculum, is much strengthened by the con
sideration, that science furnishes, when properly taught, a kind of educational
training of special value, as a complement to that of language. The writer has
attempted to show, that science teaches better, that is, more directly and
soundly, than any other study, how to observe, how to arrange and classify,
how to connect causes with effects, how to comprehend details under general
laws, how to estimate the practical value of facts. Having, however, dealt
out this measure of justice to science, he maintains that the difficulties
which lie in the way of the attainment of these valuable results, by means of
school education, have not yet been overcome ; and that even if they were, and
science were fully admitted into the curriculum,—which ought to be the case,
—that the classical and literary training is better adapted to the development
of the whole man than the scientific, and should therefore take the lead. In
pursuing this argument, he has been led specially to deal with two fallacies,
which, under a variety of forms, are extensively prevalent at present, and, by their
evil influence, tend very much to hinder the cause which they are, apparently,
designed to promote. The first is, That because there is so much to know in
the world, we are bound to try to make our children learn it all. The second is,
That because there is so much to do in the world, we ought to force all kinds of
business upon children’s attention beforehand, by way of preparation for it;
in other words, that the onine scibile and the omne facibile (to use a barbarous
Latin word) ought to be comprehended in every good curriculum of education.
If he has succeeded in exploding these fallacies, and in making good his own pro
position, that all true education involves, fundamentally, training, and training of
a kind that is quite incompatible with the claims of any system in which accumu-
B 2
�IV
lation is the first principle, and special preparation the second, he hopes to
gain the thanks of all judicious and really competent authorities in science; of
all who mean by teaching science, training the mind to scientific method, to
habits of investigation, and the diligent search after truth.
There can be little doubt that the recent Report on the results of classical
teaching in our public schools, and especially in the case of Eton, has done
much to strengthen the cause of those who wish to see a reform in the curri
culum. Few men, perhaps, at the head of public institutions have ever stood
in a more humiliating position than that occupied, about four years ago, by the
Head-Master of Eton, who, being under examination before the Commission on
Public Schools, could only say, in reply to the following pungent remarks
of Lord Clarendon, the chairman, that he was “ sorry —thus allowing the full
force of the charges implied. “Nothing can be worse,” said his Lordship,
“than this state of.things, when we find modern languages,geography,history,
chronology, and everything else which a well-educated English gentleman
ought to know, given up, in order that the full time should be devoted to the
classics; and at the same time we are told, that the boys go up to Oxford not
only not proficient, but in a lamentable state of deficiency with respect to the
classics.”
It is not to be wondered at, that those who were before discontented with
the established course of study in our public schools, became, after such a state
ment of facts, amply borne out as it was by the evidence, so indignant, as to
demand, in the interests of philanthropy as well as science, that the system
which had borne such fruits should be not only degraded, but deposed. This
violent reaction cannot, however, be sustained. The abuse must not be con
founded with the use. It may be true that very little besides classics is taught
at Eton, and that they are not learnt; but this is no argument against either
the theory or the practice of classical instruction. But while the present
writer, who has had long experience in teaching, defends generally that theory
and practice, he believes that the time is come for such a modification of its
working, at least in middle-class schools, as will admit of the honourable intro
duction of science into the curriculum. It is then as a friend, and not an enemy,
to science, that he has endeavoured to clear the ground of some of the frivolous
and damaging arguments which theorists have imported into the discussion,
and to plead that it shall be so taught as to make it a real mental exercise.
Thus introduced as a coordinate discipline, it would prove a most valuable ally
in education, and take its proper place among the great elements which are
moulding the civilisation of the age.
4, Kildare Gardens, Bayswater,
July 1, 1866.
�THE CURRICULUM OF MODERN EDUCATION,
AND THE
RESPECTIVE CLAIMS OF CLASSICS AND SCIENCE TO BE REPRESENTED
IN IT CONSIDERED.
From tlie time when the idea was first con out by Wisdom to build her house upon. The
*
ceived of interfering with the natural liberty structure, however, then, and for a thousand
of children, and setting them down on benches years after, remained unfinished ; and even at
or on the ground to “learn,” the question of the present day it must be acknowledged that
what they should be taught could not fail to Wisdom’s house of education is by no means
be one of great interest. An inquiry into the distinguished for symmetrical beauty and
details of the various curricula arranged for completeness. In the rivalry which, not un
the purpose of instruction by the wise men of naturally, arose between these two courses of
the different nations of antiquity, would no study, it would appear that the physical or
doubt elicit much that would be valuable for strict sciences were usually defeated; for,
the purpose of a writer on the History of either from indolence or distaste, the founda
Education, but opens up far too wide a field tion of the Trivium, to which precedence in
for our present limits. It may, however, be education was considered due, was generally
observed generally, in passing, that the scien so long in laying that the pupil rarely reached
tific or practical element seems to have pre what was then treated as the higher course.
vailed more in the primary schools of Egypt, Practically, indeed, in the lower schools, no
India, Phoenicia, and Persia ; the linguistic attempt was made to go much beyond
or literary in those of Judea, China, Greece, “ Grammar,” which, in connection with the
and Rome. Exception may, no doubt, be study of Latin alone at first, and subsequently
taken to this general statement, which, how of Greek, with a little reading, writing, and
ever, I must leave in its vagueness, without arithmetic, formed the common course for
even a momentary effort to estimate the com English boys in the fourteenth, fifteenth, and
parative value of the various curricula in their sixteenth centuries. If the curriculum of school
relation to the spirit and character of the education is to be considered as reflecting the
respective nations which adopted them ; and spirit of the age, which, however, is not, as we
without even contrasting, as educational pro see in our own case, a fair criterion, it would
ducts, Plato, the pupil of Socrates, on the one appear that physical science was in those
side, and Alexander the Great, the pupil of times, if not altogether neglected, at least
Aristotle, on the other.
treated with indifference; for not only in
Descending, then, as at a leap, to the com schools, but even in the universities, the quamencement of the Middle Ages, in Europe, we drivials were, as Harrison remarks, “ smallie
find the omne scibile comprehended, for the pur regarded.”} This state of things, continuing
pose of teaching, in two groups; the Trivium, almost unaltered to the seventeenth century,
consisting of Grammar, Logic, and Rhetoric ; roused the indignation of Milton, who denounces
and the Quadrivium, of Arithmetic, Music, Geo
metry, and Astronomy. These subjects were de * “Wisdom hath builded her house: she hath
hewn out her seven pillars.” (Prov. ix. 1.)
signated by Cassiodorus, the literary adviser and I f Harrison’s “Description of England,” prefixed to
friend of Theodoric, the “ seven pillars ” hewn Holinshed’s Chronicle, 1577.
�“ the haling and dragging of our choicest and commended, too, by their much closer connec
hopefullest wits to that asinine feast of sow tion with the interests and happiness of mankind.
thistles and brambles, which is commonly set The fact cannot be denied, that our general
before them as all the food and entertainment school curriculum includes much that is not
of their tenderest and most docible age
practically available in the world for which it
while Cowley, rather later, pleads for the is by theory a preparation, and excludes much
initiation of children into “ the knowledge that is ; that it rests mainly on the traditions
of things as well as words,” and for the “ in and experience of the past; and that it does
fusing knowledge and language at the same not appear to keep pace, pari passu, with the
time into them.” Both these eminent men actual life, the feelings, and hopes, and aspi
constructed schemes, on paper, for revolution rations of the present. If these admissions,
izing the existing curriculum in accordance with literally interpreted, are to be considered
their views. Inasmuch, however, as they were sufficient causes for condemnation, the ques
in no respect themselves the fruit of the system tion is at once decided, and society has only
they advocated, nor recommended it (I allude to order the delinquent for execution without
specially to Milton) by their own practice, delay. Before, however, the matter is thus
the public generally seems to have attached summarily disposed of, the defendant should,
little importance to their views, and certainly and indeed must, in all fairness, be allowed to
showed no desire to adopt them.
plead his cause at the bar of reason and com
After their days, the established system was mon sense. In the case of this as of other
occasionally complained of (notably by Locke, time-honoured institutions, it will probably be
and Clarke, and more recently by Sydney found that we are not so very much wiser
Smith); but within the last fifty years, various than our fathers as we may at first sight be
causes have tended to strengthen the assailants disposed to flatter ourselves. The very fact of
and give piquancy to the strife ; and at the pre the antiquity of an institution is, at all events,
sent moment, more than ever before, the advo a respectable plea, and should not be wantonly
cates of the old and new systems respectively rejected. It must, however, be admitted that
are pertinaciously presenting their claims to the this plea has not in our day the strength which
arbitration of the public. The maintenance it once had. Old institutions, of whatever
of a hostile feeling is, however, much to be kind, are nowrequired to prove that they deserve
deprecated. This question may be, it is to live, if that privilege is to be allowed them.
hoped, dispassionately discussed; and for
In the case before us, we have an extreme
myself, though advocating the retention of party of reformers, who without hesitation
much of the old system, I am, as will be seen, declare that the proper place for Classical
strongly impressed with the great claims of instruction in the curriculum is no place at
science, and disposed to recommend a fair all—who would not only dethrone it from the
and liberal compromise. I cannot but think position it has so long held, but thrust it
that a curriculum framed in such a way ignominiously forth. This is the not unnatural
as to retain the sound discipline of the old reaction against the unwarrantable assumption
classical course, and to embrace the vivifying on the other side, that the proper place of
influences of the scientific element, would prove classics in the curriculum is the whole cur
advantageous to both. Science, judiciously riculum ; that they alone constitute “ learn
and thoroughly taught, supplies a training of a ing
and that the most honourable and
different kind from that supplied by classics, lucrative positions in society ought to be
and of a kind especially adapted to correct the allotted, as a matter of course, to those who
defects of the latter. This has been, indeed, hold their certificate. Exaggerated preten
to some extent, admitted by the general intro sions, however, on whichever side they are
duction of mathematics into the curriculum. held, only injure the cause of those who main
It will, however, be shown that pure mathe tain them, and in the present case are espe
matics are not sufficiently comprehensive for cially unsuitable. For, as between the rival
the purpose. The observational and experi claims of language and literature on the one
mental sciences, besides being more generally side, and science on the other, there is surely
inviting as a study than mathematics, are re much to be said for both so true and so reason-
�able as to claim the respectful attention of all
fair and competent judges. It must never be
forgotten that out of those ages in which
science, properly so called, was unknown,
came forth the great teachers of mankind, the
pioneers, nay more, the efficient agents, by
words and deeds, in originating and carrying
on the civilization of the human race. /Phis
important work was accomplished by men
utterly unacquainted with geology, the steamengine, the electric telegraph, spectrum
analysis, or the dynamic theory of heat.
Without these means and appliances, or even
an atom of the spirit of which they are the
fruit,—without any of the enthusiasm of
modern physical philosophy,—statesmen and
warriors, heroes, patriots, and artists, of whom
all ages are proud, have so lived as to leave an
imperishable name behind them. Whether
the age of science will produce grander results,
has yet to be proved. On the other hand, it
is most reasonable that science too should, in
our day especially, claim its proper place
in education as a civilizing agent. It may
point with pride to what it has done and is
doing, and may without rebuke exclaim : “If
you need memorials of my power and influence,
look around you ; the results are everywhere.
Nay more, if, instead of mere details, dry facts,
and practical applications, you have a taste
for sublime speculations and theories, I can
furnish you with views into the distant and
the past almost unequalled for elevation, range,
and depth, and fraught with the profouudest
interest to the present and all future genera
tions.” We may therefore, without slavish
humility, bow reverentially before both these
claimants on our homage, and denounce
impartially the zealots and fanatics on either
side,—the men who audaciously, declare that sci
entific instruction is “ worthless,” and equally
those who stigmatize the classics as “ useless,”
—in the curriculum of modern education.
In dealing with the subject of my lecture,
I propose in the first place, to consider
generally the curriculum of modern education
for the middle classes, and to discuss some ot
the plans proposed for its reformation; and
secondly, to advocate the claims of classical
instruction to continue to hold the leading
place in it as a mental discipline.
The object we have in view is to discuss
the curriculum of modern education, as
far as the middle classes of society are con
cerned— excluding, on the one hand, those
whose instruction must, from circumstances,
be limited to the barest elements of learn
ing ; and those, on the other hand, whose
course is intended to terminate in a uni
versity career. The question then is—con
sidering the age in which we live, with its
immense accumulation, and wonderful appli
cations, of knowledge; considering too that
the longest life is too short for securing for
the individual man any large portion of this,
which constitutes the treasury of the race; and
that the immature faculties of the child can
grasp only a very limited portion of that
which is ultimately attained by the mau—
whether we do wisely in giving up any consi
derable portion of the small space of time
available for acquisition, to the attainment of
a kind of knowledge which appears, in com
parison with scientific and general information,
to be only slightly demanded by the wants
and the wishes of the age. If it is neces
sary, or even important and desirable, that
we should all attempt to know all things,
this question is at once settled by the exi
gencies of the case. Every moment of the
time devoted to instruction must, on that
assumption, be given up to the earnest and
unremitting pursuit of the “ things that lie
about in daily life;” and everything which
impedes or interferes with that pursuit must
be regarded as impertinent. It is, however,
perfectly clear that the attempt to force the
individual man to keep up with the intel
lectual march of the human race, must end in
utter disappointment; and, moreover, involves
a fatal misconception of the object which all
true education should. have in view. It can
not be too frequently repeated, that develop
ment and training, and not the acquisition
of knowledge, however valuable in itself, is
the true and proper end of elementary educa
tion, nor too strongly insisted on, that
he who grasps too much holds feebly, or,
as the French pithily express it, qui trop
em.brasse mal etreint. The fact that there is
a vast store of knowledge in the world is no
more a reason why I should acquire it all, than
the fact that there is an immense store of food
is a reason why I should eat it all. We may
mourn over the limitation of our powers, but
as our fate in this respect is quite inevitable, it
�is our duty, as rational creatures, to submit to sented in the former. The other principle
it, and to be satisfied with doing, if not all seems to be, that as men are often found
that we fondly wish, yet all that we can, and, “ unpractised, unprepared, and still to seek,”
what is more important, as well as we can. in regard to the circumstances in which they
1 cannot but think that the protest of the are actually placed in life, we should anticipate
high-minded and conscientious men who are this difficulty by making children acquainted
in our day aiming at the reform of the beforehand with “ the leading kinds of activity
school curriculum, would be much more whicji constitute human life”—in other words,
influential with the public if they would keep with all varieties of practical business. In
closely to the true issue in discussing this enforcing both these views, touching appeals
question. It is most desirable, certainly, that ad misericordiam are made by their supporters,
there should be a thorough reform; but it is based, first, on the cruelty of withholding from
equally desirable that the reform should be the child that knowledge of science which has
established on a sound basis, and that both become the inheritance of the race, and which
parties should co-operate in arriving at a wise he so much desires to have ; and again, on the
decision on this point.
criminal neglect of his teachers in not secur
It is much to be regretted that so many of ing him, by ample knowledge of practical
those who have handled the subject of the business, against the dangers into which, from
curriculum in the interests of philanthropy, ignorance and inexperience, he is not only
should be disqualified from treating it judi likely, but certain to fall. The theory, then,
ciously by a want of practical acquaintance with stated in its bare simplicity, is, that the boy
education. Very much at their ease, they con is to be provided by his education, first, with
struct airy and fantastic theories, founded not all scientific knowledge; and secondly, with
on what is practicable, but what is desirable ; all practical knowledge, as his proper equip
recommend them earnestly, as if they were ment for the battle of life.
the genuine fruits of experience, and too fre
That I may not, however, be suspected
quently reproach the hard-working teachers, of misrepresenting these theoretical views of
who, however much they may admire such the curriculum, I will now endeavour to ex
theories, cannot by any amount of labour hibit them, as taken from the works in which
realize them, and therefore feel themselves they are to be found.
aggrieved at having their actual educational
In the first number of the “ Westmin
product unfairly brought into comparison with ster Review,” published in 1824, we find
the highly-coloured results promised by the an article mainly devoted to the explanation
theorist. These writers, men, if you will, of and enforcement of Mr. Bentham’s “ Chrestobenevolent hearts, certainly of lively imagina mathia”* as a scheme of instruction which
tions, evince far too little sympathy with -(to use the reviewer’s words) should “ compre
the actual work of the practical teacher, with his hend the various branches of education which
arduous, long continued, little appreciated toils, are spread over the whole field of knowledge,
his never-ending struggle against the natural giving to each its due share of importance
volatility, ignorance, dulness, obstinacy, and with a view to the greatest possible sum of
sometimes depravity, of his pupils ; and com practical benefit.” It is curious to see the
prehend not the true vital organisation of that course of study proposed by Bentham, and
“ pleasing, anxious (professional) being,” which which has been extended by the enthusiastic
perhaps, after all, no earnest teacher ever resigns Mr. Simpson, in his work entitled “ The Philo
without some “ longing, lingering look behind. ’ ’ sophy of Education.”
Two leading principles seem to charac
The subjects proposed for the Chrestomathic
terize most of the theories which have been, in
modern times, proposed for the reform of the
* “ Chrestomathia: being a Collection of Papers
old curriculum. The first is, that the cur explanatory of the Design of an Institution proposed
to be set on foot, under the name of the Chrestoma
riculum ought to be considered as a counter thic Day-Schools, or Chrestomathic School, for the
part or reflex of the world of knowledge to Extension of the New System of Instruction to the
Higher Branches of
of the
which it is introductory, and that therefore Middling and HigherLearning, for the use Jeremy
Ranks of Life.” By
the omne scibile of the latter should be repre Bentham, Esq. London: 1816.
�9
curriculum of study in the case of boys, and
girls too, “ between the ages of seven and four
teen,” are as follows :—
Elementary Arts.—Reading, writing, arith
metic.
1 st Stage.—Mineralogy, botany, zoology, geo
graphy, geometry (definitions
only), history, chronology,
drawing.
2nd Stage.—Same subjects, with mechanics,
hydrostatics, hydraulics, pneu
matics, acoustics, optics.
Chemistry, mineral, vegetable,
animal.
Meteorology, magnetism, elec
tricity, galvanism, balistics.
Archaeology, statistics.
English, Latin, Greek, French,
and German grammars.
3rc? Stage.—Subjects of previous stages, and
mining, geology, land-survey
ing, architecture, husbandry,
including the theory of vegeta
tion and gardening.
Physical economics—i. e., the ap
plication of mechanics and che
mistry to domestic manage
ment, involving “maximization
of bodily comfort in all its
shapes, minimization of bodily
discomfort in all its shapes,”
biography.
4.th Stage.—Hygiastics (art of preserving and
restoring health), comprising
physiology, anatomy, patho
logy, nosology, dietetics, mate
ria medica, prophylactics (art
of warding off evils), surgery,
therapeutics, zohygiastics (art
of taking care of animals).
Phthisozoics (art of destroying
noxious animals : vermin kill
ing, ratcatching, &c.).
5th Stage.—Geometry (with demonstrations),
algebra, mathematical geogra
phy, astronomy.
Technology, or arts and manu
factures in general.
Bookkeeping, or the art of regis
tration or recordation.
Commercial book-keeping.
Note-taking.
Such is the scheme of the Chrcstomatbia,
which designedly omits (as Mr .’Bentham tells
us) gymnastic exercises, fine arts, applications
of mechanics and chemistry, belles lettres, and
moral arts and sciences. These are omitted
on various grounds which I have no time to
specify, except to mention one, which might
indeed have very suitably excluded five-sixths
at least of those enumerated—“time of life too
early.”
Mr. Simpson, approving of the whole of the
above curriculum, thought it still incomplete,
and therefore introduced the department of
Moral Science omitted by Bentham, as a
6th Stage.—History, government, commerce.
Political economy.
Philosophy of the human mind.
Risum teneatis, amici! Was anything more
extraordinary ever proposed in the whole his
tory of man ? This imposing display of the
triumphs of the entire human race is actually
presented as a curriculum of study for children
between seven and fourteen years of age 1
Such is the scheme lauded by a writer who
complains that “ hitherto the education proper
for civil and active life has been neglected, and
nothing has been done to enable those who are
to conduct the affairs of the world to carry
them on in a manner worthy of the age and
country in which they live, by communicating
to them the knowledge and the spirit of their
age and country.” This is the panacea, then,
proposed by the Chrestomathic school for the
cure of the educational maladies of the day.
Education, according to this view, is to con
sist in the administration of infinitesimal doses
of knowledge: a little drop of this, a pinch of
that, an atom of the third article, and so on ;
the names and technicalities of a great range
of subjects, and mastery and power over none.
Comment on such a scheme is unnecessary.
It condemns itself, as a method of teaching
superficiality and sciolism on system. Is
there any connection between such a course
and the “complete and generous education”
(these are Milton’s words) that “ fits a man to
perform justly, skilfully, and magnanimously
all the offices, both private and public, of peace
and war”? Are we not rather injuring than
aiding true mental development, and perhaps
moral too, by pretending to teach the sciences
when all the while we are teaching little beyond
their names ? Is such a scheme as this to super
sede the sound instruction and invigorating dis-
�10
eipline of the old school ? Is this the desidera
tum so eagerly looked for as a means of pro
ducing men capable of carrying on the affairs
of the world in “a manner worthy of the age and
country in which we live ”? I quite agree with
the most advanced of the reformers in ques
tion as to the need of reform ; but I hope they
will agree with me that this is not the direction
in which it is to be promoted, and that if the
new crusade is to be successful in its objects,
Messrs. Bentham and Simpson must not be
permitted to head the movement.
Another theoretical writer on modern edu
cation is Mr. Herbert Spencer, who, in his
work entitled “Education, Intellectual, Moral,
and Physical,” has presented us with a scheme
—evolved apparently out of the depths of his
own consciousness; for he does not profess to
have any practical experience as a teacher or
schoolmaster—so ingenious, and pretty, and
complete, that one can only sigh over the
limited capacity of human nature, which will,
it is to be feared, for ever prevent its being
realised. While agreeing for the most part
with Mr. Bentham, that a child can and ought
to learn—at least, what he calls learning—an
immense number of subjects, he insists with
great earnestness upon the principle (which,
if rightly interpreted, no one questions), that
education should prepare the pupil for the
duties of life; or, as he styles it, for “ the
right ruling of conduct in all directions, and
under all circumstances.” This, as he remarks,
—and everyone will agree with him,—is the
“ general problem, which comprehends every
special problemand he goes on further to
tell us, that the solution of it involves our
knowing “ in what way to treat the body; in
what way to treat the mind ; in what way to
manage our affairs ; in what way to bring up
a family; in what way to behave as a citizen;
and in what way to utilise those sources of
happiness which nature supplies; how to use
our faculties to the greatest advantage of our
selves and others; how to live completely.
And this being the great thing needful for us
to learn, is by consequence the great thing
which education has to teach.”
This is an epitome of Mr. Spencer’s views
on the curriculum, and it appears to be impos
sible to satisfy the conditions of his theory
by anything short of special preparation for
all the contingencies of life. My limits will
not allow of a close investigation of arguments
and illustrations, spread over nearly sixty
pages of his book; but a practical school
master has surely some right to inquire,
whether he is serious in adducing, as evidences
of defect in the school curriculum, nume
rous instances of persons injuring their eye
sight by over-study, and their limbs by over-ex
ercise ; of others suffering “ from heart-disease,
consequent on a rheumatic fever that fol
lowed reckless exposureand again, of
“ the engineer who misapplies his formulae for
the strength of materials, and builds a bridge
that breaks downof the shipbuilder who,
“ by adhering to the old model, is outsailed
by one who builds on the mechanically-jus
tified wave-line principle;” of the bleacher,
the dyer, the sugar-refiner, the farmer,
who fail more or less, because unacquainted
with chemistry ; and notably of the mining
speculators, who ruin themselves from igno
rance of geology; and the constructors of
electro-magnetic engines, “ who might have
had better balances at their bankers,” if they
had understood “ the general law of the cor
relation, and equivalence of forces.” Are all
these sad delinquencies, and many more,
recounted with terrible accuracy by Mr. Spen
cer, fairly to be laid to lack of service and
duty and sense in the schoolmaster ? Ought
the elementary schoolmaster—that is the real
question—to have furnished all hispupilsoffrom
seven to fourteen years of age with the know
ledge, and judgment, and common sense, and
experience, which are the proper safeguards
against the failures I have enumerated ? I
answer distinctly, that he is not responsible;
and I might say this much more strongly, but
that I respect Mr. Spencer’s earnestness and
true sincerity of purpose. But Mr. Spencer, who
is no schoolmaster himself, having, it would
appear, a most exalted opinion of the omnipo
tent and omniscient faculties of that func
tionary, demands still something more of him,
and regarding it as “an astonishing fact, that
not one word of instruction on the treatment
of offspring is ever given to those who will by
and by be parents,” that is, given by the
schoolmaster, lays that obligation also upon
him. Here too, it appears to me, the prac
tical schoolmaster has a right to ask, very
specifically, what kind of information “on the
treatment of offspring” Mr. Spencer would
�11
himself propose to give, as a sortof model school inefficient and enervating. General truths, to
lesson, to a child of twelve or fourteen years be of due and permanent use, must be earned.’’
of age ? The child is, to be sure, in a certain
The same principle would seem to decide
sense, “the father of the man’’; but it is coming the question of special preparation. The ex
down rather sharply upon him to apply this perience of those who have gone before us
literally, and make him leave his tops and cannot supersede our own ; and no conceivable
balls so early in life, and set about this unsea improvement, therefore, in the curriculum will
sonable preparation for the duties of paternity. ever provide for “ the right ruling of conduct
The general conclusion, then, from our re in all directions, under all circumstances ;” or,
view of Mr. Spencer’s theory is, that its due in other words, furnish a child beforehand
satisfaction involves the assumption that every with the mental and moral powers which are
man is to be his own doctor, lawyer, architect, to be developed in the actual life of the man.
bailiff, tailor, and, I suppose,—clergyman; so It is by living that we learn to live.
that the Chrestomathic scheme, which required
I have already suggested, that development
the child to learn the omne scibile, is supple and training, not the acquisition of knowledge,
mented, as not being comprehensive enough, however valuable in itself, is the true and
by Mr. Spencer’s, for learning also the omne proper end of elementary education. In a
*
facibile; and both must, I fear, be condemned, I general way it may be asserted that the former
not only as being utterly impracticable, (though is the main tenet of the old or conservative,
that might beasufficient objection,) butas being the latter of the new or reforming school. We
based on a total misconception of what ele shall have to dwell at some length on this
mentary education ought to be.t
point, that we may be prepared to recognise
The fact is, that however captivating to the the respective claims of various subjects to be
imagination the idea may be of communicating admitted into the curriculum. It is perfectly
to our pupil those immense stores of knowledge, true that neither view of necessity excludes
the possession of which distinguishes the pre the other. Any subject, however suitable in
sent from all previous ages, it is one which, itself for the discipline of the pupil, may be so
when brought to the test of experience, proves taught as to involve no good training ; and a
utterly illusory. A higher power than that subject presumptively unsuitable may, by the
of either the theoretical educationist, or the skill of the teacher, be made to yield the
practical schoolmaster, has ordained that into happiest fruits. Still the prominence given
the kingdom of knowledge, as into the king to these respective features in theory must
dom of heaven, we must enter as little children. materially affect the practice founded on them.
We must begin at the beginning, and learn I need not refer to the very etymology of the
the prima elementa each for himself, as all word “ education” to support the more oldchildren before us have done, gaining little ad fashioned view of the case. All will allow
vantage as individuals from the achievements that it means training or development; but
which science has effected for our race. We I would dwell for a moment on the meaning of
find, too, that if, from a desire to spare our the cognate term“ instruction,”in support of the
pupil the labour of learning fact after fact in same argument, and also to show that a real
apparently endless succession, we frame com and judicious teaching of science, not a ran
pendious formulae, rules, and general prin dom gathering together of scraps of “ useful
ciples, founded on other men’s mental expe knowledge,” does indeed involve a genuine dis
rience, and endeavour to feed his mind with cipline of the mind. The original meaning
them, they prove, in the early stage of instruc of instruere is to heap up, or pile up, or
tion, utterly indigestible, and minister no put together in a heap generally, and seems
proper nourishment for him. Mr. Spencer, in somewhat to countenance the Chrestomathic
another part of his book, justly remarks: notion ; but the secondary meaning, and that
“ To give the net product of inquiry, without with which we are more concerned, is “ to put
the inquiry that leads to it, is found to be both together in order, to build or construct”; so
that instruction is the orderly arrangement
* This phrase is, I am aware, non-classical. It is,
and disposition of knowledge, a branch of
however, to be found in Ducange.
t See Appendix, Note A.
mental discipline which all must acknowledge
�12
to be of great importance and value. But rate, and mature all the faculties, so as to
heaping bricks together, and building a house exhibit them in that harmonious combination
with them, are two very different things. The which is at once the index and the result of
orderly arrangement of facts in the mind im manly growth. In order to gain the ends I
plies a knowledge of their relation to each have specified, or indeed any considerable
other ; and, if carried out to a certain extent, number of them, it is essential that the studies
furnishes the ground-work for the establish embraced in the training course should be
ment of those general laws which constitute few. We cannot hope to have, in the early
what is properly called science. The knowledge, stage of life, both quantity and quality. In
however, of these mutual relations is gained by giving a preference to the latter, we do but
quiet, earnest brooding over facts, viewing them consult the exigencies of the case. At the
in every kind of light, comparing them care same time, it may be hoped that, because the
fully together for the detection of resemblances aim is to enrich and prepare the soil, the ulti
*
and differences, classifying them, experi mate harvest will be proportionately bountiful.
menting upon them, and so on. Allowing,
I have said that the subjects to be studied
then, to science, properly so called, all in the training course should be few. But I
that can be claimed for it as a con proceed further, and maintain that for the
stituent of the curriculum—and of its im purpose of real discipline it is advisable—nay,
mense value in education I shall have to even necessary—to concentrate the energies
speak presently—we must explode, definitely for a long period together on some one general
and finally, the notion that these valuable subject, and make that for a time the leading
results can be elicited by frittering away the feature, the central study of the course—
powers of the mind on a great variety of keeping others in subordination to it. By
subjects. Nor must we be led away by the giving this degree of prominence to some par
frequently meaningless clamour for “ useful ticular branch of instruction, we may hope to
knowledge.” Knowledge which may be un have it studied to such an extent, so closely,
questionably useful to some persons may so accurately, so soundly, so completely, that
not be useful at all to others; therefore, it may become a real possession to the pupil
although education is to be a preparation —a source of vital power, which the mind
for after life, yet it is to be a general, not “ will not willingly let die.” The concentration
a professional, preparation, and cannot pro of mind and range of research necessary for
vide for minute and special contingencies. this purpose obviously involve many of the
The object of education is to form the man, advantages I have recently enumerated. In
not the baker—the man, not the lawyer—the this way, too, the pupil will become fully con
man, not the civil engineer.
scious of the difference between knowing a
What then, we may now inquire, should be the thing and knowing something about it, and
main features of a training, as distinguished will be forcibly impressed with the superiority
from an accumulating, system of instruction ? of the former kind of knowledge. This con
It should, I conceive, aim at quickening and viction is of no small importance; for it gives
strengthening the powers of observation and him a clear, experimental appreciation of the
memory, and forming habits of careful agency—the measure and kind of intellectual
and persevering attention; it should habitu effort—by which the complete and accurate
ate the pupil to distinguish points of difference knowledge was gained, and thus can hardly
and recognise those of resemblance, to analyse fail to exercise a valuable influence upon his
and investigate, to arrange and classify. It character. He who has learned by experience
should awaken and invigorate the understand the difficulty of obtaining a thorough mastery
ing, mature the reason, chasten while it kindles of a subject, has made no trifling advance in
the imagination, exercise the judgment and re
fine the taste. It should cultivate habits of * The opinion of Locke confirms this view. His
words are:—“ The business of education is not, as I
order and precision, and of spontaneous, inde think, to perfect the learner in any of the sciences,
pendent, and long continued application. It but to give his mind that freedom, and disposition,
and those habits which may enable him to attain
should, in short, be a species of mental gym every part of knowledge himself.” (Some Thoughts
nastics, fitted to draw forth, exercise, invigo concerning Education.)
F
-
�13
the knowledge of himself. He has tested his preceded it; he must also keep it in recollec
power of struggling with difficulties, and ac tion, that he may observe its connection with
quired in the contest that command over his what follows. When he encounters difficulties
faculties, and that habit of sustained and which he cannot at the moment solve, he must
vigorous application, which will ensure success retain them in mind until the clue to their
in any undertaking. He who has only begun solution is gained. He must often retrace his
a study, or advanced but little in it, is a steps with the experience he has acquired in ad
stranger to that consciousness of strength and vancing, and then advance again with the added
range of mental vision which are involved in knowledge gained in his retrogression. It is only
the cultivation of it to a high point. The by thus wrestling—agonising, as it were—with
knowledge, thus thoroughly acquired and pos a subject, that we eventually subdue it, and
sessed as a familiar instrument by the pupil, make it ours, and a part of us. By such or
becomes not only a powerful auxiliary to his analogous processes, constantly and patiently
further attainments, but a high standard to pursued, we rise at last to the highest gene
which he may continually refer them.
*
ralisations ; so that a knowledge of the pheno
One of the chief reasons why the study of one mena of the material world is digested into
thing, one subject, or one book, is so valuable Science, a knowledge of the facts and matter
a discipline, is that the matter thus sub of language is elaborated into Learning, and a
mitted to the mind’s action forms a whole, knowledge and intimate appreciation of the
and by degrees reacts on the mind itself, and facts of human life ripens into Wisdom.
'creates within it the idea of unity and harmony. Everyone will bear me out in the remark,
Suppose, for instance, that we read a book that it is from those few books that we
with the view of thoroughly studying and read most carefully — that we “chew and
mastering it. We find, as a consequence of digest,” to use Bacon’s words—that we pe
the unity of thought and expression pervading ruse again and again with still increasing
it, that one part explains another, that what interest—that we take to our bosom a3 friends
is hinted at in one page is amplified in the and counsellers; it is from these that we are
next, that the matter of the first few sentences is conscious of deriving real nourishment for the
the nucleus (the oak in the acorn, as it were) of mind. Nor is it perhaps rash to assert that
the entire work. Thus the beginning of the book the general tendency, in our day, to dissipate
throws light upon the end, which the end in its the attention on all sorts of books, on all sorts
turn reflectsupon the beginning. He who studies of subjects, which just flash before the mind,
in this way must carefully weigh each word, and excite it for a moment, leave a vague impres
estimate its value in the sentence of which it is sion, and are gone, is stamping a character
a part, and its bearing on those which have upon the age which will render nugatory the
well-meant efforts which have of late been
made for the enlightenment of the popular
* The above argument is powerfully confirmed in
the following passage from an “ Introductory Lecture” mind, and the extension of useful knowledge.
by Professor De Morgan, delivered at University It is, I say, characteristic of the age, that we
College, October 17,1837:—
“ When the student has occupied his time in learn emasculate and enfeeble our powers by the
ing a moderate portion of many different things, vain attempt to know everything which every
what has he acquired—extensive knowledge or useful
habits? Even if he can be said to have varied body else knows ; and learn, in conformity to
learning, it will not long be true of him, for nothing the fashion of the times, even to feel it as a
flies so quickly as half-digested knowledge; and when reproach that we have not “dipped into,” or
this is gone, there remains but a slender portion of
useful power. A small quantity of learning quickly “skimmed over,” or “glanced at” (very
evaporates from a mind which never held any learn significant phrases) all the articles in all the
ing, except in small quantities; and the intellectual
philosopher can perhaps explain the following pheno newspapers, magazines, and reviews of the
menon :—that men who have given deep attention to day. We indolently allow ourselves to be
one or more liberal studies, can learn to the end of
their lives, and are able to retain and apply very carried on, in spite of our silent protest,
small quantities of other kinds of knowledge; while against our real convictions, with the shallow
those who have never learnt much of any one thing tide which is sweeping over the land; and,
seldom acquire new knowledge after they attain to
years of maturity, and frequently lose the greater' inasmuch as we do so, are neutralising the
part of that which they once possessed.” (p. 12.)
real interests of the cause we profess to be
�14
advocating, and preventing the formation
of valuable and useful judgments on any
subject whatever. If you consider with me
that this general dissipation is an evil, you
will also sympathise with the desire to prevent
the organization and establishment of the prin
ciple in the curriculum of elementary education.
A thousand times better, in my opinion, to
have the old hum-drum monotony, the cease
less drill, which ended only in preparing the
faculties to work to some purpose, when they
did work, on the problems of life, than the
counterfeit knowledge which can give an opi
nion on every subject because substantially
uninformed on any.
It is not, perhaps, too much to assert, that
concentration of mind on a few subjects is,
and ever has been, the only passport to excel
lence. All the great literary and scientific
men of all ages, whose opinions we value,
whose judgments are received as the dictates
of wisdom and authority, have acted on the
conviction, that the powers of the mind are
strengthened by concentration, and weakened
by dissipation.
*
The practical inference from the foregoing
remarks is, that in order to train the mind
usefully, concentration, and not accumulation,
must be our guiding principle; in other words,
we must direct the most strenuous efforts of
our pupils to the complete and full comprehen
sion of some one subject as an instrument of
intellectual discipline.
The next consideration, then, is, what the
subject submitted to this accurate and com
plete study ought to be. And here we come
again nearly to the point at which we set out,
and must now for ourselves renew the friendly
strife between the “ trivials” and the “ quadrivials” once more. I say “ friendly,” because
the claims of both are so reasonable, that it
really ought not to be very difficult to adjust
them, and no angry feeling therefore ought to
accompany the discussion. We have left the
theorists behind, and are now to settle such
questions as practical and experienced men,
with reference to their real merits, judicially,
and with some degree of authority.
On the general subject of the curriculum, I
will quote some remarks which I have lately
met with in a pamphlet by an able American
writer, apparently acquainted by experience
with his subject.
*
He is strongly opposed to
what we usually call the Classical System,
but candidly admits that its defenders have
hitherto had greatly the advantage of their
opponents in the line of argument they have
pursued. “Disagree with them,” he says,
“ as you may as to what studies go to make up
a liberal education, you must go to them for a
true definition of that training of mind in
which a liberal education consists.” As he is
one of the ablest advocates of the claims of
science, we may listen to what he says on
its behalf as a part of school education.
He assumes, then, as axioms these following
propositions:—
“1. That in the Science and Art of edu
cation we must study and follow nature,—that
we shall only be successful as far as we do.
“ 2. That there is a certain natural order
in the development of the human faculties ; and
that a true system of education will follow,
not run counter to, that order.
“ 3. That we may divide the faculties of the
mind, for the purposes of education, into
observing and reflective; and that in the order
of development the observing faculties come
first.
* See some very interesting illustrations in
D’Israeli’s “ Curiosities of Literature,” in the essay
entitled, “ The Man of One Book.” To these may be
added, as an instructive, though somewhat extra
vagant, specimen of the non-multa-sed-muUwn
principle advocated in the text, the following, taken
from the “ Foreign Quarterly Review” for 1841:—
“ Porpora, an Italian teacher of music, having
conceived an affection for one of his pupils, asked
him if he had courage to pursue indefatigably a
course which he would point out, however tiresome
it might appear. Upon receiving an answer in the
affirmative, he noted upon a page of ruled paper, the
diatonic and chromatic scales, ascending and descend
ing with leaps of a third, fourth, &c., to acquire the
intervals promptly, with shakes, turns, appoggiature,
and various passages of vocalisation. This leaf
employed master and pupil for a year; the follow
ing year was bestowed upon it; the third year there
was no talk of changing it: the pupil began to
murmur, but was reminded of his promise. A fourth
year elapsed, then a fifth, and every day came the
eternal leaf. At the sixth it was not done with, but
lessons of articulation, pronunciation, and declama
tion were added to the practice. At the end of this
year, however, the scholar, who still imagined that
he was but at the elements, was much surprised
when his master exclaimed, ‘ Go, my son; thou hast
* “ Classical and Scientific Studies, and the Great
nothing more to learn; thou art the first singer of
Italy, and of the world.’ He said true. This singer Schools of England.” By W. P. Atkinson, Cam
bridge (U.S.), 1865.
was Caffarelli.”
�15
“4. That individual minds come into the
wor'd with individual characteristics; often,
in the case of superior minds, strongly marked,
and qualifying them for the more successful
pursuit of some one career, than of any other.
“ 5. That the study of the material world
may be said to be the divinely appointed
instrument for the cultivation and development
of the observing faculties ; while the study of
the immaterial mind, with all that belongs to
it, including the study of language as the
instrument of thought, is the chief agent in
the development of the reflective faculties.”
Speaking in the interests of that reform in
the curriculum which is very decidedly needed,
I would frankly accept these propositions,
though the terms of some of them, especially
those of the fourth and fifth, might give a
caviller a favourable opportunity. Of one
point essentially involved in them, I have no
doubt; and that is, that any rational curriculum
of elementary study must be based on the fact
that the observing, are called into action before
the reflecting, faculties ; in other words, that
the food must be swallowed before it is
digested ; though 1 believe it to be an educa
tional fallacy to maintain that therefore no
food should be swallowed that cannot be
instantly digested. The general consideration
would, however, seem to justify us in carry
ing forward, before anything else is attempted,
the instruction which the child has already
commenced for himself, in the study of the
phenomena of the external world, and in that
of the mother tongue. Professor Tyndall has
shown, in his interesting lecture on the study
of Physics, that even the new-born babe is an
experimental philosopher, and improvises by
instinct a suction-pump to supply himself
with his natural food, and day after day, by
experiment and observation, makes himself
acquainted with the ordinary properties of
matter, acquires the idea of distance, sound,
and gravitation, and so on, and, by burning
his fingers and scalding his tongue, learns
also the conditions of his physical well being.
In this hand-to-mouth way the pupil in the
great school of nature begins his lessons, and
surely it is most natural that he should be
encouraged to continue this self-education,
and, under judicious guidance, he may very
properly be made acquainted with the things
“ which lie about in daily life,” and also be
trained to the study of that proper con
nection between things and words which is
the true basis of a good knowledge of his own
language. Such a course of instruction, such
“ lessons on objects,” will no doubt amuse and
interest the young natural philosopher, and may
be the means of eliciting, even quite early in life,
thosepredilectionsofwhichMr. Atkinson speaks
as the special characteristics of the individual,
and which, in certain cases, may furnish sug
gestions to be afterwards employed in con
ducting his education.
Having arrived at this point in the discus
sion of ray subject, I must make a confession ;
—which, however, is not humiliating, because,
though I have to speak of personal failure, I
am supported by the consciousness of honest
intentions. I have always been fond of
science in every shape, and well remember
the delight with which, when a boy, I
adopted as the pocket companions of my
leisure hours the little volumes of Joyce’s
“ Scientific Dialogues,” and Miss Edge
worth’s charming “ Harry and Lucy.” I
say this to show that in the experiments
which I made in teaching something that
might be called science to young children, I
was working con amore, and with a real desire
to succeed. But I found my young natural
philosophers somewhat difficult to manage.
As long as everything was new, and striking,
and amusing, they were attentive enough :
but as soon as anything like training was
attempted, as soon as I required perfect accu
racy in observing, and careful classification
and retention of results, my popularity waned
astonishingly. They were, for the most part,
satisfied with the attainments which they had
made in the knowledge of the external world
within the first three or four years of their
lives, and did not discover that “craving after
knowledge’’ which, I am told by Mr. Spencer
and others, is always exhibited by children
until it is for ever extinguished by the spectral
display of the Latin grammar, which, like the
famous Medusa’s head, turns every one that
looks at it into stone. According to my own ex
perience, the young natural philosophers gene
rally preferred choosing their own subject of
instruction, and their own arena for the exer
cise ; and that subject was what is usually
called play, and the arena the playground.
It is true enough that there is a great deal to
�]6
be learned of the properties of matter,—resist with this evening. Neither children nor men
ance, elasticity, action and reaction, the com naturally like the difficulties, the drudgery of
position of forces, &c.,—in playing at bat, any subject whatever. No practical teacher
trap, and ball ; but I doubt very much will pretend that they do. Yet these diffi
*
whether there is any natural craving after culties must be overcome, if the subject is to
such knowledge as the final cause of the game. be really learned. But we may test my posi
In general, I must say from experience that tion by reference to music. I might, of course,
it is as possible to make even abstract subjects, indulge in any amount of rhapsody about
such as arithmetic and grammar, quite as music,—its exquisite charms,—its universal
interesting to young children as those parts popularity, and so on,—but what verdict
of science which really call for mental effort, would a jury of little girls give on what is tech
and involve minute accuracy and care. Facts nically termed “practice,”and on the “gram
and phenomena certainly do interest the mar of music”? That “practice,” however, and
young; but science, as such, the knowledge of that “grammar, ” are the very foundation of the
the relations between them, does not. Practical excellent performance which so delights our
teachers are well aware of this fact, which ears and our taste, and without the one we
theoretical writers too often forget, or, most absolutely cannot have the other. I wonder,
indeed, whether, if we could collect all the
probably, do not know.
Because children attending a lecture on tears which have been shed by children re
natural science open their eyes very wide, and spectively learning the Latin grammar and
look intensely interested when they hear a the piano in two separate receptacles, the
loud bang, or see some of those striking ex music lachrymatory would not contain the
periments performed—often in a sort of a la\ larger quantity. And yet music is so delight
Stodare fashion—which form the stock-in- ful, and the Latin grammar so horridly dis
trade of the lecturer on, say oxygen and agreeable 1 To return, however, to my main
hydrogen gases, it is too hastily concluded argument.
that that would be the normal condition of
The early stage of life is doubtless the most
their attention to the science of chemistry in suitable time for improving and exercising
general. Look, however, at the same children the natural faculty of observation, and much
when the lecturer takes his chalk in hand, may be done at this time in preparing the
and endeavours, by a diagram of very simple mind for the great benefit which the proper
character, to make them understand the study of science is to confer upon it. But I
causes of the phenomena. The lack-lustre must protest against dignifying the desultory
eyes and the yawning mouth very soon tell us scraps of information thus acquired — the
that what we just witnessed was simple excite results of the process of taking up one sub
ment, a matter of the senses, nerves, and ject after another to keep the child in good
muscles mainly, and being connected with humour — the cakes and honey supplied
amusement, and therefore involving no mental to sweeten the youthful lips—by the name
exertion, caught the attention for an instant, of science; nor do I feel inclined to think
but was not in itself an element of mental that we have at last reached the long-sought
improvement. The moment the mind was desideratum in teaching, when a band of chil
called on, it obeyed the summons with just dren, in all the frolic and fun belonging to
as much alacrity as it usually displays their nature, gather handfuls of flowers, and run
when invited to dissect a diagram of up to the teacher to ask the names of them, and
Euclid. The assertion, that, as a general —to forget them as soon as named.
*
How
rule (and independently of the all-important ever, if this is science, I would certainly teach
question of what sort of a man the teacher is), it in the early stage of instruction. Children
children love science and hate language, is generally like this desultory style of skipping
another fallacy of the same kind as those
* Mr. Henslow’s interesting experiments in teach
we have been already so liberally dealing ing village children accomplished much more than
this; and, indeed, proves the applicability of the sub
* Thia is very pleasantly exemplified in Dr. Paris’s ject to the wants of the early stage of education. (See
Museum, vol. iii. p. 4, and Educational Times, Nov.,
ingenious little book, “Philosophy in Sport made
Science in Earnest.”
I860.)
�17
from subject to subject. It stimulates their
senses, brings them into contact with nature
herself in the open air, interests them in
her glorious variety and boundless fulness,
and thus supplies happy emotions; it calls
for little exertion on their part, does not
“bother their brains,” and is rarely the occasion
of tears or punishments.
*
If this is science, I
would teach it as a part of the training of the
observing faculties, a discipline which has been
too much neglected by the ordinary systems
and in the hands of a judicious teacher, out of
these random efforts real instruction may grow;
and the bricks thrown together in a heap, and
so far valueless, may, under the genial influ
ence of the educational Ainphion, rise up, like
the walls of the fabulous Thebes, into the form
of a harmonious fabric.
We must not, however, forget that our young
philosopher, who has learnt so much by him
self in the first two or three years of his life
by exercising his faculty of observation, also
developes, in the same space of time, eminent
powers as a linguist; and if we follow nature
in aiding and encouraging his researches in the
one field, it appears quite right to do the same
in the other. Indeed, the two faculties are
exactly adapted to assist each other ; for not
withstanding all that is said about the learning
of things as opposed to the learning of words,
there is a sense in which they are one and the
same, and it is very curious to see how Mr.
Spencer, for instance, in describing what he
evidently considers model lessons in elementary
science, speaks as if a great part of the object of
these lessons was to teach the accurate mean
ing of words. “The mother,” he says, “must
familiarize her little boy with the names of the
simpler attributes, hardness, softness, colour; in
* It is well, too, to encourage children to make
eollections of leaves, butterflies, Deetles, &c. Every
thing should be done to make the connexion
between teacher and pupils pleasant for both; and
therefore sympathy should be warmly evinced in
such pursuits as these. Professor Blackie has well
expressed these views in the following passage from
a lecture delivered in Latin, at the Marischal College,
Aberdeen:—“ Exeant in campos pneri, fluminum
cursus vestigent, in montes adscendant; saxa, lapides,
arbores, herbas, flores notent, et notando amare
discant; oculis non vagis, fluitantibus et somniculosis, sed apertis, Claris, firmis; auribus non obtusis
incertisque sed erectis atque accuratis rerum varietatem percipiant.” (De Latinarum literarum proestantia atque utititate, p. 13.)
t See Appendix, note B.
doing which she finds him eagerly help by
bringing this to show that it is red, and the
other to make her feel that it is hard, as fast
as she gives him words for these properties.”
There is much more to the same purport, which
I have no time to quote. But is it not singular
that so ingenious a man does not see that this
process, which he lauds so highly, is only a
sensible way of teaching, not science merely,but
the mother-tongue? The teacher is trying to get
the pupil to attach clear ideas to the use of
words; and, while professing to despise the
teaching of words, is in reality doing little
else; for words are, in a well understood sense,
the depositories of the knowledge, spirit, and
wisdom of a nation.
*
I am perfectly aware
that the pupil, while thus engaged, is learning
much more than mere words ; but I maintain
that he is also learning words while he is
learning things, and that the antithesis so
much insisted on is more specious than real.
However this may be, I quite approve of these
lessons on things, or lessons on words, which
ever they may be called, as a part of the ele
mentary stage of instruction, which may be
practically considered as terminating at twelve
years of age.
But this stage is also the most suitable for
learning the use of a foreign tongue, and, there
fore, to the elementary subjects which must,
as a matter of course, come into the cur
riculum—reading, writing, arithmetic, taught
at first by palpable objects, or counters;
geography, commencing with the topography
of the house and parish in which the pupil
lives ; history, made picturesque by oral teach
ing in such a way as to arrest the attention
and stimulate the imagination ; lessons on
objects as introductory to the rudiments of
science; word-lessons,t gradually extended
from the names of material objects to those of
moral and intellectual notions—should be added
the study of French. The lessons in this lan
guage should be eminently practical; accurate
pronunciation should be insisted on, and as
* He who completely knows a word knows all
that that word is or ever was intended to convey, its
etymological origin, its first meaning as fixed in the
language, its subsequent history, its varying for
tunes, and the idea it suggests to various classes of
persons.
f Hints for such lessons might be gained from
Wood’s Account of the Edinburgh Sessional School;
but better ones can easily be framed.
C
�18
rapidly as possible the actual practice secured. the Curriculum ; and henceforth the develop
This is the main point. At no period of life ment of the reflective faculties, and the acquisi
will so good an opportunity be found' for tion of habits of industry and hard work, are
doing this in an easy, natural way. The the main objects to be kept in view. This is
organs are in a flexible condition, the ear to be especially the stage of discipline ; disci
is apt at catching, the mouth at imitating, pline by means of Science (including Mathe
sounds ; and without even talking of grammar matics) and Language. The question now is,
(should such talk seem very alarming) a true which shall take the lead.
Vitiation into the language may be gained.
Science may, for our present purpose, be
All that has now been suggested appears to defined to be the knowledge of the laws of
be quite consistent with the principle above nature, as gained by reflection on facts which
recommended, of continuing the exercise of the have been previously arranged in an orderly and
faculties of observation and imitation already methodical manner in the mind, in accordance
commenced by nature.
with their natural relation to each other.
Such rudimentary lessons in science as have Every one must see that such a subject as
been proposed above, do not appear to involve this affords abundant scope for a life-long, and
much strict mental discipline ; nor do I believe, not merely a school, education. Considering,
for reasons which will presently be suggested, too, that this knowledge is not only deeply
that true science can advantageously be studied interesting in itself, but, being gained for the
by very young pupils.
*
There is, however, one very purpose of diffusion, adds greatly to the
subject, which might, perhaps, be taken as sum of human happiness and prosperity, the
the disciplinary study of the elementary stage, motives to its pursuit are indeed transcendantly
and with the greatest advantage. That sub powerful, so that it must be a matter of great
ject is Arithmetic, which, ifjudiciously taught, concern to all to secure for those who are to
involves a genuine mental discipline of the pursue it, even in a subordinate degree, a worthy
most valuable kind ; and though really abstract training.
in its nature, is capable of exciting the live
If science, then, is to constitute a real
liest interest, while it forms in the pupil habits discipline for the mind, much, nay every
of mental attention, argumentative sequence, thing, will depend on the manner in which
absolute accuracy, and satisfaction in truth as it is studied. In the first place, it is to be re
a result, that do not seem to spring equally membered that (to use the oft-quoted phrase)
from the study of any other subject suitable to the pupil is about to study things, not words ;
this elementary stage of instruction.
and therefore treatises on science are not to be
At twelve years of age the pupil may be in the first instance placed before him. He
considered as entering on the second stage of must commence with the accurate examination
(for which he has been partially prepared by
* It is only fair to place in view here the opinions the first stage of instruction) of the objects and
on this point of Dr. Carpenter and Mr. Faraday, to
whose judgment on any subject great deference is phenpmena themselves, not of descriptions of
due; only adding, that I should attach more value to1 them prepared by others. By this means not
their opinions on teaching men, to which they are |
accustomed, than on teaching children, to which, as only will his attention be excited, the power
far as I know, they are not accustomed. In this of observation, previously awakened, much
matter as in others referred to before (see p. I strengthened, and the senses exercised and
13), going through with a thing is very different
from merely beginning it, or touching it at special disciplined, but the very important habit of
selected points. Have these gentlemen taught children doing homage to the authority of facts
hour after hour, year after year?
“ At ten years old a boy [and therefore the average rather than to the authority of men, be initiated.
of boys] is quite capable of understanding a very These different objects and phenomena may be
large proportion of what is set down for matricula
tion at the London University under the head of placed and viewed together, and thus the
Natural Philosophy.” (Dr. Carpenter's Evidence mental faculties of comparison and discrimina
before Commission on Public Schools, vol. iv. p. 364.) tion usefully practised. They may, in the next
. “ I would teach a little boy of eleven years of age
ft. e. the average boys of eleven?] of ordinary intel place, be methodically arranged and classified,
ligence, all these things that come before classics and thus the mind may become accustomed to
in this programme of the London University, i. e.
mechanics, hydrostatics, hydraulics, optics,” &c. an orderly arrangement of its knowledge.
(Mr. Faraday's Evidence, vol. iv.p. 378.)
Then tlie accidental may be distinguished from
�19
the essential, the common from the special, and
so the habit of generalization may be acquired ;
and lastly, advancing from effects to causes,
or conversely from principles to their necessary
conclusions, the pupil becomes acquainted
with induction and deduction—processes of
the highest value and importance. Every one
will allow that such a course as this,
faithfully carried out, must prove to be a
very valuable training. It would not, in
deed, discipline the mind so closely as pure
mathematics, yet its range is wider, and
it is more closely connected with human in
terests and feelings. It is no small advantage,
too, that it affords, both in its pursuit and its
results,—both in the chase and the capture,—
a very large amount of legitimate and generous
mental pleasure, and of a kind which the pupil
will probably be desirous of renewing for himself
after he has left school. After all, however, it
will be observed that, while the study of the
physical sciences tends to give power over the
material forces of the universe, it leaves un
touched the greater forces of the human heart;
it makes a botanist, a geologist, an electrician,
an architect, an engineer, but it does not make
a man. The hopes, the fears, the hatreds and
the loves, the emotions which stir us to heroic
action, the reverence which bows in the presence
of the inexpressibly good and great; the sen
sitive moral taste which shrinks from vice and
approves virtue ; the sensitive mental taste,
which appreciates the sublime and beautiful
in art, and sheds delicious tears over the
immortal works of genius—all this wonderful
world of sensation and emotion lies outside
that world which is especially cultivated by
the physical sciences. This is no argument,
of course, against their forming a proper, nay
an essential, part of the curriculum, but it is an
argument against their taking the first place.
They are intimately’connected, of course, with
our daily wants and conveniences. The study
of them cultivates in the best way the faculties
of observation, and leads naturally to the for
mation in the mind of the idea of natural law,
and so ultimately to investigations and sugges
tions of a very high order, in the pursuit of which
it is sought to define the shadowy boundary be
tween mind and matter, or to reveal to present
time the long buried secrets of the past. But
in order to attain at last these eminent heights
of science, the preliminary training must be
rigorous and exact. It must embrace the
difficult as well as the pleasing and amusing
—that which requires close and long-con
tinued attention as well as that which only
ministers to a transient curiosity. It must
be based on the “ firm ground of experi
ment,” and be ind .pendent of mere book study,
which, it has been well observed, is, in rela
tion to science, only as valuable, in the absence
of the facts, as a commentary on the Iliad
would be to him who had never read the poem.
We may assent then, on the whole, without
hesitation, to the wise and careful judgment
passed on the study of physical science as a part
of the Curriculum by the Public School Com
missioners in their report. “ It quickens,’’they
say, “ and cultivates directly, the faculty of ob
servation, whichin very many personslies almost
dormant through life, the power of accurate and
rapid generalisation, and the mental habit of
method and arrangement; it accustoms young
persons to trace the sequence of cause and effect;
it familiarizes them with a kind of reasoning
which interests them, and which they can
promptly compreheud ; and it is perhaps the
best corrective for that indolence which is the
vice of half-awakened minds, and which shrinks
from any exertion that is not, like an effort of
memory, merely mechanical.” In spite, then,’
of Dr. Moberly’s denunciation of such studies as
“worthless,” and as “giving no power” in edu
*
cation, 1 maintain that it is utterly impos
sible to exclude a subject with pretensions like
these from our curriculum. They must and will
occupy a considerable space in it—they deserve
to do so. For reasons, however, already stated,
I would not give them the post of the highest
distinction, which ought to be reserved for the
studies which exercise, not special faculties,
but the whole man ; not the man as a profes
sional and with a utilitarian end in view, but
as a citizen of the world, as one who is to
meet his fellow men and to influence their
decisions upon the difficult and complicated
problems of society.!
* “ In a school like this (Winchester), I consider
instruction in physical science, in the way in which
we can give it, is worthless......... A scientific fact....
is a fact which produces nothing in a boy’s mind....
It leads to nothing. It does not germinate; it is a
perfectly unfruitful fact..........These things give no
power whatever.” (Evidence before Commission on
Public Schools, vol. Hi. p. 344.)
f See Dr. Johnson’s opinion, Appendix C.
�20
Some think that pure mathematics should
occupy this central post of honour. A
moment’s consideration, however, will show
that the study of algebra, geometry, the
calculus, <fcc., not only does not embrace
those topics of common interest which are
essential for our purpose; but has a special
and limited office to perform — I mean, of
course, independently of their practical appli
cations. Lord Bacon has judiciously summed
up their special functions. “ They do,” he
says, “ remedy and cure many defects in the
wit and faculties intellectual ; for if the wit be
too dull, they sharpen it; if too wandering, they
fix it ; if too inherent in the sense, they abstract
it. So that, as tennis is a game of no use of
itself, but of great use in respect it maketh a
quick eye, and a body ready to put itself into
all postures ; so with mathematics, that use
which is collateral and intervenient is no less
worthy than that which is principal and in
tended.” These words aptly characterise the
advantages of the study of mathematics, and
point out their proper office in education.
They cannot, from their very nature, exercise
a formative power over the whole mind ; but
they are very profitably employed in correcting
certain defects, and in teaching, as scarcely
anything else can teach, habits of accu
racy. They call into play but few of the
faculties ; but these they exercise rigorously,
and therefore usefully. It has been objected
to them, that when pursued to any considerable
extent, without the counterpoise of more gene
ral studies, they become particularly exclusive
and mechanical in their influence; but this
perhaps can hardly be considered as an essen
tial characteristic. On the whole, however, it
can scarcely be maintained that mathematics
will serve as the basis we require for our educa
tional operations, though no education can be
considered as complete which excludes them.
Having then shown that, notwithstand
ing the great value both of physics and of
mathematics in education, they are too special
in their application to serve as the central
subject in our curriculum, we turn once more
to language, and especially to the Latin lan
guage which I should propose as the exer
cising ground best adapted for the intellectual
drilling of our young soldier. Greek, in the
case of those whose school education is to
terminate at sixteen years of age, must, I
think, be displaced in favour of the prac
tical claims of German. This concession, and
this only, would I recommend making to pub
lic opinion. And it is the less necessary to con
test this point, as nearly all the disciplinary
advantages which so eminently characterise the
study of the classical languages may be gained
from the study of Latin alone. It may then,
I conceive, be fairly maintained that the
place which classical instruction holds in the
curriculum of English education is not due
to prejudice, as some believe; nor to ignorance
of what is going on in society around us, as
others pretend; but to a well-judged estimate
of its importance and value as a discipline for
the youthful mind, and as an element of the
highest rank among the civilising influences of
the world.
This study may be considered under two
aspects, the language itself and its literature.
My first proposition is that the study of the
Latin language itself does eminently discipline
the faculties, and secure, to a greater degree than
that of the other subjects we have discussed,
the formation and growth of those mental
qualities which are the best preparatives for
the business of life—whether that business is
to consist in making fresh mental acquisitions,
or in directing the powers, thus strengthened
and matured, to professional or other pursuits.
Written language consists of sentences, and
sentences of words. In commencing the study
of a language, we may consider these words
as things, which we have to investigate and
analyse. They possess many qualities in
common with natural objects, and may be
therefore treated in a somewhat similar way.
They have material qualities; they can be
seen — they can be named (their sound is
their name)—they can be compared together
—their resemblances and differences discrimi
nated, and arrangements or classifications of
them made in accordance with observed simi
larity or difference in form. The memory,
too, is practically and systematically exer
cised. The paradigms of inflexions must be
accurately learnt by heart, and so familiarly
known that the constant comparison between
them as standards, and the varying forms
which arise for interpretation, may be spon
taneous and easy. And these acts of com
parison are themselves of great value, and
tend to cultivate accuracy of judgment: the
�21
very blunders made are instructive: the half when placed in juxtaposition with words
perception induced by indolence must be of our language, or when viewed in connec
corrected by increased labour. The attempt tion with cognates of their own, capable of
at evasion ends in a more complete reception ; affording vivid illustrations of the methods
hence a moral as well as a mental lesson. Thus, and artifices by which languages are formed.
acts of attention, observation, memory, and Hence arise exercises in derivation, or tracing
judgment are called forth; and these acts, by of words up to their roots, and in analysis,
being performed numberless times, grow into or breaking up the compounds into their
habits. Again, these words can be analysed, several components. These exercises in deri
separated into their component parts, and these vation cultivate moreover, when properly car
parts severally examined, and their functions ried out, the habit of deducing the secondary
ascertained. Conversely, we may employ the and figurative senses of words from the pri
synthetic process. We may fashion these mary and literal. Such an exercise leads the
elements in conformity with some given model, pupil beyond the boundaries of mere language.
and thus adapt them to some given end. By In pursuing it, he learns to study the mode
closer investigation and comparison, affinities in which the early stages of society formed
before unperceived are traced and appreciated, their conceptions, and to notice how, as
the transformation of letters detected, and civilization advanced, the language too bore
the foundation laid for the science of Philo evidence of the change. Thus the word guberlogy. It should be observed, that all these nare primarily means to pilot a vessel; second
operations or experiments (for so they may be arily, to direct the vessel of the state, to
*
called) are performed on facts—on objects (a govern
But words, in themselves vital organisms,
word is as much an object as a flower)
directly exposed to observation; that they are though frequently the life is rather latent than
at the same time simple in their nature, and visible, are also to b3 considered in their com
though requiring minute attention, and so bination in sentences. Their vitality now
forming the habit of accuracy, are evidently becomes intensified. The original author,
within the competency of a child. It is no speaking to men of his own nation, and aptly
small advantage that the means of training employing the resources of his craft, had by
the mind to such habits are always within a kind of intellectual magnetism converted
reach, and available to an unlimited extent; the neutral and indifferent into the active and
and not, as is often the case with respect to significant, and constrained all to cooperate in
physical objects, adapted to elicit somewhat effecting his great purpose of speaking out to
similar exertions, obtained with difficulty, and other minds. And there before the eyes of
therefore, perhaps, only heard of, and not seen. our pupil is the result. But it does not speak
But the attention of the pupil, at times out to him. That sentence, beginning with a
necessarily occupied with the accidents or in capital and ending with a full stop, is a body
flexions—the characteristic point of difference with a soul in it, with which he has to com
between his own and the Latin language—is municate. But how to do this? His eye
at others directed especially to what we may passes over it. It looks unattractive, dark,
call the being of each word, the idea which it and cold. Soon, however, something is seen
is intended to convey or suggest. And now in the words or their inflexions, which he
these words, lately treated as simply material, recognises, by a kind of momentary flash, as
inanimate, and dead—anatomical “ subjects” significant. The soul within begins to speak
—are to be considered as invested with a kind to him ; and he catches some faint conception
of physiological interest, and as exhibiting
* Tnis
phenomena of life whose nature it becomes interestingsort of investigation, often opens a very
field of inquiry. Thus the word virtue,
important to study. Our pupil’s interest in in different stages of the Roman history, meant suc
cessively, active physical courage or manhood, and
them, viewed under this aspect, cannot but be
active moral courage, or virtue ; while later, in
much augmented. Words are now no longer Rome’s comparatively degenerate days, virtu signified
things merely, but significant symbols of ideas. a taste for the fine arts! a pregnant commentary on
people. That people, however,
These little organisms, in one sense mere the character of the has already begun to restore the
it may be remarked,
torpid aggregations of matter, are in another, original meaning of the word.
�22
of what it would reveal. As he still gives heed, described, can only be accomplished by <5ne
other points show symptoms of life, and the who is armed with grammatical power. With
lately brute and torpid mass becomes vocal out this, the efforts made to communicate with
and articulate. One after another the words the soul of the author must be feeble and
kindle into expression ; clause after clause is ineffectual. It is one of the special objects of
disentangled from its connection with the the course I am advocating, to cultivate this
main body of the sentence, and appreciated faculty, because in doing so we are in fact cul
both separately and in combination, until at tivating to a high degree the reasoning powers
length a thrill of intelligence pervades the of the pupil. The construction of words in a
whole, and the passage, before dark, inani sentence does not depend upon arbitrary laws,
mate, and unmeaning, becomes instinct with but upon right reason, upon the exact cor
light and life.
respondence between expression and thought,
By these and similar processes, which it is and therefore “ good grammar,” as has been
needless to specify, the pupil learns to apprehend well observed, “ is neither more nor less than
his author’s meaning, though perhaps at first good sense.”*
only obscurely. The next stage in his training
A wise teacher—one who wishes to quicken,
is to find wordsand phrases in his native tongue and is anxious not to deaden, his pupil’s mind—
suited to express it. To do this adequately, he will not, of course, force upon him those indi
must not only ascertain the meaning of each gestible boluses, the technical rules and defini
term, but conceive fully and correctly all the tions of syntax, before training him to observe
propositions that constitute a complete sen the facts on which the rules are founded ; but
tence, in their natural connection and interde will accustom him to the habit of reasoning only
pendence ; he must observe the bearing of the in the presence offacts, which is so valuable
previous sentences on the one under considera at all times. The habit of reasoning on the
tion, and the ultimate point to which all are construction, the syntax of one language, is,
tending. Now, in order to convey perfectly of course, generally applicable to others ; and
to others the meaning, which he has himself its practice in connection with Latin tends by
laboriously acquired, he must not only have an amount of experience which countervails
made an exact logical analysis of the sentence, all theory, to prepare the pupil for learning
so as to see what he has to say, but must his own language thoroughly.
exercise his judgment and taste (not to say
In addition to the grammatical advantage
knowledge) on the choice of words and just named, there are two others I would men
phrases which will best answer the purpose, tion, which prove that learning Latin is a
and truly represent the clearness, energy, or good preparation for the better knowledge of
eloquence of the author. To do this fault the mother tongue. The one is, that as so large
lessly requires of course the matured judg a part of the vocabulary of the English lan
ment and refined taste of the accomplished guage is derived from the Latin, either directly,
scholar; but the very effort involved in the or indirectly through the French, no accurate
attempt to grasp the spirit of the author, to study of the former can be accomplished
rise to the elevation of his thoughts, and to gain without a fundamental knowledge of Latin.
the sympathy of others for them by an ade According to Archbishop Trench, thirty per
quate and worthy representation of them in
his native language, cannot but elevate his
* As the analysis of sentences is now become a
own mental stature. “ We strive to ascend,
regular part of the study of English in all good
and we ascend in our striving.”
schools, I would strongly recommend its also being
The advantages of such a course as I have made ancillary in the study of Latin. Lessons on
a sentence,
and
now sketched must be acknowledged to be the essential elements of predicative,on “subject” and
“predicate,” and on the
attributive,
very great, although only the language is as other relations (such as may be found admirably dis
Mason English Grammar),
form
yet under consideration. But there are two or played in of the ’steaching of Latin, asshould do of
the basis
they
three other points that must not be omitted. English, syntax. Their application to Caesar, Cicero,
The first of these is the value of the strict or Virgil, would be not only most valuable in itself
as mental training, but would greatly lessen the diffi
grammatical analysis required. The process culties felt by a boy in dealing with complicated
of eliciting light out _of darkness, before constructions which are new-Jto him.
�23
cent, of the vocabulary actually used by our
authors is derived from the Latin; and the
proportion is still greater, if we analyse the
columns of our English dictionary, where the
words are what is called “ at rest.” Indeed,
to so great a degree have we admitted these
aliens into our language, that we have learnt
to attach Latin prefixes and suffixes to pure
English roots, so as to form new and hybiid
compounds. But further,—and this point is
less obvious than that just adduced,—as almost
all our greatest authors were trained in the clas
sical school, both their vocabulary and phrase
ology, their language and their thoughts,
bear a characteristic stamp upon them which
can only be fully appreciated by those who
have undergone a similar training. It is not too
much to say that many exquisite graces, both
of thought and expression, in the works of
Bacon, Milton, Sir T. Brown, Jeremy Taylor,
Sir W. Temple, Gray, Young, Cowper, and
others, must elude the notice—and so far fail in
their object—of a reader not qualified to meet
the authors as it were on their own ground.
*
And may I add that, as far as my own observa
tion goes, by far the most enthusiastic lovers
of our own language and literature are the
votaries of classical learning. They love more
because they can appreciate better.
But it will be thought that I have sufficiently
pleaded the cause of Latin as fai as the lan
*
guage is concerned. I must, therefore, devote a
few words to its literature. In a course such as
I have proposed, and which I would commence
at 12, with the idea of carrying it on up to
the age of 16, and employing in it half the
hours of every school day, and which would
comprehend, besides the study of the lan
guage, such cultivation of geography, history,
* Examples are numberless: just three or four
occur at this moment. Take Milton—
“ Satan exalted sat, by merit raised
To that bad eminence.”—(Par. Lost, ii. 5.)
“ The undaunted fiend what this might be admired ;
Admired, not feared.”—(Par. Lost, ii. 677.)
“ That wise and civil Roman, Julius Agricola.”
(Areopagitica.)
“ Sadness does, in some cases, become aChristian, as
being an index of a pious mind, of compassion, and a
wise, proper resentment of things.”—(Jeremy Taylor.)
‘‘ Prevent us, 0 Lord, with thy most gracious favour.”
(Book of Common Prayer.)
“ This proud man affects imperial sway.”—(Dryden.)
It is obvious that a mere English scholar, unedu
cated in classics, would not, of himself, see the exact
meaning of the words in italics.
archaeology, <fcc., as would be required for the
elucidation of the text, and also the parallel
study of English literature, we could not hope
to read many authors. Indeed, faithful to
the principle, multum non multa, I would not
even attempt it. A selection of the best might
be made, to be studied on the principle that
they were to be actually known, not merely
“ gone through,”* by means of which not only
would the pupil profit by the invigorating dis
cipline I have described, but be subjected to
the enlarging and refining influence which
would place him in communion with some of
the master spirits of antiquity, and therefore
give him an introduction to those great authors
of all modern times whose labours have tended
to form the civilization of Europe. In no
other way can he so well be introduced to the
commonwealth of letters, and be made free
to avail himself of its privileges. The fact
that these finished works of literary art still
survive amongst us, as real substantial powers
whose influence cannot be gainsaid, is a won
drous proof of their merit as models of com
position. They present us with histories which
still enlighten and instruct men in the art of
government, with oratory which still speaks
in trumpet tones to the human heart, with
poetry still “musical as is Apollo’s lute”; in
short, with matter which, however now dispar
aged, has served in successive ages both to
furnish men with thoughts, and to teach them
how to think; so that in truth, though styled
dead, they are, in the highest sense, ever liv
ing ; having (to use Hobbes’s eloquent expres
sion) “ put off flesh and blood, and put on
immortality.”
But I must pass in review a few of the
objections commonly taken against the posi
tions I have maintained in this paper.
1st. Some object to the very principle of a
central or fundamental study, and denounce it
as a fundamental fallacy. Since it is admitted,
they say, that it is not so much the subject as
the manner of learning it that constitutes the
discipline, one subject is as good as another ;
and as it is a matter of great importance to
interest the pupil, we had better adopt sub
jects pro re nata, which seem likely to accom
plish that object, without respect to their rank
in the circle of knowledge. We may thus se
* See Appendix, D.
�cure the object in view without the difficulty,
perplexity, hard work, and sometimes even
tears, which are attendant on a stricter disci
pline, and which often set the pupil against
learning altogether. To refute this objection,
I should have to repeat much of my previous
argument, in which you will remember I con
tended for the upholding of one subject, or at
least very few subjects, on the principle that
while, with regard to some, we may be con
tented with a general knowledge, there should
be one at least which should be learned as well
as possible, and serve as a sort of standard of
comparison. I accept, however, these objec
tions as valid, on condition that those who
uphold them will promise that their pupils
shall not shirk the drudgery, the drill, which
must be undergone in the learning of any sub
ject whatever, and which often constitutes the
most valuable part of the process; that in
teaching music they will strictly require the
“ practice” and also the “grammar of music
in teaching languages, perfect grammatical
analysis; in teaching science, rigidly close
attention to details, however irksome, and
to every step of the reasoning properly de
duced from them. If the objectors accept
this test, they surrender the position that the
study is to be accommodated to the pupil, and
therefore tacitly allow the principle of a train
ing subject; if they do not, they are driven
back upon the Chrestomathic curriculum, and
the idea of real education, as I understand the
term, is given up.
2nd. It is maintained that if a leading sub
ject is desirable, modem languages, or our
jown, would more usefully occupy that position.
First, with regard to the modern languages.
Their eminent claims to a high place in our
curriculum are at once admitted. They have a
great practical value as languages; and their
literatures are brilliant and attractive, and
fraught with modern interest. Both French
and German, too, have affinities with English,
the one as being a daughter of that paternal
stock from which we derive so much, and the
other as belonging to the great Teutonic
family of languages, of which ours is also a
member. Then, in consequence of the in
creasing intercourse between nations, they are
becoming every day more and more useful;
and lastly, involving as they do many of the
advantages claimed for Latin, they are much
more easily and rapidly acquired; These are
valid reasons for admission into the curriculum,
but not for taking the leading place in it. As
to French, so many of its words resemble our
own, and its construction is apparently so
simple and transparent, that a pupil is
tempted to guess or scramble at the meaning,
rather than carefully approach it by thought
ful consideration, as he must do in Latin.
Without dwelling on this as an evil in itself,
I must insist on it as a great disadvantage in
a training subject. A certain amount of
resistance, enough to encourage effort, and not
enough to intimidate, is an advantage rather
than otherwise to the pupil. It serves to detain
him awhile in face of the difficulty, and gives
him the opportunity of estimating both it and
the resources with which past experience has
furnished him for its solution, and thus trains
the mind to encounter successfully other diffi
culties. On the other hand, as we avowedly
learn French and German more for practical
than literary purposes, more as means than
ends, the less resistance we meet with, the
more rapid the acquisition, the better. The
training subject is, however, in a certain sense,
the end itself; and losing time in acquiring
it may be an ultimate gain. The same general
remarks apply, though less strictly, to Ger
man, which I have recommended as a sub
stitute for Greek.
Secondly, as to the claims of English to
occupy the leading place. The main objec
tion to this claim, as far as the language
itself is concerned, is that we are, as is some
times said of a material object, too near to see
it. We must stand at some distance from it,
in order to comprehend its form and features,
or, which is often easier, study the form and
features of something else of the same kind,
and then apply the knowledge thus gained to
the case in point. Those who ask us to study
the general principles of grammar, by the
acknowledgment of all so valuable, in our
own language first, pretend that they are
substituting the easy for the difficult; but it
is not so. The real difficulty is to abstract the
clear and transparent medium in which our
ideas circulate, and to view it by itself. So
with the study of human nature; obvious as
it seems to look at home, to know ourselves,
to watch the operations of our own hearts and
minds, yet general experience admits that it
�25
is far easier to gather its principles from valuable, so indispensable, as a means to the
observing the actions of other men projected, end they have in view, the attainment of com
as it were, before our view, and favourably plete command over them, that they recommend
adapted for our examination. Our own lan constant repetition of the same exercise until
guage, then, is to be the object, rather than it is thoroughly mastered, rather than rapid
the means, of our pupil’s training. Through advancement to the next stage of knowledge;
out his entire course his training in another so that for a while—to the horror of the objec
language is preparing him most effectually to tors just quoted—they treat the means as if
learn his own, and the practical application of they were the end. The usual success of this
the disciplinary power should keep pace with policy may perhaps be allowed to pass as an
its attainment.
argument for its continuance. This view, of
Another objection against the spirit of the course, does not satisfy those who think that
method I would recommend has been taken, everything should be made pleasant to a child
and may be deserving of a brief treatment. —that he should have no experience of diffi
It is said that much of what I have described culty, or trial, or ennui.
*
Such is not, how
is simply “drill,” and that it is absurd to ever the spirit of the old system. We con
expend a great amount of labour on mental sider that the man who has not encountered
gymnastics, merely for the sake of the dis and overcome difficulties is only half a man.
cipline, while, by taking up a more suitable Nor would we be so little friendly to the child
subject, we may get both discipline and know as to remove them all from his path, and
ledge together. Why, says the objector, make leave him unwarned and unprepared for those
a postman, who has to walk about all day, go which he must meet with in his journey through
through a preliminary drill every morning, life. If the result of the training be that the
since he gets his exercise in his work ? And pupil comes forth from it firm in mind and
*
the argument seems to be, that exercise for limb, robust and well developed, in perfect
the direct purpose of developing power, which health and capable of enduring fatigue, we
may be developed by ordinary action, is un may be well contented with these as the results
desirable. Without attempting a full reply of the process that he has gone through.
to this objection, I would however suggest,
And now, before closing my paper, I would
in the first place, that, if logically carried out, make a few remarks on the pretensions of
it would abolish education altogether. If the science to supersede—for that is what some re
ordinary spontaneous action is sufficient, teach formers aim at—the classical training of our
ing is tyranny, for it implies that the pupil schools. I have shown my appreciation of the
must be constrained. Why not allow the great value of science, not only in itself, but
child to wander about and play from morning as a means of education; but I confess that I
to night, ‘ ‘ at his own sweet will ’ ’ ? His senses have not, never having been enlightened on this
and his thoughts will be employed in some way point, a clear idea of the manner in which it
or another, and practice will make perfect. is to be taught, so as to be a real mental dis
No teacher, however, adopts such principles cipline in schools. Those gentlemen—one of
as these, nor are they worthy of serious refu whom we proudly include in the governing
tation. Secondly, I would remark that the body of our College — who a few years
practice of all professed trainers, whether of
men or animals, refutes the objection. In
* This too is one of the notions of Mr. Spencer.
order to make a soldier, it is generally thought Everything is to be made easy and delightful. He
forgets that this is not really consistent with his own
well to keep him on the parade-ground a long idea of education as a preparation for life. A prac
time, doing goose or other steps, which he is tical teacher would remind him of the established
not to use at all after the training is over. So dictum, On ne s'instruit pas era s’amusant. Every
study is, indeed, to be rendered interesting to the
it is with music, dancing, riding, rowing, and pupil. The work of the teacher fails if he does not
other accomplishments, in which the training accomplish this. The apt teacher, however, succeeds,
not by amusing his pupil, but by sympathising with
exercises are the essence of the teaching. The him, and thus gaining his confidence—by under
teachers of these arts consider practice so standing and entering into his difficulties—by en
* See Atkinson’s pamphlet, before quoted, p. 33.
couraging him with word or look, when he is puzzled,
—never intruding help when it is not needed, never
withholding it when it is.
�26
ago, at the Royal Institution, pleaded so noble, aspirations. But the question returns,
eloquently the claims of chemistry, physics, How is science to be taught ? It will not be
*
philology, phys'ology, and economic science, pretended that the scientific mind is formed
to be adopted in the curriculum as branches by a lecture once a week on electricity or
of education for all classes, meant of course chemistry, as the case may be, nor by the
that all these subjects were to be intro occasional cramming of a text-book on the
duced. Even lately, two gentlemen, every subject. The advocates of science mean some
way competent to speak upon the subject, thing far transcending this, or they mean
have urged in this room the claims of botany just nothing. But I am compelled to say
and zoology as branches of education for all that their utterances on the practical part of
classes. We have, then—breaking up Professor the subject are singularly vague and unsatis
Tyndall’s “physics” into mechanics, hydro factory. “Teach science,” they say; but
statics, optics, pneumatics, sound, heat, &c„ then Professor Huxley does not mean, teach
some fifteen or twenty subjects claiming ad Pneumatics, he means, teach Physiology.
mission into the school curriculum. I again Professor Tyndall means by these words,
ask, how are they to be taught ? Each of Physics, and not Botany, and so on. Each
these accomplished men of course considers thinks, and naturally enough, that his own
his own special subject as worthy of every special subject is the one to be taught, and
attention, and would not be satisfied with therefore the general recommendation in
the communication of a mere smattering volves the teaching of them all, and we come
of it as representing his idea of its value. back to the Chrestomathic idea which, pre
Would any one of them be contented to hand sented pur et simple to these authorities in
over his subject to either Mr. Bentham or Mr. science, would be indignantly rejected. I
Spencer to teach ? Certainly not. They would have read with much interest the evidence
all wish the subjects which they know so well, given before the late Commission on Public
which they appreciate so highly, and on which Schools, by those eminent men, Carpenter,
they have expended so much thought and Lyell, Faraday, Hooker, Owen, Airey, and
labour themselves, to be thoroughly taught— Acland. Whatever such men say must, of
to become a real possession of the pupil. But course, be interesting ; but I confess that the
how is this to be done ? That is the question, impression left on my mind was not that of pro
the satisfactory solution of which will do more found admiration for their practical “faculty.”
to advance the claims of science to admission Their remarks and suggestions—very valuable,
into the curriculum than all the arguments no doubt, as “hints”—leave the real difficulties
that have hitherto been adduced. We hear of teaching science in schools untouched; and
the pleadings in favour of each fair claimant indeed will be found so various and inconsistent
for our regard, as she appears before us,—we as frequently to neutralize one another. With
admire her charms,—we admire all the char very few exceptions, these eminent men scarcely
mers,—but we cannot marry them all; we seem to have perceived, or at least appreciated,
cannot take them all for better, for worse, the fundamental principle, that teaching sci
to have and to hold, &c.
ence does not mean teaching electricity, or
What, then, are we to do ? We not only optics, or chemistry, or geology, but training
admit, but claim, the aid of science in educa the mind to scientific method; and that if all
tion. That general enlightenment—that apt the “ologies,” from A to Z, are to have a
handling of business—“faculty,” as some peo chance of occupying the field, a general meltie
ple callit; that appreciation of cause and effect; will be the result, which will effectually frus
that comprehension of details under general trate the object. In that case, all the sci
laws ; these, which are the proper fruits of ences might be taught—if that is the word
scientific culture, would form the best correc for it—but science would not be learned.
tive of Literature, would simplify and give a Dr. Acland’s evidence is, however, very much
definite aim to her somewhat vague, though to the point. He had clearly given thought
to the subject, and handled it like a man of
* The lectures were delivered by Drs. Whewell, business. He recommended that Physics, Che
Faraday, Latham, Daubeny, and Hodgson, and
mistry, and Physiology should be required of
Messrs. Tyndall and Paget.
�"As an educational means,” he says, in a letter
all educated men, and that the two former
should be learnt at school. When reminded, published by Mr. T. Dyke Acland, in a document
prepared by the latter for the Commission, “ che
however, that the Matriculation Examination mistry is not to be compared with other means of
of the London University comprised these and training the mind.......... The direct benefit result
other cognate subjects, he gave an opiuion, in ing from the teaching of analytical chemistry in
which I confess I agree, upon the value of such schools is nil.......... I grant that two or three boys
out of fifty may be benefited by practical instruc
scientific teaching as that examination pre tion in experimental and analytical chemistry;
supposes. It is so much to the point that 1 but am also bound to add, that the rest only
will quote it:—“ I may say, genei ally, that I waste the time which may be more usefully em
This is the result,
should value all knowledge of these physical ployed. experience, but also not only of my own
personal
that of many of my
sciences very little indeed unless it was other scientific friends in this country, at least of those
wise than book-work. If it is merely a ques who love science and desire its prosperity. More
tion of getting up certain books, and being over, I would direct your attention to the fact,
that the attempt has been made in Germany, on a
able to answer certain book-questions, that is large scale, to teach chemistry practically in
merely an exercise of the memory of a very schools for lads under sixteen years of age, and has
useless kind. The great object, though not proved so complete a iailure, that it has been all
the sole object, of the training should be to but universally abandoned in my native country.”
It appears, then, that there are difficulties in
get the boys to observe and understand the
action of matter in-some department or another, the way of teaching science, even where the
and though I am perfectly aware that what is subject is well chosen, the field comparatively
called practical knowledge, if merely mani limited, and the means and appliances am
pulatory, on any subject whatever, is a humble ply provided. Dr. Volcker’s cold and dry
thing enough ; yet, on the other hand, I must experience does not perfectly accord with Mr.
say that the utmost amount of knowledge on Spencer’s enthusiastic theory, and does not go
these subjects, without that practical and expe to prove that children eagerly hunger after
rimental knowledge, is to most persons nearly scientific knowledge as they do after their daily
as useless. You want the combination of the food. Of course it is easy to throw the blame
two; and for youths, I value very little the of failure on the teacher; but Dr. Volcker’s
mere acquisition of a quantity of book-facts on words are too definite, and apply to too large
these subjects. I want them to see and know an area to admit of this. Still, there can be
the things, and in that way they will evoke no manner of doubt that science is immensely
many qualities of the mind which the study of attractive; that it is favoured by the spirit
these subjects is intended to develope.” Thus of the age; and that it will and ought to
speaks the true teacher and votary of science, be extensively taught in schools. But its
llis anxiety is to form the scientific mind, not educational advocates have, as yet, no prac
merely to communicate information on science. tical plan involving good scientific discipline,
From a great part of the evidence of the men and no well digested results, to show. Their
whose names I just quoted, you can only gather voice will be powerful enough when they
a commentary, by “eminenthands” certainly, have, and will command the attention of
on the text, “ That the soul be without know all. As the case now stands, we have pracledge, it is not good;” which—though not a I tice on the one side, and theory on the other.
Solomon myself—I would supplement by add An amount of experience which no one can
ing, “ That the soul attempt to grasp all effectually gainsay attests the value of the
knowledge, it is not wise.”
Classical training ; while an amount of theo
Dr. Acland, it will be observed, recommends retical plausibility, which no sane man can
that chemistry be adopted as a general study ; affect to despise, supports the claims of Science
and from some little opportunity I have had of to a trial. Why should there not be a com
seeing that this subject may, to a certain promise ? Intellectual education is strictly the
extent, be adopted into the school course, I training of all the mental faculties in the best
should have thought it a wise suggestion. But way. Science teaches better, that is, more
observe what a practical teacher of chemistry on directly and thoroughly, than any other study,
a large scale, Dr. Volcker, of the Cirencester how to observe, how to arrange and classify,
Agricultural College, says on this point:—
how to connect causes with effects, how to
�estimate the practical value of facts. Why
not adopt it then as the proper complement
of the literary element ? Let botany be taught
quite early in life,—in the first stage of instruc
tion,—together with such parts of physics as
give general views of science, and interest the
mind in it. In the second stage, let some one or
two branches of physics be taken as the basis
of a sound training in science, with a view to the
formation of the really scientific mind.
*
The
classical course would thrive the better for the
collateral study of science, and the scientific
would thrive the better for the classical.
Why should not both work harmoniously
together in the curriculum ?
The principle appears to be sound in general,
that the spirit of the age should be repre
sented in the education of our schools;—
this is the reforming element of the question.
See Appendix, E.
At the same time it seems equally reasonable
that we should not forego our hold on that
mighty past of which the present is the legi
timate offspring ;—and this is the conservative
element. It is well for the son, when prepared
for the world of life, to leave his father’s home
and create one for himself. It is not well that
he should do so too early, before he is prepared.
Physical science may become—probably is des
tined to become—the organic representative of
the civilisation of the age. At present it can
not be so considered ; and its claims, therefore,
to take the lead in the curriculum of education
are inadmissible. While it is labouring to
attain that position, 1 would advise its votaries
to aid those of classical instruction in securing
the great advantages of the training I have
recommended. The minds so prepared would
be the fittest of all for sharing in the researches
of science, and promoting its triumphs.
�APPENDIX.
It is necessary to say this, since the confound
A. (See page 11.)
ing of the two is evident in many of the docu
In a very interesting address of Lord Ash ments that have been published of late on these
burton’s, at the Meeting of Schoolmasters in very important subjects. Many persons seem
Manchester, in 1853, we find the follow to fancy that the elements that should consti
ing remarkable words :—“ In this progressive tute a sound and manly education are anta
country we neglect all that knowledge in which gonistic ; that the cultivation of taste through
there is progress, to devote ourselves to those purely literary studies, and of reasoning
branches in which we are scarcely, if at all, supe through logic and mathematics, one or both,
rior to our ancestors. In this practical country, is opposed to the training in the equally im
theknowledgeof all thatgives power over nature portant matter of observation through those
is left to be picked up by chance on a man’s sciences that are descriptive and experimental.
way through life. In this religious country, Surely this is an error. Partisanship of the
the knowledge of God’s works forms no part one or other method, or rather department, of
of the education of the people, no part even mental training, to the exclusion of the rest,
of the accomplishments of a gentleman.” is a narrow-minded and cramping view, from
It appears from this passage that Lord Ash whatsoever point it be taken. Equal develop
burton does, after all, consider this to be a ment and strengthening of all are required for
progressive, practical, and religious country, the constitution of the complete mind ; and it
though nothing would seem to be done to is full time that we should begin to do now
make it so. The work goes on, and bravely what we ought to have done long ago.”
too, in spite of the assumed general low level
of attainments, and the indifference with
regard to progress. Lord Ashburton does
C. (Seep. 19.)
not see that there is, in fact, no “ common
“ The purpose of Milton, as it seems, was
measure” between the progress of a nation to teach something more solid than the com
and that of an individual. The time may mon literature of schools, by reading those
come when the progress of knowledge and the I authors that treat of physical subjects, such
practical applications of it may be tenfold as the Georgic (i.e. agricultural) and astrono
what they now are. But we shall still have to mical treatises of the ancients. This was a
consider the average capacity of the race as a scheme of improvement which seems to have
“constant quantity,’’and frame our curriculum busied many literary projectors of that age.
accordingly. The progress in question arises Cowley, who had more means than Milton of
from the impulses generated in the minds of knowing what was wanting in the embellish
those who, being endowed beyond their fellows, ments of life, formed the same plan of education
stand forth as their leaders to the promised in hi3 imaginary college.
land ; but the common mass have to begin at
“ But the truth is, that the knowledge of
the beginning still in their instruction, just as external nature, and the sciences which that
if none had gone before them.
knowledge requires or includes, are not the
great or the frequent business of the. human
mind. Whether we provide for action or con
B. (See page 17.)
versation, whether we wish to be useful or
The following valuable remarks on the cul pleasing, the first requisite is the religious and
tivation of the observing powers are from an moral knowledge of right and wrong; the
“ Introductory Lecture” on the Educational next is an acquaintance with the history of
Uses of Museums, by the late Professor Ed mankind, and with those examples which may
ward Forbes, 1865:—
be said to embody truth and prove by events
“ The great defect of our systems of educa the reasonableness of opinions. Prudence and
tion is the neglect of the educating of the ob justice are virtues and excellencies of all times
serving powers—a very distinct matter, be it and of all places; we are perpetually moralists,
noted, from scientific or industrial instruction. but we are geometricians only by chance. Our
�30
intercourse with intellectual nature is neces
sary ; our speculations upon matter are volun
tary and at leisure. Physiological (physical?)
learning is of such rare emergence that a man
may know another half his life without being
able to estimate his skill in hydrostatics or
astronomy; but his moral and prudential cha
racter immediately appears. Those authors,
therefore, are to be read at schools that supply
most maxims of prudence, most principles of
moral truth, and most materials for conversa
tion; and these purposes are best served by
poets, orators, and historians.” (Johnson’s
Lives of the Poets, vol. i. p. 92.)
D.
(See page 23.)
E.
_ Subjoined is a scheme of an amended cur
riculum :—
First Stage of Instruction.
(From about eight to twelve years of age.)
First Division (about two years).
1. Reading, Spelling, and Writing.
2. History, Scriptural and English.
3. Geography, Topographical and Physical.
4. French, Elementary Speaking and Read
ing.
5. Lessons on Objects.
6. Lessons on Words.
7. Arithmetic, chiefly Mental.
Second Division (about two years).
Same subjects, as far as may be necessary,
with
Arithmetic, as an art generally.
Botany, Structural ana Systematic.
Elementary Physics, general facts and
phenomena.
English Grammar, Parsing and Analysis
of Sentences.
Merely as a suggestion, the following scheme 1.
for the study of Latin may be proposed :—
2.
1. Dr. W. Smith’s Principia Latina, Parts I. 3.
and II.
4.
2. C®sar—De Bello Gallico.
3. Virgil—Eclogse, books 1, 3, 4, and 5.
Georgica, books 1 and 2.
Second Stage of Instruction.
JEneis, books I, 2, 3, 6, and 12.
(From about twelve to sixteen years of age.)
4. Cicero—Oratio pro Milone.
First Division (about two years).
Orationes in Catilinam.
Proportion of
De Amicitia.
time, taking
5. Livy, books 1 and 21.
40 hours per
week for
6. Terence—Andria.
school-work.
7. Tacitus—Agricola.
1. Latin, taught as a training subject 20
Annales, books 1 and 2.
2. French and German, practical
8. Horace—Odse, Epistolse, and Ars Poetica.
mainly ....................................
5
3. Mathematics, especially Euclid ...
5
This matter should be thoroughly studied in 4. Physics, taught as a training sub
the spirit of the method described in the text
ject ...........................................
6
(pp. 13, 20, 21), and would require therefore’to 5. English Language and Literature 5
be gone over, parts of it at least—the Caesar and
Second Division (about two years).
Virgil—three times: first very slowly, weighing
and investigating nearly every word; the second 1. Latin (time diminished)............... 10
time less deliberately, improving the transla 2. French and German (time increased
for more composition) ........... 10
tion and enlarging the illustration; and the
third time rapidly and in good English, so as 3. Mathematics — analytical, with
practical applications ...........
5
to evince familiarity with both language and
matter. The passages from Virgil and Horace 4. Chemistry or Human Physiology 10
5. English Language and Literature 5
should be committed to memory.
Of course “Latin” and “English” both in
clude the subjects—such as geography, history,
archaeology—which may be necessary for their
illustration.
�
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The curriculum of modern education, and the respective claims of classics and science to be represented: being the substance of two lectures delivered at the monthly evening meetings of the College of Perceptors, April 11th, & May 9th, 1866
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Payne, Joseph [1808-1876.]
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Payne presents his recommendations for the reformation of the curriculum. He writes of his belief that science should be fully introduced and that education should represent the spirit of the age.
Place of publication: London
Collation: 30 p. ; 24 cm.
Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Inscription on title page: With the author's compliments. Printed in double columns. Includes appendices.
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Virtue, Brothers, & Co.
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1866
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Education
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Classical Education
Education
Science and Education
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Text
® t s f i in £rn i HI s
IN FAVOUR OF THE
■M.
REV. JOHN BURNELL PAYNE, \A.,
CANDIDATE FOR THE PROFESSORSHIP
OF ENGLISH
LITERATURE
AND HISTORY AT OWEN’S COLLEGE, MANCHESTER.
�INDEX.
I. Professor Birkbeck.
II. E. E. Bowen, Esq.
III. Rev. W. G. Clark.
IV. Rev. T. L. Kinsbury.
V. F. T. Palgrave, Esq.
VI. H. Sidgwick, Esq.
VII. C. A. Buchheim, Ph.D.
VIII. H. Lee Warner, Esq.
IX. Henry Jackson, M.A.
X. A. Sidgwick.
XI. Oscar Browning.
XII. F. C. Hodgson.
XIII. A. C. Swinburne.
XIV. Thos. Woolmer.
XV. Thos. Hodgson.
XVI. A. W. Benson.
XVII. T. H. Fisher.
XVIII. Joseph Bickersteth.
XIX. De Guingand.
�Wellington College,
May 12, 1866,
Gentlemen,
In forwarding for your inspection my Testimonials, I beg
to state a few other particulars which I think may be important.
I am 27 years of age, and unmarried.
In 1858 I took the Degree of B.A. in the University of London,
with Classical Honours.
I had previously studied for two years at University College,
London. The length of time since my connection with University
College ceased, alone prevented my troubling the Trustees with
Testimonials from my Tutors there, who were good enough to
help me to gain a position as private tutor shortly after my
leaving there.
In 1860 I entered at Trinity College, Cambridge, which I left
in 1862, on gaining a Scholarship, open to the whole University,
at Downing College,
In 1864 I took the Degree of B.A., and was in the Second
Class in Classical Honours, First Class in the Moral Sciences
Tripos.
After Christmas 1864-5 I became an Assistant-Master here,
and at the Christmas Ordination 1865-6 I was ordained Deacon
by the Bishop of Oxford.
Trusting that if I receive the honour of your selection I may
deserve it, and assured that my best efforts will in that case be
devoted to the service of your College,
I remain, Gentlemen,
Your obedient Servant,
J. B. PAYNE,
The Trustees of Owen’s College, Manchester,
��TESTIMONIALS.
*
I
Downing College,
June Is?, 1864.
My dear Sir,
From the opportunity I have had of forming an opinion,
I believe you possess very considerable knowledge of English
and General Literature, as well as the power of expressing your
views with facility and clearness. I have no doubt that you
would perform with much ability the duties of the office for
which you are a candidate.
Believe me, my dear Sir,
Yours very sincerely,
W. Ll. birkbeck,
Downing Professor of Laws in the
University of Cambridge.
To J. B. Payne, Esq.
* This Testimonial and others marked with an asterisk were presented in
support of an application for the Professorship of English Literature at Lam
peter College.
B 2
�6
II *
Harrow, N.W.
Gentlemen,
Having been informed that my friend Mr. J. B. Payne is
a candidate for the Professorship of English Literature and
History at Owen’s College, I have no hesitation in stating
my belief that the College will be most fortunate should it
succeed in obtaining his services.
Everyone who has known Cambridge for the last few
years must be aware of the reputation which Mr. Payne
has acquired for proficiency in these and kindred subjects. I am
not in a position to speak with authority on his classical attain
ments, to which he will of course find many to do justice ; but
I know him to be well versed in the literature of our own
country as well as that of others, and to be, both in speaking
and in writing, no mean master of the language.
By his knowledge, fluency, and taste, Mr. Payne is eminently fitted for lecturing a class; and his general ability and
high character will be esteemed by every student.
I have the honor to be, Gentlemen,
Your obedient Servant,
E. E. BOAVEN,
Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge; AssistantMaster in Harrow School.
HI.
Cambridge.
Mr. J. Burnell Payne, B.A., of Downing College, and
late of Trinity, informs me that he is a candidate for the vacant
Professorship at Owen’s College.
I have much pleasure in stating that in my opinion he is well
qualified for such an office. He has excellent abilities, and an
extensive knowledge of Modern Literature, English, German, and
French. As he is also able to express himself with fluency, he
would, in my opinion, be an effective lecturer.
W. G. CLARK,
Tutor of Trinity College {Public Orator
in the University').
�7
.
*
IV
Trinity College, Cambridge.
I have known Mr. Payne intimately for some years, and
have great pleasure in expressing my conviction that he is
eminently fitted by his literary tastes and habits, an extraordinarily
wide range of reading, and his familiar acquaintance with other
modern literatures beside that of his own country, to discharge
with peculiar efficiency and credit the duties of the post for
which he is a candidate.
Having received his education partly in Germany, he has
diligently availed himself of the opportunities thus afforded him
of acquiring a familiar and accurate knowledge of the language
and literature of that country, and his proficiency in both
respects is such as even the most cultivated Englishmen very
rarely attain to.
T. L. KINGSBURY,
Chaplain of Trinity College.
N
Whitehall.
• Having had the pleasure of knowing Mr. J. B. Payne
for some years, and having myself had considerable experience
in the line of work which he is desirous of carrying on at
Manchester, I think that I may, without presumption, express
the opinion that he possesses more than common qualifications
for a “ Professorship of English Literature, Language, and
History.” In English Literature, which has more frequently been
discussed between us, he seems to me to have an unusually wide
and accurate range of knowledge, with a lively power of criticising
what he has read. I think him a man successful in giving
others the interest which he himself feels in literature, and that,
as a teacher, he would be eminently likely to lead his pupils to a
broad, and, at the same time, an accurate knowledge of his
subject.
F. T. PALGRAVE,
Late Fellow of Exeter College, Oxford, and VicePresident of the Kneller Hall Normal
Training School; at present Examiner in the
Education Office.
�8
*
VI
Gentlemen,
I am requested to testify to the qualifications of Mr. J. B.
Payne for the Professorship of English and General Literature.
I have known Mr. Payne intimately for some years, and am con
vinced that he is unusually well qualified for such a post. His
acquaintance with our own literature, especially the earlier
writers, is very extensive. His knowledge of the French and
German languages is accurate and complete, and his familiarity
with the best writings in those languages remarkable in an
Englishman. He has a sensitive perception of style, and a sound
and cultivated judgment of literary merit of all kinds. He has
laboriously mastered the writings of the most important thinkers
in England and on the Continent, since the re-awakening of
thought in Europe ; and has successfully trained his mind to take
profound and philosophic views of all subjects upon which he
employs it. He, moreover, combines with this capacity for wide
and general views a strong interest in the individualties of
different authors, and a genuine enthusiasm which would prevent
the study of literature from ever becoming a dry and lifeless one
in his hands.
I cannot blit add, that he possesses in a high degree the power
of stimulating other minds with which he comes into contact,
and of communicating to them his own vivid intellectual interest.
This faculty, combined with the clearness of head and readiness
of expression that he possesses, can hardly fail to render him a
successful teacher.
I am, Gentlemen,
Faithfully yours,
HENRY SIDGWICK,
Fellow and Assistant Tutor of Trinity College,
Cambridge.
�9
VII.
King’s College London,
May Yith, 1866.
Enjoying the privilege of a personal acquaintance with
Mr. Payne, of Wellington College, I have much pleasure in
bearing testimony to his high literary attainments, and to his
perfect knowledge of the history and literature, not only of his
own country, but also of that of Germany and France. As a
further recommendation of Mr. Payne, for whom I entertain the
highest respect both as a scholar and a gentleman, I beg to add
that he possesses in an eminent degree a sincere devotion to the
educational profession, and that he is fully acquainted with the
best methods of teaching.
C. A. BUCHHEIM, Ph.D.,
Professor of the German Language and Literature
in King's College; and Examiner in German
to the University of London.
VIII.
Rugby,
May 10, 1866.
My Dear Payne,
I have much pleasure in being able to testify to my
belief that you know more of English Literature than most of
your and my contemporaries at Cambridge. If I am at all
qualified to judge, your knowledge was of a very superior kind;
and of this I am certain, that 1 often derived great instruction
from a walk or a talk with you. Of your fitness for the place, as
regards the interest you take in the subject, no one could doubt.
Of your proficiency I have no doubt.
Believe me,
Yours sincerely,
H. LEE WARNER,
Fellow of S. John's College, Cambridge, Assistant
Master in Rugby School.
�10
IX.
Having been informed that Mr. J. B. Payne, of Downing
College, Cambridge, is a candidate for the vacant Professorship
of English Language and Literature at Owen’s College, Man
chester, I have great pleasure in testifying to my belief of his
fitness for the post. During the last three years I have had
frequent opportunities of forming an estimate of his knowledge
and abilities. He has read extensively in all branches of
literature : in particular he has studied vour early authors with
unusual care. I well remember his acute and just criticisms
upon certain of our less known poets. His own style is fluent
and lively. His love of the artistic, which amounts to
enthusiasm, joined with a remarkable faculty of continuous
exposition and great fertility of illustration, cannot fail to
interest any audience.
I may add that Mr. Payne is well acquainted with the
literature of Greece and Rome, and with the principal languages
of modern Europe.
HENRY JACKSON, M.A.,
Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge.
X.
Rugby,
May 10, 1866.
Gentlemen,
Mr. J. B. Payne was an intimate friend of mine during a
considerable part of my residence at Cambridge, and I am there
fore in a position to speak of his abilities not without confidence.
His acquaintance with English Literature is unusually exten
sive ; and he is at the same time possessed of a vividness and
fluency in his powers of expression which cannot fail to stimulate
all whom he has to teach.
His critical powers are sensitive and developed; and he
belongs to that small class, even among cultivated men, whose
minds can be said to be really active.
As a teacher of any subject he knows, he would be un
doubtedly good; of a subject with which he is so well acquainted
as English Literature he would be most excellent.
Believe me,
Yours obediently,
ARTHUR SIDGWICK.
�11
XI.
Eton College,
May 11.
I am extremely glad to hear that my friend the Rev. J. B.
P^yne is a candidate for the Professorship of English Language,
Literature, and History at Owen’s College, Manchester, as, from
his great knowledge of English and Foreign Literature, his
cultivated taste for beauty, and his clearness and facility of
expression, he appears to me admirably suited to fill such a post
with credit.
OSCAR BROWNING,
Assistant Master at Eton College.
XII.
May 11, 1866.
I have very great pleasure in stating that I believe
Mr. J. B. Payne, who is now a Candidate for the Professorship
of English Language and Literature at Owen’s College, to be
exceedingly well qualified by a wide acquaintance with English
Literature for that position. I believe also that his intimate
knowledge of the Language and Literature of France and Ger
many, as well as of the results of the Science of Comparative
Philology, would render him highly qualified for the scientific
Teaching of the English Language.
F. C. HODGSON,
Fellow of King's College, Cambridge.
XIII.
I have enjoyed for some time the acquaintance of
Mr. J. Burnell Payne. No man who can say the same could fail
to perceive and to admire his varied and accurate knowledge,
his fine and critical relish of the higher literature. Few have
ever seemed to me so fit to hold, so certain to adorn, an office in
which this taste and this talent would find scope at once and use.
A. 0. SWINBURNE.
Author of Atalanta tn Ceylon ” and u ChartelardA
�29, Welbeck Street, W.,
May 10, 1866,
I have been acquainted with the Rev. J. B. Payne for
about eleven years, and, from numerous conversations during
that time, believe him to possess not only an unusually extensive
knowledge of English Literature, both prose and poetical, but
likewise an exceedingly vivid power of expressing his own views
upon the subject, and awakening a similar interest in his audience
to that which he himself feels.
THOS. WOOLNER,
Author of “ My Beautiful Ladyf
XV.
May 10, 1866.
Gentlemen,
Though my acquaintance with the Rev. Mr. Payne is
of recent date, and though I have never had an opportunity of
hearing him lecture, I have been frequently, in intercourse with
him, been much impressed by the evidence he has incidentally
given of his extensive knowledge and thoughtful appreciation of
English Literature, and of the amount of reading- that he has
accomplished, not in careless haste, but with profitable result.
From all that I know or have heard of him, I am much disposed
to believe that if he were entrusted with the Professorship to
which he aspires he would speedily earn a reputation for him
self, to the great gain of the Students and the honour of the
College.
I remain,
Yours respectfully,
W. B. HODGSON, L.L.D.,
Vice-President of the College of Preceptors,
Examiner in the University of London, fyc.
�13
XVI.
May 10, 1866.
The Rev. J. B. Payne has been a year and a half a
Master on the Modern side of Wellington College, and now has
the most important part in the administration and teaching of the
Modern Classes.
He is an excellent modern linguist, and is both widely read
and most deeply interested in Modern Literature, English and
Foreign. He is fond of teaching in itself as an art, and has
most successfully cultivated it. I know, indeed, very few men
whom I consider to be equally apt in catching a student’s diffi
culties, weighing them, and meeting them by clear and lucid
statement.
He has great promptness, and fluency of expression, and is
happy in illustration.
Both by knowledge, therefore, and by cultivation, Mr. Payne
appears to me to be excellently adapted for the public duties of
the post which he now seeks; and at the same time his influence
and example would, I am sure, be exceedingly stimulating to the
private studies of his class.
E. W. BENSON,
Master of Wellington College,
Late Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge.
XVII.
Wellington College,
May 11.
Gentlemen,
I have been associated here with Mr. Payne since he
has been at the College, and have had opportunity of observing
his knowledge of History, and his extensive acquaintance with
English Literature ; and if conversation be any criterion for public
lecturing, I can also bear witness to his great dexterity in
weaving his literary knowledge into what he says to those about
him. He has, besides, always had among us the reputation of
an excellent teacher.
I have the honour to be,
Yours obediently,
T. H. FISHER,
Mathematical Master
�14
XVIII.
May 10th, 1866.
The Rev. J. B. Payne, attended my lectures in the
Moral Sciences in St. John’s College, and appeared to me to
show not only great interest in the subject, but remarkable
freshness of thought and power of expression. I believe that
the Examiners for the Moral Sciences Tripos formed the same
estimate of Mr. Payne’s ability from the papers which he sent
up in that examination.
I have little doubt that he would prove an effective lecturer.
JOSEPH BICKERSTETII MAYOR M.A.,
Head Master of Kensington School; late Fellow and
Tutor of St. John's College, Cambridge.
XIX
Mon cher Monsieur Payne,
Si vous me demandez ce que je pense de votre connaissance
de la langue et de la litterature Fran^aise, je repondrai a cela,
toute consideration de camaraderie mise de cote, que je vous
crois aussi bien verse dans la litterature Franc;aise qu’aucun de
nous ; que de plus vous savez fort judicieusement en apprecier la
valeur, et qu’enfin vous possedez notre langue de maniere
a l’ecrire et a la parler presqu’aussi bien qu’un Francis, et
qu’un Fran^ais instruit.
Votre tout devout,
DE GUIGNAND.
Professor of French at Wellington College.
�LONDON:
PRINTED BY HARRISON AND SONS,
st. martin’s lane.
��
Dublin Core
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Title
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Victorian Blogging
Description
An account of the resource
A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
Creator
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
Date
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2018
Publisher
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Original Format
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Pamphlet
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Testimonials in favour of the Rev. John Burnell Payne, M.A., candidate for the professorship of English literature and history at Owen's College, Manchester
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Payne, John Burnell
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: London
Collation: 14 p. ; 21 cm.
Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway.
Publisher
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[s.n.]
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1864
Identifier
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G5682
Subject
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Education
Rights
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (Testimonials in favour of the Rev. John Burnell Payne, M.A., candidate for the professorship of English literature and history at Owen's College, Manchester), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
Format
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application/pdf
Type
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Text
Language
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English
Conway Tracts
Education