{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_27790/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_27790","id":"gutenberg_27790","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/27790","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Teaching & Education","Education"],"text":"Produced by Barbara Kosker, Nick Wall and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This\nfile was produced from images generously made available\nby The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n A\n\n PRACTICAL ENQUIRY\n\n INTO\n\n THE PHILOSOPHY\n\n OF\n\n EDUCATION.\n\n\n BY JAMES GALL,\n\n INVENTOR OF THE TRIANGULAR ALPHABET FOR THE BLIND; AND\n AUTHOR OF THE \"END AND ESSENCE OF SABBATH\n SCHOOL TEACHING,\" &c.\n\n \"_The Works of the Lord are great, sought out of all them that have\n pleasure therein._\"--PSAL. cxi. 2.\n\n\n\n\n EDINBURGH:\n JAMES GALL & SON,\n 24, NIDDRY STREET.\n LONDON: HOULSTON & STONEMAN, 65, PATERNOSTER-ROW.\n GLASGOW; GEORGE GALLIE. BELFAST: WILLIAM M'COMB.\n\n MDCCCXL\n\n\n\n\nPrinted by J. Gall & Son. 22, Niddry Street.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nThe Author of the following pages is a plain man, who has endeavoured to\nwrite a plain book, for the purpose of being popularly useful. The\nphilosophical form which his enquiries have assumed, is the result\nrather of accidental circumstances than of free choice. The strong\ndesire which he felt in his earlier years to benefit the Young, induced\nhim to push forward in the paths which appeared to him most likely to\nlead to his object; and it was not till he had advanced far into the\nfields of philosophy, that he first began dimly to perceive the\nimportance of the ground which he had unwittingly occupied. The truth\nis, that he had laboured many years in the Sabbath Schools with which he\nhad connected himself, before he was aware that, in his combat with\nignorance, he was wielding weapons that were comparatively new; and it\nwas still longer, before he very clearly understood the principles of\nthose Exercises which he found so successful. One investigation led to\nanother; light shone out as he proceeded; and he now submits, with full\nconfidence in the truth of his general principles and deductions, the\nresults of more than thirty years' experience and reflection in the\ngreat cause of Education.\n\nHe has only further to observe, that the term \"NATURE,\" which\noccurs so frequently, has been adopted as a convenient and popular mode\nof expression. None of his readers needs to be informed, that this is\nbut another manner of designating \"THE GOD OF NATURE,\" whose\nlaws, as established in the young mind, he has been endeavouring humbly,\nand perseveringly to imitate.\n\n _Myrtle Bank, Trinity, Edinburgh, 8th May, 1840._\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n PART I.\n\n ON THE PRELIMINARY OBJECTS NECESSARY FOR THE ESTABLISHMENT AND\n IMPROVEMENT OF EDUCATION.\n\n\n CHAP. I.                                                            Page\n\n On the Importance of establishing the Science of Education on a\n solid Foundation,                                                     13\n\n\n CHAP. II.\n\n On the Cultivation of Education as a Science,                         16\n\n\n CHAP. III.\n\n On the Improvement of Teaching as an Art,                             25\n\n\n CHAP. IV.\n\n On the Establishment of Sound Principles in Education,                32\n\n\n PART II.\n\n ON THE GREAT DESIGN OF NATURE'S TEACHING, AND THE METHODS SHE\n EMPLOYS IN CARRYING IT ON.\n\n\n CHAP. I.\n\n A Comprehensive View of the several Educational Processes\n carried on by Nature,                                                 37\n\n\n CHAP. II.\n\n On the Method employed by Nature for cultivating the Powers of\n the Mind,                                                             45\n\n\n CHAP. III.\n\n On the Means by which Nature enables her Pupils to acquire\n Knowledge,                                                            52\n\n\n CHAP. IV.\n\n On Nature's Method of communicating Knowledge to the Young by\n the Principle of Reiteration,                                         56\n\n\n CHAP. V.\n\n On the Acquisition of Knowledge by the Principle of\n Individuation,                                                        65\n\n\n CHAP. VI.\n\n On the Acquisition of Knowledge by the Principle of Association,\n or Grouping,                                                          72\n\n\n CHAP. VII.\n\n On the Acquisition of Knowledge by the Principle of Analysis,\n or Classification,                                                    83\n\n\n CHAP. VIII.\n\n On Nature's Methods of Teaching her Pupils to make use of their\n Knowledge,                                                            95\n\n\n CHAP. IX.\n\n On Nature's Methods of Applying Knowledge by the Principle of\n the Animal, or Common Sense,                                         101\n\n\n CHAP. X.\n\n On Nature's Method of applying Knowledge, by means of the\n Moral Sense, or Conscience,                                          111\n\n\n CHAP. XI.\n\n On Nature's Method of Training her Pupils to Communicate\n their Knowledge,                                                     129\n\n\n CHAP. XII.\n\n Recapitulation of the Philosophical Principles developed\n in the previous Chapters,                                            141\n\n\n PART III.\n\n ON THE METHODS BY WHICH THE EDUCATIONAL PROCESSES OF NATURE MAY BE\n SUCCESSFULLY IMITATED.\n\n\n CHAP. I.\n\n On the Exercises by which Nature may be imitated in cultivating\n the Powers of the Mind,                                              148\n\n\n CHAP. II.\n\n On the Methods by which Nature may be imitated in the Pupil's\n Acquisition of Knowledge; with a Review of the Analogy between\n the Mental and Physical Appetites of the Young,                      170\n\n\n CHAP. III.\n\n How Nature may be imitated in Communicating Knowledge to the\n Pupil, by the Reiteration of Ideas,                                  177\n\n\n CHAP. IV.\n\n On the Means by which Nature may be imitated in Exercising the\n Principle of Individuation,                                          192\n\n\n CHAP. V.\n\n On the Means by which Nature may be imitated in Applying the\n Principle of Grouping, or Association,                               204\n\n\n CHAP. VI.\n\n On the Methods by which Nature may be imitated in Communicating\n Knowledge by Classification, or Analysis,                            218\n\n\n CHAP. VII.\n\n On the Imitation of Nature in Teaching the Practical Use of\n Knowledge,                                                           233\n\n\n CHAP. VIII.\n\n On the Imitation of Nature in Teaching the Use of Knowledge\n by Means of the Animal, or Common Sense,                             245\n\n\n CHAP. IX.\n\n On the Imitation of Nature in Teaching the Practical Use of\n Knowledge by means of the Moral Sense, or Conscience,                257\n\n\n CHAP. X.\n\n On the Application of our Knowledge to the Common Affairs of\n Life,                                                                274\n\n\n CHAP. XI.\n\n On the Imitation of Nature, in training her Pupils fluently to\n communicate their Knowledge,                                         288\n\n\n PART IV.\n\n ON THE SELECTION OF PROPER TRUTHS AND SUBJECTS TO BE TAUGHT IN\n SCHOOLS AND FAMILIES.\n\n\n CHAP. I.\n\n On the General Principles which ought to regulate our choice\n of Truths and Subjects to be taught to the Young,                    306\n\n\n CHAP II.\n\n On the particular Branches of Education required for Elementary\n Schools,                                                             317\n\n\n CHAP. III.\n\n On the Easiest Methods of Introducing these Principles, for\n the first time, into Schools already established,                    326\n\n\n Notes,                                                               331\n\n\n\n\n PRACTICAL ENQUIRY, &c.\n\n\n\n\n PART I.\n\n ON THE PRELIMINARY OBJECTS NECESSARY FOR\n THE ESTABLISHMENT AND IMPROVEMENT\n OF EDUCATION.\n\n\n\n\n CHAP. I.\n\n _On the Importance of establishing the Science of\n Education on a solid Foundation._\n\n\nEducation is at present obviously in a transition state. The public mind\nhas of late become alive to the importance of the subject; and all\npersons are beginning to feel awake to the truth, that something is yet\nwanting to insure efficiency and permanence to the labours of the\nteacher. The public will not be satisfied till some decided change has\ntaken place; and many are endeavouring to grope their way to something\nbetter. It is with an earnest desire to help forward this great\nmovement, that the writer of the following pages has been induced to\npublish the result of much study, and upwards of thirty years'\nexperience, in the hope that it may afford at least some assistance in\ndirecting the enquiries of those who are prosecuting the same object.\n\nOn entering upon this investigation, it will be of use to keep in mind,\nthat all the sciences have, at particular periods of their history, been\nin the same uncertain and unsettled position, as that which Education at\npresent occupies; and that each of them has in its turn, had to pass\nthrough an ordeal, similar to that which education is about to undergo.\nThey have triumphantly succeeded; and their subsequent rapid\nadvancement is the best proof that they are now placed on a solid and\npermanent foundation. It is of importance, therefore, in attempting to\nforward the science of education, that we should profit by the\nexperience of those who have gone before us. They succeeded by a strict\nobservation of facts, and a stern rejection of every species of mere\nsupposition and opinion;--by an uncompromising hostility to prejudice\nand selfishness, and a fearless admission of truth wherever it was\ndiscovered. Such must be the conduct of the Educationist, if he expects\nto succeed in an equal degree. The history of astronomy as taught by\nastrologers, and of chemistry in the hands of the alchymist, should\nteach both the lovers and the fearers of change an important lesson.\nThese pretended sciences being mere conjectures, were of use to nobody;\nand yet the boldness with which they were promulgated, and the\nconfidence with which they were received, had the effect of suppressing\nenquiry, and shutting out the truth for several generations. Similar may\nbe the effects of errors in education, and similar the danger of too\neasily admitting them. The adoption of plausible theories, or of\nerroneous principles, must lead into innumerable difficulties; and\nshould they be hastily patronized, and authoritatively promulgated, the\nimprovement of this first and most important of the sciences may be\nretarded for a century to come.\n\nThe other sciences, during the last half century, have advanced with\namazing rapidity. This has been the result of a strict adherence to well\nestablished facts, and their legitimate inferences.--A docile subjection\nof the mind to the results of experiment, and a candid confession and\nabandonment of fallacies, have characterized every benefactor of the\nsciences;--and the science of education must be advanced by an adherence\nto the same principles. The Educationist must be willing to abandon\nerror, as well as to receive truth; and must resolutely shake off all\nconjecture and opinions not founded on fair and appropriate experiment.\nThis course may appear tedious;--but it is the shortest and the best. By\nthis mode of induction, all the facts which he is able to glean will\nassuredly be found to harmonize with nature, with reason, and with\nScripture; and with these for his supporters, the Reformer in education\nhas nothing to fear. His progress may be slow, but it will be sure; for\nevery principle which he thus discovers, will enable him, not only to\noutrun his neighbours, but to confer a permanent and valuable boon upon\nposterity.\n\nThat any rational and accountable being should ever have been found to\noppose the progress of truth, is truly humiliating; yet every page of\nhistory, which records the developement of new principles, exhibits also\nthe outbreakings of prejudice and selfishness. The deductions of\nGalileo, of Newton, of Harvey, and innumerable others, have been opposed\nand denounced, each in its turn; while their promoters have been\nvilified as empyrics or innovators. Nor has this been done by those only\nwhose self love or worldly interests prompted them to exclude the truth,\nbut by good and honourable men, whose prejudices were strong, and whose\nzeal was not guided by discretion. Such persons have frequently been\nfound to shut their eyes against the plainest truths, to wrestle with\ntheir own convictions, and positively refuse even to listen to evidence.\nThe same thing may happen with regard to education;--and this is no\npleasing prospect to the lover of peace, who sets himself forward as a\nreformer in this noble work.--Change is inevitable. Teaching is an art;\nand it must, like all the other arts, depend for its improvement upon\nthe investigations of science. Now, every one knows, that although the\ncultivation of chemistry, and other branches of natural science, has, of\nlate years, given an extraordinary stimulus to the arts, yet the science\nof education, from which the art of teaching can alone derive its\npower, is one, beyond the threshold of which modern philosophy has\nscarcely entered. Changes, therefore, both in the theory and practice of\nteaching, may be anticipated;--and that these changes will be\ninconvenient and annoying to many, there can be no doubt. That\nindividuals, in these circumstances, should be inclined to deprecate and\noppose these innovations and improvements, is nothing more than might be\nexpected; but that the improvements themselves should on that account be\neither postponed or abandoned, would be highly injurious. An enlightened\nsystem of education is peculiarly the property of the public, on which\nboth personal, family, and national happiness in a great measure\ndepends. These interests therefore must not be sacrificed to the wishes\nor the convenience of private individuals. The prosperity and happiness\nof mankind are at stake; and the welfare of succeeding generations will,\nin no small degree, be influenced by the establishment of sound\nprinciples in education at the present time. Nothing, therefore, should\nbe allowed to mystify or cripple that science, upon which the spread and\nthe permanence of all useful knowledge mainly rest.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. II.\n\n_On the Cultivation of Education as a Science._\n\n\nFrom numerous considerations, it must be evident, that education claims\nthe first rank among the sciences; and, in that case, the art of\nTeaching ought to take precedence among the arts;--not perhaps in\nrespect of its difficulties, but most certainly in respect of its\nimportance.\n\nThe success of the teacher in his labours, will depend almost entirely\non the extent and the accuracy of the investigations of the philosopher.\nThe science must guide the art. Experience shews, that where an artist\nin ordinary life is not directed by science,--by acknowledged\nprinciples,--he can never make any steady improvement. In like manner,\nwhen the principles of education are unknown, no advancement in the art\ncan be expected from the teacher. Every attempt at change in such\ncircumstances must be unsatisfactory; and even when improvements are by\nchance accomplished, they are but partial, and must be stationary.--When,\non the contrary, the teacher is directed by ascertained principles, he\nnever can deviate far from the path of success; and even if he should,\nhe has the means in his own power of ascertaining the cause of his\nfailure, and of retracing his steps. He can, therefore, at his pleasure,\nadd to or abridge, vary or transpose his exercises with his pupils,\nprovided only that the great principles of the science be kept steadily\nin view, and be neither outraged, nor greatly infringed. No teacher,\ntherefore, should profess the art, without making himself familiar with\nthe philosophical principles upon which it is founded. In the mechanical\narts, this practice is now generally followed, and with the happiest\neffects. The men of the present generation have profited by the painful\nexperience of thousands in former times; who, trusting to mere\nconjectures, tried, failed, and ruined themselves. The mechanics of our\nday, instead of indulging in blind theories of their own, and hazarding\ntheir money and their time upon speculation and chance, are willing to\nborrow light for their guidance from those who have provided it. They\nslowly, but surely, follow in the path opened up to them by the\ndiscoveries of science,--and they are never disappointed.\n\nThe unexampled success of the mechanical arts, would, upon the above\nprinciples, naturally lead us to conclude, that the sciences, from which\nthey have derived all that they possess, must have been cultivated with\ncorresponding energy. And such is the fact. Since the adoption of the\ninductive method of philosophizing, nearly all the sciences have been\nadvancing rapidly and steadily; and the cause of this is to be found in\nadhering to the rules of induction. No science has been allowed to rest\nits claims upon mere theory, or authority of any kind, but upon evidence\nderived from facts. Mere opinions and suppositions have been rigidly\nexcluded; and that alone which was acquired by accurate investigation,\nhas been acknowledged in science as having the stamp of truth. The\ninductive philosophy takes nothing for granted. Every conclusion must be\nlegitimately drawn from ascertained facts, or from principles\nestablished by experiment; and the consequence has been, not only that\nwhat has been attained is permanent, and will benefit all future\ngenerations, but the amount of that attainment, in the short time that\nhas already elapsed, is actually greater than all that had been\npreviously gained during centuries. In this general improvement,\nhowever, the science of Education has till lately formed an exception.\nThe principles of true philosophy do not appear to have been brought to\nbear upon it, as they have upon the other sciences; and the consequences\nof this neglect have been lamentable. In every branch of natural\nphilosophy, there are great leading principles already established. But\nwhere were there any such principles established by the philosopher for\nthe guidance of the teacher? By what, except their own experience, and\nconjectures, were teachers directed in the training of the\nyoung?--Thirty or forty years ago, what was called \"education\" in our\nordinary week-day schools, was little more than a mechanical round of\nbarren exercises. The excitement of religious persecution, which had\nbeen the means of disciplining the intellectual and moral powers of\nScotsmen for several previous generations, had by that time gradually\nsubsided, and had left education to do its own work, by the use of its\nown resources. But these were perfectly inadequate to the task. The\nexercises almost universally employed in the education of the young,\nhad neither been derived from science, nor from experience of their own\ninherent power; and they would, from the beginning, have been found\nperfectly inefficient, had they not been aided, as before noticed, by\nthe stimulant of religious persecution.--The state of education, at the\ntime we speak of, is still fresh on the memory of living witnesses who\nwere its victims; and some of the absurdities which were then universal,\nare not even yet altogether extinct.\n\nSoon after the period above stated, an important change began to take\nplace in the art of teaching,--but still unaided and undirected by\nscience. Some of the more thinking and judicious of its professors,\nroused by the flagrant failures of their own practice, made several\nnoble and exemplary efforts to place it on a better footing. Had these\nefforts been guided by scientific research, much more good would have\nbeen done than has been accomplished, and an immense amount of\nmisdirected labour would have been saved. But although many of the\nattempts at a change failed, yet some of them succeeded, and have\ngradually produced ameliorations and improvements in the art of\nteaching. Still it must be observed, that philosophy has had little or\nno share in the merit. Her labours in this important field have yet to\nbe begun. Valuable exercises have no doubt been introduced; but the\nprinciples upon which the success of these exercises depends, remain in\na great measure concealed from the public generally:--And the reason of\nthis is, that the public have been indebted for them to the _art_ of the\nteacher, and not to the _science_ of the philosopher.\n\nThat this is not the position in which matters of so much public\nimportance should continue, we think no one will deny. Education must be\ncultivated as a science, before teaching can ever flourish as an art.\nThe philosopher must first ascertain and light up the way, before the\nteacher can, with security, walk in it. Experiment must be employed to\nascertain facts, investigate causes, and trace these causes to their\neffects. By fair and legitimate deductions drawn from the facts thus\nascertained, he will be enabled to establish certain principles, which,\nwhen acted upon by the teacher, will invariably succeed. But without\nthis, the history of all the other arts and sciences teaches us, that\nsuccess is not to be expected;--for although chance may sometimes lead\nthe teacher to a happy device, there can be no steady progress. Even\nthose beneficial exercises upon which he may have stumbled, become of\nlittle practical value; because, when the principles upon which they are\nbased are unknown, they can neither be followed up with certainty, nor\nbe varied without danger.\n\nThere will no doubt be a difficulty in the investigation of a science\nwhich is in itself so complicated, and which has hitherto been so little\nunderstood; but this is only an additional reason why it should be begun\nin a proper manner, and pursued with energy. The mode of procedure is\nthe chief object of difficulty; but the experience and success of\ninvestigators in the other sciences, will be of great advantage in\ndirecting us in this. In the sciences of anatomy and physiology, for\nexample, the investigations of the philosopher are designed to direct\nthe several operations of the physician, the surgeon, and the dentist;\nin the same way as the investigations of the Educationist are intended\nto direct the operations of the Teacher. Now the mode of procedure in\nthose sciences for such purposes is well known, and forms an excellent\nexample for us in the present case. The duty of the anatomist, or\nphysiologist, is simply to examine the operations of Nature in the\nanimal economy, and the plans which she adopts for accomplishing her\nobjects during health, and for throwing off impediments during disease.\nIn conducting his investigations, the enquirer begins by taking a\ngeneral view of the whole subject, and then separating and defining its\nleading parts. Pulsation, respiration, digestion, and the various\nsecretions and excretions of the body, are defined, and their general\nconnection with each other correctly ascertained. These form his\nstarting points; and then, taking each in its turn, he sets himself to\ndiscover the principles, or laws, which regulate its working in a\nhealthy state;--what it is that promotes the circulation or stagnation\nof the blood, the bracing or relaxing of the nerves, the several\nprocesses in digestion, and the various functions of the skin and\nviscera. These are all first ascertained by observation and experience,\nand then, if necessary, established by experiment.\n\nThese principles, having thus been established by science, are available\nfor direction in the arts. The physician acts under their guidance; and\nhis object is simply to regulate his treatment and advice in accordance\nwith them. In other words, _he endeavours to imitate Nature_, to remove\nthe obstructions which he finds interfering with her operations, or to\nlend that aid which a knowledge of these principles points out as\nnecessary. The surgeon and the dentist follow the same course, but more\ndirectly. In healing a wound, for example, the surgeon has to ascertain\nfrom science how Nature in similar cases proceeds when left to herself;\nand all his cuttings, and lancings, and dressings, are nothing more than\n_attempts to imitate her_ in her healing operations. So well is this now\nunderstood, that every operation which does not at least recognise the\nprinciple is denounced--and justly denounced--as quackery; and the\nreason is, that uniform experience has convinced professional men, that\nthey can only expect success when they follow with docility in the path\nwhich Nature has pointed out to them.\n\nPrecisely similar should be the plan of operation pursued by the\nEducationist. He should, in the first place, take a comprehensive view\nof the whole subject, and endeavour to map out to himself its great\nnatural divisions;--in other words, he should endeavour to ascertain\nwhat are the things which Nature teaches, that he may, by means of this\ngreat outline, form a general programme for the direction of the\nteacher. His next object ought to be, to ascertain the mode, and the\nmeans, adopted by Nature in forwarding these several departments of her\neducational process; the powers of mind engrossed in each; the order in\nwhich they are brought into exercise; and the combinations which she\nemploys in perfecting them. In ascertaining these principles which\nregulate the operations of Nature in her educational processes, the same\nadherence to the rules prescribed by the inductive philosophy, which has\ncrowned the other sciences with success, must be rigidly observed. There\nmust be the same disregard of mere antiquity; there must be the same\nscrupulous sifting of evidence, and strict adherence to facts; there\nmust be a discarding of all hypotheses, and a simple dependence upon\nascertained truths alone. Adherence to these rules is as necessary in\ncultivating the science of education, as it has been in the other\nsciences; and the neglect of any one of them, may introduce an element\nof error, which may injure the labours of a whole lifetime.\n\nWe have some reason to fear, that although all this will be readily\nadmitted in theory, it will be found somewhat difficult to adopt it in\npractice. The reason of this will be obvious when we reflect on the deep\ninterest which the best and most philanthropic individuals in society\ntake in this science. The other sciences are in some measure removed\nfrom the busy pursuits of life; they are the concern of certain persons,\nwho are allowed to investigate and to experiment, to judge and to decide\nas they please, without the public in general caring much about the\nmatter.--But education is a science of a different kind. Its value is\nacknowledged by every one, and its interests are dear to every\nbenevolent heart. The individual who undertakes to examine, and more\nespecially to promulgate, any new principle upon which education rests,\nwill have a harder task to perform, and a severer battle to fight, than\nthe philosopher who attempts to overturn a false conclusion in\nchemistry, or an erroneous principle in mechanics. Among the learned\ncommunity, not more than one in a thousand perhaps is personally\ninterested either in mechanics or in chemistry; and few others will\nenter the lists to oppose that which appears legitimate and fair. The\nenemies and opponents of the chemical reformer in that case may be\nzealous and even fierce; but they are few, and he enjoys the sympathy\nand the countenance of the great majority of those whose countenance is\nworthy of his regard. But when we calculate the number of those who take\nan interest in the subject of education, and those who do not, the above\nnumbers will be reversed. Nine hundred and ninety-nine among the\neducated public will be found who take a real interest in the progress\nof education, for one who cares nothing about it.\n\nThis is a fearful odds where there is a likelihood of opposition;--and\nopposition may be expected. For there will be influences in many of the\ntrue friends of education, derived from old prejudices within, combined\nwith the pressure of conflicting sentiments in their friends from\nwithout, which will render the task of establishing new and sound\nprinciples in this first of the sciences an irksome, and even a\nhazardous employment. Coldness or opposition from those whom we honour\nand love is always painful; and yet it should be endured, rather than\nthat the best interests both of the present and future generations\nshould be sacrificed. The opinions of all good men deserve\nconsideration;--but when they are merely opinions, and are not founded\non reason, they are at best but specious; and when they are opposed to\ntruth, and are contrary to experience, a zealous adherence to them\nbecomes sinful and dangerous. Such persons ought to commend, rather than\nblame, the reformer in education, when he declines to adopt ancient\ndogmas which he finds to be useless and hurtful: And at all events, if\nall have agreed to disregard the authority of an Aristotle or a Newton,\nwhen opposed to new facts and additional evidence, the Educationist must\nnot allow himself to be driven from the path of fact and experience by\neither friends or enemies. No authority can make darkness light;--and\nalthough he may be opposed for a time, and the public mind may be abused\nfor a moment, it will at last correct itself, and truth will prevail.\n\nBut the friends of education ought in no case to put the perseverance of\nthose who labour for its improvement to so severe a trial. They ought in\njustice, as well as charity, to cultivate a forbearing and a candid\nspirit; and they will have many opportunities of exercising these\nvirtues during the progress of this science. Education is confessedly\nbut in its infancy; and therefore it must grow much, and change much,\nbefore it can arrive at maturity. But if there be an increasing\nopposition to all advance, and if a stumbling-block be continually\nthrown in the way of those who labour to perfect it, the labourers may\nbe discouraged, and the work be indefinitely postponed. Let all such\nthen guard against a blind opposition, or an attempt to explain away\npalpable facts, merely because they lead to principles which are new, or\nto conclusions which are at variance with their pre-conceived opinions.\nIf they persevere in a blind opposition, they may find at last that they\nhave been resisting truth, and defrauding their neighbour. Truth can\nnever be the enemy of man, although many inadvertently rank themselves\namong its opponents. The resistance which has invariably been offered to\nevery important discovery hitherto, should be a beacon to warn the\ninconsiderate and the prejudiced against being over-hasty in rejecting\ndiscoveries in education; and the obloquy that now rests on the memory\nof such persons, should be a warning to them, not to plant thorns in\ntheir own pillows, or now to sow \"the wind, lest they at last should\nreap the whirlwind.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. III.\n\n_On the Improvement of Teaching as an Art._\n\n\nAs Education on account of its importance takes precedence in the\nsciences, so Teaching should rank first among the arts. The reasons for\nthis arrangement are numerous; but the consideration of two will be\nsufficient.--The first is, that all the other arts refer chiefly to\ntime, and the conveniences and comforts of this world; while the art of\nteaching not only includes all these, but involves also many of the\ninterests of man through eternity.--And the second is, that without this\nart all the other arts would produce scarcely any advantage. Without\neducation of some kind, men are, and must continue to be savages,--it\nbeing the only effectual instrument of civilization. It is the chief, if\nnot the only means for improving the condition of the human family, and\nfor restoring man to the dignity of an intelligent and virtuous being.\n\nAs \"Science\" is the investigation and knowledge of principles, so an\n\"art\" may be defined as a system of means, in accordance with these\nprinciples, for attaining some special end. Teaching is one of the arts;\nand it depends as entirely for its success upon a right application of\nthe principles of the science of education, as the art of dying does\nupon the principles of chemistry. As an art, therefore, teaching must be\nsubjected to all those laws which regulate the improvement of the other\narts, and without which it can never be successfully carried on, far\nless perfected. These laws are now very generally understood; and we\nshall briefly advert to a few of them, which are necessary for our\npresent purpose, and endeavour to point out their relation to the art of\nteaching.\n\n1. One of the first rules connected with the improvement of the arts is,\nthat the artist have _a specific object in view, for the attainment of\nwhich all his successive operations are to be combined_.--The\nmanufacturer has his _cloth_ in prospect, before he has even purchased\nthe wool of which it is to be composed; and it is the desire of\nprocuring cloth of the most suitable quality, and by the easiest means,\nthat compels him to draw liberally and constantly from the facts\nascertained, and the principles developed, by the several sciences. From\nthe science of mechanics he derives the various kinds of machinery used\nin the progressive stages of its production; and from the science of\nchemistry he obtains the processes of dying, and printing, and dressing.\nBut he never troubles himself about the science of mechanics or of\nchemistry in the abstract; he thinks only of his cloth, and of these\nsciences as means to assist him in procuring it. He is careful of his\nmachinery, and is constantly alive to the mode of its working, and is\nthus prompted to adopt such improvements as observation or experience\nmay suggest; but it is not the machinery of itself that he either cares\nfor, or thinks about. No; it is still the cloth that he keeps in view;\nand his machinery is esteemed or slighted, adopted or abandoned, exactly\nin proportion as it forwards his object. The processes necessary in the\ndifferent departments of his establishment, are complicated and various,\nand to a stranger they are both curious and instructive; but it is\nneither the labour nor the variety that he is seeking. His is a very\ndifferent object; and of this object he never loses sight; for the\nvaried operations of stapling and carding, of spinning and weaving, are\nnothing more than means which he employs for accomplishing his end. He\nknows the uses of the whole complicated operations; and he sees at a\nglance, and can tell in a moment, how each in its turn contributes to\nthe great object of all,--the production of a good and marketable cloth.\n\nNow this law ought to be applied with the utmost strictness to the art\nof teaching. For if teaching be really an art,--that is, a successive\ncombination of means,--it should undoubtedly be a combination of means\nto some specific end. Nothing can be more obvious, than that a man who\nsits down to work, should know what he intends to do, and how he is to\ndo it. Such a line of conduct should be imperatively demanded of the\nteacher, both on account of the importance of his work, and of the\nimmense value of the material upon which he is to operate. The end he\nhas in view, whatever that end may be, ought to be correctly defined\nbefore he begins; and no exercise should upon any account be prescribed\nor demanded from his pupils, which does not directly, or indirectly at\nleast, conduce to its attainment. To do otherwise is both injudicious\nand unjust. For if the operations of the husbandman during spring have\nto be selected and curtailed with the strictest attention to time and\nthe seasons, how carefully ought the energies and the time of youth to\nbe economized, when they have but one short spring time afforded them,\nduring which they are to sow the seed which shall produce good or evil\nfruit for eternity? As to what this great end which the teacher ought\nsteadily to contemplate should be, we shall afterwards enquire; at\npresent we are desirous only of establishing this general law in the art\nof teaching, that there should be an end accurately defined, and\nconstantly kept in view; and for the attainment of which every exercise\nprescribed in the school should assist. The teacher who does otherwise\nis travelling in the dark, and compelling labour for labour's\nsake;--like the manufacturer who would keep all his machinery in motion,\nnot to make cloth, but to appear to be busy.\n\n2. Another law adopted in the successful prosecution of the arts is, _to\nuse the best known means for attaining any particular end_.--This law\nis well known in all the other arts, and success invariably depends upon\nits adoption. The fields are not now tilled by the hoe, nor is cotton\nspun by the hand. These modes of operating have no doubt the\nrecommendation of antiquity; but here antiquity is always at a discount,\nand no one doubts the propriety of its being so. The arts are advancing;\nand they who would impede their progress on the plea of not departing\nfrom the usages of antiquity, would be pitied or laughed at.\n\nThe art of teaching, like the other arts, depends for its success on a\nstrict adherence to this law; and the fear of departing in this case\nfrom the particular usages of our ancestors is equally unreasonable.\nSoft ground in the valleys compelled them to travel their pack horses\nright over the hills, and the want of the \"Jenny\" made them spin their\nyarn by the hand; but still, the same principle which guided them in the\nadoption of those methods, was strictly the one which we are here\nrecommending, that of \"using the best _known_ means for accomplishing\nthe particular end.\" Those who adopt the principle do most honour to\ntheir sagacity; while their shallow admirers, by abandoning the\nprinciple, and clinging to their necessarily imperfect mode of applying\nit, at once libel their good sense, and dishonour those whom they\nprofess to revere. As society is rapidly advancing, paternal affection\nwould undoubtedly have prompted them to advise their descendants to take\nthe benefits of every advance;--and it would be as reasonable for us to\nsuppose, that if they were now alive, they would advise us to travel\nover the hills on their old roads, or make our cloth in the old way, as\nto think they would be gratified by our continuing to use exercises in\neducation, which sound philosophy and experience have shewn to be\nfallacious and hurtful, or that they would be displeased by the use of\nthose which extensive experiment has now proved to be natural, easy, and\nefficient.\n\nThese ancestral trammels have all been shaken off, wherever the\nacquisition of money is concerned. The mechanical processes of his\nforefathers have no charm for the modern manufacturer, when he can\nattain his object more economically by a recent improvement. Neither\ndoes he go blindfold upon a mere chance,--seldom even upon a sagacious\nconjecture,--unless there be some good grounds for its formation. In\nevery successive stage of his operations, he is awake to the slightest\nappearance of defect; and he hesitates not a moment in abandoning a\nlesser good for a greater, whenever he perceives it. He husbands\ntime;--he husbands expense;--he husbands supervision and risk. Every\nstep with him is a step in advance;--every operation has a\ndesign;--every movement has a meaning;--and he makes all unite for the\nattainment of one common object. Can we doubt that, in like manner, the\nmost rigid economy of time and labour ought to be adopted in the art of\nteaching? When the end has once been distinctly defined, it ought\nsteadily to be kept in view; and no exercise should be prescribed which\ndoes not contribute to its attainment. There should be no bustling about\nnothing; no busy idleness; no fighting against time; no unnecessary\nlabour, nor useless exhaustion of the pupil's energies. The time of\nyouth is so precious, and there is so much to be done during it, that\neconomy here is perhaps of more importance than in any thing else. Every\nbook or exercise, therefore, which has not a palpable tendency to\nforward the great object designed by education, should by the teacher be\nat once given up.\n\n3. Another law which experience has established as necessary for the\nperfecting of any of the arts is, _a fair and honest application of the\nsuccessive discoveries of science to its improvement_.--This has been\nthe uniform practice in those arts which have of late been making such\nrapid progress. The artist and mechanic are never indifferent to the\nvarious improvements which are taking place around them; nor do they\never stand apart, till they are forced upon their notice by third\nparties, or public notoriety. There is, in the case of the manufacturer,\nno nervous timidity about innovation; nor does he ever attempt to\ndeceive himself by ignorantly supposing that the change can be no\nimprovement.--Nor will he suffer himself to be deceived by others. His\nworkmen are not allowed, to save themselves future trouble, to be\ncareless or sinister in their trials of the improvement; for he knows,\nthat however it may be with them, yet if his neighbour succeeds, and he\nfails, it may prove his ruin.\n\nSuch also should be the conduct of the teacher. The time has now gone by\nwhen parents were ignorant, either of what was communicated at school,\nor the manner in which it was taught. The improvement of their children\nby education, has become a primary object with all sensible parents; and\nthey will never again be satisfied with a school or a teacher, where\nsolid instruction, and the most useful kind of knowledge are not\nimparted. Ameliorations in his art, therefore, is now as necessary to\nthe teacher, as improvements in machinery are to the mechanic and the\nmanufacturer. It will no longer do for him to say, \"I can see no\nimprovement in the change,\" if the parents of his pupils have been able\nto discover it; and the teacher who stands still in the present forward\nmarch of society, will soon find himself left alone. The practical\nEducationist, like the mechanician, ought no doubt to be cautious in\nadopting changes upon chance; but wherever an improvement in his art has\nbeen sufficiently proved by fair experiment or long experience, and\nparticularly, when the principle upon which its success depends has been\nfully ascertained, his rejecting the change on the plea of\ninconvenience, or from the fear of trouble, is not only an act of\ninjustice to the parents of his pupils, but is a wrong which will very\nsoon begin to re-act upon his own interests. The effect of indifference\nto improvement in this, as in other arts, may not be felt for a time;\nbut as soon as _others_ have made themselves masters of the improvements\nwhich he has rejected, the successive departure of his pupils, and the\nmelting away of his classes, will at last awaken him to a sense of his\nfolly, when it may be too late. Such has usually been the effect of\nremissness in the other arts; and the present state of the public mind\nin regard to education, indicates a similar result in similar\ncircumstances.\n\nIn connection with this part of our subject, it may here be necessary to\nremark, that as the experience of all teachers may not be alike in the\n_first working_ of a newly applied principle,--the principle itself,\nwhen fully ascertained, is not on that account to be either belied or\nabandoned. There are many concurring circumstances, which may make an\nexercise that succeeds well in the hands of one person, fail in the\nhands of another; but to refuse credence to the principle itself,\nbecause he cannot as yet successfully apply it, is neither prudent nor\nwise. There are chemical experiments so exceedingly nice, and depending\non so many varying circumstances, that they frequently fail in the hands\nof even good operators. But the chemical principles upon which they rest\nremain unchanged, although individual students may have not been able\nsuccessfully to apply them. If their professor has but _once_ fairly and\nundoubtedly succeeded in ascertaining the facts on which the principle\nis based, their failure for a thousand times is no proof that the\nascertained principle is really a fallacy. In like manner, any important\nprinciple in education, if once satisfactorily ascertained, is a truth\nin the science, and will remain a truth, whoever may believe or deny it.\nIf it has been proved to produce certain effects in certain given\ncircumstances, it will in all future times do the same, when the\ncircumstances are similar. The inability, therefore, of a parent or\nteacher, to produce equal effects by its means, may be good enough\nproof of his want of skill, but it is no proof of the want of inherent\npower in the principle itself. The rings of Saturn which my neighbour's\ntelescope has clearly brought to view, are not blotted from the heavens\nbecause my pocket glass has failed to detect them.\n\nIt has been by attention to these, and similar rules, that all the\nsecular arts have advanced to their present state; and the art of\nteaching must be perfected by similar means. There ought therefore to be\na distinct object in view on the part of the teacher,--a specific end\nwhich he is to endeavour to arrive at in his intercourse with his pupil.\nFor the attainment of this end, he must employ the best and the surest\nmeans that are in his power; for the same purpose, he ought honestly and\nfairly to apply the successive discoveries of science as they occur; and\nshould never allow himself to abandon an exercise founded upon\nascertained principles, merely because he at first finds difficulty in\nputting it in operation.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. IV.\n\n_On the Establishment of Sound Principles in Education._\n\n\nThe application of the foregoing remarks to our present purpose, is a\nmatter of great practical importance. It has indeed been owing chiefly\nto their having been hitherto overlooked, that education has been left\nin the backward state in which we at present find it.\n\nBut if, as we have seen, education must bend to the same rigid\ndiscipline to which the other sciences have had to submit,--and if\nteaching can be improved only by following the laws which have\ndetermined the success of the other arts--the question naturally\narises, \"What is to be done now for education?\"--\"Where are we to\nbegin?\"--\"How are we to proceed?\"--\"In what manner are the principles of\nthe science to be investigated, so that they shall most extensively\npromote the success of the art? and how is the art to be cultivated, so\nthat it may, to the fullest extent, be benefited by the science?\" To\nthese enquiries we shall in the present chapter direct our attention.\n\nThe method of investigating the operations of Nature in the several\nsciences is very nearly alike in all. For example, in the science of\nchemistry, as we have formerly noticed, the first object of the\nphilosopher would be to take a comprehensive view of his whole subject,\nand endeavour to separate the substances in Nature according to their\ngreat leading characteristics. He would at once distinguish mineral\nsubstances as differing from vegetables;--and vegetable substances as\ndiffering from animals;--thus forming three distinct classes of objects,\nblending with each other, no doubt, but still sufficiently distinct to\nform what have been called the three kingdoms of Nature. The various\nobjects included under each of these he would again subdivide according\nto their several properties;--and as he went forward, he would\nendeavour, by careful examination and experiment, to ascertain, not only\ntheir combinations, but also the characteristic properties of their\nseveral elements. The chemist, in this method of investigating Nature,\nalmost always proceeds upwards, analytically, advancing from the general\nto the special, from the aggregate to its parts, endeavouring to\nascertain as he proceeds the laws which regulate their composition and\ndecomposition, for the purpose simply of endeavouring to imitate them.\nBy this means alone he expects to perfect the science, and to benefit\nthe arts.\n\nIn the science of Botany, Zoology, Anatomy, Physiology, and almost all\nthe others, the same plan has been adopted with invariable success. The\nsubject, whatever it be, is looked upon as a whole, and then separated\ninto its great divisions;--these again, are subdivided into classes; and\nthese again, into orders, genera, species, and varieties, by which means\neach minute part can be examined by itself in connection with the whole;\nthe memory and the judgment are assisted in their references and\napplication; and order reigns through the whole subject, which otherwise\nwould have been involved in inextricable confusion.\n\nIn education, as in the other sciences, Nature is our only sure teacher;\nand the Educationist, therefore, who desires success, must proceed in\nthe investigation in a similar way. He must first take a comprehensive\nview of Nature's educational processes; divide them into their several\nkinds; and subdivide these again when necessary, that each may be viewed\nalone. He must then ascertain the nature and the object of these\nprocesses, and observe the means and the methods employed for\naccomplishing them, that he may, if possible, be enabled to _imitate_\nthem. In this way, and in this way alone, he is to perfect the science\nof education, and benefit the art of teaching.\n\nThat this is the best way yet known of proceeding in investigating and\nimproving the science of education, experience has already proved; and\nthat it must theoretically be so, we think can admit of little doubt.\nThe operations of Nature exhibit the soundest philosophy, and the most\nperfect examples of art. The materials she selects are the most suitable\nfor the purpose; the means she employs are always the most simple and\nefficient; and her ends are invariably gained at the least expense of\nmaterial, labour, and time. In the pursuit, therefore, of any object or\nend similar to that in which we find Nature engaged, man's truest wisdom\nis to distrust his own speculations, and to learn from her teaching. He\nshould, with a child-like docility, follow her leadings and imitate her\noperations, both as it respects the materials he is to employ, and the\nmode and order in which he is to use them. Were an artist to find\nhimself at a loss for the want of an instrument to accomplish some\nparticular purpose, or some new material upon which to operate, or some\nspecial, but as yet unknown means for attaining some new and important\nobject,--we are warranted by facts to say, that the natural philosopher\nwould be his best instructor. For if he can be directed to some similar\noperation of Nature, or have pointed out to him some one or more of\nNature's pupils,--some animal or insect, perhaps,--whose labour or\nobject is similar to his own, he will most probably find there, or have\nsuggested to him by their mode of procedure, the very thing he is in\nsearch of. By studying their methods of operating, and the means\nemployed by them for accomplishing their end, some principle or device\nwill be exhibited, by the imitation of which his own special object will\nmost readily and most successfully be attained. Every day's experience\ngives us additional proof of the importance and soundness of this\nsuggestion. For it is a remarkable fact, that there is scarcely a useful\nmechanical invention to which genius has laid claim,--and deservedly\nlaid claim,--that has not its prototype somewhere in nature. The same\nprinciples, working perhaps in the same manner, have been silently in\noperation, thousands of years before the inventor was born; but which,\nfrom want of observation, or the neglect of its practical application to\nuseful purposes, lay concealed and useless. This culpable neglect in\npractically applying the works and ways of God as he intended, has\ncarried with it its own punishment; for thousands of the conveniences\nand arts, which at present smooth and adorn the paths of civilized life,\nhave all along been placed within the reach of intelligent man. If he\nhad but employed his intelligence, as he ought to have done, in\nsearching them out, and had asked himself when he perceived them, \"What\ndoes this teach me?\" the very question would have suggested a use. This\naccordingly will be found to be the true way of studying nature, and one\nespecial design for which a beneficent Creator has spread out his works\nfor our inspection. In proof, and in illustration of this fact, we may\nrefer to the telescope, which has from the beginning had its type in the\nhuman eye;--to the formation of paper, which has been manufactured for\nthousands of years by the wasp;--to the levers, joints, and pulleys of\nthe human body, of which the mechanist has as yet only made imperfect\nimitations;--and to the saw of an insignificant insect, (the saw-fly)\nwhich has never yet been successfully imitated by man.\n\nIn prosecuting our investigations into the science of education,\ntherefore, our business is to study Nature in all the educational\nprocesses in which we find her occupied, and of which we shall find\nthere are many;--to observe and collect facts;--to detect principles,\nand to discover the means employed in carrying them out, and the modes\nof their working;--to trace effects back to their causes, and then again\nto follow the effects through their various ramifications, to some\nultimate end. These are the things which it is the business of the\nEducationist to investigate, and to record for the benefit of the\nteacher and his art.\n\nThe duty of the teacher, on the other hand, is to apply to his own\npurposes, and to turn to use in the prosecution of his objects, those\nfacts discovered by the philosopher in the study of Nature. He should by\nall means understand the principles upon which Nature works, and the\nmeans which she employs for attaining her ends. He ought, as far as\ncircumstances will allow, to arrive at his object by similar means;\nchusing similar materials, and endeavouring invariably to work upon the\nsame model. By honestly following out such a mode of procedure, he must\nbe successful; for although he can never attain to the perfection of\nNature, yet this is obviously the best, if not the only method by which\nhe can ever approximate towards it.\n\n\n\n\nPART II.\n\nON THE GREAT DESIGN OF NATURE'S TEACHING, AND THE METHODS SHE EMPLOYS IN\nCARRYING IT ON.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. I.\n\n_A Comprehensive View of the several Educational Processes carried on by\nNature._\n\n\nWe have seen in the former chapters, that the most probable method of\nsucceeding in any difficult undertaking is to learn from Nature, and to\nendeavour to imitate her. The first great question with the Educationist\nthen should be, \"Does Nature ever teach?\" If he can find her so\nemployed, and if he be really willing to learn, he may rest assured,\nthat by carefully studying her operations, he will be able to detect\nsomething in the ends which she aims at, and the methods which she\nadopts for attaining these ends, that will lead him to the selection of\nsimilar means, and crown him ultimately with similar success.\n\nNow we find that Nature does teach; and in so far as rational beings are\nconcerned, whether angelic or human, it appears to be her chief and her\nnoblest employment. In regard to the human family, she no doubt, at a\ncertain period, intends that the task should be taken up and carried on\nby parents and teachers, under her controul; but when we compare the\nnature and success of their operations with hers, we perceive the\nimmense inferiority of their best endeavours, and are obliged to\nconfess, that in many instances, instead of forwarding her work, they\neither mar or destroy it. For in regard to the _matter_ of their\nteaching, it may be observed, that they can teach their pupils nothing,\nexcept what they or their predecessors have learned of Nature\nbefore;--and as to the _manner_ in which it is taught, it is generally\nso very imperfect, that for their success, teachers are often indebted\nin no small degree to the constant interference of Nature, in what is\nordinarily termed the \"common sense\" of their pupils, for rectifying\nmany of their errors, and supplying innumerable deficiencies. Of this we\nshall by and by have to advert more particularly.\n\nThe educational operations of Nature are universal; and she attaches\nlarge rewards to diligence in attending to them. She evidently intends,\nas we have said, that the parent and teacher should take up, and follow\nout her suggestions in this great work; but even when this is delayed,\nor altogether neglected, her part of the proceedings is not abandoned.\nNature is so strong within the pupil, and her educational promptings are\nso powerful, that even without a teacher, he is able for a time to teach\nhimself. In man, and even among many of the more perfect specimens of\nthe lower creation, Nature has suspended the larger portion of their\ncomforts and their security, upon attention to her lessons, and the\npractical application of that which she teaches. The dog which shuns the\nperson who had previously beaten him; the infant that clings to its\nnurse, and refuses to leave her; the boy who refuses to cross the ditch\nhe never tried before; the savage who traces the foot-prints of his\ngame; the man who shrinks from a ruffian countenance; and Newton, when\nthe fall of an apple prompted him to pursue successively the lessons\nwhich that simple event suggested to him, are all examples of the\nteachings of Nature,--specimens of the manner in which she enables her\npupils to collect and retain knowledge, and stimulates them to apply it.\nWherever these suggestions of Nature are individually neglected, there\nmust be discomfort and danger, and wretchedness to the _person_ doing\nso; and wherever they are not taken up by communities, and socially\ntaught by education of some kind or another, _society_ must necessarily\nremain little better than savage.--The opposite of this is equally true;\nfor wherever they are personally attended to, the individual promotes\nhis own safety and comfort; and when they are socially taken up and\nfollowed out by education, however imperfectly, then civilization, and\nnational security, prosperity, and happiness, are the invariable\nconsequences.\n\nThe information which we are to derive from the Academy of Nature, is to\nbe found chiefly in those instances where she is least interfered with\nby the operations of others. In these we shall endeavour to follow her;\nand, by classifying her several processes, and investigating each of\nthem in its order, we shall assuredly be able to arrive at some first\nprinciples, to guide us in imitating the modes of her working, and which\nwill enable us, in some measure, to share in her success.\n\nWhen we take a comprehensive view of the educational processes of\nNature, we find them arranging themselves under four great divisions,\nblending into each other, no doubt, like the kingdoms of Nature and the\ncolours of the rainbow, but still perfectly distinct in their great\ncharacteristics.\n\nThe _first_ educational process which is observable in Nature's Academy,\nis the stimulating of her pupil to such an exercise of mind upon\nexternal objects, as tends powerfully and rapidly to expand and\nstrengthen the powers of his mind. This operation begins with the first\ndawning of consciousness, and continues under different forms during the\nwhole period of the individual's life.\n\nThe _second_ educational process, which in its commencement is perhaps\ncoeval with the first, is Nature's stimulating her pupil to the\nacquisition of knowledge, for the purpose of retaining and using it.\n\nThe _third_ consists in the disciplining of her pupil in the practical\nuse, and proper application of the knowledge received; by which means\nthe knowledge itself becomes better understood, better remembered, and\nmuch more at the command of the will than it was before:--\n\nAnd her _fourth_ educational process consists, in training her pupil to\nacquire facility in communicating by language, his knowledge and\nexperience to others.\n\nThe _first_ of these four general departments in Nature's educational\nprocess, _is the developement and cultivation of the powers of her\npupil's mind_.--This part of Nature's work begins at the first dawn of\nintelligence; and it continues through every other department of her\neducational process. For several months during infancy, sensation itself\nis but languid. The first indistinct perceptions of existence gradually\ngive place to a dreamy and uncertain consciousness of personal\nidentity.--Pain is felt; light is perceived; objects begin to be\ndefined, and distinguished; ideas are formed; and then, but not till\nthen, reflection, imagination, and memory, are gradually brought into\nexercise, and cultivated. It is the extent and strength of these\nfaculties, as we shall afterwards see, that is to measure the\neducational progress of the child; and therefore it is, that the first\nobject of Nature seems to be, to secure their proper developement. The\nchild feels and thinks; and it is these first feelings and thoughts,\nfrequently repeated, that enable it gradually to extend its mental\noperations. It is in this way only that the powers, of the mind in\ninfants are expanded and strengthened, as there can be no mental culture\nwithout mental exercise. While a child is awake, therefore, Nature\nprompts him to constant and unwearied mental exertion; by which means he\nbecomes more and more familiar with external objects; acquires a better\ncommand over his own mind in perceiving and remembering them; and\nbecomes more and more fitted, not only for receiving constant accessions\nof knowledge, but also for putting that knowledge to use.\n\nThe _second_ part of Nature's educational process, we have said,\nconsists in her powerfully stimulating her pupil to _the acquisition of\nknowledge_.--This, which we call the second part of Nature's operations,\nhas been going on from an early period of the child's history, and it\nacts usually in conjunction with the first. As soon as an infant can\ndistinguish objects, it begins to form ideas regarding them. It\nremembers their shape; it gradually acquires a knowledge of their\nqualities; and these it remembers, and, as we shall immediately see, is\nprompted to put to use upon proper occasions.--It is in the acquisition\nof this kind of knowledge that the principle of curiosity begins to be\ndeveloped. The child's desire for information is increased with every\nnew accession; and for this reason, its mental activity and\nrestlessness, while awake, have no cessation. Every glance of the eye,\nevery motion of the hands or limbs made to gratify its curiosity, as it\nis called, is only an indication of its desire for information:--Every\nsight or sound calls its attention; every portable object is seized,\nmouthed, and examined, for the purpose of learning its qualities. These\noperations at the instigation of Nature are so common, that they are\nscarcely observed; but when we examine more minutely into their effects,\nthey become truly wonderful. For example, were we to hear of an infant\nof two or three years of age, having learned in the course of a few\nmonths to distinguish each soldier in a regiment of Negroes, whose\nfeatures their very parents perhaps would have some difficulty in\ndiscriminating; if he could call each individual by his name; knew also\nthe names and the uses of their several accoutrements; and, besides all\nthis, had learned to understand and to speak their language;--we would\nbe surprised and incredulous. And yet this would be an accumulation of\nknowledge, not much greater than is attained in the same space of time\nby many of the feeble unsophisticated pupils of Nature.--Infants, having\nno temptation to depart from her mode of discipline, become in a short\nperiod acquainted with the forms, and the uses, and even the names, of\nthousands of persons and objects, not only without labour, but with vast\nsatisfaction and delight.\n\nThe training of her pupils to _the practical use of their knowledge_,\nforms the _third_ department in Nature's educational process.--This is\nthe great end which the two previous departments were designed to\naccomplish. This is Nature's _chief_ object;--all the others are\nobviously subordinate. The cultivation of the mind, and the acquisition\nof knowledge were necessary;--but that necessity arose from the\ncircumstance of their being preparatory to this. Nature, in fact,\nappears to have stamped this department of her operations almost\nexclusively with her own seal;--repudiating all knowledge that remains\nuseless, and in a short time blotting it entirely from the memory of her\npupils; while that portion of their acquired knowledge, on the contrary,\nwhich is useful and is put to use, becomes in proportion more familiar,\nand more permanent. It is also worthy of remark, that the knowledge\nwhich is most useful, is always most easily and pleasantly acquired.\n\nThe superior importance of this department of education is very\nobservable. In the previous departments of Nature's educational process,\nthe child was induced to _acquire_ new ideas;--in this he is prompted to\n_make use of them_. In the former he was taught to _know_;--in this he\nis trained to _act_. For example, if he has learned that his nurse is\nkind, Nature now prompts him to act upon that knowledge, and he\naccordingly strains every nerve to get to his nurse;--if he has learned\nthat comfits are sweet, he acts upon that knowledge, and endeavours to\nprocure them;--and if he has once experimentally learned that the fire\nwill burn, he will ever afterwards keep from the fire.\n\nLast of all comes the _fourth_, or supplementary step in this beautiful\neducational process of Nature. It consists in gradually training her\npupil to _communicate the knowledge and experience which he has\nattained_.--It is probable that Nature begins this part of her process\nbefore the child has acquired the use of language;--but as it is by\nlanguage chiefly that man holds fellowship with man, it is not till he\nhas learned to speak that the mental exercise on which its success\ndepends, becomes sufficiently marked and obvious. It consists, not in\nthe acquisition of language so much, as in the use of language after it\nhas been gained. The pupil is for this purpose prompted by Nature to\nthink and to speak at the same moment;--mentally to prepare one\nsentence, while he is giving utterance to its predecessor. That this is\nnot the result of instinct, but is altogether an acquisition made under\nthe tuition of Nature by the mental exertions of the infant himself, is\nobvious from the fact, that he is at first incapable of it, and never\npronounces three, and very seldom two words consecutively without a\npause between each. This the child continues to do after he is perfectly\nfamiliar with the meaning of many words, and after he can also pronounce\neach of them individually. In giving utterance to the first words which\nhe uses, there is an evident suspension of the mind in regard to every\nthing else. His whole attention appears to be concentrated upon the word\nand its pronunciation. He cannot think of any thing else and pronounce\nthe word at the same time; and it is not till after long practice that\nhe can utter two, three, or more words in a sentence, without hesitation\nand a decided pause between them. It is only by degrees that he acquires\nthe ability to utter a phrase, and at last a short sentence, without\ninterruption. Nature prompts the child to this exercise, which from the\nfirst attempt, to the full flow of eloquence in the extemporaneous\ndebater, consists simply in commanding and managing one set of ideas in\nthe mind, at the moment the person is giving utterance to others. This\ncannot be done by _the child_, but it is gradually acquired by _the\nman_; and we shall see in its proper place, that this acquisition is\nentirely the result of a mental exercise, such as we have here\ndescribed, and to which various circumstances in childhood and youth are\nmade directly subservient.\n\nHere then we have the highway of education, marked off, and walled in by\nNature herself. That these four great departments in her educational\nprocess will be much better defined, and their parts better understood,\nwhen experience has given more ample opportunities for their\nobservation, cannot be doubted; and it is not improbable, that future\ninvestigations will suggest a different arrangement of heads, and a\ndifferent modification of their parts also; but still, the great outline\nof the whole, we think, is so distinctly marked, that, so far as they\ngo, there can be little mistake; and by following them, we are most\nlikely to obtain a large amount of those benefits which education is\nintended to secure.--To excel Nature is impossible; but by endeavouring\nto imitate her, we may at least approach nearer to her perfections.\n\nIt is not enough, however, for us to perceive the great outlines of\nNature's operations in education; we must endeavour to follow her into\nthe details, and investigate the means which she employs for carrying\nthem into practical effect. We shall therefore take up the several\ndepartments above enumerated in their order, and endeavour to trace the\nlaws which regulate her operations in each, for the purpose of assisting\nthe teacher in his attempts to imitate them.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. II.\n\n_On the Method employed by Nature for cultivating the Powers of the\nMind._\n\n\nThe _first_ step in Nature's educational process, is the cultivation of\nthe powers of the mind; and, without entering into the recesses of\nmetaphysics, we would here only recall to the recollection of the\nreader, that the mind, so far as we yet know, can be cultivated in no\nother way than by voluntary exercise:--not by mere sensation, or\nperception, nor by the involuntary flow of thought which is ever passing\nthrough the mind; but by the active mental operation called\n\"thinking,\"--the voluntary exertion of the powers of the mind upon the\nidea presented to it, and which we have denominated \"reiteration,\"[1] as\nperhaps best descriptive of that thinking of the presented idea \"over\nagain,\" by which alone, as we shall see, the mind is cultivated, and\nknowledge increased.\n\nIt is also here worthy of remark, that the cultivation of the powers of\nher pupil's mind, as a preliminary to their acquiring and applying of\nknowledge, appears to be a settled arrangement of Nature, and one which\nmust be rigidly followed by the teacher, wherever success is to be hoped\nfor. Analogy, in other departments of Nature's operations, proves its\nnecessity, and points out its wisdom; for she is never premature, and\nnever stimulates her pupils to any work, till they have been properly\nprepared for accomplishing it. Hence the consistency and importance of\ncommencing the process of education, by expanding and cultivating the\npowers of the mind, preparatory to the future exertions of the pupil;\nand hence also the wisdom of requiring no more from the child, than the\nstate of his mental powers at the time are capable of performing. Our\nobject, at present, is to discover the means employed by Nature for\naccomplishing this preliminary object, that we may, by imitating her\nplans, obtain the greatest amount of benefit.\n\nIn infancy, and during the early part of a child's life, each of the\nthousands of objects and actions which are presented to its observation,\nfalls equally on the organs of sense, and each of them _might_, if the\nchild had pleased, have become objects of perception, as well as objects\nof sensation. But it is evident, that till the mind occupy itself upon\none or more of these objects, there can be no mental exercise, and, of\ncourse, no mental culture. On the contrary, if the mind shall single out\nany one object from the mass that surrounds it,--shall entertain the\nidea suggested by its impression on the organs of sense, and think of\nit--that is, review it on the mind--there is then mental exercise, and,\nin consequence, mental cultivation. From this obvious truth it\nnecessarily follows, that the cultivation of the mind does not depend\nupon the multitude of objects presented to the observation of a child,\nbut only on those which it really does observe,--which it looks at, and\nthinks upon, by an active voluntary exercise of its own powers. The\nchild, no doubt, _might_ have smelt every odour; it _might_ have\nlistened to every sound that entered the ear; and it _might_ have looked\nupon every image that entered the eye; but we know that it did not. A\nfew of them only were thought of,--the ideas which they suggested were\nalone \"reiterated\" by the mind,--and therefore they, and they alone,\ntended to its cultivation.\n\nAs this act of the mind lies at the root of all mental improvement,\nduring every stage of the pupil's education, it becomes a matter of\nconsiderable importance, that its nature, and mode of operation, should\nbe thoroughly understood.\n\nLet us for this purpose suppose that a lighted candle is suddenly\npresented before a young infant. He looks at it; he thinks of it; his\nmind is employed with the flame of the candle in a manner quite\ndifferent from what it is upon any thing else in the room. All the other\nimages which enter the eye fail to make an impression upon the mind; but\nthis object which the child looks at,--observes,--does this; and\naccordingly, while it is passive as to every thing else, the mind is\nfound to be actively engaged with the candle. He not only sees it, but\nhe looks at it. This, and similar \"reiterations\" of ideas by the mind,\nfrequently repeated by the infant, gradually communicate to it a\nconsciousness of mental power, and enable him more and more easily to\nwield it. Every such instance of the reiteration of an idea,--of the\nvoluntarily exercise of active thought,--strengthens the powers of the\nmind, so that he is soon able to look at and follow with his eyes other\nobjects, although they are much less conspicuous than the glare of a\ncandle.\n\nWhen we examine the matter a little farther in regard to infants, we\nperceive, that all the little arts used by the mother or the nurse, to\n\"amuse the child,\" as it is called, are nothing more than means employed\nto excite this reiteration of ideas by the mind. A toy, for example, is\npresented to the infant, and his attention is fixed upon it. He is not\nsatisfied with passively seeing the toy, as he sees all the other\nobjects in the room, but he actively looks at it. Nor is this enough;\nthe toy is usually seized, handled, mouthed, and turned; and each\nmovement prompts the mind to active thought,--to reiterate the idea\nwhich each of the sensations suggests. These impressions are no doubt\nrapid, but they are real; and each of them has been reiterated,--actively\nthought of,--before they could either be received, or remembered; and it\nis only by these impressions frequently repeated, in which the mind is\nvigorously and delightfully engaged, that it acquires that activity and\nstrength which we so frequently witness in the young.\n\nAt a more advanced period during childhood and youth, we find the\ncultivation of the mind still depending upon the same principle. It is\nnot enough that numerous objects be presented to the senses of the\npupil; or that numerous words or sounds be made to vibrate in his ears;\nor even that he himself be made mechanically to utter them. This may be\ndone, and yet the mind may remain perfectly inactive with respect to\nthem all:--Nay, experience shews, that during such mechanical exercises,\nhis mind may all the time be actively employed upon something else.\nThere must therefore, not only be a hearing, or a reading of the words\nwhich convey an idea, but he must make the idea his own, by thinking it\nover again for himself. Hence it is that mental vigour is not acquired\nin proportion to the number of pages that the pupil is compelled to\nread; nor to the length of the discourses which are delivered in his\nhearing; nor to the multiplicity of objects placed before him. It is\nfound entirely to depend upon his diligence in thinking for himself;--in\nreiterating in his own mind the ideas which he hears, or reads, or which\nare suggested to his mind by outward objects. This is still the same act\nof the mind which we have described in the infant, with this very\nimportant difference, however, that a large portion of his ideas is now\nsuggested by _words_, instead of _things_; but it is the ideas, and not\nthe words, that the mind lays hold of, and by which its powers are\ncultivated. When this act therefore is successfully forced upon a child\nin any of his school operations, the mind will be disciplined and\nimproved;--but wherever it is not produced, however plausible or\npowerful the exercise may _appear_ to be, it will on scrutiny be found\nto be totally worthless in education,--a mere mechanical operation, in\nwhich, there being no mental exertion, there can be no mental culture.\n\nIn the adult, as well as in the young and the infant, the culture of the\nmind is carried on in every case by the operation of the same\nprinciple.--However various the means employed for this purpose may be,\nthey all depend for their success upon this kind of active\nthought,--this reiteration of the _ideas_ suggested in the course of\nreading, hearing, observation, or reasoning. A man may turn a wheel, or\npoint pins, or repeat words from infancy to old age, without his mind's\nbeing in the least perceptible degree benefited by such operations;\nwhile the mill-wright, the engineer, or the artist, whose employments\nrequire varied and active thought, cannot pursue his employment for a\nsingle day, without mental culture, and an acquisition of mental\nstrength.--The reason is, that in mere mechanical operations there is\nnothing to induce this act of reiteration,--this active mental exercise\nof which we are speaking. In the former case, the individual is left to\nthe train of thought in the mind, which appears to afford no mental\ncultivation;--whereas, in the latter, the mind is, by the acts of\ncomparing, judging, trying, and deciding, which the nature of his\noccupation renders necessary, constantly excited to active\nthought,--that is, to the reiteration of the several ideas presented to\nit.\n\nThese remarks may be thought by some to be exceedingly commonplace and\nself-evident.--It may be so. If they be admitted, we ask no more.--Our\npurpose at present is answered, if we have detected a principle in\neducation, by the operation of which the powers of the mind are\ninvariably expanded and strengthened;--an effect which, so far as we yet\nknow, in its absence never takes place. It is by means of this principle\nalone that Nature accomplishes this important object, both in young and\nold; but its effects are especially observable in the young, where, her\noperations not being so much interfered with, we find her producing by\nits means the most extraordinary effects, and that even during the most\nimbecile period of her pupil's existence.\n\nIn concluding this part of our investigation, we would very briefly\nremark, that the existence of this principle in connection with the\ncultivation of the mind, accounts in a very satisfactory manner for the\nbeneficial results which usually accompany the study of languages,\nmathematics, and some other branches of education similar in their\nnature.--These objects of study, when once acquired, may never\nafterwards be used, and will consequently be lost; but in learning them\nthe pupil was compelled to think,--to exercise his own mind on the\nsubjects taught,--to reflect, and to reiterate the ideas communicated to\nhim, till they had been fully mastered. The mental vigour which was at\nfirst forced upon the pupil, by these beneficial exercises, remains with\nhim, and is exercised upon other objects, as they are presented to his\nobservation in ordinary life.--The mind in commencing these studies\ngradually emancipates itself from the mechanical tendencies which an\nimproper system of teaching had previously formed, and now gathers\nstrength daily by this natural mode of exercising its powers. It is the\neffects of this kind of discipline that constitute the chief element of\na cultivated mind. In this principally consists the difference between a\nman of \"liberal education,\" and others who have been less highly\nfavoured.--His superiority does not lie in his ability to read Latin and\nGreek,--for these attainments may long ago have been forgotten and\nlost;--but in the state of his mind, and the superior cultivation of the\nmental powers.--He possesses a clearness, a vigour, and a grasp of mind\nabove others, which enable him at a glance to comprehend a\nstatement;--to judge of its accuracy;--and, without effort, to arrange\nand communicate his ideas concerning it. This ability, as we have seen,\ncan be acquired only by active mental exercise, and is not necessarily\nthe result of extensive reading, nor is it always accompanied by\nextensive knowledge. It is the natural and the necessary product of\nmental discipline, through which the above described act of\n\"reiteration,\" like a golden thread, runs from beginning to end. It is\nthe fire of intellect, kindled at first perhaps by classical, and\nmathematical studies; but which now, collecting force and fuel from\nevery circumstance of life, glows and shines, long after the materials\nwhich first excited the flame have disappeared.\n\nIf then, as we formerly explained, the arts are to derive benefit from\nthe investigations of science, we are led to the conclusion, that the\nwisdom of the Teacher will consist in taking advantage of the principle\nwhich has been here exhibited. He should not speculate nor theorize, nor\ngo forward inconsiderately in using exercises, the benefits of which are\nat least questionable; but he ought implicitly to follow Nature in the\npath which she has thus pointed out to him. One chief object with him\nshould be, the cultivation of the minds of his pupils; and the only\nmethod by which he can attain success in doing so has now been stated.\nHe must invent, or procure some exercise, or series of exercises, by\nwhich the act of \"reiteration\" in the minds of his pupils shall be\nregularly and systematically carried on.--He must induce them to think\nfor themselves, and to exercise the powers of their own minds\ndeliberately and frequently,--in the same manner as we see Nature\noperating in the mind of a lively and active child. When he can\naccomplish this, he will, and he must succeed; whereas, if he allow an\nexercise to be prepared where this act of the mind is absent, he may\nrest assured that he is deceiving both himself and the child.--The laws\nof Nature are inflexible; and while she will undoubtedly countenance and\nreward these who act upon the principles which she has established, she\nwill as certainly leave those who neglect them to eat the \"fruit of\ntheir own doings.\"--But the pupil, more than the Teacher is the\nsufferer. Under the pure discipline of Nature in the infant and the\nchild, learning is not only their business, but their delight; and it is\nonly when her principles are unknown, or violently outraged, that\neducation becomes a burden, and the school-house a prison.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] Note A.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. III.\n\n_On the Means by which Nature enables her Pupils to acquire Knowledge._\n\n\nThe _second_ stage of the pupil's advance under the teaching of Nature\nis that in which she prompts and assists him in the acquisition of\nknowledge.--The importance of this department of a child's education has\nuniformly been acknowledged;--so much so, indeed, that it has too\nfrequently absorbed the whole attention of the Teacher, as if the\npossession of knowledge were the whole of education.--That this is a\nmistake we shall afterwards see; because the value of knowledge must\nalways be in proportion to the use we can make of it; but it is equally\ntrue, that as we cannot use knowledge till we have acquired it, its\nacquisition as a preliminary step is of the greatest importance. Our\nintention is at present, to enquire into the means employed by Nature,\nfor enabling her pupils to acquire, to retain, and to classify their\nknowledge; so that, by ascertaining and imitating her methods, we may in\nsome degree share in her success.\n\nFor some time during the early years of childhood Nature is the chief,\nor the only Teacher; and the contrast between her success at that time,\nand the success of the parent or teacher who succeeds her, is very\nremarkable, and deserves consideration.\n\nWhen we examine this process in the case of infants, we see Nature\nacting without interference, and therefore with undeviating success.\nWithin a few months after the child has attained some degree of\nconsciousness, we find that Nature, under every disadvantage of body and\nmind, has succeeded in communicating to the infant an amount of\nknowledge, which, when examined in detail appears very wonderful.--The\nchild has been taught to know his relations and friends; he has acquired\nthe ability to use his limbs, and muscles, and organs, and the knowledge\nhow to do so in a hundred different ways. He has become familiar with\nthe form, the colour, the texture, and the names of hundreds of articles\nof dress, of furniture, of food, and of amusement, not only without\nfatigue, but in the exercise of the purest delight, and with increasing\nenergy. He has begun to contrast objects, and to compare them; and this\ncapacity he evinces by an undeviating accuracy in choosing those things\nwhich please him, and in rejecting those things which he dislikes. But\nabove all, the infant, along with all this substantial knowledge, has\nbeen taught to understand a language, and even to speak it. The fact of\nall this having been accomplished by a child of only two or three years\nof age, is so common, that the mysterious principles which it involves,\nare too generally overlooked. We thoughtlessly allow them to escape\nobservation, as if they were mere matters of instinct, and were to be\nranked with the spider's catching its prey, or the sparrow's building\nits nest. But the principles which regulate these different operations\nare perfectly dissimilar. In the case of the spider and the sparrow\nthere is no teaching, and, of course, no learning. Their first web, and\ntheir first nest, are as perfect as the last; but in the case of the\ninfant, with only two or three exceptions, there is nothing that he\ndoes, and nothing that he knows, which he has not really\nlearned,--acquired by experience under the tuition of Nature, by the\nactual use of his own mental and physical powers.\n\nThe benefits accruing to education, from successfully imitating Nature\nin this department of her process, will be incalculable; not only in\nadding to the amount of knowledge communicated, but in the ease and\ndelight which the young will experience in acquiring it. All must admit\nthat the pleasure, as well as the rapidity, of the educational process\nin the young, continues only during the time that Nature is their\nteacher;--and that her operations are generally checked, or neutralized\nby the mismanagement of those who supersede her work, and begin to\ntheorize for themselves. The proof of this is to be found in the fact,\nthat although a child is much less capable of acquiring knowledge\nbetween one and three years of age, than he is between eight and ten;\nyet, generally, the amount of his intellectual attainments by his school\nexercises, during the two latter years, bears no proportion to those of\nthe former, when Nature _alone_ was his teacher. In the one case, too,\nhis knowledge was acquired without effort or fatigue, and in the\nexercise of the most delightful feelings;--in the other, quite the\nreverse.\n\nThat we shall ever be able to equal Nature in this part of her\neducational process, is not to be expected; but that, by following up\nthe principles which she has developed, and imitating the methods by\nwhich she accomplishes her ends, we shall become more and more\nsuccessful, there can be no doubt. The method, therefore, to be adopted\nby us is, to examine carefully the principles which she employs with the\nyoung, through the several stages of her process, and then, by adopting\nexercises which embody these principles, to proceed in a course similar\nto that which she has pointed out.\n\nIn prosecuting this plan, then, our object must be, first, to examine\ngenerally the various means employed by Nature, in the acquisition of\nknowledge by the young,--and then to attend more in detail to the mode\nby which she applies the principles involved in each.\n\nThese general means appear to consist of four distinct principles,\nwhich, for want of better definitions, we shall denominate\n\"Reiteration,\" \"Individuation, or Abstraction,\" \"Grouping, or\nAssociation,\" and \"Classification, or Analysing.\"[2]\n\nThe _first_ is the act of \"Reiteration,\" of which we have already\nspoken, as the chief instrument in cultivating the powers of the mind,\nand without which, we shall also find, there can be no acquisition of\nknowledge. The _second_ is the principle of \"Individuation,\" by which\nNature communicates the knowledge of single ideas, or single objects, by\nconstraining the child to concentrate the powers of its mind upon one\nobject, or idea, till that object or idea is familiar, or, at least,\nknown. The _third_ is the common principle of \"Grouping, or\nAssociation,\" and appears to depend, in some degree, on the imaginative\npowers, by which a child begins to associate objects or truths together,\nafter they have become individually familiar; so that any one of them,\nwhen afterwards presented to the mind, enables the pupil at a glance, to\ncommand all the others which were originally associated with it. The\n_fourth_ is the principle of \"Classification, or Analysing,\" by which\nthe mind distributes objects or truths according to their nature,--puts\nevery truth or idea, as it is received, into its proper place, and among\nobjects or ideas of a similar kind. This classification of objects is\nnot, as in the principle of grouping, regulated according to their\naccidental relation to each other, by which the canary and the cage in\nwhich it is confined would be classed together; but according to their\nnature and character, by which the canary would be classified with\nbirds, and the cage among other articles of household furniture. All\nknowledge, so far as we are aware, appears to be communicated and\nretained for use, by means of these four principles; and we shall now\nproceed to examine the mode in which each of them is employed by Nature\nfor that purpose.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[2] Note A.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. IV.\n\n_On Nature's Method of communicating Knowledge to the Young by the\nPrinciple of Reiteration._\n\n\nWe have, in a former chapter, endeavoured to describe that particular\nact of the mind which generally follows simple perception, and by which\nan idea, when presented to it, is made the subject of _active thought_,\nor is \"_reiterated_\" again to itself. We have found upon good evidence,\nthat it is by this process, whether simple or complex, that the powers\nof the mind are cultivated; and we now proceed to shew, that it is by\nthe same act, and by it alone, that any portion of knowledge is ever\ncommunicated.[3] No truth, or idea of any kind, can make an effective\nentrance into the mind, or can find a permanent lodgement in the memory,\nso as to become \"knowledge,\" until it has successfully undergone this\nprocess.\n\nThere are two ways by which we usually acquire knowledge:--The one is by\n_observation_, without the use of language, and which is common to us\nwith those who are born deaf and dumb; and the other is _through the\nmedium of words_, either heard or read. In both cases, however, the\nknowledge retained consists entirely of the several _ideas_ which the\nobjects or the words convey; and what we are now to shew, is, that these\nideas thus conveyed, can neither be received by the mind, nor retained\nby the memory, till they have undergone this process of \"reiteration.\"\nWhile, on the contrary, it will be seen that, whenever this process\nreally takes place, the idea thus reiterated does become part of our\nknowledge, and is, according to circumstances, more or less permanently\nfixed upon the memory. We shall for this purpose endeavour to trace the\noperation of the principle, both in the case of ideas communicated by\nobjects without language, and in those conveyed to the mind by means of\nwords.\n\nThat this act of reiteration of an idea by the mind, must take place,\nbefore objects of perception can become part of our knowledge, will, we\nthink, be obvious, from a consideration of the following facts.--When,\nfor example, we are in a crowded room, or in the fields, numerous sounds\nenter the ear,--thousands of images enter into and impress the eye, yet\nnot one of these becomes part of our knowledge till it is _thought\nof_;--that is, till the idea suggested by the sensation, has not only\nbeen perceived, but reiterated by the mind. This will appear to many so\nplain, that any farther illustration of the fact may be deemed useless.\nBut experience, has shewn, that the illustration of this important\nprocess in education, is not only expedient, but is really necessary; as\nthe overlooking of this simple principle has often been the cause of\ngreat inconsistencies on the part of teachers. We shall therefore\nendeavour to exhibit the working of the principle in various forms, that\nit may be fully appreciated when we come to apply it.\n\nLet us then suppose two children taken silently through a museum of\ncuriosities, the one active and lively, the other dull and listless. It\nwould be found on retiring, that the former would be able to give an\naccount of many things which he saw, and that the other would remember\nlittle or nothing. In this case, all the objects in the exhibition were\nseen by both; and the question arises, \"Why does the knowledge of the\none, so much exceed that of the other?\" The reason is, that the mind of\nthe one was active, while the mind of the other was in a great measure\ninactive. Both _saw_ the objects; but only one _looked at_ them. The one\nactively employed his mind--fixed his eye on an object, and thought of\nit; that is, he reiterated the ideas it suggested to him, whether as to\nform, or colour, or movement, and by doing so, the ideas thus\nreiterated, were effectively received, and given over to the keeping of\nthe memory. The other child saw the whole; they were perhaps objects of\nperception; but he allowed his sensations to die away as they were\nreceived; and his mind was left to wander, or to remain under the dreamy\ninfluence of a mere passive and evanescent train of thought. His\n\"attention\" was not arrested;--his mind was not actively engaged on any\nof the articles he saw; in other words, the ideas which they suggested\nwere not \"reiterated.\"[4]\n\nNow, that it was the want of this mental reiteration which was the\ncause, and the only cause, why this very usual means of acquiring\nknowledge failed to communicate it, may be proved we think by a very\nsimple experiment. For if we shall suppose that the child who was\nobtaining no knowledge by means of the various curiosities around him,\nhad been asked at the time a question respecting any of them,--a stuffed\ndog, for example,--his attention would have been arrested, and his mind\nwould have been roused to active thought. The words, \"What is that?\"\nfrom his teacher, or companion, would have made him look at it, and\nreiterate the ideas of its form and colour, so far as to enable him to\ngive an answer. And if he does so, it will be found afterwards, on\nleaving the place, that although he might have remained unconscious of\nthe presence of all the other objects in the museum, he will remember\nthe stuffed dog, merely because, by the question, the idea it suggested\nwas taken up, and reiterated by the mind; while the sensations caused\nby all the rest, were allowed to pass away.\n\nThere is another circumstance of daily occurrence, which adds to the\nevidence that it is this principle which we have called \"reiteration,\"\nwhich forms the chief, if not the only avenue, by which ideas find\naccess to the mind; and it is this:--That when at any time we bring to\nrecollection some former circumstance of life, however remote, or when\nwe recall any part of our former knowledge or experience, it comes up to\nthe mind, accompanied with the perfect consciousness, that, at the time\nwe are thinking of, this act of reiteration had taken place upon it;\nthat we most assuredly have thought of it before. We are not more\ncertain that it occupies our thoughts now, than we are that it did so\nwhen it occurred;--that the operation of which we are at present\nspeaking, did actually then take place; and that it was by our doing so\nthen, that it is remembered now. This circumstance, when duly\nconsidered, is of itself, we think, a sufficient proof, that no part of\nour knowledge,--not a single idea,--can be acquired, or retained on the\nmemory by any other process, than by this act of reiteration.\n\nHence then it is plain, that all the knowledge which we receive by\nobservation, without the use of language, is received and retained on\nthe memory by the operation of this principle; and we will now proceed\nto shew, that the same process must also take place, when our ideas are\nreceived by means of _words_, whether these be spoken or read.\n\nIt is of great importance for us to remember, that the only legitimate\nuse of words is to convey ideas; and that Nature rigidly refuses to\nacknowledge any other use to which they may be put. Hence it is, that in\nconversation, we are quite unconscious of the words which our friend\nuses in communicating his ideas. Nature impels us to lay hold of the\nideas alone; and in proof of this we find, that we have only to attempt\nto concentrate our attention upon the _words_ he uses, and then we are\nsure to lose sight of the _ideas_ which the words were intended to\nconvey. Hence it is, that our opinion of the style, and the language,\nand the manner of a speaker, when the subject itself is not familiar,\nare formed more by indirect impressions, than by direct attention to\nthese things while he speaks; and oftener by reflection afterwards, than\nby any critical observation during the time. The reason of this, we may\nremark once for all, is, that what the mind reiterates it\nremembers,--but nothing more. If during the hearing, it reiterates the\nideas, it will then remember the ideas; but if it reiterates the words\nwithout the ideas, it will remember nothing but words. Those therefore\nwho sow words in the minds of the young, hoping afterwards to reap\nideas, are as inconsistent as those who seek to \"gather grapes of\nthorns, or figs of thistles.\"[5]\n\nKnowledge is received by the use of words in two ways,--either by oral\nspeech, or by written language; but in both cases, the reception of the\nideas is still governed by reiteration. We shall endeavour to examine\nthe operation in both cases.\n\nLet us suppose that a teacher announces to a class of young children,\nthat \"Cain killed his brother Abel,\"--and then examines the state of\neach child's mind in regard to it. All of them heard the words, but some\nonly perhaps are now in possession of the truth communicated. Those who\nare so, followed the teacher in his announcement, not so much in\nreiterating the words, as in reiterating the idea,--the truth itself;\nand therefore it is, that they are now acquainted with the fact. Of\nthose who heard, but have failed to add this truth to their stock of\nknowledge, there may be two classes;--those who attended to what was\nsaid, but failed to interpret the words; and those whose attention was\nnot excited at all. Those who failed to interpret the words, or to\nextract the idea from them, reiterated the _words_ to themselves, and\nwould perhaps be able to repeat the words again, but they do so in the\nsame manner that a person reads or repeats words in an unknown tongue.\nThe idea,--the truth,--is not yet perceived, and therefore cannot be\nremembered. The others who remember nothing, have reiterated nothing;\ntheir minds remained inactive. They also heard the words, but they\nfailed to listen to them; in the same way as they often see objects, but\ndo not look at them. Here it is evident that every child who reiterated\nthe idea in his own mind, is in possession of the fact communicated; and\nall who did not do so, even although they reiterated the words, have no\naddition made to their knowledge; which shews that it is only by this\nact of the reiteration of the ideas, that any portion of our knowledge\nis ever acquired.\n\nThat this is a correct exhibition of the principle, and a legitimate\ninference from the phenomena, may be still farther proved by an\nexperiment similar to one formerly recommended. Let the teacher, in the\nmiddle of a story, ask some of the inattentive pupils a question\nrespecting some of the persons or things he is speaking about, and force\nthe reiteration of that part of the narrative in the child's mind by\ngetting an answer, and it will be found at the close, that although he\nmay remember nothing else of all that he heard, yet he will most\nperfectly remember that part about which he was questioned, and\nrespecting which he returned an answer.\n\nThe same thing may be ascertained by our own experience, in hearing a\nlecture or sermon, or even in conversation with a friend. In these\ncases, as long as our attention is kept up,--that is, as long as we\ncontinue to reiterate the ideas that we hear,--we may remember them; but\nwhen our minds flag, or wander; in other words, when we cease to\nreiterate the ideas of the speaker, the sounds enter our ear, but the\nmatter is gone. All that has been said during that period of inattention\nhas been lost; it never has formed, and never can form, part of our\nknowledge.\n\nThus we see, that in the act of hearing oral communications, the\nprinciple of reiteration of the ideas is obviously necessary for the\nacquiring of knowledge; and we shall now shew, that it is equally\nnecessary in the act of reading.\n\nMany persons must have witnessed children reading distinctly, and\nfluently perhaps, who yet were not made one whit wiser by what they\nread. The act of reading was correctly performed, and yet there was no\naccession to their knowledge. The cause of this is easily explained. The\n_ideas_ conveyed by the words have not been reiterated by the\nmind,--perhaps they were never perceived. For as long as the act of\nreading is difficult, the words undergo this process first, and the\nideas must be gleaned afterwards. Hence it is, that children, when\nhurried from lesson to lesson before they can read them so easily as to\nperceive and reiterate the ideas while reading, acquire the habit of\ndecyphering the words alone, and the eye from practice reads\nmechanically, while the mind at the moment is usually wandering, or is\nengaged in attending to something else. Nature, as we have before shewed\nin the act of hearing, does not intend that the mind should pay\nattention both to the words and the ideas at the same time; and reading\nbeing only an artificial substitute for hearing, is made subject to the\nsame law. It is the _ideas_ that Nature induces us to grapple with; and\nthe reading of words like the hearing of language, is merely the means\nemployed to get at them. Hence the necessity of children being taught to\nread fluently, and with perfect ease, before they leave the school; and\nthe neglect of this is the reason why so many after leaving school,\nderive so little instruction from the use of books. Of these\nindividuals, experience shews, that many, who on leaving school could\nnot collect ideas by their mode of mechanical reading, yet persevere,\nand at last teach themselves by long practice to understand what they\nread; while there are not a few who, in similar circumstances, become\ndiscouraged, abandon the practice of reading, and soon forget the art\naltogether.\n\nOf the correctness of these facts, every one may be convinced, by\nrecollecting what must often have taken place with himself. When at any\ntime the mind is exhausted while reading, we continue to read on, page\nafter page, and when we have finished, we find, that not a single truth\nhas made its way to the memory. Now this did not arise from any\ndifficulty in comprehending the ideas in the book, because it does not\nmake much difference whether the subject has been simple or otherwise;\nneither did it arise from the want of all mental activity, for the mind\nwas so much engaged as to read every word and every letter in the pages\nupon which we were occupied. But it arose entirely from the want of that\nprinciple of which we are here speaking. The words were read\nmechanically, and the ideas were either not thought of, or at least they\nwere not reiterated by the mind, and therefore it is that they are\nlost,--and no effort can ever again recall them. The proof of the\naccuracy of these views will still be found in the circumstance, that\nif, while the person is reading, this act of the reiteration of some one\nor more of the ideas be in any way forced upon him, _these_ ideas thus\nreiterated will afterwards be remembered, although all the others are\nlost.\n\nHere then we have arrived at a principle connected with the acquisition\nof knowledge, by attending to which education may be made most efficient\nfor that purpose; but without which, education must remain a mere\nmechanical routine of barren exercises. No idea, no truth, we have seen,\ncan ever form part of our knowledge, till it has undergone this\nparticular mental process, which we have called \"reiteration.\" If the\nidea, or truth, intended to be communicated, be reiterated by the\nmind,--thought over again,--it will then be remembered:--but if it be\nnot reiterated by the mind, it never can. It is also worthy of remark,\nthat the tenacity with which the memory keeps hold of any idea or truth,\ndepends greatly upon the vigour of the mind at the time, and still more\nperhaps upon the frequency of its reiteration. If a child, however\nlanguid, is forced to this act of reiteration of an idea but once, it\nwill be remembered for a longer or a shorter time; but if his mind be\nvigorous and lively, and more especially if he can be made _repeatedly_\nto reiterate the same idea in his mind at intervals, he will on that\naccount, retain it much more tenaciously, and will have it at the\ncommand of the will more readily. Hence the vividness with which the\nscenes and the circumstances of youth arise upon the mind, and the\ntenacity with which the memory holds them. These scenes were of daily\noccurrence; and the small number of remarkable circumstances connected\nwith childhood and youth having few rivals to compete with them in\nattracting the attention, were witnessed frequently with all the vigour\nand liveliness of the youthful mind, as yet unburdened with care. They\nwere of course frequently subjected to observation, and as frequently\nreiterated by the mind, and have on these accounts ever since been\nvividly pictured by the imagination, and continue familiar to the\nmemory. It also accounts for another circumstance of common occurrence.\nFor when, even in early infancy, any event happened which made a deeper\nimpression upon the mind than usual, that simple circumstance will\ngenerally outlive all its neighbours, and will take precedence in point\nof distinct recollection to the close of life. The reason of this is,\nnot only the deep impression it made upon the mind at the moment, but\nprincipally because it had so strongly excited the feelings, that it was\noftener thought of then and afterwards;--in other words, this act of\nreiteration occurred more frequently with respect to it than the\nothers, and therefore it is now better remembered.\n\nThis is a principle then of which the Educationist should take\nadvantage. For if Nature invariably communicates knowledge by inducing\nher pupils to exercise their own minds on the subject taught, it is\nplain that the teacher should follow the same plan. His pupils cannot\nremain mentally inactive, and yet learn; neither can the mere routine of\nverbal exercises either cultivate the mind or increase knowledge. These\nare but the husks of education, which may tantalize and weaken, but\nwhich can never satisfy the cravings of the young mind for information.\nTheir mental food must be of a perfectly different kind, consisting of\n_ideas_, and not of _words_; and these ideas they must receive and\nconcoct by the active use of their own powers. The teacher must no doubt\nselect the food for his pupils, and prepare it for their reception, by\nbreaking it down into morsels, suited to their capacities. But this is\nall. They must eat and digest it for themselves. The pupil must think\nover in his own mind, and for himself, all that he is either to know or\nremember. The ideas read or heard must be reiterated by\nhimself,--thought over again,--if he is ever to profit by them. Without\nthis, no care or pains on the part of the teacher, no exertion on the\npart of the pupil, will be of any avail. All the knowledge that he seems\nto acquire in any other way is repudiated by Nature; and however\nplausible the exercise may appear, it will ultimately be found fruitless\nand vain.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[3] Note B.\n\n[4] Note C.\n\n[5] Note D.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. V.\n\n_On the Acquisition of Knowledge by the Principle of Individuation._\n\n\nNature, as we have seen, has rendered it imperative that the act of\nreiteration should be performed upon every idea before it can have an\nentrance into the mind, or be retained by the memory; but as the\nindividual cannot reiterate, or think over, all the ideas suggested to\nhim by the innumerable objects of sensation with which he is surrounded,\nit next becomes a matter of importance to ascertain the means employed\nby Nature for enabling her pupils to receive and retain the greatest\nnumber of ideas, so that they shall ever afterwards remain at the\ncommand of the will. This she accomplishes by the operation of the three\nother principles to which we have adverted; namely, \"Individuation,\" or\n\"Abstraction,\" \"Grouping,\" or \"Association,\" and \"Classification,\" or\n\"Analysis.\"--We shall in this chapter attend to the principle of\n\"Individuation,\" and endeavour to trace its nature and uses in the\nacquisition of knowledge by the young.\n\nThe first thing in an infant that will be remarked by a close observer\nof Nature is, that while adding to its knowledge by observation, it\nalways confines its attention to one thing at a time, till it has\nexamined it. Before the period when this principle becomes conspicuous\nin an infant, the eye, and the other senses are in a great measure\ninactive, so far as the mind is concerned; and the first indication of\nthe senses really ministering to the mind is the eye chusing an object,\nand the infant examining that object by itself, without allowing its\nattention to be distracted by any thing else.\n\nThis operation takes place as soon as an infant is capable of\nobservation. It fixes its eye upon an object, generally one that is new\nto it, and it continues to look upon it till it has collected all the\ninformation that this object can give, or which the limited capacity of\nthe infant will enable it to receive. Hence with stationary objects this\ninformation is soon acquired; but with moveable objects, or toys, or\nthings which are capable of varying, or multiplying the ideas received\nby the child, the look is more intense, and the attention is sustained\nwithout fatigue for a longer time. Till this information has been\nreceived, the child continues to look on; and if the object be removed,\nthe eye still follows it with interest, and gives it up at last with\nreluctance. That by this concentration of its mind upon one object, the\ninfant is adding to its knowledge, appears evident from the fact, that\nobjects which have already communicated their stock of information, and\nhave become familiar, are less heeded than those that are new or\nuncommon. Every new thing excites the curiosity of the child, who is not\ncontent till that curiosity be gratified. This has been called \"the love\nof novelty;\"--but it is not the love of novelty in the very questionable\nsense in which many understand that term. On the contrary, it is\nobviously a wise provision of Nature, suited to the capacity and\ncircumstances of children, which is to be taken advantage of, for\nconveying such crumbs and morsels of knowledge as their limited powers\nare able to receive; and which should never be abused, by presenting to\nthem an unceasing whirl of names and objects,--a process which fatigues\nthe mind, and leaves them without any specific information. It is the\nsame principle, and is to be considered in the same light, as that which\ninduces the philosopher to confine himself to the investigation of one\nphenomenon till he understands it. The information which the child is\ncapable of receiving from each of the impressions then made is no doubt\nsmall; but it is still information--knowledge.--This is what he is\nseeking; and, at this stage of his progress, it is only acquired by the\nconcentration of the powers of the mind upon one thing at a time.\n\nThe effect of this principle in the infant is worthy of remark.--While\nthe pupil remains under the teaching of Nature, there is no\nconfusion,--no hurry,--no failure. The tasks which she prescribes for\nhim are never oppressive, and are constantly performed with ease and\nwith pleasure.--Although there be no selection made by the parent or\nteacher for the child to exercise his faculties upon, yet he\ninstinctively selects for himself, without hesitation, and without\nmistake. All the objects in a room or in a landscape are before him: yet\nhe is never oppressed by their number, nor bewildered by their\nvariety.--His mind is always at ease.--He chooses for himself; but he\nnever selects more for his special observation at one time than he can\nconveniently attend to. When the objects are new, his attention is\nrestricted to one till it be known; and then, but not till then, as we\nshall immediately see, he is able, and delights to employ himself in\ngrouping it with others.\n\nIn early infancy this attention to one object is protracted and slow,\ntill he gradually acquires sufficient energy of mind by practice.--Every\none must have observed how slowly the eye of an infant of two or three\nmonths old moves after an object, in comparison with one of ten.--But\neven in the latter case, when the glance is lively and rapid, the same\nprinciple of individuation continues to operate. The information from an\nunknown object must still be received alone, and without distraction,\nalthough by that time the child is capable of receiving it more quickly.\nHe is not now satisfied with viewing an object on one side, but he must\nview it on all sides. He endeavours by various means to acquire every\none of the ideas which it is capable of communicating. His new toy is\nviewed with delight and wonder; and his eye by exercise can now scan in\na moment its different parts.--But this is not enough; he has now\nlearned to make use of his other senses, and he employs them also, for\nthe purpose of becoming better acquainted with the object which he is\ncontemplating. His toy is seized, mouthed, handled, turned, looked at on\nall sides, till all the information it can communicate has been\nreceived;--and then only is it cast aside for something else, which is\nin its turn to add to his stock of knowledge.\n\nThe circumstance to which we would especially call attention at present\nis, the singleness of thought exercised upon the object, during the time\nthat the child is amused by it.--He attends to nothing else, and he will\nlook at nothing else; and were his attention forced from it for a\nmoment, this is evidently done unwillingly; and, when allowed, it\nimmediately returns to the object. It is also worthy of notice, that if,\nwhile he is so engaged, we attempt to teach him something else, or in\nother words, to induce him to divide his attention upon some other new\nobject, the distraction of his mind is at once apparent; we perceive\nthat it is unnatural; and we find by experience that he does not profit\nby either. Now, from these indications it must be evident, that any\ninterference with this principle of individuation in teaching any thing\nfor the first time, must always be hurtful:--on the contrary, by\nattending to the principle, and acting upon it in the training of the\nyoung, it must be productive of the happiest effects.--While acted upon,\nunder the guidance of Nature, its efficiency and power are astonishing.\nIt is by means of this principle, that the infant mind, with all its\nimbecility and want of developement, acquires and retains more real\nknowledge in the course of a few months, than is sometimes received at\nschool afterwards during as many years.--Few things are more cheering in\nprospect than the knowledge of this fact; for what may we not expect\nfrom the _man_, when his education while a _child_ shall have been\nimproved, and approximated to that of Nature!\n\nThe operation of the principle of individuation, is not confined to the\ninfant, but continues to maintain its place during all the after stages\nof life, whenever any thing new and uncommon is presented as an object\nof knowledge. Every thing is new to the infant, and therefore this\nprinciple is more conspicuous during the early stages of education.--But\nit is still equally necessary for the child or the youth in similar\ncircumstances; and Nature compels him, as it were, still to concentrate\nthe powers of his mind upon every new object, till he has received and\nbecome familiar with the information it is calculated to furnish.--Every\none must have observed the intensity with which a child examines an\nobject which he has never seen before, and the anxiety which he evinces\nto know all about it.--It requires a considerable effort on his own\npart, and still greater on the part of others, to detach his mind from\nthe object, till it has surrendered the full amount of information which\nthe young enquirer is seeking. The boy with his new drum will attend to\nnothing else if he can help it, as long as he has any thing to learn\nconcerning it, and the noises it is capable of producing.--And even when\nhe has tired himself with beating it, he is not satisfied till he has\nexplored its contents, to find out the cause which has created the\nsounds. The girl with her doll, in the same way, will voluntarily think\nof nothing else, as long as it can provide her with mental exercise;\nthat is, as long as it can add something new to her present stock of\nknowledge. And it is here worthy of remark, that the apparent exception\nin this case, arising from the greater length of time that a doll and a\nfew other similar toys will amuse a child, is in reality a striking\nconfirmation, and illustration of the principle of which we are\nspeaking.--Such toys amuse longer, because it is longer before the\nvariety of which they are capable is exhausted.--The doll is fondled,\nand scolded, and cradled, and dressed, and undressed in so many\ndifferent ways, that the craving for new ideas continues for a long\nperiod to be amply gratified;--but the effect would be quite different,\nwere the very same doll placed where it could only be looked at. Every\nnew movement with the toy is employed by Nature, for the cultivation of\nthe mental powers, by reiterating the ideas thus imparted, and on which\nthe imagination delights to dwell; and also in receiving a knowledge of\nindividual objects and ideas, which, when once known, are to form the\nelements of future groupings, and of an endless variety of information.\n\nIt is here of importance to recollect, that almost all the information\nreceived by children, is of a sensible kind. They can form little or no\nidea of abstract truths. The mind and the memory must be stored with\nsensible objects,--first individually, and then by grouping,--before the\nchild can arrive at a capacity for abstraction. Nature's first object,\ntherefore, is to store the memory and imagination of the young with the\nnames and images of things, which, as we have seen, are acquired\nindividually, and, when once known, are remembered for future use. But\nthose things which they have not yet seen, or felt, or heard, or tasted,\nare totally beyond their conception, and cannot be of any service,\neither in grouping, or classification.--Hence the great importance of\nallowing the young mind to act freely in acquiring new ideas by this\nprinciple of individuation; as without this, all the lessons into which\nsuch ideas shall afterward be introduced, must be in a great measure\nlost. Even adults can form no idea of an unknown object, except by\ncompounding it of something that they already know. And this is at least\nequally the case with children; who, till they can group and compare\nobjects which they have seen, can realize no idea of any thing, however\nsimple, that has not previously been subjected to the senses.--Hence,\ntherefore, the importance at this period of a child's education, of\nconfining the attention chiefly to sensible objects, and of not\nconfounding his faculties, by too early an introduction of abstract\nideas.\n\nHere then we have been able to detect the method by which Nature\nselects, and enables her pupils to prepare the materials of which their\nfuture knowledge is to be compounded. These materials are the ideas of\nsensible objects, and their properties and uses; which must be gathered\nand stored one by one. By inducing them to attempt to seize even two at\na time, they will most probably lose both, and their powers of\ncollecting and storing will, by the same attempt, be injured and\nweakened. It is by means of this principle of individuation, that, with\nthe most intense craving for information, and while placed among\ninnumerable objects calculated to gratify it, the infant and the child\nremain perfectly collected, without the slightest appearance of\ndistraction of mind, or confusion of ideas. With his thirst of knowledge\nardent and constant, it enables him with the greatest delight to add\nhourly to his stores of knowledge, without difficulty, without\nirritation, and without fatigue.\n\nThe application of these truths to the business of education, we shall\nattend to in its proper place; in the meantime we may remark, of how\nmuch importance it is, that all knowledge communicated to the young be\nsimple, and that for some time it consist chiefly of sensible objects,\nand their qualities;--objects which they either know, or can have access\nto. Abstract subjects are not suited for children, till they can group,\nand classify, and compare the sensible objects with which they are\nalready acquainted. The aim of the teacher, therefore, ought to be,\nstrictly to follow Nature in this early stage of her operations, and to\nfurnish food for his pupils, of the proper kind, and in proper\nproportions;--keeping the thinking powers constantly in healthful\nexercise, by giving as many ideas as the mind can reiterate without\nfatigue; but carefully avoiding all hurry or force, seeing that the\npowers of the mind are greatly weakened and injured by a multiplicity of\nobjects, particularly when they are presented so rapidly, that the\nthoughts have not time to settle upon them, nor the mind to reiterate\nthe ideas which they suggest.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. VI.\n\n_On the Application of Knowledge by the Principle of Association, or\nGrouping._\n\n\nAnother principle which exhibits itself in the acquisition of knowledge\nby Nature's pupils, is that of \"grouping,\" or associating objects\ntogether, after they are individually known. A child, or even an infant,\nwho is frightened, or alarmed, or who suffers any severe injury,\nremembers the several circumstances, and has the place, the persons, and\nthe things connected with the event, all associated together, and\ngrouped into one scene or picture on the memory. These objects may have\nbeen numerous; but by the operation of this principle, they have all\nbeen apprehended, and united so powerfully with each other, that no\nfuture effort of the child can either separate or obliterate any portion\nof them; and so comprehensive, that the recollection of any one of the\ncircumstances instantly recalls all the others.\n\nThese groupings in the mind of a child, formed chiefly by means of the\nimagination, are almost wholly compounded of sensible objects; and the\nonly necessary prerequisite for their formation appears to be a\nknowledge of the individual elements of which they are to be composed.\nIf an unknown object be presented to the mind in connection with the\nothers that are known, it is generally excluded, and the things\npreviously known retained. For example, in the case supposed above, of\nan accident occurring to a child, there would be thousands of objects\npresent, and all cognisable by the senses; but not one of all these that\nwere unknown, that is, that had not previously undergone the process of\nindividuation, is found to form part of the remembered group.\n\nThere is another circumstance connected with the operation of this\nprinciple in the young, which is of importance. Almost the whole of a\nchild's knowledge is composed of these groupings. Before the\ndevelopement of the reasoning powers, by which the individual is enabled\nto _classify_ the elements of his knowledge, there is no way of\nremembering these elements in connection with each other, except by this\nprinciple. If, therefore, we change the order or relative position of\nthe elements or objects which compose the scene, or group, we draw the\nattention of the pupil altogether from the former, and create another\nwhich is entirely new;--in the same way as the transposition of the\nfigures in any sum, forms another of an entirely different amount. The\ndrawing-room, for example, is seen by the children of the family with\nthe fire-place, the cabinet, the sofas, the tables, and other stationary\nornaments, in certain relative positions, and this grouping of those\nobjects is to them in reality all that they know of the room. Any\nmaterial change in shifting these objects to other places in the\napartment, would, to the _parent_, whose judgment is ripened, produce\nfeelings comparatively slight; but, to the younger branches of the\nfamily who group, but cannot as yet classify, it would appear like the\ncomplete annihilation of the former apartment. The different arrangement\nof a few of the articles only, would to them create another, and an\nentirely different room.\n\nThis leads us to observe another circumstance connected with the\noperation of this principle, in the instruction of the young, which is\nthe remarkable fact, that, by making the child familiar with a very few\nprimitive elements, a parent or teacher may communicate an almost\ninfinite variety of groupings, or stories, for cultivating the mind, and\nincreasing the knowledge of his pupil. Hence it is, that hundreds of\nagreeable and useful little histories have been composed for children,\nwith no other machinery than a mamma and her child, and the occasional\nintroduction of a doll or a dog, a cat or a canary bird. To the child,\nthere is in these numerous groupings no appearance of sameness, nor want\nof variety; and although so much circumscribed in their original\nelements, they never fail to amuse and delight.\n\nThe most important circumstance, however, connected with the working of\nthis principle in the education of the young, appears to be the\nnecessity of a previous familiarity with the individual objects, before\nthe child is called upon to group them. If this has been attended to,\nthe grouping of these into any combination will be easy and\npleasant;--but if his attention be called from the group, to examine\nexclusively even but one of its elements, the operation is checked, the\nmind becomes confused, its powers are weakened, and the grouping has\nagain to commence under serious disadvantages.\n\nTo illustrate this point, let us suppose a child introduced to the\nbustle and sports of a common fair. Here he sees thousands both of\nfamiliar and strange objects, all of which are calculated to excite his\nmind to increased attention; and yet the child, while greatly amused, is\nstill perfectly at his ease. There is not the slightest indication of\nhis being incommoded by the numerous objects about him; no confusion of\nideas, no distraction of mind, no mental distress of any kind; but, on\nthe contrary, in the midst of so much to see and to learn, the young\nlooker-on is not only at his ease, but appears to be delighted. The\nreason of this is, that he is not by any external force compelled to\nattend to _all_ that he sees; and Nature within directs him to attend to\nno more than he is able to group, or reiterate in his thoughts. We shall\nendeavour to examine this condition of the child's mind in such\ncircumstances a little more particularly.\n\nThe child in the circumstances supposed, must either be a spectator in\ngeneral, or an examiner in particular; in other words, he must either\nemploy himself with the principle of combination or grouping, or with\nthe principle of individuation,--but he never attempts to employ himself\nwith both at the same time. If he amuses himself as an observer in\ngeneral, he is engaged in grouping objects which are already familiar to\nhim; but while he is so engaged, he never directs his attention to any\none unknown object for the purpose of examining it for the first time by\nitself. He passes over all the minute and unknown objects with a glance,\nand attends only to the grouping or associating of those which are\nalready familiar. Nature induces him, while thus employed, to pass by\nall these minute and unknown objects; because, if he were to do\notherwise, his observation in general would instantly be recalled, and\nhis whole attention would be monopolized by the object which he had\nresolved to examine, to the exclusion of every other for the time. This,\nhowever, is not what he seeks; and he employs himself entirely in the\ngrouping of things which are already known. His mind is left at ease,\nand in the possession of all its powers; he looks only at those things\nwhich please him; and he passes over all the others without effort or\ndifficulty.\n\nBut if the boy shall come to something strange and new, which he is\ndesirous of studying more closely, he immediately becomes an examiner in\nparticular; but, at the same moment, he ceases to be an observer in\ngeneral. The extended business of the fair, and the several groupings of\nwhich it is composed, are lost sight of for the moment;--the principle\nof individuation begins to act, and the operation of the principle of\nassociation, or grouping, is at the same moment brought to a stand. The\ntwo are incompatible, and cannot act together; and therefore Nature\nnever allows the one to interfere with the other.\n\nTo shew the evil effects of overlooking this important law of Nature in\nthe education of a child, we have only to attend to the painful results\nwhich would be the consequence of acting contrary to it, even in the\nvigorous mind of an adult. Let us for this purpose suppose a person of a\npowerful understanding, and a capacious mind, ushered for the first\ntime, and for only five minutes into a crowded apartment in some eastern\ncaravansary, or eastern bazaar, in which every thing to him was new and\nstrange; and let us also suppose that it was imperatively demanded of\nhim, that he should, in that short space of time, make himself\nacquainted with all that was going on, and be able, on his retiring,\nminutely to describe all that he saw. The first moment he entered, and\nthe first strange object that caught his eye, would convince him that\n_the thing was impossible_. If, without such a demand, he had been\nintroduced into such a place, and had seen various groups of strange\npersons differently employed, each engaged in a manner altogether new to\nhim, and the nature of which was wholly unknown, he might look on with\nperfect composure, and considerable amusement, because he could attend,\nlike the boy in the fair, either to the general mass, to isolated\ngroups, or to individual things. He would in that case attend to no more\nthan he was able to understand; and would placidly allow the other parts\nof the scene to pass without any particular attention. But the\nimperative injunction here supposed,--this pressure from without,--this\nartificial and unnatural demand upon him,--entirely alters the case. If\nhe even attempted to make himself master of all the particulars of the\nscene in a circumscribed portion of time, he would find himself\nbewildered and confounded. The very attempt to individualize and to\ngroup so many various objects at the same moment, within such a limited\nperiod, would be enough to prostrate all the powers of his mind. He\nmight perhaps be able to observe the persons and their costume, because\nvarieties of persons and dresses are daily and constantly objects of\nobservation, and are grouped without difficulty; but of their several\nemployments, of which he was previously ignorant, he could know nothing,\nand on retiring, he would neither be able to remember nor to describe\nthem. In such an experiment, it would be found, that the more anxious he\nwas to perfect his task and to answer the demand, in the same proportion\nwould he find himself harassed and distressed, and the powers of his\nmind overstretched and weakened. And if this would be the result of\nconfounding the principles of individuation and grouping in an\nadult,--a person of good understanding, and of vigorous mind,--how much\nmore hurtful must such a task be, when demanded from children or youths\nof ordinary capacity, during their attendance at school!\n\nFew we believe will doubt the general accuracy of the above results in\nthe cases supposed;--but some may perhaps question, whether they really\ndo arise from the interference of these two antagonist principles during\nthe experiment. To shew that this is the real cause of the distress\nfelt, and the weakness and prostration of mind produced during it, we\nhave only to institute another experiment which is exactly parallel. Let\nus suppose the same person, and for the same limited period, ushered\ninto the traveller's room in a well frequented hotel, and let us also\nsuppose, that the very same demand is made imperative, that he shall\nobserve, and again detail when he retires, all that he sees. Let us also\nsuppose, that the number of persons here is equally great, and that\ntheir employments are all equally diversified, but that each is familiar\nto him; and we will at once see that the difficulty of the task is\nreally as nothing. A child could accomplish it. His eye would be able to\ngroup the whole in an instant, without effort, and without fatigue. If\nhe saw one party at supper, another at tea, another group at cards, and\nothers amusing themselves at draughts and backgammon; one minute instead\nof five, would be quite enough to make him master of the whole. On\nretiring, he would be able to tell the employment of every group in the\nroom; and if any of his acquaintances had made part of the number, he\nwould be able to tell who they were, where they were sitting, and how\nthey were occupied. In doing all this he would find no difficulty; and\nyet the knowledge he has received is entirely new, and so extensive,\nthat it would take at least ten fold more time to rehearse it, than it\ntook to acquire it. The entire scene also would be permanently imprinted\nby the imagination upon the memory; and the whole, or any part of it,\ncould be recalled, and reviewed, and rehearsed, at any future period.\nHere then are two cases, precisely similar in their nature, and\nundertaken by the very same person, where the results are widely\ndifferent; and we now see, that the difference arises entirely from the\nprinciple of individuation having prepared the way in the one case,\nwhile it was not allowed to operate in the other.\n\nFrom these circumstances taken together, we perceive, that the grouping\nof objects, when once they are individually familiar, is never a\ndifficult task, but is rather one of gratification and pleasure;--and we\nalso are taught, that the amount of knowledge thus pleasantly\ncommunicated to a child may be most extensive and valuable, while the\nmaterials necessary for the purpose, being comparatively few, may be\npreviously rendered familiar with very little exertion. It is the\nconfounding of these two principles in the communication of knowledge,\nthat makes learning appear so forbidding to the young, and prevents that\ncultivation of the mental powers by their exercises which these would\notherwise infallibly produce. By keeping each in its proper place, a\nchild will soon acquire a thorough knowledge of the few elements\nnecessary for the purpose; and these, when acquired, may be grouped by\nthe teacher into thousands of forms, for extending the knowledge, and\nfor invigorating the mind of his delighted pupil.\n\nThe benevolence and wisdom of this beautiful arrangement in the\neducational process of Nature, are truly wonderful; and in proportion as\nit is so, every deviation from it on our parts will be attended with\ndisappointment and evil. If all our ideas were to be acquired and\nretained by the principle of individuation alone, the memory being\nwithout help or resting place, would soon become so overpowered by their\nnumber, that our knowledge would be greatly circumscribed, and its use\nimpeded. Of the benefits arising from attention to the principle we\nhave many apt illustrations in ordinary life, among which the various\ngroupings of the ten numeral figures into sums of any amount, and the\nforming of so many thousands of words by a different arrangement of the\nletters of the alphabet, are familiar examples. When a child knows the\nten numerals, he requires no more teaching to ascertain the precise\namount of any one number among all the millions which these figures can\nrepresent. The value of such an acquirement can only be appreciated by\nconsidering the labour it would cost a child to gain a knowledge of all\nthese sums individually, and the overwhelming burden laid upon his\nmemory if each of the millions of sums had to be remembered by a\nseparate character. By the knowledge and various groupings of only ten\nsuch characters, the whole of this mighty burden is removed.\n\nIn the art of writing, the same principle is brought into operation with\ncomplete success, by the combination, or various groupings of the\ntwenty-six letters of the common Roman alphabet in the formation of\nwords. The value of this adaptation of the principle will be obvious, if\nwe shall suppose, that a person who is acquainted with all the modern\nEuropean languages, had been compelled to discriminate, and continue to\nremember, a distinct arbitrary mark or character for the many thousands\nof words contained in each. We may not be warranted, perhaps, to say\nthat such a task would be impossible; but that it would be inconceivably\nburdensome can admit of no doubt. We have, indeed, in the writings of\nthe Chinese, although it is but one language, a living monument of the\nevil effects of the neglect of this principle in literature, and the\nunceasing inconveniences which daily arise from that empire continuing\nto persevere in it. There is comparatively but little combination of\ncharacters in their words, and the consequences are remarkable. In that\nextensive empire, the highest rewards, and the chief posts of honour\nand emolument, are held out to those who are most learned, whatever be\ntheir rank or their station; and yet, amidst a population immersed in\npoverty and wretchedness, not one person in a thousand can master even\none of their books; and not one in ten thousand of those who profess to\nread, is able to peruse them all. The reason of this simply is, the\nneglect of this natural principle of grouping letters, or the signs of\nsounds, in their written language. With us, the elements of all the\nwords in all the European languages are only twenty-six; and the child\nwho has once mastered the combination of these, in any one of our books,\nhas the whole of our literature at his command.\n\nThe application of this principle to the elements of general knowledge\nis equally necessary, as its application to written language. The\ndifficulty of remembering the many thousands of unconnected characters\nin Chinese literature, is an exact emblem of what will always be the\ncase with children in respect to their general knowledge, when this\nprinciple of association, or grouping, is neglected. Adults acquire and\nretain a large portion of _their_ knowledge, as we shall afterwards see,\nby the principle of classification and analysis; but _children_ are not\nas yet capable of this; and they must receive their knowledge by the\ngrouping of a few simple elements previously known, or they will not be\nable to receive and retain knowledge at all. The amount of this\nknowledge also, it should be kept in mind, is not at all in proportion\nto the number or the variety of the elements of which that knowledge is\ncomposed. We have formerly alluded to this, and it may be farther\nillustrated by a circumstance of daily occurrence. A seaman when he\nobserves a vessel at a distance knows her class and character in an\ninstant, whether she be a sloop or a brig, a schooner or a ship, and he\nforms an instantaneous idea of all her parts grouped into a whole. His\nmemory, instead of being harassed in remembering the shape, and place,\nand position of each of its several parts, is relieved of the whole by\nthe operation of this principle of association. The whole rigging, about\nwhich his mind is occupied, is composed of only _three_ elements,--ropes,\nand spars, and sails,--with each of which he has long ago made himself\nfamiliar. All the remaining parts of this kind of knowledge are a mere\nmatter of grouping. By previously observing the varied arrangement of the\nspars, and ropes, and sails, on the several masts of the different kinds\nof vessels, he has already grouped them into one whole, and each is\nremembered by itself without effort, and without mistake. They are\nretained, as it were, painted by the imagination upon the memory, and may\nat any after period be recalled and reviewed at pleasure. Hence the sight\nof a vessel in the distance calls up the former pictures to the mind, and\nenables the practised eye of the mariner to decide at once as to the kind\nand character of what he so imperfectly sees.--This helps also to explain\nthe reason why children are so gratified with pictures when presented to\nthe eye; and why they are best pleased when the figures are most simple\nand distinct, and particularly, when the objects grouped in the picture\nhave previously been familiar. Pictures are indeed a pretty close\nimitation of Nature in this part of her work; and they are defective\nchiefly on account of their want of _motion_ and _continuity_.\nThese last are two great and inimitable characteristics in all the\ngroupings painted upon the memory by the imagination.\n\nFrom all this it is obvious, that there is an essential difference\nbetween a child's acquiring the knowledge of things individually, and\nacquiring a knowledge of their several associations. The two must never,\nif possible, be confounded with each other. When they are kept distinct\nin the education of a child, he has an evident pleasure in attending to\neither; but as soon as they are allowed to interfere, and more\nespecially when they are systematically blended together in the same\nexercise, he experiences confusion, irritation, and fatigue. There is no\nnecessity, however, for this ever being the case. All that is required\nis, that the few individual elements that are to be grouped or\nassociated in a lesson, whether they be objects or ideas, shall\npreviously be made familiar to the pupil. These, when once known, may be\nbrought before the mind of the child in any variety of order or form,\nand will be received readily and pleasantly, and will be retained by the\nmemory without confusion, and without effort. By attention to these two\nprinciples, keeping each in its proper place, and bringing each to aid\nand uphold the other in its proper order, it will be found, that a child\nmay be taught more real knowledge in one week, than is often\ncommunicated in other circumstances in the course of a year.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. VII.\n\n_On the Acquisition of Knowledge by the Principle of Analysis, or\nClassification._\n\n\nThere is yet another principle brought into operation by Nature to\nenable her pupils to receive, to retain, and to make use of their\nknowledge. This is the principle of Classification, or Analysis.[6] The\ndifference between this and the former principle described we think is\nsufficiently marked. The principle of Association, or Grouping, is\ncarried on chiefly by means of the imagination, and begins to operate as\nsoon as the mind is capable of imagining any thing; but the principle of\nClassification, or Analysis, is more intimately connected with the\njudgment. The consequence of this is, that it is but very partially\ncalled into action during the early stages of a child's education, and\nis never able to operate with vigour, till the reasoning powers of the\npupil begin to develope themselves.\n\nThe characteristic differences between the two principles, and their\nrespective uses in education, may be illustrated by a circumstance of\nevery-day occurrence. For example, a child who from infancy has been\nbrought up in a house of several apartments, gets acquainted with each\nof the rooms by means of its contents. He has been in the habit of\nseeing the heavy pieces of furniture in each apartment in a certain\nplace and order, and the room and its furniture, therefore, are\nidentified together, and remain painted upon his imagination exactly as\nhe has been in the habit of seeing them. In this case, the articles of\nfurniture in the room are grouped, and not classified; and are\nremembered together, not on account of their nature and uses, but purely\non account of their position, and their relative arrangement in the\nroom. Most of our readers perhaps, will remember the strange feelings\nproduced in their minds during some period of their childhood, when in\nthe house of their infancy, some material alteration of this kind was\neffected in one or more of the rooms. A change in the position of a bed,\nor the abstraction or introduction of a chest of drawers, a wardrobe, or\nother bulky piece of furniture, causes in the mind of the child an\neffect much deeper, and more extensive, than in the adult. The former\npicture of the place never having been observed or contemplated in any\nother aspect, is painted by the imagination, and fixed upon his memory,\nby long continued familiarity. But by this change it is suddenly\ndefaced; and the new group, partaking as it will do of some of the\nelements of the old, produces feelings which are strange and\nunaccountable, and entirely different from those of his parents, who\nhave been in the habit of contemplating the room and its furniture more\nby the exercise of the judgment, than of the imagination; that is, more\nby their uses, than by their appearance.\n\nThe cause of this strangeness of feeling in a child, arises from the\npredominance of the principle of grouping, over that of classification.\nHe has as yet no knowledge of any of the apartments in the house, except\nwhat he has received by grouping their contents. When, therefore, their\narrangement is materially altered, the reasoning powers not being as yet\nable to soften down the effect, the former apartment appears to the\nchild as if it had ceased to exist. He can scarcely believe it to be the\nsame. He never thinks of the _uses_ of the articles in the apartment,\nbut only of their _appearance_;--the first being an act of the\njudgment,--the latter of the imagination. In a similar manner he thinks\nof the kitchen and its furniture, not as a part of the household\neconomy, but only in connection with the articles it contains. The\ndresser, the jack, and the tin covers, are never thought of in\nconnection with their uses; but are identified with the kitchen, merely\nbecause they have always been seen there, and seen together. In like\nmanner, the seats, the tables, and the ornaments of the drawing-room,\nare not connected in the child's mind because they are what are commonly\ncalled \"drawing-room furniture,\" for that would imply a degree of\nreasoning of which he is as yet unacquainted; but they are remembered\ntogether, as they have always been observed in that particular place,\nand are now pictured on the mind, in the position in which they are\nusually beheld. Their particular locality in the room, and their\nrelative position with respect to each other, are of far more importance\nin assisting the memory of the child, than any knowledge which he has as\nyet acquired of their respective uses.\n\nThough a child had in this way gained an exact knowledge of every\napartment in a house, it is obvious that there may not have been, during\nthe whole process, a single act of the understanding. Many of the lower\nanimals are capable of collecting all the knowledge he has received; and\neven infants are, to a certain extent, in the daily habit of acquiring\nit. But the classification of objects, according to their nature and\nuses, is an operation of a perfectly different kind. Hence it is, that a\nchange in the arrangement of the furniture of a room acts so slightly on\nthe feelings of the adult, and so powerfully on the young. In the\nformer, the reasoning powers neutralize the effect produced; to the\nlatter, the change appears a complete revolution.\n\nThis principle of classification, though peculiar to the mature mind, is\nnot restricted to any particular class of men. It is found to be\nuniversal, wherever the reasoning powers are capable of acting. It is no\ndoubt conspicuous in civilized societies, because there it is more\ncultivated; but it is not confined to them. The savage is prompted to\nits exercise under the tuition of Nature. For example, the various\narticles and arts which he employs in hunting, are all regularly\nclassified in his mind, and retained upon his memory, as perfectly\ndistinct from those which he employs in fishing; and neither of these\nclasses of articles are ever confounded with his implements and weapons\nof war. His hooks and lines, are as naturally classified in his mind\nwith his nets and his canoe, as his club or his tomahawk is with his\nother weapons used in battle. It is by this means that Nature aids the\nmemory in the retention of knowledge, and keeps all the successive\naccumulations of the individual at the command of the will. When\ncultivated, as Nature designs that it should be, it forms an extensive\ncabinet in the mind, where every department of knowledge has its\nappropriate place; and which, when once systematically formed, can be\nfurnished at leisure. When a new idea is acquired, it is immediately put\nin its place, and associated with others of the same kind; and when any\nportion of the knowledge which we have accumulated is required, we know\nat once the particular place where it is to be found.\n\nThe benefits of this principle in the above form are extensively felt\nand acted upon in society, even where the principle itself is neither\nobserved nor known; for in the family, in the work shop, and in the\nmanufactory, it is of the last importance. It is upon this principle\nthat a clergyman, for the help of his own memory, as well as for\nassisting the memory of his hearers, arranges the subject of his sermons\nin a classified form;--his text is the root of the classification. This\nhe divides into heads, which form the first branch in this table; and\nthese again he sometimes sub-divides into particulars, which form a\nsecond branch depending on the first, and all proceeding from the\nroot,--the original text. Similar, but more extensive, is the plan\nadopted in the divisions and subdivisions of objects in the Sciences,\nsuch as Botany, Zoology, Chemistry, &c. in all of which the existence of\nthis principle in Nature's educational process is acknowledged and\nexemplified. In these sciences, the efficiency of the principle in\nfacilitating the reception of knowledge, and in assisting the memory in\nretaining it, and in putting it to use, is universally acknowledged.\n\nBut there is another form in which the same principle appears, not so\nobvious indeed, but it is one which is at least equally important in the\neducation of the young. Nature always brings it into operation when a\nteacher, while communicating any series of _connected truths_, such as a\nportion of history or of science, gives more of the details than the\nmind of his pupil can receive, or his memory retain at one time. It may\nbe desirable that the pupil should be made thoroughly acquainted with\nall the minute, as well as with the general circumstances of a history\nor a science; but if so, it must be done, not at once, but by degrees,\nor steps. It is usually done by repeating the course,--\"revising,\" as it\nis called,--and that perhaps more than once;--going over all the\nexercises again and again, till the several parts are perceived and\nremembered in their connection. In these \"revisings,\" the mind forms an\nanalytical table of the subject for itself, consisting of successive\nsteps, formed by the successive courses. By the first course, or\nhearing, it is chiefly the great outlines of the subject that are\nperceived; and these form the first branch of a regular analytical\ntable, which every succeeding course of reading or hearing tends to fill\nup. This will perhaps be best understood by an example.\n\nLet us suppose that a young person sits down to read a history for the\nfirst time, and that he reads it with attention and care. When we\nexamine the state of his mind after he has finished it, we find that,\nindependently of what, by the principle of grouping, he has got in the\nform of episode, he has been able to retain only the great outlines of\nthe history, and no more. He remembers perhaps of whose reign he has\nbeen reading, and the principal events that took place during it; but\nthe intermediate and minor events, as connected with the history, he has\nnot been able to remember. Nothing has been imparted by this first\nreading, but the great landmarks of the narrative. These are destined to\nform the first branch of a regular analytical table, of which the reign\nof the particular monarch is the root. This is the frame-work of the\nwhole history of that period, however numerous the minor circumstances\nmay be; and a second reading will only enlarge his knowledge of the\ncircumstances under each of the heads. In other words, it will enable\nhim to sub-divide them into more minute details or periods, and thus\nform a series of second branches from each. Now it is quite obvious,\nthat when this analysis of the circumstances of that period is once\nformed in the mind, no new event connected with it can ever come to his\nknowledge without being classed with some of the others. It will be\ndisposed of according to the relation which it bears to the parts\nalready existing; and thus the whole texture will be regularly framed,\nand every event will have its proper place, and be readily available for\nfuture use. One part may be filled up and finished before another; but\nthe regular proportions of the whole remain undisturbed. The pupil has,\nby the original outline and its several branches, got a date and a place\nfor every new fact which he may afterwards glean, either in his reading\nor his conversation; and he has a place in which to put it, where it can\neasily be found. When placed there, it is safe in the keeping of the\nmemory, and will always afterwards be at the command of the will.\n\nThe connection of these circumstances, with the principle in education\nwhich we are at present endeavouring to illustrate, may not to some be\nvery apparent. We shall therefore take another example from a\ncircumstance similar to what occurs every day in ordinary life, and in\nwhich the principle, in the hands of Nature, is abundantly conspicuous.\nIn the example we are here to give, she forms the several steps of the\nclassification in a number of hearers by _once_ reading a subject, very\nsimilar to what she does successively in the mind of one individual by\n_repeated_ readings.\n\nLet us then suppose a teacher with two or three hundred pupils,\nincluding every degree of mental capacity, from the youngest child who\nis able to understand, up to his own classical assistant; and that he\nreads to them the history of Joseph as given in the Book of Genesis. Let\nus also suppose, that they all give him their best attention, and that\nthey all hear the narrative for the first time. Such an experiment, let\nit be observed, has its parallel every day, in the church, in the class\nroom, and in the seminary; and similar effects to those we are about to\ndescribe invariably take place in each of them.\n\nWhen the teacher has read and concluded this lengthened exercise, it\nwill be found, that no two individuals among his hearers have acquired\nthe same amount of knowledge. Some will have received and retained more\nof the circumstances, and some less, but no two, strictly speaking, will\nbe alike. Those whose minds were incapable of connecting the several\nparts of the narrative into a whole, will retain what they have received\nin disjointed groups and patches,--episodes, as it were, in the\nnarrative,--without being able very clearly to perceive its general\ndesign. This class, upon whom the principle of association chiefly has\nbeen at work, we leave out, and confine ourselves to the state of\nknowledge possessed by those who are in a greater or less degree capable\nof classification, and of taking some cognisance of the narrative as a\nconnected whole.\n\nAmong this latter class, some will have retained no more than the bare\noutline of the history, interspersed with groupings, as in the younger\nchildren. They will remember little more than that Joseph was at first a\nboy in his father's house;--that he was afterwards a slave, and in\nprison;--and at last, a great man and a governor. Here the _whole\nhistory_ is divided into three distinct heads, or eras,--the first\nbranch of an analytical table of the whole story, from one or other of\nwhich all the other particulars, of whatever kind, must of necessity\ntake their rise, and branch off in their natural order. An advanced\nclass of the auditors will have retained some of the more obvious\ncircumstances connected with _each of these three great divisions_, as\nwell as the divisions themselves. They will not only remember that\nJoseph was a boy in his father's house, but they will also be able to\nremember the more prominent subdivisions of the narrative regarding him\nwhile there; such as his father's partiality, his dreams, and his\nbrothers' hatred. The second great division will be recollected as\nincluding the particulars of his being sold, his serving in Potiphar's\nhouse, and his conduct in prison; and the third division will be\nremembered as containing his appearance before Pharoah, his laying up\ncorn, his conduct to his brothers, and his reception of his father and\nfamily. These subdivisions, it will at once be perceived, form the\n_second branch_ of a regular analytical table, each of which has sprung\nfrom, and is intimately connected with, some one or other of the three\ngreat divisions forming the first branch, of which the \"History of\nJoseph\" is the comprehensive root.\n\nIn like manner, a third class of the pupils, whose minds have been\nbetter cultivated, and whose memories are more retentive, will not only\nremember all this, but they will also remember, in connection with each\nof these subdivisions, many of the more specific events included in, or\nspringing from them, and which carry forward this regular analytical\ntable one step farther. As for example, under the subdivision entitled\n\"Joseph's conduct to his brethren,\" they will remember the \"detention of\nSimeon,\"--\"the feast in the palace,\"--\"the scene of the cup in the\nsack,\" and \"Joseph's making himself known.\" Even these again might be\nsubdivided into their more minute circumstances, as a fourth, or even a\nfifth branch, if necessary, all of which might be exactly delineated\nupon paper, as a regular analytical table of the history of Joseph.\n\nHere, then, we have an example of Nature herself dividing an audience\ninto different classes, and that by one and the same operation,--by one\nreading,--forming in each class part of a regular analytical table of\nthe whole history, each class being one step in advance of the other.\nThe first has the foundation of the whole fabric broadly and solidly\nlaid; and it is worthy of remark, that there is not one of the ideas\nacquired by the most talented of the hearers, that is not strictly and\nregularly derived from some one or other of the three general divisions\npossessed by the first and the least advanced; and any one of the ideas\nmay be regularly traced back through the several divisions to the root\nitself. The additional facts possessed by the second class, are nothing\nmore than a more full developement of the circumstances remembered by\nthe first; and those obtained by the third, are but a more extensive\ndevelopement of the facts remembered by the second.\n\nThis being the state of the several classes into which Nature divides\nevery audience, it is of importance to trace the means which she employs\nfor the purpose of _advancing_ each, and of ultimately completing the\nanalysis; or, in other words, perfecting the knowledge of the narrative,\nin each individual mind. This is equally beautiful, and equally simple.\nIt is, if we may be allowed the expression, by a regular system of\nbuilding. The foundation being laid, and the frame-work of the whole\nbeing erected, in the knowledge of the great general outline, confusion\nis ever after completely prevented. Every piece of information connected\nwith the history, which may be afterwards received, has a specific place\nprovided for it. It must belong to some one or other of the three great\ndivisions; and it is there inserted as a part of the general building.\nIt is now remembered in its connection, till all the circumstances,--the\nwhole of the information,--gradually, and perhaps distantly received,\ncomplete the narrative.\n\nTo follow out this plan of Nature regularly, as in a school education,\nthe method must be exceedingly obvious; for if the first class, by once\nhearing the chapters read, have received merely the outline,--the\nframe-work of the narrative,--it must be obvious, that when this has by\nreflection become familiar, a second reading would enable them to fill\nup much of this outline, by which they would be on a par with the\nsecond. Another reading would, in like manner, add to the second, and\nform a third; and so forth of all the others. Each reading would add\nmore and more to the knowledge of the pupil; and yet, every idea\ncommunicated would be nothing more than a fuller developement of the\noriginal outline,--the frame-work,--the skeleton of the story which he\nhad acquired by the first reading. By successive readings, therefore,\nthe first class will take the place of the second, the second of the\nthird, and so on to the end. This is Nature's uniform method of\nperfecting her pupils in any branch of _connected_ knowledge;--a method\nwhich, therefore, it should be the object of the Educationist to\nunderstand, and closely to imitate.\n\nFrom the cases which we have in this chapter supposed as examples, there\nare several important practical inferences to be derived, to which we\nshall here very briefly advert.\n\nIn the first place, we are led to infer, from all the cases brought into\nnotice, that every kind of external force, or precipitation in\neducation, is abhorrent to Nature. In each of the cases supposed, we\nhave a remarkable exhibition of the calm serenity of Nature's operations\nin the education of the young. For instance, in the last case supposed,\nthe children all listened,--they all heard the same words,--the mental\nfood was the same to each, however diversified their abilities might be;\nand it was indiscriminately offered in the same form to all, although\nall were not equally prepared to receive and digest it. The results\naccordingly were, in fact, as various as the number of the persons\npresent. And yet, notwithstanding of all this, there was no hurry, no\nconfusion, no attempt to stretch the mind beyond its strength. Each\nindividual, according to his capacity, laid hold of as much as his mind\ncould receive, and silently abandoned the remainder.--But if there had\nbeen any external urgency or force employed, to compel the child to\naccomplish more than his mind was capable of, this serenity and\ncomposure would have been destroyed; irritation, and confusion, and\nmental weakness, would have been the consequence; and altogether,\nmatters would not have been made better, but worse, by the attempt.\n\nAnother inference, which we think may legitimately be drawn from the\nabove examples, is this, that although Nature prompts the child silently\nto throw off or reject that which the mind at the time cannot receive,\nyet it would be better for the child if no more had been pressed upon\nhim than he was capable of receiving. The very rejection of any portion\nof the mental food presented for acceptance, must in some measure tend\nto dissipate the mind, and exhaust its strength. This we think is\ndemonstrated by the fact, that the child had to listen for _an hour_,\nand yet retained on his memory no more than experience shews us could\nhave been much more successfully communicated in _five minutes_.\n\nThis leads us to another remark, almost equally important; which is,\nthat the want of classification among the children, will not only hurt\nthem, but tend to waste the time, and unnecessarily to exhaust the\nstrength of the teacher. The teacher's success with any one child, is\nnot to be estimated by the pains he takes, or the extent of his labour,\nbut by the amount of knowledge actually retained by the child. To employ\nan hour's labour, therefore, to communicate that knowledge which could\nwith much better effect be given in five minutes, is both unreasonable\nand improper; and every one who will for a moment think on the subject\nmust see, that a lesson, which in that short space of time conveyed the\nwhole of the knowledge that the pupils had been able to pick up during\nthe hour's exercise, would leave the teacher eleven-twelfths of his time\nto benefit the other classes. The nurseryman follows this plan with his\ntrees, and with evident success, both in saving time, and room, and\nlabour. When he sows his acorns, one square yard will contain more\nplants than will ultimately occupy an acre. It is only as they increase\nin growth, that they are thinned out and transplanted; and such should\nbe the case in communicating knowledge to children. To attempt to teach\nthe whole history at once, is like sowing the whole acre with acorns,\nand thinning them out during a quarter of a century. The loss of seed in\nthis case is the least of the evils; for the ground would be robbed of\nits strength, nine-tenths of it would be rendered unnecessarily useless\nduring a large portion of the time; and much of the anxiety, and care,\nand labour of the nurseryman would be thrown away. Ultimately he would\nfind, that of the many thousands of oaks he had sowed, he had been able\nto rear no more _than the acre could carry_. By following out this\nprinciple in education, and giving the child as much as he can receive,\nand no more, of the whole series of truths to be communicated, his mind,\nat the close of the exercise, will be much more vigorous, the ideas\nreceived will be much better understood, more firmly rivetted upon the\nmemory, and much more at the command of the will, while the quantity of\nknowledge really communicated, is at least equal in amount.--The only\nthing indeed that renders a contrary plan of procedure even tolerable to\na child, is the wise provision of Nature, by which she induces him to\nthrow off, with some degree of ease, the superfluous matter; but had the\nreception and retention of the whole by each child been demanded by the\nteacher, the very attempt to do so on the part of the pupil, would not\nonly have been irritating and burdensome, but it would have been\nextremely hurtful to the mind, by stretching its powers beyond its\nstrength.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[6] Note E.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. VIII.\n\n_On Nature's Methods of Teaching her Pupils to make use of their\nKnowledge._\n\n\nWe come now to another operation of Nature with the young, to which she\nappears to attach more importance than she does to any of her previous\neducational processes, and to which she obviously intends that a more\nthan ordinary attention should be paid on our parts. This is the\ntraining of her pupils to make use of their knowledge, and to apply the\ninformation they possess to guide them in the common affairs of life.\nThis is obviously the great end which she has all along had in view; and\nto which the cultivation of the mind, and the acquisition of knowledge\nare merely preparatives. We shall first direct attention to a few of the\nindications of this principle as they actually appear in ordinary life;\nand then we shall endeavour to point out some of the laws by which she\nappears to regulate them.\n\nIn the early periods of infancy we can plainly distinguish between\ncertain actions which depend upon _instinct_, and which are performed by\nthe infant perfectly and at once, without experience, and without\nteaching;--and others of which the infant at first appears to be\nincapable, but which it gradually _acquires_ by experience, or more\ncorrectly, which it _learns_ by an application of the knowledge which it\nis daily realizing. Among the former, or instinctive class, we may rank\nthe acts of sucking, swallowing, and crying, which are purely acts of\ninstinct; while among the numerous class belonging to the latter, we\ninclude all those actions which are progressively improved, and which\nare really the result of experience, derived from the application of\ntheir acquired knowledge. As an example of these, we may instance the\nacts of winking with the eyelids on the approach of an object to the\neye; the avoiding of a blow; the rejection of what is bitter or\nunpalatable; the efforts made to possess that which has been found\npleasant; and the shunning of those acts for which it has been reproved\nor punished. All these, and thousands of similar acts, are really the\nresult of a _direct application of previous knowledge_, and which,\nwithout the possession of that knowledge, never are, nor could be\nperformed.\n\nMankind in infancy being, in the intention of Nature, placed under the\ncare of tender and intelligent parents are not provided with many\ninstinctive faculties. Their physical welfare is at first left\naltogether to the care of the nurse; but, from a very early period of\nconsciousness, they intellectually become the pupils of Nature. Almost\nall their actions are the results of experience;--of knowledge acquired,\nand knowledge applied. Their attainments at the beginning are no doubt\nfew;--but, from the first, they are well marked, and go on with\nincreasing rapidity. The acquisition of knowledge by them, and\nespecially the application of it, are evident to the most cursory\nobserver. For example, we see a child cling to its keeper, and refuse to\ngo to a stranger;--we see it when hungry stretch out its arms, and cry\nto get to its nurse;--and when it has fallen in its efforts to walk, it\nwill not for some time attempt it again. These, and many more which will\noccur to the reader, are the results of Nature's teaching;--her\nsuggestions to her pupil for the right application of its knowledge. The\nchild has been taught from experience that it is safe and comfortable\nwith its keeper, and it applies this knowledge by refusing to leave her.\nIt has learned how, and by whom, its hunger is to be satisfied; and it\napplies this knowledge by seeking to be with its nurse. It has learned\nby experience, that the attempt to walk is dangerous; and it applies\nthat knowledge by avoiding the danger. Here the child is wholly as yet\nin the hands of Nature; and it is quite evident, that her design in\nfirst enabling the pupil to acquire those portions of knowledge, was,\nthat she might induce him to apply them for his safety and comfort. No\ndoubt the mental powers of the child were cultivated and disciplined by\nthe acquisition of the knowledge, and still more by its application; but\nthis disciplining of the mind, and accumulation of knowledge, were\nevidently a secondary object, and not the primary one. Health and\ncheerfulness are gained by tilling the ground; yet the ground is not\ntilled for the purpose of securing health and cheerfulness. It is for\nthe produce of the harvest. So, in like manner, the cultivation of the\nchild's mind, and the reception of the seeds of knowledge, are merely\nmeans employed for a further end,--the harvest of comfort and usefulness\nto be afterwards reaped. From all this we are directly led to the\nconclusion, that it is the intention of Nature, that all the knowledge\nacquired should be put to use; and therefore, that nothing should be\ntaught the young, in the first place at least, except that which is\nreally useful; while the proper use of all that they learn should be\ndiligently pointed out.\n\nIt may appear to some, that this truth is so plain and obvious, as to\nrequire no further illustration or enforcement.--We sincerely wish that\nit were so. But long experience justifies us in being sceptical on the\npoint. And as the establishment of this principle, and a thorough\nknowledge of its working, are perhaps of more value than any other truth\nin the whole range of educational science, we shall offer a few remarks\non its validity and importance, before proceeding to examine the means\nby which Nature carries it into operation.\n\nThat knowledge, when once acquired, is intended by Nature to be put to\nuse, is proved negatively by the well known fact, that almost all our\n_mental_ acquirements, when not used, are soon lost. They gradually fade\nfrom the mind, and are at last blotted from the memory. Hence the\ndisappearance in after life of all the academical and collegiate\nacquirements of those youths who move in a sphere where their use is not\nrequired; and of those portions of the early attainments of even\nprofessional men, which are not necessary for their particular pursuits.\nBy the universal operation of this principle, Nature gives fair warning\nof the folly of useless learning; and plainly indicates, that whenever\nthe benefits which she confers are not put to use as she designed, they\nwill gradually, but most certainly, be withdrawn.\n\nThe same fact is also proved positively:--For we find, that the proper\nuse of any portion of our knowledge, is invariably rewarded by its\nbecoming still more familiar. The student who puts a principle in\nchemistry to the test of experiment, will understand it better, remember\nit longer, and be able to apply it to useful purposes, much more readily\nthan his companion who merely reflects upon it. And of two individuals,\nwho by a lecture have been taught the duty and the delights of mercy,\nthat one will learn it best, and remember it longest, who, immediately\non hearing it, is prompted to relieve a fellow creature from distress,\nor to save a family from ruin.\n\nThis principle of making every thing conduce to the promotion of\npractical good, seems to pervade all the works of God; and there is no\ndepartment in Nature, mineral, vegetable, or animal, that does not\nafford proofs of its existence. Every thing that the Almighty has formed\nis practically useful; and is arranged in such a manner as to give the\nclearest indications, that it was designed to be turned to some useful\npurpose by man. The annual and diurnal motions of the earth in its\norbit; the obliquity of its axis; the inequality of its surface, and the\ndisposition and disruption of its strata, all shew the most consummate\nwisdom, and are severally a call to intelligent man to turn them to use.\nOn these, and on every other department of Nature's works, there is\nwritten in legible characters, that it is the _use_ of knowledge, and\nnot the _possession_ of it merely, that is recommended. This she teaches\nby every operation of her hand, both directly, and by analogy. For could\nwe suppose that the vegetable creation were capable of receiving\nknowledge, we might conclude from various facts, that this principle was\nnot confined to the animal kingdom alone, but that it regulated the\noperations of all organic existences. The living vegetable has at least\nthe appearance of acting under its influence; for, as if it knew that\nlight was necessary for its health and growth, it invariably turns\ntowards the light;--as if it knew that certain kinds of decayed matter\nwere better fitted for its nourishment than others, it pushes out new\nfibrous roots in the direction of the spot where they are to be\nfound;--and even when isolated on a rock, or a wall, at a distance from\nsufficient soil and moisture, it husbands its scanty means, and sends\ndown from its elevation an extra root to the ground, to collect\nadditional nourishment where it is to be had.\n\nIn every department of animal life, also, the principle appears to\nexist, and exhibits itself in the conduct of all free agents, from the\ninsect to the elephant. The dog that has been kindly treated in a\nparticular house, seldom fails to visit it again; and when he is\nviolently driven from another, the same principle indisposes him to\nreturn. It is upon record, that a surgeon who had bandaged the broken\nleg of a dog, was afterwards visited by his patient, who brought\nanother, requiring a similar operation. The horse, in like manner, is\nproverbially sagacious in the application of his knowledge.\nMismanagement in a groom in one instance, may create a \"vice,\" which may\nlessen his value during life. This \"vice,\" which is confirmed by\npractice, is nothing more than the repeated application of his\nknowledge. Such a \"vice,\" accordingly, is best cured by avoiding the\ncircumstances which originally gave rise to it, till it dies from his\nmemory. Many other instances of a similar kind in the lower animals will\nreadily occur to the reader, all of which lead directly to the\nconclusion, that, even in the brute creation, Nature not only prompts\nthem to collect information from what happens around them, and to act in\ncorrespondence to its indications; but that, in fact, all the knowledge\nthey receive, or are capable of acquiring above instinct, is retained or\nlost, exactly in proportion as it is, or is not, put to use.\n\nIn the case of rational creatures, this great design of Nature is still\nmore distinctly marked,--is intended for more important purposes,--and\nis carried on by a separate system of internal machinery, part of which\nat least is peculiar to man. This system of mental machinery consists of\ntwo kinds, one of which may, we think, with propriety get the popular\nname of the \"Animal, or Common Sense,\" and the other has already\nreceived the appropriate name of \"The Moral Sense,\" or conscience. To\nNature's method of using these principles, for prompting and directing\nus in the use of our knowledge, we shall now shortly advert.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. IX.\n\n_On Nature's Methods of Applying Knowledge by the Principle of the\nAnimal, or Common Sense._\n\n\nWhen an infant, by laying hold of a hot tea-pot burns its hand, it\nrefuses to touch it again;--when a child has been frightened from a park\nor field, he will not willingly enter it a second time;--and when any\nthing is thrown in the direction of the head, we instantly stoop, or\nbend to one side, to evade it. These are instances of the application of\nknowledge, by the principle of \"common sense,\" which do not belong to\ninstinct; and, in many cases at least, anticipate the exercise of\nreason. Our object at present, however, is with the principle, and not\nwith its name.\n\nWhen we analyze these operations, together with their causes, we find,\nthat there are certain portions of knowledge daily and hourly acquired\nby the senses, which become so interwoven with our sentiments and\nfeelings, that they usually remain unobserved, till some special\noccasion calls for their application. Now the principle we speak of, if\nit indeed be a separate principle, is employed by Nature to apply this\nlatent knowledge, and to induce her pupil instantly, and without\nwaiting for the decisions of reason, to perform certain actions, or to\npursue a certain line of conduct, which we almost instinctively feel to\nbe useful and safe. No sane child, for example, will deliberately stand\nin the way of a horse or a carriage at full speed,--or walk over a\nprecipice,--or take burning coals from the fire with his fingers; were\nhe to do so, we would not dignify the act so far as to say that it was\n\"unreasonable,\" for that would be too mild an epithet,--but we would\npronounce it at once to be \"contrary to common sense.\"\n\nIn like manner, were an adult to bemire himself in crossing a ditch,\ninstead of making use of the stepping-stones placed there for the\npurpose; or if he were to stand till he were drenched with a\nthunder-shower, instead of taking shelter for the time in the\nneighbouring shed, we would not say that it was \"unreasonable,\" but that\nit was \"contrary to common sense.\" In short, whenever any thing is done\nwhich universal experience shews to be hurtful _to ourselves_, (not to\nothers) it is invariably denominated an act \"contrary to common sense;\"\nbut whenever it involves hurt _to others_, it takes another character,\nand becomes a breach of the \"moral sense.\"\n\nIt is not our design, however, to come out of our way at present, to\nadapt the name to the principle in Nature of which we are here speaking,\nand far less shall we attempt to mould the principle into a form\nsuitable to the name. Our business is with the principle itself, as it\nappears in ourselves and others; and we use the term \"common sense,\"\nmerely because at present we cannot find one more appropriate, or which\nwould suit our purpose so well. If this name shall be found proper for\nit, it is well;--but if not, we leave it to others to provide a better.\n\nWe have said, that Nature prompts to the use of knowledge by means of\ntwo distinct principles; the one, which may be denominated the \"Animal,\"\nor \"Common Sense,\" refers to actions of which _we ourselves_ are the\nsubjects; and the other, known by the term of the \"Moral Sense,\" or\nconscience, refers to actions of which _others_ are the subjects. It is\nthe former of these that we are at present to investigate.\n\nWe must all have observed the promptness with which we avoid any sudden\ndanger, or inconvenience, before we have time to reason about the\nmatter. As, for example, when we stumble, we instantly put forth the\nproper foot to prevent our fall. This cannot be said to be an act of the\nreasoning powers, because they have not had time to operate; and it is\nequally clear that it is not an act of instinct, because infants, who\nhave only begun to walk have not the capacity of doing it. It is\nevidently another principle which, availing itself of the knowledge\nwhich the person has previously acquired by experience, now uses it\nspecially for the occasion.\n\nThat this application of our knowledge arises neither from instinct nor\nfrom reason, will be obvious from many circumstances of ordinary\noccurrence.--For example, when any object approaches the eye we\ninstantly shut it;--when any missile is thrown at us, we instantly turn\nthe head aside to evade it;--or when in walking something destroys our\nequilibrium and we stumble, we instantly bend the body in the proper\ndirection, and to the precise point, necessary to restore our balance,\nand to prevent our fall.--Now it is obvious, that all these\ncontingencies are provided for by one and the same principle, whatever\nthat principle may be; and that they are acts which do not depend upon\ninstinct, properly so called, is proved from the circumstance, that\ninfants, before they are taught by experience that the eye is so tender,\nand even adults who have but newly acquired the use of their sight,\nneither shut their eyes at the approach of objects, nor turn away their\nheads when a missile is thrown at them.--And we think it is equally\nclear, that it cannot be the result of reasoning, in the sense in which\nwe generally understand that term, because the mind has no time for\nconsideration, far less for reasoning, during the short moment that\noccurs between the cause and the effect.\n\nThe object which we have chiefly in view at present is, to point out the\ngreat end designed by Nature in all these actions, which is simply _the\napplication of knowledge_. There is the knowledge that objects entering\nthe eye will give pain, and that the shutting of the eye will defend it.\nThis we have shown is not an instinctive operation, but must have been\nacquired by experience;--and it is this principle, into the nature of\nwhich we are now enquiring, that prompted the child in the special case\nto apply its knowledge by shutting the eye. In like manner, in the case\nof the missile thrown at the head, there is a previous knowledge of the\neffect which it will produce, and a knowledge also of the means by which\nit is to be avoided,--and it is avoided;--and in the case of losing the\nequilibrium, there is nothing more than the application of a latent\nknowledge, now suddenly brought into use on the spur of the moment, that\nby the movement of the foot the body will be supported. The principle,\nwhatever it be, which instigates children and adults to do all this, is\nthe subject of our present enquiry, and which for the present we have\ndenominated the \"Animal,\" or \"Common sense.\" We shall therefore a little\nmore particularly attend to its various indications.\n\nThe operation of this principle in the infant has already been pointed\nout. When it has learned by experience that its nurse is kind, it\nstretches forth its little hands, and desires to be with the\nnurse;--when in its first attempt at walking it experiences a fall, it\napplies this knowledge, by refusing again for some time to walk;--and\nwhen it burns its finger at the flame of the candle, the application of\nthat knowledge induces it ever after to avoid both fire and flame.\n\nIn after life the same principle continues to operate both\nindependently of reason, and in conjunction with it. In encountering the\nair of a cold night, we, without reasoning on the matter, wrap ourselves\ncloser in our cloak. When we turn a corner, and meet a sharp frosty\nwind, we lower the head to protect the uncovered face. When we emerge\nfrom the house, and perceive that the dulness of the day indicates rain,\nwe almost instinctively return for a cloak or an umbrella. And the\nmariner at sunset, when he sees an opening in the sky indicating a\nstorm, immediately takes in sail, and makes all snug for the night. In\nall these cases we perceive a principle within us, frequently operating\nalong with reason, but sometimes also without it, which prompts us to\napply our previous knowledge for our present comfort and advantage.[7]\nThe constant operation of such a principle in our nature, no matter by\nwhat name it is called, leads us, as plainly as analogy and natural\nphenomena can do, to conclude, that it ought to be carefully studied,\nand assiduously cultivated in the young, during the period usually\nassigned for their education.\n\nWhen we carefully trace the operation of this principle in common life,\nit appears that, in fact, the greater portion of our physical comforts\ndepends upon it. \"Experience\" is but another name for it. We find some\nsubstances warmer, softer, harder, or more workable than others, and we\napply this knowledge by substituting one for another. The savage finds\nthe wigwam more convenient, or more easily come at, than a cave or a\ncrevice in a rock, and he builds a wigwam;--he finds a hut more durable\nthan a wigwam, and he substitutes a hut;--he at last finds a cottage\nstill more convenient, and he advances in his desires and his abilities\nby his former experience, and he builds one.--In every advance, however,\nit is the application of his previous knowledge that increases his\ncomforts, and tends to perpetuate them; and accordingly, as a proper\nand a general application of the \"moral sense,\" leads directly to\nnational _virtue_; so the proper and general application of this\nprinciple of \"common sense\" goes to promote every kind of personal and\nfamily _comfort_, as well as national _prosperity_. Its ramifications\npierce through every design and action of industry and genius. It is the\nexercise of this principle alone which, in the worldly sense,\ndistinguishes the wise man from the fool; and which gives all the\nsuperiority which is possessed by a civilized, over a savage community.\nIt is the chief guardian of our safety, and the parent of every personal\nand domestic comfort. It is, in short, familiarity with its exercise\nthat imparts confidence to the philosopher, decision to the legislator,\ndexterity to the artificer, and perfection to the artist. In each case\nit is the accumulation of knowledge _put to use_, which makes the\ndistinction between one man and another; and it is by the aggregation of\nsuch men that a nation becomes prosperous. It must never therefore be\nforgotten, that it is not the possession of knowledge, but the use which\nwe make of it, that confers distinction. For no truism is more\nincontrovertible than this, that knowledge which we cannot or do not\nuse, is really useless.\n\nThere is no wonder then that Nature should be at some pains in training\nher pupils to an exercise on which so much of their happiness and safety\ndepends; and it is of corresponding importance, that we should\ninvestigate the means, and the mode by which she usually accomplishes\nher end. If we can successfully attain this knowledge, we may be enabled\nto pursue a similar course in the training of the young, and with\ndecided advantage.\n\nWhen we take any one of the numerous examples of the working of this\nprinciple in the adult, and carefully analyze it, we can detect three\ndistinct stages in the operation, before the effect is produced. The\n_first_ is the knowledge of some useful truth, present to the mind, and\nat the command of the will;--there is, _secondly_, an inference drawn\nfrom that truth, or portion of our knowledge, or the impression of an\ninference which was formerly drawn from it, and which, as we have seen\nin the infant, may remain long after the circumstance from which the\nlesson was derived has been forgotten;--and there is, _thirdly_, a\nspecial application of that inference or impression to our present\ncircumstances. For example, in the case of the person leaving the house,\nand suddenly returning to provide himself with an umbrella, there is\nfirst the knowledge of a fact, that \"the sky is lowering;\" then there is\nan inference drawn from this fact, that \"there will most probably be\nrain;\" but the comfort--the whole benefit arising from this knowledge,\nand from this reasoning upon it,--depends on the third stage of the\noperation, which is therefore the most important of all, namely, the\napplication of the inference, or lesson, to his present circumstances. A\nmere knowledge of the fact that the sky lowered, would have remained a\nbarren and a useless truth in the mind, unless he had proceeded to draw\nthe proper inference from it; and the inference itself, after it was\ndrawn, would have done him no good, but must rather have added to his\nuneasiness, had he not proceeded to the third step of the operation, and\napplied the whole to the regulation of his conduct, in providing himself\nwith an umbrella or a cloak.\n\nIn like manner, in the supposed case of the mariner expecting a storm,\nthere was first the knowledge of the fact, that the \"sky was in a\ncertain state.\" Now of this knowledge every person on board might have\nbeen in possession as well as the master himself, without the slightest\nbenefit accruing to themselves or the ship, unless they had been\ntrained, or enabled to draw the proper inference or lesson from it. The\nmere possession of the knowledge, therefore, would have been of no\nadvantage. But the practised eye, and the previous experience of the\nmaster, enabled him to draw the inference, that \"there will be a\nstorm.\" Even this, however, would not have saved the ship and crew,\nwithout the third, and the most important step of all,--the application\nof that inference or lesson to their present condition. It was that\nwhich induced him to give the necessary orders to prepare for the storm,\nand thus to secure the safety both of the ship and of all on board.\n\nAgain, in the case of the infant burning its finger, there appears to be\nsomething like a similar process, which we can trace much better than\nthe child itself. The child puts its finger to the flame of the candle,\nand it feels pain; from which it learns, for the first time, that flame\nburns. This is the knowledge which it has acquired. But there is also an\ninference drawn from that knowledge, not by reasoning, but by the\noperation of the principle under consideration, an inference of which it\nis probable the child itself at the time is unconscious, but the\nexistence of which is sufficiently proved by its uniform conduct\nafterwards. By the operation of this principle in the child's mind,\nbefore he can reason, he has inferred, that if he shall again touch\nflame, he will again feel pain. He will very probably forget the\nparticular circumstance in which his finger was burned, but the\ninference then drawn,--the impression made upon the mind, and which\ncorresponds to an inference,--still remains, and is made the chief\ninstrument which Nature employs in this most important part of all her\nvaluable educational processes. The child accordingly is found ever\nafter, not only preserving the particular finger that was burned, but\nall its fingers and members, from a burning candle; and not from a\ncandle only, but from fire and flame of every kind.\n\nThis appears to be the natural order of that process of which we are\nhere speaking; and before leaving it, there are two or three\ncircumstances connected with it, that we ought not to omit noticing,\nmore particularly, because the whole of them appear to hold out\nadditional evidence of the little value which Nature attaches to\nknowledge for its own sake, and of her decided approval of its\nacquisition, only, or at least chiefly, when it is reduced to practice.\n\nThe first of these circumstances is, that Nature, in all cases, teaches\npopularly--not philosophically; that is, she does not refuse to teach\none part of a connected series of phenomena, because the whole is not\nyet perceived; nor does she neglect the use of the legitimate\napplication of an ascertained truth, because the principle or law by\nwhich it acts remains as yet undiscovered. Her object evidently is, the\nattainment of the most _useful_ part of the knowledge presented to her\npupil, and the _practical use_ of that part; leaving the investigation\nof the other parts to the will or convenience of the person afterwards.\nThe infant accordingly made use of its knowledge, although it knew\nnothing about the nature of flame; and the man and the mariner would\nhave done as they did, although they had known nothing at all about the\nscience of meteorology.\n\nThe second remark which we would here make is, that Nature, in most\ncases, appears to put much more value on the inferences, or lessons,\ndrawn from the knowledge we have acquired, than she does upon the\nknowledge itself. For example, in the case of the infant burning its\nfinger, the circumstance itself will soon be forgotten; but the\ninference, or the impression acquired by its means, will remain. And\nwhen at any subsequent period it avoids fire or flame, its mind is not\nso much occupied by the abstract truth that flame will burn, as by the\nlesson learned from that truth, that it should not meddle with it. This\ninference it now practically applies to its present situation. That the\nabstract truth,--the knowledge originally derived from the fact,--is\nincluded in the lesson, may be quite true; but what we wish at present\nmore particularly to point out is, that _it is seldom adverted to by the\ninfant_. The inference,--the lesson which the truth suggested,--is all\nthat the child thought of. That alone is the fabric which Nature has\nbeen employed in rearing; and the original truth has been used merely as\nscaffolding for the purpose. The edifice itself, accordingly, having\nbeen completed, the scaffolding is allowed to fall, as having answered\nits design.\n\nThe same conclusion may be come to, by attending to the circumstances\nconnected with the operation of the principle in adults.--The person who\nreturned for his great-coat or umbrella after having drawn the inference\nfrom the appearance of the sky, thought only of the coming shower; and\nwe could easily suppose a case, where the original indication of the sky\nmight be totally forgotten, while the full impression that it would rain\nmight still continue. In like manner, the mariner, in the bustle of\npreparation, thinks only of the dreaded storm, while the original\ncircumstance,--the knowledge from which the inference was drawn,--is now\nunheeded, or entirely forgotten.\n\nThe other circumstance to which we would here solicit attention, as\nproving the same thing, is one to which we formerly alluded. It is the\nremarkable fact, that knowledge, of whatever kind, when it is practised,\nbecomes more and more familiar and useful; while that which is not acted\nupon, is soon blotted from the memory and lost. Writing, arithmetic, and\nspelling, not to speak of grammar, geography, and history, when not\nexercised in after life, are frequently found of no avail, even at times\nwhen they are specially required.--Why is this? They were once known.\nThe knowledge was communicated at a time when the mind and memory were\nbest fitted for receiving and retaining them. But Nature in this, as in\nevery other instance, has been true to herself; and the knowledge which\nis not used has been blighted, and at last removed from the memory and\nlost.\n\nFrom all these circumstances taken together, we are led to conclude,\nthat Nature never conveys knowledge without intending it to be\nused;--that by a principle in our constitution, which we have\ndenominated \"common sense,\" Nature prompts even infants to employ their\nknowledge for their own special benefit;--that this principle continues\ninvariably to act, till it is assisted or superseded by reason;--and\nthat the process consists in drawing inferences, or lessons, from known\nfacts, and in practically applying them to present circumstances. All\nwhich points the Educationist directly to the conclusion, that the\ncommunication of knowledge is one of the _means_, but not the _end_, of\neducation;--that the lessons derived from the knowledge communicated,\nare infinitely more valuable than the knowledge itself;--and that the\ngreat design of education is, and ought to be, to train the young to\nknow how to use, and to put to use, not only the knowledge communicated\nat school, but all the knowledge which they may acquire in their future\njourney through life.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[7] Note F.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. X.\n\n_On Nature's Method of applying Knowledge by means of the Moral Sense,\nor Conscience._\n\n\nNature enables her pupils to apply knowledge by means of the moral\nsense, or conscience, as well as by the animal, or common sense. There\nis however this great difference in the manner in which they\noperate,--that whereas every infringement of the natural or physical\nlaws which regulate the application of knowledge by what we have called\nthe common sense, is invariably followed by its proper punishment,--the\nconsequences of infringing the laws which regulate the moral sense, are\nneither so immediate, nor at the time so apparent. The child knows, that\nby putting his finger to the candle, burning and pain will instantly\nfollow;--but the evil consequences of purloining sweet-meats, or telling\na lie to avoid punishment, are not so obvious. Does Nature then put less\nvalue on moral integrity, than on worldly prudence? Certainly not. But\nin the latter case she deals with man more as a physical and\nintellectual being; and in the former, as a moral, a responsible, and an\nimmortal being. The lower animals to a great extent participate with us\nin the benefits arising from attention to the laws which govern physical\nenjoyments; but they know nothing of a moral sense, which is peculiar to\nintelligent and accountable creatures. From this we may safely conclude,\nthat the application of knowledge by means of the moral sense, or\nconscience, is of infinitely more importance to man than the application\nof his knowledge by the animal, or common sense.\n\nFor the purpose of arriving at accurate conclusions on this subject, in\nreference to education and the application of knowledge, we shall\nendeavour to investigate a few of the phenomena connected with the moral\nsense, as these are exhibited in the young and in adults; and shall, in\ndoing so, attempt to trace the laws by which these phenomena are\nseverally guided.\n\n1. The first thing we would here remark, is, that the operations of the\nmoral sense appear to be resolvable into two classes, which may be\ntermed its _legislative_ and its _executive_ powers. When conscience\nleads us merely to judge and to decide upon the character of a feeling\nor an action, whether good or evil, it acts in its _legislative_\ncapacity; but when it reproves and punishes, or approves and rewards,\nfor actions done, it acts in its _executive_ capacity. These two\ndepartments of the moral sense seem quite distinct in their nature and\noperations; and, as we shall immediately see, they not only exist\nseparately, but they sometimes act independently of each other.\n\n2. Another circumstance connected with conscience is, that her\n_legislative_ powers do not develope themselves, nor appear to act, till\nthe reasoning powers of the person begin to expand. Then, and then only\ndoes the pupil of Nature, who has not had the benefit of previous moral\ninstruction, begin to decide on the merit or demerit of actions.\nInfants, and children who are left without instruction, appear to have\nno distinct perception that certain actions are right, and others wrong.\nIn infancy, we frequently perceive the most rebellious outbreakings of\nungoverned passion, with tearing, and scratching, and beating the\nparent, without any indication of compunction, either at the time, or\nafter it has taken place. Even in children of more advanced years, while\nthey remain without moral instruction, and before the reasoning powers\nare developed, the injuries which they occasion to each other, or which\nthey inflict upon the old, the decrepit, or the helpless, are matters of\nunmingled glee and gratification, without the slightest sign of\nconscience interfering to prevent them, or of giving them any uneasiness\nafter the mischief is done. Instead of sorrow, such children are found\ninvariably delighted with the recollection of their tricks; and never\nfail to recapitulate them to their companions afterwards, with triumph\nand satisfaction.--But it is not so with the adult. As soon as the\nreasoning powers are developed, the legislative functions of conscience\nbegin to act, enabling and impelling the person to decide at once on\nactions, whether they are right or wrong, good or evil. Such a person,\ntherefore, could not strike nor abuse his parents, without knowing that\nhe was doing wrong; nor could he tantalize or injure the aged or the\nhelpless, without conscience putting him upon his guard, as well as\nreproving and punishing the crime by compunctious feelings after it was\ncommitted.\n\nFrom this we perceive, that the legislative powers of conscience are\nusually dormant in the child, and do not, when left to Nature, act till\nthe reasoning powers have exhibited themselves; from which we are led to\nconclude, that it is by an _early education_,--by _moral instruction_\nalone,--that the young are to be guarded against crime, and prepared and\nfurnished to good works.\n\n3. This leads us to observe another remarkable circumstance,\ncorroborative also of the above remark, which is, that although the\nlegislative powers of conscience are but very imperfectly, if at all\ndeveloped in children, yet the _executive_ powers are never absent,\nwhere moral instruction has previously been communicated.--A child of\nvery tender years, and even an infant, may be taught, that certain\nactions are good and should be performed, while others are evil and must\nbe avoided. This is matter of daily experience; and a little attention\nto the subject will shew, that moral instruction in the case of the\nyoung, acts the same part that the legislative powers of conscience do\nin the adult. But what we wish at present more particularly to remark\nis, that whenever such moral instruction has been communicated, Nature\nat once sanctions it, and is ever ready to use the executive powers of\nthe conscience for the purpose of rendering it effective. When therefore\ngood actions have been pointed out as praiseworthy and deserving of\napprobation, there is a strong inducement to practise them, and a\ndelightful feeling of satisfaction and self-approval after they have\nbeen performed. And when, on the contrary, certain other actions have\nbeen denounced as wicked, and which, if indulged in, will be punished\neither by their parents or by God, the child feels all the hesitation\nand fear to commit them, that is observable in similar cases among older\npersons; and, when committed he experiences the same remorse, and\nterror, and self-reproach, which in the adult follow the perpetration of\nan aggravated crime. This is a circumstance which must be obvious to\nevery reader; and it distinctly intimates, that the God of Nature\nintends that the legislative powers of conscience should in all cases\nbe _anticipated_ by the parent and teacher. The moral instruction or the\nyoung is to be the rule; the neglect of it, although in some measure\nprovided for, is to be the exception. The lesson is as plain as analogy\ncan teach us, that, while there is written on the heart of man such an\noutline of the moral law as will leave him without excuse when called to\njudgment, yet it is not the design of the Creator that, in a matter of\nsuch vast importance as the moral perfection of a rational creature, we\nshould trust to that, and, like savages, leave our children to gather\ninformation respecting moral good and evil solely from the slowly\ndeveloped and imperfect dictates of their own nature. The whole\nphenomena of the natural conscience shew, that although God secures the\noperation of the legislative powers of conscience to direct the actions\nof the man when they are really required, yet he intends that they\nshould be anticipated by moral instruction given by the parent. And this\nis proved by the remarkable fact, that when this instruction is\ncommunicated, the executive powers of conscience immediately come into\noperation, and homologate this instruction, by approving of it, adopting\nit, and acting upon it.\n\n4. This is still farther obvious from a fourth consideration, which is,\nthat wherever moral instruction has been communicated to the young, the\nlegislative powers of conscience are either altogether superseded, or\nleft dormant.--Every person who in youth has received a regular moral\nand religious education, and who retains upon his mind the knowledge\nthen communicated, is found through life to act upon _that_ knowledge\nchiefly, if not entirely. He seldom thinks of the dictates of his\nnatural conscience, and but rarely perceives them. In every decision to\nwhich he comes as to what is right or wrong, reference is generally made\nin his mind, either to the declarations of Scripture, or to the moral\ninstructions which he has formerly received; and upon these he\ninvariably falls back, when any action of a doubtful character is\npresented for his approval or rejection. From this very remarkable\ncircumstance, we at once ascertain what are the intentions of Nature.\nShe very plainly requires the early moral instruction of the young, by\nthose into whose hands she has placed them; because she is here found to\nencourage and acknowledge this instruction at the expense of her own\nlegislative powers, which not being now required, are allowed to lie\nidle.\n\n5. Another circumstance connected with this subject, is the well known\nfact, that children are found capable of moral instruction long before\nthe time that Nature usually begins to develope the legislative powers\nof the conscience.--A child, almost as soon as he can be made to know\nthat he has an earthly father, may be taught that he has another Father\nin heaven; and when he can be induced to feel that a certain line of\nconduct is necessary to secure the favour of the one, he may also be led\nto comprehend that certain dispositions and actions will please the\nother. Now, that a child can be taught and trained to do all this with\nrespect to his parents, is matter of daily experience. As soon as he can\nunderstand any thing, and long before he can speak, he may be enabled to\ndistinguish between right and wrong, as well as to do that which is\ngood, and to avoid that which is evil; and in every case of this kind,\nNature sanctions the moral instruction communicated, by invariably\nfollowing it up with the practical operation of the executive powers of\nconscience, which always approve that which the child thinks is good,\nand reprove that which he supposes to be wrong. The triumphant gleam of\nsatisfaction which brightens the countenance of a child, and the\nlaughing look and pause for approval when he has done something that he\nknows to be right, are abundant proofs of the truth of this observation;\nwhile his cowering scowl, and fear of reproof or punishment, when he\nhas done that which is wrong, are equal indications of the same thing.\nNature, therefore, that has given the capacity of distinguishing between\ngood and evil when thus communicated, and that invariably approves of\nthe operation, and assists in it, has most certainly intended that it\nshould be exercised. This consideration, taken in connection with its\nadvantages to the family, to the child, to the future man, and to\nsociety, plainly points out the value and the importance of early\nreligious instruction and moral training.\n\n6. Another circumstance, in connection with the application of knowledge\nby means of the conscience, should not be overlooked. It is the\nremarkable fact, that Nature has implanted in the mind of the young a\nprinciple, by which they unhesitatingly believe whatever they are\ntold.--A child who has not been abused by frequent deceptions, is a\nperfect picture of docility. He never for a moment doubts either his\nparent or his teacher when he tells him what is right and what is wrong.\nIf he be taught that it is a sin to eat flesh on Fridays, he never\nquestions the truth of it; and if told that he may kill spiders, but\nshould not hurl flies, he may wonder at the difference, but he never\ndoubts the correctness of the statement. This disposition in children is\napplicable to every kind of instruction offered to them;--but the\nsuperior importance of moral, to every other kind of truth, and the\nbeneficial effects of the principle when applied to moral and religious\ntraining, shew that it is chiefly designed by Nature for aiding the\nparent and teacher in this most important part of their labours.\n\n7. Another circumstance connected with this subject is, that the\nexecutive powers of conscience always act according to the belief of the\nperson, and not according to what would have been the dictates of\nconscience in the exercise of her legislative functions.--This of itself\nis a sufficient proof of the separate and independent agency of these\ntwo principles. The legislative powers, as at first implanted in the\nheart of man, there is reason to believe, would, if allowed to act\nfreely, never have been in error; and even still, they are generally a\nwitness for the purity of truth;--but the executive powers invariably\nact, not according to what is really the truth, but according to what\nthe person himself believes to be right or wrong. The child who was told\nthat it was a sin to eat flesh on a Friday, would be reproved by his\nconscience were he to indulge his appetite by doing so;--and the\nconscience of the zealous Musselman, which would smite him for indulging\nin a sip of wine, would commend and reward him by its approval, for\nindulging in cruelty and injustice to the unbeliever in his faith. The\nexecutive functions of conscience then act independently of the\nlegislative, and frequently in opposition to them. There must be a\nfeeling of wrong, before the executive powers will reprove; and there\nmust be a sense of merit, before they will commend;--but a mistake in\neither case makes no apparent difference. This is another, and a\npowerful argument for the early moral instruction of the young; and it\nshews us also, the greater value which Nature puts upon the\n_application_ and _use_ of knowledge, than upon its possession. She not\nonly encourages this application in all ordinary cases; but here we find\nher, for the purpose of maintaining the general principle, lending her\nassistance in the application and use of the knowledge received, even\nwhen the knowledge itself is erroneous, and the application mischievous.\n\n8. Another important circumstance which is worthy of especial notice,\nis, that conscience is much more readily acted upon by _examples_, than\nby _precepts_.--In communicating a knowledge of duty, this principle in\nNature has become proverbial; but it is not less true with respect to\nthe executive powers, in approving or reproving that which is right or\nwrong. It is the prerogative of conscience to excite us to approve or\ncondemn the conduct of others, as well as our own; and this is\nregulated, not by strict truth, but by our belief at the time, whether\nthat belief be correct or the contrary. Now the precept, \"Thou shalt not\nkill,\" would be sufficient to make the executive powers of conscience\nwatchful, in deterring the individual from the crime, or in reproving\nand punishing him if he committed it. But the mere precept would have\nbut little effect in exhibiting to him the full atrocity of the sin, in\ncomparison with an anecdote or a story which detailed its commission.\nBut even this would not be so powerful as the effect produced by a\nmurder committed in a neighbouring street, and still more were it\nperpetrated in his own presence. The necessary inference to be drawn\nfrom this remarkable fact is, that moral truth is much more effectively\ntaught by example than by precept; and accordingly we find, that at\nleast four-fifths of scripture, which is altogether a moral instrument,\nconsist of narrative, and are given specially, \"that the man of God may\nbe perfect, thoroughly furnished to every good work.\"\n\n9. Another circumstance worthy of observation is, that the executive\npowers of conscience appear to be exceedingly partial when exercised\nupon actions done by _ourselves_, in comparison of its decisions upon\nthe same actions when they are committed by _others_.--When we ourselves\nperform a good action, the approval of our conscience is more lively and\nmore extensive, than it would have been had the good action been that of\nanother. On the contrary, it would be more ready to perform its\nfunctions, and more powerful in impressing upon our minds the demerit or\nwickedness of an action committed by another, than if we ourselves had\ncommitted it. The reason of this is obviously self-love, which partly\noverbears the natural operations of this principle. Violence of passion\nand strong desire, when we are tempted to commit a crime, are hostile\nmovements against the dictates of conscience; and they too frequently,\nby their excess, stifle and drown the still small voice which does\nspeak out, but which, for the moment, is not heard within us.--But\nnothing of this kind takes place when the crime is committed by others.\nWe are then much more impartial; and conscience is permitted to utter\nher voice, and to make her impressions without opposition. This\nimpartial decision on the conduct of others, is found to be a great\nmeans of preventing us from the future commission of a similar crime;\nand this affords us another powerful argument in favour of early\ninstruction and moral training. By attending early to this duty, the\nmind of the child is made up, and sentence has been pronounced on\ncertain acts, before selfishness or the passions have had an opportunity\nof blinding the mind, or silencing the conscience. By proper moral\ntraining the pupil is fortified and prepared for combating his evil\ninclinations when temptations occur; but without this, he will have to\nencounter sudden temptations at a great disadvantage.\n\n10. Another circumstance connected with this subject is, that the moral\nsentiments and feelings above all others, are improved and strengthened\nby exercise; and are weakened, and often destroyed by disregard or\nopposition.--Every instance of moral exercise or moral discipline,\ninvigorates the executive powers of conscience, and renders the moral\nperceptions of the person more acute and tender. Every successful\nstruggle against a temptation, implants in the mind of a child a noble\nconsciousness of dignity, and confers a large amount of moral strength,\nand a firmer determination to resist others. In this respect, the good\nderived from the mere knowledge of a duty and its actual performance is\nimmense. A child who is merely told that a certain action is\npraiseworthy, is by no means so sensible of the fact, or of its value,\nas he is after he has actually performed it; and when, on the contrary,\nhe is told that a certain action is wrong, he is no doubt prepared to\navoid it; but it is not till he has been tempted to its commission, and\nhas successfully overcome the temptation, that he is fully aware of its\nenormity. When he has successfully resisted the first temptation, he is\nmuch better prepared than any exhortation or warning could make him for\nresisting and repelling a second;--while every successive victory will\ngive strength to the executive powers of the conscience, and will render\nfuture conflicts less hazardous, and resistance more easy. For the same\nreason, an amiable action frequently performed does not pall by\nrepetition, but appears more and more amiable, till the doing of it\ngrows into a habit; and the approval of conscience becoming every day\nmore satisfactory, the person will be stimulated to its frequent and\nregular observance.\n\nBut the opposite of this is equally true.--The continued habit of\nsuppressing the voice of conscience will greatly weaken, and will at\nlast destroy its executive powers. When a person knows that a certain\naction is wrong, and is tempted to commit it,--conscience will speak\nout, and for the first time at least it will be listened to. But if this\nwarning be neglected, and the sin be committed, the conscience will be\nproportionally weakened, and the self-will of the individual will\nacquire additional strength. When the temptation again presents itself,\nit is with redoubled power, and it meets with less resistance. It will\ninvariably be found in such cases, that the person felt much more\ndifficulty in resisting the admonitions of conscience in the case of the\nfirst temptation, than in that of the second; and he will also feel more\nduring the second than he will during the third. Frequent resistance\noffered to the executive powers of conscience will at last lay them\nasleep. The beginning of this downward career is always the most\ndifficult; but when once fairly begun, it grows every day more easy,\ntill the habit of sin becomes like a second nature.\n\n11. There is yet another feature in the exhibition of the moral sense in\nadults, which ought not to be overlooked by the Educationist in his\ntreatment of the young. We here allude to the remarkable fact, that the\nconscience scarcely ever refers to consequences connected merely with\nthis world and time, but compels the man, in spite of himself, to fear,\nthat his actions will, in some way or other, have an influence upon his\nhappiness or his misery in another world, and through eternity.--The\nmere uneasiness arising from the fear of detection and punishment by\nmen, is a perfectly different kind of feeling, and never is, and never\nought to be, dignified with the name of conscience. It is the\nconsequence of a mere animal calculation of chances;--similar to the\nfeelings which give rise to the cautious prowling of the hungry lion, or\nthe stealthy advances of the timorous fox. But the forebodings, as well\nas the gnawings of conscience, extend much farther, and strike much\ndeeper, than these superficial and animal sensations. Conscience in man,\nas long as it is permitted to act freely, has always a reference to God,\nto a future judgment, and to eternity, and is but rarely affected by\nworldly considerations. The valuable lesson to be drawn from this\ncircumstance obviously is, that the parent and teacher ought, in their\nmoral training of the young, to make use of the same principle. The\nanticipated approbation or displeasure of their earthly parents or\nteachers, or even the fear of the rod and correction, is not enough.\nChildren are capable of being restrained by much higher motives, and\nstimulated to duty by nobler and more generous feelings. The greatness,\nthe holiness, the unwearied goodness, and the omnipresence of their\nheavenly Father, present to the rational and tender affections of the\nyoung, a constantly increasing stimulus to obedience and\nself-controul;--while the fear of mere physical suffering will be found\ndaily to decrease, and may perhaps in some powerful minds at last\naltogether disappear. The horse and the dog were intended to be trained\nin the one way;--but rational and intelligent minds were obviously\nintended to be trained in the other.\n\nOf these facts, connected as they are with the application of knowledge\nby means of the moral sense, the Educationist must make use for the\nperfecting of his science. They are the most valuable, and therefore\nthey ought to form the most important branch of his investigations. All\nthe other parts of Nature's teaching were but means;--this is obviously\nthe great end she designed by using them, and therefore it ought to be\nhis also.\n\nIn regard to the practical working of this important part of Nature's\neducational process, we need only remark here, that the application of\nthe pupil's knowledge connected with the moral sense, is precisely the\nsame in form, as in that connected with the common sense. There is\nalways here first, as in the former case, some fundamental truth,\ngenerally derived from Scripture, or founded on some moral maxim, and\npresented in the form of a precept, a promise, a threatening, or an\nexample;--there is next a lesson or inference drawn from this\ntruth;--and there is, lastly, a practical application of that lesson or\ninference to present circumstances.\n\nFor the purpose of illustrating this, let us suppose that a boy who has\nbeen trained in imitation of Nature, is tempted by some ungodly\nacquaintances to join with them in absenting himself from public\nworship, and in breaking the Sabbath. The moment that such a temptation\nis suggested to him, a feeling arises in his mind, which will take\nsomething like the following form:--\"I ought not to absent myself from\npublic worship;\"--\"I ought not to break the Sabbath;\"--\"I ought not to\nkeep bad company.\" Here are three distinct lessons suited to the\noccasion, obviously derived from his previous knowledge, and which he\nhas been trained either directly or indirectly to draw from \"the only\nrule of duty,\" the Bible. When, accordingly, the temptation is farther\npressed upon him, and the reasons of his refusal are regularly put into\nform, they appear in something like the following shape and order:--\"I\nmust not absent myself from public worship; for thus it is written,\n'Forget not the assembling of yourselves together;' and, 'Jesus, _as his\ncustom was_, went to the synagogue on the Sabbath day.'\"--\"I must not\nprofane this holy day; for thus it is written, 'Remember the Sabbath day\nto keep it holy,'\"--And, \"I must not go with these boys; for thus it is\nwritten, 'Go not in the way of the ungodly;' and 'Evil communications\ncorrupt good manners.'\"\n\nWhoever will investigate the subject closely, will find, that the above\nis a pretty correct picture of the mental process, wherever temptation\nis opposed and overcome by means of religious principle;--but it is also\nworthy of remark, that the form is still nearly the same by whomsoever a\ntemptation is resisted, and whether they do or do not take the\nScriptures for their text-book and directory. The only difference in\nsuch a case is, that their lessons have been drawn from some _other_\nsource. For example, another boy exposed to the above temptation might\nsuccessfully resist it upon the following grounds. He might say, \"I must\nnot absent myself from public worship; because I shall then lose the\npromised reward for taking home the text;\"--\"I dare not profane the\nSabbath; because, if I did, my father would punish me;\"--\"I will not go\nwith these boys; because I would be ashamed to be seen in their\ncompany.\" In this latter example, we have the same lessons, and the same\napplication, although these lessons have been derived from a more\nquestionable, and a much more variable source. In both cases, however,\nit is the same operation of Nature, and which we ought always to imitate\ntherefore upon scriptural and solid grounds.\n\nThese examples might be multiplied in various forms, and yet they would\nin every case be found substantially alike. The application of\nknowledge, whether by the common or the moral sense, is carried forward\nonly in one way, in which the truth, the lesson, and the application,\nfollow each other in natural order, whether they be perceived or not. To\nthis process, therefore, every branch and portion of our knowledge ought\nto be adapted, as it is obviously the great end designed by Nature in\nall her previous endeavours. The parent, therefore, or the teacher, who\nwilfully passes over, or but slightly attends to these plain\nindications, is really betraying his trust, and deeply injuring the\nfuture prospects of his immortal charge.\n\nThe several circumstances enumerated in the previous part of this\nchapter, as connected with the moral sense, are capable of suggesting\nmany important hints for the establishment of education; but there are\none or two connected with the subject as a whole, to which we must very\nshortly allude.\n\nIn the first place, from the foregoing facts we are powerfully led to\nthe conclusion, that all kinds of physical good, such as health,\nstrength, beauty, riches, and honours, and even the higher attainments\nof intellectual sagacity and knowledge, are, in the estimation of\nNature, not once to be compared with the very lowest of the moral\nacquirements. With respect to the former, man shares them, though in a\nhigher degree, with the brute creation;--but _morals_ are altogether\npeculiar to higher intelligences. To man, in particular, the value of\nmoral discipline is beyond calculation:--For, however much the present\nignorance and grossness of men's minds may deceive them in weighing\ntheir respective worth, yet it would be easy to shew, that the knowledge\nand practice of but one additional truth in morals, are of more real\nvalue to a child, than a whole lifetime of physical enjoyment. Nature\nhas accordingly implanted in his constitution, a complete system of\nmoral machinery, to assist the parent in this first and most important\npart of his duty,--that of guiding his children in the paths of\nreligion and virtue. The executive powers of conscience are always alive\nand active, stimulating or restraining both young and old, wherever the\naction proposed partakes of the character of right or wrong. And, even\nwhere the parental duties in this respect have been neglected, Nature\nhas, in part, graciously provided a remedy. In all such cases, during\nthe years of advancing manhood, the law is gradually and vividly written\nupon the heart. Its dictates are generally, no doubt, dimmed and defaced\nby the natural depravity and recklessness of the sinner; but even then,\nthey are sufficiently legible to leave him without excuse for his\nneglect of their demands.\n\nThe preference which Nature gives to moral acquirements, is demonstrated\nalso by another feature in her different modes of applying knowledge by\nthe common and the moral senses. In the attainment of physical good,\nNature leaves men, as she does the lower animals, in a great measure to\nthemselves, under the guardianship of the common sense; but, in respect\nto actions that are morally good or evil, she deals with them in a much\nmore solemn and dignified manner. A transgression of the laws of the\nnatural or common sense, is, without discrimination and without mercy,\nvisited with present and corresponding punishment; plainly indicating,\nthat with respect to these there is to be no future reckoning;--while\nthe trial and final judgment of moral acts are usually reserved for a\nfuture, a more solemn, and a more comprehensive investigation.\n\nAnother inference which legitimately arises out of the above\nconsiderations, as well as from the facts themselves, is, that religion\nand morals are really intended to be the chief object of attention in\nthe education of the young. This is a circumstance so clearly and so\nfrequently pointed out to us, in our observation of Nature's educational\nprocesses, that no person, we think, of a philosophic turn of mind, can\nconsistently refuse his assent to it. The facts are so numerous, and\nthe legitimate inferences to be drawn from them are so plain, that\npre-conceived opinions should never induce us either to blink them from\nfear, or deny them from prejudice. These facts and inferences too, it\nshould be observed, present themselves to our notice in all their own\nnative power and simplicity, invulnerable in their own strength, and, in\none sense, altogether independent of revelation. They are, no doubt,\nefficiently supported in every page of the Christian Record; but,\nwithout revelation, they force themselves upon our conviction, and\ncannot be consistently refuted. We state this fearlessly, from a\nconsideration of numerous facts, to a few of which, selected from among\nmany, we shall, before concluding, very shortly advert.\n\nIn the first place, it is obvious to the most cursory observer, that\nmoral attainments and moral greatness are more honoured by Nature, and\nare, of course, more valuable to man, than the possession of either\nintellectual or physical good.--Nature has, to the possessor, made\nvirtue its own reward, in that calm consciousness of dignity,\nself-approval, and peace, which are its natural results; while, even\nfrom the mere looker-on, she compels an approval. On the contrary, we\nfind, that the highest intellectual or physical attainments, when\ncoupled with vice, lead directly and invariably to corresponding depths\nof degradation and misery. No one, we think, can deny this as a general\nprinciple; and if it be admitted, the question is settled; for no person\nacting rationally would seek the _lesser_ good for his child, at the\nexpense of the _greater_.\n\nAnother proof of the same fact is, that Nature has provided for the\nphysical and intellectual education of the young, by means of the animal\nor \"common sense;\" while morals are, in a great measure, left to the\neducation of the parents. The principle of common sense, as we have\nseen, begins its operations and discipline in early infancy, and\ncontinues to act through life; but the culture of the moral sense,--by\nfar the most important of the two,--is left during infancy and childhood\nvery much to the affections of the natural guardians of the child, and\nto the results of their education. Hence it is, that while Nature amply\nprovides for the _neglect_ of this duty, by the developement of the\nlegislative powers of conscience towards manhood, they are comparatively\nfeeble, and in ordinary cases are but little thought of or observed,\nwherever this duty has timeously been attended to. From all these\ncircumstances we infer, that it is the intention of Nature, that the\nestablishment and culture of religion and morals should in every case\nform the chief objects of education,--the main business of the family\nand the school;--an intention which she has pointed out and guarded by\nvaluable rewards on the one hand, and severe penalties on the other.\nWhen the duty is faithfully attended to, Nature lends her powerful\nassistance, by the early developement of the executive powers of\nconscience, and the virtue of the pupil is the appropriate reward to\nboth parties; but, when this is omitted, the growing depravity of the\nchild becomes at once the reproof and the punishment of the parents, for\nthis wilful violation of Nature's designs.\n\nIn conclusion, it may be necessary to remark, that from these latter\ncircumstances, another and a directly opposite inference may be drawn,\nwhich we must not allow to pass without observation.--It may be said,\nthat the very postponement of the legislative powers of conscience till\nthe years of manhood, shews, that religion and morals are not designed\nto be taught till that period arrive. Now, to this there are two\nanswers.--_First_, if it were correct, it would set aside, and render\nuseless almost all the other indications of Nature on this subject. In\naccordance with the view taken of the circumstances as above, these\nindications are perfectly harmonious and effective; but, in the view of\nthe case which this argument supposes, they are all inconsistent and\nuseless.--But, _secondly_, if this argument proves any thing, it proves\ntoo much, and would infer the absurd proposition, that physical and\nintellectual qualities are superior in value to moral attainments;--a\nproposition that is contradicted, as we have shewn, by every operation\nand circumstance in Nature and providence. It is in direct opposition\nalso to all the unsophisticated feelings of human Nature. No thinking\nperson will venture to affirm, that the beauty of the courtezan, the\nstrength of the robber, or the intelligence and sagacity of the\nswindler, are more to be honoured than the generous qualities of a\nWilberforce or a Howard. And therefore it is, that from a calm and\ndispassionate consideration of these facts, and independently altogether\nof revelation, we cannot see how any impartial philosophic mind can\nevade the conclusion, that the chief object to be attended to in the\neducation of the young, and to which every thing else should be strictly\nsubservient, is _their regular and early training in religion and\nmorals_.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XI.\n\n_On Nature's Method of Training her Pupils to Communicate their\nKnowledge._\n\n\nThere is yet a _Fourth_ process in the educational system of Nature,\nwhich may be termed supplementary, as it is not intended solely, nor\neven chiefly, for the good of the pupil himself, but for the\ncommunity.--This process of Nature consists in the training of her pupil\nto communicate, by language, not only his own wishes and wants, but\nalso, and perhaps chiefly, the knowledge and experience which he himself\nhas attained. The three previous processes of Nature were in a great\nmeasure selfish,--referring to the pupil as an individual, and are of\nuse although he should be alone, and isolated from all others of his\nspecies; but this is characteristically social, and to the monk and the\nhermit is altogether useless.\n\nThat this ability to communicate our sentiments is intended by Nature,\nnot for the sole benefit of the individual, but chiefly as an instrument\nof doing good to others, appears obvious from various circumstances. Its\nimportance in education, and in the training of the young, would of\nitself, we think, be a sufficient proof of this; but it is rendered\nunquestionable by the invariable decision of every unbiassed mind, in\njudging of a person who is constantly speaking of and for himself; and\nof another whose sole object in conversation, is to exalt and promote\nthe happiness of those around him. The one person, however meritorious\notherwise, is pitied or laughed at;--the other is admired and applauded\nin spite of ourselves.\n\nThe benevolence of this arrangement in the educational process of Nature\nis worthy of especial notice, as it leads us directly to the conclusion,\nthat learning, of whatever kind, is not intended to be a monkish and\npersonal thing, but is really designed by Nature for the benefit of the\ncommunity at large. Those connected with education, therefore, are here\ntaught, that the training of the young should be so conducted, that\nwhile the attainments of the pupil shall in every instance benefit\nhimself, they shall at the same time be of such a kind, and shall be\ncommunicated in such a way, as shall advantage the persons with whom he\nis to mingle, and the community of which he is to form a part. Unless\nthis lesson, taught us by Nature, be attended to, her plan is obviously\nleft incomplete.\n\nIn entering upon the consideration of this part of our subject, we\ncannot but remark the value and the importance which Nature has attached\nto the higher acquisitions of this anti-selfish portion of her teaching.\nLanguage is perverted and abused, when it is generally and chiefly\nemployed for the benefit of the individual himself; and the decision of\nevery candid and well-disposed mind confirms the truth of this\nassertion. When, on the contrary, it is employed for the benefit of\nothers, or for the good of the public in general, it commands attention,\nand compels approval. Eloquence, therefore, is obviously intended by\nNature for the benefit of communities; and accordingly, she has so\ndisposed matters in the constitution of men's minds, and of society,\nthat communities shall in every instance do it homage. In proof of this,\nwe find, in every age and nation, wherever Nature is not totally debased\nby art or crime, that the most powerful orator, has almost always been\nfound to be the most influential man. Every other qualification in\nsociety has been made to bend to this, and even reason itself is often\nfor the moment obscured, by means of its fascinations. Learning and\nintellect, riches, popularity, and power, have frequently been made to\nquail before it; and even virtue itself has for a time been deprived of\nits influence, when assailed by eloquence. Nay, even in more artificial\ncommunities, where Nature has been constrained and moulded anew to suit\nthe tastes and caprices of selfish men, eloquence has still maintained\nits reputation, and has generally guided the possessor to honour and to\npower. Amongst the lower and unsophisticated classes of society its\ninfluence is almost universal; and in most polished communities, it is\nstill acknowledged as a high attainment, and one of the best indications\nthat has yet been afforded of superior mental culture.\n\nThat this is not an erroneous estimate of the mental powers of a\nfinished debater, will be evident from a slight analysis of what he has\nto achieve in the exercise of his art. He has, while his adversary is\nspeaking, to receive and retain upon his mind, the whole of his\nargument,--separate its weak and strong points,--and call forth and\narrange those views and illustrations which are calculated to overthrow\nand demolish it. This itself, even when performed in silence, is a\nprodigious effort of mental strength; but when he commences to speak,\nand to manage these, with other equally important operations of his own\nmind at the same moment, the difficulty of succeeding is greatly\nincreased. When he begins to pour forth his refutation in an\nuninterrupted flow of luminous eloquence;--meeting, combating, and\nsetting aside his opponent's statements and reasonings;--carefully\nmarking, as he goes along, the effect produced upon his hearers, and\nadapting his arguments to the varying emotions and circumstances of the\naudience;--withholding, transposing, or abridging the materials he had\npreviously prepared, or seizing new illustrations suggested by passing\nincidents;--and all this not only without hesitation, and without\nconfusion, but with the most perfect composure and self-controul;--such\na man gives evidence of an energy, a grasp, a quickness of thought,\nwhich, as an exhibition of godlike power in a creature, has scarcely a\nparallel in the whole range of Nature's efforts. All kinds and degrees\nof physical glory, in comparison with this, sink into insignificance.\n\nIt is but rare indeed that any country or age produces a Demosthenes, a\nPitt, a Thomson, or a Brougham; and such persons have hitherto been\nconsidered as gifts of Nature, rather than the legitimate production of\neducational exercises. But this we conceive to be a mistake. They may\nperhaps have been self-taught, and self-exercised, as Demosthenes\nconfessedly was; but that teaching, and especially mental and oral\nexercise, are necessary for the production of one of Nature's chief\nornaments, both analogy and experience abundantly shew.[8] Fluency in\nthe use of words is not enough,--copiousness of thought, such as may be\nof use in the study, is not enough;--for Nature's work, of which we are\nat present speaking, consists chiefly in the faculty of forming one\ntrain of thoughts in the mind, at the same time that the individual is\ngiving expression to another. Every child, accordingly, who holds\nconversation with his companion, is practising on a limited scale the\nvery exercise which, if carried out by regular gradations, would\nultimately lead to that excellence which we have above described. In\nevery case of free unconstrained conversation, the operation of this\nprinciple of Nature is apparent; for the idea is present to the mind\nsome time before the tongue gives it utterance, and the person is\npreparing a second idea, at the moment he is communicating the first.\nUpon this simple principle the whole art of eloquence, when analyzed,\nappears to depend. We shall therefore endeavour to trace its operation,\nand the methods which Nature adopts for the purpose of perfecting it.\n\nThat this ability is altogether acquired, and depends wholly upon\nexercise for its cultivation, is obvious in every stage of its progress,\nbut especially towards its commencement. When Nature first begins to\nsuggest to an infant the use of language, we perceive that it cannot\nthink and speak at the same moment. Long after it has acquired the\nknowledge of words and names, and even the power of articulating them,\nit utters but one syllable, or one word at a time. Its language, for a\nwhile after it has acquired a pretty extensive acquaintance with nouns\nand adjectives, is made up of single, or at most double words, with an\nobservable pause between each, as if, after uttering one, it had to\ncollect its thoughts and again prepare for a new effort, before it was\nable to pronounce the next. This is the child's first step, or rather\nthe child's first attempt, in this important exercise; and it is\nconspicuous chiefly by the want, even in the least degree, of that power\nof which we have spoken. By and bye, however, the child is able to put\ntwo syllables, or two words together, without the pause;--but not three.\nThat is a work of time, and that again has to become familiar, before\nfour, or more words be attempted. These, however, are at last mastered;\nand he slowly acquires by practice the ability to utter a short\nsentence, composed chiefly of nouns, adjectives, and verbs, without\ninterruption, and at last without difficulty.\n\nIn the process here described, we perceive the commencement of Nature's\nexercises in training her pupil to the acquisition of this valuable\nfaculty. It consists chiefly, as we have said, in enabling the child by\nregular practice to arrive at such a command of the mental faculties,\nand the powers of articulation, as qualifies him to exercise both\napparently at the same moment. His mind is employed in preparing one set\nof ideas, while the organs of speech are engaged in giving utterance to\nanother. He thinks that which he is about to speak, at the moment he is\nspeaking that which he previously thought; and if, as is generally\nadmitted, the mind cannot be engaged upon two things at the same moment,\nthere is here an instance of such a rapid and successive transition from\none to another, as obviously to elude perception.\n\nThe various means which Nature employs in working out this great end in\nthe young are very remarkable. We have seen that a child at first does\nnot possess the power of uttering even a word, while his thoughts are\nengaged on any thing else. The powers of the mind must as it were be\nconcentrated upon that one word, till by long practice he can at last\nthink on one and utter another. The same difficulty of speaking and\nthinking on different things is observable in his amusements; and Nature\nappears to employ the powerful auxiliary of his play to assist him in\novercoming it. When a young child is engaged in any amusement which\nrequires thought, the inability of the mind to do double duty is very\nevident. He cannot hear a question, nor speak a single sentence, and go\non with his play at the same time. If a question be asked, he stops,\nlooks up, hears, answers, and then perhaps collects his thoughts, and\nagain proceeds with his game as before; but for a long time he cannot\neven hear, far less speak, and play at the same moment. When a child is\nable to do this, it is a good sign of his having acquired considerable\nmental powers.\n\nThe excitement of play, we have said, is one chief means which Nature\nemploys for the cultivation of this faculty, and it is peculiarly worthy\nof attention by the Educationist. Every one must have observed the\nstrong desire which children have, during their more exhilarating games,\nto exercise their lungs by shouting, and calling out, and giving\ndirection, encouragement, or reproof, to their companions. In all these\ninstances, the impetus of their play is not apparently stopt while they\nspeak, and every time that this takes place, they are promoting their\nmental, as well as their physical health and well-being. The accuracy of\nthis remark is perhaps more conspicuous, although not more real, in the\nless boisterous and more placid employment of the young. The lively\nprattle of the girl, while constructing her baby-house; her playful\narrogation of authority and command over her playmates, and her\nserio-comic administering of commendation or reproof in the assumed\ncharacter of \"mistress\" or \"mother,\" are all instances of a similar\nkind. A little attention to the matter will convince any one, that every\nsentence uttered by a child while dressing a doll, or rigging a ship, or\ncutting a stick, is really intended and employed by Nature in advancing\nthis great object. And we cannot help remarking, that the irksome\nsilence so frequently enjoined upon children during their play, or\nduring any species of active employment, is not only harsh and\nunnecessary, but is positively hurtful. It is in direct opposition both\nto the design and the practice of Nature. It is obstructing, or at least\nneglecting the cultivation and the developement of powers, which are\ndestined to be a chief ornament of life; a source of honour and\nenjoyment to the pupil himself, and ultimately a great benefit to\nsociety.\n\nThe cultivation of this faculty in adults, after they have emancipated\nthemselves from the discipline of Nature, is advanced or retarded by the\nuse or neglect of similar means. Accordingly we find, that in every\ninstance where the powers of the mind are actively, (not mechanically)\nemployed, while the individual is at the same time called on to exercise\nhis powers of speech and hearing on something else, this faculty of\nextemporaneous speaking is cultivated, and rendered more easy and\nfluent. Whereas, on the contrary, the most extensive acquaintance with\nwords, even when combined with much knowledge, has but little influence\nin making a ready speaker. Many of the most voluble of our species\nhave but a very scanty vocabulary, and still less knowledge; while men\nof extensive and profound learning, whose habits have been formed in the\nstudy, are often defective even in common conversation, and utterly\nunable to undertake with success the task of public extemporaneous\nspeaking. From this cause it is, that some of our ablest men, and our\ngreatest scholars, are necessitated to read that which they dare not\ntrust themselves to speak; while others, by a different practice, and\nperhaps with fewer real attainments, feel no difficulty in arranging\ntheir ideas, and delivering them at the same time with ease and fluency.\nHence it is also, that travelling, frequent intercourse with strangers,\ndebating societies, and above all, forensic pleadings, sharpen the\nfaculties, and give an ease and accuracy in thinking and speaking, which\nare but rarely acquired in the same degree in any other way.\n\nThere is one particular feature in this department of Nature's teaching,\nwhich is of so much importance both to the young and to adults, that it\nought not to be passed over without notice. It is the important fact,\nthat the highest attainments in this valuable accomplishment are within\nthe reach of almost every individual pupil, by a very moderate diligence\nin the use of the proper means. The counterpart of this is equally true;\nfor without culture, either regular or accidental, no portion of it can\never be acquired. This is abundantly proved both by experience and\nanalogy. Experience has shewn, that in every case, perseverance alone,\noften without system, has made great and powerful speakers; and the\nanalogy between the expression of our feelings by _words_ and by\n_music_, shews what proper training may do in both cases. Every one will\nadmit that it is easier to give expression to our feelings by the\nnatural organs of speech, than by the mechanical use of a musical\ninstrument; and if by making use of the proper means, and with a\nmoderate degree of diligence and perseverance, every man can be trained\nto play dexterously on the violin, or the organ, and at the same moment\nmaintain a perfect command over the operations of his mind,--we may\nreasonably conclude, from analogy, that with an equal, or even a smaller\ndegree of diligence, when the means have been equally systematized, the\nmost humble individual may be trained to manage the operations of his\nmind, while he is otherwise making use of his _tongue_, as the other is\nof his _fingers_.\n\nBut the opposite of this, as we have stated above, is equally true. For,\nalthough a man may, by diligence and perseverance, attain a high degree\nof perfection in the exercise of this faculty; yet, even the lowest must\nbe procured by the use of means. The art of thinking and speaking\ndifferent ideas at the same time, as we have proved, is not an\ninstinctive, but is wholly an acquired faculty, and must be attained by\nexercise wherever it is possessed. We have instanced as examples the\ncase of the girl having at first to stop while dressing her doll, and\nthe boy while rigging his ship; but what we wish to notice here is, that\nthe principle is not peculiar to children, whose ideas are few, and\nwhose language is imperfect, but applies equally to adults, even of\nsuperior attainments, and well cultivated minds. We have in part proved\nthis by the frequent defects of even learned men in conversation; but\nthere is good reason to conclude, that even these defects would have\nbeen greater, if the few opportunities they have improved had been less\nnumerous. In short, it appears, that the successful uttering of but two\nconsecutive words, while the mind is otherwise engaged, must be acquired\neven in the adult, by education or by discipline. This important fact in\neducation, might be demonstrated by numerous proofs, deduced from acts\nwhich are commonly understood to depend altogether on habit, and where\nthe mind is obviously but little engaged. We shall take the case already\nsupposed, that of the fingering of musical instruments. The rapidity\nwith which the fingers in this exercise perform their office, would lead\nus to pronounce it to be purely mechanical, and to suppose that the mind\nwas at perfect liberty to attend to any of the other functions of the\nbody, during the performance. But this is not the case; for although by\nlong practice, the operator has acquired the art of _thinking_ upon\nvarious other subjects while playing, he finds upon a first trial, that\nhe is then totally unable to articulate two words in succession. Here\nthen is a case exactly parallel with that of the children who had to\nstop to speak during their play; proving that it does not arise from the\nlack of ideas, or a deficiency in words, but purely from want of\ndiscipline and practice; because many musicians by practice, and by\npractice alone, overcome the difficulty, and become able both to speak\nand to play at the same time.\n\nThere is another circumstance connected with this part of our subject,\nwhich is worthy of remark. A person who is playing on an instrument, and\nwho is desirous to speak, finds himself, without long practice, totally\nunable to do so; but he may, if he pleases, sing what he has to say,\nprovided only that he modulate his voice to the tune he is playing. The\nreason of this appears to be two-fold; first, that the mind, by\nfollowing the tune in the articulation of the words, is relieved in a\ngreat measure from doing double duty; and secondly, and chiefly, because\nthe person has already acquired, by more or less practice, the faculty\nof singing and playing at the same time. From this illustration, we\nperceive the necessity that exists in education, of cultivating in the\nyoung, by direct means and special exercises, this important faculty of\nmanaging the thoughts and giving expression to them at the same moment.\nIt must be acquired by a course of mental discipline, which brings all\nthe elements of the principle into operation; the collecting and\nmanaging of ideas, the chusing and arranging of words, and the giving of\nthem utterance, at the same time. That direct exercises of this kind are\nnecessary for the purpose, is obvious from the illustrations here given;\nwhere we find, that although a person, while playing on an instrument,\nmay sing his words, he is yet unable to make the slightest deviation\nfrom singing to speaking, without a long and laborious practice.\n\nHere then we have been enabled to trace this supplementary process of\nNature in the education of her pupils, and to detect the great leading\nprinciple or law, by which it is governed. The attainment itself is the\nready and fluent communication of our ideas to others; and the mode\nemployed by nature for arriving at it, appears to be the training of her\npupils to exercise their minds upon one set of ideas, while they are\ngiving expression to another. That the mind is actually engaged in two\ndifferent ways, at the same moment of time, it is not necessary for us\nto suppose. It is sufficient for our purpose, that the operations so\nrapidly succeed each other, as to appear to do so. The ability to\naccomplish this, we have proved to be in every case an acquired habit,\nand is never possessed, even in the smallest degree, without effort. It\nis, in fact, the invariable result of exercise and education. The most\ngifted of our species are frequently destitute of it; while very feeble\nminds have been found to possess it, when by chance or design they have\nemployed the proper means for its attainment. What is wanted by the\nEducationist therefore, is an exercise, or series of exercises, which\nwill enable him to imitate Nature, by causing his pupil to employ his\nmind in preparing one set of ideas, while he is giving expression to\nanother. Such an exercise, upon whatever subject, will always produce,\nin a greater or less degree, the effect which Nature by this\nsupplementary process intends to accomplish; that of giving the pupil\nease and fluency in conversation, and a ready faculty of delivering his\nsentiments; while we have seen, by numerous illustrations, that it is at\nleast highly improbable that it ever can be acquired in any other way.\nWe have also demonstrated the impropriety of all unnecessary artificial\nrestrictions upon children while at their play, and of preventing their\nspeaking, calling out, and giving orders, encouragement, or commendation\nto their companions during it. These illustrations and examples have\nalso pointed out to us the importance of encouraging the young to speak\nor converse with their teachers or one another, while they are actively\nemployed at work, in their amusements, or in any other way in which the\nmind is but partially engaged. Exercises of this kind in the domestic\ncircle, where they could be more frequently resorted to, would be of\ngreat value in forwarding the mental capacities of the young, and might\nbe at least equally and extensively useful, as similar exercises\nemployed in the school. The consideration of suitable exercises for\nadvancing these ends, by which Nature may be successfully imitated in\nthis important part of her process, belongs to another department of\nthis Treatise, to which accordingly we must refer.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[8] Note G.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XII.\n\n_Recapitulation of the Philosophical Principles developed in the\nprevious Chapters._\n\n\nBefore proceeding to the third and more practical part of this Treatise,\nit will be of advantage here, shortly to review the progress we have\nmade in establishing the several educational principles, exhibited in\nthe operations of Nature, as it is upon these that the following\npractical recommendations are to be entirely founded. In doing this, we\nwould wish to press upon the attention of the reader the important\nconsideration, that however much we may fail in what is to _follow_, the\nprinciples which we have _already ascertained_, must still remain as\nstationary landmarks in education, at which all future advances, by\nwhomsoever made, must infallibly set out. The previous chapters,\ntherefore, in so far as they have given a correct exposition of Nature's\nmodes of teaching, must constitute something like the model upon which\nall her future imitators in education will have to work. There may be a\nchange of _order_, and a change of _names_, but the principles\nthemselves, in so far as they have been discovered, will for ever remain\nunchanged and unchangeable.--It is very different, however, with what is\nto _follow_, in which we are to make some attempts at imitation. The\nprinciples which regulate the rapid movements of fish through water is\none thing; and the attempt to imitate these principles by the\nship-builder is quite another thing. The first, when correctly\nascertained, remain the unalterable standard for every future naval\narchitect; but the attempts at imitation will change and improve, as\nlong as the minds of men are directed to the perfecting of\nship-building. In like manner, the various facts in the educational\nprocesses of Nature, in so far as they have been correctly ascertained\nin the previous part of this Treatise, must form the unalterable basis\nfor every future improvement in education. These facts, or principles,\nwill very probably be found to form only a part of her operations;--but\nas they do really form _a part_, they will become a nucleus, round which\nall the remaining principles when discovered will necessarily\ncongregate. We shall here therefore endeavour very shortly to\nrecapitulate the several principles or laws employed by Nature in her\nacademy, so far as we have been able to detect them; as it must be upon\nthese that not only we, but all our successors in the improvement of\neducation, must hereafter proceed.\n\nWe have seen in a former chapter, that the educational processes of\nNature divide themselves distinctly into four different kinds. _First_,\nthe cultivation of the powers of the mind:--_Second_, the acquisition of\nknowledge:--_Third_, the uses or application of that knowledge to the\ndaily varying circumstances of the pupil:--and _Fourth_, the ability to\ncommunicate this knowledge and experience to others.\n\nThe _first_ department of Nature's teaching, that of cultivating the\npowers of her pupil's mind, we found to depend chiefly, if not entirely,\nupon one simple mental operation, that of \"reiterating ideas;\" and from\nnumerous examples and experiments it has been shewn, that wherever this\nact of the mind takes place, there is, and there must be, mental\nculture; while, on the contrary, wherever it does not take place, there\nis not, so far as we can yet perceive, the slightest indication that the\nmind has either been exercised or benefited.\n\nThe _second_ department of Nature's teaching, we have seen, consists in\ninducing and assisting her pupils to acquire knowledge.--This object we\nfound her accomplishing by means of four distinct principles, which she\nbrings into operation in regular order, according to the age and mental\ncapacity of the pupil. These we have named the principle of \"Perception\nand Reiteration,\" which is the same as that employed in her first\nprocess;--the principle which we have named \"Individuation,\" which\nalways precedes and prepares for the two following;--there is then the\nprinciple of \"Association,\" or \"Grouping,\" by which the imagination is\ncultivated, and the memory is assisted;--and there is, lastly, the\nprinciple of \"Classification,\" or \"Analysis,\" by which all knowledge\nwhen received is regularly classified according to its nature; by which\nmeans the memory is relieved, the whole is kept in due order, and\nremains constantly at the command of the will.--These four principles,\nso far as we have yet been able to investigate the processes of Nature,\nare the chief, if not the only, means which she employs in assisting and\ninducing the pupil to acquire knowledge; and which of course ought to be\nemployed in a similar way, and in the same order, by the teacher in the\nmanagement of his classes.\n\nThe _third_, and by far the most important series of exercises in\nNature's academy, we have ascertained, by extensive evidence, to be the\ntraining of her pupils to a constant practical application of their\nknowledge to the ordinary affairs of life.--These exercises she has\nseparated into two distinct classes; the one connected with the physical\nand intellectual phenomena of our nature, and which is regulated by what\nwe have termed the \"animal, or common sense;\" and the other connected\nwith our moral nature, and regulated by our \"moral sense,\" or\nconscience. In both of these departments, however, the methods which\nNature employs in guiding to the practical application of the pupil's\nknowledge are precisely the same, consisting of a regular gradation of\nthree distinct steps, or stages. These steps we have found to follow\neach other in the following order. There is always first, some\nfundamental truth, or idea--some definite part of our knowledge of which\nuse is to be made;--there is next an inference, or lesson, drawn from\nthat idea, or truth;--and there is, lastly, a practical application of\nthat lesson, or inference, to the present circumstances of the\nindividual. This part of Nature's educational process,--this\napplication, or use of knowledge, we have ascertained and proved to be\nthe great object which Nature designs by _all her previous efforts_.\nThis part of her work, when completed, forms in fact the great Temple of\nEducation,--all the others were but the scaffolding by which it was to\nbe reared.--This is the end; those were but means employed for attaining\nit. In proof of this important fact we have seen, that when this object\nis successfully gained, all the previous steps have been homologated and\nconfirmed; whereas, whenever this crowning operation is awanting, all\nthe preceding labour of the pupil becomes useless and vain, his\nknowledge gradually melts from the memory, and is ultimately lost.\n\nThe _fourth_, or supplementary process in this educational course as\nconducted by Nature, we found to consist in the training of her pupils\nto an ability to communicate with ease and fluency to others the\nknowledge and experience which they themselves had acquired.--This\nability, as we have shewn, is not instinctive, but is in every instance\nthe result of education. It is not always the accompaniment of great\nmental capacity; nor is it always at the command of those who have\nacquired extensive knowledge. Persons highly gifted in both respects,\nare often greatly deficient in readiness of utterance, and freedom of\nspeech. On careful investigation we have seen, that it is attained only\nby practice, and by one simple exercise of the mental powers, in which\nthe thoughts are engaged with one set of ideas, at the same moment that\nthe voice is giving expression to others. This faculty has been found to\nbe eminently social and benevolent, and intended, not so much for the\nbenefit of the individual himself as for the benefit of society. Nature,\naccordingly, constrains mankind to do homage to eloquence when it is\nemployed for others, or for the public;--but strongly induces them to\nlook with pity or contempt on the person who is always speaking of or\nfor himself. These facts accordingly have led us to the important\nconclusion, that learning and the possession of knowledge are not\nintended merely for the person himself, but for the good of society; and\ntherefore, that education in every community ought to be conducted in\nsuch a manner, that the attainments of each individual in it, shall\neither directly or indirectly benefit the whole.\n\nIn these several departments of our mental constitution, and in the\nprinciples or laws by which they are carried on, we have the great\nthoroughfare,--the highway of education,--marked out, inclosed, and\nlevelled by Nature herself. Hitherto, in our examination of the several\nprocesses in which we find her engaged, we have endeavoured strictly to\nconfine ourselves to the great general principles which she exhibits in\nforwarding and perfecting them. We have not touched as yet on the\nmethods by which, in our schools, they may be successfully imitated; nor\nhave we made any enquiry into the particular truths or subjects which\nought there to be taught. These matters belong to another part of this\nTreatise, and will be considered by themselves. And it is only necessary\nhere to observe, that as it is the _use_ of knowledge chiefly which\nNature labours to attain, it is therefore _useful knowledge_ which she\nrequires to be taught. This is a principle so prominently held forth by\nNature, and so repeatedly indicated and enforced, that in the school it\nought never for an hour to be lost sight of. The whole business of the\nseminary must be practical; and the knowledge communicated must be\nuseful, and such as can be put to use. If this rule be attended to, the\nknowledge communicated will be valuable and permanent;--but if it be\nneglected, the pretended communications will soon melt from the memory,\nand the previous labours of both teacher and pupil will be in a great\nmeasure lost.\n\nThe existence of these several principles in education has been\nascertained by long experience and slow degrees;--and the accuracy of\nthe views which we have taken of them, has been rigorously and\nrepeatedly tested. No pains has been spared in projecting and conducting\nsuch experiments as appeared necessary for the purpose; and it has been\nby experience and experiment alone that their efficiency has been\nestablished. Many of these experiments were conducted in public,--some\nof them have for years been in circulation,--and the decisiveness of\ntheir results has never been questioned. The several principles in\neducation which it was the object of these experiments to ascertain, are\nhere for the first time, collected and exhibited in their natural order;\nand they are now presented to the friends of education with some degree\nof confidence. Judging historically, however, from the experience of\nothers in breaking up new ground in the sciences, there is good reason\nto believe, that the present Treatise goes but a short way in\nestablishing the science of education. There is yet much to be done; and\nothers, no doubt, will follow to complete it. But if confidence is to be\nplaced in history, it appears evident, that they must follow in the same\ncourse, if ever they are to succeed. Nature is our only instructress;\nand however much she may have hitherto been neglected, it is only by\nfollowing her leadings with a child-like docility, that improvement is\never to be expected. By so following, however, success is certain. The\nprospects of the science at the present moment, both as to its spread\nand its improvement, are exceedingly cheering. The field, which is now\nbeing opened up for the labours of the Educationist, is extensive and\ninviting; and the anticipations of the philanthropist become the more\ndelightful, on account of the improvements likely to ensue for carrying\non the work. The errors and failings of former attempts will warn, while\nevery new discovery will direct in the labour. The virgin soil has even\nyet in a great measure to be broken up; and if we shall be wise enough\nto employ the implements provided for us by Nature herself, the present\ngeneration may yet witness a rapid and abundant ingathering of blessings\nfor the world. This is neither a hasty nor a groundless speculation.\nThere are already abundant proofs to warrant us in cherishing it.\nNumerous patches of ground have again and again, under serious\ndisadvantages, been partially cultivated; and each and all have\ninvariably succeeded, and produced the first fruits of a ripe, a rich,\nand an increasing harvest.\n\n\n\n\nPART III.\n\nON THE METHODS BY WHICH THE EDUCATIONAL PROCESSES OF NATURE MAY BE\nSUCCESSFULLY IMITATED.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. I.\n\n_On the Exercises by which Nature may be imitated in cultivating the\nPowers of the Mind._\n\n\nIn the educational processes of Nature, her first object appears to be\nthe cultivation of her pupil's mind; and this, therefore, ought also to\nbe the first concern of the parent and teacher.--The wisdom of this\narrangement is obvious. For as success in a great measure depends upon\nthe vigour and extent of those powers, their early cultivation will\nrender the succeeding exercises easy and pleasant, and will greatly\nabridge the anxiety and labour of both teacher and scholar.\n\nThere is no doubt a great diversity in the natural capacities of\nchildren; and phrenology, as well as daily experience shews, that\nchildren who are apt in learning one thing, may be exceedingly dull and\nbackward in acquiring others. But after making every allowance for this\nvariety in the intellectual powers of children, it is well established\nby experience, and repeated experiments have confirmed the fact,[9] that\nthe very dullest and most obtuse of the children found in any of our\nschools, are really capable of rapid cultivation, and may, by the use of\nproper means, be very soon brought to bear their part in the usual\nexercises fitted for the ordinary children. A large proportion of the\ndulness so frequently complained of by teachers arises, not so much from\nany natural defect, or inherent mental weakness in the child, as from\nthe want of that early mental exercise,--real mental culture,--of which\nwe are here speaking. Whenever this dulness in a sane scholar continues\nfor any length of time, there is good reason to fear that it is owing to\nsome palpable mismanagement on the part of the parent or teacher. On\nexamination it will most likely be found, either that the pupil has had\nexercises prescribed to him which the powers of his mind were as yet\nincapable of accomplishing; or, if the exercises themselves have been\nsuitable, there has been more prescribed than he was able to overtake.\nIn either case the effect will be the same. The mind has been\nunnaturally burdened, or overstretched; confusion of ideas and mental\nweakness have been the consequence; and if so, the very attempt to keep\nup with his companions in the class only tends to aggravate the evil.\nHence arises the propriety of following Nature in making the expansion\nand cultivation of the powers of the mind our first object; and our\ndesign in the present chapter is to examine into the means by which, in\nthe exercises of the school, she may be successfully imitated in the\noperations which she employs for this purpose.\n\nWe have in our previous investigations seen, that the cultivation of the\nmental powers is a work of extraordinary simplicity, depending entirely\nupon one act of the mind,--the reiteration of ideas. We have proved, by\na variety of familiar instances, that wherever this act takes place, the\nmind is, and must be exercised, and so far strengthened; while, on the\ncontrary, wherever it does not take place, there is neither mental\nexercise, nor any perceptible accession of mental strength. It does not\ndepend upon the particular form of the exercise, whether it consists of\nreading, hearing, writing, or speaking; but simply and entirely upon\nthe reality and the frequency of the reiteration of the included ideas\nduring it. This makes the cultivation and strengthening of the powers of\nthe mind a very simple and a very certain operation. For if the teacher\ncan succeed by any means in producing frequent and successive\nrepetitions of _this act_ of the mind in any of his pupils, Nature will\nbe true to her own law, and mental culture, and mental strength will\nassuredly follow;--but, on the contrary, whenever in a school exercise\nthis act is awanting, there can be no permanent progression in the\neducation of the pupil, and no amelioration in the state of his mind.\nThe mechanical reading or repeating of words, for example, like the\nfingering of musical instruments, may be performed for months or years\nsuccessively, without the powers of the mind being actively engaged in\nthe process at all; leaving the child without mental exercise, and\nconsequently without improvement.\n\nIn following out the only legitimate plan for the accomplishment of this\nfundamental object, that of imitating Nature, the first thing required\nby the teacher is an exercise, or series of exercises, by which he shall\nbe able _at his own will_ to enforce upon his pupils this important act\nof the mind. If this object can be successfully attained, then the\nproper means for the intellectual improvement of the child are secured;\nbut as long as it is awanting, his mental cultivation is either left to\nchance, or to the capricious decision of his own will;--for experience\nshews, that although a child may be compelled to read, or to repeat the\n_words_ of his exercises, they contain no power by which the teacher can\nensure the reiteration of the _ideas_ they contain. The words may\ncorrectly and fluently pass from the tongue, while the mind is actively\nengaged upon something else, and as much beyond the reach of the teacher\nas ever. But if the desiderated exercise could be procured, the power of\nenforcing mental activity upon a prescribed subject would then remain,\nnot in the possession of the child, but would be transferred to the\nteacher, at whose pleasure the mental cultivation of the pupil would\nproceed, whether he himself willed it or no.\n\nIn the \"catechetical exercise,\" as it has been called, and which has of\nlate years been extensively used by our best teachers, the desideratum\nabove described has been most happily and effectively supplied to the\nEducationist. This valuable exercise may not perhaps be new;--but\ncertainly its nature, and its importance in education, till of late\nyears, has been altogether overlooked, or unknown. It differs from the\nformer mode of catechising, (or rather of using catechisms) in this,\nthat whereas a catechism provides an answer for the child in a set form\nof words,--the catechetical exercise, having first _provided him with\nthe means_, compels him to search for, to select, and to construct an\nanswer for himself. For example, an announcement is given by his\nteacher, or it is read from his book. This is the raw material upon\nwhich both the teacher and the child are to work, and within the\nboundaries of which the teacher especially must strictly confine\nhimself. Upon this announcement a question is founded,[10] which obliges\nthe child, before he can even prepare an answer, to reiterate in his own\nmind, not the _words_,--for that would not answer his purpose,--but the\nseveral _ideas_ contained in the sentence or truth announced. All these\nideas must be perceived,--they must pass in review before the mind,--and\nfrom among them he must select the one required, arrange it in his own\nway, and give it to the teacher entirely as his own idea, and clothed\naltogether in his own words.\n\nIn the common method of making use of catechisms, the words of the\nanswer may be read, or they may be committed to memory, and may be\nrepeated with ease and fluency; while the ideas,--the truths they\ncontain,--may neither be perceived nor reiterated. In this there is\nneither mental exercise, nor mental improvement;--and, what is worse,\nwithout the catechetical exercise, the teacher has no means of knowing\nwhether it be so or not. By means of the catechetical exercise, on the\ncontrary, there can be no evasion,--no doubt as to the mental activity\nof the pupil, and his consequent mental improvement. Its benefits are\nvery extensive; and in employing it the teacher is not only sure that\nthe ideas in the announcement have been perceived and reiterated, but\nthat a numerous train of useful mental operations must have taken place,\nbefore his pupil could by any possibility return him an answer to his\nquestions. We shall, before proceeding, point out a few of these.\n\nLet us then suppose that a child either reads, or repeats as the answer\nto a question, the words, \"Jesus died for sinners.\"--At this point in\nthe former mode of using a catechism, the exercise of the pupil stopped;\nand the parent or teacher understanding the meaning of the sentence, and\nclearly perceiving the ideas himself, usually took it for granted that\nthe child also did so, or at least at some future time would do so. This\nwas mere conjecture; and he had no means of ascertaining its certainty,\nhowever important. It is at this point that the catechetical exercise\ncommences its operations. When the child has repeated the words, or when\nthe teacher for the first time announces them, the mind of the child may\nbe in a state very unfavourable to its improvement; but as soon as the\nteacher asks him a question founded upon one or more of the ideas which\nthe announcement contains, and which he must answer without farther\nhelp, the state of his mind is instantly and materially changed.\nHitherto he may have been altogether passive on the subject;--nay, his\nmind while reading or repeating the words, may have been busily engaged\non something else, or altogether occupied with his companions or his\nplay;--but as soon as the teacher asks him \"Who died?\" there is an\ninstant withdrawal of the mind from every thing else, and an exclusive\nconcentration of its powers upon the ideas in the announcement. He must\nthink,--and he must think in a certain way, and upon the specific ideas\npresented to him by the teacher,--before it is possible for him to\nreturn an answer. It is on this account that this exercise is so\neffective an instrument in cultivating the powers of the mind;--and it\nis to the long series of exercises which take place in this operation,\nthat we are now calling the attention of the reader, that he may\nperceive how closely this exercise follows in the line prescribed by\nNature, in creating occasions for the successive reiteration of\ndifferent ideas suggested by one question.\n\nWhen, in pursuing the catechetical exercise, a question is asked from an\nannouncement, there is first a call upon the attention, and an exercise\nof mind upon the _question_ asked, the words of which must be translated\nby the pupil into their proper ideas, which accordingly he must both\nperceive and understand. He has then to revert to the _ideas_ (not the\nwords) contained in the original announcement, the words of which are\nperhaps still ringing in his ears; and these he must also perceive and\nreiterate in his mind, before he can either understand them or prepare\nto give an answer. At this point the child is necessarily in possession\nof the ideas--the truths--conveyed by the announcement; and therefore at\nthis point one great end of the teacher has in so far been gained. But\nthe full benefit of the exercise, in so far as it is capable of fixing\nthese truths still more permanently on the memory, and of disciplining\nthe mind, has not yet been exhausted. After the pupil has reiterated in\nhis mind the ideas contained in the original sentence, or passage\nannounced, he has again to revert to the question of the teacher, and\ncompare it with the several ideas which the announcement contains. He\nhas then to chuse from among them,--all of them being still held in\nreview by the mind,--the particular idea to which his attention has been\ncalled by the question;--and last of all, and which is by no means the\nleast as a mental exercise, he has to clothe this particular idea in\nwords, and construct his sentence in such a way as to make it both sense\nand grammar. In this last effort, it is worthy of remark, children,\nafter having been but a short while subjected to this exercise, almost\ninvariably succeed, although they know nothing about grammar, and may\nperhaps never have heard of the name.\n\nBut even this is not all. There has as yet been only one question asked,\nand the answer to this question refers to only one idea contained in the\nannouncement. But it embraces at least three several ideas; and each of\nthese ideas, by the catechetical exercise, is capable of originating\nother questions, perfectly distinct from each other, and each of which\ngives rise to a similar mental process, and with equally beneficial\nresults, in exercising and strengthening the powers of the mind.\n\nIt is also here of importance to take notice of the additional benefits\nthat arise from the multiplying of questions upon one announcement. The\nfirst question proposed from the announcement, brought the mind of the\nchild into immediate contact with all the ideas which it contained. They\nare now therefore familiar to him; and he is perfectly prepared for the\nsecond, and for every succeeding question formed upon it; and he\nfashions the answers with readiness and zest. Every such answer is a\nkind of triumph to the child, which he gives with ease and pleasure, and\nyet every one of them, as an exercise of the mind, is equally beneficial\nas the first. When the teacher therefore asks, \"What did Jesus do?\" and\nafterwards, \"For whom did Jesus die?\" a little reflection will at once\nshew, that a similar mental exercise must take place at each question,\nin which the child has not only to reiterate the several original\nideas, but must again and again compare the questions asked, with each\none of them, choose out the one required, clothe it in his own language,\nand in this form repeat it audibly to his teacher.\n\nBefore leaving this enquiry into the nature and effects of the\ncatechetical exercise, there are two circumstances connected with it as\na school-engine, which deserve particular attention. The first is, that\nNature has made this same reiteration of ideas, for the securing of\nwhich this exercise is used, the chief means of conveying knowledge to\nthe mind; and the second is, the undissembled delight which children\nexhibit while under its influence, wherever it is naturally and\njudiciously conducted. With respect to the former of these\ncircumstances, it falls more particularly to be considered in another\nchapter, and under a following head; but with respect to the\nlatter,--the delight felt in the exercise by the children\nthemselves,--it deserves here a more close examination.\n\nEvery one who has paid any attention to the subject must have observed\nthe life, the energy, the enjoyment, which are observable in a class of\nchildren, while they are under the influence, and subjected to the\ndiscipline of the catechetical exercise. This will perhaps be still more\nremarkable, if ever they have had an opportunity of contrasting this\nlively scene with the death-like monotony of a school where the exercise\nis as yet unknown. Many can yet remember instances when it was first\nintroduced into some of the Sabbath schools in Scotland, and the\nastonishment of the teachers at its instantaneous effects upon the mind\nand conduct of their children. The whole aspect of the school was\nchanged; and the children, who had but a few minutes before been\nconspicuous only for their apathy, restlessness, or inattention, were\ninstantly aroused to life, and energy, and delight. Similar effects in\nsome children are still witnessed; but, happily for education, the\nfirst exhibition of it to a whole school is not so common. One striking\nproof of the novelty and extent of its effects upon the pupils, and of\nthe vivid contrast it produced with that to which the teachers had at\nthat time been accustomed, is afforded by the fact, that serious\nobjections were sometimes made to its introduction, by well-meaning\nindividuals, on account of its breaking in, as they said, upon the\nproper devotional solemnity of the children;--as if the apathy of\nlanguor and weariness was identical with reverence, and mental energy\nand joyous feelings were incompatible with the liveliest devotion. These\nopinions have now happily disappeared; and the catechetical exercise is\nnot now, on that account, so frequently opposed. Christians now\nperceive, that by making these rough places smooth, and the crooked ways\nstraight for the tottering feet of the lambs of the flock, they are\nfollowing the best, as it is the appointed means, of \"making ready a\npeople prepared for the Lord.\"\n\nTo the teacher, especially, it must be a matter of great practical\nimportance, to perceive clearly the cause why this exercise is so\nfascinating to the young, as well as so beneficial in education. The\ncause, when we analyze all the circumstances, is simply this, that it\nresembles, in all its leading characteristics, those amusements and\npastimes of which children are so fond. In other words, the prosecution\nof the catechetical exercise with the young, produces in reality the\nsame effects as a game would do if played with their teacher. It brings\ninto action, and it keeps in lively operation, all those mental\nelements, which, in ordinary cases, constitute their play; and the\neffects of course are nearly similar. We shall direct the reader's\nattention to this curious fact for a moment.\n\nIt is easy to perceive, that the pleasure and happiness experienced by a\nchild during his play, arise altogether from the _state of his mind_, to\nwhich the physical exercises and amusements only conduce. When this\nmental satisfaction is examined, we find it to consist chiefly of two\nelements,--that of active thought, and that of self-approbation. The\nfirst,--that of active thought, or the reiteration of ideas, we have\nbefore pointed out and explained, as it is illustrated in their play,\nand in the pleasure they take in hearing stories, reading riddles,\ndressing dolls, and similar acts; and it is only here necessary to add,\nthat their desire of congregating together for amusement has its origin\nin a similar cause. New ideas stimulate more powerfully to active\nthought; and children soon find, and insensibly draw the lesson, that\nthe aggregate of new ideas is always enlarged by an increase of the\nnumber of persons who supply them. Two children will play with the same\nnumber of toys for a longer time, without tiring, than if they were\nalone;--and three or four would, in the same proportion, increase the\ninterest and prolong the season of activity. But as soon as the\nreiteration of the ideas suggested by their game becomes languid or\ndifficult, their play for the time loses its charms, and the fascination\nis gone. That it is the cessation of active thought, which is the chief\ncause of their play ceasing to please, is proved from the circumstance,\nthat if another interesting companion shall be added to their number, or\nif any thing shall occur to renew this operation,--the reiteration of\nideas,--upon the mind, the same degree of interest, and to a\ncorresponding extent, is immediately felt, and the play is resumed. Now,\nthe catechetical exercise is in reality the same operation in another\nform. The questions of the teacher excite the pupil to the same kind of\nactive thought as that which gives relish to his play; and, while the\nteacher confines himself within the limits of the announcement, the\nmental excitement is active, but moderate, and always successful.\n\nThis leads us to observe the influence which the catechetical exercise\nexerts in affording means for that self-approbation, or sense of merit,\nwhich constitutes another element of delight to a child during his play.\nAll must have observed the beneficial effects of this principle in\nchildren, as an incitement to emulation and good conduct. It is not only\nperceptible in the love of approbation from their superiors, but in\ntheir desire to excel at all times. We see it in the pleasure felt by\nthe child when he outstrips his fellows in the race,--when he catches\nhis companion at \"hide and seek,\"--when he finds the hidden article at\n\"seek and find,\"--in winning a game, expounding a riddle, or gaining a\nplace in his class. In all these instances there is a feeling of pure\nsatisfaction and delight;--a feeling of self-estimation, which is at\nonce the guardian and the reward of virtue. Now, when the catechetical\nexercise is conducted in its purity,--that is, when the teacher keeps\nstrictly to the announcement, without wandering where the child cannot\nfollow him,--the answers are invariably within the limits of the child's\ncapacity;--they are answered successfully; and every answer is a subject\nof triumph. He has a delightful consciousness of having overcome a\ndifficulty, deserved approbation, and made an advance in the pathway of\nmerit. When properly conducted, therefore, the catechetical exercise\nbecomes to the pupils a succession of victories; and it imparts all that\ndelight, softened and purified, which he experiences in excelling his\ncompanion, or in winning a game.--These are the reasons why the\ncatechetical exercise is so much relished by the young, and why it has\nsucceeded so powerfully, not only in smoothing the pathway of education,\nbut also in shortening it.\n\nFrom a careful consideration of all these circumstances, we are led to\nconclude, that the catechetical exercise does, in a superior degree,\nfulfil all the stipulations required for imitating Nature, in exciting\nto the reiteration of ideas by children, and thus disciplining and\ncultivating the powers of their minds. We might also have remarked,\nthat another advantage arising from persevering in this exercise, is the\narresting of the attention of the children, and successfully training\nthem to hear and understand through life the oral communications of\nothers;--but we hasten to consider the time and the order in which this\nexercise should be made use of in schools.\n\nNature intends, that the cultivation and strengthening of the powers of\nthe mind shall in every case precede those exercises in which their\nstrength is to be tried. In infants and young children we perceive this\ncultivation and invigorating of the mind going on, long before these\npowers are to be taxed even for their own preservation. The child is no\ndoubt putting them to use; but in every such case it is voluntary, and\nnot compulsory,--a matter of choice on the part of the child, and not of\nnecessity. The infant, or even the child, is never required to take care\nof itself, to clothe itself, to wash itself, or even to feed itself. To\nrequire it to do so before the mind could comprehend the nature and the\ndesign of the particular duty, would be both unreasonable and cruel.\nThis being the case, the exercises of the nursery and the school must be\nregulated in a similar manner, and follow the same law. The due\ncultivation of the mind, like the due preparation of the soil, must\nalways precede the sowing of the seed. If this principle in Nature be\nduly attended to, the seeds of knowledge afterwards cast into the soil\nthus broken up and prepared, will be readily received and nourished to\nperfection; but if the soil be neglected, both the seed and the labour\nwill be lost, the anticipations of the spring and summer will end in\ndelusion, and the folly of the whole proceeding will be shewn by a\nsuccession of noxious weeds, and at last by an unproductive harvest.\n\nThe evils which must necessarily result from thus running counter to\nNature in this first part of her educational proceedings, may be aptly\nillustrated by the very common custom of beginning a child's education\nby teaching it to read. It would perhaps be difficult to convince many\nthat this custom is either unnatural or improper. We shall not attempt\nhere to _argue_ the matter, but shall merely state a fact which they\ncannot deny, and which will answer the purpose we think much better than\nan argument.--To teach the art of reading was wont to require the labour\nof several months, sometimes years, before the perusal of a book could\nbe managed by the child with any degree of ease,--and even then, without\nany thing approaching to satisfaction or pleasure. And even yet,\nalthough the error has in some measure been perceived of late years, yet\nthe art of reading by the young, still requires several months'\nattendance at school, with corresponding labour to the teacher, and\ngreat irritation and unhappiness to the child. But experience has\nestablished the fact, that, by acting on the principle of previous\npreparation which we are here enforcing, and by calling into operation\nthe principle of individuation formerly explained, the whole drudgery of\nteaching a child to read is got over in a week,--sometimes in a day; and\nthis with much more ease and satisfaction, than could have been done by\na thousand lessons while his mind was unprepared.[11]\n\nThe accumulation of labour, and the loss of precious time by this\nnon-observance of the dictates of Nature, are in themselves serious\nevils; but they are not by any means so great as some others which\nalmost invariably accompany this unnatural mode of proceeding with the\nyoung. Many who have nominally been _taught to read_, are still quite\nunable to _understand by reading_. Those who have heard chapters read by\nfamilies in the country, \"verse about,\" will at once understand what we\nhere mean; and even in towns and cities where newspapers and low-priced\nbooks are more numerous and more tempting, it often requires long\npractice before the emancipated child can read these publications so\nreadily and intelligently as they are intended to be. It is another, and\nan entirely different course of learning to which he subjects himself,\nwhen he labours to acquire the capacity of understanding the words that\nhe _reads_, as readily as the words that he _hears_. Where the\ninducements to this are sufficiently powerful, the ability is no doubt\n_at last_ acquired;--but where these stimulants are awanting, the\ndifficulty of understanding by reading has by the previous habit become\nso great, that reading is gradually disused, and at last forgotten.\n\nMany are at a loss to account for this; but it is easily explained on\nthe above principles. To teach a child to read, before his mind is\ncapable of understanding, or of reiterating the ideas conveyed by the\nwords he is reading, is to train him to this habit of reading\nmechanically;--that is, of reading without understanding. He gradually\nacquires the habit of pronouncing the words which he traces with the\neye, while the mind is busily engaged upon something else; in the same\nmanner that a person acquires the habit of thinking, and even of\nspeaking, while knitting a stocking, or sewing a seam. This habit is\nconfirmed by constant practice; and then, the difficulty of getting off\nthe habit is all but insurmountable. This difficulty will be best\nunderstood by the experience of those who have been during some time of\ntheir life compelled to abandon a habit after it was thoroughly\nconfirmed;--or by those who will but try the difficulty of persevering\nto do something with the left hand, which has hitherto been done with\nthe right. A very little consideration will shew, that when this habit\nof reading mechanically has once been established, it will require, like\nan improper mode of holding the pen in writing, ten-fold more labour and\nself-denial to _remedy_ the evil, than it would have taken at first to\n_prevent_ it, by learning to do the thing properly and perfectly.\n\nMuch therefore depends upon the early and persevering use of the\ncatechetical exercise for cultivating a child's mind, before beginning\nto teach it the art of reading, or requiring it to make use of the\npowers of the mind on subjects which these powers are as yet incapable\nof comprehending. By proper _preliminary_ exercises, the powers of the\nmind will be gradually expanded; ideas of every different kind, both\nindividually and in connection with each other, will become familiar;\nthe design of language in receiving and communicating truth will by\ndegrees be practically understood; and, by means of the catechetical\nexercise, it will be gradually and successfully practised. These are\nobviously the means by which the present crooked ways in the child's\nearly progress in education are to be made straight, and the rough and\ndifficult paths which he has had so long to tread, may now be made both\neasy and smooth.[12]\n\nThe effects of the catechetical exercise, and its uniform beneficial\nresults, have given sufficient evidence of its being a close imitation\nof Nature in this part of her educational process. Its success indeed\nhas been invariable, even when employed by those who remained\nunconscious of the great principles by which that success was to be\nregulated. The observations and experiments employed to ascertain in\nsome measure the extent of its efficiency, have uniformly been\nsatisfactory, and to a few of these we shall here very shortly advert.\n\nThe first case of importance, which came under our notice, and to which\nwe think it advisable to allude, is that of Mary L. who, about the year\n1820, resided in Lady Yester's parish in Edinburgh. This girl, when her\nname was taken up for the Local Sabbath Schools in that parish, was\nabout seven or eight years of age, and in respect to mental capacity,\nappeared to be little better than an idiot. She could not comprehend the\nmost simple idea, if it related to any thing beyond the household\nobjects which were daily forced upon her observation, and which had\nindividually become familiar to the senses; and was unable to receive\nany instruction with the other children, however young. The catechetical\nexercise was adopted with her, as with the other scholars; and although,\nfor a long period, she was unable to _collect knowledge_, yet the\nconstant discipline to which the powers of the mind were thus subjected,\nhad the happiest effect in bringing them into tone, and at last giving\nher the command of them. The comprehending of a simple truth when\nannounced, became more and more distinct, and the answering of the\ncorresponding questions, became gradually more correct and easy. At a\nvery early period she began to relish the exercises of the school; and\nalthough these occurred only on the Sundays, she continued rapidly to\nimprove; till, in the course of a few years, she was able to join the\nhigher classes of the children, and made a respectable appearance among\nher companions, at those times when they were submitted to\nexamination.--When these schools were broken up, no stranger could have\nremarked any difference between Mary L. and an ordinary child of the\nsame age.\n\nA similar instance occurred more recently in the case of two sisters,\n(Margaret and Mary J.) the condition of whose minds originally was\nbetter, although not much, than that of Mary L. At the respective ages\nof six and eight years, these sisters could scarcely receive or\ncomprehend the simplest idea not connected with their daily ordinary\naffairs. For some years they had no more teaching, or regular mental\nexercise, than two hours weekly on the Sundays, and during that period\nthey were, in regard to mental capacity, advancing, but still nearly\nalike. The eldest (Margaret,) was then removed to another class, the\nteacher of which dedicated another evening during the week for the\nbenefit of her scholars. The consequence of this apparently slight\naddition to the mental exercise of this girl soon became apparent; and\nin the course of a short time, the powers of Margaret's mind not only\nadvanced beyond those of her sister's, but equalled at least those of\nchildren of the same age, who had not enjoyed similar opportunities of\nimprovement. Her sister Mary, who continued to enjoy only the two hours\non Sunday, advanced proportionally in mental strength;--and before she\nleft the district in which the school was situated, her original\nincapacity could scarcely have been credited by a stranger. In proof of\nthis, it may be added, that long after she had left the parish, the\nwriter found her by accident in the school which she attended after\nremoving, examined her with the other children, and made some strict and\nsearching enquiries concerning her. The report of her teacher was\nexceedingly satisfactory; and, without knowing the reason of these\nenquiries, declared, that Mary J. was one of her best scholars. Before\nleaving this notice of these two children, there is a circumstance which\nmay perhaps be worthy of recording. In Margaret's countenance there had\ngradually appeared, latterly, that which to a stranger gave all the\nordinary indications of intellect, and rather superior intelligence;\nwhile in Mary's case, at the same period, there continued to be much of\nthat vacancy of look, and stupid stare, indicative rather of what she\nwas, than of what she had become. That also, however, was gradually\ndisappearing.\n\nWe shall advert only to one other instance, less remarkable perhaps, and\ncertainly not so decisive, on account of the shortness of the time\nduring which the experiment was continued. In the opinion of the\nhonourable and venerable examinators, however, it was considered as\nsufficiently decisive, and of much public importance. Its application to\nprison discipline may ultimately be of value, where prisoners are\nconfined but for short periods, and where the cultivation of the mind,\nand the growing capacity to receive and retain religious truth are\nobjects of importance.\n\nIn the experiment in 1828, made before the Lord Provost, Principal,\nProfessors, and Clergymen of Edinburgh, in the County Jail, a class of\ncriminals which had been formed three weeks before, and exercised one\nhour daily, were thoroughly and individually examined without\nintermission during nearly three hours. Our present extract from the\nReport of that Experiment refers, not to the amount of knowledge\nacquired by these persons during these three weeks, but to the capacity\nwhich, at the end of that time, they were found to possess of acquiring\nevery sort of knowledge. This experiment was so far imperfect, as the\nExaminators had no means of ascertaining the true state of their minds,\nprevious to the commencement of their exercises. But having, upon\nenquiry found from the governor of the prison, that there had been no\nselection, that all the individuals in the ward had been taken, and that\nat the commencement of the experiment, they formed a fair sample of the\nprisoners commonly under his charge,--the progress of this mental\ncultivation during that short period, became a special object of\nexamination by the Reverend and learned individuals who conducted it.\nTheir Report of the Experiment bears, that \"these individuals had been\ntaken without any regard to their abilities, and former acquirements,\nand formed a fair average of the usual prisoners.\" In endeavouring to\nascertain the grasp of mind which these individuals possessed, and the\nreadiness with which they received and retained whatever was, even for\nthe first time, communicated to them, \"it was mentioned, that a\ngentlemen on the previous day, in order to try the capacity of mind\nwhich they had attained, desired Mr Gall to catechise them upon a\nsection, consisting of fourteen verses, which they had not seen before,\nand that, after just ten minutes' examination, one woman, who could not\nread, repeated the whole distinctly in her own words. Dr Brunton\nproposed, for a similar experiment, the parable of the 'talents,' with\nwhich none was acquainted except one woman, who was consequently not\npermitted to answer. With its being only read to them, and with a few\nminutes' catechising, they perceived its various circumstances, and were\nable to enumerate them in detail. This exercise demonstrated the\ncapacity of attention, and the power of analyzing and laying hold of\ncircumstances, which they had reached, as well as the indisputable\nsuperiority of this System, in unfolding and strengthening the mental\nfaculties, even in adults.\"\n\n\"The writer of the Report,\" it is added, \"was not acquainted with the\nextent of their acquirements when Mr Gall commenced his operations; but\njudging from the examination, and from his knowledge of the contents of\nthe books taught, he has no hesitation in averring, that the answers\nwhich they gave, arose entirely from information communicated by them.\nAnd when he reflects that their answers, being clothed in their own\nwords, guaranteed the fact, that it was _the ideas_ upon which they had\nseized, and that their knowledge participated in no degree of rote, the\nconviction to his mind is irresistible, that the universal application\nof the Lesson System to Prison Discipline, and to adults everywhere,\nwould be followed by effects, incalculably precious to the individuals\nthemselves, and to the improving of society in general.\"\n\nNumerous other instances might be adduced in proof of the efficiency of\nthis method of attempting to imitate Nature in this first part of her\neducational process, who will always be faithful in adhering to her own\nlaws, and countenancing her own work. These however may suffice;--and it\nought not to escape observation, that in two of the cases first alluded\nto, the young persons enjoyed only two hours' instruction in the week,\nand these not divided, but continuously given at one time. For this\nreason, it might have been feared, that the benefits then received would\nhave been lost, or neutralized, by the variety of objects or amusements\nwhich must have intervened during the week between the lessons. But it\nwas not so. And we may here remark, that if with all these\ndisadvantages, so much good was really done in cultivating the powers of\nthe mind by this exercise, what may we not expect by the enlightened,\nregular, and daily application of the same powerful principles in our\nordinary schools, when the teacher shall know where the virtue of the\nweapon which he wields really lies, and when the nature of the material\nhe is called to work upon is also better understood. Every exercise and\nevery operation in the school will then be made to \"tell;\" and every\nmoment of the pupils' attendance will be improved. In these\ncircumstances, we are far within the limits of the truth when we say,\nthat more real substantial education will then be communicated in one\nmonth, than it has been usual to receive by the labours of a whole year.\n\nFrom what has been already ascertained, we are fully warranted in making\nthe following remarks.\n\n1. From the above facts we can readily ascertain the cause, why some\nexercises employed in education are so much relished by the young, and\nso efficient in giving strength and elasticity to the mind; while\nothers, on the contrary are so inefficient, so irksome, and sometimes so\nintolerable. Every exercise that tends to produce active thought,--the\n\"reiteration of ideas,\"--is natural, and therefore, not only promotes\nhealthful mental vigour, but is also exciting and delightful; while, on\nthe contrary, whenever the mind is fettered by the mere decyphering of\nwords, or the repeating of sounds, without reiterating ideas, the\nexercise is altogether unnatural, and must of course be irritating to\nthe child, and barren of good.\n\n2. By a due consideration of the above principles, we see the reason why\nmental arithmetic, though it may not communicate any knowledge, is yet\nproductive of considerable mental vigour. These exercises compel the\nyoung to a species of voluntary thought, the reiteration in the mind of\nthe powers of numbers; and although the result of the particular\ncalculations which are then made, may never again be of any service to\nthe pupil, yet the consequent exercise of mind is beneficial. It should\nnever be forgotten, however, that this exercise of mind upon _numbers_\nis altogether an artificial operation, and is on this account, neither\nso efficient nor so pleasant as the reiteration of moral or physical\ntruths. The same degree of mental exercise, brought into operation upon\nsome useful fact, where the imagination as well as the understanding,\ncan take a part, would at once be more natural, more efficient, more\npleasant, and more useful.\n\n3. From the nature and operation of the above principle, also, we can\nperceive in what the efficiency of Pestalozzi's \"Exercises on Objects,\"\nconsists.--When a child is required to tell you the colour and the\nconsistence of milk, qualities which have all along been familiar to\nhim, it conveys to him no knowledge; but it excites to observation and\nactive thought,--to the \"reiteration of ideas;\"--and for this reason it\nis salutary. But it is still equally true, as in the former case, that\nthe same degree of mental exercise, brought into operation upon some\nuseful practical truth, would be at least equally useful as a mental\nstimulant, and much more beneficial as an educational exercise.\n\n4. From the nature of this great fundamental principle in mental\ncultivation, as consisting in the reiteration of ideas, and not of\nwords, we have a key by which we can satisfactorily explain the\nremarkable, and hitherto unaccountable fact, that many persons who, in\nyouth and at school, have been ranked among the dullest scholars, have\nafterwards become the greatest men. An active mind, in exact proportion\nto its vigour, will powerfully struggle against the unnatural thraldom\nof mere mechanical verbal exercises. The mind in a healthful state will\nnot be satisfied with words, which are but the medium of ideas, because\nideas alone are the natural food of the mind. Till the powers of the\nmind, therefore, are sufficiently enfeebled by time and perseverance, it\nwill struggle with its fetters, and it will be repressed only by\ncoercion. Minds naturally weak, or gradually subdued, may and do submit\nto this artificial bondage,--this unnatural drudgery; but the vigorous\nand powerful mind, under favourable circumstances, spurns the trammels,\nand continues to struggle on. It may be a protracted warfare,--but it\nmust at last come to a close; and it is not till the pupil has emerged\nfrom this mental dungeon, and has had these galling fetters fairly\nknocked off, that the natural elasticity and strength of his mind find\nthemselves at freedom, with sufficient room and liberty to act. The\nimpetus then received, and the delight in the mental independence then\nfelt, have frequently led to the brightest results. Hence it is, that\nthe reputed dunce of the school, has not unfrequently become the\nornament of the senate.\n\nLastly, we would remark, that from the facts here enumerated, we derive\na good test by which to try every new exercise proposed for training the\nyoung, and for cultivating the powers of the mind. If the exercise\nrecommended compels the child to active thought,--to the voluntary\nexercise of his own mind upon useful ideas,--that exercise, whatever be\nits form, will, to that extent at least, be beneficial. And if, at the\nsame time, it can be associated with the acquisition of knowledge, with\nthe application of knowledge, or with the ready communication of\nknowledge,--all of which, as we have seen, are concomitants in Nature's\nprocess,--it will, in an equal degree, be valuable and worthy of\nadoption. But if, on the contrary, the exercise may be performed without\nthe necessity of voluntary thought, or the reiteration of ideas by the\nmind, however plausible or imposing it may appear, it is next to\ncertain, that although such an exercise may be sufficiently burdensome\nto the child, and cause much labour and anxiety to the teacher, it will\nmost assuredly be at least useless, if not injurious.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[9] See the Fifth Public Experiment in Education, conducted before Sir\nThomas Kirkpatrick, and the clergy and teachers of Dumfries, in the\nmonth of October 1833.\n\n[10] Note K.\n\n[11] Note H.\n\n[12] For the methods of employing this exercise and the books best\nadapted for it, see Note I.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. II.\n\n_On the Methods by which Nature may be imitated in the Pupil's\nAcquisition of Knowledge; with a Review of the Analogy between the\nMental and Physical Appetites of the Young._\n\n\nThe second step in the progress of Nature's pupil is the acquisition of\nknowledge.--This has always been considered a chief object in every\nsystem of education; and the discovery of the most efficient means by\nwhich it may be accomplished, must be a matter of great importance.\n\nIn our remarks upon this subject in a previous chapter, we have shewn,\nthat Nature in her operations employs four distinct principles for\naccumulating knowledge, for retaining it upon the memory, and for\nkeeping it in readiness for use at the command of the will. There are,\n_First_, the \"reiteration of ideas\" by the mind, without which there can\nbe no knowledge; _Secondly_, the principle of \"Individuation,\" by which\nthe knowledge of objects and truths is acquired one by one; _Thirdly_,\nthe principle of \"Grouping,\" or Association, in which the mind views as\none object, what is really composed of many; and, _Fourthly_, the\nprinciple of \"Analysis,\" or Classification, in which the judgment is\nbrought into exercise, the different portions of our knowledge are\narranged and classified under different heads and branches, and the\nwhole retained in order at the command of the will, when any portion of\nit is required.--Our object now is to consider, what means are within\nthe reach of the parent and the teacher, by which Nature in these\nseveral processes may be successfully imitated, while they endeavour to\ncommunicate the elements of knowledge to the young.\n\nIdeas being the only proper food of the mind, Nature has created in the\nyoung an extraordinary appetite and desire for their possession. There\nis a striking analogy in this respect, between the strengthening of the\nbody by food, and the invigorating of the mind by knowledge; and before\nproceeding to detail the methods by which the parent or the teacher may\nsuccessfully break down and prepare the bread of knowledge for their\npupils in imitation of Nature, it will be of advantage here to consider\nmore particularly some of the circumstances connected with this\ninstructive analogy. By tracing the likeness so conspicuously held out\nto us in this analogy by Nature herself, we shall be greatly assisted in\nevading the bewildering and mystifying influence of prejudice, and the\nreader will be much better prepared to judge of the value of those means\nrecommended for nourishing and strengthening the mind by knowledge, when\nhe finds them to correspond so exactly with similar principles employed\nby Nature for the nourishing and strengthening of the body by food. We\nshall by this means, we hope, be able to detect some of those fallacies\nwhich have long tended to trammel the exertions, and to prevent the\nsuccess of the teacher in his interesting labours.\n\nThe first point of analogy to which we would advert, is the vigour and\nactivity of the mental appetite in the young, which corresponds so\nstrikingly with the frequent and urgent craving of their bodily appetite\nfor food.--The desire of food for the body, and the desire of knowledge\nfor the mind, are alike restless and insatiable in childhood; and a\nsimilar amount of satisfaction and pleasure is the consequence, whenever\nthese desires are prudently gratified. That the desire for knowledge in\nthe young is often weakened, and sometimes destroyed, is but too true;\nbut this is the work of man, not of Nature. It will accordingly be found\non investigation, with but few exceptions, that wherever the general\nappetite of the child, either for mental or bodily food, becomes languid\nor weak, it is either the effect for disease or of some grievous abuse.\n\nAnother point of analogy consists, in the necessity of the personal\nactive co-operation of the child himself in receiving and digesting his\nfood.--There is no such thing in Nature as a child being fed and\nnourished by proxy. His food must be received, digested, and assimilated\nby his own powers, and by the use of his own organs, else he will never\nbe fed. In the same way, the food for his mind can benefit him only in\nso far as he himself is the active agent. He must himself receive,\nreiterate in his own mind, and commit to the keeping of his memory,\nevery idea presented to him by his teacher. No one can do this for\nhim;--he must do it himself. In a family, the parent may provide, dress,\nand communicate the food to the child,--but he can do no more; and\nsimilar is the case with respect to the mental food provided by the\nteacher. He may no doubt select the most appropriate kinds,--he may\nsimplify it,--he may break it down into morsels;--but his pupils, if\nthey are to learn, must learn for themselves. When a pupil, to save\nhimself trouble, tries to evade the learning of a preliminary lesson, or\nwhen the teacher winks at the evasion by performing the exercise for\nhim, it is as absurd as for a parent to eat the child's food, and expect\nat the same time that his boy is to be nourished by it. If the mental\nfood be too strong for the child, something more simple must be provided\nfor him; but to continue to administer knowledge which the pupil does\nnot comprehend, and force the strong mental food of an adult upon the\ntender capacities of a child, is an error of the most mischievous kind.\nIt prevents the mind from acting at all, without which there can be no\nimprovement. The mind must wield its own weapons if ignorance is to be\ndislodged; and if the child is to advance at all, he must overcome the\ndifficulties that lie in his way by the exertion of his own powers. His\nteacher may no doubt direct him as to the best and the easiest way of\naccomplishing his object; but that is all. The pupil must in every case\nperform the exercise for himself.\n\nThis leads us to notice another point of analogy in this case, which is,\nthe necessity of adapting the food to the age and capacities of those\nwho are to receive it.--There is in the mental, as well as in the\nphysical nourishment provided for our race, milk for the weak, as well\nas meat for the strong; and it is necessary in both cases that the kind\nand the quantity be carefully attended to. In the case of the strong,\nthere is less danger; because, with regard both to the mental and bodily\nfood, Nature has so ordered matters, that the food which is best adapted\nfor the weak, will also nourish the strong; but the food adapted for the\nstrong is never suitable, and is often poisonous to the weak. There must\ntherefore be, in all cases where the young are concerned, as careful a\nselection of the mental food, as there is of the food for the body; and\nthe parent or teacher should, in all cases, present only such subjects,\nand such ideas to his pupils, as the state of their faculties, or the\nprogress of their knowledge, enables them to understand and apply.\n\nAnother striking point of analogy between mental and bodily nourishment,\nis to be found in the effects of repletion, when too great a quantity of\nfood is communicated at one time.--As the increase of a child's bodily\nstrength does not depend upon the mere quantity of food forced into his\nstomach, but upon that portion only which is healthfully digested and\nassimilated; so in like manner, the amount of a child's knowledge will\nnot correspond to the number of ideas forced upon his attention by the\nteacher, but to those only which have been reiterated by the mind, and\ncommitted by that process to the keeping of the memory. In both cases,\nthe evil of repletion is two-fold; there is the waste of food and of\nlabour, while the strength and the growth of the child, instead of being\npromoted, are retarded and diminished. The physical appetite gains\nstrength, by moderate exercise; but it is palled and weakened by every\ninstance of repletion. The desire for food is never for any length of\ntime at rest, so long as the stomach is kept in proper tone by moderate\nand frequent feeding; and the quantity of food which a healthy child\nwill in these circumstances consume, is often surprising. But whenever\nthe stomach is gorged, then restlessness, uneasiness, and not\nunfrequently disease, are the consequences. The digestive powers are\nweakened, the tone of the stomach is relaxed, and, instead of the\nhealthful craving for food which should occur at the proper interval,\nthe appetite is destroyed, and food of every kind is nauseated.--Exactly\nsimilar is the case with the mental appetite. The natural curiosity of\nchildren, or, in other words, their desire of information, before it is\nchecked or overloaded by mismanagement, is almost insatiable; and the\nastonishing amount of knowledge which they usually acquire between the\nages of one and three years, while under the guidance of Nature, has\nbeen formerly alluded to. But this desire of information, and this\ncapacity for receiving it, are by no means confined to that early\nperiod of their lives. The same appetite for knowledge would increase\nand acquire additional strength, were it but properly directed, or\nfurnished with moderate and suitable means of gratification. But when a\nparent or teacher impatiently attempts to force it upon the child more\nrapidly than he can receive it,--that is, than he can reiterate it in\nhis mind for himself,--he not only irritates and harasses the child, but\nhis attempt neutralizes the effect of the ideas which the child would\notherwise pleasantly and efficiently have received. Every such attempt\nto do more than enough greatly weakens the powers of the pupil's mind,\nand discourages him from any after attempt to increase his knowledge.\n\nAs a general maxim in the education of the young, it may here be\nobserved, that as long as the understanding of a child remains clear,\nand he can distinctly perceive the truths which are communicated to him,\nhe will find himself pleasantly and profitably employed, and will soon\nacquire a habit of distinct mental vision;--the powers of his mind will\nbe rapidly expanded and strengthened, and he will receive and retain the\nknowledge communicated to him with ease and with pleasure. But when, on\nthe contrary, he is overtasked, and more ideas are forced upon his\nattention than his capacity can receive, the mind becomes disturbed and\nconfused, the mental perception becomes cloudy and indistinct, and all\nthat is communicated in these circumstances is absolutely lost. If the\nparent or teacher insists on the pupil persevering in his mental meal,\nin the hope that things will get better, we can easily, from the present\nanalogy, perceive the fallacy of such a hope. Perseverance will only\ncreate additional perplexity; the whole powers of the child's mind will\nbecome more and more enfeebled, or totally prostrated; the labour of the\nteacher will be lost; and he will find his pupil now, and for some time\nafterwards, much less able to take a clear and distinct view of any\nsubject than he was before.\n\nThere is yet one other point of analogy between the supply of food for\nthe body and the mind, to which we must also allude. It is to be found\nin the baneful, and often destructive, effects of unnatural stimulants\napplied to the mental appetite, which strikingly correspond in their\neffects to the pernicious habit of supplying stimulants to the young in\ntheir ordinary food.--Stimulants will no doubt, in both cases, produce\nfor the time additional excitement;--but they are neither natural nor\nnecessary. In all ordinary cases, Nature has made ample provision for\nthe supposed want, of which the craving--the natural and healthy\ncraving--of children for knowledge and for food, gives ample testimony.\nTo counteract or to weaken this natural desire would be improper;--but\nartificially to _increase_ it is always dangerous. The reason is\nobvious; for the excitement thus caused being unnatural, it is always\ntemporary; but its pernicious effects very soon become extensive and\npermanent. Every physician knows, that the habitual use of stimulants in\nthe food of the young, weakens the tone of the stomach, palls the\nappetite, creates a disrelish for plain and wholesome food, and\nfrequently destroys the powers of digestion for ever after. Very similar\nare the effects of unnatural stimulants to the mental appetite in\ntraining and teaching the young, when these stimulants are habitually,\nor even frequently administered. Their curiosity,--their appetite for\nknowledge,--is naturally so vigorous, that the repetition, or the\nreading of any story, however commonplace or uninteresting to us, gives\nthem the sincerest pleasure, provided only that they understand and can\nfollow it. This is a most wise and beneficent provision of Nature, of\nwhich parents and teachers should be careful to take advantage. It is\nbecause of this disposition in children, that in all ordinary cases, the\nsimplest narrative or anecdote in ordinary life, may be successfully\nemployed in giving them mental strength, and in communicating permanent\nmoral instruction. But whenever unnatural and injudicious excitements\nare used in their instruction, and the child's imagination has been\nstimulated and defiled by the ideas of giants and ogres, fairies and\nghosts, the whole natural tone of the mind is destroyed, plain and even\ninteresting stories and narratives lose their proper attraction, and a\ndiseased and insatiable appetite for the marvellous and the horrible is\ngenerally created. Even to adults, and much more to children, whose\nminds have been thus abused, the plain paths of probability and truth\nhave lost every charm; and the study of abstract but useful subjects\nbecomes to them a nauseous task--an intolerable burden.\n\nThe accuracy of this analogy, we think, will readily be admitted by all.\nAnd if so, it will at least help to illustrate, if it does not prove,\nsome of the important conclusions to which we shall find ourselves led\nupon other, and philosophical grounds. But as the prejudices which,\nduring several centuries, have been gradually congregating around the\nscience of education are so many and so powerful, every legitimate\nmeans, and this among others, should be combined for the purpose of\nremoving them.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. III.\n\n_How Nature may be imitated in Communicating Knowledge to the Pupil, by\nthe Reiteration of Ideas._\n\n\nThe phenomenon in mechanics and natural philosophy, which is popularly\ntermed \"Suction,\" may be exhibited in a thousand different ways, and yet\nall are the result of but one cause. When we witness the various\nphenomena of the air and common pump,--the barometer and the cupping\nglass,--the sipping of our tea, and the traversing of an insect on the\nmirror or the roof,--the operations appear so very dissimilar, that we\nare ready to attribute them to the action of a variety of agents. But it\nis not so;--for when we trace each of them back to its primitive cause,\nwe find that each and all of these wonders are produced by the weight of\nthe atmosphere, and _that alone_. In precisely the same manner,\nknowledge may apparently be communicated to the human mind in a thousand\ndifferent ways; and yet, when we examine each, and trace it to its\nprimitive cause, we find the phenomenon to be one--and _one alone_. The\ntruth has been received and lodged with the memory,--made part of our\nknowledge--by _the reiteration of its idea_ by the mind itself;--by an\nexercise of active, voluntary thought upon the knowledge thus\ncommunicated. The cause and the effect invariably follow each other both\nin old and young; for whenever a new idea is perceived and reiterated by\nthe pupil,--if it should be but once,--the knowledge of the child is to\nthat extent increased; but whenever this act of the mind is awanting,\nthere can be no additional information received;--the increase of\nknowledge is found to be impossible. This appears to be a law of our\nNature, to which we know of no exception.\n\nIt is also worthy of remark here, that the retention or permanence of\nthe ideas thus committed to the keeping of the memory depends upon two\ncircumstances. The first is, the vigour of the mental powers, or the\nintensity of the impression made upon them at the time of\nreiteration;--and the second, and certainly the principal circumstance,\nis the frequency of their reiteration by the mind. In evidence of the\nfirst we see, that a fall, a fright, or a narrow escape from imminent\ndanger, although it occurred but once, and perhaps in early infancy,\nwill be remembered through life; and in proof of the second, we find,\nthat the scenes and circumstances of childhood being frequently and\ndaily reiterated by the mind, at a time when it has little else to\nreiterate, remain permanently on the memory. The object therefore most\nto be desired by the teacher, is an exercise, or a series of exercises,\nby which, in his attempts to communicate knowledge to his pupil, this\nact of reiteration may be secured, and if possible repeated at pleasure,\nfor more permanently fixing on the memory the knowledge communicated.\n\nIn a former chapter we shewed, that this act of reiteration is the\ninstrument employed by Nature for cultivating the powers of the mind as\nwell as for communicating and impressing knowledge;--and we have also\nshewn that Nature in that process was successfully imitated by means of\nthe catechetical exercise. This exercise has accordingly been found as\npowerful and efficient in promoting this, her second object, as it is in\nthe first. The success of the catechetical exercise in communicating\nknowledge clearly to the young, even when it is but imperfectly managed,\nhas been extensive and uniform; but wherever its nature has been\nproperly understood, and it has been scientifically conducted, the\namount of knowledge communicated in a given time, and with a given\namount of mental and physical labour, stands confessedly without a\nparallel in the previous history of education. Minds the most obtuse,\nhabits of listlessness the most inveterate, and mental imbecility,\nbordering on idiotcy, have been powerfully assailed and overcome; and\nknowledge, by means of this exercise, has forced its way, and firmly\nsecured a place for itself, in minds which previously were little more\nthan a blank.\n\nThe causes of its success in cultivating the powers of the mind were\nformerly explained; but its adaptation to the communicating of knowledge\nis still more peculiarly striking. We shall endeavour to point out a few\nof these peculiarities.\n\nLet us for that purpose suppose a teacher desirous of communicating to a\nchild the important fact, that \"God at first made all things of nothing\nto shew his greatness;\" it must be done, either by the child reading or\nhearing the sentence. If it be read, there is at least a chance, that\nthe words may be all decyphered, and audibly pronounced, while the ideas\ncontained in them have not yet reached the mind. The child may have\ncarefully examined each word as it occurred, and may have reiterated\neach of them on his mind as he read them, and yet there may not be the\nslightest addition to his knowledge. The reiteration of _words_, as we\nhave before explained, is not that which Nature requires, but the\nreiteration of _ideas_; and although we may, by substituting the one for\nthe other, deceive ourselves, Nature will not be deceived; for unless\nthe ideas contained in the sentence be reiterated by the mind, there can\nbe no additional information conveyed.--The same thing may happen, if\nthe words, instead of being read by the child, are announced by the\nteacher. The pupil may in that case hear the sounds; nay, he may repeat\nthe words, and thus reiterate _them_ in his mind after the teacher; but\nif he has not translated the words into their proper ideas as he\nproceeded, experience proves, that his knowledge remains as limited as\nbefore;--there has been no additional information. These cases are so\ncommon, and so uniform, that no farther illustration we think needs be\ngiven of them.\n\nThe desideratum in both these cases is, some exercise by which the child\nshall be compelled to translate the words into their several ideas; and\nby reiterating the ideas themselves, not the words which convey them, he\nshall be enabled at once to commit them to the keeping of the memory,\nand thus make them part of his knowledge. The catechetical exercise\nsupplies this want. For if, in either case, after the words have been\nread or repeated, the child is asked, \"What did God make?\" the\ntranslation of the words into the ideas, if previously neglected, is now\nforced upon him, because without this it is impossible for him to\nprepare the answer. The ideas must be drawn from the words, and\nreiterated by the mind, independently of the words, before the exercise\ncan be completed. And not only must the particular idea which answers\nthe question be extracted, but _the whole_ of the ideas contained in the\nsentence must be reiterated by the mind, before the selection can be\nbegun, and the choice made. It is also specially worthy of remark, that\neven in such a case as this, where, on the sentence being read or heard,\nthe words alone were at first perceived, yet no sooner does the mind\nproceed to its legitimate object, the reiteration of the ideas which the\nwords convey, than the words themselves are instantly lost sight of, and\nin one sense are never again thought of. As soon as the kernel is\nextracted, the shell has lost its value. The pupil having once got sight\nof the ideas, tenaciously keeps hold of _them_, and never once thinks\nagain of the words, which were merely the instrument employed by Nature\nto convey them. When the question is asked, and he answers it, the\nprocess consists in his translating the words of the whole sentence into\ntheir several ideas, chusing out the idea which answers the question\nfrom all the others, and then in clothing that idea in words which are\nnow entirely his own.\n\nIn all this there is a long and intricate series of mental exercises, in\nevery one of which the mind is actively employed, and it is in this, as\nbefore explained, that the value of this exercise, in cultivating the\npowers of the mind, really consists. But our present business is with\nthe acquisition of knowledge by its means; and we have to observe, that\nin each of the mental operations required for the answer of a single\nquestion, the ideas contained in the original sentence have repeatedly\nto undergo the process of reiteration; by which they are more clearly\nperceived, and more permanently fixed on the memory, than they otherwise\ncould have been. Hence the value of this exercise, even in those cases\nwhere the original sentence has been at the first fully understood. This\nwill appear obvious by tracing the mental operation of the pupil from\nthe beginning, when he has to answer the question.\n\nThere is first the understanding of the question asked at him. This must\nbe heard and reiterated by the mind before its purport can be perceived,\nand all this before he can commence the proper mental operation upon the\noriginal sentence from which his answer is to be selected. He has then\nto review the words of the original sentence, still sounding in his\nears, and to translate them into their several ideas, before he can\nbegin to select the one required. Then comes the act of selection,\nhaving to chuse out from among all the others the special idea required\nas his answer; and lastly, there is the clothing of that idea in words\nsuitable for the occasion, and the audibly pronouncing of these words as\nthe answer required. The rapidity with which the mind passes from one\npart of this exercise to another, may prevent these several operations\nfrom being perceived, but it is not the less true that they must have\ntaken place. And hence arises the value of the catechetical exercise,\nnot only in cultivating in an extraordinary degree the mental faculties\nof the pupil, but in powerfully forcing information upon the mind, and\npermanently fixing it upon the memory for after use.\n\nBut even this does not exhaust the catalogue of benefits to be derived\nfrom the use of the catechetical exercise in communicating knowledge to\nthe young. We have supposed only one question to have been asked by the\nteacher upon the original sentence, and yet we have seen that this one\nquestion has in fact in a great measure secured the understanding of the\nwhole of the ideas contained in it. But instead of one question, the\ncatechetical exercise has the power of originating many, each producing\nsuccessively similar results, but with greater ease to the child, and\nwith much more effect in rivetting the several ideas upon the memory.\nThe first question, when properly put, gives the pupil the command of\nthe whole proposition; but it requires considerable mental effort in the\nchild to recall the words, and internally to translate the ideas _for\nthe first time_. But when this has once been done, and a second question\nis asked from the same sentence, the ideas being now more familiar,\nthere is less mental labour required in preparing the answer, and there\nbeing equal success, there is of course more satisfaction. The ideas\nbecome much more clear and distinct before the mind by a second review;\nand the effect, in fixing the whole upon the memory, is much more\npowerful than it could be by means of the first. When therefore the\nteacher confines himself to the original sentence, and does not indulge\nin catechetical wanderings, the questions, \"When did God make all\nthings?\" \"How many things did God make?\" \"Of what did God make all\nthings?\" and, \"Why did God make all things?\" produce extensive and\npowerful effects. The pupil finds himself able to master each question\nin succession without difficulty, and the answering of each appears to\nhim a triumph. Whoever has been in the habit of making use of this\nexercise in the manner explained above, must have witnessed with\npleasure the life, and energy, and delight, which it invariably infuses\ninto the scholar, giving education a perfectly different aspect from\nwhat it usually assumes in the eyes of the young, and making it even in\nthe estimation of the pupil a formidable rival to his play. In this\nmanner has Nature set her seal upon this exercise, as a near\napproximation to her own process for attaining the two preparatory\nobjects she has in view in the education of the young; that of\ncultivating the powers of the mind, and that of communicating to her\npupils the elements of knowledge.\n\nThis exercise has been reduced to a regular system, which has placed it\nmore directly at the command of all who undertake the instruction of the\nyoung. By a little attention on the part of parents and teachers, to a\nfew simple rules, they may catechise upon any book, and apply the\nexercise to any species of knowledge whatever. We shall endeavour to\nexplain the nature and uses of these rules.\n\nFor the purposes of this exercise, the school books of the pupil are\nsupposed to consist of sentences, each of the principal _words_ in which\nconveys some specific idea;--these again are combined into _clauses_,\nwhich also convey an idea;--and the combination of these clauses in a\n_sentence_, or _paragraph_, usually forms a complete truth. For example,\nthe sentence, \"God at first [made all things] of nothing [to shew his\ngreatness,\"] contains one great truth; but the sentence which conveys\nit, embodies at least two _clauses_, inclosed in brackets, while the\nwhole is made up of _words_, each of which is the sign of an idea which\nmay readily be separated from all the others. Now it is evident, that\nquestions may be formed by the teacher relative to each of these three\nparts. He may ask a question, which shall require the _whole_ truth for\nthe answer; or one which will be answered by a _clause_; or another\nwhich is answered by a _word_.\n\nIn \"revising,\" accordingly, where time is an object, the teacher\nconfines himself to those general questions which bring out the _whole\ntruth_ at once, as is exemplified in the Larger and Shorter Catechisms.\nThis is called the \"Connecting Exercise,\" because it is employed in\nuniting sections together, which have previously been taught to the\npupils separately, but which are necessary to be perceived also in\nconnection. This, however, would be too limited an exercise for the\npurpose of directing the mind to the several parts of a truth for the\nfirst time; and therefore the teacher in those cases forms his questions\nchiefly upon the _clauses_ in the sentence, and the other words which\nhave some material relation to them, and this is called the \"General\nExercise.\" But even this is not enough, where the child is dull, or\nwhere healthful mental exercise is required; and accordingly in that\ncase, the teacher not only questions upon the clauses in connection with\nthe other principal words, but he takes the _words_, of which the\nclauses are composed, and catechises the child upon them also. This is\ncalled the \"Verbal Exercise,\" which has been found of great value in the\nteacher's intercourse with his younger classes. Upon these principles\nthe Initiatory Catechisms and their Keys have been formed, together with\nthe several Helps for communicating Scriptural knowledge. The success of\nthese school books, although labouring under all the disadvantages of\nnew instruments, imperfectly formed to work out new principles, is\nmainly to be attributed to the close imitation of Nature aimed at in all\ntheir exercises.\n\nThe _rule_ for the parent or teacher in mastering these exercises is the\nsame in all; it consists simply in forming the question in such a\nmanner, as that the word, the clause, or the whole proposition, shall be\nrequired to make the answer. Sufficient explanation and examples of all\nthis will be found in the Note.[13]\n\nThe uniform results of many experiments, have established the importance\nof this exercise as an instrument in communicating knowledge to the\nignorant, whether young or old. We shall shortly advert to a few of the\ncircumstances connected with these experiments, for the purpose of\nsatisfactorily establishing this.\n\nIn an experiment made in May 1828, under the direction of the Very Rev.\nDr Baird, Principal of the University of Edinburgh, before the Lord\nProvost, and several of the Professors and Clergymen of that city, nine\nadult criminals, \"taken without regard to their abilities,\" and who, in\nthe opinion of Governor Rose, \"formed a fair average of the usual\nprisoners,\" were, in the space of three successive weeks, exercised in\nwhole for eighteen or twenty hours. They were at the end of that time\nminutely examined in the Chapel of the County Jail, in the presence of\nthe Right Honourable and Reverend Professors and Gentlemen, who formed\nPrincipal Baird's committee; and their Report of the experiment and its\neffects bears, that \"the result of this important experiment was, in\nevery point, satisfactory. Not only had much religious knowledge been\nacquired by the pupils, and that of the most substantial, and certainly\nthe least evanescent kind; but it appeared to have been acquired with\nease, and even with satisfaction--a circumstance of material importance\nin every case, but especially in that of adult prisoners.\" \"The\nexamination evidently brought out only a specimen of their knowledge,\nand did by no means comprise all that had been acquired by them; but,\neven though it had constituted the whole amount of their information,\nthe fact that such a treasure had been amassed in three weeks is in\nitself astonishing. The writer of this Minute was not acquainted with\nthe extent of their acquirements when Mr Gall commenced his operations;\nbut judging from the examination, and from his knowledge of the contents\nof the books taught, he has no hesitation in averring, that the answers\nwhich they gave, arose entirely from information communicated by them.\nAnd when he reflects that their answers, being clothed in their own\nwords, guaranteed the fact, that it was _the ideas_ upon which they had\nseized, and that their knowledge participated in no degree of rote, the\nconviction to his mind is irresistible, that the universal application\nof the Lesson System to Prison Discipline, and to adults every where,\nwould be followed by effects incalculably precious to the individuals\nthemselves, and to the improving of society in general.\"\n\nThe efficiency of this exercise in communicating knowledge, was equally\nconspicuous in another experiment, conducted under the eye of the\nPrincipal, Professors, and Clergymen of Aberdeen, in July 1828. The\npersons on whom this experiment was made, were children taken from the\nlower classes of society, carefully selected on two several days, by a\ncommittee of clergymen appointed for the purpose, from the various\nschools in the city. These children were all carefully and individually\nexamined in private by the committee, and were chosen from among their\ncompanions, not on account of their natural abilities, or educational\nacquirements, but specially and simply on account of their ignorance.\nThe precautions taken by the Rev. and learned examinators, to secure\naccuracy in their ultimate decision, were at once judicious and\ncomplete; and were intended to enable them to say with confidence at the\nclose of the experiment, that the results, whatever they might be, were\nreally the effects of the exercise and discipline to which the children\nduring it had been subjected, and were in no respect due to the previous\ncapacity or the attainments of the children.\n\nTo secure this important preliminary object, therefore, the\nsub-committee of clergymen above alluded to was appointed, as soon as\nthe experiment was determined upon, with instructions to collect a class\nof the most ignorant children they could find, attending the several\nschools, and who it was thought would be, of course, most incapacitated\nfor receiving instruction. This sub-committee, consisting of the Rev.\nJohn Murray, the Rev. Abercromby L. Gordon, and the Rev. David Simpson,\nin their previous Report, say, \"We, on two several days, met with the\nchildren which were collected from the various schools, and examined\nthem individually, and apart from each other; avoiding every appearance\nof formality, and endeavouring to draw them into familiar conversation,\nthat we might correctly ascertain the state of their religious knowledge\non the three following points, which we considered to be the best\ncriterion by which to judge of their understanding of the other less\nimportant points in the gospel scheme of salvation.--These points were,\n1. Our connection, as sinners, with Adam; 2. Our connection with Christ\nas the Saviour; 3. The means by which we become interested in the\nsalvation of Christ. On minutely examining each child on these points,\none by one, and endeavouring, by varied and familiar language and\ncross-questioning, without confusing their ideas, to ascertain the\nknowledge which they possessed on these first principles, we accurately,\nand at the time, minuted the result, distinguishing those points which\nthey understood, and those which they did not. From this list we\nafterwards selected twenty-two names, of children who appeared from the\nlist, to be the most ignorant, by _not having any marks of approval on\nany one of these points_ on which they were examined;--although delicacy\nto the children, as well as to their parents and teachers, prevented us\nfrom stating to them, that this was the principle by which we had been\nregulated in our selection. From these twenty-two children, Mr Gall has\nmade up his class of ten, for this experiment, which he proposes shall\ncontinue for eight days, occupying two hours each day; and having thus\nchosen that class of pupils which appeared to us the most ignorant, we\nhave, in justice to Mr Gall and this system of teaching, stated the\nfact, leaving the examinators to make what allowance they may on this\naccount think proper, in determining on the failure or success of this\nvery important and interesting experiment.\"\n\nThis was the state of the children's knowledge and capacity when the\nexperiment began; and the following was found to be the state of these\nsame children's knowledge when examined publicly in the East Church,\nbefore the Very Rev. Principal, Professors, and Clergymen of the city,\nand a large congregation of the citizens, eight days afterwards.\n\nThe children were first interrogated minutely on the doctrines of the\ngospel, which had been previously arranged in a list under sixteen\ndifferent heads, embodying all the leading doctrinal points in the\nConfession of Faith and Shorter Catechism, a copy of which was handed to\nthe Very Rev. Principal Jack, who presided. The Report of the\nExperiment, prepared by their Committee, goes on to say, that \"After\nbeing examined generally and satisfactorily on each of these heads, the\nchairman, by means of a list of the names with which he was furnished,\ncalled up some of them individually, who were carefully examined, and\nshewed, by their answers, that they severally understood the nature of\nthe above doctrines, and their mutual relation to each other.\n\n\"They were then examined on the Old Testament History, from the account\nof the death of Moses, downwards, to that of the revolt of the Ten\nTribes in the reign of Rehoboam. Here they distinctly stated and\ndescribed all the leading circumstances of the narrative comprised in\nthe 'First Step,' whose brief but comprehensive outline they appeared,\nin various instances, to have filled up at home, by reading in their\nBibles the corresponding chapters. They were next examined in the same\nway, on several sections of the New Testament,\" with which they had also\nacquired an extensive practical knowledge, besides some useful\ninformation in Civil History, Biography, and Natural Philosophy, on all\nwhich they were closely and extensively examined.\n\nIn another experiment, undertaken at the request, and under the\nsanction, of the Sunday School Union of London, the efficiency of this\nexercise, as a successful imitation of Nature in communicating\nknowledge, was also satisfactorily ascertained. We shall at present\nadvert only to one feature of it, as being more immediately connected\nwith the present branch of our subject, that of communicating knowledge\nto the most ignorant and depraved.\n\nThe Report of this Experiment, drawn up by the Secretaries of that\nInstitution, records, that \"it had been requested, that, if possible,\nchildren should be procured, somewhat resembling the heathen, (or\npersons in a savage state,) whose intellectual and moral attainments\nwere bounded only by their knowledge of natural objects, and whose\nfeelings and obligations were of course regulated principally by\ncoercion and fear of punishment.\"\n\nTwo gentlemen of the Committee, accordingly, undertook the search, and\nat last procured from the streets three children, a boy and two girls of\nthe ages, so far as could be ascertained, (for they themselves could not\ntell,) of seven, nine, and eleven years, whom we shall designate G, H,\nand I. These children had no knowledge of letters; knew no more than the\nname of God, and that he was in the skies, but could not tell any thing\nabout him, or what he had done. They knew not who made the sun, nor the\nworld, nor themselves. They had no idea of a soul, or that they should\nlive after death. One had a confused idea of the name of Jesus, as\nconnected with prayers; which, however, she did not understand, but had\nnever heard of Adam, Noah, or Abraham. When asked if they knew any thing\nof Moses, one on them (viz. I,) instantly recollected the name; but when\nexamined, it was found that she only referred to a cant term usually\nbestowed upon the old-clothesmen of London. They had no idea of a\nSaviour; knew nothing of heaven or hell; had never heard of Christ, and\nknew not whether the name belonged to a man or a woman. The boy, (H,)\nwhen strictly interrogated on this point, and asked, whether he indeed\nknew nothing at all of Jesus Christ, thinking his veracity called in\nquestion, replied with much earnestness, and in a manner that showed the\nrude state of his mind, \"No; upon my soul, I do not!\"\n\nThis class, after eleven days' teaching, conducted in public, and in the\npresence of numbers of teachers, during one hour daily, were publicly\nexamined in the Poultry Chapel, by a number of clergymen, before the\nCommittee of the Sunday School Union, and a numerous congregation. The\nReport goes on to say, that the children of this class \"were examined,\nminutely and individually, on the great leading doctrines of\nChristianity. The enumeration and illustrations of the several doctrines\nwere given with a simplicity, and in a language, peculiarly their own;\nwhich clearly proved the value of that part of the Lesson System which\nenjoins the dealing with the ideas, rather than with the words; and\nwhich shewed, that they had acquired a clear knowledge of the several\ntruths. They were also examined on some parts of the Old Testament\nHistory,\" with which, during that short period, they had been made\nthoroughly acquainted.\n\nThese facts of themselves, and they could be enlarged to almost any\nextent, clearly prove the power and the value of this exercise in\ncommunicating knowledge to the young. And, as we have seen that its\nefficiency consists entirely in its close imitation of the process of\nNature in accomplishing the same object, we are the better warranted to\npress upon the minds of all who are interested in education and the art\nof teaching, the importance of keeping strictly to Nature, so far as we\ncan trace her operations; as it is by doing so alone that we are sure of\nsuccess. It may no doubt be said, that there are other ways of\ncommunicating knowledge to the young, besides the catechetical exercise;\nand therefore the necessity of adopting it is neither so necessary nor\nso urgent. To this it may be answered, that there have been other plans\nadopted, in urgent cases, for the nourishment of the body, besides the\ncommon mode of eating and digesting food; but all such plans are\nunnatural, and are of course but momentary and inadequate;--this,\ntherefore, would form no argument for depriving children of their food.\nBut even this argument is not parallel; for, although it has been found\nthat partial nourishment may be conveyed to the blood otherwise than by\nthe stomach, it has not yet been ascertained that any idea can enter the\nmind, except by this act of \"reiteration.\" Unless, therefore, something\ndefinite can be brought forward, which will secure the performance of\nthis act, different from the catechetical exercise, or the several\nmodifications of it, that exercise ought to be considered as a necessary\nagent in every attempt of the teacher to communicate knowledge.\n\nBut this admission in a philosophical question is much more than is at\nall necessary for our present purpose. It is in every view of the case\nsufficient to shew, that knowledge cannot be imparted without voluntary\nactive thought upon the ideas communicated, or what we have termed,\n\"reiteration;\"--and if this be once admitted, and if it can be shewn\nthat the catechetical exercise produces this result _more certainly_,\nand _more powerfully_, than any other mode of instruction yet known,\nthen nothing but prejudice will lead to the neglect of this, or will\ngive the preference to another. And it is a remarkable fact, that on\ninvestigation it will be found, that almost every useful exercise\nintroduced into schools within the last thirty years, owes its\nefficiency to the presence, more or less, of the principles which we\nhave been explaining, as embodied in the catechetical exercise.[14]\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[13] Note L.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. IV.\n\n\n_On the Means by which Nature may be imitated in Exercising the\nPrinciple of Individuation._\n\n\nWhile it appears to be a law of Nature, that there can be no\naccumulation of knowledge without the act of reiteration, yet there are\nother principles which she brings into operation in connection with it,\nby which the amount of the various branches of knowledge received is\ngreatly increased, and the knowledge itself more easily comprehended,\nand more permanently retained upon the memory.\n\nThe first of these principles, which we have before alluded to and\ndescribed, is that of \"individuation;\" that principle by which an infant\nor child is induced to concentrate the powers of its mind upon a new\nobject, and that to the exclusion for the time of every other, till it\nhas become acquainted with it.\n\nIn a former chapter we found, that as long as a child remains solely\nunder the guidance of Nature, it will not allow its attention to be\ndistracted by different _unknown_ objects at the same time; but whenever\nit selects one for examination, it invariably for the time abandons the\nconsideration of every other. The consequence of this is, that infants,\nwith all their physical and mental imbecility, acquire more real\nknowledge under the tuition of Nature in one year, than children who are\ndouble their age usually gain by the imperfect and unnatural exercises\nof unreformed schools in three or four. The cause of this is easily\ndetected, and may be illustrated by the analogy of any one of the\nsenses. The eye, for example, like the mind, must not only see the\nobject, but it must look upon it--examine it--before the child can\neither become acquainted with it at the time, or remember it afterwards.\nBut if unknown objects are made rapidly to flit past the eye of the\nchild, so that this cannot be done before there is time to fix the\nattention upon any of them, the labour of the exhibitor is not only\nlost, but the sight of the child is impaired;--the eye itself is\ninjured, and is less able, for some time afterwards, to look steadily\nupon any other object, even when that object is stationary. Such is the\ninjury and the confusion created in the mind of a child when it is\nhurried forward from object to object, or from truth to truth, before\nthe mind has had leisure to lay hold of them, or to concentrate its\npowers upon the ideas they suggest. The labour of the teacher in that\ncase is not only lost, and the child harassed and irritated, but the\npowers of the mind, instead of being brightened and strengthened, are\nbewildered and mystified, and must therefore be weakened in a\ncorresponding degree.\n\nThe method to be adopted therefore for the imitation of Nature in the\nworking of this principle, will consist in bringing forward, for the\nconsideration of the child, every new letter, or word, or truth, or\nobject, _by itself_. When presented separately and alone, there is no\ndistraction of mind--no confusion of ideas; the child is allowed to\nconsider it well before learning it, so that he will know something of\nits form or its nature, and will remember it again when it is either\npresented to his notice alone, or when it is grouped with others. His\nidea of the object or truth may be indistinct and faint at first, but it\nis correct so far as it goes; and the ideas which he retains concerning\nit, are obviously much more extensive, than if the mind at its first\npresentation had been disturbed or bewildered by the addition of\nsomething else.\n\nHis idea of the object or the truth, after being repeatedly considered,\nmay still be very inadequate, but it will now be distinct; and it is the\nwant of this precision in the pupil's mind that so frequently deceives\nteachers, and confuses and obstructs the future advance of the scholars.\nWhen a child hears, or reads a passage, the teacher, who understands it\nhimself, too often takes it for granted that the child as he proceeds is\nreiterating the ideas as well as himself, and is of course master of the\nsubject. But this is not always the case; and wherever the child has not\nsucceeded in doing so, all that follows in that lesson is usually to the\nchild the cause of confusion and difficulty. He finds himself at a\nstand; and however far he may in these circumstances be dragged\nforward, he has not advanced a step, and he must at some future\nperiod,--and the sooner the better,--return again to the same point, and\nproceed anew under serious disadvantages.\n\nIn almost every stage of a child's education, the neglect of this\nprinciple is seriously and painfully felt. It is the cause of acute\nmental suffering to well affected and zealous pupils; and it is the\nchief origin of all the heartlessness, and idleness, and apathy, which\nare found to pervade and regulate the conduct of those that are less\nactive. A careful appliance of this principle of individuation,\ntherefore, is always of importance in education; but it ought never to\nbe forgotten, that it is more peculiarly valuable and necessary at the\ncommencement, than at any other period of a child's progress in\nlearning. We shall advert to a few of the methods by which it may be\napplied in ordinary school education, in contrast with some instances in\nwhich it is neglected.\n\nIn teaching the alphabet to children, the principle of individuation is\nindispensable; and its neglect has been productive of serious and\npermanent mischief. A child of good capacity, by a proper attention to\nthis principle, will, with pleasure and ease, learn the names and forms\nof the letters, with the labour of only a few hours;[15] while, by\nneglecting the principle, the same child would, after years of\nirritation and weariness, be still found ignorant of its alphabet. The\noverlooking of the principle at this period has done an immense deal of\ninjury to the cause of education. It has, at the very starting post in\nthe race of improvement, quenched and destroyed all the real, as well as\nthe imaginary delights of learning and knowledge. It has given the tyro\nsuch an erroneous but overwhelming impression of the difficulties and\nmiseries which he must endure in his future advance, that the disgust\nthen created has often so interwoven itself with his every feeling, that\neducation has during life appeared to him the natural and necessary\nenemy to every kind of enjoyment.\n\nIt used to be common, and the practice may still we believe be found\nlingering among some of the lovers of antiquity, to make a child\ncommence at the letter A, and proceed along the alphabet without\nstopping till he arrived at Z; and this lesson not unfrequently included\nboth the alphabets of capitals and small letters. Now the cruelty of\nsuch an exercise with a child will at once be apparent, if we shall only\nchange its form. If a teacher were to read over to an infant twice a-day\na whole page or paragraph _without stopping_ of Caesar or Cicero in\nLatin, and demand that on hearing it he shall learn it, we could at once\njudge of the difficulty, and the feelings of a volatile mind chained to\nthe constant and daily repetition of such a task; and if this exercise\nwere termed its \"education,\" we can easily conceive the amount of\naffection that the child would learn to cherish towards it. Now this is\nreally no exaggerated illustration of the matter in hand, for in both\ncases the principle of individuation, so carefully guarded and enforced\nby Nature, is equally outraged; and it is only where, by some means or\nother, a remedy for the evil accidentally occurs, that the result in the\ncase of the alphabet, is not exactly the same as it would have been in\nthe case of the classics above supposed. The writer once saw in a Sunday\nschool, where the children were taught twice each Sabbath, a class in\nwhich some of the children had attended for upwards of two years, and\nwere still in their alphabet; and if the same mode had been pursued,\nthere is little doubt that they would have been in it yet.\n\nThe remedy for this evil is obvious. Instead of confounding the eye and\nthe mind of the child, by rapidly parading twenty-six, or fifty-four\nforms, continuously and without intermission before the pupil, the\nletters ought to be presented to the child singly, or at most by two at\na time; and these two should be rendered familiar, both in name and in\nform, before another character is introduced. When a few of the more\nconspicuous letters have become familiar, another is to be brought\nforward, and the child may be made to amuse himself, by picking out from\na page of a book, all the letters he has learned, naming them, and if\nnecessary describing them to a companion or a sub-monitor as they occur.\nOr he may be set down by himself, with a waste leaf from an old book, or\npamphlet, or newspaper, to prick with a pin the new letter or letters\nlast taught him; or, as an introduction to his writing, he may be made\nto score them gently with ink from a fine tipped pen. In these\nexercises, and all others which are in their nature similar, the\nprinciple of individuation is acknowledged and acted upon; and therefore\nit is, that a child will, by their means, acquire an acquaintance with\nthe letters in an exceedingly short time, and, which is of still greater\nimportance, without irritation or trouble. These methods may sometimes\nbe rendered yet more effective, by the teacher applying the catechetical\nexercise to this comparatively dry and rather forbidding part of a\nchild's education. It proceeds upon the principle of describing each\nletter, and attaching its name to the description, such as \"round o,\"\n\"spectacle g,\" \"top dotted i,\" &c. as in the \"Classified Alphabet.\" The\nteacher has thus an opportunity of exercising the child's imagination,\nas well as its memory, and making a monotonous, and comparatively\nunintellectual exercise, one of considerable variety and amusement.\n\nIn teaching the alphabet to adults, whose minds are capable of\nappreciating and applying the principle of analysis, the \"Classified\nAlphabet\" should invariably be used. By this means their memory, in\nendeavouring to recall the form and name of any particular letter,\ninstead of having to search through the whole _twenty-six_, has never to\nthink of more than the four or five which compose its class,--a\ncircumstance which makes the alphabet much more easily acquired by the\nadult than by a child. But even here, the principle of individuation\nmust not be lost sight of; each letter in the class must be separately\nlearned, and each class must be familiar, before another is taught.\n\nThe principle of individuation continues to be equally necessary in\nteaching children to combine the letters in the formation of words; and\nwhen it is attended to, and when the only real use of letters, as the\nmere symbols of sound, is understood by the pupil, a smart child may be\ntaught to read in a few minutes. This is not a theory, but a\nfact,--evidenced in the experience of many, and in the presence of\nthousands. Nor is it necessary that the words which are taught, should\nconsist only of two or three letters; if the word be familiar to the\nchild in speech, it becomes instantly known, when divided and taught in\nparts or syllables; and when once it is learned by the sounds of the\nletters, though these sounds merely approximate to the pronunciation of\nthe word, it is sufficient to give a _hint_ of what the word is, and\nwhen once it is known, it will not likely be again forgotten. By this\nmeans, the child is never puzzled except by entirely new words; and by\nknowing the use of the letters in their sounds, he receives a key by\nwhich at least to _guess_ at them, which the sense of the subject\ngreatly assists; so that one day, or even one hour, is sometimes, and we\nhave no doubt will soon be generally, sufficient to overcome the\nhitherto forbidding and harassing drudgery of learning to read.\n\nIn teaching children their first lessons, it is of great importance that\nthe main design of reading should be clearly understood, and attended\nto. As writing, philosophically considered, is nothing more than an\nartificial substitute for speaking, so reading is nothing more than an\nartificial substitute for hearing, and is subject to all the laws which\nregulate that act. Now one of the chief laws impressed by Nature on the\nact of _hearing_ the speech of others, is the very remarkable one\nformerly alluded to, namely, the exclusive occupation of the mind with\nthe _ideas_ communicated, to the entire exclusion of the _words_, which\nare merely the means by which the ideas are conveyed. The words are no\ndoubt heard, but they are never thought of;--for if they were, the mind\nwould instantly become distracted, and the ideas would be lost. This law\nequally applies to the act of _reading_; and every one feels, that\nperfection in this art is never attained, till the mind is exclusively\noccupied with the ideas in the book, and never in any case with the\nwords which convey them. But in learning to read, the difficulty of\ndecyphering the words, tends to interfere with this law, and this must\nbe guarded against. The remedy simply is, to allow the child time to\novercome this first difficulty, by repeatedly, if necessary, reading the\nsentence till he can read it perfectly; and then, before leaving it, to\ndiscipline the mind to the perception of the ideas it contains, now that\nthe child can read it well.\n\nThe catechetical exercise, as in the \"First Class Book on the Lesson\nSystem,\" will almost always accomplish the object here pointed out; and\nthe value of the exercise it recommends will be best understood and\nappreciated, by observing the evils which invariably follow its neglect.\nFor if the child be allowed to read on and on, while the difficulty of\ndecyphering the words in the book remains, the ideas will be left\nbehind, the attention will be fatigued, and at last exhausted. The child\nwill continue to read without understanding; and the habit thus acquired\nof reading the words, without perceiving the ideas at all, will soon be\nestablished and confirmed. Custom has robbed this relict of a former age\nof much of its repulsiveness; but it is not the less hurtful on that\naccount. Were we to run a parallel with it in any other matter, its true\nnature and deformity would at once appear. For example, were we to\nsuppose ourselves listening to an imperative message from a superior, by\na messenger with whose language we were but partially acquainted, we\nwould not allow him to proceed with his communication from beginning to\nend, while the very first sentence he uttered, had not been understood,\nand the mind was unprepared for that which was to follow. We would stop\nhim at the close of the very first sentence, and would master the\nmeaning of that, before we would advance with him another step; and then\nwe would make him proceed at such a pace as we could keep up with him.\nIf he left us again behind, there would be but one remedy. He must\nreturn and repeat the sentence where he left us, till we had\ncomprehended his master's meaning; and if he refused to do this, he\ncould not conscientiously say to him on his return, that he had\ndelivered his message. By following this plan, and adopting this branch\nof the natural principle of individuation in such a case, two benefits\nwould arise. We would first become perfectly acquainted with the will\nand message of our superior; and next, we would, at the close of the\nexercise, be so much more familiar with the language in which it was\ndelivered, as that it would require less effort on a future occasion, to\ncomprehend the meaning of the same speaker. If this method had not been\nadopted, and the message had been given entire and without a pause, it\nmight have been rehearsed in our hearing a hundred times, but the\nmeaning would neither have been mastered, nor would our knowledge of the\nlanguage have been in the least improved.\n\nThe application of this principle of individuation in the early stages\nof a child's learning to read, suggests the propriety also of making\nsome preparation for his reading every new lesson in succession. We have\nseen that it is chiefly the new words in a lesson that create\ndifficulty, and prevent the operation of that important law in Nature\nwhich induces the mind at once to lay hold of the ideas. To obviate this\ndistraction of mind therefore beforehand, the new words which _are to\noccur_ in the lesson should be selected, and made familiar to the child\npreviously, and by themselves;--he should be taught to read them easily\nby the combination of their letters, and clearly to understand their\nmeaning, in precisely the same shade in which they are used in the\nlesson he is to read. When this is done, the lesson will be read with\nease and with profit;--while, without this, the difficulty will be much\ngreater, if not beyond his powers. In accordance with this plan, the\n\"First Class Book,\" before referred to, has been constructed, and its\nefficiency on that account is greatly increased.\n\nThe neglect of this special application of the principle has been long\nand painfully felt in society, and most of all where the young have been\nsent earliest to school. The habit of reading the words without\nunderstanding the meaning of what they read, having once been acquired,\nthe weak powers of children are not sufficient to overcome the\ndifficulties with which this habit has surrounded them. They feel\nthemselves burdened and harassed with unnatural and unmeaning exercises\nfor years, before they can acquire the art of reading the words of the\nsimplest school book; and, what is still worse, after they have left the\nschool, and have entered upon the busy scenes of life, they find, that\nthey have now to teach themselves an entirely new art,--the art of\n_understanding by reading_. Instead of all this waste of energy, and\npatience, and time, experience has fully proved, that by following the\nplain and easy dictates of Nature, as above explained, all the drudgery\nof learning to read may be got over in a week,--it has been times\nwithout number accomplished in a single day,[16]--and this without any\nharassing exertion, and generally with delight. Of the truth of this, a\nfew out of many instances may here be enumerated.\n\nIn the summer of 1831, the writer one morning found himself, by mere\naccident, and a perfect stranger, in a Sunday school in the borough of\nSouthwark, London. He attached himself first to a class of children,\nsome of whom he found on enquiry had been two years at the school, and\nwere yet only learning the alphabet. In the same school, and on the same\nmorning, a young man who only knew his letters, but had never yet\nattempted to put them together, was classified with the infants, whom he\nhad willingly joined in his anxiety to learn. He had a lesson by\nhimself. By a rigid adherence to the above principle of individuation,\nthis young man, to his own great astonishment, was able in a few minutes\nto read a verse. The lesson went on, and in somewhat less than half an\nhour he had mastered several verses, and now knew perfectly how to make\nuse of the letters in decyphering the several words. By that one lesson\nhe found himself quite able to teach himself. In proof of this, as was\nafterwards ascertained, he read that same day on going home, without\nhelp, nineteen verses of the same chapter; and these verses, on\nreturning to school on the same afternoon, he read correctly and without\nhesitation, to his usual and astonished teacher. There can be no doubt,\nfrom this circumstance, that if it had been at all necessary, he could,\nwithout further aid, and with still greater ease, have read a second\nnineteen verses, and perfected himself by practice in this important,\nand supposed difficult art of reading, by this one lesson of less than\nhalf an hour.\n\nIn a later experiment, made in Dumfries, in the presence and under the\nsanction of Sir Thomas Kirkpatrick, and the clergymen and teachers of\nthat town, the power of this principle was put to a severe trial, in a\nvery unexpected and extraordinary manner. The week-day teachers of that\ntown having heard of some of the above circumstances, and of the powers\nof the Lesson System generally, in enabling children to read with but\nlittle trouble, were desirous of having its powers tested in that town,\nwhere the writer happened to be for a few days. He agreed; and Sir\nThomas Kirkpatrick, the Sheriff of the county, with the clergymen and\nteachers, at his request, formed themselves into a committee for the\npurposes of the investigation. A sub-committee of the week-day teachers\nwere appointed to procure a boy to be taught, which they did, and who,\non being closely examined at a preliminary public meeting of the whole\nexaminators, was found totally ignorant of words, and knew not one\nletter from another, with the exception, of \"the round o.\"\n\nWith this boy the writer retired, having agreed to call them again\ntogether at a public meeting, as soon as he was ready. This at the time\nhe did not doubt would have been on the very next day;--but he was\ndisappointed. He had not been five minutes with his pupil, till he\nfound, to his great mortification, that he had little or no intellect to\nwork upon. The boy was twelve years of age, and yet he was perfectly\nignorant of all the days of the week, except one, the market day, on\nwhich he was in the practice of making a few pence by holding the\nfarmers' horses. He could in no case tell what day of the week went\nbefore or followed another. He could count numbers forward mechanically\ntill among the teens; but by no effort of mind could he tell what number\ncame before nine, till he had again counted forward from one. The most\nobvious deduction from the simplest idea appeared to be quite beyond the\ngrasp of his mind. For example, though repeatedly told that John was\nZebedee's son, yet, after frequent trials, he could never make out, nor\ncomprehend who was John's father. Yet this boy,--one certainly among the\nlowest in the grade of intellect of our species,--by a rigid application\nof the principle of individuation, was enabled to overcome a great part\nof the drudgery of learning to read, by exactly eight hours' teaching.\nThis boy, who at the preliminary meeting on Wednesday, knew only \"the\nround o,\" read correctly in the Court-House on the following Monday, a\nsection of the New Testament, to the Rev. Dr Duncan, minister of\nRuthwell, before the Sheriff, clergymen, teachers, and a large assembly\nof the inhabitants of Dumfries. To ascertain that he had in that time\nreally _learned to read_, and that he did not repeat the words of the\nsection by rote, he was made to read before the audience, in a chapter\nof the Old Testament, and then from a newspaper, the same words that he\nhad read in his lesson. This he did readily, and without a mistake.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[14] For some practical information and directions connected with the\nsubjects in this chapter, see Note M.\n\n[15] Note N.\n\n[16] Note H.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. V.\n\n_On the Means by which Nature may be imitated in Applying the Principle\nof Grouping, or Association._\n\n\nThe principle of Grouping, or Association, as employed by Nature in her\neducational process, is obviously intended to enable the pupil easily to\nreceive knowledge, and to assist the memory in retaining and keeping it\never after at the command of the will. It is employed to unite many\nobjects or truths into one aggregate mass, which is received as\none,--having the component parts so linked, or associated together, that\nwhen any one part is afterwards brought before the mind, it has the\npower of immediately conjuring up, and holding in review, all the\nothers. For example, when a child enters a room in which its parents and\nrelations are severally employed, the whole scene is at a single glance\ncomprehended and understood, and will afterwards be distinctly\nremembered in all its parts. The elements of the scene are no doubt all\nfamiliar, but the particular grouping of these elements are _entirely\nnew_, and form an addition to his knowledge, as we formerly explained,\nas substantial, and as distinct, as the grouping of any other kind of\nobjects or circumstances could possibly do. Here then is a certain\namount of knowledge acquired by the child, which could be recorded in\nwriting, or which might be communicated by words; but which, by the\noperation of this principle of grouping, has been acquired with greater\nease, and in much less time, than he could either have read it, or\ndescribed it. It has been done in this instance by Nature bringing the\n_ideas_ suggested by the group directly before the mind of the child,\nwithout even the intervention of words; and we see by this example, how\nmuch more laborious it would have been to communicate the very same\namount of knowledge to the pupil, by making him _read_ the description\nof it, and how utterly preposterous and unnatural it would be to compel\nhim, for the same purpose, to commit the words of that description to\nmemory. The words are merely an artificial contrivance for the conveying\nof ideas;--and the more they can be kept out of view, it will be better\nfor the teacher, and more natural and easy for the child.\n\nIn communicating knowledge, therefore, to the young, the more directly\nand simply the ideas to be communicated are presented to the mind the\nbetter. They must usually be communicated by words; but these, as the\nmere instruments of conveyance, should be kept as much as possible out\nof view. To bring them at all under the notice of the child is a defect;\nbut to make them the chief object of learning, or to make the pupil\ncommit them to memory, is not only laborious and unnecessary, but is\nunnatural and hurtful.\n\nIn all this we ought simply to take our lessons from Nature, if we wish\nto succeed in conveying knowledge by the combination of simple objects.\nIn the above example, we have seen that a single glance was sufficient\nto give the infant a distinct idea of the whole scene; and the reason\nis, that the principle of individuation had previously done its work.\nEach of the elements of which the scene was composed, had undergone an\nindividual and separate examination, and therefore each was familiar.\nThis is Nature's method of communicating knowledge to the young; and it\nis obvious, that a different arrangement of the objects or actions would\nhave made no difference in the effects produced by the operation of the\nprinciple. Whatever the circumstances might have been, the new scene,\nwith all its variety of incidents, persons, and things, which it would\ntake ten-fold more time to enumerate than to learn, would at once be\nimpressed on the mind, and delivered over to the keeping of the memory,\nwithout labour, or any perceptible effort. The whole grouping forms a\nchain of circumstances, any one link in which, when afterwards laid hold\nof by the mind, brings up all the others in connection with it. The\nmemory by this means is relieved from the burden of remembering all the\nindividualities, and the innumerable details of the scene, by\nmaintaining a comprehensive hold of the whole united group, as one\nundivided object for remembrance.\n\nFrom this it appears evident, that this principle is intended to succeed\nthat of individuation, and never to precede it. Objects and truths which\nform the elements of knowledge must be individually familiar, before\nthey can be successfully grouped, or associated together in masses, in\nthe way in which the several parts of the knowledge of the young are\nusually presented; but after these objects or truths have once become\nknown, they may be permanently associated together in any variety of\nform without fatigue, and be retained on the memory for use without\nconfusion or distraction of any kind.\n\nIn our investigations into the nature and working of this principle, as\ndetailed in a former chapter, we found several causes which gave rise\nto certain uniform effects, which, for the purpose of imitation or\navoidance, may be classed under the following heads:--We found,\n\n1. That wherever the principle of grouping acted with effect, it had\nalways been preceded by the principle of individuation.\n\n2. That wherever the principle of individuation was made to interfere,\nthe effect intended by the principle of association was in the same\ndegree obstructed or destroyed.\n\n3. That whenever ideas or objects, whether known or unknown, were\npresented to a child in greater number than the mind could receive or\nreiterate them, it silently dropped the surplus;--but if these were\n_forced_ upon the mind, all the mischiefs arising from the interference\nof the two hostile principles immediately took place.\n\n4. That children, in grouping under the tuition of Nature, received and\nretained the impressions of objects presented to their notice, in a\nnatural and regular order;--forming in their minds a continuous moving\nscene, where motion formed a part of it; and that this movement of the\nobjects, actually was a portion of the grouping.\n\nThese being the facts connected with this portion of Nature's\neducational process, the object of the teacher should be to endeavour to\nimitate her in all these circumstances; carefully avoiding what she has\nshewn to be inoperative and hurtful, and copying as closely as possible\nall those that tend to forward the objects of instruction.\n\nThe first thing then to be attended to by the teacher, is, that in every\nattempt to communicate knowledge to a child by the grouping of objects,\nhe takes care that the principle of individuation has preceded it;--that\nis, that the various ideas or objects to be grouped, be individually\nfamiliar to the pupil. In communicating a story, therefore, or an\nanecdote, or in teaching a child to read, care must be taken that the\nobjects or individual truths, the words, or the letters, be previously\ntaught by themselves, before he be called upon to group them in masses,\nwhether greater or smaller. If this be neglected, an important law of\nNature is violated, and the lesson to this extent will be ineffective,\nor worse. But if, on the contrary, this rule be attended to, the pupil,\nwhen he comes to these objects in the act of grouping, is prepared for\nthe process; he meets with nothing that he is not familiar with; he has\nnothing to learn, and has only to allow the objects to take their proper\nplaces, as when he looked into the room, and grouped its contents as\nbefore supposed. All this being perfectly natural, is accomplished\nwithout effort, and with ease and pleasure.--This precaution on the part\nof the teacher, will at once remove many of the difficulties and\nembarrassments which have hitherto pressed so heavily upon the pupil in\nalmost every stage of his advance, but more especially in the early\nstages of his learning to read.[17]\n\nAs an illustration of our meaning, we may notice here, that a child who\nknows what is meant by \"sheep,\" and \"the keeping of sheep,\" of \"tilling\nthe ground,\" and \"making an offering to God,\" &c. is prepared to hear or\nto read an abridgement of the story of Cain and Abel. We say _an\nabridgement_ or _first step_, for reasons which shall afterwards be\nexplained. Without a previous knowledge of these several elements of\nwhich this story is compounded, he could neither have listened to it\nwith pleasure, nor read it with any degree of profit; but as soon as\nthese are individually familiar, the grouping,--the knowledge of the\nwhole story,--is a matter of ease, and generally of delight. As the\nstory advances, it causes a constant and regular series of groupings on\nthe mind by the imagination, which are at once exquisitely pleasing and\npermanent. The child, as in a living and moving picture, imagines a man\nlaboriously digging the ground, and another man in a distant field\nplacidly engaged in attending to the wants and the safety of a flock of\nsheep. He imagines the former heaping an altar with fruits and without\nfire; and the latter killing a lamb, laying its parts on an altar, while\na stream of fire descends from the skies and consumes it. His\nimagination goes on with increasing interest to picture the\nquarrel-scene in the field; and he in effect sees the blow given by the\nclub of Cain, that destroyed the life of his brother. All this living\nand moving scene will be remembered in groups; and these groups will be\nmore or less closely linked together, and will be imagined more or less\ndistinctly as a whole, in proportion to the mental advancement of the\nparticular child.\n\nThe next thing to be attended to in communicating knowledge to a child\nby grouping, is, that no strange for unknown object or idea be\nintroduced among those which he is called upon to group; because in that\ncase, the operation will be materially interfered with, and either\nmarred or destroyed. The completeness of this operation in the hands of\nNature, depends in a great measure, as we have seen, upon the perfect\ncomposure and self-possession of the mind during the process. If there\nbe no interruption,--no element of distraction introduced into the\nexercise,--all the circumstances, as they arise in the gradual\ndevelopement of the story, are comprehended and grouped. The living and\nmoving picture is permanently fixed upon the memory, so that it may be\nrecalled and reviewed at any future time. But if, on the contrary, the\nplacidity of the mind be interrupted,--if some strange and unknown\nobject be introduced, whose agency is really necessary for connecting\nthe several parts of the story,--the very attempt of the child to\nbecome individually acquainted with it, throws the whole process into\nconfusion; and he has either to drop the contemplation of this necessary\npart of the machinery, or to lose the benefit of all that is detailed\nduring the time he is engaged with it. In either case the end is not\ngained; and the great design aimed at by the teacher,--the communication\nof the knowledge connected with the narrative,--is more or less\nfrustrated. Like the landscape pictured on the placid bosom of the lake,\nthe formation and contemplation of his own undisturbed imaginings are\ndelightful to the child; but the introduction of an unknown object, like\nthe dropping of a stone in the former case, produces confusion and\ndistortion, which are always unpleasant and painful.\n\nOne general reason why the introduction of unknown objects into these\ngroupings of the child is so pernicious, may also be here adverted to.\nIt arises from the circumstance, that no person, whether young or old,\ncan form, even in his imagination, the idea of an entirely new thing.\nThis is commonly illustrated by the well known fact, that it is\nimpossible to conceive of a new sense;--but it is equally applicable to\nthe conception of a new object. Adults can no doubt conceive and picture\non their imaginations, objects and scenes which they never saw;--but\nthis mental act is not the imagining of an entirely new thing. All such\nscenes or things are compounded of objects, or parts of objects, which\nthey have seen, and with which they are familiar. They can readily\npicture to themselves a centaur or a cerberus, a mermaid or a\ndragon,--creatures which have no existence, and which never did exist;\nbut a little reflection will shew, that nothing which the mind conceives\nof these supposed animals is really new, but is merely a new combination\nof elements, or parts of other animals, already familiar. Children\naccordingly can easily conceive the idea of a giant or a dwarf, a woman\nwithout a head, or a man with two, because the elements of which these\nanomalies are compounded are individually familiar to them;--but were\nthey told of a person sitting in a howdah, or being conveyed in a\npalanquin, without having these objects previously explained or\ndescribed to them, the mind would either be drawn from the story to find\nout what these meant, and thus they would lose it; or they would, on the\nspur of the moment, substitute in their minds something else which\nperhaps had no likeness to them, and which would lead them into serious\nerror. For example, they might suppose that the one was a house, and the\nother a ship;--a supposition which would distort the whole narrative,\nand would render many of its parts inconsistent and incomprehensible.\n\nAs adults then, in every similar case, are under the necessity of\ndrawing materials from their general knowledge, for the purpose of\ncompounding all such unknown objects, it must be much more difficult for\na child to do this, not only because of his want of ability, but his\nwant of materials. The remedy therefore in this case is, to explain and\ndescribe the objects that are to be grouped, before the pupil be called\nupon to do so. And when the object has not been seen by the child, and\ncannot be exhibited by a picture, or otherwise, the teacher must exert\nhis ingenuity in enabling him to form an idea of the thing that is\nunknown, by a combination of parts of objects which are. Thus a tiger\nmay be described as resembling a large cat; a wolf, a fox, or even a\nlion, as resembling certain kinds of dogs; a howdah as a smaller sofa,\nand a palanquin, as a light crib. In all these cases, it is worthy of\nnotice, that a mere difference of size never creates confusion;--simply\nbecause, by a natural law in optics, such differences are of constant\noccurrence in the experience both of children and adults. A water neut\nwill convey a sufficiently correct idea of a crocodile; and the picture\nof an elephant, only one inch square, will create no difficulty, if the\ncorrect height be given. When these rules have been attended to, it will\nbe found, that this principle in Nature has been successfully imitated;\nand the pupil, by the previous process of individuation, will be\nperfectly prepared for the delightful task of grouping the objects which\nhe now knows. When he comes to these objects in the narrative, he\nconceives the idea of them accurately, and he groups them without\neffort. There is no hesitation, and no confusion in his ideas. The\npainting formed upon the mind is correct; the whole picture is united\ninto one connected scene, and is permanently imprinted on the memory for\nfuture use.\n\nAnother circumstance connected with this principle of grouping in\nchildren, we found to be, that when, at any time a greater number of\nobjects were presented to the mind than it was able to reiterate and\ngroup, it silently dropt the surplus, and grouped those only which came\nwithin the reach of its powers; but if in any instance an attempt was\nmade to _force_ the child to receive and reiterate the ideas of objects\nbeyond a certain point, the mind got confused, and its powers\nweakened.--The imitation of Nature in this point is also of great\nimportance in education, particularly in teaching and exercising\nchildren in reading. To perceive this more clearly, it will be necessary\nto make a few remarks on the nature of the art of reading.\n\nReading is nothing more than a mechanical invention, imitative of the\nact of hearing; as writing is a mechanical mode of indicating sounds,\nand thus becomes a substitute for the art of speaking, and conveying\nideas. But there is this material difference between reading and\nhearing, that in hearing the person giving attention is in a great\nmeasure passive, and may, or may not attend as he pleases. He may\nreceive part of what is said, and, as prompted by Nature, he may\nsilently drop all that he cannot easily reiterate. But in the act of\nreading, the person has both the active and the passive operations to\nperform. His mind, while he reads, must be actively engaged in\ndecyphering the words of his book, and the ideas are, or should be, by\nthis act, forced upon the observation of the mind at the same time. As\nlong, therefore, as the child is required to read nothing except that\nwhich he understands, and to read no more, and no faster, than his mind\ncan without distraction receive and reiterate the ideas which he reads,\nthe act of grouping will be performed with ease, and with evident\ndelight, and the powers of the mind will be healthfully and extensively\nexercised and strengthened:--But if this simple principle of Nature be\nviolated, the exercise becomes irritating to the child, and most\npernicious in its consequences. The neglect of this application of the\nprinciple is so common in education, that it usually escapes\nobservation; but on this very account it demands from us here a more\nthorough investigation.\n\nWe say then, that this principle is violated when a child is required to\nread that which it does not, and perhaps cannot understand; and also\nwhen he is required to read more, or to read faster, than he is able to\nreiterate the ideas in his own mind. On each of these cases we shall say\na few words, for the purpose of warning and directing the teacher in\napplying this important principle in education.\n\nLet us then suppose a child set to read a section which he does not, and\nwhich there is every probability he cannot understand, and then let us\ncarefully mark the consequences. The child in such a case reads the\nwords in his book, which ought to convey to his mind the ideas which the\nwords contain. This is the sole purpose of either hearing or reading.\nBut this is not accomplished. The words are read, and the ideas are not\nperceived; but the child is required to read on. He does so; and of\ncourse when the first part of the subject or sentence has been beyond\nhis reach, the second, which most probably hangs upon it, must be much\nmore so. In this therefore he also fails; but he is still required to\nread on. Here is a practice begun, which at once defeats the very\nintention of reading, and allows the child's mind to roam upon any thing\nor every thing, while the eye is mechanically engaged with his book. The\nhabit is soon formed. The child reads; but his attention is gone. He\ndoes not, and at length he cannot, understand by reading. This habit, as\nwe formerly explained, when it is once formed, it requires great efforts\non the part of the child to overcome. Most people when they are actively\nengaged in life, do at last overcome it; while thousands, who have\nnominally been taught to read, never can surmount the difficulties it\ninvolves. Many on this account, and for want of practising an art which\nthey cannot profitably use, lose the art altogether.\n\nBut again, let us suppose a child set to read that which he may\nunderstand, but which he is required to read more rapidly than allows\nhim to perceive and to reiterate the ideas while reading, and let us\nmark what are the necessary consequences in such a case. The child is\ncalled on to read a sentence, and he does so. He understands it too. But\nthe art of reading is not yet familiar, and he has to bend part of his\nattention to the decyphering of the words, as well as to the perception\nand reiteration of the ideas. This requires more time in a child to whom\nreading is not yet familiar, than to a child more advanced. But give him\na little time, and the matter is accomplished the ideas have been\nreceived, and they will be reiterated, grouped, and committed to the\nkeeping of the memory,--and then they will form part of his knowledge.\nBut if this time be not given,--if the child, while engaged in\ncollecting the ideas from the words of one sentence, be urged forward to\nthe reading of another, the mental confusion formerly described\ninstantly takes place. More ideas are forced upon the mind than it can\nreiterate; no group can be formed, because the elements of which it\nought to be composed, have not yet been perceived; the imagination gets\nbewildered;--the mind is unnaturally burdened;--its faculties are\noverstretched;--the child is discouraged and irritated; the powers of\nhis mind fatigued and weakened; and the whole object of the teacher is\nat once defeated, and rendered worse than useless.--In every case,\ntherefore, when the child is called on to read, sufficient time should\nbe given;--the teacher taking care that the main design of reading, that\nof collecting and grouping ideas, be always accomplished; and that the\npupil reads no more at one time than he can thoroughly understand and\nretain.\n\nThere is yet another circumstance connected with this process of\ngrouping, which ought not to be overlooked. It refers to the order in\nwhich the objects to be grouped by the child are presented to his\nnotice. A child under the guidance of Nature, receives and retains its\nimpressions of objects in a natural and simple order. When it witnesses\na scene, the group of objects, or actions formed and pictured on the\nmind by the imagination, is exactly as they were seen, the one\ncircumstance following the other in natural and regular order. In\ntelling a story therefore to a child, and more especially in composing\nlessons for them to read, this part of Nature's plan should be carefully\nstudied and acted upon. The elements of which the several groupings are\ncomposed, or the circumstances in the narrative to be related, should be\npresented in the order in which the eye would catch them in Nature, or\nthe order in which they occurred, that there may be no unnecessary\nretrogression of the mind, no confounding of ideas, no fear of losing\nthe links that connect and bind together the minor groupings of the\nstory. In the history of Cain and Abel, for example, the child is not to\nbe required to paint upon his imagination, a deadly struggle between two\npersons of whom as yet he knows nothing; and then, retiring backwards\nin the story, be made acquainted with the circumstances connected with\ntheir several offerings to God; and last of all, their parentage, their\noccupations, and their characters. The minds of the young and\ninexperienced would be perplexed and bewildered by such a plan of\nproceeding; and the irregularity would most probably be the cause of\ntheir losing the whole story. The opposite of this plan is no doubt\nfrequently adopted in works of fiction prepared for adults, and for the\nsake of effect; but every one must see that it is unnecessary in simple\nhistory, and is not at all adapted for the instruction of the young.\nWhen Nature's method is adopted, the child collects and groups the\nincidents as he proceeds, and paints, without effort, the whole living\nand moving scene on his imagination, as if he himself had stood by, and\nbeen an eye-witness of the original events.\n\nThe ascertained benefits of these modes of imitating Nature, are\nliterally innumerable; and it is happily within the power of every\nparent or teacher, in a single hour, to test them for himself. We shall\nmerely advert to one or two instances which occurred in the recorded\nexperiments, where their effects, in combination with the other\nprinciples, were conspicuous.\n\nIn the experiment upon the prisoners in the County Jail of Edinburgh,\nthe acquisition of their knowledge of Old Testament History, instead of\nbeing a burden, was to them a source of unmingled gratification. There\nwere painted upon their minds the leading incidents in the history of\nthe patriarchs, not only in groups, but their judgments being ripened,\nthey were able to perceive them in regular connection. These pictures,\nthen so pleasantly impressed on their imaginations, are likely to remain\nwith them through the whole of their lives. The Report says, that \"they\nwere examined on their knowledge of the Book of Genesis,\" and \"gave a\ndistinct account of its prominent facts from Adam down to the\nsettlement in Goshen, and shewed by their answers that these\ncircumstances were understood by them in their proper nature and\nbearings.\"\n\nBy the same means, but in less time, and to a greater extent, the same\nobject was attained with the children in Aberdeen, who, though chosen\nfrom the schools specially on account of their want of knowledge, were,\nby only a few hours teaching, enabled, besides many other subjects of\nknowledge, to receive and retain on their minds the great leading\ncircumstances that occurred from \"the death of Moses downwards, to that\nof the revolt of the ten tribes in the reign of Rehoboam.\"\n\nIn the experiment in London also, a large portion of Old Testament\nhistory, with much other knowledge, was acquired in a few hours by a boy\nof about nine years of age, who, previously to the commencement of the\nexperiment, knew no more of God than the name;--who had no idea of a\nsoul, or that he should live after death;--who \"had never heard of Adam,\nNoah, or Abraham;\"--\"had no idea of a Saviour; knew nothing of heaven or\nhell; had never heard of Christ, and knew not whether the name belonged\nto a man or a woman.\" Yet this boy, in an exceedingly short time, could\ngive an account of many groupings in the Old Testament history.\n\nWe shall only remark, in conclusion, that if, by the proper application\nof this principle, so much knowledge may be acquired by rude and\nignorant children, not only without effort, but in the enjoyment of\ngreat satisfaction; what may not be expected in ordinary circumstances,\nwhen the pupils are regularly trained and prepared for the purpose, and\nwhen all the principles employed by Nature in this great work, are made\nto unite their aids, and to work in harmony together for producing an\nenlightened and virtuous population? This may most assuredly be gained\nin an exceedingly short period of time, by a close and persevering\nimitation of Nature in these educational processes.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[17] Note O.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. VI.\n\n_On the Methods by which Nature may be imitated in Communicating\nKnowledge by Classification, or Analysis._\n\n\nIn a former chapter we had occasion to notice a fourth principle brought\ninto operation by Nature in the acquisition of knowledge, which is the\nprinciple of Classification, or Analysis; and we shall now enquire how\nthis principle may be successfully imitated by the teacher for the\nfurtherance of his art.\n\nThere are two forms, which in a former chapter we endeavoured to trace\nout and explain, in which this principle of Analysis appears in the\neducational process of Nature. We shall here again very shortly advert\nto them, beginning with that which in education is perhaps the most\nimportant, but which hitherto has certainly been least attended\nto,--that of teaching connected truths by progressive steps.\n\nWhen we read a connected section of history for the first time, and then\nexamine the state of our knowledge respecting it, we find that we have\nretained some of the ideas or truths which we read, but that we have\nlost more. When that portion which we have retained is carefully\nexamined, we find that it consists chiefly of the more prominent\nfeatures of the narrative, with perhaps here and there occasional\ngroupings of isolated circumstances. We have, in fact, retained upon the\nmemory, little more than the general outline,--the great frame-work of\nthe history. There will be the beginning, the middle, and the end,\ncontaining perhaps few of the minor details, but what is retained is all\nin regular order, bound together as a continuous narrative, and,\nhowever meagre, the whole forms in the imagination of the reader, a\ndistinct and connected whole. There is perhaps no more of the intended\nfabric of the history erected in the mind than the mere skeleton of the\nbuilding; but this frame-work, however defective in the details, is\ncomplete both as to shape and size, and is a correct model of the\nfinished building from top to bottom. This is the state of every\nadvanced pupil's mind, after he has for the first time closed the\nreading of any portion of history or biography. If the narrative itself\nhas been correct, this general outline,--this great frame-work of the\nhistory,--remains on his mind through life, without any material\nalteration. Additional information afterwards will assist in filling up\nthe empty spaces left between the more massive materials, but it will\nneither shake, nor shift them; and even the most minute details of\nindividual or family incidents, connected with the general narrative,\nwhile they add additional interest, and fill up or ornament different\nand separate parts, will never alter the general form of the fabric, nor\ndisplace any of the main pillars upon which it is supported.\n\nThis is one way of illustrating this analytical process of Nature; but\nfor the purposes of imitating it in education it is not perhaps the\nbest. The idea of a regular analytical table of the history, formed of\nsuccessive branches, by successive readings, is by far the most natural\nand applicable. By a first reading of a portion of history, there are\ncertain great leading points established in the mind of the reader,\nwhich form the first branches of a regular analysis, and to some one or\nother of which parts or divisions every circumstance of a more minute\nkind connected with the history, will be found to be related. This first\ngreat division of the history attained by the first reading, if correct,\nwill, and must, remain the same, whatever addition may afterwards be\nmade to it. By a second reading, our knowledge of the leading points\nwill greatly assist us in collecting and remembering many of the more\nminute circumstances embodied in them, or intimately connected with\nthem; but even then, an ordinary mind, and more especially a young\nperson, will not have made himself master of all the details. A third,\nand perhaps a fourth reading, will be found necessary to give him a full\ncommand of all the minuter circumstances recorded.[18]\n\nIn endeavouring to take advantage of this principle, so extensively\nemployed by Nature, it is of great importance to observe, that a certain\ndefinite effect is produced by each successive reading. A first reading\nestablishes in the mind of the pupil a regular frame-work of the whole\nhistory, which it is the business of every successive reading to fill up\nand complete. There is by the first course, a separation of the whole\nsubject into heads, forming the regular divisions of a first branch of\nthe analysis;--the second course tends to subdivide these again into\ntheir several parts; and to form a second branch in this analytical\ntable;--and a third course, would enable the pupil to perceive and to\nseparate the parts of the narrative included in these several divisions,\nby which there would arise a third branch, all included in the second,\nand even in the first.\n\nWe have here supposed, that the pupil has been engaged with the very\nsame chapters in each of these several courses;--and that he read the\nsame words in the first course that he read in those which followed. He\nhad to read the whole, although he could retain but little. He had to\nlabour the whole field for the sake of procuring plants, which could\nhave been more certainly and more healthfully raised upon a square yard.\nHis reading for hours has produced no more knowledge than is expressed\nby the first branch of the supposed analysis; and therefore, if the\nteacher would but analyse the subject for the child, whether it be a\nscience or a history,--suppose for example, the History of Joseph,--and\ngive his younger pupils no more at first than the simple _outline_ of\nthe story, some very important advantages would be the result. In the\nfirst place, the very difficult task of keeping the volatile mind of a\nchild continuously fixed to the subject during the lengthened reading of\nthe whole narrative will be unnecessary;--the irritation and uneasiness\nwhich such a lengthened exercise must produce in a child will be\navoided;--time will be economised, the labour of the teacher will be\nspared, and the mind of the child at the close of the exercise, instead\nof being fagged and prostrated, will be found vigorous and lively. And\nyet, with all this, the positive result will be the same. The child's\nknowledge of the subject in this latter case, will in reality be as\nextensive, and much more distinct and permanent, than in the former.\n\nHere is the first step gained; and to attain the second, a similar\ncourse must be pursued. Nature, who formed this first branch of the\nanalytical table on the minds of the first class of the children, formed\nanother and more extended branch in the minds of the second class. The\nteacher therefore has only to take each of the branches which form the\nfirst step, and sub-divide them into their natural heads, so as to form\na second,--and to teach this to his children in the same manner that he\ntaught them the former. By this means, the first class will now possess\nan equal degree of knowledge with those who occupied the second;--and by\na similar process, the others would advance to the third and the fourth\nclasses according to circumstances.\n\nThe plan here proposed for imitating Nature by progressive steps, has\nbeen tried with undeviating success for many years. Its efficiency, as\nembracing the principle employed by Nature for the communication of\nknowledge, has been repeatedly subjected to the most delicate and at the\nsame time the most searching experiments. By its means, in connection of\ncourse with the catechetical exercise by which it is wrought, very\nextraordinary effects have been produced even upon individuals whose\nminds and circumstances were greatly below the average of common\nchildren.\n\nIn the experiment made upon the adult criminals in the County Jail of\nEdinburgh, the pupils acquired easily and permanently a thorough\nknowledge of the history contained in the Book of Genesis. \"They gave a\ndistinct account of its prominent facts, from Adam, down to the\nsettlement in Goshen, and shewed by their answers, that these\ncircumstances were understood by them, in their proper nature and\nbearings. They gave, in the next place, a connected view of the leading\ndoctrines of revelation; when their answers evinced, most\nsatisfactorily, that they apprehended, not merely each separate truth,\nbut that they perceived its relation to others, and possessed a\nconsiderable knowledge of the divine system as a whole. They were also\nexamined upon several sections of the New Testament; where their answers\ndisplayed an equally clear and accurate knowledge of the subject.\" These\npersons, be it observed, belonged to a class of individuals, who are\ngenerally considered to be peculiarly hostile to the reception of\ninformation of this kind, and certainly who are least able to comprehend\nand retain it; and all this, besides other portions of knowledge, on\nwhich they were examined during the experiment, was communicated with\nease by about twenty hours teaching.\n\nBy the experiment made at Aberdeen, upon children the most ignorant that\nthe Committee of Clergymen could find among the several schools in the\ncity, it was ascertained, that after only nine or ten hours teaching,\nthey had not only received a thorough knowledge of \"several sections of\nNew Testament History,\" but that they had acquired a knowledge of all\nthe leading events included in the Old Testament History, from \"the\ndeath of Moses, downwards to that of the revolt of the Ten Tribes in the\nreign of Rehoboam. Here they distinctly stated and described all the\nleading circumstances of the narrative comprised in the 'First Step,'\nwhose brief but comprehensive outline they appeared, in various\ninstances, to have filled up at home, by reading in their Bibles the\ncorresponding chapters.\"\n\nThe efficiency of this form of analytical teaching, as exhibited in\nsuccessive steps, when employed for the purpose of teaching a knowledge\nof civil history and biography, was also proved with equal\ncertainty;--for these same children showed a thorough knowledge of that\nportion of the History of England embraced by the reign of Charles I.\nand the Commonwealth; and in biography, the life of the late John Newton\nhaving been employed for the purpose, they shewed such an acquaintance\nwith the leading facts, and the uses to be made of them, that the\nreverend gentlemen in this report of the experiment say, that the\nchildren had \"to be restrained, as the time would not permit.\"\n\nIn teaching the sciences, particularly the science of natural\nphilosophy, this method of employing the principle of analysis has been\nfound equally successful. Nature indeed, by the regular division of her\nseveral works, has obviously pointed this out as the proper method of\nproceeding, especially with the young; and the success that has\ninvariably accompanied the attempt, shews that the opinion is well\nfounded.\n\nIn the experiment at Aberdeen, the class of children, who were specially\nselected from their companions on account of their ignorance only a few\ndays before, were \"interrogated, scientifically, as to the production,\nthe nature, and the properties of several familiar objects, with the\nview of shewing how admirably calculated the Lesson System is, for\nfurnishing the young with a knowledge of natural science and of the\narts. One of their little companions being raised before them on a\nbench, they described every part of his dress, from the bonnet\ndownwards, detailing every process and stage of the manufacture. The\nbonnet, which was put on his head for this purpose, the coat, the\nsilk-handkerchief, the cotton vest, were all traced respectively from\nthe sheep, the egg of the silk-worm, and the cotton-pod. The buttons,\nwhich were of brass, were stated to be a composition of copper and zinc,\nwhich were separately and scientifically described, with the reasons\nassigned, (as good as could be given,) for their admixture, in the\ncomposition of brass.\" \"A lady's parasol, and a gentleman's watch were\ndescribed in the same manner. The ivory knob, the brass crampet, the\nbamboo, the whalebone, the silk, were no sooner adverted to, than they\nwere scientifically described. When their attention was called to the\nseals of the gentleman's watch, they immediately said, 'These are of\npure, and those of jeweller's gold,' and described the difference. The\nsteel ring was traced to the iron-stone in the mine, with a description\nof the mode of separating the metal from its combinations. The processes\nrequisite for the preparation of wrought-iron from the cast-iron, and of\nsteel from the wrought-iron, with the distinguishing properties of each\nof these metals, were accurately described, and some practical lessons\ndrawn from these properties; such as, that a knife ought never to be put\ninto the fire, and that a razor should be dipped in warm water previous\nto its being used. Various articles were collected from individuals in\nthe meeting, and successively presented to them, all of which they\ndescribed. India-rubber, cork, sponge, pocket combs, &c. A small pocket\nthermometer, with its tube and its mercury, its principles and use, and\neven the Turkey-leather on the cover, were all fully described. After\nexplaining the nature and properties of coal-gas, one of the boys\nstated to the meeting, that since the commencement of this experiment,\nhe had himself attempted, and succeeded in making gas-light by means of\na tobacco-pipe;--his method of doing which he also described.\"\n\nThe other form in which the principle of Analysis may, in imitation of\nNature, be successfully employed in communicating knowledge to the\nyoung, is not to be considered as new, although the working of the\nprinciple may not have been very clearly perceived, or systematically\nregulated. It is seen most simply perhaps in the division of any\nsubject,--a sermon for example--into its great general heads; and then\nendeavouring to illustrate these, by sub-dividing each into its several\nparticulars. By this means the whole subject is bound together, the\njudgment is healthfully exercised, and the memory is greatly assisted in\nmaking use of the information communicated.\n\nIt is upon this plan that the several discourses and speeches in the\nActs of the Apostles have been analysed, as an introduction to the\nteaching of the epistles to the young.[19] Upon the same principle\ndepends the success of the \"Analysis of Prayer,\" of which we shall\nafterwards have to speak; and it is by means of this principle, in\nconnection with the successive steps, that the several departments of\nnatural philosophy are proposed to be taught.\n\nThe efficiency of the principle in this form, as applied to the teaching\nof natural philosophy to mere school boys, has been ascertained by\nnumerous experiments, of which the one in Aberdeen, already alluded to,\nhas afforded good evidence. But the experiment conducted in Newry, on\naccount of several concurrent circumstances, is still more remarkable\nand appropriate, and to it therefore we propose briefly to refer.\n\n\"In the year 1830, the writer, in passing through the town of Newry on\nhis way to Dublin, was waited upon by several Sunday school teachers,\nand was requested to afford them some information as to teaching their\nschools, and for that purpose to hold a meeting with them and their\nfellow teachers, before leaving the place. To this he readily agreed;\nbut as he intended to go to Dublin by the coach, which passed through\nNewry in the afternoon, the meeting had to take place that same day at\ntwo o'clock. At that meeting, the Earl of Kilmorey and a party of his\nfriends were very unexpectedly present; and they, after the business of\nthe meeting was over, joined with the others in requesting him to\npostpone his departure, and to hold a public meeting on the following\nTuesday, of which due intimation would be given, and many teachers in\nthe neighbourhood, who must otherwise be greatly disappointed, would be\nable to attend.\" To this request, accordingly, he at once acceded.\n\n\"In visiting the schools next day, the propriety of preparing a class or\ntwo of children for the public meeting was suggested and approved of;\nand the day-teacher being applied to, gave Mr Gall a list of six of his\nboys for the purpose. With these children he met on Monday; and after\ninstructing them in the doctrines of the Gospel, and teaching them how\nto draw lessons from Scripture, he began to teach them some parts of\nnatural philosophy, and to draw lessons also from these. Their aptness,\nand eagerness to learn, suggested the idea of selecting one of the\nsciences, and confining their attention principally to it, for the\npurpose of ascertaining how much of the really useful parts of it they\ncould acquire and learn to use, in the short space of time which must\nintervene between that period and the hour of meeting. Considering what\nwould be most useful and interesting, rather than what would be most\neasy, he hastily fixed on the science of anatomy and physiology, and\nresolved to mark the time during which they were engaged with him in\nlearning it. These lessons were altogether oral and catechetical,--as\nneither he nor the children at that time had any books to assist them in\ntheir labours.\n\n\"The method adopted by Mr Gall in communicating a knowledge of this\nimportant and difficult science to these school-boys, was strictly\nanalytical;--classifying and connecting every part of his subject, and\nbringing out the several branches of the analysis in natural order, so\nthat the connection of all the parts was easily seen, and of course well\nremembered. An illustration of his method may induce some parents to try\nit themselves.\n\n\"He first directed their attention to the bones, and taught them in a\nfew words their nature and uses, as the pillars and safeguards of the\nbody;--the shank, the joint, and the ligaments, forming the branches of\nthis part of the analysis. He then led them to imagine these bones\nclothed with the fleshy parts, or muscles, of which the mass, the\nligaments, and the sinews, formed the branches. He explained the nature\nof their contraction; and shewed them, that the muscles being fastened\nat one end by the ligament to a bone, its contraction pulled the sinew\nat the other, and thus bent the joint which lay between them.--He then\ntaught them the nature and uses of the several viscera, which occupy the\nchest and belly, and their connection with each other. This prepared the\nway for considering the nature of the fluids of the body, particularly\nthe blood, and its circulation from the heart and lungs by the arteries,\nand to them again by the veins, with the pulsation of the one, and the\nvalves of the other. The passage of the blood through the lungs, and the\nuses of the air-cells and blood-vessels in that organ were described;\nwhen the boys, (having previously had a lesson on the nature of water,\natmospheric air, and the gases,) readily understood the importance of\nbringing the oxygen into contact with the blood, for its renovation\nfrom the venous to the arterial state. The nature of the stomach and of\ndigestion, of the intestines, lacteals, and absorbents, was next\nexplained, more in regard to their nature than their names,--which last\nwere most difficult to remember;--but the knowledge of the function,\ninvariably assisted the memory in recalling the name of the organ. They\nwere next made acquainted with the brain, the spinal cord, and the\nnervous system generally, as the source of motion in the muscles, and\nthe medium of sensation in conveying intelligence from the several\norgans of sense to the brain, by which alone the soul, in some way\nunknown, receives intelligence of outward objects. This prepared the way\nfor an account of the organs of sense, and the mechanism of their parts;\nand lastly, they were made acquainted with the integuments, skin, hair,\nand nails, with the most obvious of their peculiarities.--On all these\nthey were assiduously and repeatedly catechised, till the truths were\nnot only understood, but were in some degree familiar to them. In this\nthey were greatly assisted by a consideration of their own bodies; which\nMr Gall took care to make a kind of text-book, not only for making him\nbetter understood, but for enabling them more easily and permanently to\nremember what he told them. When he shewed them, by their hands, feet,\nand face, the ramifications of the blood-vessels and nerves,--the\nmechanism of the joints,--the contraction of the various muscles,--the\nsituation and particular uses of which he himself did not even know, but\nwhich were nevertheless moved at their own will, and whenever they\npleased,--the young anatomists were greatly pleased and astonished; and\nthis added to their eagerness for farther information, and to their zeal\nin shewing that they understood, and were able again to communicate it.\n\n\"These preparatory meetings were never protracted to any great extent,\nas the whole time was divided into three or four portions,--the boys\nbeing dismissed to think over the subject, (for they had nothing to\nread,) and to meet again at a certain hour. The watch was again\nproduced, and the time marked; and when the whole period occupied by\nthis science and its connections was added together, it amounted to two\nhours and a half exactly. One of these lessons, and the longest, was\ngiven during a stroll in the fields.\n\n\"The public meeting of parents and teachers was held at Newry on the 5th\nof October 1830, when the above class, with others, were examined on the\nreligious knowledge which had been communicated to them on the previous\ndays, with its lessons and uses; after which the six boys were taken by\nthemselves, and thoroughly and searchingly catechised on their knowledge\nof the anatomy and physiology of the human body. They were examined\nfirst on the nature and uses of the bones, their shapes, substance,\njoints, and ligaments. Then on the nature and offices of the muscles,\nwith their blood-vessels, nerves, ligaments, sinews, and motions;--the\nuses of the several viscera;--the heart with its pulsations, its power,\nits ventricles and auricles, and their several uses;--the lungs, with\ntheir air-cells, blood-vessels, and their use in arterializing the\nblood;--the stomach, intestines, &c. with their peristaltic motions,\nlacteals, &c.;--the brain, spinal cord, and nerves, with their\nconnections, ramifications, and uses;--the senses, with their several\norgans, their mechanism, and their manner of acting. On all these they\nwere questioned, and cross-questioned, in every variety of form: And\nthat the audience might be satisfied that this was not a mere catalogue\nof names, but that in fact the physiology of the several parts was\nreally known, and would be remembered, even if the names of the organs\nshould be forgotten, they were made repeatedly to traverse the\nconnecting links of the analysis forward from the root, through its\nseveral branches, to the extreme limit in the ultimate effect; and, at\nother times backward, from the ultimate effect to the primitive organ,\nor part of the body from which it took its origin. For example, they\ncould readily trace forward the movement of the arm joint, or any other\njoint, from the ligament of the muscle at its junction with the bone,\nthrough its contraction by the nerve at the fiat of the will, by which\nthe sinew of the muscle, fastened at the opposite side of the joint, is\npulled, and the joint bent;--or they could trace backward any of the\noperations of the senses,--the sight, for example, from the object seen,\nthrough the coats of the eye, to the inverted picture of it formed upon\nthe retina, which communicated the sensation to the optic nerve, by\nwhich it was conveyed to the brain. In all which they invariably\nsucceeded, and shewed that the whole was clearly and connectedly\nunderstood.\n\n\"When this had been minutely and extensively done on the several parts\nof the body, some medical gentlemen who were present were requested to\ncatechise them on any of the topics they had learnt, for the purpose of\nassuring themselves and the audience that the children really and\nfamiliarly understood all that they had been catechised upon. One of the\nmedical gentlemen, for himself and the others present, then stated\npublicly to the meeting, that the extent of the children's knowledge of\nthis difficult science was beyond any thing that they could have\nconceived. And afterwards affirmed, that he had seen students who had\nattended the medical classes for six months, who did not know so much of\nthe human body as these children now did.\"\n\nThis experiment became more remarkable from a circumstance which took\nplace within a few days afterwards, and which tended still more strongly\nto prove the permanence and efficiency of this method of imitating\nNature; shewing, not only that truth when communicated as Nature\ndirects, is easily received, and permanently retained upon the memory,\nbut that all such truths when thus communicated, become more and more\nfamiliar to the mind, and more decidedly under the controul, and at the\ncommand of the will. The circumstance is thus recorded in the account of\nthe experiment[20] from which we have already quoted.\n\n\"At the close of the meeting, Mr Gall took farewell of his young\nfriends, not expecting to have the pleasure of seeing them again; and\n(after a promised visit to Ravenstile,) he proceeded on the following\nThursday to Rostrevor, where he found a numerous audience, (publicly\ncalled together by Lady Lifford, the Rev. Mr Jacobs, and others, to\nreceive him,) already assembled.\n\n\"Here, in the course of teaching a class of children brought to him for\nthe first time, and explaining the nature and capabilities of the\nsystem, reference was made to the above experiment only a few days\nbefore in their neighbourhood at Newry. Two gentlemen,[21] officially\nand intimately connected with the Kildare Place Society of Dublin, being\naccidentally present, were at their own desire introduced to Mr Gall by\na clerical friend after the close of the exercises. The circumstances of\nthe Newry experiment, which had been mentioned during the meeting, were\nstrongly doubted, till affirmed by the clerical friend who introduced\nthem; who, having been present and witnessed it, assured them that the\ncircumstances connected with the event had not been exaggerated. They\nthen stated, that it must of necessity have been a mere transient\nglimpse received of the science by the children; which, being easily\ngot, would be as easily lost; and that its evanescent nature would\nwithout all question be found, by their almost immediately having\nforgotten the whole of what had been told them. Mr Gall, however,\nassured them, that so far from that being the case, he was convinced,\nfrom long experience, that the information communicated would be much\nmore lasting than that received in any other way. That the impressions,\nso repeatedly made upon their minds by the _catechetical exercises_,\nwould remain with them very likely through life; while the effect of the\n_analytical mode_, by which he had linked the whole together, would\nprevent any of the important branches from ever being separated from the\nrest. If, therefore, they remembered any of the truths, they would most\nprobably remember all. And besides, he shewed, that the daily use, in\nthe ordinary business of life, which they would find for the lessons\nfrom the truths taught, would revive part, and perhaps the whole, upon\ntheir memories every day. But as it was of importance that they should\nbe satisfied, and to set the matter at rest, he agreed _to call the boys\nunexpectedly together_ at another public meeting in Newry, where they\nmight be present and judge for themselves; and without seeing or talking\nwith the boys, he would examine them again publicly, and as extensively\nas before; when he was convinced they would shew, that the whole was as\nfresh on their memories as when they at first received it. In short,\nthat they would be able to undergo the most searching ordeal, with\nequal, if not greater ease, than they had done formerly.\n\n\"This was accordingly done. A meeting took place next day, equally\nrespectable, and perhaps more numerous than the former, to which the\nboys were brought from their school, without preparation, or knowing\nwhat they were to be asked. They were then more fully and searchingly\nexamined than at first; and there being more time, they were much longer\nunder the exercise. It was then found, that the information formerly\ncommunicated was not only remembered, but that the several truths were\nmuch more familiar, in themselves and in their connection with each\nother, than they had been at the former meeting. This had evidently\narisen from their own frequent meditations upon them since that time,\nand their application of the several lessons, either with one another,\ntheir parents, or themselves. The medical gentlemen were again present,\nand professed themselves equally pleased.\"\n\nFrom the number and variety of these facts, which might be indefinitely\nextended, it is obvious, that a new path lies open to the Educationist,\nwhich, as yet, has been scarcely entered upon. The same amount of\nsuccess is at the command of every teacher who will follow in the same\ncourse, and keep rigidly in the path pointed out to him by Nature.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[18] Note P.\n\n[19] Note Q.\n\n[20] Complete Directory for Sunday School Teachers, vol. i. p. 267, and\nEffects of the Lesson System, p. 37.\n\n[21] Counsellor Jackson, M. P. Secretary to the Kildare Place Society,\nand Mr Hamilton, brother-in-law to the Duke of Wellington, one of the\nCommittee.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. VII.\n\n_On the Imitation of Nature in Teaching the Practical Use of Knowledge._\n\n\nThe third step in the educational process of Nature we have found to be,\nthe training of her pupil to the practical use of his knowledge.--All\nher other processes, we have seen from numerous circumstances, are\nmerely preparatory and subservient to this; and therefore, the attempt\nat imitation here by the teacher is of corresponding importance. The\npractical application of knowledge must be the great end of all the\npupil's learning; and the parent or teacher should conduct his exercises\nand labours in such a manner as shall be most likely to attain it. The\npowers of the mind are to be cultivated;--but they are to be cultivated\nchiefly that the pupil may be able to collect and make use of his\nknowledge:--And knowledge is to be pursued and stored up;--but this is\nto be done that it may remain at his command, and be readily put to use\nwhen it is required. To suppose any thing else, is to suppose something\ndirectly opposed to all the indications of Nature, and to the plainest\nsuggestions both of reason and experience.\n\nIf in this department then, the teacher is to imitate Nature with\neffect, there are two preliminary objects of which he ought never to\nlose sight. The first is, that he studiously select from the numerous\nsubjects which may form the staple of education, those only, or at least\nchiefly, which are to be most useful, and which may most easily and most\nfrequently be put to use by the pupil;--and the second is, that whatever\nbe the truth or the subject taught, the child should, at the time of\nlearning, be instructed in the methods and the circumstances in which it\nmay be used. To neglect these preliminary points, is really to betray\nthe cause of education, and, besides inflicting a lasting injury on the\nyoung, to deceive the public.\n\nIn our enquiries into Nature's method of applying knowledge, we found,\nin a former chapter, that she employs two distinct agencies in the work.\nThe one we denominated the Natural, or Common Sense; and the other is\nthe Conscience, or Moral Sense:--the one appearing to regulate our\nknowledge in so far as it refers to the promotion of our own personal\nand physical comforts; and the other, in so far as it refers to the\nrights and the well-being of others, and to our own moral good. The\nmethod which she employs in working out these two principles, is, as we\nbefore explained, very nearly the same; consisting of the perception of\nsome useful truth,--the deduction of a lesson from that truth,--and the\napplication of that lesson to corresponding circumstances. On that\naccount, our attempts to imitate her operations as exhibited by the one,\nwill, in form, be nearly the same as in the other. We shall here,\ntherefore, attend to the methods by which Nature may be successfully\nimitated under both agencies, and shall then state a few illustrations\nand facts which are more peculiarly applicable to each in particular.\n\nBefore doing this, however, we cannot help once more pressing upon the\nmind of all connected with education, the great importance--the\nnecessity--of that part of the subject upon which we are now to enter.\nWe have said, and we again repeat, that _this_ is education; and every\nthing else taught to a child is, or ought to be, either preliminary or\nsupplementary;--_belonging_ to education, perhaps, but not education\nitself. It is _practice_, and not _theory_, that constitutes the basis\nof all improvement, whether in the arts, or in morals and religion; and\nit is to this practical application of what he learns, that every child\nshould be trained, by whatever name the mode of doing so may be known.\nAll our blessings are destined to come to us by the use of proper means;\nand this general principle applies both to temporal and spiritual\nmatters. Now \"the use of means,\" is only another mode of expressing \"the\npractical application of knowledge.\" And if so, what are we to think of\nthe philosophy or the candour of the person, who is apparently the\nfriend of education, but who remains indifferent or hostile to the thing\nitself, merely because it is presented to him under another name. He may\nbe a zealous advocate for the spread of knowledge;--but that is not\neducation.--Knowledge is but the _means_,--the application of it is the\n_end_; and when therefore he stops short at the communication of\nknowledge, while he is indifferent to the teaching of its use, he\nendangers the whole of his previous labour. One single truth put to use,\nis of more real value to a child than a thousand are, as long as they\nremain unused; and of this, every friend of the young ought to be\nconvinced. Our health, our food, and our general happiness depend, not\non knowledge _received_, but on knowledge _applied_; and therefore, to\nteach knowledge that is inapplicable or useless, or to teach useful\nknowledge without teaching at the same time how it may be put to use by\nthe pupil, is neither reasonable nor just. Hence the importance of our\npresent investigation; and hence we have no hesitation in saying, that\nthe enquiry, \"How can Nature be most successfully imitated in her\napplication of knowledge?\" is the most momentous question that can be\nput by the teacher; and a successful answer will constitute the most\nprecious boon that can be afforded to education. To assist in this\nenquiry is the design of the present chapter; and we shall accordingly\nexamine a little more in detail the circumstances that take place in the\nexperience of the young, when they are induced to apply their knowledge\nunder the guidance of Nature, and without another teacher.\n\nFor this purpose, let us suppose two children about to cross a piece of\nsoft ground. The one goes forward, and his foot sinks in the mud. Does\nthe other follow him? No indeed. The most stupid child we could find, if\nwithin the limits of sanity, would immediately stand still, or seek a\npassage at another point. Here then is an example of the way in which\nchildren, while entirely under the guidance of Nature, make use of their\nknowledge, by applying the principle of which we are here speaking in\ncases of urgency and danger; and we shall now endeavour to analyse the\nprocess, that we may the more readily arrive at some exercise, by which\nit may be artificially imitated, whether the application be urgent and\nrequired at the moment or not.\n\nWe have supposed one child going forward on the soft ground, while the\nother is slowly following him. When the foot of the first sinks, the\nother instantly stands still; and a spectator can perceive, better\nperhaps than the child himself, that something like the following mental\nprocess takes place on the occasion. The child thinks with himself,\n\"Tom's foot has sunk; if I go forward, I also will sink; I will\ntherefore stand still, or cross at another place.\" This is an exact\nparallel to thousands of similar instances which come under the notice\nof parents and others every day; and is a process quite familiar to\nadults who have paid any attention to the operation of their own minds\nwhen similarly circumstanced. When it is analysed, we find it to\nconsist, as shewn in a former chapter, of three distinct parts, not one\nof which can be left out if the effect is to be produced. There is\nalways, at the commencement of such an operation, the knowledge of some\nfact; \"Tom's foot has sunk.\" There is, secondly, an inference or lesson\ndrawn from this knowledge, \"If I go forward, I also will sink.\" And\nthere is, thirdly, the practical application of that lesson, or\ninference, to the child's present circumstances: \"I will stand still, or\ncross at another place.\"\n\nIt is this process, or one in every point similar, that takes place in\nthe mind, either of the young or the old, whenever they apply the facts\ngleaned by observation or experience for the guidance of their conduct.\nNow what we are at present in search of, is an exercise applicable to\n_reading_, as well as to observation;--to the _school_, as well as to\nthe play ground or the parlour;--and to knowledge whose use may not be\nrequired at the instant, as well as that to which we are driven by\nnecessity.\n\nThe desideratum here desired is to be found by the teacher in the\nmethod, now very extensively known, of drawing lessons from useful\ntruths, and then applying them to the future probable circumstances of\nthe pupils. For example, when a child reads, or is told that Jacob was\npunished by God for cheating his brother and telling a lie, the great\nobject of the parent or teacher is to render these truths\n_practical_,--which the question, \"What does that teach you?\" never\nfails to do. The child, as soon as he knows the design of his teacher in\ncommunicating practical truths, and is asked the above question, will\ntell him, that he ought never to cheat his neighbour, or tell a lie. The\napplication of these lessons, when thus established as a rule of duty\nfounded on Scripture, is as extensive as the circumstances in which they\nmay be required are various;--and the teacher has only to suppose such\na case, and to ask his pupil, if he were placed in these circumstances,\nwhat he should do. The dullest of his children will at once perceive the\nduty, and the source from which he derives confidence in performing it.\n\nThere is no difficulty, as we have seen, in drawing and applying\npractical lessons in cases of urgency, where experience and the common\nsense of the individual prompt him to it;--and this attempt to imitate\nNature in less urgent cases, and especially in hearing, or in the more\nartificial operation of reading, has been found in experience to be\ncompletely successful. We shall endeavour to point this out by a few\nfamiliar examples.\n\nLet us for this purpose suppose, that one of the boys formerly mentioned\nis accompanied by his teacher, instead of his companion, and is\napproaching the soft ground which lies between them and the house.\nBefore they arrive at the spot, his teacher tells him, that the marsh\nbefore them is so soft that even a child's foot would sink if he\nattempted to tread upon it. The boy might hear, and perfectly understand\nthe truth, and yet he might not at the time think of the use to which it\nought to be put. But if the teacher shall immediately add, \"What does\nthat teach you?\"--his attention would instantly be called, not so much\nto the truth itself, as to the uses which ought to be made of it, and\nhis answer in such a plain case would be ready, \"We must not cross\nthere, but seek a road to the house by some other way.\" Now here the\nfact was verbally communicated; and although the object was in sight,\nand the use of the fact might in some measure have been anticipated so\nas to suggest the answer, yet a little consideration will shew, that a\nsimilar effect would have been produced by the question, had the parties\nbeen in the house, or had the truth been derived from reading, and not\nfrom the oral communication of the teacher.\n\nIt is the want of something like this in the acquisition of truth by\nbooks, which renders that kind of knowledge in general of so little\npractical benefit. The truths and facts learned while attending school,\nare too often received as mere abstractions, without reference to their\nuses, or to the personal application of those uses to the circumstances\nof the child or his companions. Events daily occur in which the pupil's\nknowledge might be of important service;--but the benefits to be derived\nfrom it not having been taught, and the method of applying the facts\nwhich he has acquired by reading not having been explained,--the\nknowledge and its uses are seldom seen together, and the practical\nbenefit of the teaching is accordingly lost. This at once accounts for\nthe very remarkable circumstance, that children, and not unfrequently\nadults also, derive far more benefit from the scanty knowledge which\nthey have gleaned by observation and experience, than from the many\nthousands of highly useful facts which have again and again been pressed\nupon their notice by reading and study. In almost every case Nature\nprompts us, as we have seen, to turn to our own benefit the knowledge\nwhich she has imparted; but as the mode of teaching reading, which is\nthe _artificial_ method of acquiring information, often overlooks the\nuse we are to make of it, we remain satisfied with the knowledge itself,\nand do not think of its application. To illustrate this fact in some\nmeasure, let us suppose a basket of filberts set down for the use of a\ncompany of boys, and that one of them tries to crack the shells with his\nfront teeth. He fails. But he sees his companions put the nuts farther\nback in the mouth, and succeed. Does he lose his share, by continuing to\nmisapply the lever-power provided for him by Nature?--No indeed. He, by\na single observation, at once draws and applies the lesson;--he\nimmediately cracks his nuts as readily as his companions, and he\ncontinues to do so all his lifetime after. But the same boy may have,\nthat very forenoon, been reading a treatise on the power of the lever,\nand might read it again and again without considering himself at all\ninterested in the matter, or thinking it probable that he ever would.\nHis reading, without the application we are here recommending, would\nnever have led him to perceive the slightest similarity between the\nfulcrum of the lever, and the insertion of his jaw; or any connection\nbetween the lesson of the school, and the employment of the\nparlour:--But that would.\n\nThis is but one of a thousand examples that might be given, of the evils\narising from the non-application of knowledge in reading, and which are\napplicable, not to children merely, but also to adults. The drawing and\napplying of lessons, the exercise which we are here recommending, has\nbeen found a valuable remedy for this defect in ordinary reading. The\nobject of the teacher by its use, is to accomplish in the pupil by\n_reading_, what we have shewn Nature so frequently does by\n_observation_;--that is, to train the child to apply for his own use, or\nthe use of others, those truths which he acquires from his _book_, in\nthe same way that he does those which he derives from _experience_. To\nillustrate this, we shall instance a few cases of every day occurrence,\nin which the question, \"What does this teach you?\" when supplemented to\nthe fact communicated, will almost invariably answer the purpose\ndesired, whether the truth from which the lesson is to be drawn, has\nbeen received by observation, by oral instruction, or by reading.\n\nWhen an observing well-disposed child sees a school-fellow praised and\nrewarded for being obliging and kind to the aged or the poor, there is\nformed in the mind of that child, more or less distinctly, a resolution\nto follow the example on the first opportunity. Here is the fact and the\nlesson, with the application in prospect. This whole feeling may be\nfaint and evanescent, but it is real; and it only wants the cultivating\nhand of the teacher to arrest it, and to render it permanent.\nAccordingly, if on the child hearing the praise given to his companion\nfor being kind and obliging to the poor, he had at the time been asked,\n\"What does that teach you?\" the lesson suggested by Nature would\ninstantly have assumed a tangible form; and in communicating the answer\nto the teacher, both the truth and the lesson would have been brought\nmore distinctly before the mind, and the reply, \"I should be kind and\nobliging to the poor,\" would tend to fix the duty on the memory, and\nwould be a good preparation for putting it in practice when the next\noccasion should occur.\n\nAgain, if another thoughtful and well disposed child sees a companion\nseverely punished for telling a lie, the question, \"What does that teach\nme?\" is in some shape or degree formed in his mind, and his resolution,\nhowever faint, is taken to avoid that sin in future. This, it is\nobvious, is nothing more than a practical answer to the above question,\nforced upon the child by the directness of the circumstances, but which\nwould not have so readily made its appearance, or produced its effect,\nin cases of a less obtrusive kind, or in one of more remote application;\nand every person must see, that the beneficial effects desired would\nhave been more definite, more effectual, and much more permanent, had\nthis faint indication of Nature's intention been followed up by orally\nasking the question at the child, and requiring him audibly to return an\nanswer.\n\nLet us once more suppose a child in the act of reading the history of\nCain and Abel, in the manner in which it is commonly read by the young,\nand that the child thoroughly understands all the circumstances. He may\nbe deeply interested in the story, while the uses to be made of it may\nnot be very clearly perceived. But if, after reading any one of the\nmoral circumstances, such as \"Cain hated his brother,\" or after having\nit announced to him by the teacher, he was asked, \"What does that teach\nyou?\" the practical use of the truth would at once be forced upon his\nmind, and he would now very readily answer, \"It teaches me that I should\nnot hate my brother.\" In this case also, it is quite obvious, that\nwithout such a question having been proposed, and the answer to it\ngiven, the practical uses of the truth recorded might have been\naltogether overlooked; and even although they had not, still the\nquestion and its answer will always have the effect of making them stand\nout much more prominently before the mind, and will enable the memory to\nhold them more tenaciously, and bring them forth more readily for\npractice, than if such an operation had been neglected. Hence the great\nimportance of training the young by this exercise early to perceive the\nuses of every kind of knowledge, particularly Scriptural knowledge;\nbecause the habit formed in youth, will continue to render every useful\ntruth of practical benefit during life.\n\nWe may remark here, that the exercise is not limited in its application\nto the young. For if an adult were first told, that the squalid beggar\nbefore him, though once respectable and rich, had made himself wretched\nby a course of idleness and dissipation, and were then asked, \"What does\nthat teach you?\" he would instantly perceive the lesson, and would be\nstimulated to apply it. When, in like manner, the farmer is told that\nhis neighbour has ruined himself by over-cropping his ground; or the\niron master, that the use of the hot-blast has doubled the profits of\nhis rival; a similar question would at once lead to the legitimate\nconclusion, and most likely to the proper conduct.\n\nIn all these examples, the operation of mind which we have endeavoured\nto describe, is so exceedingly simple, that it is perhaps difficult to\ndecide how much is the work of Nature, and how much belongs to the\nexercise here recommended. This at once proves its efficiency, as an\nimitation of her process, in following her in the path which she has\nhere pointed out; and it at the same time recommends itself as strictly\naccordant with observation and experience. The teacher then, in order to\nrender the knowledge he communicates useful, has only to do regularly\nand by system, that which, under the direction of Nature, every\nintelligent and enquiring mind in its best moments does for itself.\nWherever a useful truth has been communicated in the school or family,\nor a moral act or precept has been read or announced, the question by\nthe parent or the teacher, \"What does that teach you?\" will lead the\npupil to reflection, not only on its nature, but on its use; and the\nability to do so, as we shall afterwards see, may be acquired by almost\nany individual with ease. Regular training in this way, leads directly\nto habits of reflection and observation, which are of themselves of\ngreat value; but which, when found acting in connection with the desire\nand ability to turn every truth observed into a practical channel,\nbecome doubly estimable, and a public blessing. The pupil therefore\nought early to be trained of himself to supplement the question, \"What\ndoes this teach me?\" or, \"What can I learn from this?\" to every\ncircumstance or truth to which his attention is called; because the\nability to answer it forms the chief, if not the only correct measure of\na well educated person. In proof of this it is only necessary to remark,\nthat as it is not the man who has accumulated the greatest amount of\nanatomical and surgical knowledge, but he who can make the best use of\nit, that is really the best surgeon; so it is not the man who has\n_acquired_ the largest portion of knowledge, but he who _can make the\nbest use_ of the largest portion, that is the best scholar. Hence it is,\nthat all the exercises in a child's education should have in view the\npractical use of what he learns, and of what he is to continue through\nlife to learn, as the great end to which all his learning should be\nsubservient.\n\nThe moral advantages likely to result from the general adoption of this\nmode of teaching useful knowledge are exceedingly cheering, and the only\nsurprise is, that it has been so long overlooked. That the principle,\nthough not directly applied to the purposes of education, was well\nknown, and frequently practised by our forefathers, appears obvious from\nmany of their valuable writings. One beautiful example of its\napplication is familiar to thousands, though not always perceived, in\nthe illustration given of the Lord's prayer towards the close of the\nAssembly's Larger and Shorter Catechisms. The study of the lessons there\ndrawn from the truths stated or implied in that prayer, will afford a\nbetter idea of the value of this mode of teaching, than perhaps any\nfarther explanation we could give, and to these therefore we refer the\nreader.\n\nBefore closing these general observations upon the value and necessity\nof this method of training the young to the practical use of knowledge,\nthere is a circumstance which should not be omitted, as it tends to\ndouble all the advantages of the exercise, both to the teacher and the\npupil. It will be found in general, especially in morals, that every\npractical lesson that is drawn from a truth or passage, actually\nembodies two,--both of which are equally legitimate and connected with\nthe subject. There is always a _negative_ lesson implied, when the\n_positive_ lesson is expressed; and there is in like manner a _positive_\nimplied, whenever it is the _negative_ that is expressed. As for\nexample, when the child, from the history of Cain and Abel, draws the\nnegative lesson that he should _not hate_ his brother; the opposite of\nthat lesson is equally binding in the positive form, that he should\n_love_ his brother. And when, from the history of Job, the positive\nlesson is drawn that we ought to be patient; the negative of that lesson\nbecomes equally binding, and the child may, by the very same fact, be\ntaught and enjoined not to be fretful, discontented, or impatient,\nduring sickness or trouble. Of this method of multiplying the practical\nuses of knowledge, we have a most appropriate example in the Assembly's\nLarger and Shorter Catechisms, where the illustrations given of the\ndecalogue are conducted upon this important principle, and in a similar\nway.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. VIII.\n\n_On the Imitation of Nature in Teaching the Use of Knowledge by means of\nthe Animal or Common Sense._\n\n\nA large portion of what has been advanced in the foregoing chapter, has\nreference to the practical application of all kinds of knowledge,\nwhether by the Animal or Moral sense; and we shall here offer a few\nadditional remarks on the teaching of those branches which are more\nimmediately connected with the former.\n\nWhen a person is sent to learn an art or trade, such as a carpenter, he\nis not sent to hear lectures, or to get merely an abstract knowledge of\nthe several truths connected with it; but he is sent to practise the\nlittle knowledge that he is able of himself to pick up. His is a\npractical learning; ninety-nine parts in every hundred being employed in\nthe practice, for one that is employed in acquiring the abstract\nprinciples of his occupation. When, on the contrary, a child is sent to\nschool, to prepare him for this practical application of his knowledge,\nthe former proportions are generally reversed, and ninety-nine parts of\nhis time and labour are taken up in attaining abstract knowledge, for\none that is occupied in assisting him to reduce it to practice. Both\nmodes of teaching the boy are obviously wrong. He would, when sent to\nit, learn his business in much less time by a previous acquaintance with\nits principles; and all these ought to have been furnished him as a\npart of his general knowledge while he attended the school. Such\ninformation, indeed, ought to have formed a large portion of his\neducation;--and it will be a matter of surprise to every one who closely\nconsiders the subject, how soon and how easily the principles, even of\nso complicated a trade as a carpenter, may be acquired when they are\ntaught in the right way, and at the proper time. A few of the simplest\nprinciples in mechanics practically learned,--a knowledge of the\nstrength and adhesion of bodies,--of the nature of edge tools,--and the\nimportance of accuracy and caution, might have been made familiar to him\nwhile attending his studies; and if carefully and constantly reduced to\npractice, these would have been of the greatest service to him when\ncalled to the work-shop.\n\nThe methods by which natural philosophy ought to be taught in schools,\nmust partake of all the laws which Nature employs in the several parts\nof her teaching. Individuation, Grouping, and especially Analysis, must\nbe rigidly attended to. By dividing all the subjects of general\nknowledge into the two grand divisions of Terrestrial and Celestial, and\nthese again into their several parts, the whole field of useful\nknowledge would be mapped out, and connected together, so that each\nsubject would occupy a distinct place of its own, and be readily found\nwhen it was required. The facts, or at least the most useful facts\nconnected with each of these, would very soon be communicated; and when\nturned into a popular and useful form, by drawing and applying the\ncorresponding lessons, the ease and delight of laying up these precious\nstores of useful knowledge by children, will not be easily conceived by\nthose who have not witnessed it.\n\nWith respect to _the ease_ with which this method of communicating\nknowledge can be accomplished, we may remark in general, that when a\nprinciple has been explained, and has become familiar to the child, all\nthe phenomena arising out of it, when pointed out, are readily perceived\nand retained upon the memory in connection with it. For example, by a\nknowledge of the principle which teaches that fluids press equally on\nall sides, when considered in connection with the weight of the\natmosphere, a child, with very little trouble, would be put into the\nfull possession of the cause of many facts in natural philosophy,\nexceedingly dissimilar in their appearance, but which are all mastered\nwith ease and intelligence by a knowledge of this law. When the\nprinciple and its mode of working have been explained, the child is\nprovided with a key, by which he may, in the exercise of his own powers,\nunlock one by one all the mysterious phenomena of the air and common\npump, the cupping-glass, the barometer, the old steam and fire engine,\nthe toy sucker and pop-gun, the walking of a fly on the ceiling, the\nascent of smoke in the chimney, the sipping of tea from a cup, the\nsucking of a wound, and the true cause of the inspiration and expiration\nof the air in breathing. To teach these singly, would obviously be\nexceedingly troublesome to the teacher, and laborious for the child; but\nwhen thus linked together, as similar effects from the same cause, they\nare understood at once, and each of them helps to illustrate and explain\nall the others. They are received without confusion, and are remembered\nwithout difficulty. All this may in general be done even with children,\nas we shall immediately prove, by the method recommended above, of\nrequiring, after the illustration of the principle, the lessons which it\nis calculated to teach.\n\nThe results of this simple method of imitating Nature in one of the most\nvaluable of her processes, have been found remarkably uniform and\nsuccessful; and when it shall be regularly brought into operation in\nconnection with the other parts of the system, it promises to be still\nmore valuable and extensive. But even already, with all the\ndisadvantages of time, place, and persons, the importance and\nefficiency of the exercise have been highly satisfactory. We shall\nshortly advert to a few instances of its success, which have been\npublicly exhibited and recorded.\n\nThe criminals in the jail of Edinburgh, after three weeks teaching, had\nacquired a considerable degree of expertness in perceiving and drawing\nlessons from the moral circumstances which they read from Scripture. In\nthe report of that experiment, the examinators say, \"They gave a\ndistinct account, (from the book of Genesis,) of the prominent facts,\nfrom Adam, down to the settlement in Goshen, and shewed by their\nanswers, that the circumstances were understood by them, in their proper\nnature and bearings. From each peculiar circumstance, they deduced an\nappropriate lesson, calculated to guide their conduct, when placed in a\nlike, or analogous situation. It is within the truth to allege, that in\nthis part of their examination, they submitted upwards of fifty palpable\nlessons, that cannot fail, we would conceive, hereafter to have a\npowerful influence upon their affections and deportment.\"\n\nIn the experiments both in Newry and London, the children were found\nquite adequate to the exercise; and in the latter instance, three\nchildren, who at their first lesson did not know they had a soul, were\nable to perceive and to draw lessons from almost any moral truth or fact\npresented to them. This they did repeatedly when publicly examined by\nthe Committee of the London Sunday School Union, in presence of a large\nbody of clergymen, and a numerous congregation in the Poultry Chapel.\nBut we shall at present direct attention more particularly to the\nchildren selected from the several schools in Aberdeen, as given in the\nReport by Principal Jack, and the Professors and Clergymen in that\nplace. After mentioning, that these children, so very ignorant only\neight days before, had acquired a thorough acquaintance with the\nleading facts in Old Testament History, they say, \"From the various\nincidents in the Sacred Record, with which they had thus been brought so\nclosely into contact, they drew, as they proceeded, a variety of\npractical lessons, evincing, that they clearly perceived, not only the\nnature and qualities of the actions, whether good or evil, of the\npersons there set before them, but the use that ought to be made of such\ndescriptions of character, as examples or warnings, intended for\napplication to the ordinary business of life.\n\n\"They were next examined, in the same way, on several sections of the\nNew Testament, from which they had also learned to point out the\npractical lessons, so important and necessary for the regulation of the\nheart and life. The Meeting, as well as this Committee, were surprised\nat the minute and accurate acquaintance which they displayed with the\nmultiplicity of objects presented to them,--at the great extent of the\nrecord over which they had travelled,--and at the facility with which\nthey seemed to draw useful lessons from almost every occurrence\nmentioned in the passages which they had read.\"\n\nThey were able also to apply this same principle,--the practical\napplication of useful knowledge,--to the perusal of civil history, and\nalso biography. The report states, that \"they were examined on that\nportion of the History of England, embraced by the reign of Charles I.\nand the Commonwealth; and from the details of this period, they drew\nfrom the _same circumstances_, or announcements, political, domestic,\nand personal lessons, as these applied to a nation, to a family, and to\nindividuals;--lessons which it ought be the leading design of history to\nfurnish, though, both by the writers and readers of history, this\nCommittee are sorry to say, they are too generally overlooked.\n\n\"They were then examined on biography,--the Life of the late Rev. John\nNewton being chosen for that purpose; from whose history they also drew\nsome very useful practical lessons, and seemed very desirous of\nenlarging, but had to be restrained, as the time would not permit.\"\n\nThe practicability and the importance of teaching children to apply the\nsame valuable principle to every branch and portion of natural\nphilosophy were also ascertained. The same report, after stating the\nfact, that the children scientifically described to the meeting numerous\nobjects presented to them from the several kingdoms of Nature, goes on\nto say, that \"here also they found no want of capacity or of materials\nfor practical lessons. A boy, after describing copper as possessing\npoisonous qualities, and stating, that cooking utensils, as well as\nmoney, were made of it, was asked what practical lessons he could draw\nfrom these circumstances, replied, That no person should put halfpence\nin his mouth; and that people should take care to keep clean pans and\nkettles.\"\n\nThe common school boys in Newry also found no difficulty in the\nexercise, as applied to the abstruse and difficult sciences of anatomy\nand physiology. The account of that experiment, says, that they were\n\"examined as to the _uses_ which they ought to make of all this\ninformation, by drawing practical lessons from the several truths.\nAccordingly, announcements from the different branches of the science\nwere given, from which they now very readily drew numerous and valuable\npractical lessons, several of which were given at this time of\nthemselves, and which had not been previously taught them. These were\ndrawn directly from the announcements; and all, according to their\nnature, calculated to be exceedingly useful for promoting the health,\nthe comfort, and the general happiness of themselves, their friends, or\ntheir companions.\"\n\nBut by far the most extensive and satisfactory evidence of the value and\nefficiency of this exercise, in the mental and moral training of the\nyoung, was afforded by the experiment undertaken at the request of the\nLesson System Association of Leith, and conducted in the Assembly Rooms\nthere, in the presence of the Magistrates and Clergy of that town, of\nBishop Russell, Lord Murray, (then Lord Advocate,) and a numerous\nmeeting of the friends of education. The children were those connected\nwith a Sabbath school, who had been regularly trained by their teacher,\na plain but pious workman of the town, to draw lessons every Sabbath\nfrom the several subjects and passages of Scripture taught them. To give\nall the specimens which afford evidence of the value and efficiency of\nthis exercise in the education of children, would be to transcribe the\nreport of the Association; we shall therefore confine ourselves to a few\nof the circumstances only, which were taken in short-hand by a public\nreporter who was present.\n\nAfter some important and satisfactory exercises on the being and\nattributes of God, from which the children drew many valuable practical\nlessons, it is said, that the examinator \"expressed his entire\nsatisfaction with the result, and remarked, that he himself was\nastonished, not only at the immense store of biblical knowledge\npossessed by these children, but the power which they possessed over it,\nand the facility with which they could, on any occasion, use it in\n'giving a reason for the hope that is in them.' He then proceeded to the\nnext subject of examination which had been prescribed to him, which was,\nto ascertain the extent of their mental powers and literary attainments,\nwhich would be most satisfactorily shown by their ability to read the\nBible profitably; and for this purpose he requested that some of the\nclergymen present would suggest _any_ passage from the New Testament on\nwhich to exercise them. The Rev. Dr Russell (now Bishop Russell,)\nsuggested the parable of the labourers hired at different hours, Matt.\nxx. 1-16. Mr Gall accordingly read it distinctly, verse by verse,\ncatechising the children as he proceeded, and then made them relate the\nwhole in their own words, which they did most correctly.\n\n\"Mr Gall then selected some of the verses, and called upon them to\nseparate the circumstances, or parts of each verse, and to state each as\na separate proposition. This also they did with the greatest ease; and\nin some cases a variety of divisions were brought forward, thus proving\nthe high intellectual powers which they had acquired, and the ease with\nwhich they could analyse any passage, however difficult.\n\n\"It was next to be ascertained what power the children had acquired of\ndrawing lessons from Scripture; and for this purpose, Mr Gall, in order\nto husband the time of the meeting, confined the children's attention to\none verse only, and proposed to submit each of the moral circumstances\ncontained in that verse, one by one, as they themselves had divided it.\nThe following are the lessons drawn by the children, as taken down in\nshort-hand by the Reporter.\n\n\"_Mr G._--The householder invited labourers at the eleventh hour;--what\ndoes that teach you?--It teaches us, that God at various seasons calls\npeople to his church.--It teaches us, that we ought never to despair,\nbut bear in mind the language of Jesus to the repentant thief on the\ncross,--'To-day shalt thou be with me in paradise.'--It teaches us, that\nwe ought not to boast of to-morrow, since we know not what a day or an\nhour may bring forth.--It teaches us, that time is short, and that life\nis the only period for preparation and hope.--It teaches us, that we\nought to be prepared,--have our loins girt, and our lamps burning; for\nwe know neither the day nor the hour wherein the Son of Man cometh.--It\nteaches us, that we ought to number our days, and apply our hearts to\nheavenly wisdom.--It teaches us, that we ought not to put off the day of\nrepentance; because for every day we put it off, we shall have one more\nto repent _of_, and one less to repent _in_.--It teaches us,\n\n 'That life is the season God hath given\n To fly from hell, and rise to heaven;\n That day of grace fleets fast away,\n And none its rapid course can stay.'\n\n\"Mr Gall here requested the children to pause for a moment, that he\nmight express the high gratification he felt at the fluency, the\nreadiness, and the appropriateness of the lessons which they had drawn.\nHe was only afraid that they had inadvertently fallen upon a passage\nwith which the children were familiar, by having had it recently under\ntheir notice; and he therefore requested Mr Cameron to state to the\nmeeting whether this was really the case or not. Mr Cameron rose and\nsaid, that what the meeting now saw was no more than could be seen any\nSunday in the Charlotte Street School. They had not had any preparation\nfor this meeting; and he did not remember of ever having had this\npassage taught in the school. He would recommend that the children be\nallowed a little freedom; and when they were done with that\nannouncement, let any other be taken, for it was the same to them\nwhatever subject might be chosen.\n\n\"Mr Gall accordingly repeated the announcement again, and called on them\nto proceed with any other lessons from it which occurred to them. They\naccordingly commenced again, and answered as follows: It teaches us,\nthat we ought to remember our Creator in the days of our youth, while\nthe evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh in which we shall say we\nhave no pleasure in them.--It teaches us, that we ought to prepare for\ndeath; to gird up our loins, and trim our lamps, lest it be said unto us\nin the great day of the Lord, when he maketh up his jewels, 'Depart from\nme, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his\nangels.'--It teaches us so to conduct ourselves, that whether we live\nwe live unto the Lord, and whether we die we die unto the Lord; and that\nwhether we live therefore or die, we may be the Lord's; for to that end\nChrist both died, and rose, and revived, that he might be Lord both of\nthe dead and the living.[22]--It teaches us to improve our time lest we\nfind that the harvest is past, and the summer ended, and us not\nsaved.--It teaches us, that we ought to study, in that whether we eat or\ndrink, or whatsoever we do, we do all to the glory of God.--It teaches\nus, that we ought to endeavour to secure an interest in Christ in\ntime.--It teaches us, that delays are dangerous.--It teaches us, that\nthe day of the Lord cometh like a thief in the night, and that when\nsinners shall say, 'Peace and safety,' sudden destruction cometh upon\nthem.--It teaches us, that we ought to acquaint ourselves early with\nGod; and that we ought to walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise,\nredeeming the time, because the days are evil.--It teaches us, that we\nought to seek the Lord while he may be found, and call upon him while he\nis near; that the wicked ought to forsake his way, and the unrighteous\nman his thoughts, and let him return unto the Lord, who will have mercy\nupon him, and to our God, who will abundantly pardon.--It teaches us to\nimprove our time; and to bear in mind, that though patriarchs lived\nlong, the burden of the historian's tale is always, 'and they died.'--It\nteaches us, that we ought not to allow pleasures and enjoyments to\ninterfere with, or overcome, our more important duty of seeking God.--It\nteaches us, that we are never too young to pray, and to remember that\nGod says, 'Now;'--the devil, 'To-morrow.'\n\n\"Mr Gall here took advantage of a short pause, and said, 'We shall now\nchange the announcement. Give me a few lessons from the fact stated in\nthis parable, that _when the husbandman invited the labourers into the\nvineyard at the eleventh hour, they accepted the invitation_.--What does\nthat teach you?'--It teaches us, that we ought to accept the invitation\nof Jesus to come with him, 'Ho! every one that thirsteth, come ye to the\nwaters, and he that hath no money; come ye buy and eat; yea, come, buy\nwine and milk without money, and without price. Seek ye the Lord while\nhe may be found; call upon him while he is near. Let the wicked forsake\nhis way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts, and let him return unto\nthe Lord, who will have mercy upon him, and to our God, for he will\nabundantly pardon.'--It teaches us, that we ought to show a willingness\nto accept the invitation of Christ, since 'he is not willing that any\nshould perish, but that all should come unto him and live.'--It teaches\nus, that we ought to accept the invitation of Christ, since we are\ninformed in the Scriptures, 'that whosoever cometh unto him he will in\nno ways cast out.' It teaches us, that we ought to accept of the\ninvitation of Christ; for the Bible informs us, that the invitation is\nheld forth to all; 'for whosoever will, let him take of the waters of\nlife freely.'--'Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden,\nand I will give you rest.'--It teaches us, that we ought not to hesitate\nin accepting the invitation of Christ; for God says he will not always\nstrive with man.\n\n\"Mr Gall here again expressed not only his satisfaction, but his\nastonishment, at the success with which Mr Cameron had taught the\nScriptures to these children. This exhibited itself in two ways;\n_first_, in enabling them to draw lessons from any passage of Scripture;\nand _second_, in having so disposed of what Scripture they had already\nbeen taught, that whenever a doctrine or duty was to be brought before\nthem, scriptural declarations crowded around them 'as a light to their\nfeet, and a lamp to their path.' He himself had no doubt that the\nchildren were no more prepared upon this passage than upon any other;\nbut it would exhibit this fact more satisfactorily, if _another_ passage\nwere selected, which he requested some of the gentlemen present to do.\n\n\"The clergymen present accordingly requested Mr Gall to try the\nconcluding portion of the second chapter of Luke, which details Christ's\nvisit to Jerusalem at twelve years of age. After having read and\ncatechised the children on this passage, as he had done on the former,\nhe proceeded at once to call for lessons. Mr Gall gave us the\nannouncement that _'Joseph and Mary worshipped God in public_,' and\nasked for one or two lessons from this? It teaches us, that we ought to\nworship God both in public and in private.--It teaches us, that no\ntrifles ought to hinder us from worshipping God.--One child quoted the\nfollowing verse:--\n\n 'Come then, O house of Jacob, come,\n   And worship at his shrine!\n And walking in the light of God,\n   With holy beauties shine.'\n\n\"Mr Gall then said, Let us change the announcement: 'Joseph and Mary\nwent regularly every year to the feast of the passover?'--What does that\nteach you?--That teaches us, that we ought to attend the house of God\nregularly.--It teaches that we ought to attend church both times of the\nday.--It teaches us that we ought to worship God regularly; for God\nloveth order, and not confusion.\n\n\"Let us change the announcement again. 'Jesus attended the passover when\nhe was twelve years of age.' What does this teach you?--It teaches us,\nthat parents should train up their children in the way they should\ngo.--It teaches us, that learning young is learning fair.--It teaches\nus, that children should never be thought too young to be brought up in\nthe fear of the Lord.--It teaches us, that children should obey their\nparents.--What are we to learn from their 'fulfilling the days?'--It\nteaches us, that we should not leave the church until the sermon is\nover.--It teaches us, that we ought not to disturb others by leaving the\nchurch.\"\n\nRemarkable as this exhibition was of the attainment of extraordinary\nmental power by mere children, yet it is but justice to say, that the\nabove is merely a specimen of the elasticity and grasp of mind which\nthese children had acquired. Some idea of the extent of this may be\nformed when it is considered, that all these passages and, subjects were\nchosen for them at the moment, and by strangers. And it is worthy of\nremark, that if such an amount of mental power, and such an accumulation\nof knowledge, of the best and most practical kind, were easily and\npleasantly acquired by children in the lowest ranks of life, of their\nown voluntary choice, under every disadvantage, and with no more than\ntwo hours teaching in the week; what may we not expect, when the\nprinciples here developed, are wielded and applied by those who\nthoroughly understand them, not for two hours, with an interval of six\nbusy days, but every day of the week?--The prospect is cheering.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[22] At this part, the Report of the Experiment contains the following\nNote:--\"The reader will perceive that some of the lessons diverge at\ntimes from the announcement; but it is of great importance, in an\nexperiment of this kind, neither to omit nor amend what is wrong, but to\ngive exactly the words that were spoken. Not the least remarkable\ncircumstance elicited by this experiment is the fact, that these\nchildren, who know nothing of the rules of grammar, have obviously, by\nthe mental exercise induced by the system, become pretty correct\npractical grammarians. The variations made in many of the passages of\nScripture quoted by them show this.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. IX.\n\n_On the Imitation of Nature in Teaching the Practical Use of Knowledge\nby means of the Moral Sense, or Conscience._\n\n\nIn a former chapter we endeavoured to collect a few facts specially\nconnected with the moral sense, as exhibited in the young, and the\nmethods which Nature employs, when conscience is made use of for the\napplication of their knowledge.[23] We shall in this chapter offer a few\nadditional remarks on the imitation of Nature in this important\ndepartment; but before doing so, it will be proper to clear our way by\nmaking a few preliminary observations.\n\nNo one disputes the general principle, that education is proper for\nman;--and if so, then education must be beneficial in all circumstances,\nand at every period of his life. In particular, were we to ask whether\neducation were necessary in early childhood, and infancy, universal\nexperience would at once answer the question, and would demonstrate,\nthat it is much more necessary and more valuable at that season, than at\nany future period of the individual's life. In proof of this, we find,\nthat enlightened restraint upon the temper, and a regulating care with\nregard to the conduct, are productive of the most beneficial results;\nwhile, on the contrary, when this discipline is neglected, the violence\nof self-will generally becomes so strong, and the checks upon the temper\nso weak, that the character of the child formed at this period may be\nsuch as to make him for life his own tormentor, and the pest of all with\nwhom he is to be associated.--No one can reasonably deny this; and the\nconclusion is plain, that education of some kind or other is really more\nnecessary for the infant and the child, than it is either for the youth\nor the man.\n\nIf this general principle be once admitted, and we set it down as an\naxiom that the infant and the child are to learn _something_,--it\nnaturally follows, that we are required to teach them those useful\nthings for which Nature has more especially fitted them; while we are\nforbidden to force branches of knowledge upon them of which they are\nincapable. Our object then, ought to be to ascertain both the positive\nand the negative of this proposition; endeavouring to find out what the\ninfant and child _are_ capable of learning, and what they _are not_. Now\nit is an important fact, not only that infants and young children are\npeculiarly fitted, by the constitution of their minds and affections,\nfor learning and practising the principles of religion and morals; but\nit is still more remarkable, that they are, for a long period, incapable\nof learning or practising any thing else. If this can be established,\nthen nothing can be more decisive as to the intention of Nature, that\nmoral and religious training, is not only the great end in view by a\ncourse of education generally, but that it is, and ought always to be,\nthe first object of the parent and teacher, and the only true and solid\nbasis upon which they are to build all that is to follow. Let us\ntherefore for a moment enquire a little more particularly into this\nimportant subject.\n\nWhen we carefully examine the conduct of an enlightened and affectionate\nmother or nurse with the infant, as soon as it can distinguish right\nfrom wrong and good from evil, we find it to consist of two kinds, which\nare perfectly distinct from each other. The one regards the comfort and\nphysical welfare of the child;--the other regards the regulation of its\ntemper, its passions, and its conduct. It is of the latter only that we\nare here to speak.\n\nWhen this moral training of the judicious mother is examined, we find it\nuniformly and entirely to consist in an indefatigable watchfulness in\npreventing or checking whatever is evil in the child, and in\nencouraging, and teaching, and training to the practice of whatever is\ngood. She is careful to enforce obedience and submission in every\ncase;--to win and encourage the indications of affection; to check\nretaliation or revenge; to subdue the violence of passion or inordinate\ndesire;--to keep under every manifestation of self-will;--and to soothe\ndown and banish every appearance of fretfulness and bad temper. In\nshort, she trains her young charge to feel and to practise all the\namiable and kindly affections of our nature, encouraging and commending\nhim in their exercise;--while, on the contrary, she prevents,\ndiscourages, reproves, and if necessary punishes, the exhibition of\ndispositions and conduct of an opposite kind. This, as every one who has\nexamined the subject knows, is the sum and substance of the mother's\neducational efforts during this early period of her child's\nprogress;--and what we wish to press upon the observation of the reader\nis, that the child at this period is literally incapable of learning any\nthing else which at all deserves the name of education. He may be taught\nto be obedient; to be submissive; to be kind and obliging; to moderate,\nand even to suppress his passions; to controul his wishes and his\nwill;--to be forbearing and forgiving;--and to be gentle, peaceable,\norderly, cleanly, and perhaps mannerly. Is there any thing else?--Is\nthere any one element of a different kind, that ever does, or ever can\nenter into the course of an infant or young child's education? If there\nbe, what is it?--Let it be examined;--and we have no hesitation in\nsaying, that if it be \"education,\" or any thing that deserves the name,\nit will be found to resolve itself into some one or other of the moral\nqualities which we have above enumerated. If therefore children, during\nthe earlier stages of their educational progress are to be taught at\nall, religion and morals _must_ be, the subjects, seeing that they are\nfor a long period capable of learning nothing else. And it is here\nworthy of especial notice, that in teaching religion and morals, there\nis a negative as well as a positive scale;--and experience has uniformly\ndemonstrated, that if the parent or teacher neglect to improve the child\nby raising him in the positive side, he will, by his own efforts, sink\ndeeper in the negative. Selfishness, as exhibited in the natural\ndepravity of human nature, will in all such cases strengthen daily; and\nall the evil passions which selfishness and self-will call into\nexercise, will then be strengthened and confirmed perhaps for life.\n\nBut while we perceive that the young are incapable of learning any thing\nelse than what is properly termed religion and morals, we find it to be\nequally true, that they are peculiarly fitted and furnished by Nature\nfor making rapid and permanent progress whenever religion and morals are\nmade the subjects of regular instruction and training. Few who have\nconsidered carefully the facts stated above, will question the accuracy\nof this assertion in so far as _morals_ are concerned; but there are\nsome who will doubt the capacity of infants and children to be\ninfluenced by _religion_. Now this doubt arises from not observing the\ndifference,--and the only difference,--that exists between morality and\nreligion. A man or a child is _moral_ when he is kind and forgiving for\nhis own sake, and to please himself or his parents;--but he is\n_religious_ when he does the same thing for conscience sake, and to\nplease God. Now children, by the very constitution of their minds, are\nwell fitted for receiving all that kind of religious knowledge which\nacts upon the feelings, and influences the conduct; while the heart is\npeculiarly sensitive, and is disposed to bend under the influence of\nevery expression of affection and tenderness exhibited by others towards\nthem. Their faith in all that they are told, as we have seen, is\nunhesitating and entire; and the capacity of their lively imaginations,\nfor comprehending things mighty and sublime, which is too often abused\nby the ideas of giants, and ogres, and ghosts, is sanctified and refined\nby hearing of the greatness, and goodness, and love of the great Creator\nof heaven and of earth. When they are informed of his affection and\ntenderness to them individually;--of his mercy and grace in saving them\nfrom the awful consequences of sin by the substitution of his own Son\nfor their sakes;--of his numerous benefits, and his unceasing care;--of\nhis constant presence with them though unseen; and of his hatred of\nsin, and his love of holiness;--there is no mixture of doubt to\nneutralize the effects of these truths; and they much more willingly and\nunreservedly give themselves up to their influence, than those who are\nolder. Hence, the repeated declarations of our Lord, that \"unless we\nbecome as little children, we shall in no case enter into the kingdom of\nGod.\" A simple enumeration therefore of the benefits they have received\nfrom this kind and condescending heavenly Father, is well fitted to fill\nthe heart of an unsophisticated child with affection and zeal,--and most\npowerfully to constrain him to avoid every thing that he is told will\ngrieve and offend him, and to watch for opportunities to do what he now\nknows will honour and please him. This is religion; and it is peculiarly\nthe religion of the young;--and that man or woman will be found most\nreligious, who, both in spirit and in action, shall approach nearest to\nit in its purity and simplicity.\n\nFrom all these considerations we see, that Nature has intended that the\nfirst part of the child's education shall consist almost exclusively of\nmoral and religious training;--and this we think cannot be disputed by\nany one who considers the above facts dispassionately, or who will allow\nhis mind to act as it ought to do under the influence of ascertained\ntruth. We shall now therefore offer a few remarks on the manner in which\nthis may most effectually be carried into effect; or, in other words,\nhow Nature may most successfully be imitated in the application of\nknowledge by means of the moral sense.\n\n1. The first thing to be observed here then is, that the early efforts\nof the parent or teacher are to be employed for disciplining the child\nunder the influence of the executive powers of conscience.--The child is\nto be trained to the perfect government of his inclinations and temper,\nby a watchful attention on the part of the parent to every instance of\ntheir exhibition in his daily conduct, the regulation of the desires,\nthe softening down of the passions, the eradicating of evil\npropensities, the restraining and overcoming the exercise of self-will,\nthe converting of selfishness into benevolence, and the cultivating and\nstrengthening of self-controul within, and of sympathy, and forbearance,\nand kindness to all without. These are the great ends which the parent\nand teacher are to have in view in all their dealings with the child.\nThey are, in short, to take care that their pupil be reduced to a state\nof enlightened submission, and uniform obedience; and for that purpose,\nthey are to employ all the means and the machinery provided by Nature,\nin the use of which she has afforded them abundant examples.\n\nIn the accomplishment of these ends, _the agent_ employed has much in\nher power. It is a delicate, as well as an important work; and here,\nmore than perhaps in any after period of the child's educational\nprogress, an affectionate and enlightened agency is of the greatest\nimportance. In that constant watchfulness and exertion, necessary to\ncheck or to controul the unceasing and often unreasonable desires of a\nfroward child, there is naturally created in the mind of a hireling or a\nstranger, a feeling of irritation and dislike, which nothing but\nenlightened philanthropy, or high moral principle, will ever be able\nthoroughly to overcome;--and these qualifications are scarcely to be\nexpected in those who are usually picked up to assist the mother during\nthis important season. In families, Nature has graciously balanced this\neffect, and amply provided for it, in the deep-seated and unalterable\naffection of the parent. The mother then is the proper agent, selected\nand duly qualified by Nature for superintending this important work\nduring this early period. The out-bursts and irregularities of natural\ndepravity in the young, must be met by an unconquerable affection,\nexhibited in the exercise of gentleness, guided by firmness;--of\nkindness and forbearance, combined with a steady and an untiring\nperseverance. Irregularity or caprice in the nurse, may be the ruin of\nthe morals of the child. The selection of assistance here is often\nrequisite, and yet how few comparatively of those into whose hands\nchildren and infants are placed, possess the high qualifications\nnecessary for this important occupation?[24] The parent who from any\ncause is prevented from taking charge of the superintendence of her\noffspring at this period, incurs a serious responsibility in the choice\nof her assistant; for if these qualifications be awanting, or, if they\nbe not exercised by the nurse or the keeper, the happiness and moral\nwelfare of the child during life are in imminent danger.\n\n2. The child is not only to be trained to think and to act properly, but\nhe must be trained to do so _under the influence of motives_. If this be\nneglected, we are not imitating Nature in her mode of applying knowledge\nby means of the moral sense. We have seen, as formerly noticed, that a\nchild under the influence of conscience, has always a painful feeling of\nself-reproach, or remorse, after it has done wrong; and a delightful\nfeeling of self-approval and joy, when it has done something that is\npraiseworthy. These are employed by Nature as powerful motives to\nprevent the repetition of the one, and to win the child to the frequent\nor regular performance of the other;--and this is their effect. In\nimitating her in this part of her educational process, we must in like\nmanner follow in the spirit of this principle. There must be motives of\naction held out to the child; something that will tend to keep him from\nthe commission of evil, and something that will stimulate and encourage\nhim in doing good. Both are necessary, and therefore, neither of them\nshould be neglected. What these motives ought to be, we shall\nimmediately shew; but at present, we are anxious to establish the fact,\nthat motives to do good, should be invariably employed with our pupils,\nas well as motives to avoid evil. In ordinary life, we generally find\ntoo much of the one, and too little of the other. The fear of punishment\nheld out to prevent mischief or evil, is common enough; but there is\nseldom sufficient attention paid to the providing of proper incitements\nto the practice of virtue. Some, indeed, have gone the length of\naffirming that there ought to be no such incitement held out to the\nyoung; under the erroneous idea, that actions performed for an\nequivalent, or in the hope of a reward, cease to be virtuous. But the\nsame reasoning would apply with almost equal force to the fear of\npunishment in stimulating to duty, or in deterring from wickedness; and\nyet they would scarcely affirm, that the child who, for fear of the\nconsequences, refused to break the Sabbath or to tell a lie, was equally\nguilty with the boy who did both. There are, no doubt, some motives to\nvirtue that are higher and more noble than others, as there are\ndifferences in the degrading nature of punishment employed to deter men\nfrom vice. But both kinds may be necessary for different persons. The\nman who forgives his enemy because he seeks the approbation of his Maker\nand the reward promised by him, and the man who does so, because he\nwishes to live in quiet, and to consult his own ease;--the boy who\nrefrains from sin lest he should offend God, and another who does the\nsame from the fear of the rod,--are each influenced by motives, although\nthey are of a very different kind. But it is plain, that the motives\nemployed may be equally efficient, and that they ought to be used\naccording to their influence upon the individual, and his advancement in\nthe paths of morality and religion. Where the higher motive has not as\nyet acquired influence, the lower motive must be employed; but to refuse\nthe employment of either would be wrong, and the sentiment which would\ntotally exclude them, has no countenance in Nature, in experience, nor\nin Scripture. In Nature, we see the directly opposite principle\nexhibited; and find that the remorse of conscience consequent upon\ncrime, in preventing future transgressions, is not more powerful in\nthose whose moral status is low, than is the feeling of delight and joy\nafter an act of benevolence, which excites to new deeds of charity, in\nthose whose religious attainments are greater. Scripture, and the\nhistory of all those whom Scripture holds out for imitation, unite in\nteaching the same sentiment. There are many more promises in the sacred\nrecord given to virtue, than there are threatenings against vice; and\nthe highest altitudes of holiness are not only represented as having\nbeen attained by the influence of these promises; but the persons who\nhave already reached them, are still urged to greater exertions, and a\nfarther advance, by the reiteration of their number and their value.\nMoses, we are told, \"had an eye to the recompense of reward;\" and our\nLord himself, \"for the joy that was set before him,\" endured the cross.\nLet us not then attempt a better method than God has sanctioned; and in\nour intercourse with the young, let us not only deter them from the\ncommission of evil by the fear of disfavour or the rod, but let us also\nincite them to virtue, by the hope of approbation and of a future\nreward.\n\n3. In our enquiry into the practical working of the moral sense, we\nfound, not only that there were motives of action employed for\nencouraging the pupil to virtue, and for deterring him from vice; but we\nfound also, that these motives referred chiefly to God, to a future\njudgment, and to eternity. In our attempts to imitate Nature in this\nparticular feature of her dealing with the moral sense, we begin more\ndistinctly to perceive the high value of Religious Instruction to the\nyoung, and are led directly to the conclusion, that the motives to be\nemployed with children for encouraging and rewarding good conduct, must\nbe those chiefly of a spiritual kind, referring to God, and to his\nfavour or disapprobation, rather than to the rod, or to any secular\nreward. The importance of imitating Nature in this matter, for giving a\nhigh tone both to the sentiments and to the morals of the young, is very\ngreat. It is now generally admitted, that secular, and especially\ncorporal punishments, are never required, except in connection with a\nvery low and degraded state of the moral sentiments; but it is equally\ncorrect with respect to secular rewards for moral actions. They may both\nof them at times be necessary, but in that case they are necessary\nevils; and, as a class of motives, they should never be the rule, but\ninvariably the exception.--We must not, however, be misunderstood. We\nare no more for abandoning _secular rewards_, than we are for giving up\ncorporal punishments. We speak not here of their _abandonment_, but of\ntheir _enlightened regulation_;--both of them may be of service. But\nwhat we wish to point out as an important feature in moral training is,\nthat they are, or should be, but seldom necessary; and that they ought\nnever to be resorted to except when they really are so. The differences\nobservable in the results arising from _secular_, and those from _moral_\nmotives, are very different, both as regards their power in restraining\nfrom vice, and their influence in stimulating to virtue. What, for\nexample, would we think of the moral condition of a child, or of the\nvirtue of his actions, if he had to be hired by a comfit, or a piece of\nmoney, to do every act of kindness which he performed; or if he refused\nto relieve a sister, or prevent an injury to his companion, unless\nsimilarly rewarded? This secular spirit in morals, when thus exposed in\nits deformity, is obnoxious to every sentiment of virtue, and shews\nitself to be a mere system of buying and selling. But how very different\ndoes the reward appear, and the feeling which it excites, when that\nreward assumes the moral character, and is found to be the desire of\npleasing the parent, and much more when it seeks the approbation of the\nAlmighty? Every one will see how beneficial and elevating the effects of\ncherishing the one must be, and how debasing comparatively is the\ninfluence of the other. That children are capable of being acted upon by\nthese higher motives, we have already seen; and, when we aim at securing\nthe effects which they are calculated to produce, we are closely\nimitating Nature in one of her most important operations, and may\ntherefore calculate upon a corresponding degree of success.[25]\n\n4. In the operations of Nature by means of the moral sense, we found,\nthat the impressions made upon the mind in reference to sin or duty,\nwere always most efficient, and most permanent, when the sin or duty was\npresented to them in the form of example;--that the example increased in\nefficiency and interest as it was familiar or near;--and that it became\nstill more powerful when it was actually seen or experienced.--From\nthese circumstances we are led to conclude, that the lives and conduct\nof men, and especially the narrative parts of Scripture, are the proper\nmaterials to be employed in the moral training of the young; and the\nmode of making use of them is also very plainly indicated. The closer we\ncan bring the lesson taught to the child's own experience, or to his own\ncircumstances, the more familiar will it become, and the deeper will be\nthe impression it will make. An instance of infant disinterestedness or\nheroism, in the parlour or the play-ground, pointed out, and placed in\nconnection with corresponding circumstances in the lives or conduct of\nthose from whom they have previously drawn moral lessons, will render\nthe latter much more familiar and practical, and will create more\nenergetic desires, and stronger feelings of emulation with respect to\nthe former. Or if the conduct of the person of whom the child hears or\nreads, can be brought home and applied to his own case and\ncircumstances; or if he can be made to perceive the very same\ndispositions or conduct exhibited in his companions; or if he can be\nmade to see how he himself can embody in his own conduct those\nprinciples and actions which God has approved, and requires to be\nimitated,--the end of the teacher will be much more certainly gained,\nthan it can be in any other way. This is moral training, conducted by\nthe proper moral means; and to attempt to gain the same end by means\nwhich do not either more or less embody these principles, will be found\nto be much more difficult, and much less efficient. Whoever will\nconsider what is implied by our Lord's address to the Pharisees who\nerroneously blamed his disciples for unlawfully, as they thought,\nplucking the ears of corn on the Sabbath, will see this method of\nreading and applying Scripture distinctly pointed out. \"Have ye never\nread,\" said our Lord, \"what David did, and those who were with him?\"\nThis they might have done frequently; but the mere reading could never\nanswer the purpose for which it was recorded. The moral lesson must be\ndrawn, and it must also be applied to similar cases of mere ceremonial\nobservance.\n\nTo apply this principle, then, to the moral training of the young by\nmeans of Scripture History, the method is obvious.--The events of the\nnarrative are to be used as examples or warnings to the child in\ncorresponding circumstances. If, for example, the teacher wishes to\nenforce the duty and the benefits of patience, the history of Job has\nbeen provided for the purpose. When that story is taught, and the\nlessons drawn and applied to the ordinary contingencies of life, such as\naccident, disease, or distress in a companion; or to circumstances in\nwhich the child himself may hereafter be placed; he will be better\nprepared for his duty in such events, or, in the words of Scripture, he\nwill be \"thoroughly furnished\" to this good work. If they are to be\ntaught meekness, the history of Moses, or of other pious men who have\nbeen tried and disciplined as he was, will be found best adapted for the\npurpose. And more especially, the life of our Lord, in which all the\nvirtues concentrate, has been given \"as our example, that we may follow\nhis steps,\" and which ought especially to be employed in training the\nyoung \"to love and to good works.\" The reason why example is preferable\nto precept in teaching children, will be obvious, when we consider the\nnature of the principle of grouping, as exercised by the young, and the\ndifficulty they experience in remembering abstract or didactic subjects.\nWhen a child receives instruction by a story, the imagination is\nenlisted in the exercise, the grouping of the persons and circumstances\nassists the memory, and the moral and practical lessons which they have\ndrawn from the narrative, are associated with it, and remain ready at\nthe command of the will whenever they are required.--It was for this\nreason among others, that our Lord taught so frequently by parables;\nand, in doing so, has not only set the parent and teacher an important\nexample, but has, in his teaching, illustrated a principle in our nature\nwhich he himself had long before implanted for this very purpose.\n\n5. In our investigations into the working of the moral sense, we found,\nthat there was a marked difference between the decisions of conscience\nwhen judging of actions done by _ourselves_, and those which were\nperformed by _others_. As long as the child is innocent of any\nparticular vice, he can judge impartially of its nature and demerit; but\nwhen the temptation to commit it has really begun to darken his mind,\nand more particularly when he has at last fallen before it, all the\nselfish principles of his nature are employed to deceive his better\njudgment, and to drown or overbear the voice of conscience within him.\nFrom this we learn the importance of preparing the mind _beforehand_,\nfor encountering those temptations to which the pupil will most likely\nbe exposed; not only by teaching him to draw the proper lessons from\ncorresponding subjects, but by making him apply these lessons to his own\ncase and affairs. The teacher is to suppose circumstances, in which he,\nhis parents, and companions, are most likely to be placed, and in which\nthe lessons drawn from the narrative will be required to weaken or to\nprevent the influences of temptation. As, for example, it might be\nasked, \"If you had accidentally broken a pane of glass, and your parents\nasked you who did it, what should you do?\" There would in this case,\nwhile it was only supposed, be no temptation to stifle conscience, or to\nbend to the influences of selfishness or fear, and the child would\naccordingly answer readily, that he ought to confess his fault, and tell\nthat he himself had done it. When again asked, \"From what do you get\nthat lesson?\" he will most probably reply, \"From Jacob telling a lie to\nhis parent;--from Ananias and Sapphira telling a lie;--from the command,\n'Lie not one to another,' and 'Confess your faults one to another,'\" &c.\nBy this means the child is forewarned;--he is prepared and fortified\nagainst the sin, if the temptation should occur; but which would not\nhave been the case without this or some similar exercise.\n\n6. We have also seen, in our investigations into the working of the\nmoral sense, the deplorable effects of stifling conscience, and of the\nchild's being permitted to repeat his transgressions; while, upon the\nsame principle, the most beneficial consequences result from the child's\nfrequently practising self-denial, self-controul, and acts of\nbenevolence. In the one case, sin and vice lose much of their deformity,\nand gain greatly in strength; while, in the other, every act of virtue\nmakes vice appear more hideous, and excites to a more decided advance in\nthe paths of rectitude. From these circumstances we are led to\nconclude, that every act of sin in the pupil ought to be carefully\nguarded against by the parent or teacher, and, if possible, prevented;\nwhile every exertion ought to be made to induce to the performance of\ngood and kind actions, however humble or unimportant these actions in\nthemselves may be. If God does \"not despise the day of small things,\"\nneither should we; and one act of kindness by a child, however trifling,\nwill most assuredly prepare the way for another. This circumstance also\nshews the impropriety of attempting to magnify faults, when perhaps no\nfault was designed; and the evil consequences, as well as the injustice,\nof refraining to commend a child, when commendation is due. The timorous\nfear, in many conscientious parents, of making children _vain_, is the\ncommon excuse for this unnatural conduct. Such persons seem to confound\nthings _vain_ with things _valuable_, though they are perfectly opposed\nto each other. Approbation for any definite quality, excites the\nindividual to excel in _that_ quality, whether it be worthless or\notherwise. But virtuous deeds are not worthless; and by commending, as\nour Lord repeatedly did, those who have done well, they, by that\nprinciple of our nature of which we are here speaking, are strongly\nexcited to do better. To feed vanity, is to commend vanities; and they\nwho prize and commend beauty, or fashion, or dress, or frivolous\naccomplishments, may be guilty of this folly; but not the parent or the\nperson who commends in a child those things which are really\ncommendable, and after which it is his greatest glory to aspire.\n\n7. We have already taken notice of Nature's mode of employing motives\nfor the prevention of evil, and for the encouragement of the child in\nvirtue, and how this is to be imitated in the education of the young;\nbut we have left for this last section, and for separate consideration,\nthe greatest and most powerful motive of all. This is a view of the\ninherent sinfulness and danger of sin, and the means appointed by God\nfor man's redemption from it. All other motives to restrain men from\nsin, and to induce them to follow holiness, when compared with an\nenlightened view of this one, sink into insignificance. God's hatred of\nsin, and his holy abhorrence of it in every form, when contemplated in\nthe abstract, may have a response from the head of him who compares it\nwith his own detestation of meanness, and fraud, and profligacy; but\nwhen this hatred of vice in the Almighty is viewed in connection with\ngospel truth, and is contemplated in its effects upon One to whom it was\nonly imputed, it begins to wear a very different complexion; and, as a\nmotive to beware of that which God is determined to punish, and which he\nwould not pass over even in his own Son, it leaves all other motives at\nan immeasurable distance. The same thing may be said of God's goodness\nand mercy in the gospel, as a motive for us to love him, and to glory in\ndenying ourselves to serve him. The extent of the danger from which he\nhas saved us, the amount and the permanence of the glory which he has\nprocured for us, and the price that was paid for both, will powerfully\n\"constrain\" spiritual minds, to \"live no longer to themselves, but to\nhim who hath died for them.\"\n\nBut the question which will be asked here is, \"Are children capable of\nall this?\"--We unhesitatingly answer, from long experience, that they\nare. Whoever doubts the fact has only to try. Can a child not understand\nthat a distinction ought to be made between the person in a family who\nendeavours to make all happy, and another whose constant aim is to make\nthem all miserable?--Can he not understand, that the parent who refuses\nto punish a wicked child, is in effect bribing others to join him in his\nwickedness?--Can he not understand that a debt due by one, may be paid\nby another?--and that a simple reliance on the word of his benefactor,\nfollowed by submission to his will, may be all that is required to\nsecure his discharge?--No one will say that a child is incapable of\nunderstanding these simple truths; and if he can comprehend _them_, he\ncan be made to understand and appreciate the leading truths of the\ngospel. The teacher has only himself clearly to perceive them; and then,\ndivesting the truths of those unnecessary technicalities which are\nsometimes, it is feared, used very improperly and unnecessarily, he\nought to convey them to the child, either orally, or by some simple\ncatechism suited for the purpose. Wherever this is done in effect, there\neducation will prosper; and when it shall become general among the\nyoung, it will be found to be \"as life from the dead.\"\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[23] See pages 111 to 129\n\n[24] Note X.\n\n[25] Note Y.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. X.\n\n_On the Application of our Knowledge to the Common Affairs of Life._\n\n\nThere is another point connected with the practical use of our\nknowledge, which deserves a separate and careful consideration. It is\nthe method of applying our knowledge, or rather the lessons derived from\nour knowledge, to the common and daily affairs of life. In this exercise\nboth old and young are equally concerned;--but it is evident that youth\nis the proper time for training to its practice.\n\nTo acquire this valuable art, the pupils in every seminary ought to be\nregularly and frequently exercised in the application of their\nlessons;--first, when they have been drawn from a particular subject,\nwhich has occupied their attention for the day; and afterwards\ngenerally, from any part of their previous knowledge. To illustrate what\nwe mean by this application of our knowledge, let us suppose a person\nplaced in difficult circumstances, and that he is desirous of knowing\nthe path of duty, and the particular line of conduct which he should\npursue. If he is to trust to himself for the information required, it is\nevident that he must either fall back upon his previous knowledge, and\nthe instructions he has already received; or he must go forward upon a\nmere conjecture, or on chance, which is always dangerous. All knowledge\nis given expressly for such cases, and especially Scripture knowledge;\nthe great design of which is, \"that the man of God may be thoroughly\nfurnished to good works.\" But if the person has not been trained to make\nuse of his knowledge in this way and for this purpose, he will be nearly\nas much at a loss as if his knowledge had never been received. Hence the\ngreat importance of training the young early and constantly to draw upon\ntheir knowledge for direction and guidance in every variety of situation\nin which the parent or teacher can suppose them to be placed in future\nlife. By this means they will be prepared for encountering temptation,\nwhich is often more than the half of the battle;--they will form the\nhabit of acting by rule, instead of being carried forward by fashion, by\nprejudice, or by chance;--and they will soon acquire a manly confidence,\nin deciding and acting, both as to the matter and the manner, of\nperforming all that they are called upon to do, in every juncture, and\nwhether the duty be important in the ordinary sense of that term or\notherwise.\n\nFor this special mode of applying knowledge, we have not only the\nindications plainly given in Nature, which we have endeavoured to\nillustrate, but we have also Scripture precept, and Scripture example.\nLeaving the numerous instances in the Old Testament, we shall confine\nourselves to a few given by our Lord himself, and his apostles. For\nexample, he prepared his disciples for the temptations which the love of\nworldly goods would throw in the way of their escape from the\ndestruction of Jerusalem, by enjoining them to \"Remember Lot's wife.\"\nNow let us observe how a teacher, in communicating the history of Lot's\nwife for the first time, would have prepared these disciples for such a\ndifficulty in the same way. When they had read, that while fleeing for\nher life, the love of her worldly goods made her sinfully look back, so\nthat she was turned into a pillar of salt; the obvious lesson drawn from\nthis would be, that \"we ought to be on our guard against worldly\nmindedness;\"--and the _application_ of that lesson to the coming\ncircumstances would have been something like this. \"When you are\ncommanded to flee from Jerusalem for your lives, and remember that your\nworldly goods are left behind, what should you do?\"--\"We should not turn\nback for them.\" \"From what do you get that lesson?\"--\"From the conduct\nand fate of Lot's wife.\"\n\nIn a similar way, the apostle James prepared Christians for humble\nresignation and patient endurance under coming trials, by calling to\ntheir remembrance \"the patience of Job.\" He stated the trials to which\nthey were to be exposed, and then he directed their attention to the\nScripture example which was to regulate them in their endurance of them.\nNow it is obvious that a teacher, in communicating the history of Job to\nthe young, should follow this example, and should make the same use of\nit that the apostle did, not only by drawing the lesson, that he \"ought\nto be patient,\" but in _applying_ that lesson to temptations to which\nthe child is likely to be exposed, as James did to the circumstances in\nwhich he knew Christians were to be placed. As for example, when the\nchild had drawn the lesson, that \"we should be patient under suffering,\"\nthe teacher might apply it in a great variety of ways, each of which\nwould be a delightful exercise of mind to the child,--would impress the\nlesson and its source more firmly upon the memory,--and would prepare\nhim for the circumstances in which the lesson might be required. Were\nthe teacher accordingly to ask, \"If you were confined by long continued\nsickness;--or if you were suffering under great pain;--or if you were\noppressed by the cruelty of others, and could not help yourself;--or, if\nyou were grieved by being separated from your friends,--what would be\nyour duty?\" The answer to each would be, \"We ought to be\npatient.\"--\"From what do you get that lesson?\"--\"From the conduct of\nJob, who was patient under his sufferings.\"\n\nThe apostle Paul follows a similar plan, in applying the practical\nlessons drawn from the conduct of the Israelites in the wilderness, for\nfortifying the Corinthians against temptations to which they were likely\nto be exposed,[26] and tells them that this is the use to be made of Old\nTestament history. These lives are \"ensamples,\" and are \"written for our\nadmonition upon whom the ends of the world are come.\"--In like manner he\nforewarned the Hebrews against discontent and covetousness,[27] by\ndrawing a _general_ lesson from a _special_ promise made to Joshua; and\nthen exhorts every Christian to apply it to himself personally, by\nemploying the language which he puts into their mouths, \"The Lord is my\nhelper, and I will not fear what man can do unto me.\"\n\nIn the same way, when our Lord repeatedly says, \"Have ye not read?\" and,\n\"Thus it is written,\" he gives us obvious indications of the importance\nof the duty of thus preparing for temptation, by the application of our\nlessons from Scripture. They are each and all of them examples of\npractical lessons derived from knowledge formerly acquired, and now\nemployed in the way of application, to connect that knowledge with\ncorresponding circumstances as they occur in ordinary life. The lesson,\nit will be observed, and as we formerly explained, is always made the\nconnecting link which unites the two; and without which there is no such\nthing as the bringing of knowledge and its use together, when that\nknowledge is required. In other words, without the lesson, knowledge is\n_useless_; and, without the application of the lesson, knowledge is\n_never used_. Both therefore are necessary, and both should be rendered\nfamiliar to the young. It is only necessary here to observe, that in\nteaching the children to _draw_ the lessons, the teacher proceeds\nforwards from the knowledge communicated, and, by deducing the lesson,\nprepares the child for the events in life when they shall be\nnecessary;--but in _applying_ the lessons, he proceeds backwards, from\nthe events, through the lesson to the knowledge from which it is\nderived. We have a beautiful example of this in the recorded temptations\nof our Lord. He was tempted to turn stones into bread; here was the\nevent which required a knowledge of the corresponding duty; and he\nimmediately applied the lesson that \"we should not distrust God,\" and\nthrough this lesson, though not expressed, he went directly back to the\nsource from which it was drawn, by saying, \"Thus it is written, Man\nshall not live by bread alone, but by every word of God.\" When in like\nmanner he was tempted to throw himself from the temple, he immediately,\nthrough the lesson \"that we should not unnecessarily presume on the\ngoodness of God,\" went to the passage of Scripture from which it was\ndrawn;--and, in the same way, when tempted to worship Satan, there was\nprecisely the same process;--a lesson, derived from previous knowledge\nand applicable to the circumstances, used as a uniting link to make the\nduty and the Scripture exactly to correspond.\n\nOf doing all this which we have described above; even children are\ncapable. This has been again and again proved by repeated experiments,\nand now by extensive experience in many schools. The difficulties of\nintroducing it, even for the first time in any seminary, do not lie with\nthe children, who in every case have shewn themselves quite adequate to\nthe exercise; and wherever it has been followed up with corresponding\nenergy, they have been raised much higher in the grade of intelligence\nand mental capacity by its means. This will be evident from the\nfollowing, taken from among many examples.\n\nThe criminals in Edinburgh Jail during the short time they were under\ninstruction, acquired considerable facility in this valuable art. The\nreport states, that \"some of them were afterwards exercised on the\napplication of the lessons. This part consists in supposing certain\ncircumstances and temptations, to which they may be exposed in ordinary\nlife, and then leaving them, by a very profitable, and usually a very\npleasant operation of their own minds, in reference to these, to call up\nto their recollection, and to hold in review, the whole accumulated\nrange of their previous knowledge. Among the various classes of things\nthus brought in order before the eye of the mind, they are easily taught\nto discriminate all those precepts and examples which are analogous to\nthe cases supposed, from which again they very readily select\nappropriate lessons to _guide them in these emergencies_; thus linking\nthe lessons to the circumstances, which is done in the previous exercise\nof deducing them; and then the circumstances to the lessons; and in this\nmanner, establishing a double tie between the understanding and the\nconscience.\n\n\"For example, a woman from the Lock-up House, being asked how she ought\nto conduct herself when the term of her confinement was expired?\nanswered, That she ought not to return to her sinful courses, or wicked\ncompanions, lest a worse fate should befal her. When again interrogated\nwhere she got this lesson, she immediately referred to the case of Lot,\nwho, being once rescued from captivity by Abraham, returned again to\nwicked Sodom, where he soon lost all his property, and escaped only with\nhis life. Another being asked what she should do, when involved in a\nquarrel with troublesome companions? replied, That she should endeavour\nto be at peace, even though she should lose a little by it; and\nproduced as her authority the conduct of Abraham, who when Lot's\nherdsmen and his could not agree, gave Lot his choice of the country, in\norder to secure peace.\"\n\nThe children in Aberdeen also found no difficulty in perceiving the use,\nand in applying the lessons to their common affairs. The report of that\nExperiment states, that \"the most important part of the exercise,--that\nwhich shewed more particularly the great value of this System, and with\nwhich the Meeting were especially struck,--was the appropriate\napplication of the lessons from Scripture, which they had previously\ndrawn. They were desired to suppose themselves placed in a great variety\nof situations, and were asked how they ought to conduct themselves in\neach of these. A few examples may be given, though it is quite\nimpossible to do justice to the subject. A boy, for instance, was asked,\n'If your parents should become infirm and poor, how ought you to act\ntowards them?' 'I ought,' replied the boy, 'to work, and help them.' And\nbeing asked, 'Whence he drew that lesson?' he referred to the conduct of\nRuth, who supported Naomi and herself, by gleaning in the fields.--A\ngirl was asked, 'If your mother were busy, and had more to do in the\nfamily than she could easily accomplish, what ought you to do?' Her\nanswer was, 'I ought to give her assistance;' and she referred to the\nconduct of Saul, in assisting his father to recover the asses which were\nlost; and to that of David, in feeding his father's sheep when his\nbrothers were at the wars.--A little boy was asked, 'If your parents\nwere too indulgent, and seemed to give you all your own will, what ought\nyou to do?' 'I ought not to take it,' replied the boy very readily; and\nadded, that it was taking his own will that caused the ruin of the\nprodigal son. Another boy being asked, 'If you should become rich, what\nwould be your duty to the poor?' answered, 'I ought to be good to the\npoor; but it would be better to give them work than to give them money;\nfor Boaz did not give Ruth grain, but bade his shearers let some fall,\nthat she might get it by her own industry.'\"\n\nIn the Experiment in London, a child was asked, \"When you live with\nbrothers and sisters who are wicked, what should you do?\" and answered,\n\"I should not join with them in their sins.\" And when asked where she\ngot that lesson, answered, \"From Joseph, who would not join with his\nbrothers in their sin.\"--Another was asked, \"When you see others going\nheedlessly on in the commission of sin, what should you do?\" and\nanswered, \"I should warn them of their danger;\" and referred to Noah,\nwho warned the wicked while building the ark.--Again, \"When people about\nyou are given to quarrel, what should you do?\" We should endeavour to\nmake peace; and referred to Abram endeavouring to remain at peace with\nLot's herdsmen.--\"When you have grown up to be men and women, what\nshould you do?\" \"We should go to a trade, and be industrious;\" and\nreferred to Cain and Abel following their different employments.--\"When\ntwo situations occur, one where you will get more money, but where the\npeople are wicked and ungodly; and the other, where you will get less\nmoney, but have better company, which should you choose?\" \"The good\ncompany, though with less money;\" and referred to Lot's desire for\nriches taking him to live in wicked Sodom, where he lost all that he\nhad.--\"When your parents get old, and are unable to support themselves,\nwhat should you do?\" \"We should work for them;\" and referred to Ruth\ngleaning for the support of her old mother-in-law; and another referred\nto Joseph bringing his father to nourish him in Goshen.--\"When your\nparents or masters give you any important work or duty to perform, what\nshould you do?\" \"We should pray to God for success, and for his\ndirection and help in performing it;\" and referred to Abraham's servant\npraying at the well.--\"When we find people wishing to take advantage of\nus and cheat us, what should we do?\" \"Leave them;\" and referred to Jacob\nwith his family leaving Laban.--\"Were any one to tempt you to lie or\ncommit a sin, what should you do?\" \"We ought not to be tempted;\" and\nreferred to Abraham making Sarah tell a lie in Egypt.--\"How should you\nbehave to strangers?\" \"We should be kind to them;\" and referred to Lot\nlodging the angels.--\"Were a master or mistress to have the choice of\ntwo servants, one clever, but ungodly, and the other not so clever, but\npious, which one should be chosen?\" \"The pious servant;\" and referred to\nPotiphar, whom God blessed and prospered for Joseph's sake.--\"When any\none has injured us, what should we do?\" \"Forgive them;\" and referred to\nJoseph forgiving and nourishing his brethren.--\"When you have once\nescaped the snares and designs of bad company, what should you do?\" \"We\nshould never go back again;\" and referred to Lot going back again to\nlive in Sodom from which he at last escaped only with his life.\n\nIn the account given of the Newry Experiment, the boys were equally\nready in applying for their own benefit the lessons they had drawn from\ntheir knowledge of anatomy and physiology. The account says, that \"the\nmost interesting, as well as the most edifying part of the examination,\nand which exhibited the great value of this method of teaching the\nsciences to the young, was the _application_ of these lessons to the\ncircumstances of ordinary life. Circumstances were supposed, in which\nthey or others might be placed, and they were required to apply the\nlessons they had drawn for their direction, and for regulating their\nconduct in every such case. This they did with great sagacity, and\nevident delight, and in a manner which convinced the audience that the\nfew hours during which they had been employed in making these\nacquisitions, instead of being irksome and laborious, as education is\ntoo often considered by the young, were obviously among the happiest and\nthe shortest they had ever spent in almost any employment,--their play\nnot excepted. We shall give a specimen of these, and the answers given,\nas nearly as can be recollected.\n\n\"The case of walking in a frosty day was supposed, and they were asked\nwhat, in that case, ought to be done? The answer was, That we should\ntake care not to fall. Why? Because the bones are easily broken in\nfrosty weather.--When heated and feverish in a close room, what should\nbe done? Let in fresh air; because it is the want of oxygen in the air\nwe breathe that causes such a feeling, but which the admission of fresh\nair supplies.--When troubled with listlessness, and impeded circulation,\nwhat should we do? Take exercise; because the contraction of the muscles\nby walking, working, or otherwise, forces the blood to the heart, and\nthrough the lungs, by which health and vigour is promoted.--Where should\nwe take exercise? In the country, or in the open air; because there the\nair is purer than in a house or a town, where fires, smoke, frequent\nbreathing, and other things, render the atmosphere unwholesome.--Would\nbreathing rapidly, without exercise, not nourish the blood equally well?\nNo; because although more air be drawn into the lungs, there would be no\nmore blood to combine with its oxygen.--What should be done, when\ncandles in a crowded church burn dim, although they do not need\nsnuffing? Let in fresh air; because the air is then unwholesome for want\nof oxygen; which, carried to a great extent, would cause fainting in the\npeople, and would extinguish the candles themselves.--When a fire is\nlike to go out, what should be done? Blow it up with bellows. Why not by\nthe mouth? Because the air blown from the lungs has lost great part of\nits oxygen, by which alone the fire burns. Why then does a fire blown\nwith the mouth burn at all? Because part of the oxygen remains, said one\nboy; and another added, \"and because part of the surrounding air is\nblown in along with it.\"\n\nAt the second meeting with these boys, occasioned by the unexpected\ncircumstances formerly alluded to, they were summarily, and without\nprevious notice, taken from their school to another public meeting,\nwithout knowing for what purpose they were brought, and had to undergo a\nstill more searching examination on what they had been previously\ntaught. Here again they shewed their dexterity in making use of their\nlessons, by the application of them, and proved that they had been doing\nso to themselves in the intercourse which they had had with their\nrelations at home. The account goes on to say, that \"they were then more\nfully and searchingly examined than at first; and there being more time,\nthey were much longer under the exercise. It was then found, that the\ninformation formerly communicated was not only remembered, but that the\nseveral truths were much more familiar, in themselves and in their\nconnection with each other, than they had been at the former meeting.\nThis had evidently arisen from their own frequent meditations upon them\nsince that time, and their application of the several lessons, either\nwith one another, their parents, or themselves. The medical gentlemen\nwere again present, and professed themselves equally pleased. The\nlessons, _with considerable additions_, were also given, and the\napplications especially were greatly extended. In these last they\nappeared to be perfectly at home; and relevant circumstances might have\nbeen multiplied for double the time, without their having any difficulty\nin applying the lessons, and giving a reason for their application.\"\n\nBut the most satisfactory of all the experiments on this point, as\nimplying the possession of a well-cultivated mind, holding at command an\nextensive field of useful knowledge, was the one in Leith, although\nfrom accident, or inadvertence on the part of the reporter, a large\nportion of it has been lost to the public. The following fragment,\nhowever, will be sufficient to shew its nature and its value. The\nexaminator wished \"to ascertain the power which the children possessed\nof applying the passage to their own conduct; and for this purpose, he\nproposed several circumstances in which they might be placed, and asked\nthem to show how this portion of Scripture directed them to\nact.--Supposing, said he, that your father and mother were to neglect to\ntake you to church next Sunday, would that be wrong?--Yes.--From what do\nyou get that lesson? And when he was twelve years old, they went up to\nJerusalem after the custom of the feast.--Is it right that children\nshould go to church with their parents? Yes.--Why? Because Jesus went\nwith his parents.--Would it be right for you to go out of church during\nthe time of the service? No.--Why? Joseph and Mary remained till the\nservice was over.\n\n\"The next point to be ascertained was, whether the children were able,\nnot only to perceive what passages of Scripture were applicable in\nparticular circumstances, but also to find out what circumstances in\nlife those passages might be applied to. For this purpose, Mr Gall\nasked, 'Could you tell me any circumstances which may happen, in which\nyou may be called on to remember that Joseph and Mary attended public\nworship?'--If a friend were to take dinner or tea with us, that should\nnot detain us from attending church.--Idle amusements should not detain\nus from church; and nothing should keep us from it but sickness.\n\n\"Mr Gall again expressed his unabated satisfaction at the results of the\nexamination, in proving the intellectual acquirements of the children.\nBut so important did the application of the lessons appear to him, that\nhe must trespass still further upon the time of the meeting by a more\nsevere test of the children's practical training on this particular\npoint. It was a test which he believed to be altogether new to them; but\nif they should succeed, it will prove still more satisfactorily, that\ntheir knowledge of Scripture has made it become, in reality, a light to\ntheir feet, and a lamp to their path.\n\n\"Mr Gall then produced a little narrative tract, which he read aloud to\nthe children; and after the statement of each moral circumstance\ndetailed in it, he asked the children whether it was right or wrong.\nWhen the children answered that it was _right_, he required them to\nprove that it was so, by some statement in the word of God, because the\nBible should to them, and to every Christian, be the _only_ standard of\nwhat is right and wrong; and so, in the same manner, when they said that\nit was _wrong_, he required them also to prove it from Scripture.\n\n\"As soon as the children perceived what was wanted, passages of\nScripture, both of precept and example, were brought forward with as\nmuch readiness and discrimination as before. The only exception, was one\nor two quotations from the Shorter Catechism in proof of their\npositions, which were of course rejected, as deficient of the required\nauthority.\"\n\nThe concluding remarks by the Right Honourable and Reverend reporters of\nthe Experiment in Edinburgh, may with propriety be here given, as it is\napplicable, not only to prison discipline, but to education in general.\n\"The result of this important experiment,\" they say, \"was, in every\npoint, satisfactory. Not only had much religious knowledge been acquired\nby the pupils, and that of the most substantial, and certainly the least\nevanescent kind; but it appeared to have been acquired with ease, and\neven with satisfaction--a circumstance of material importance in every\ncase, but especially in that of adult prisoners. But the most uncommon\nand important feature of it was, the readiness which they, in this\nshort period, had acquired of deducing _Practical Lessons_ from what\nthey had read or heard, for the regulation of their conduct. Every\nleading circumstance in Scripture, by this peculiar feature of the\nSystem, was made to reflect its light on the various common occurrences\nof ordinary life, by which the pupils themselves were enabled to judge\nof the real nature of each particular act, and to adopt, or to shun it,\nas the conscience thus enlightened should dictate. The acting and\nre-acting, indeed, of every branch of the System, upon each other,\ninterweaves so thoroughly the lessons of Scripture with the feelings and\nthoughts of their minds, and associates them so closely with the common\ncircumstances of life, that it is almost impossible that either the\nportions of the Bible which they have thus learned, or the practical\nlessons thus drawn from them, should, at any future period, escape from\ntheir remembrance. The evolutions of their future life, will disclose\ncircumstances which they are prepared to meet, by having lessons laid up\nin store, adapted to such occurrences; and especially, when the mental\nhabit is formed of applying Scripture in this manner, there is scarcely\nan event which can happen, but against its tempting influence they will\nbe fortified by the armour of divine truth.--Their compliance with\ntemptation, should that take place, will not be done without a\ncompunction of conscience, arising from some pointed and warning example\nthat comes in all its urgency before their minds;--and they will, when\nseduced from rectitude, have a light within them, and a clue of divine\ntruth, to guide them out of the dark and mazy labyrinth of error and\ncrime, into the path of duty and virtue. It is God alone that can bless\nsuch instruction, and render it savingly efficacious; but surely the\ninference is fair, that this System furnishes us with an instrument,\nwhich, if skilfully employed, will effect all that man can do for his\nerring brother or sister.\"\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[26] 1 Cor. x. 1-11.\n\n[27] Heb. xiii. 5, 6\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XI.\n\n_On the Imitation of Nature, in training her Pupils fluently to\ncommunicate their Knowledge._\n\n\nThere is a fourth, or supplementary process in Nature's educational\ncourse, the successful imitation of which promises to be of great\ngeneral benefit, as soon as it shall be universally adopted in our\nelementary schools. It is, as it were, the door-way of intellect,--the\nbreak in the cloud, through which the sun-light of concocted knowledge\nis to find its way, to enlighten and cheer the general community.--We\nrefer to that acquirement, by which persons are enabled, without\ndistraction of mind, internally to prepare and arrange their ideas, at\nthe moment they are verbally communicating them to others.\n\nWhen this process is analysed, we find, as explained in a former\nchapter, that it consists simply in an ability to think, and to arrange\nour thoughts at the time we are speaking;--to exercise the mind on one\nset of ideas, at the moment we are giving expression to another. Simple\nas this at first sight may appear, we have seen that it is but very\ngradually arrived at;--that many persons, otherwise possessing great\nabilities, never can command it;--that it is altogether an acquisition\ndepending upon the use of proper means;--but that, at the same time, any\nperson whatever, by submitting to the appropriate discipline, may attain\nalmost any degree of perfection in its exercise. The object required by\nthe teacher, therefore, is a series of exercises, by means of which his\npupils will be trained to think and to speak at the same moment; to have\ntheir minds busily occupied with some object or idea, while their powers\nof speech are engaged in giving utterance to something else. For the\npurpose of suggesting such an exercise, we shall again attend shortly to\nthe exhibition of the process, as we find it under the superintendence\nof Nature.\n\nAn infant, as we formerly explained, can for a long period utter only\none or two words at a time,--not because it is unacquainted with more,\nbut because it has not yet acquired the power of thinking the second\nword, while it is giving utterance to the first. It has to attain, by\nsteady practice, and by slow degrees, the ability of commanding the\nthoughts, while uttering two, three, or more words consecutively,\nwithout a pause. A child also, whose mind is engaged with its toys,\ncannot for some time, during its early mental advances, attend to a\nspeaker; much less can it think of, and arrange an answer to a question,\nwhile it continues its play. It has to stop, and think; it then gives\nthe information required; and after this it will perhaps resume its\nplay, but not sooner. When a child can speak and continue its\namusements, it is an evidence of considerable mental power; and as\nNature makes use of its play, for the purpose of increasing this\nability, the teacher, and especially the parents, ought to excite and\nencourage every attempt at conversation while the pupil is so employed.\nBut our object at present is to arrive at one or more regular exercises\nthat shall embody the principle; exercises which may at all times be at\nthe command, and under the controul of the teacher and parent, and which\nmay form part of the daily useful arrangements of the school or the\nfamily. The following are a few, among many, which we shall briefly\nnotice, before introducing one which promises to be still more\nbeneficial, and more generally applicable to the economy of literary\npursuits, and the arrangements of the academy.\n\nOne of the exercises which assists in attaining the end here in view, we\nhave already alluded to, as being successfully employed by Nature for\nthe purpose,--that is, the child's play. Any amusement which requires\nthought or attention, is well calculated to answer this purpose,--and\nif the child can be induced and trained to speak and play at the same\ntime, his thinking powers being occupied by the external use of his\ntoys, the end of the teacher will in so far be gained. Questions put to\na child at that time, and answers given by him while he continues to\nexercise his mind upon his amusements, will prepare the way, and greatly\nassist in giving him the power of exercising it upon ideas, without the\nhelp of these external and tangible objects. The principle in both cases\nis the same, although in the one it is not carried out to the same\nextent as it is in the other. And here we cannot help remarking, how\nextensive and important a field the working of this principle opens up\nto the ingenious toy-man. If a game, or games, can be invented, where\nthe child must have his attention occupied with one object, while he is\nobliged to answer questions, or to make observations, or to detail\nfacts, or in any other way to employ his speaking powers\nextemporaneously, (not repeating words by rote,) the person who does so\nwill greatly edify the young, and benefit the public.\n\nAnother method by which the principle may be called into exercise, is to\ntell a short story, or simple anecdote, and then to require the child to\nrehearse it again. In doing this, the mind of the child is employed in\ncommuning with the memory, while he is engaged in detailing to the\nteacher or monitor, the special circumstances in their order. Upon the\nprinciples of individuation and grouping, too, (the two most important\nprinciples, be it observed, which Nature employs with young children,)\nwe can perceive, that it will be much easier for the child, and at least\nequally powerful in producing the effect, if the teacher or parent shall\nconfine himself to one or two stories or anecdotes at a time, till, by\nrepeated attempts, the child can in its own words, and in its own way,\nreadily and fluently detail the whole of the circumstances to the\nparent or teacher, whenever required.\n\nA similar mode of accomplishing the same object, when the child is able\nto read, is, to require him at home to peruse a story of some length,\nand to rehearse what he can remember of it next day. This ought,\nhowever, in every case to be a narrative, or anecdote, consisting of\ngroupings which the child can, on reading, picture on his mind. If this\nbe neglected, there is danger of the child's being harassed and\nburdened, without any corresponding benefit being produced. It is here\nalso worthy of remark, that Dr Mayo's \"Lessons on Objects\" may be\nemployed for this purpose with considerable effect. If a list of\nqualities, such as colour, consistence, texture, &c. be put into the\nchild's hand, and he be required to elucidate and rehearse those\nrelating to one particular object, either placed before him, or, what is\nbetter, one with which he is acquainted, but which at the time he does\nnot see, the eye and the mind will be engaged with his paper, and in\nrecollecting the particular qualities of the object, at the same time\nthat he is employed in communicating his recollections.\n\nAnother method for producing the same end, consists in the parent or\nteacher repeating a sentence to the child, and requiring him to remember\nit, and to spell the several words in their order. Here the child has to\nremember the whole sentence, to observe the order of the several words,\nto chuse them one after another as he advances, and to remember and\nrehearse the letters of which each is composed. The mental exercise here\nis exceedingly useful, besides the advantages of training children to\ncorrect spelling. At the commencement of this exercise with a child, the\nsentence must be short, and he may be permitted to repeat each word\nafter he has spelled it, which will help him to remember the word that\nfollows;--but as he advances, he may be made to spell the whole without\npronouncing the words; and the length of the sentence may be made to\ncorrespond with his ability. Great care however should be taken by the\nteacher that this exercise be correctly performed.\n\nMany other methods for exercising the child's mind and oral powers at\nthe same moment, will be suggested by the ingenuity of teachers, and by\nexperience; and wherever a teacher hits upon one which he finds\nefficient, and which works well with his children, it is to be hoped\nthat he will not deprive others of its benefit. Such communications in\neducation, like mercy, are twice blessed. But the exercise which, for\nits simplicity and power, as well as for the extent of its application\nto the business and arrangements of the school, appears to answer the\npurpose best, and which embodies most extensively the stipulations\nrequired for the successful imitation of Nature in this part of her\nprocess, is that which has been termed the \"Paraphrastic Exercise.\" The\nexercise here alluded to has this important recommendation in its\npractical working, that while it can be employed with the child who can\nread no more than a sentence, it may be so modified and extended, as to\nexercise the mental and oral powers of the best and cleverest of the\nscholars to their full extent. It consists in making a child read a\nsentence or passage aloud; and, while he is doing so, in requiring him\nat the same moment, to be actively employed in detecting and throwing\nout certain specified words in the passage, and in selecting, arranging,\nand substituting others in their place; the child still keeping to the\nprecise meaning of the author, and studying and practising, as far as\npossible, simplicity, brevity, elegance, and grammatical accuracy. It\nmay be asked, \"What child will ever be able to do this?\" We answer with\nconfidence, that every sane pupil, by using the proper means, may attain\nit. This is no hypothesis, but a fact, of which the experiment in Leith\ngives good collateral proof, and of which long and uniform experience\nhas afforded direct and ample evidence. Any teacher, or parent indeed,\nmay by a single experiment upon the very dullest of his pupils who can\nread, be satisfied on the point. Such a child, by leaving out and\nparaphrasing first one word in a sentence, then two, three, or more, as\nhe acquires ability, will derive all the advantages above described;\nand, by advancing in the exercise, he may have his talents taxed during\nthe whole progress of his education to the full extent of their powers.\nIt is in this that one great recommendation lies to this exercise,--it\nbeing adapted to every grade of intellect, from the child who can only\nparaphrase a single word at a time, to the student who, while glancing\nhis eye over the passage, can give the scope of the whole in a perfectly\nnew form, and in a language and style entirely his own. Of the nature\nand versatility of this exercise we shall give a single example.\n\nLet us for this purpose suppose that a child sees in the first answer of\nthe First Initiatory Catechism the words, \"God at first created all\nthings to shew his greatness,\" and that the teacher wishes to exercise\nhis mind in the way, and upon the principle of which we are here\nspeaking, by making him paraphrase it. He begins by ascertaining that\nthe child knows the exact meaning of one or more of the several terms\nused in the sentence, and can give the meaning in other words. As for\nexample, he should be able to explain that the first word means, \"the\nAlmighty;\"--that the words at \"first,\" here signifies, at \"the beginning\nof time;\"--that \"created\" means, \"brought into existence;\"--that the\nterm \"all things,\" as here used, indicates, \"all the worlds in Nature,\nwith their inhabitants;\"--that the phrase to \"shew,\" means to \"exhibit\nto his rational creatures;\"--and that his \"greatness,\" at the close\nimplies, his \"infinite majesty and perfections.\"\n\nNow it must be obvious, that any one of these explanations may be made\nfamiliar to the dullest child that can read; and if _this_ can be done,\nthe principle may immediately be brought into exercise. For example,\nwhen the child knows that the first word means \"the Almighty,\" and that\n\"first\" is another way of expressing \"the beginning of time,\" he is\nrequired to read the whole sentence, and in doing so, to throw out these\ntwo words, and to substitute their meanings. He will then at once read\nthe sentence thus: \"[The Almighty,] at [the beginning of time,] created\nall things to shew his greatness.\" The same thing may be done with any\none or more of the others; and if the child at first feels any\ndifficulty with two, the teacher has only, upon the principle of\nindividuation, to make one of them familiar, before he be required to\nattend to a second; and to have two rendered easy before he goes forward\nto the third. Each explanation can be mastered in its turn, and may then\nbe employed in forming the paraphrase; by which means the child's mind\nis called to the performance of double duty,--reading from his\nbook,--throwing out the required words,--remembering their\nexplanations,--inserting them regularly and grammatically,--and perhaps\ntransposing, and re-constructing the whole sentence,--at the moment that\nhe is giving utterance to that which the mind had previously arranged.\n\nThe same thing may be done with a sentence from any book, although not\nso systematically prepared for the purpose as the Initiatory Catechisms\nhave been. The explanations of any of the words which may be pointed\nout, or under-scored by the teacher, can easily be mastered in the usual\nway by any of the children capable of reading them; and if he shall be\ngradually and regularly trained to do this frequently, his command of\nwords, in expressing his _own_ ideas, and his ability to use them\ncorrectly, will very soon become extensive and fluent. The importance of\nthis to the young is much more valuable and necessary than is generally\nsupposed. Nature evidently intends that childhood and youth should be\nthe seed-time of language; and the exercise here recommended, when\npersevered in, is well calculated to produce an abundant harvest of\nwords, suited for all kinds of oral communications.--Its importance in\nthis respect, as well as its efficiency in fulfilling all the\nstipulations necessary for imitating Nature in the exercise of the\nprinciple which we are here illustrating, will be obvious to any reader\nby a very simple experiment.\n\nFor this purpose the sentence which we have already employed may, for\nthe sake of illustration, be represented in the following form.--\"[God]\nat [first] [created] all [things] to [shew] his [greatness.]\"--Here each\nof the words, which we formerly supposed to be explained by the child,\nis inclosed in brackets. Now if the reader will be at the pains of\ntrying the experiment upon himself, and shall endeavour to observe the\nvarious operations of his own mind during it, he will at once perceive\nthe correctness of the above remarks. That he may have the full benefit\nof this experiment, he has only to fix upon any one--but only one--of\nthe inclosed words in the above sentence, and having ascertained its\nprecise meaning as before given, he must _read_ the sentence aloud from\nthe beginning, following the words with his eye in the ordinary way,\ntill he arrives at the word he has fixed on. This he leaves out, and in\nits stead inserts the explanation, and then goes on to read the\nremainder of the sentence.--At the first trial he will perhaps be able\nto detect in his own mind some of the difficulties, which the less\nmatured intellect of the young pupil has to encounter in his early\nattempts to succeed in the exercise; but he will also see, that it is a\ndifficulty easily overcome when it is presented singly, and when the\npupil is permitted to grapple with the paraphrasing of each word by\nitself. The reader will also be able to trace the operation of the young\nmind while engaged with the explanations, which differ entirely from\nthe words which he is at the moment looking upon and reading. He will\nobserve, that when the eye of the child arrives at the word fixed upon,\nhe has to pause in his utterance for a moment, till the mind goes in\nsearch of what it requires; in the same way, and upon precisely the same\nprinciple, that an infant who has managed to speak one word, has to\nstop, and go in search of the next, and then to concentrate the powers\nof its mind upon it, before he can give it expression. But if the reader\nwill repeat the operation to himself upon the _same word_, till he can\nread its explanation in the sentence without difficulty and without a\npause; and then do the same with two, then with three, and so on, till\nhe has completed the whole; he will be able to appreciate in some\nmeasure the importance of this exercise in training the young to such a\ncommand of language, as will enable them, on all known subjects, to\ndeliver fluently, and in any variety of form, the precise shade of\nmeaning which they wish to express.\n\nThis of itself will be a great attainment by the pupil; but it is not\nall. The reader will also perceive what must be the necessary result of\npersevering in this exercise, during the time of a child's attendance at\nschool, in training him to that calm self-possession,--that perfect\ncommand of the mind and the thoughts,--while engaged in speaking, which\nthe frequent and gradually extended use of this exercise is so well\ncalculated to afford. All the children of a school, without exception,\nmay be exercised by its means, and upon the same paragraph; for while,\nby the paraphrasing of but one word in a clause, it is within the reach\nof the humblest intellect; yet, by the changes and transpositions\nnecessary in more difficult passages, either to smooth asperities, or to\navoid grammatical errors, it provides an extemporaneous exercise suited\nto the talents of the highest grade in any seminary.\n\nThe collateral advantages also of this exercise, are both valuable and\nextensive. The operation of the principle which supposes double duty by\nthe mind, enters into the nature of numerous acts in ordinary life,\nbesides that of thinking and speaking, and which a perfect command of\nthe thoughts in paraphrasing will tend greatly to facilitate.--For\nexample, it will greatly assist the pupil in making observations during\nconversation, in attending to the weak and strong points of an argument,\nand in preparing his materials for a reply, while he is all the time\nhearing and storing up the ideas of a speaker.--It will enable him more\nextensively, and more deliberately to employ his mind on useful subjects\nwhile engaged with his work, even in those cases where a considerable\ndegree of thought is required;--and it will greatly aid him in acquiring\nthe art of \"a ready writer,\" and will be available, both when he himself\nwrites his own thoughts, or when he requires to dictate them to others.\nMany persons who can express their ideas well enough by speech, find\nthemselves greatly at a loss when they sit down to write them;--and this\narises entirely from the want of that command of the mind which is\nnecessary whenever it is called on to do double duty. The person cannot\nthink of that which he wishes to write, and at the same moment guide the\nhand in writing; in the same way, and for the same reason, that a child\ncannot answer a question and yet continue his play. By the use of the\nparaphrastic exercise, however, the pupil will soon be enabled not only\nto concoct in his own mind what he intends to write, during the time he\nis writing; but the faculty may, by the same means, be cultivated to\nsuch an extent, that he may at last be able to dictate to two clerks at\na time, and sometimes perhaps, (as it has been affirmed some have done)\neven to three.\n\nA similar collateral advantage, which will arise from the persevering\nuse of the paraphrastic exercise, deserves a separate consideration.--It\nwill gradually create a capacity to take written notes of a subject,\neither in the church, the senate, or the lecture room, during the time\nthat the speaker is engaged in delivering it. It is in the ability to\nhear and concoct in the mind one set of ideas, while writing down an\nentirely different set, that the whole art of accurate \"reporting\"\nconsists. The writing part of the process is purely mechanical; the\nperfection of the art consists chiefly in the command which the reporter\nacquires over the powers of his mind. The person while so employed has\nto hear and reiterate the ideas of the speaker as he proceeds; these he\nmust remember and arrange, selecting, abridging, condensing, or\nabandoning, according to the extent of his manual dexterity in writing.\nBut it is worthy of remark, that if the person be able to think,--to\nexercise his mind,--and to continue to write without stopping while he\ndoes so, the _amount_ of what he writes is a mere accident, and depends,\nnot upon the state of the mind, but upon the mechanical part of the\noperation, which is aided by the arts of stenography and abbreviation.\nThis mental capacity is most likely to be acquired by the regular and\npersevering use of the paraphrastic exercise. It will train the pupil to\nthat command over his thoughts, which, with a little practice in this\nparticular mode of applying it, will soon enable him, with perfect\nself-possession, to hear and to keep up with a speaker, while he\ncontinues without a pause, to write down as much of what has been said,\nas his command of the pen will allow. Without this mental ability, he\ncould not while listening write at all; but when it has been\nsufficiently acquired, there is no limit to his taking down all that is\nspoken, except what arises from the imperfection of the mechanical part\nof the process,--his manual dexterity. All these collateral advantages\nwill accrue to the pupils by the use of this exercise; and this latter\none will be greatly promoted in a school by a piece of history, an\nanecdote, or a paragraph of any kind, which none of the pupils know,\nbeing read slowly for only a few minutes, while the whole of the pupils\nwho can write are required to take notes at the time, and to stop and\ngive them in, as soon as the reading is finished.[28]\n\nIt is also here worthy of remark,--and it is perhaps another proof of\nthe efficiency of the several exercises before enumerated as imitations\nof Nature,--that they all, more or less, embody a portion of this\nprinciple of double duty performed by the mind. In each of them, when\nproperly conducted, the pupil is compelled to speak, and to think at the\nsame moment. Not a little of their efficiency and value indeed, may be\nattributed to this circumstance. In the catechetical exercise, for\nexample, it is not difficult to trace its operation. For in the attempt\nof the child to answer a question previously put to him, the teacher\nwill be at no loss to perceive the mind gradually acquiring an ability\nto think of the original question and of the ideas contained in the\nsubject from which he has selected his answer, at the very moment he is\ngiving it utterance. And a knowledge of the fact should excite teachers\nin general, so to employ this exercise as to produce this effect.--The\nanalytical exercise also, in its whole extent, calls into operation the\nworking of this principle, whether employed synthetically or\nanalytically. When children are employed with the analytical exercise\nproper,--as in tracing a practical lesson backwards to the subject or\ncircumstance from which it has been drawn, and in attaching that\ncircumstance to the story or class of truths to which it belongs; or\nwhen, as in the \"Analysis of Prayer,\" a text of Scripture has to be\nclassified according to its nature, among the several parts into which\nprayer is divided;--in all these cases, there is this same double\noperation of the mind, searching and comparing one set of ideas, while\nthe pupil is employed in giving expression to others.\n\nThe exhibition of the principle will be easily traced, from what took\nplace in the experiment in London, where the report states, that \"the\nthird class were next examined on the nature and practice of prayer.\nThey shewed great skill in comprehending and defining the several\ncomponent parts of prayer, as invocation, adoration, confession,\nthanksgiving, petition, &c. They first gave examples of each separately;\nand then, with great facility, made selections from each division in its\norder, which they gave consecutively; shewing, that they had acquired,\nwith ease and aptitude, by means of this classification, a most\ndesirable scriptural directory in the important duty of prayer. They\nthen turned several lessons and passages of scripture into prayer; and\nthe Chairman, and several of the gentlemen present, read to them\npassages from various parts of the Bible, which they readily classified,\nas taught in the 'Questions on Prayer,' and turned them into adoration,\npetition, confession, or thanksgiving; according to their nature, and as\nthey appeared best suited for each. Some of the texts were of a mixed,\nand even of a complicated nature; but in every case, even when they were\nnot previously acquainted with the passages, they divided them into\nparts, and referred each of these to its proper class, as in the more\nsimple and unique verses.\"\n\nBut a similar working of the same principle takes place when the\nanalytical exercise is employed synthetically, and when the pupil is\nrequired to go from the root, forward to the extreme branches of the\nanalysis, as is done when he forms an extemporaneous prayer, from a\nprevious acquaintance with its several divisions and their proper order.\nIn this very necessary and important branch of a child's education, the\n\"Analysis of Prayer\" is usually employed, and has, in thousands of\ninstances, been found exceedingly effective. During this exercise, the\nchild has steadily to keep in view the precise form and order of the\nAnalysis, and at the same moment he has to select the matter required\nunder each of the parts from the miscellaneous contents of his memory,\nto put them in order, and to give them expression. In doing this there\nis a variety of mental operations going on at the same moment, during\nall of which the pupil will soon be enabled continuously to give\nexpression to his own ideas, with as much ease and self-possession as if\nhe were doing nothing more than mechanically repeating words previously\ncommitted to memory. This is a valuable attainment; and yet the whole of\nthis complicated operation of attending to the several branches of the\nanalysis, and of selecting, forming, and giving utterance to his\nconfessions, his thanksgivings, and his petitions, with perfect\ncomposure and self-possession, is within the reach of every Christian\nchild. It is accomplished by a persevering exercise of the principle\nwhich has been illustrated above, and which is exemplified in the\nparaphrastic exercise. Many adults, it is believed, have been enabled,\nwith ease and comfort, to commence family worship by its means; and\nnumerous classes have been trained to the exercise in a few lessons. We\nshall here detain the reader by only a single example.\n\nThe writer having been requested to meet with the Sunday School Teachers\nof Greenock and its neighbourhood, about the year 1827 or 1828, paid a\nvisit to that place, and had the proposed meeting in a large hall of the\ntown, where he endeavoured to explain to them, practically, a few of the\nprinciples connected with Sunday School Teaching, as more scientifically\ndetailed in the present Treatise. For the purposes of that meeting,\nthree children belonging to one of the Sunday Schools, were for a few\nhours previously instructed, and prepared to exhibit the working of some\nof those principles which, it was hoped, would lessen the labour of the\nSunday School Teachers, and at the same time increase their influence\nand their usefulness. These children, (two girls and a boy,) about the\nages of ten or twelve years, were regularly instructed by means of the\ncatechetical exercise, in the doctrines, examples, and duties of\nChristianity; and among other subjects, they were made acquainted with\nthe \"Analysis of Prayer,\" and exercised by its means, without its being\nhinted to them, however, what use was intended to be made of it.\n\nThe meeting was a crowded one; where, besides the Sunday School\nTeachers, and Parents of the children, nearly all the Clergymen of the\nplace were present. When the more ostensible business of the meeting had\nbeen concluded, the writer consulted privately with two or three of the\nclergymen, and asked, whether they, knowing the general sentiments of\nthe persons composing the meeting, would think it improper that one of\nthe three children who had shewn themselves so intelligent, should be\ncalled on solemnly to engage in prayer with the audience before\ndismissing. To this they replied, that there could be no objections to\nsuch a thing, provided the children were able;--but of their ability,\nthey very seriously doubted. On this point, however, the writer assured\nthem there was no fear; and if that were the only objection, they would\nthemselves immediately see that it was groundless. The boy accordingly,\nwithout his even conjecturing such a thing previously, was, before the\nmeeting was dismissed, publicly called on to engage in prayer. He was\nfor a moment surprised, and hesitated; but almost immediately, on the\nrequest being repeated, he shut his eyes, and commenced, with a solemn\nand faltering voice for one or two sentences; when, recovering from\nevery appearance of trepidation, he proceeded with much propriety and\nsolemnity of manner, with great latitude, and yet perfect regularity and\nself-possession, through all the departments of adoration, confession,\nthanksgiving, and petition, in language entirely his own, selecting for\nhimself, and arranging his sentences agreeably to the Analysis, which\nwas evidently his guide from the beginning to the end. This Treatise\nwill, there is little doubt, be read by some who were that evening\npresent, and who will remember the universal feeling of surprise and\ndelight, at the perfect propriety of expression, the serenity of mind,\nand the solemnity of manner, which characterised the whole of this\nuncommon exercise. It did appear to many as a most unaccountable thing;\nbut when the principle is perceived, as explained above, the wonder must\nat once cease, and we can distinctly see, that by using the proper\nmeans, the same ability is within the reach of all who will be at the\npains to make the trial.\n\nThis same principle is also exercised to a very considerable extent in\ndrawing and applying lessons from a previous announcement. A very little\nattention to the operations of the mind in that exercise will be\nsufficient to shew this. Let us suppose, for example, that an\nannouncement is made to a child, from which he is required to draw a\npractical lesson. This announcement must be distinctly present to his\nmind, while he is engaged in considering its meaning, its moral\ncharacter, and its bearing on his own sentiments and conduct;--but more\nespecially, all this, besides the original announcement, has still to be\nkept in view, while he is engaged in giving the lesson to the teacher in\nhis own language as required. But in the application of the lessons, the\nprinciple is still more extensively called into operation. The child is\nasked, how he should act in certain given circumstances. These\ncircumstances must accordingly be kept steadily before the mind, during\nthe whole of the succeeding mental operation. He has to consider the\nlesson, or the conduct which he should pursue in these circumstances,\nand then, by the association of his ideas, he must call up from the\nwhole of his accumulated knowledge, the precepts, the examples, the\nwarnings, and even the implications, which form his authority for\ndeciding on the conduct which he ought to pursue. These again must be\nkept before the mind, while he is preparing, and giving in his own\nlanguage his conclusions to his teacher.\n\nAll this was very obvious in the several public experiments, where the\ndrawing of lessons, and the application of them by the pupils, were\nintroduced.--In the case of the adult prisoners in Edinburgh County\nJail, it was very observable; and the rolling of the eye, and the\nunconscious movement of the head, as if deeply engaged in some mental\nresearch when an application was required, were peculiarly pleasing and\nobvious to all the spectators. The reason was, that they had to keep\nbefore their mind, the circumstance, or statement involved in the\nquestion asked, while they had, at the same time, to review the several\nportions of their knowledge, chuse out the passage or example which was\ncalculated to direct them in the duty; and then, still keeping these\naccumulated ideas present before the mind, they had to prepare and give\nexpression to their answers. The same thing had to be done, but to a\nmuch greater extent, by the children in Aberdeen, in London, and in\nNewry. But the most satisfactory evidence of the beneficial working of\nthis principle, in the drawing and applying of lessons, and by this\nmeans in giving even to children a command of language, and a power of\nextemporaneous speech which is but rarely attained even by adults, is to\nbe found in the Seventh Experiment in Leith. The writer feels more at\nliberty in descanting upon the extraordinary results of that\ninvestigation with the children, because he had no share in their\nprevious instruction; the peculiar merits of which belonged entirely to\ntheir zealous and pious teacher. He was a plain unlettered man; and yet\nhe has trained hundreds of children in his Sunday school, whose\nintellectual attainments, for their age and rank in life, the writer has\nseldom known to be surpassed. There were exhibited by the children, from\nthe beginning of the experiment to the end, an amount of knowledge, a\ndegree of mental culture, a grasp of mind, and a fluency of expression,\nwhich had never before been witnessed in children of a similar class, or\nof the same age, by any person then present. The pupils were at the time\nquite unprepared for any extraordinary exhibition;--the subjects were\nchosen indiscriminately by the clergymen present, and were repeatedly\nchanged;--and what is still more extraordinary, it was found, upon\ninvestigation, that the subjects were in general entirely new, or at\nleast they had never been previously used as exercises in the school.\nThe children, however, with all these disadvantages, were perfectly at\nhome in each one of them. There appeared to be no exhausting of their\nresources; and the ease, and copiousness, and fluency of their language,\nwere remarked by all present, as extraordinary, and by some as almost\nincredible. Many who were present, could scarcely believe that the\nchildren spoke extemporaneously. All these phenomena were simply the\neffects of the principle of which we are here speaking, regularly\nbrought into operation, in the weekly acts of drawing and applying their\npractical lessons. The exhibition of so much mental power possessed by\nmere children,--and these children collected from the very humblest and\nrudest classes inhabiting a sea-port town,--appeared to be a\ncircumstance altogether new. The official persons present, and the very\nRev. Bishop Russell, who took an active part in the examination,\nexpressed their decided satisfaction at the results of the whole\nexperiment; and the effects of these principles, as illustrated by such\nchildren, made the present Lord Murray remark publicly at the close of\nthe meeting, that it was obviously \"a valuable discovery, calculated to\nbe extensively useful to society.\"\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[28] Note Z.\n\n\n\n\nPART IV.\n\nON THE SELECTION OF PROPER TRUTHS AND SUBJECTS TO BE TAUGHT IN SCHOOLS\nAND FAMILIES.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. I.\n\n_On the General Principles which ought to regulate our choice of Truths\nand Subjects to be taught to the Young._\n\n\nIn all cases where our temporal interests are concerned, a proper\ndiscrimination in the selection of such exercises and studies as shall\nbest suit our purpose, is considered as not only prudent, but necessary.\nThe neglect of this would, indeed, by men of the world, be esteemed the\nheight of folly. No ship-master thinks of perfecting his apprentices by\nlectures on agriculture; nor does the farmer train his son and successor\nto cultivate the land, by enforcing upon him the study of navigation. In\na public school, therefore, when all classes of the community are to be\ntaught, the truths and exercises should be selected in such a manner,\nthat they shall, if possible, be equally useful to all; leaving the\nnavigator and the agriculturist, the surgeon and the lawyer, to\nsupplement their _general_ education, by the study of those special\nbranches of learning which their several professions require.\n\nBut even this is not enough:--Among those subjects and exercises in\nwhich all the children in a school may be equally interested, there are\nmany which are neither equally useful, nor equally indispensable. A\nthorough consideration, and a careful selection of those which are most\nvaluable in themselves, and which are most likely to be useful during\nlife, become both prudent and necessary. In all ordinary cases, men act\nupon this principle. Health, food, and recreation, are all good and\nuseful things; but even from among these we are sometimes compelled to\nmake a choice, and the principle of our decision is always the same.\nWhen we cannot procure all, we chuse those which appear to us the most\nnecessary, and abandon the others without regret. A man readily denies\nhimself to sports and amusement, when he finds that he must labour for a\nsupply of food and necessaries; and even the pleasures of the table are\nwillingly sacrificed, for the purpose of securing or restoring the\nblessings of health. In like manner, those branches of education which\nare most important for securing the welfare of the pupils, and most for\nthe benefit of society, ought to be selected and preferred before all\nothers; seeing that to neglect, or wilfully to err in this matter, would\nbe injurious to the child, and unjust to the community.--Our object at\npresent therefore is, to enquire what those general principles are which\nought to regulate us in our choice of subjects and exercises for the\neducation of youth.\n\n1. The first and fundamental rule which ought to guide the Educationist\nand the Parent in the selection of subjects for the school, is to chuse\nthose which are to promote the happiness and welfare of _the pupil\nhimself_; without regard, in the first instance at least, to the\ninterests or the ease of his friends, of the teacher, or of any third\nparty whatever.--Children are not the property of their parents, nor\neven of the community. They are strictly and unalienably the property of\nthe Almighty, whose servants and stewards the parents and the public\nare. The child's happiness and welfare are entirely his own;--the free\ngift of his Maker and Master, of which no man, without his full consent,\nhas a right to deprive him. This happiness, and the full enjoyment of\nwhat he receives, both here and hereafter, have been made to depend on\nhis allegiance and his faithfulness, not to his parents, nor even to the\npublic, but to the great Lord of both. This allegiance therefore, is his\nfirst and chief concern, with which the will and the wishes, the\ninterests or the ease, of teachers and parents, have nothing to do. If\nthe directions of his Maker and Lord are attended to, he has nothing to\nfear. There is in that case secured for him an inheritance that is\nincorruptible, and far beyond the reach or the power of any creature. It\nis for the enjoyment of this inheritance that he has been born;--it is\nwith the design of attaining it, and for increasing its amount, that his\ntime is prolonged upon earth;--it is to secure it for him, and to\nprepare him for it, that the parent has been appointed his guardian and\nguide;--and it is for the purpose of promoting and overseeing all this\namong its members, that a visible church, and church officers, have been\nestablished and perpetuated in the world.\n\nIn so far as each individual child is concerned, the parent is the\nimmediate agent appointed by the Almighty for attending to these\nobjects; and although, in a matter of so much importance, he is\npermitted to avail himself of the assistance of the teacher, he, and he\nonly, is responsible to God for the due performance of those momentous\nduties which he owes to his child. When therefore the parents, for the\npurpose of forwarding some trifling personal advantage, or the teacher,\nfor his own ease or caprice, are found indifferent to the kind of\nexercises used in the school, or to the results of what is taught in\nit;--doing any thing, or nothing, provided the time is allowed to pass,\nwith at least the appearance of teaching;--they are, in such a case,\nbetraying an important trust; they are heedlessly frustrating the\nwishes, and resisting the commands of their Master and Lord; they are\nsapping the foundations of society; and are thoughtlessly and basely\ndefrauding the helpless and unconscious pupil of a most valuable\npatrimony.--In committing to parents the keeping and administration of\nthis sacred deposit, reason, conscience, and Scripture, all unite in\ndeclaring, that it is given them, not for the promotion of their own\npersonal advantages, but for the child's benefit; and that, while they\nnever can be permanently bettered by its neglect, their good, even in\nthis world, will be best and most surely advanced by a faithful\ndischarge of their duty to their offspring.\n\nThese remarks go to establish the general principle, that the parent is\nnot the proprietor, but merely the guardian and the administrator of the\nchild's interests. These interests are of various kinds. And although\nthe above remarks refer chiefly to the spiritual and eternal advantages\nof the young, that circumstance arises merely from their superior value\nand importance. The argument is equally conclusive in regard to every\none of his temporal concerns. For if both the parent and the child be\nthe special property of God, and if the parent has been appointed by him\nas the conservator and guardian of the child's happiness, he has no\nright either to lessen or to destroy it for any selfish purpose of his\nown. In every case--even of discipline--he is bound to follow the\ncommand and the example given him by his Father and Master in heaven,\nnot to chastise his offspring for his \"own pleasure,\" but for the\n\"child's profit.\" The rule therefore which ought to regulate the parent,\nand of course the Educationist, in making choice of the subjects and\nexercises for the school, is, that they shall really and permanently\nconduce to the _pupil's_ welfare and happiness, irrespective of the\nconflicting interests or wishes, either of the teacher, the parent, or\nthe public. These will usually be in harmony; but as a general\nprinciple, the exercises are to be chosen with reference to the welfare\nof the _child_,--not of the _community_.\n\n2. Another rule which ought to be attended to in the selection of\nsubjects and exercises for the seminary, is nearly allied to the former,\nbut which we think, from its vast importance, should have a separate\nconsideration. It is this, that a decided preference should be given to\n_every thing which advances the concerns of the soul, above those of the\nbody;--which prefers heaven to earth,--and eternity to time_.--Man is an\naccountable and an immortal creature;--and therefore there is no more\ncomparison between the value of those things which refer to his\nhappiness in eternity, and those which refer only to his enjoyments\nduring his lifetime, than there is between a drop of water and the\ncontents of the ocean;--nay, between a grain of sand and the whole\nphysical universe. The truth of this observation, when viewed in the\nabstract, is never questioned; and yet the educational principles which\nit naturally suggests are too often jostled aside, and practically\nneglected. It plainly teaches us, that the young ought to be made aware\nof the comparative nothingness of temporal and sensual objects, when\nplaced in competition with those which refer to their souls and\neternity; and that the subjects which are to be taught them in the\nschool, should tend to produce these feelings.--But this is not always\nthe case; and even when the subjects are in themselves unobjectionable,\nthe methods taken for teaching them frequently neutralize their effects.\nThe national evils which have arisen from this neglect are extensive and\nlamentable, consisting in an almost exclusive attention among all\nclasses to temporal matters, and to sensual gratifications. These\ncharacteristic, features in our people may all be traced, from their\nexhibition in general society, to the want of a thorough knowledge of\nthose truths which tend so powerfully to deaden the influence of the\nthings of sense and time, and to moderate our pursuit after them. It is\nin a particular manner at this point that the reckless cupidity, and\nthe debased and short-sighted selfishness of the lower classes, ought to\nbe met and removed, by the enlightened and kindly instructions of more\ncapacious minds. Society, as at present constituted, acts as if there\nwere no futurity. Time is the eternity of thousands; and therefore they\nthink only of time. Had they, as rational creatures, but a correct\nview,--however faint,--of their destination in eternity, their conduct\nand pursuits would very soon be changed, and their selected enjoyments\nwould become, not only more rational, but much more exquisite. Education\nis the instrument by which alone this can be effected, whether in the\nchurch or in the school; and to this point, both parents and children\nshould be assiduously directed for their own sakes, and for the sake of\nthe community.\n\nHitherto there has in education been too much of the mere shadow of\nrational knowledge, without the substance; and the consequence has been,\nthat many parents in the lower classes have never been able to perceive\ntheir _own_ best interests, and therefore it is that their children by\nthem have been equally neglected. Nor is this only a partial evil, or\nconfined to the lower classes.--It is, on the contrary, when we examine\nthe matter closely, nearly universal. Among ignorant and thoughtless\nparents, who are either unable or unwilling to look any further than the\nfew short years of life, the training of their children to figure\nrespectably and gracefully during it, may not perhaps excite much\nwonder;--but that such conduct should be followed by Christian parents,\nwho know that both they and their children have souls, and that there is\nsuch a thing as eternity before them both, is truly humbling. Nor is it\nmuch for the credit of the philosophy of the present day, that while its\npromoters admit as an axiom the superiority of moral and religious\nattainments, they are found in practice to bestow their chief attention,\nand to lavish most of their approbation on physical investigations and\non intellectual pursuits. Every sound thinker must see, that by doing\nso, the first principles of philosophy are violated; and many well\nmeaning persons are, by this inverted state of public opinion,\ninsensibly drawn away from the more valuable food provided for them as\nresponsible and immortal beings, to feed on the mere chaff and garbage\nof temporal and sensual enjoyments; or the more valuable, but still\ntemporary crumbs of the intellectual table. That this practical abuse of\nacknowledged truths should be found among the ignorant and the depraved,\nmight perhaps be expected; but that it should be witnessed, and yet\nwinked at, by men of learning and study, whose comprehensive minds,\nalthough still inadequate to comprehend the full import of an eternity\nof advancing knowledge, can yet appreciate the comparative\ninsignificance of seventy--nay of seventy thousand--years' investigation\ninto the mysteries of Nature, is very painful. We do not, in saying\nthis, depreciate in the slightest degree the sublime discoveries which\nare daily being made of the Almighty and his works;--but we say, upon\nthe soundest principles of philosophy, that were all these discoveries\nmultiplied ten thousand times, they could not for a moment compete with\nwhat yet remains to be communicated to the successful aspirant after the\nrevelations of eternity. Religion and morals are the only means by which\nsuccess in that great competition can be gained; and therefore, to a\nchild, a knowledge of all that man has yet discovered, or can ever know\nin this imperfect state of existence, is really as nothing, in\ncomparison with the knowledge and practice of but one religious truth,\nor with the slightest advance in the science of morals.--A child once\npossessed of a living soul is born for eternity. Its happiness has been\nmade to depend, not on the possession of physical good, or of\nintellectual power, but entirely on its moral condition;--and the\nphysical good it receives, and the intellectual power it attains; are\nnothing more than means intended by the Almighty to be used for the\npurpose of perfecting his moral condition while he is still in this\nworld. The whole period of his existence here, is but the moment of his\nbirth for eternity. Care and enlightened attention to his moral\ncondition during that short period of probation, will usher him\nspiritually alive and fully prepared for enjoying an eternal weight of\nintelligence and glory;--while inattention, or misdirected activity now,\nmay no doubt put him prematurely in possession of a few intellectual\nmorsels of this eternal feast, but it will assuredly shut him out from\nits everlasting enjoyment, and will entail on him comparative ignorance,\nand a living death for ever.\n\nIn this view of the case then,--and what Christian will deny that it is\nthe correct one,--there cannot be a more short-sighted proposition\nsuggested in the counsels of men, than that which would sanction a\nsystem of education for an _immortal_ being, that either overlooked, or\ndeliberately set aside, his well-being in eternity. The very idea is\nmonstrous. It is a deliberate levelling of man to the rank of mere\nsentient animals; and is another form of expressing the ancient advice\nof the sensualist, \"Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die.\" By\nevery person of learning, then, and even by individuals of humbler\nattainments, in the exercise of a plain common understanding, the\nimportance of the rule in education which we are here recommending, must\nat once be admitted;--That in the selection of truths and exercises for\neducating and training the young, a decided preference should always be\ngiven to those which have a reference to their well-being and happiness,\nnot in time so much as in eternity.\n\n3. In selecting subjects and exercises for the education of the young,\nthose are to be preferred, by which _the largest amount of true and\nsolid happiness is to be secured to the pupil_.--A man's happiness is\nhis only possession. Every thing else which he has, is only the means\nwhich he employs for the purpose of acquiring or retaining it. Happiness\naccordingly, by the very constitution of our nature, is the great object\nof pursuit by every man.[29] The means of happiness are no doubt\nfrequently mistaken, and often substituted for happiness itself. But\neven these conflicting circumstances, when properly considered, all tend\nto shew, that happiness is the great object desired, and that it is\nuniversally sought after by every intelligent mind. By a wise and\nbeneficent arrangement of the Almighty, it has been so ordered, that\nhappiness is to be found only in the exercise of the affections;--and\nthe amount of the happiness which they confer, is found to be\nproportionate to the excellence of the object beloved. The love of God\nhimself, accordingly, is the first of duties, and includes the\nperfection of happiness. The love of all that are like him, and in\nproportion as they are so, ranks next in the scale; and hence it is,\nthat all moral excellence,--the culture of the affections and the\nheart,--is to be preferred to intellectual attainments, as these again\nare to take precedence of mere physical good.\n\nThis established order for the attainment of happiness, is in society\nmost strangely inverted. Beauty, strength, honour, and riches,--mere\nphysical qualities,--are generally preferred to the qualities of the\nmind;--and mental attainments, again, too often command more\nconsideration than moral worth. This is altogether an unnatural state of\nthings; and the consequences of its prevalence in any community, must be\nproportionally disastrous. How far the modes for conducting the\neducation of the young hitherto have tended to extend or perpetuate this\nerror, it is not for us here to say. But if they have, the sooner the\nevil is rectified the better. Happiness, as we have said, is the single\naim of man,--however he may mistake its nature, or the means by which\nit is to be attained. And as it is to be found, not in intellectual\npower, nor in the possession of physical good, but only in moral\nculture, it follows, that the attainment of this moral excellence should\nbe the one chief design aimed at in the education of the young.\n\nThe benevolence and wisdom of this arrangement are obvious. For had\nhappiness been made to depend on the possession of _intellectual_ power,\nfew comparatively could have commanded the time and means which are\nnecessary for the purpose; and had it been attached to the possession of\nriches, or honour, or any other species of _physical_ good, there would\nhave been still fewer. But it is not necessarily attached to the\npossession of either. Men may enjoy riches and honours, beauty and\nhealth, and yet they may be unhappy. The highest mental attainments\nalso, when disjoined from moral excellence, tend only, as in the fallen\nangels, to stimulate their pride, and to aggravate their misery. But\nhappiness is exclusively and unalterably attached to the cultivation of\n_the affections_,--to the acquisition of moral excellence;--so that it\nis equally within the reach of every individual, however obscure, or\nhowever talented. Few men can be intellectually great,--fewer still can\nbe rich or powerful; but every man may, if he pleases, be good,--and\ntherefore happy. In choosing the subjects and exercises then for the\neducation of the young, those which tend to the production and to the\ncultivation of the moral affections,--love to God, and love to men,--are\nalways to be preferred to those which have relation merely to the\nattainment of _intellectual_ acquirements, or the possession of mere\n_physical_ good.\n\n4. In choosing subjects and exercises for the education of the young,\nreference should be had, all other things being equal, to _the\nprosperity and welfare of the community in general_.--We have already\nshewn that, under God, the happiness and welfare of every individual\nare his own special property, and must in all cases, therefore, be at\nhis special disposal. No ordinary combination of circumstances will ever\nwarrant an unjust encroachment on what is so peculiarly his own. But the\nhappiness and welfare of an individual are almost uniformly found to be\nconnected with the happiness and prosperity of those with whom he has to\nassociate. The Educationist, therefore, ought to have the welfare of the\ncommunity in view, while he is selecting those exercises which are\nspecially to benefit his pupil; and he will almost invariably find, that\nby choosing those subjects and exercises for the individual, which will\ntend most surely to promote the general well-being of society, he will\nnot only not require a sacrifice of any of the personal benefits to\nwhich the child has a claim, but that he will greatly increase their\namount, and add to their value. When this is the case, to overlook the\ngood of the community in selecting exercises and subjects for the\nschool, would be of no advantage to the pupils, and would be an act of\npositive injustice to the public at large.\n\nThese general principles, we think, when considered singly, must approve\nthemselves to every thinking mind; and if so, they must be still more\nbeneficial when they are combined, and acted upon systematically in the\npreliminary arrangements of any seminary. The nearer, therefore, the\nEducationist can keep to them in making his selection of subjects and\nexercises, the better will it be both for the pupil and for the\ncommunity at large, while the benefits expected from an exercise where\nthere is any material deviation from them, will most probably turn out\nto be delusive, and the exercise itself detected as the mere bequest of\nan antiquated prejudice, or the temporary idol of fashion. These\nprinciples being admitted to be sound in the abstract, will greatly\nassist us in deciding upon the relative value and appropriateness of\nsome of the propositions which we shall immediately have to submit to\nthe reader; and we would here only remark, for his guidance, that if, in\nthe following recommendations, he finds an exercise correctly to accord\nwith the above principles, while he yet hesitates as to the propriety of\nits adoption in the school, or feels inclined to accede to its\nexclusion,--he ought, in such a case, carefully to review the grounds of\nhis decision, as these are most likely to be erroneous. He has good\nreason to suspect that he is labouring under prejudice, or is unduly\nbiassed by long cherished opinions, when he refuses the legitimate\napplication of a general law,--a law which he has previously admitted to\nbe sound,--and which is as likely to be applicable to the case in hand,\nas to any other of a similar kind.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[29] Note R.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. II.\n\n_On the particular Branches of Education required for Elementary\nSchools._\n\n\nIn making choice of suitable subjects for the education of a community,\nthere are two considerations which ought to regulate us in our\nselection. The one is, the indications of Nature respecting any branch\nof education; and the other is, the peculiar usages of the place and\npersons with whom the pupil is destined to associate. As an example of\nthe former class of subjects, we may instance reading and writing; and\nof the latter, book-keeping and the classics. The branches belonging to\nthe former will be found more or less useful to all without exception;\nwhile those which rank under the second class, although requisite for\nsome, will be found unnecessary, and generally useless, to many. From\nthe character of the present work, our business is chiefly with the\nformer class; and we shall therefore advert very shortly to a few of\nthem, pointing out the intimations of Nature respecting them, and\ngiving a few hints as to the best methods by which they may be taught.\n\nAnd first of all, _Religion and Morals_ are clearly pointed out by\nNature as a branch of education peculiarly necessary for the young. On\nthis we shall not here again enlarge, but shall merely refer the reader\nto some of our previous pages, where it has been made sufficiently\nclear.[30]\n\nNext in importance as a branch of education plainly indicated by Nature,\nwe ought to rank _the principles of Natural Philosophy_. We say next _in\nimportance_, not _in time_; because they are evidently not to be taught\nto the child in this order, although it will be found in experience that\nthese principles may be communicated by successive \"steps\" much sooner\nthan is generally thought.[31] Nature begins early; and so should we.\nThe very infant becomes practically a natural philosopher, and continues\nto act regularly upon the truths or principles which experience enables\nhim to detect. He soon learns that flame burns, that clothes keep his\nbody warm, that stumbling will cause a fall, and that the support of a\nchair or stool will prevent it. As he grows up he learns the danger of\nhandling sharp knives, hot irons, and burning coals; he learns to detect\nsome of the effects of the mechanical powers, which he frequently\napplies, although he cannot explain them. This we perceive exemplified\nin his ingenious contrivances in cutting his sticks, wrenching with\nforks, hammering with stones, kicking with his toes, and afterwards more\npowerfully with his heels; in trundling his hoop, in sailing his mimic\nfleets by the force of his breath, and in adapting to the requisite\nmoving powers his wind and water mills. He even learns to know something\nof the composition of forces, as we perceive by his contrivances in the\nflying of his kite, the shooting of his marbles, and the rebounding of\nhis ball. Now, as these adaptations are never to be ranked under the\nclass of instinctive actions, but have been in every case acquired by\nactual experience, it shews, that there is an outgoing of the mind in\nsearch of principles, and we think it is probable, that these principles\nare often, although perhaps but dimly perceived, from the various, and\nfrequently successful contrivances of the child in difficulties, and in\ncircumstances when he is desirous of procuring relief. This at all\nevents shews us, that children are very early prepared, and capable of\nreceiving instruction of this kind.\n\nThe _importance_ attached by Nature to this branch of learning, is not\nless remarkable, than is its universality. It is the great hinge upon\nwhich every temporal comfort of the individual is made to turn. What we\nhave here termed \"natural philosophy,\" is to the body and to time, what\nreligion and morals are to the soul and eternity;--the well-being of\nboth depends almost entirely upon the proper application of their\nseveral principles. It is no doubt true, that the principles are not\nalways very clearly perceived; but it is equally true, that the\napplication of these principles will be more easy, more frequent, and\nmuch more effective, when they are made familiar by teaching. Hence the\nimportance of this branch of education for the young.\n\nNext in importance as branches of education, and prior perhaps in point\nof time, come the arts of _Reading_ and _Writing_.--Speech is a valuable\ngift of Nature, bestowed upon us for the communication of our ideas, and\n_writing_ is nothing more than a successful imitation of Nature in doing\nso. The hearing of speech, in like manner, is closely copied in the art\nof _reading_. These two arts, therefore, as most successful imitations\nof Nature, recommend themselves at once to the notice of the teacher as\nan important branch of education for the young. The one enabling him to\nspeak with the hand, and to communicate his ideas to his friend from\nany distance; and the other, the art of hearing by the eye, and by which\nhe can make the good and the wise speak to him as often and as long as\nhe may feel inclined.[32]\n\nOf _Arithmetic_, we may only remark, that the necessity of sometimes\nascertaining the number of objects, of adding to their number, and at\nother times of subtracting from them, indicates sufficiently that this\nis a branch of education recommended by Nature. It may only be necessary\nhere to remark, that, from various concurring circumstances, it appears,\nthat what is called the Denary Scale is that which is most conducive to\ngeneral utility. As to the nature of Arithmetic, and the best methods of\nteaching it, we must refer to the Note.[33]\n\n_Music_ is one of Nature's best gifts. The love of it is almost\nuniversal; and few comparatively are unable to relish and practise it.\nIts effect in elevating and refining the sentiments in civilized\nsociety, is matter of daily observation; and its power to \"soothe the\nsavage breast,\" has been often verified. To neglect the cultivation of\nmusic, therefore, during childhood and youth, when it can be best done,\nnot only without interference with other branches of study, but with\ndecided advantage in forwarding them, is both imprudent and unjust. We\nsay that it is _unjust_;--for while much ingenuity and large sums of\nmoney have been expended in producing musical instruments for the\ngratification of men, the child of the poorest beggar is in possession\nof an instrument in the human voice, which for sweetness, variety,\nexpression, and above all, for its adaptation to language, has never\nbeen equalled, and stands quite unapproachable by all the contrivances\nof man. How cruel then in parents or teachers to allow an instrument so\nnoble and so valuable to fall to ruin from the want of exercise! It is\nto deprive their pupil of a constant solace in affliction, and to dry\nup one of the cheapest, the readiest, and the most innocent and\nelevating sources both of personal and social enjoyment. Of its uses,\nand methods of teaching in the school, we must again refer to the\nNotes.[34]\n\n_Dancing_ is obviously the sister of music, and is perhaps equally\nsanctioned by Nature. It is obviously capable of being consecrated and\nemployed for high moral purposes; and its abuse therefore should form no\nargument against its regular cultivation. That it was so employed by the\nappointment of God himself, is matter of history; and that it is still\ncapable of being preserved from abuse, cannot reasonably be denied. The\nstand that has so frequently been made against even the innocent\nenjoyment of this boon of Nature, is now admitted to be a prejudice,\nderived originally from its flagrant and frequent abuse. These\nprejudices are gradually and silently melting away; and it is cheering\nto see the better feelings of our nature effectively advancing the art\nto its legitimate place in education, under the guise of gymnastics and\ncallisthenics. That these, however, are but imperfect substitutes for\nwhat Nature has intended for the young, is obvious, when we contrast\nthem with the gambols of the kitten, the friskings of the lamb, and the\nunrestrained romps of healthy children newly let loose from the school.\nThe truth is, that the accumulation of the animal spirits must be thrown\noff by exercise, whether the parent or teacher wills it or no; and if\nthe children are not taught to do this _by rule_, as in dancing, they\nwill do it without rule, and perhaps beyond the proper limit, both as to\ntime, place, and quantity. Education indeed cannot be expected to\nflourish to the extent desired, till the mental labours of the school\ncan be occasionally relieved by some physical exercise, either within\ndoors, or in the open air.[35]\n\nThe love of pictures and of _Drawing_ is also a boon bestowed upon us by\nNature, and is a desirable acquisition for the young. The art may\ngenerally be acquired with little trouble, and often with great\nenjoyment. It is certainly neither so necessary, nor so valuable, as\nsome of the branches of which we have been speaking; but as it may be\neasily attained, and as its future exercise will always be a source of\ninnocent and refined enjoyment, it ought to occupy a place in every\neducational institution. Almost every person is gratified by looking\nupon a good picture; and few comparatively are unable to acquire the\nrudiments of the art which produces them. It requires but little\nteaching, provided good copies be procured;--and even these will be\nfrequently unnecessary, where the pupils are encouraged to copy from\nNature. The proper methods of doing this, however, must be left to the\ncircumstances of the school, and to future experiments.\n\nWith respect to the teaching of _History_, a little consideration will\nconvince us, that it does not consist in the mere communication of\nhistorical facts. History is, or ought to be, a science; and the\nsuccession of events is nothing more than the implements employed by the\nmaster in teaching it. The _facts_ of history, like those of chemistry,\nagriculture, or mechanics, are taught merely as means to an end.--They\nare the elements from which we derive principles, which are to be\npractically applied by the learner; and it is _the ability to apply\nthese_ that constitutes the learning. The facts upon which any science\nis based, must no doubt be known before it can be taught;--but they may\nbe known without the science having ever been mastered: For it is not a\nknowledge of the facts, but the capacity to _make use_ of them, that\nentitles a man to the appellation of a chemist, an agriculturist, a\nmechanic, or a historian.\n\nViewing the study of history in this light, we at once perceive, that\nthe teaching which it requires is not a dry detail of dates and\ncircumstances;--but the practical uses which ought to be made of them.\nThe only legitimate use of history is to direct us how we ought to\nconduct ourselves as citizens, and how rulers and governors can most\nsafely and successfully manage the affairs of the public, in all the\nvarying events of political change. The teacher therefore is to\ncommunicate the facts, for the purpose of turning them to use, by\ndrawing, and teaching his pupils how to draw lessons of prudence,\nenergy, or caution, as regards the nation;--in the same way that\nBiography is taught for the sake of drawing lessons of a more personal\nkind, as regards a family or a neighbourhood. Both were practically\nexhibited in the experiment in Aberdeen; by which it was made obvious,\nthat children, as well as adults, were capable of studying it. Where the\ncircumstances of a seminary will admit, it ought not to be neglected.\nThe mere inconveniences which may for some time attend the introduction\nof such a mode of teaching history is no good reason for its neglect;\nand the want of practical elementary books drawn up upon this plan, in\nthe form of successive \"Steps,\" is the chief desideratum, which we hope\nsoon to see supplied.\n\n_Geography_ is another branch of education pointed out to us by Nature\nfor the benefit of man. We speak here, however, of physical geography,\nand not of the historical and political departments of it. These belong\nmore properly to history. The chief object in teaching this science, is\nto convey to the mind of the pupil a correct idea of this world as a\nsphere, on the top of which he stands, and of the relative positions of\nall the kingdoms and countries on its surface. This will be, and it\nought to be, a work of time. The more correctly and familiarly the pupil\ncan form the idea of this sphere as a whole, the sooner and the better\nwill he become acquainted with its parts. Acting upon the principles of\nreiteration and analysis, formerly described, the pupil ought to\nsketch, however rudely, the great outlines of the four divisions of the\nearth, upon a blank, or slate globe, till he can do so with some degree\nof correctness. The separated divisions may then be sketched on a common\nslate, without caring as yet for the details; and when this can be\naccomplished readily, the same thing may be done with the different\nkingdoms of which they are severally composed. The child ought never to\nbe harassed by the minute details, till he comes to sketch the\ncountries, or the counties. What is required _before this_, is their\nrelative position, more than their form; and this, upon the principle of\nanalysis, will be easiest and most permanently acquired by mastering in\nthe first place the great outlines.\n\nChildren, by mere imitation, will practically acquire the art of\n_Grammar_, long before they are capable of learning it as a science. It\nought invariably to be taught by \"Steps;\" and the child should have a\nperfect knowledge of the etymological part, before he is allowed to\nadvance to syntax. The efficiency of this concluding part of grammar,\ndepends entirely upon his familiarity with the former. It will therefore\nbe found here, as in the practice of arithmetic, that the prize will\nultimately be awarded, not to him who expends most labour and strength\nin running, but to him who has made the best preparation for the race.\n\nThe art of _Composition_, or the ability to express our thoughts in an\norderly and natural form, is the last branch of education to which, as\nrecommended by Nature, we shall here allude. The perfection of this art\nappears to depend on three circumstances. There must be a clear\nunderstanding of the subject upon which the person is to write;--there\nmust, in the second place, be a distinct perception of the most natural\norder in which it ought to be presented to the mind and imagination of\nothers;--and the third is, an ability to manage these materials with\nfacility, and without distraction of mind, while engaged in writing\nthem. As to the first of these three, nothing requires to be said here,\nas the exercises recommended in the previous part of this Treatise will\nalmost invariably accomplish it. With respect to the second, that of\npresenting the ideas connected with the subject in due and proper order,\nit may be remarked, that the hints formerly given, as to the natural\norder of \"grouping\" objects to be presented to the imagination, will be\nof great use here, and to them we must refer;[36]--and the third object\nhere required, that of managing the thoughts at the moment of writing\nthem, has been in effect already described and treated of, in a previous\npart of this Treatise.[37] It is the same kind of ability as that which\nis required for acquiring fluency and ease in extemporaneous speaking,\nand is to be gained by the use of the same means. It is here only\nnecessary to observe, that abstract teaching and general directions are\nnot the things most required for forwarding a child in this branch of\nhis education. These, at an advanced stage of his learning, will no\ndoubt be of service; but till the pupil can write with some degree of\nfreedom, they are in a great measure useless, or worse. What is wanted\nmost in our elementary schools, is a successful _beginning_;--suitable\nexercises to assist the pupil in writing his own thoughts properly, but\nin his own way. Many methods have been devised to effect this, and with\nmore or less success;--but we believe the most efficient, because the\nmost natural and simple, is that which has been engrafted upon the\nparaphrastic exercise. In regard to its ease, it is only necessary to\nsay, that a child who can but write a sentence, may begin to practise\nit;--and its efficiency may be argued from the fact, that while every\nstep is progressive, the advanced exercises give ample scope for the\nabilities of the cleverest in the school.[38]\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[30] See Part II. chap. x. p. 111. Part III. chap. ix. p. 257, and p.\n310-313. For the methods of teaching, see Note S.\n\n[31] Note T.\n\n[32] Note U.\n\n[33] Note V.\n\n[34] Note W.\n\n[35] Note A a.\n\n[36] See pages 215, 216.\n\n[37] See Pages 297, &c.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP III.\n\n_On the Easiest Methods of Introducing these Principles, for the first\ntime, into Schools already established._\n\n\nThat the educational principles attempted to be developed in the\npreceding pages, shall ultimately pervade the great fields of Elementary\nlearning, admits we think of but little doubt; and yet the diminutive\nword \"When?\" in relation to this change, forms a question, which it\nwould be extremely difficult to answer. Every improvement of the kind\nhitherto has been gradual; and experience shews, that the admission of\nthe most important principles in Science, has been often retarded,\nrather than forwarded, by undue precipitation on the part of their\nfriends. It is with this historical fact in view that the following\nhints are now offered, in order to render any sudden change unnecessary,\nand to enable teachers gradually to feel their way to greater success by\n_new_ methods, without making any material change for some time on the\n_old_. We speak advisedly when we say, that two half hours daily, if\nregularly and honestly employed in working out these principles in a\nschool, will do more real good in forwarding the education of the pupils\nattending it, than all the rest of the day put together. This portion of\ntime, divided between the two parts of the day, would not materially\ninterfere with the usual routine of any seminary, which might still be\nproceeded with as before, till the teacher saw his way more clearly in\nenlarging the exercises, and extending the time.\n\n_Younger Classes._--With respect to the young children who are as yet\nincapable of understanding by reading, we would advise that they be\nrepeatedly exercised by a monitor in sections of four or five, during\nnot more than ten or fifteen minutes at a time, by means of the\n\"Scripture Groupings for children.\" The Key to that little book will\nenable any monitor, or even scholar, who can read, efficiently to\nperform this duty. The design here is chiefly mental exercise; but with\nthat mental exercise, the most important and valuable information may be\ncommunicated. The monitor is to announce a sentence, and then to\ncatechise on it, taking care to avoid all \"Catechetical Wanderings,\"[39]\nand confining himself strictly to the sentence announced, from which the\nchild in that case will always be able to bring his answer.\n\nWhen a section has been mastered, the children may be encouraged to tell\nthe story in their own way, the monitor taking care that the child is\nnot reiterating the _words_, instead of the _ideas_. A few of the moral\ncircumstances may also be presented to their minds, and the lessons\ndrawn and applied according to their capacity.\n\n_Second Classes._--Where the children are capable of reading, they may\nget a section of the \"Groupings,\" or of any of the \"First Steps,\" to\nread at home. On this they ought to be catechised in school, before\nreading it there, to see whether it has been previously read and\nunderstood or not. This preparation ought to be strictly enforced. They\nmay then read it by sentences in turn, be catechised upon it, have the\nmoral circumstances separated, and the lessons drawn and applied. One\nsection should in general be _thoroughly known and mastered_, before\npassing to another; and all the previous sections should be frequently\nand extensively revised, chiefly by the application of their several\nlessons.\n\n_Higher Classes._--The whole school, with the exception perhaps of the\nvery young classes, may be taken together, and catechised on some\nsection of one of the Steps, or on a passage of Scripture previously\nprescribed. This they ought each to read and understand _at home_, and\nbe prepared to paraphrase it, to separate the moral circumstances, and\nto draw the corresponding lessons.[40] This will in a short time be easy\nfor them; and to ensure the preparation, the name of each pupil ought to\nbe kept on a separate card, and these being shuffled, the teacher, after\nasking the question at the whole, may take the upmost card, and require\nthat child to answer it. All must in that case be prepared, as none can\nknow but he may be the person who shall be called on publicly to answer.\nThe application of the lessons will be found the most useful, and to the\nchildren the most interesting part of this exercise. In this the teacher\nsupposes a circumstance, or situation, corresponding to the lesson\ndrawn, in which the pupils may be placed; and he requires them to say\nhow they ought to act in such a case. When they give their _opinion_,\nthey must then give their _authority_; that is, they must refer to the\nlesson, and through the lesson, to the Scripture truth from which it was\ndrawn.\n\n_Natural Philosophy._--In teaching the principles of _Natural\nPhilosophy_, a select class may be formed, more circumscribed as to\nnumber, and from among the more advanced scholars. To these, a section,\nor part of section, of the \"First Step to Natural Philosophy,\" is to be\ngiven to prepare at home,--to understand, and to be ready to draw and\napply the lessons,--in a manner similar to that prescribed above, and as\nillustrated in the Key to that work.\n\n_Writing._--In teaching the art of _Writing_, upon the preceding\nprinciples, the chief object is to train the pupils easily and readily\nto _write down their own thoughts_. To accomplish this, a certain\nportion of their time may be occupied as follows. The teacher reads a\nsentence, or a paragraph, or, what will perhaps be better, a short\nstory, or anecdote, and requires the whole of them to write it down in\ntheir _books_ for after examination. These of course are to be examined\nand corrected, with any necessary remarks by the teacher or\nassistant.--In this exercise, there is no necessity for circumscribing\nthe pupils as to time,--it being required that they write accurately,\ngrammatically, and neatly, whether in large or small text. To all those\nwho are first finished, some other exercise ought to be provided that\nthey may in that manner usefully occupy the time that may remain of\ntheir hour.\n\n_Arithmetic._--The introduction of the Arithmetic Rod, and its Key, into\na school, will be productive of many advantages.[41] The line of figures\nupon the A side of the Rod, being painted on a board in sight of the\nwhole school, and which is never required to be altered, the teacher has\nonly to announce a sum to be added to each of the figures; the first\npupil that is done, deposits his slate on a table, stool, or form, and\ngoes to his place; the next places his slate above his, and the others\nin the same way as they finish. The answer in the Key will shew their\naccuracy, and the order in which their slates lie points out their\nrespective merits. Another very important object is gained by this\nexercise; for the teacher, by recording the time taken by any one of the\npupils in adding a particular sum to the line, can measure by the watch\nthe rate of his improvement every month, every week, or even every day.\nThe parents of any child, by means of the Rod and its Key, can also do\nthis at home with perfect exactness.\n\nThese hints for the regulation of teachers are thrown out with great\ndeference, as they have not been sufficiently tested by actual\nexperiments. Teachers, however, will be able, each for himself,\naccording to the circumstances of his school, and the capacities of his\nchildren, to adopt such parts as he finds most effective; and so to\nmodify others, that the end shall perhaps be more efficiently gained,\nthan by strictly adhering to any one of them.--Education in all its\nparts is yet in its infancy; and these crude hints can only be expected\nto help it forward to maturity.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[38] See Key to Second Initiatory Catechism, pages xxi. & xxii.\n\n[39] See Complete Directory for Sunday School Teachers, vol. i. p. 278.\n\n[40] For these exercises the Teacher or monitor will find himself\ngreatly assisted by means of the \"Helps\" to Genesis, Luke, Acts, &c.\nwhere, besides the lessons, all the explanations are given in the form\nof a paraphrase.\n\n[41] See Note V.\n\n\nTHE END.\n\n\n\n\nNOTES\n\n\nNote A, pages 45 and 55.--It may perhaps be reasonably objected to this\nterm of \"Reiteration,\" that it is a new term for an act of the mind\nwhich has already received another name. The Author's excuse is\ntwo-fold. In the first place, he thinks, that any other term which he\ncould have employed, might have been misunderstood, as writers are not\nas yet at one on the subject. But, secondly, no other term would have\nincluded so fully all that he intends to designate by the act of\n\"Reiteration.\" In this he may be mistaken; but as it is of little\nconsequence by what name an object may be called, provided the thing so\nnamed be properly defined, he thought it safest to apply the term he\nbest understood, and which, in his opinion, most correctly describes the\nact itself.\n\nThe same thing may be said of the terms, \"Individuation,\" \"Grouping,\"\nand \"Classification,\" which may perhaps be nothing more than\n\"Abstraction,\" \"Combination,\" and \"Generalization.\" His misconception of\nthose latter terms, and of what is included in them, may have led him to\nthink that the mental operations which he has perceived in the young are\ndifferent. If so, there can be little harm in using the terms here\nadopted; but if, on the contrary, they do really include more, it would\nhave been hurtful to use a term which had been previously defined, and\nwhich did not include the whole that was intended.\n\n\nNote B, p. 56.--It may be a question, but one certainly of little\npractical consequence, whether we ought to place the principle of\n\"Individuation,\" or this of \"Reiteration,\" first in order. The child, no\ndoubt, fixes upon the individual object before he can reiterate it; but\nit is still this act of reiteration that first impresses the idea on the\nmind, and constitutes it a part of his knowledge.\n\n\nNote C, p. 58.--It may be proper here to explain once for all, that it\nis not the intention of the Author, as indeed he has not the ability, to\ndefine scientifically the mental processes which he thinks he has\nobserved in the young. His object is simply to point them out, so that\nthey may be successfully imitated by the teacher in the exercises of the\nschool.\n\n\nNote D, p. 60.--The fact, that children who learn to repeat words\nwithout understanding them, do sometimes acquire the meaning of them\nafterwards, is no valid objection to the accuracy of this statement.\nRepeated experiments, in various forms, and with different persons, have\nestablished the important fact, that when children at any future period\nmaster the ideas contained in the words which they had previously\ncommitted to memory, it is not _because_ of that exercise, but _in spite\nof it_. They have attained them by another, and a perfectly different\nprocess. It is generally by reading the words from the memory,--thinking\nthem over,--and in that way searching for, and reiterating the ideas\nthey contain. This is much more difficult than when the person reads for\nthe first time the same words from a book; and it has this serious\ndisadvantage, that it has to be read from the memory _every time_ the\nideas are required, which is not the case when the ideas are reiterated\nin the natural way by hearing, or by reading.--On this subject see the\nExperiment made before the Clergy and Teachers of Stirling, in July\n1833, with \"Blind Alick\" of that place, who could repeat the whole\nBible;--and the Supplementary Experiment to ascertain the same\nprinciple, made in the House of Correction in Belfast, before the\nTeachers and Clergymen of that town, in December 1837.\n\n\nNote E, p. 83.--Perhaps it may be found, that \"Grouping,\" and\n\"Classification,\" are only different manifestations of the same\nprinciple. But even if it were so, it would have been necessary here to\ntreat of them separately, on account of the very different uses made of\nthem by Nature. The present, be it observed, is not a metaphysical\ntreatise, but a humble attempt to be popularly useful.--See Note C.\n\n\nNote F, p. 105.--This principle may by some be considered as \"instinct,\"\nand others may affirm that it is \"reason.\" All that we require to do\nhere is to point out the phenomenon,--not to define it. The name is of\nlittle consequence. It is the principle itself, as perceived in its\nmanifestations, that we have to do with, for the purpose of successfully\nimitating it in our dealings with the young.\n\n\nNote G, p. 132.--There needs scarcely any farther proof of this than the\nfact, that barristers, by constant practice, are usually the most fluent\nextemporaneous speakers. It is also strongly corroborative of the\nstatement in the text, that clergymen generally, and especially those\nwho are most accustomed to the use of extemporaneous prayers and\nsermons, find most ease in replying to an opponent on any subject that\nis familiar to them.\n\n\nNote H, p. 160, & 201.--It is a very remarkable fact, to which the\nattention of the writer was lately called, that Mrs Wesley, the mother\nof the Rev. John Wesley, founder of the Wesleyan Methodists, appears to\nhave acted upon the principles here developed. In Southey's Life of that\ngreat man, there occurs the following Note:\n\n\"Mrs Wesley thus describes her peculiar method (of teaching her children\nto read,) in a letter to her son John, (the founder of the Wesleyan\nMethodists.)\n\n\"None of them were taught to read till five years old, except Kezzy, in\nwhose case I was overruled; and she was more years in learning than any\nof the rest had been months. The way of teaching was this: The day\nbefore a child began to learn, the house was set in order, every one's\nwork appointed them, and a charge given that none should come into the\nroom from nine till twelve, or from two till five, which were our school\nhours. One day was allowed the child wherein to learn its letters, and\neach of them did in that time know all its letters, great and small,\nexcept Molly and Nancy, who were a day and a half before they knew them\nperfectly, for which I then thought them very dull; but the reason why I\nthought them so, was because the rest learned them so readily; and your\nbrother Samuel, who was the first child I ever taught, learnt the\nalphabet in a few hours. He was five years old the 10th of February; the\nnext day he began to learn; and as soon as he knew the letters, began at\nthe 1st chapter of Genesis. He was taught to spell the 1st verse, then\nto read it over and over till he could read it off hand without any\nhesitation;--so on to the second, &c. till he took ten verses to a\nlesson, which he quickly did. Easter fell low that year, and by\nWhitsuntide he could read a chapter very well; for he read continually,\nand had such a prodigious memory, that I cannot remember ever to have\ntold him the same word twice. What was yet stranger, any word he had\nlearnt in his lesson, he knew wherever he saw it, either in his Bible or\nany other book, by which means he learnt very soon to read an English\nauthor well.\n\n\"The same method was observed with them all. As soon as they knew the\nletters, they were first put to spell and read one line, then a verse,\nnever leaving till perfect in their lesson, were it shorter or longer.\nSo one or other continued reading at school, time about, without any\nintermission; and before we left school, each child read what he had\nlearned that morning, and ere we parted in the afternoon, what he had\nlearned that day.\"--_Southey's Life of Wesley_, Note, p. 429.\n\nIn the above simple narrative, there is a distinct reference to the\nprinciples of \"Reiteration,\" and \"Individuation,\" and hence Mrs Wesley's\ngreat success.\n\n\nNote I, p. 162.--When the true nature of Education is better understood,\nit will be found that a child may have advanced far on its path by oral\ninstruction, before it be either necessary or desirable that he should\nbe compelled to read for himself. To assist the parent and teacher in\nthis preliminary part of their duty, the \"First Initiatory Catechism,\"\nor the \"First Steps\" to the Old and the New Testaments, with their\nrespective Keys, may be used with advantage,--they having been\nconstructed upon the principles here recommended. But the best Book _to\nbegin with_, will be the \"Groupings from Scripture,\" with its Key for\nthe use of monitors, or older children, who can by its means greatly\nassist the parent or teacher in the work. In making use of that little\nbook, the sentences are to be announced in whole or in parts to the\npupils one by one; and upon which they are to be thoroughly and\nextensively catechised. As for example, the first announcement may be\ngiven thus:--\"_God made the first man_,\" from which the following\nquestions may be formed--\"Who made the first man?\" \"Whom did God make?\"\n\"What man did God make?\" \"What did God do to the first man?\" The teacher\nor monitor ought then to add the additional fact, \"that God made the\nfirst man _of clay_,\" and catechise again upon the whole. After this is\nwell understood, he may complete the sentence, \"God made the first man\nof clay, _and called him Adam_.\" The child will then be able--not to\nrepeat the words only, for that is not the effect of this\nexercise,--but to communicate the ideas in his _own words_; which,\nhowever, will generally be found to be the very same as in the book.\nThis distinction is most important. When the whole section has been\ncompletely mastered, the lessons and their applications may also be\ntaught;--by all of which the mental faculties will soon become vigorous\nand lively, and the pupil will be well prepared for all the exercises to\nwhich he may afterwards be called.\n\n\nNote K, p. 151.--The art of catechising from any lesson or book, is a\nvery simple one when the principle is understood. It consists simply in\nselecting the most important words contained in the announcement, and\nforming a question upon each of them, in such a manner, as to require\nthat particular word from the pupil as the answer to the question raised\nupon it. For example, when the teacher has in four words announced the\nfact, that \"Jesus died for sinners;\" he will be able to form a question\nfrom the three chief ones, \"Jesus,\"--\"died,\" and \"sinners.\" These\nquestions will be, \"Who died?\"--\"What did Jesus do for sinners?\" and\n\"For whom did Jesus die?\" It is not necessary that the words should be\ntaken up in their order, which may be always left to the discretion of\nthe teacher. For the several parts of this principle, as employed upon\nclauses, or whole sentences or subjects, see next Note L.\n\n\nNote L, p. 185.--The Catechetical Exercise has for convenience been\ndivided into three kinds of exercises, called the \"Connecting Exercise,\"\nthe \"General Exercise,\" and the \"Verbal Exercise.\" The \"Connecting\nExercise,\" includes those comprehensive questions, which require the\npupil to go over perhaps a whole subject, or several sentences, to\ncomplete his answer; as if in teaching the Parable of the Sower, the\npupil were asked, \"What were the several kinds of ground on which the\nseed was sown?\" or, \"What is said of the seed sown by the way side?\" In\nanswering either of these questions he would have to combine many ideas,\nand the truths contained in several distinct clauses. This exercise is\nused commonly in revising several sections at a time after they have\nbeen taught.\n\nThe \"General Exercise,\" is used in all the advanced classes, sometimes\nin connection with the Verbal Exercise, and includes those questions\nchiefly which are formed upon clauses in the book or section taught. As,\nfor example, when the pupil is asked, \"What became of the seed sown by\nthe way side?\" or, \"What did the birds of the air do?\" he has to give\none or more clauses, containing several ideas, as his answer.\n\nThe \"Verbal Exercise\" has to do only with the words of the clauses, and\nthe single idea which the particular word is intended to convey; as when\nit is said, \"the birds of the air devoured it up;\" the questions, \"What\ndevoured the seed?\" \"What birds?\" \"What did the birds do?\" \"What did the\nbirds devour?\" refer chiefly to the words, and the single ideas which\nthey communicate.\n\nIt may be here remarked, however, that although these exercises are\ndivided in theory, they ought seldom to be altogether separated in\npractice. In using the Verbal Exercise with the younger classes, many\nquestions will be required which properly belong to the \"General;\" and\nin using the \"General Exercise\" with the advanced classes, neither the\n\"Connecting,\" nor the \"Verbal Exercise,\" ought to be altogether\nexcluded.\n\n\nNote M, p. 192.--In communicating knowledge to the young by means of the\nCatechetical Exercise, care ought to be taken that the truths or ideas\nbe communicated regularly, and not too many at a time. In making use of\nthe \"Groupings,\" or \"First Steps,\" the contents of one section ought to\nbe well understood, and all the circumstances to be made familiar,\nbefore the child passes to another. To do otherwise is not to forward,\nbut to retard his advance in the attainment of knowledge. There ought\nalso to be frequent returns upon the sections formerly mastered, so that\nthe truths be more and more firmly fixed upon the memory. This will also\nbe accomplished by means of the lessons from the several moral truths\ntaught, and by their application to the circumstances of ordinary life.\n\nIt is also a matter of great practical importance, in teaching any\nsubject, that the teacher confine himself strictly to it, avoiding all\nkinds of \"Catechetical Wandering,\" by which the minds of his pupils will\nbe distracted and enfeebled if they _cannot_ follow him, and by which\ntheir attention will be powerfully drawn away from the lesson, if they\n_can_.--For example, if the subject to be taught be the \"Good\nSamaritan,\" nothing can be plainer than that the mind of the pupil ought\nto be concentrated upon the subject, till it be \"grouped,\" and fixed\nupon the mind and memory as one combined and moving scene, so that one\ncircumstance in the story will conjure up all the others.--This is\nNature's plan.--But if the teacher, at the very commencement, when the\nchild has read that \"a certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho,\"\nshall call his attention from the story itself, to ask where Jerusalem\nwas? What was Judea? Who dwelt there? Who was their progenitor? From\nwhat bondage were they saved? Who conducted them through the wilderness?\nWho brought them into Judea? requiring the whole history of the Jews,\ntheir captivity, and restoration; the effect is most pernicious, and is\nfatal to the great design intended by the teacher. It is destructive of\nthat habit of concentration of mind upon a particular subject, which is\nalways the accompaniment of genius; and which ought to be cultivated in\nthe young with the greatest assiduity and care. But this habit of\n\"Catechetical Wandering,\" does not stop here, for the teacher has yet\nanother word in this first sentence which admits of a similar treatment;\nand instead of returning to the lesson, he takes up the word \"Jericho,\"\nby means of which he follows a similar course; \"riding off\" from the\noriginal subject, and leaving the child bewildered and confused, to\ncommence again, to be again interrupted and distracted by other\nirrelevant questions. Many evils result from this practice; and the\ncause is obvious. For if the child has been taught these irrelevant\ntruths before, this is obviously not the time to introduce them, when\nhe is in the very act of _learning a new subject_;--and if he has not\nbeen taught them previously, the matter becomes worse; for by this\nattempt to teach a variety of new things at the same time, some\nimportant principles of Nature are still more violently\noutraged.--_After_ the subject has been taught, and the child is called\non to _revise_ his several lessons, then is the time to combine them,\nand to point out their various connections,--but not before.\n\n\nNote N, p. 195.--It will always be found advisable to teach the alphabet\nto children long before they begin to read; and while they are being\nverbally exercised on the \"Groupings from Scripture,\" and other books of\na similar kind. To do so at home by way of games, will be found easiest\nfor the parent, and most pleasant for the child. By having the small\nletters on four dice, (six on each,) and allowing the use of only one\ntill the six letters on its sides are familiar;--and not giving the\nthird, till those on the two first have been mastered; and the same with\nthe fourth,--will be found useful, provided they be only occasionally\nmade use of. A too frequent repetition of the _game_ will destroy its\neffect; and therefore, as there is sufficient time, it ought only to be\nallowed on proper, and perhaps on _great_ occasions. Other contrivances,\nbesides those given in the text, such as making the child guess at\nletters, drawing letters from a bag, and naming them, &c. will readily\noccur to ingenious parents or teachers. It should be observed, that as\nthis acquirement is needed but _once_ in the child's lifetime, a little\npains or trouble ought not to be grudged in forwarding it.\n\n\nNote O, p. 208.--In using the \"First Class Book on the Lesson System,\"\nthe teacher must take care that the letters and their sounds, or powers,\nbe perfectly familiar to the child before he begins to read. The first\nlesson, of course, is composed altogether of words new to the child,\neach of which he must be taught to _read_ by combining the powers of the\nletters composing it;--and he must never be allowed to pass on to the\nfollowing word, till all the previous ones can be correctly and readily\ndecyphered. Before beginning to the second, or succeeding lessons, the\nnew words occurring in it, (which are prefixed,) must be read and made\nfamiliar to him one by one, and explained if necessary. By this means he\nwill soon be able to _pick up the ideas_ in his lesson by even a first\nreading, which is the great end that the teacher ought to have in\nview.--The capital letters need not be taught till the child comes to\nthem in his reading.--The lessons being consecutive, none must be\nomitted.\n\n\nNote P, p. 220.--The nature of successive \"Steps\" will be better\nunderstood by using, than by describing them. The following, however,\nwill give some idea of their design; keeping in mind, that the contents\nof the several branches must be written out in such a manner as to\nconvey the ideas in the common way. The following is a rude sketch of\nwhat the History of Joseph would be like, if the ideas under each branch\nof the analysis were fairly written out as First, Second, and Third\nSteps.\n\nANALYTICAL TABLE.\n\nSHEWING THE NATURE OF SUCCESSIVE STEPS IN EDUCATION.\n\nTHE HISTORY OF JOSEPH.\n\n -------------+-----------------+-------------------------------------------\n Substance of | Substance of a  |\n a First Step.| Second Step.    |         Substance of a Third Step.\n -------------+-----------------+-------------------------------------------\n              {Joseph's father  {Jacob loved Joseph best of his family; who\n Joseph       {was partial to   {Brought him the evil reports of them; and\n was beloved  {him.             {Got a coat of many colours.\n by his       {\n father,      {And he dreamed   {Joseph told his dream of the sheaves,\n and          {that he was      {And his brothers hated him the more.\n hated        {to be great.     {He told his dream of the sun and stars;\n by his       {                 {And his father observed the saying.\n brothers;    {\n              {These things     {His brothers would not speak peaceably to\n              {made the family  {Him; and envied and hated him; and\n              {uneasy.          {His father expostulated with him.\n\n                                {Joseph sought his brothers at Dothan;\n              {Joseph was       {Was cast into a pit, and afterwards\n              {cruelly used by  {Sold for a slave.\n              {his brothers,    {His brothers concealed the crime, and\n              {                 {His father mourned him as dead.\n And although {\n he was       {                 {Joseph was carried to Egypt, and\n long in      {And was made     {Was a slave in Potiphar's house;\n affliction,  {a slave to       {Where he was industrious and faithful;\n              {Potiphar;        {And was tempted by his mistress.\n              {\n              {                 {Joseph was unjustly put into confinement.\n              {Who unjustly     {He was useful in prison, where\n              {cast him into    {A butler and baker were confined.\n              {prison.          {Joseph interpreted their dreams; but was\n                                {Left in prison by the butler forgetting\n                                {him.\n\n              {                 {Pharoah was displeased with the magicians.\n              {He was brought   {The butler told him of Joseph;\n              {out to Pharoah,  {And Joseph interpreted his dreams,\n              {                 {And was advanced to authority.\n              {\n              {                 {Joseph married and was made next to\n              {And made ruler   {Pharoah. He collected corn for seven\n              {over all Egypt;  {Years; Distributed it to all nations; and\n He rose      {                 {Sold it for the cattle and lands of Egypt.\n at last      {\n to great     {                 {Joseph's brothers came to Egypt for food;\n prosperity.  {During which     {And he spake roughly to them.\n              {time he behaved  {He detained Simeon;\n              {with great       {Brought and entertained Benjamin;\n              {prudence to his  {And hid his cup in Benjamin's sack.\n              {brothers;        {He then made himself known to his brothers.\n              {\n              {                 {Joseph brought his father and family to\n              {And kindly       {Egypt. He settled, supported, and honoured\n              {took care of the {Them. He buried his father,\n              {whole family.    {And left several charges with his brothers.\n\n\nNote Q, p. 225.--In giving a specimen of this mode of illustrating a\nconnected subject, we may only premise, that the method, as a branch of\nEducation, requires that all the general heads should be perceived\nfirst, before any of them is sub-divided. For example, Paul's sermon at\nAntioch, (Acts xiii.) must be perceived by the pupil in its great\noutline, or general heads, before he be called on to separate these into\ntheir several particulars. These heads as given in the Analysis, (Help\nto Acts, vol. I. p. 187,) are to the following purport:\n\n\"The design of Paul in this discourse appears to be,\n\n I. To conciliate the Jews.\n\n II. To prove that the Messiah had already come, and that Jesus\n was that Messiah.\n\n III. To remove certain objections against Jesus being the\n Messiah.\n\n IV. To establish the claims of Jesus as the Messiah; and,\n\n V. To press his salvation upon their notice and acceptance.\"\n\nWhen these general divisions, or heads, are understood, either by\nreading the respective verses which they occupy, or by the oral\nillustration of the teacher, each of them may then be taken separately,\nand sub-divided into its parts. For example, the first head, which in\nthe analysis is, \"_First_, Paul endeavours to conciliate the Jews by\ngiving a brief outline of their history, till the days of David, to whom\nthe Messiah was specially promised,\" ver. 17-23. This first of the above\nfive heads, is separable into the following particulars. \"1. The\ncondition of the Jews in, and their deliverance from, Egypt;--2. Their\nhistory in the wilderness;--3. The destruction of their enemies, and\ntheir settlement in Canaan;--4. Of the Judges till the time of\nSamuel;--5. The origin of the kingly authority in Israel;--and 6. The\nhistory of their two first kings.\" These again may be sub-divided into\ntheir several parts, of which the last will form a good example. It\nappears in the Analysis in the following form:\n\n VI. History of their two first kings.\n   i. Of Saul, and the time of his reign, ver. 21.\n   ii. Of David, and his character.\n     1. Saul was removed to make room for David, ver. 22.\n     2. David was chosen by God to be their king, ver. 22.\n     3. An account of David's character, and God's dealing with him.\n        [1.] God's testimony concerning David.\n          (1.) What David was, ver. 22.\n          (2.) What David was to do, ver. 22.\n        [2.] God's promise to David.\n          (1.) A Saviour was to be raised up for Israel, ver. 23.\n          (2.) This Saviour was to be of David's seed, ver. 23.\n\n\nNote R, p. 314.--There is not perhaps a subject in the whole range of\nhuman investigation that is so much misunderstood in practice, as a\nperson's own happiness. Whatever causes uneasiness, or distress, or\nanxiety of mind, destroys happiness;--which shews that it is this\npleasure, or delight itself,--this exercise of the heart, that we are\nseeking, and not the money, or the applause, or the sensual indulgences,\nwhich sometimes procure it. The heart of man has been made for something\nhigher and more noble than these grovelling objects of sense and time.\nHistory and experience shew, that it can never be satisfied with any\nfinite good; and especially, the possession of all earthly enjoyments\nonly leaves the void more conspicuous and more painful. The whole world,\nif it were attained, would but more powerfully illustrate its own\npoverty; for even Alexander weeps because there are no more worlds to\nconquer. Scripture declares, and Nature, so far as we can trace her,\nconfirms it, that man--and man alone--was _made after the image of\nGod_,--and therefore nothing short of God himself can ever satisfy\n_him_. Heaven itself would be inadequate to fill the soul, or to allay\nthe cravings of such a being. The fellowship and love of the Almighty,\nand that _alone_, by the very constitution of our nature, can fill and\nsatisfy the boundless desires of the human heart. They who stop short of\nthis, can never be satisfied; while they who place their happiness on\nHIM, will always be full, because he alone is infinite. The\nlove of God, and the desire for his glory then, are the only true\nfoundation of human happiness. And hence it is, that the perfection of\nenjoyment, and the whole sum of duty, meet in this one point,--THE\nLOVE OF GOD.\n\n\nNote S, p. 318.--The writer is aware that, in doing justice to this\ndepartment of a child's education, it is impossible to avoid the charge\nof \"enthusiasm,\" perhaps \"illiberality,\" or \"fanaticism.\" In what we\nhave urged in the preceding pages, we have endeavoured calmly to state\nand illustrate simple facts,--plain indications of Nature,--and to draw\nthe obvious deductions which they suggest. We intend to follow precisely\nthe same course here, although quite aware that we are much more liable\nto be misunderstood, or misrepresented. We shall at least endeavour\ncalmly to put what we have to say upon a true philosophical basis.\n\nWe all admire what is termed \"Roman Greatness,\"--that self-esteem that\nwould not allow the possessor to degrade himself, even in his own\nestimation, by indulging in any thing that was mean, or disreputable, or\ncontrary to the unchangeable rule of right. Cato's probity, who chose to\ndie rather than appear to connive at selfishness; and Brutus's love of\njustice, who could, with a noble heroism, and without faltering, doom\neven his own sons to death in the midst of the entreaties of his friends\nfor their pardon, and the concurrence of the people;--are but two out of\nnumberless instances from ancient history. Now we ask, if we admire, and\napprove of men being so jealous of _their_ honour, is it to be imagined\nthat the God who made them, and who implanted those high moral\nsentiments in their breasts, should be less jealous of _his_?--Every one\nwill acknowledge that he is infinitely more so.--And it is in accordance\nwith this true philosophical sentiment, that we come to the conclusion,\nthat to teach religion,--that is, to teach the character of God, and the\nduty we owe him,--without what is called the \"peculiar doctrines\" of\nChristianity, is to lower the character of the Almighty, and to impugn\nhis holiness, his faithfulness, his justice, and even his\ngoodness;--things under the imputation of which even a high-minded Roman\nwould have felt himself degraded and insulted.\n\nIn teaching Religion and Morality to the young, therefore, the pupil\nmust know, that God is too holy to look upon sin, or to connive at\nit;--too just to permit the very least transgression to pass with\nimpunity;--too faithful to allow his intimations, either in Nature, or\nin Providence, or in Scripture, ever to fail, or to be called in\nquestion, without danger;--and too good to risk the happiness of his\nholy creatures, by allowing them to suppose it even _possible_ that they\ncan ever indulge in sin, and yet escape misery. Where a knowledge of\nthese attributes of Deity is _wanting_, his character must appear\ngrievously defective; but wherever they are _denied_, it is most\nblasphemously dishonoured.--Hence the importance of even a child knowing\nhow it is that \"God can be just, while he justifies the ungodly.\"\n\nAll these perfections, with the additional revelation of his mercy and\ngrace, are exhibited, and greatly magnified and honoured, by the\nChristian scheme; and it is to the simplicity of this, as the foundation\nof the child's education, that we wish at present to direct the\nattention of the parent and teacher.\n\nA child may be taught to know that God hates sin, and that he must, as a\njust God, punish even the least transgression. There is no difficulty in\nunderstanding this simple truth. And it may be made equally clear, that\nman must have suffered for himself, and that for ever, if God had not\nsent his Son Jesus Christ to endure in their place the punishment which\nthe inflexible nature of his justice required. To believe that God will\npardon sin _without_ such an atonement, is, as we have shewn, to sully\nthe character of God; while to believe it, and to act upon the belief,\nis at once the highest honour we can pay to his perfections, and becomes\nthe strongest possible stimulant to a grateful heart to avoid sin, and\nto strive to love and to obey Him. This accordingly is the sum of\nChristianity, when divested of its technicalities; and this is the\nfoundation,--and the only proper foundation, upon which to rear either\nmorality or religion. But it _does_ form a solid and ample foundation\nfor that purpose. And there is perhaps no Christian of any sect who will\ndeny, that either child or adult, who simply depends for pardon and\nacceptance with a holy God, on the substitution of the Saviour, and who,\nin evidence of his sincerity, strives to hate and avoid sin, and to love\nand obey God, is not in a safe state.\n\nIn teaching these simple fundamental truths to the young, the parent or\nteacher will find the \"Shorter Confession of Faith,\" of great use. Its\n\"First Step\" ought to be taught first; and the second must on no account\nbe proceeded with, till the truths in the first have become familiar.\nThe same rule ought also to be adopted with the second, before passing\nto the third. The \"First Initiatory Catechism\" has also been found of\ngreat benefit to the young; and which is very easily and successfully\ntaught by means of its Key.\n\nThe foundation being thus laid, the great object of the teacher then is\nto train the child to duty;--teaching, in a familiar way, what _conduct_\nought to be avoided, and what pursued,--what is displeasing to God, and\nwhat he delights in. This can only be done, or at least is best done, by\ndrawing lessons from Scripture. The very commandment, \"Thou shalt not\nsteal,\" is dealt with by Nature in this way; for when we examine the\noperation of the mind, when acting even upon the direct precept, we find\nthat it assumes the form of a lesson, which in that case is only an echo\nof the command. Scripture example and narrative, however, are always\npreferable with children; and perhaps the best method of initiating them\ninto the ability to perceive and draw lessons generally, will be to\nbegin and carry them forward by means of the \"Progressive Exercises\" at\nthe end of the First Initiatory Catechism. Very young children are able\nto _commence_ this important exercise; and the information and\ndirections given in the Key will enable any monitor to carry them\nforward.\n\nThe application of the lessons ought to be the principal concern of the\nteacher. On this much of their utility depends, and of which the\nfollowing will afford a sufficient example.\n\nIn the 5th line of the \"Progressive Exercises,\" above referred to, the\nannouncement is simply that \"Rebekah was obliging,\"--from which the\nchild will readily enough draw the lesson, that \"we also should be\nobliging.\" But to _apply_ this lesson, the teacher is to suppose a\ncorresponding case, and to ask the child how it ought to behave on that\noccasion. For example, he may ask, \"If a companion wanted a sight of\nyour book, what should you do?\" \"Lend it to him.\"--\"From what do you get\nthat lesson?\" \"From Rebekah being obliging.\"--\"If you saw your companion\ndrop his ball, or his marble, without perceiving it, what should you\ndo?\" \"Pick it up and give it to him.\"--\"How do you know that you ought\nto do that?\" \"From God giving Rebekah as our example, who was obliging.\"\n\nThe field which here opens up for the ingenuity of the teacher for the\nmoral improvement of the young is almost boundless.\n\n\nNote T, p. 318.--The method which both Nature and experience have\npointed out, as the best for giving a practical knowledge of the\nprinciples of Natural Philosophy to children, is to state and explain\nsome general principle, such as, that \"Soft and porous bodies are bad\nconductors (of heat;\") and then set them to think, by asking what\nspecial lessons that general truth teaches them. This leads the pupil to\na train of thought, which will at all events prepare him for the proper\nlessons when suggested by the teacher, and which will enable him at once\nto perceive why his mother has to make use of a cloth when using the\nsmoothing iron; why a metal tea-pot must have a wooden handle;--why soft\nclothing preserves the heat of his body, and keeps him warm;--and why\nthe poker by the fire gets heated throughout, while a piece of wood, the\nsame length and in the same spot, remains comparatively cool.\n\nTo teach the phenomena of Nature, out of their mutual relations to the\ngeneral principle, would be both laborious and evanescent, because of\nthe want of the great connecting link, afforded by the analytical method\nhere supposed. It was by the above means that the children, in the\nexperiment in Aberdeen, and more especially those in that at Newry,\nappeared to the examinators to be inexhaustible; they having, during a\nspace of time unprecedentedly short, got hold of principles which\nenabled them, without any great stretch of memory, and by the\nassociation of ideas, to account for hundreds of familiar objects and\ncircumstances, the nature and working of which they had never perhaps\nthought of before.\n\nThe application of the lessons in these exercises is equally necessary,\nand equally beneficial. It may be _directly_ from some of the lessons\ndrawn, such as, \"Why is it inconvenient to handle hot irons?\" \"Because\nhard bodies readily conduct heat.\" Or it may be varied by asking the\nreason of a phenomenon not formerly perceived;--such as, \"Why does the\nfire scorch the foot when it is without a stocking, and not when we have\na stocking on?\" \"Because soft bodies, such as the stocking, do not\nreadily conduct heat.\" These are sufficient as specimens of the mode of\nconducting classes upon these principles; the \"Steps,\" and their \"Keys,\"\nconstructed for the purpose, will assist both teacher and pupil in their\nproper working.\n\n\nNote U, p. 320.--In teaching children to read, two things are to be\nspecially observed.--_First_, that the child shall know that the letters\nin a syllable are used merely as the signs of sound, by the combination\nof which he is to get a _hint_ only of the sound of the whole word. This\nwill very soon enable him to teach himself.--The _second_ is, that the\nchild shall know that his reading is only another way of getting at\ntruth by words _seen_, instead of words _heard_. This will make him\nsearch for the ideas, even while learning to read; and the habit being\nformed, he will never afterwards be satisfied without understanding all\nthat he reads.\n\nThe letters of the Alphabet, with their powers, having been made\nfamiliar, the \"First Class Book\" may be put into the pupil's hand, and\nthe first word taught him by the combination of the three\nletters,--\"Bob.\" Shew him how the letters pronounced shortly, and\nrapidly one after another, _form the word_. He will then be able to\n_read_ this word wherever he finds it. The word \"has,\" is to be taught\nin the same way, and then the word \"dog.\" He must then be asked, \"Who\nhas a dog?\" and \"What has Bob?\" till he understands that these three\nwords convey an idea. The second and succeeding lines are to be taught\nthe same way;--the teacher making him read the words in different parts\n_out of their order_, to take care that he does not repeat by rote.\n\nAt every new lesson he must learn to read the words which precede it,\nand to read them _well_ before beginning. The great design of his\nreading being to collect the ideas conveyed by the words, his doing so\nis greatly facilitated by his learning to read the words before\nbeginning to the lesson. It is only necessary to remark, that the\nhomely nature of the lessons tends greatly to produce the effect here\ndesigned, and which would not perhaps be so successfully accomplished at\nthis stage in any other way.\n\nChildren may be taught to _write_ almost as soon as they can read a few\nof their lessons. Care being taken that they hold the pen properly, they\nwill soon learn to form the letters as an amusement;--and when these are\nknown, they will soon be able to combine them into words. When they\nbegin to write sentences, it ought to be from their own minds, or\nmemories, but not from copies. Writing is merely an imitation of Nature\nin her operation of conveying ideas by speech; and the nearer the\nimitation can be made to correspond with the original, the more perfect\nwill it be. Speech is intended solely for the communication of our\nideas;--and so should writing. We teach children words and the names of\nthings, but we never teach them to express their own thoughts, by\nrehearsing after us either long or short speeches of our own. Neither\ncan we so readily teach children to express their own thoughts by\nwriting, if we attempt to do it by making them copy words which others\nhave thought for them, and the ideas of which they themselves perhaps do\nnot perceive. Copy-lines are a great hinderance to the young; and even\nfor teaching the correct and elegant formation of the letters they do\nnot appear to be always necessary.\n\n\nNote V, p. 320.--Arithmetic, and numerical calculations of every kind,\nare wrought by what have been termed \"the four simple Rules,\" viz.\nAddition, Subtraction, Multiplication, and Division. They who are expert\nand accurate in working _these_, have only to learn the several rules by\nwhich they are applied to all the varied purposes of life, to be perfect\narithmeticians.\n\nBut when the working of these four rules is analysed, we find that, with\nthe exception of the multiplication table, the whole four are merely\ndifferent applications of the rule of addition. Subtraction is wrought by\n_adding_ a supposed sum to the figure to be subtracted;--multiplication\n(with the exception mentioned above,) it wrought simply by _adding_ the\ncarryings and the aggregate of the several lines;--and division, with the\nsame exception, is also in practice wrought by a series of _additions_. If\nthen we shall suppose the multiplication table fully mastered, it follows,\nthat the person who has attained greatest expertness _in addition_, will\nbe the most expert in the working of any and every arithmetical exercise to\nwhich he may be called.\n\nBut _expertness_ in arithmetical calculations, is by no means so\nvaluable as _accuracy_;--and upon the above principle, it also follows,\nthat the person who acquires the greatest degree of accuracy and\nconfidence in working _addition_, must, of course, be most accurate in\nall his calculations. The importance of this principle will be much more\nprized by and bye than it can be at present;--we shall however shew here\nhow it may be taken advantage of.\n\nUpon the principle of Individuation, we have seen, that a child will\nlearn one thing much better and sooner _by itself_, than when it is\nmixed up with several others; and therefore we come to the conclusion,\nthat a child, when taught the practice of addition by itself, till he is\nfully master of it, both as respects rapidity and accuracy, has\nafterwards little more to do than to get a knowledge of rules. One\nmonth's systematic exercise in _this way_, will do more in forming a\ndesirable accountant for a desk, than a whole year's exercise otherwise.\nIn the one case, the pupil starts to the race without preparation, and\nwith all his natural impediments clinging to him, which he has to\ndisentangle and throw off one by one during the fatigues and turmoil of\nthe contest; while the other, on the contrary, delays his start till he\nhas deliberately searched them out and cast them aside, and thus\nprepared himself for the course. He then starts vigorous and light, to\noutstrip his labouring and lumbering competitors, not only in this, but\nin every after trial of strength and skill of a similar kind.\n\nTo follow out this plan with success, the \"Arithmetic Rod,\" containing\nthree sides, has been provided. On one side there is a single line of\nfigures, on the second two, and on the third three. These lines of\nfigures for a school, ought to be painted on three boards sufficiently\nlarge for all to see them distinctly. The first line is to be mastered\nperfectly, before the second or the third is to be taught.\n\nThe way to begin with the first line, is to make the pupil mentally add\na certain sum to each figure on the board, say two, or seven, or\nfourteen, or any other sum, beginning always with a small one. He is\nbesides to add the carryings also to each figure, and to write down the\nsum as he goes on. The beginner may be exercised with the sum of two, or\neven one, and have the sum increased, as he acquires a knowledge of the\nmethod. These sums, as the pupils advance, may be extended to any\namount. The Key will shew, in every case, whether the exercise has been\naccurately performed; and by marking the time in any particular case,\nthe teacher can measure exactly, every week or month, the advance of\neach pupil.\n\nThe mental advantages of this exercise are numerous. Among other things\nit trains to a great command of the mind; and brings into exercise an\nimportant principle formerly illustrated, (Part III. ch. xi. p. 288,) by\nwhich the pupil acquires the ability to think one thing, and to do\nanother.\n\nWhen the pupil is sufficiently expert at one line of figures, he should\nbe exercised upon the B side of the rod, containing the double line. He\nis to practise adding each pair of the figures at a glance,--till he can\nrun them over without difficulty, as if they were single figures. He is\nthen to add a sum to _them_, as he did on the single line, till he can\nadd the sum and the double figure as readily as he did one. The C side\nof the rod is to be treated in the same way;--first by adding all the\nthree figures at a glance, and naming the sum of each, till he can do it\nas readily as if there was but one; and then he is to add any special\nsum to them as before.\n\n\nNote W, p. 321.--Children generally delight in music, and seldom weary\nin its exercise. It forms therefore, when judiciously managed, a most\nuseful exercise in a school for the purposes of relaxation and variety,\nand for invigorating their minds after a lengthened engagement in drier\nstudies. It thus not only becomes desirable to teach music in the\nseminary as a branch of education for after life, but for the purposes\nof present expediency.\n\nThat music may be taught to the young in a manner much more simple than\nit has yet generally been done, is now matter of experience. The notes\nare only _seven_, and these are each as precise and definite in\nproportion to the key note as any letter in the alphabet. There is\nobviously no difficulty in teaching a child seven figures,--and there is\nin reality as little difficulty in teaching him seven notes; so that,\nhaving the key note, he will, in reading a tune, sound each in its order\nwhen presented to him, as readily and accurately as he would read so\nmany figures.\n\nTo render this exercise more simple to children, and more convenient in\na school, the notes have been represented by figures, 1 being the key\nnote. The other notes rise in the common gradation from 1 to 8, which is\nthe key note in alt. By this means, the teacher by writing on the common\nblack board a few figures, gives the children the tune, which a very\nlittle practice enables them to read as readily as they would the words\nto which they adapt it.\n\nFor particulars as to time, &c. see \"Shorter Catechism Hymn Book,\" p. 23\nand 24.\n\n\nNote X, p. 264.--There is perhaps no department in the family economy\nwhich ought to be so cautiously filled up as the _nursery maid_; and yet\nwe generally find, that the duties of this office are frequently handed\nover to any thoughtless giddy girl, whose appearance is \"shewy,\"\nalthough she be without education, without experience, and often without\nprinciple. Why there has been as yet no regular seminary for the\ntraining of young persons of good principles, for the responsible duties\nof the nursery, is not a little remarkable. Not one of the many valuable\ninstitutions for particular classes is so much wanted, and which, if\nproperly conducted, would be a greater blessing to families and to\nsociety generally. One of the most beautiful features in our infant\nschools is the circumstance, that they have tended greatly to lessen\nthis evil, and in some measure to supply the desideratum.\n\n\nNote Y, p. 268.--The question of rewards and punishments in a public\nschool is a difficult one; and although there has of late been an\nobvious improvement in this respect, we are afraid that the principles\nwhich ought to regulate them are not yet very clearly understood. Hence\nthe contrariety of sentiments on the subject, with little more than mere\n_opinions_ offered to support them. The following few crude thoughts on\nthe subject, may perhaps lead others better qualified to consider it\nmore extensively.\n\nWe can all readily enough distinguish the difference between _physical_\nefforts, _intellectual_ efforts, and _moral_ efforts; but we are very\nready to confound the rewards which, we think, Nature has pointed out\nas most appropriate to each. For physical exertions, such as the race,\nor the wrestling match, physical returns appear natural and appropriate\nenough; and therefore, money, decorations, or other physical honours,\nare the ordinary rewards for excelling in any of them. But to desire\nmoney as a return for intellectual excellence, appears to every well\nconstituted mind as sordid and unseemly. The reward for the exertion of\nintellect must partake of intellectual dignity; and hence it is, that\nesteem, applause, or admiration,--the incense of the _mind_,--appears to\nbe the natural return for such exertions. In proof of this, we may\ninstance the sensible degradation which is felt, when the reward\nproffered for mental efforts, even in children, takes the form of food,\nor clothing, or money;--and the kind of estimation in which students\nhold their medals, books, and other prizes, acquired at their several\nseminaries. These are never valued for their intrinsic worth, but only\nas permanent signs of _approbation_, or _admiration_,--feelings which\nare purely intellectual in their character, and perfectly distinct from\nthe grossness of physical rewards on the one hand, and the\naffections--the moral incense of the _heart_,--on the other.\n\nAll this appears pretty evident; and it obviously leads us to the next\nand concluding step, which is, that the natural and proper reward for\n_moral_ actions, ought to partake of the moral character. It is the love\nand affection of those we serve, or who are called on to estimate, or to\ndecide on the character of our actions,--that is the proper, the\nnatural, the desirable return. A little consideration, we think, will\nshew us, that this, as a general principle, is really correct; and that\napplause, admiration, or wonder, when they are afforded without\n_affection_, do not satisfy the heart, that in the exercise of love,\nseeks love in return.--It is the friendship, the fellowship, the\naffections of those whom we aim at pleasing, that alone can approve\nitself to our minds as the appropriate returns for moral actions.\n\n\nNote Z, p. 299.--The following are a few specimens of the paraphrastic\nexercise, as employed upon different subjects:--\n\n\"But Martha was [_cumbered_] [_about much serving_,] and came to\n[_him_,] and said, Lord, [_dost thou not care_] that my sister hath left\nme to [_serve_] alone? [_bid_] her, therefore, that she [_help_] me.\"\n\nThis verse is paraphrased in the Help to Luke by substituting the\nexplanation of the words printed in Italics, and within brackets, for\nthe words themselves, in the following manner:\n\n\"_But Martha was_ [much incommoded and harassed] [to get every thing in\norder for the temporal accommodation of Jesus and his disciples,] _and\ncame to_ [Jesus,] _and said, Lord_, [art thou indifferent or careless\nabout the circumstance] _that my sister hath left me to_ [prepare the\nvictuals, and do all the work of the house] _alone_? [Command] _her,\ntherefore, that she_ [leave her seat at thy feet, and come to assist]\n_me_.\"\n\n\"Every thing [_in nature_] [_shews forth_] God's [_wisdom_,] [_power_,]\nand [_goodness_;] but the Bible, which is the [_word of God_,] and which\nwas [_written_] by [_holy_] men at [_different times_,] under [_his\ndirection_,] has most [_clearly_] [_revealed_] what [_God is_,] what he\nhas done and what [_we should do_.\"]\n\nThis is paraphrased in the Key to the Second Initiatory Catechism thus:\n\n\"_Every thing_ [that has been made in the world and sky] [gives clear\nand constant proof of] _God's_ [chusing the best ends, and accomplishing\nthese by the best means,] [his being able to do any thing, and every\nthing,] _and_ [never ceasing to care for, and to promote the happiness\nof all his creatures;]--_but the Bible,--which is the_ [only declaration\nof God's mind and will to man,] _and which was_ [composed, and put, with\npen and ink, upon parchment or paper,] _by_ [good and pious] _men, at_\n[dates long distant from each other,] _under_ [the care of God, who told\nthem what they were to write,]--_has most_ [distinctly and plainly,]\n[brought into view, and let us know,] _what_ [God's character and\nperfections are,] _what he has done, and what_ [is our duty, both to God\nand man.\"]\n\n\"The [_word of God_,] which is contained in the [_Scriptures_] of the\nOld and New Testament, is the only [_rule_] to [_direct us_] how we may\nglorify and enjoy him.\"\n\nThis is paraphrased in the Key to the Shorter Catechism in the following\nmanner:\n\n\"_The_ [revelation of God's will,] _which is contained in the_\n[writings] _of the Old and New Testament, is the only_ [guide] _to_\n[give us information] _how we may glorify and enjoy him_.\"\n\n\nNote A a, p. 321.--Nature has obviously intended that all men should be\nboth physically and mentally employed; and that, for the proper\nmaintenance of health, the time occupied by _physical_ exercise, ought\nin general to exceed that which is employed exclusively in study. The\ncombination of both in ordinary cases, however, is still more plainly\nindicated. In the circumstances of the young, physical exercise is\npeculiarly necessary. The writer looks forward with confidence to a\ntime, when to every seminary of eminence will be attached a sufficient\nplot of ground for gardening and agricultural purposes, that the\nphysical energies of the pupils may not be allowed irregularly to run to\nwaste, as at present; but when they shall be systematically directed to\ninteresting, and at the same time to useful purposes. The hand-swing,\nalthough an excellent substitute, will never cope in interest, even to a\nchild, with the moderate use of the hoe, the rake, or the spade. Such a\nsystem will produce many and valuable advantages to the young.\nGardening, by postponing the results of labour, exciting hope, and by\nits daily advances, encouraging to perseverance, will tend to produce a\nmost beneficial moral effect; and will greatly assist the teacher in\nestablishing and strengthening some of those valuable checks upon the\nvolatility of the young mind, which are exceedingly necessary for the\nproper conduct of life, but which there is usually but small opportunity\nof cultivating in youth.\n\nBut even then, for the proper conducting of a school, there will, for\n_in-door exercise_, be something more required than has yet been\nprovided, both as to kind and degree. When we examine a number of\nchildren at play, we seldom find them sitting, or even standing for any\nlength of time, when they have space and opportunity to exercise their\nlimbs. The hand-motions of the infant schools, therefore, although\nexcellent so far as they go, do not go far enough; and even the marching\nof the children is obviously too monotonous, and not sufficiently\nlively, for throwing off the accumulated mass of animal spirits, which\nis so speedily formed in young persons while engaged at their lessons.\nIt was to supply this defect that the writer, a number of years ago,\nmade some experiments with a large class of children, and with complete\nsuccess. The exercise was founded on the singing and marching of the\ninfant schools, and consisted in what is known in certain seminaries, as\n\"Rights and Lefts.\" The children were taught to meet each other in bands\nof equal number, and by giving the right and left hand alternately to\nthose who came in the opposite direction, they undulated, as it were,\nthrough each others ranks, and passed on to their own music, till they\nmet again on the other side of the room, and proceeded as before. The\nexercise thus afforded to the upper and lower extremities of each child,\nthe expansion caused to the chest, and the play given to the muscles of\nthe back and body, are exceedingly beneficial; and the whole being\nregulated by their own song, gives healthy, and not excessive exercise\nto the lungs and the whole circulation.\n\nIt was also found, that this amusing employment for the young, was\ncapable of great variety. Instead of two bands meeting each other in\n_lines_ in opposite directions, and parting, to meet again at the other\nside of the room, they were formed into a circle, one-half moving in one\ndirection, and one-half moving in the opposite, by which means the\ncircle was never broken. It was also found, that one of these circles,\ncontaining six or eight children only, could move within the other when\nit contained a larger number, without those in the one interfering in\nthe least with those of the other; and the effect became still more\nimposing when _between_ these, and _without_ them, two other bands of\nchildren joined hands, united in the song, and moved round in opposite\ndirections.\n\nThese details may appear trifling to some; but experience will soon\nconvince practical men, that in education, as in Nature, the most simple\nmeans often produce the most powerful and the most beneficial results.\n\nTHE END.\n\n\n\n    +-----------------------------------------------------+\n    |               Transcriber's Note:                   |\n    |                                                     |\n    | Footnotes listed as a Note followed by a letter are |\n    | gathered together at the end of the book.           |\n    |                                                     |\n    | Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the        |\n    | original document has been preserved.               |\n    |                                                     |\n    | Typographical errors corrected in the text:         |\n    |                                                     |\n    | Page  20  he changed to be                          |\n    | Page  28  vallies changed to valleys                |\n    | Page  36  pullies changed to pulleys                |\n    | Page  38  bye changed to by                         |\n    | Page  45  recal changed to recall                   |\n    | Page  57  inconsistences changed to inconsistencies |\n    | Page  59  recal changed to recall                   |\n    | Page  61  he changed to be                          |\n    | Page  67  oppreseive changed to oppressive          |\n    | Page  68  word \"is\" added                           |\n    | Page  73  recals changed to recalls                 |\n    | Page  77  harrassed changed to harassed             |\n    | Page 103  missle changed to  missile                |\n    | Page 113  decrepid changed to decrepit              |\n    | Page 120  pronouned changed to pronounced           |\n    | Page 142  slighest changed to slightest             |\n    | Page 144  intance changed to instance               |\n    | Page 150  educa- changed to education               |\n    | Page 152  Jessus changed to Jesus                   |\n    | Page 166  fourteeen changed to fourteen             |\n    | Page 168  Pestalozzie's changed to Pestalozzi's     |\n    | Page 169  unnaccountable changed to  unaccountable  |\n    | Page 183  recal changed to recall                   |\n    | Page 192  missing word \"be\" supplied                |\n    | Page 195  indispensible changed to indispensable    |\n    | Page 197  exceeedingly changed to exceedingly       |\n    | Page 197  recal changed to recall                   |\n    | Page 210  comtemplation changed to contemplation    |\n    | Page 211  soffa changed to sofa                     |\n    | Page 234  than changed to then                      |\n    | Page 245  Terrestial changed to Terrestrial         |\n    | Page 277  forwarned changed to forewarned           |\n    | Page 280  aplication changed to application         |\n    | Page 283  speciment changed to specimen             |\n    | Page 302  faultering changed to faltering           |\n    | Page 326  Princiciples changed to Principles        |\n    | Page 333  desireable changed to desirable           |\n    | Page 339  faultering changed to faltering           |\n    | Page 340  ungodily changed to ungodly               |\n    +-----------------------------------------------------+","title":"A Practical Enquiry into the Philosophy of Education","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":115567}