... eben wo Begriffe fehlen,Da stellt ein Wort zur rechten Zeit sich ein.
... eben wo Begriffe fehlen,Da stellt ein Wort zur rechten Zeit sich ein.
... eben wo Begriffe fehlen,
Da stellt ein Wort zur rechten Zeit sich ein.
... just where meaning fails, a wordComes patly in to serve your turn.
... just where meaning fails, a wordComes patly in to serve your turn.
... just where meaning fails, a word
Comes patly in to serve your turn.
Against this danger Jacotot took special precautions. The pupil was to undergo an examination in everything connected with the lesson learnt, and the master’s share in the work was to convince himself, from the answers he received, that the pupil thoroughly grasped the meaning, as well as remembered the words, of the author. Still the six books of “Télémaque,” which Jacotot gave to be learnt by heart, was a very large dose, and he would have been more faithful to his own principles, says Joseph Payne, if he had given the first book only.
§ 15. There are three ways in which the model-book may be studied. 1st, it may be read through rapidly again and again, which was Ratke’s plan and Hamilton’s; or, 2nd, each lesson may be thoroughly mastered, read in various ways a dozen times at the least, which was Ascham’s plan; or, 3rd, the pupil may begin always at the beginning, and advance a little further each time, which was Jacotot’s plan.[182]This last, could not, of course, be carried very farThe repetitions, when the pupil had got on some way in the book, could not always be from the beginning; stillevery part was to be repeated so frequently thatnothing could be forgotten. Jacotot did not wish his pupils to learnsimply in order to forget, but to learn in order to remember for ever. “We are learned,” said he, “not so far as wehave learned, but only so far as we remember.” He seems, indeed, almost to ignore the fact that the act of learning serves other purposes than that of making learned, and to assert that to forget is the same as never to have learned, which is a palpable error. We necessarily forget much that passes through our minds, and yet its effect remains. All grown people have arrived at some opinions, convictions, knowledge, but they cannot call to mind every spot they trod on in the road thither. When we have read a great history, say, or travelled through a fresh country, we have gained more than the number of facts we happen to remember. The mind seems to have formed an acquaintance with that history or that country, which is something different from the mere acquisition of facts. Moreover, our interests, as well as our ideas, may long survive the memory of the facts which originally started them. We are told that one of the old judges, when a barrister objected to some dictum of his, put him down by the assertion, “Sir, I have forgotten more law than ever you read.” If he wished to make the amount forgotten a measure of the amount remembered, this was certainly fallacious, as the ratio between the two is not a constant quantity. But he may have meant that this extensive reading had left its result, and that he could see things from more points of view than the less travelled legal vision of his opponent. Thatpoweracquired by learning may also last longer than the knowledge of the thing learned is sufficiently obvious. So the advantages derived from having learnt a thing are not entirely lost when the thing itself is forgotten.[183]
§ 16. But the reflection by no means justifies the disgraceful waste of memory which goes on in most school-rooms.Much is learnt which, for want of the necessary repetition, will soon be lost again, besides much that would be valueless if remembered. The thing to aim at is not giving “useful knowledge,” but making the memory a store house of such facts as are good material for the other powers of the mind to work with; and that the facts may serve this purpose they must be such as the mind can thoroughly grasp and handle, and such as can be connected together. Toinstruct is instruere, “to put together in order, to build;” it is not cramming the memory with facts without connexion, and, as Herbert Spencer calls them,unorganisable. And yet a great deal of our children’s memory is wasted in storing facts of this kind, which can never form part of any organism. We do not teach them geography (earth knowledge, as the Germans call it), but the names of places. Our “history” is a similar, though disconnected study. We leave our children ignorant of the land, but insist on their getting up the “landmarks.” And, perhaps, from a latent perception of the uselessness of such work, neither teachers nor scholars ever think of these things as learnt to be remembered. They are indeed got up, as Schuppius says of the Logic of his day,in spem futuræ oblivionis. Latin grammar is gone through again and again, and a boy feels that the sooner he gets it into his head, the better it will be for him; but who expects that the lists of geographical and historical names which are learnt one half-year, will be remembered the next? I have seen it asserted, that when a boy leaves school, he has already forgotten nine-tenths of what he has been taught, and I dare say that estimate is quite within the mark.
§ 17. By adopting the principles of Jacotot, we avoid a great deal of this waste. We give some thorough knowledge, with which fresh knowledge may be connected. And it will then be found that perfect familiarity with a subject is something beyond the mere understanding it and being able, with difficulty, to reproduce what we have learned. By thus going over the same thing again and again, we acquire a thorough command over our knowledge; and the feeling perfectly at home, even within narrow borders, gives a consciousness of strength. An old adage tells us that the Jack-of-all-trades is master of none; but the master of one trade will have no difficulty in extending his insight and capacity beyond it. To use an illustration, which is of course an illustration merely, we should kindle knowledge in children, like fire in a grate. A stupid servant, with a small quantity of wood, spreads it over the whole grate. It blazes away, goes out, and is simply wasted. Another, who is wiser or more experienced, kindles the whole of the wood at one spot, and the fire, thus concentrated, extends in all directions. Similarly we should concentrate the beginnings of knowledge, and although we could not expect to make much show for a time, we might be sure that after a bit the fire would extend, almost of its own accord.[184]
§ 18. From Joseph Payne I take Jacotot’s directions for carrying out the rule, “II faut apprendre quelque chose, et y rapporter tout le reste.”
1.Learn—i.e., learn so as to know thoroughly, perfectly, immovably (imperturbablement), as well six months or twelvemonths hence, as now—something—something which fairly represents the subject to be acquired, which contains its essential characteristics. 2.Repeatthat “something” incessantly (sans cesse),i.e., every day, or very frequently, from the beginning, without any omission, so that no part may be forgotten. 3.Reflectupon the matter thus acquired, so as, by degrees, to make it a possession of the mind as well as of the memory, so that, being appreciated as a whole, and appreciated in its minutest parts, what is as yet unknown, may bereferred toit and interpreted by it. 4.Verify, or test, general remarks,e.g., grammatical rules, &c., made by others, by comparing them with the facts (i.e., the words and phraseology) which you have learnt yourself.
§ 19. In conclusion, I will give some account of the way in which reading, writing, and the mother-tongue were taught on the Jacototian system.
The teacher takes a book, say Edgeworth’s “Early Lessons,” points to the first word, and names it, “Frank.” The child looks at the word and also pronounces it. Then the teacher does the same with the first two words, “Frank and”; then with the three first, “Frank and Robert,” &c. When a line or so has been thus gone over, the teacher asks which word is Robert? What word is that (pointing to one)? “Find me the same word in this line” (pointing to another part of the book). When a sentence has been thus acquired, the words already known are analysed into syllables, and these syllables the child must pick out elsewhere.Finally, the same thing is done with letters. When the child can read a sentence, that sentence is put before him written in small-hand, and the child is required to copy it. When he has copied the first word, he is led, by the questions of the teacher, to see how it differs from the original, and then he tries again. The pupil must always correct himself, guided only by questions. This sentence must be worked at till the pupil can write it pretty well from memory. He then tries it in larger characters. By carrying out this plan, the children’s powers of observation and making comparisons are strengthened, and the arts of reading and writing are said to be very readily acquired.
§ 20. For the mother-tongue, a model book is chosen and thoroughly learned. Suppose “Rasselas” is selected. “The pupil learns by heart a sentence, or a few sentences, and to-morrow adds a few more, still repeating from the beginning. The teacher, after two or three lessons of learning and repeating, takes portions—any portion—of the matter, and submits it to the crucible of the pupil’s mind:—Who was Rasselas? Who was his father? What is the father of waters? Where does it begin its course? Where is Abyssinia? Where is Egypt? Where was Rasselas placed? What sort of a person was Rasselas? What is ‘credulity’? What are the ‘whispers of fancy,’ the ‘promises of youth,’ &c., &c.?”
A great variety of written exercises is soon joined with the learning by heart. Pieces must be written from memory, and the spelling, pointing, &c., corrected by the pupil himself from the book. The same piece must be written again and again, till there are no more mistakes to correct. “This,” said Joseph Payne, who had himself taught in this way, “is the best plan for spelling that has been devised.”Then the pupil may write an analysis, may define words, distinguish between synonyms, explain metaphors, imitate descriptions, write imaginary dialogues or correspondence between the characters, &c. Besides these, a great variety of grammatical exercises may be given, and the force of prefixes and affixes may be found out by the pupils themselves by collection and comparison. “The resources even of such a book as “Rasselas” will be found all but exhaustless, while the training which the mind undergoes in the process of thoroughly mastering it, the acts of analysis, comparison, induction, and deduction, performed so frequently as to become a sort of second nature, cannot but serve as an excellent preparation for the subsequent study of English literature” (Payne).
§ 21. We see, from these instances, how Jacotot sought to imitate the method by which young children and self-taught men teach themselves. All such proceed from objects to definitions, from facts to reflections and theories, from examples to rules, from particular observations to general principles. They pursue, in fact, however unconsciously, themethod of investigation, the advantages of which are thus set out in a passage from Burke’s treatise on the Sublime and Beautiful:—“I am convinced,” says he, “that the method of teaching which approaches most nearly to the method of investigation is incomparably the best; since, not content with serving up a few barren and lifeless truths, it leads to the stock on which they grew; it tends to set the reader [or learner] himself in the track of invention, and to direct him into those paths in which the author has made his own discoveries.” “For Jacotot, I think the claim may, without presumption, be maintained that he has, beyond all other teachers, succeeded in co-ordinating the methodof elementary teaching with the method of investigation” (Payne).
§ 22. The latter part of his life, which did not end till 1840, Jacotot spent in his native country—first at Valenciennes, and then at Paris. To the last he laboured indefatigably, and with a noble disinterestedness, for what he believed to be the “intellectual emancipation” of his fellow-creatures. For a time, his system made great way in France, but we now hear little of it. Jacotot has, however, lately found an advocate in M. Bernard Perez, who has written a book about him and also a very good article in Buisson’sDictionnaire.
§ 1. I once heard it said by a teacher of great ability that no one without practical acquaintance with the subject could write anything worth reading on Education. My own opinion differs very widely from this. I am not, indeed, prepared to agree with another authority, much given to paradox, that the actual work of education unfits a man for forming enlightened views about it, but I think that the outsider, coming fresh to the subject, and unencumbered by tradition and prejudice, may hit upon truths which the teacher, whose attention is too much engrossed with practical difficulties, would fail to perceive without assistance, and that, consequently, the theories of intelligent men, unconnected with the work of education, deserve our careful, and, if possible, our impartial consideration.
§ 2. One of the most important works of this kind which has lately appeared, is the treatise of Mr. Herbert Spencer. So eminent a writer has every claim to be listened to with respect, and in this book he speaks with more than his individual authority. The views he has very vigorouslypropounded are shared by a number of distinguished scientific men; and not a few of the unscientific believe that in them is shadowed forth the education of the future.
§ 3. It is perhaps to be regretted that Mr. Spencer has not kept the tone of one who investigates the truth in a subject of great difficulty, but lays about him right and left, after the manner of a spirited controversialist. This, no doubt, makes his book much more entertaining reading than such treatises usually are, but, on the other hand, it has the disadvantage of arousing the antagonism of those whom he would most wish to influence. When the man who has no practical acquaintance with education, lays down the lawex cathedrâ, garnished with sarcasms at all that is now going on, the schoolmaster, offended by the assumed tone of authority, sets himself to show where these theories would not work, instead of examining what basis of truth there is in them, and how far they should influence his own practice.
I shall proceed to examine Mr. Spencer’s proposals with all the impartiality I am master of.
§ 4. The great question, whether the teaching which gives the most valuable knowledge is the same as that which best disciplines the faculties of the mind, Mr. Spencer dismisses briefly. “It would be utterly contrary to the beautiful economy of nature,” he says, “if one kind of culture were needed for the gaining of information, and another kind were needed as a mental gymnastic.”[186]But it seems to me that different subjects must be used to train the faculties at different stages of development. The processes of science,which form the staple of education in Mr. Spencer’s system cannot be grasped by the intellect of a child. “The scientific discoverer does the work, and when it is done the schoolboy is called in to witness the result, to learn its chief features by heart, and to repeat them when called upon, just as he is called on to name the mothers of the patriarchs, or to give an account of the Eastern campaigns of Alexander the Great.”—(Pall Mall G.). This, however, affords but scanty training for the mind. We want to draw out the child’s interests, and to direct them to worthy objects. We want not only to teach him, but to enable and encourage him to teach himself; and, if following Mr. Spencer’s advice, we make him get up the species of plants, “which amount to some 320,000,” and the varied forms of animal life, which are “estimated at some 2,000,000,” we may, as Mr. Spencer tells us, have strengthened his memory as effectually as by teaching him languages; but the pupil will, perhaps have no great reason to rejoice over his escape from the horrors of the “As in Præsenti,” and “Propria quæ Maribus.” The consequences will be the same in both cases. We shall disgust the great majority of our scholars with the acquisition of knowledge, and with the use of the powers of their mind. Whether, therefore, we adopt or reject Mr. Spencer’s conclusion, that there is one sort of knowledge which is universally the most valuable, I think we must deny that there is one sort of knowledge which is universally and at every stage in education, the best adapted to develop the intellectual faculties. Mr. Spencer himself acknowledges this elsewhere. “There is,” says he, “a certain sequence in which the faculties spontaneously develop, and a certain kind of knowledge, which each requires during its development.” It is for us to ascertain this sequence, and supply this knowledge.
§ 5. Mr. Spencer discusses more fully “the relative value of knowledges,” and this is a subject which has hitherto not met with the attention it deserves. It is not sufficient for us to prove of any subject taught in our schools that the knowledge or the learning of it is valuable. We must also show that the knowledge or the learning of it is of at least as great value as that of anything else that might be taught in the same time. “Had we time to master all subjects we need not be particular. To quote the old song—
Could a man be secureThat his life would endure,As of old, for a thousand long years,What things he might know!What deeds he might do!And all without hurry or care!
Could a man be secureThat his life would endure,As of old, for a thousand long years,What things he might know!What deeds he might do!And all without hurry or care!
Could a man be secure
That his life would endure,
As of old, for a thousand long years,
What things he might know!
What deeds he might do!
And all without hurry or care!
But we that have but span-long lives must ever bear in mind our limited time for acquisition.”
§ 6. To test the value of the learning imparted in education we must look to the end of education. This Mr. Spencer defines as follows: “To prepare us for complete living is the function which education has to discharge, and the only rational mode of judging of an educational course is to judge in what degree it discharges such function.” For complete living we must know “in what way to treat the body; in what way to treat the mind; in what way to manage our affairs; in what way to bring up a family; in what way to behave as a citizen; in what way to utilise those sources of happiness which nature supplies—how to use all our faculties to the greatest advantage of ourselves and others.” There are a number of sciences, says Mr. Spencer, which throw light on these subjects. It should, therefore, be the business of education to impart these sciences.
But if there were (which is far from being the case) a well-defined and well-established science in each of these departments, those sciences would not be understandable by children, nor would any individual have time to master the whole of them, or even “a due proportion of each.” The utmost that could be attempted would be to give young people some knowledge of theresultsof such sciences and the rules derived from them. But to this Mr. Spencer would object that it would tend, like the learning of languages, “to increase the already undue respect for authority.”
§ 7. To consider Mr. Spencer’s divisions in detail, we come first to knowledge that leads to self-preservation.
“Happily, that all-important part of education which goes to secure direct self-preservation is, in part, already provided for. Too momentous to be left to our blundering, Nature takes it into her own hands.” But Mr. Spencer warns us against such thwartings of Nature as that by which “stupid schoolmistresses commonly prevent the girls in their charge from the spontaneous physical activities they would indulge in, and so render them comparatively incapable of taking care of themselves in circumstances of peril.”
§ 8. Indirect self-preservation, Mr. Spencer believes, may be much assisted by a knowledge of physiology. “Diseases are often contracted, our members are often injured, by causes which superior knowledge would avoid.” I believe these are not the only grounds on which the advocates of physiology urge its claim to be admitted into the curriculum; but these, if they can be established, are no doubt very important. Is it true, however, that doctors preserve their own life and health or that of their children by their knowledge of physiology? I think the matter isopen to dispute. Mr. Spencer does not. He says very truly that many a man would blush if convicted of ignorance about the pronunciation of Iphigenia, or about the labours of Hercules who, nevertheless, would not scruple to acknowledge that he had never heard of the Eustachian tubes, and could not tell the normal rate of pulsation. “So terribly,” adds Mr. Spencer, “in our education does the ornamental override the useful!” But this is begging the question. At present classics form part of the instruction given to every gentleman, and physiology does not. This is the simpler form of Mr. Spencer’s assertion about the labours of Hercules and the Eustachian tubes, and no one denies it. But we are not so well agreed on the comparative value of these subjects. In his Address at St. Andrews, J. S. Mill showed that he at least was not convinced of the uselessness of classics, and Mr. Spencer does not tell us how the knowledge of the normal state of pulsation is useful; how, to use his own test, it “influences action.” However, whether we admit the claims of physiology or not, we shall probably allow that there are certain physiological facts and rules of health, the knowledge of which would be of great practical value, and should therefore be imparted to everyone. Here the doctor should come to the schoolmaster’s assistance, and give him a manual from which to teach them.
§ 9. Next in order of importance, according to Mr. Spencer, comes the knowledge which aids indirect self-preservation by facilitating the gaining of a livelihood. Here Mr. Spencer thinks it necessary to prove to us that such sciences as mathematics and physics and biology underlie all the practical arts and business of life. No one would think of joining issue with him on this point; but the question still remains, what influence should this have on education?“Teach science,” says Mr. Spencer. “A grounding in science is of great importance, both because it prepares for all this [business of life], and because rational knowledge has an immense superiority over empirical knowledge.” Should we teach all sciences to everybody? This is clearly impossible. Should we, then, decide for each child what is to be his particular means of money-getting, and instruct him in those sciences which will be most useful in that business or profession? In other words, should we have a separate school for each calling? The only attempt of this kind which has been made is, I believe, the institution ofHandelschulen(commercial schools) in Germany. In them, youths of fifteen or sixteen enter for a course of two or three years’ instruction which aims exclusively at fitting them for commerce. But, in this case, their general education is already finished. With us, the lad commonly goes to work at the business itself quite as soon as he has the faculties for learning the sciences connected with it. If the school sends him to it with a love of knowledge, and with a mind well disciplined to acquire knowledge, this will be of more value to him than any special information.
§ 10. As Mr. Spencer is here considering science merely with reference to its importance in earning a livelihood, it is not beside the question to remark, that in a great number of instances, the knowledge of the science which underlies an operation confers no practical ability whatever. No one sees the better for understanding the structure of the eye and the undulatory theory of light. In swimming or rowing, a senior wrangler has no advantage over a man who is entirely ignorant about the laws of fluid pressure. As far as money-getting is concerned then, science will not be found to be universally serviceable. Mr. Spencer givesinstances indeed, where science would prevent very expensive blundering; but the true inference is, not that the blunderers should learn science, but that they should mind their own business, and take the opinion of scientific men about theirs. “Here is a mine,” says he, “in the sinking of which many shareholders ruined themselves, from not knowing that a certain fossil belonged to the old red sandstone, below which no coal is found.” Perhaps they were misled by the little knowledge which Pope tells us is a dangerous thing. If they had been entirely ignorant, they would surely have called in a professional geologist, whose opinion would have been more valuable than their own, even though geology had taken the place of classics in their schooling. “Daily are men induced to aid in carrying out inventions which a mere tyro in science could show to be futile.” But these are men whose function it would always be to lose money, not make it, whatever you might teach them.[187]I have great doubt, therefore, whether the learning of sciences will ever be found a ready way of making a fortune. But directly we get beyond the region of pounds, shillings, and pence, I agree most cordially with Mr. Spencer that a rational knowledge has an immense superiority over empirical knowledge. And, as a part of their education, boys should be taught to distinguish the one from the other, and to desire rational knowledge. Much might be done in this way by teaching, not all the sciences and nothing else, but the main principles of some one science, which would enable the more intelligent boys to understand and appreciate the value of “a rational explanation of phenomena.” I believe this additionto what was before a literary education has already been made in some of our leading schools, as Harrow, Rugby, and the City of London.[188]
§ 11. Next, Mr. Spencer would have instruction in the proper way of rearing offspring form a part of his curriculum. There can be no question of the importance of this knowledge, and all that Mr. Spencer says of the lamentable ignorance of parents is, unfortunately, no less undeniable. But could this knowledge be imparted early in life? Young people would naturally take but little interest in it. It is by parents, or at least by those who have some notion of the parental responsibility, that this knowledge should be sought. The best way in which we can teach the young will be so to bring them up that when they themselves have to rear children the remembrance of their own youth may be a guide and not a beacon to them. But more knowledge than this is necessary, and I differ from Mr. Spencer only as to the proper time for acquiring it.
§ 12. Next comes the knowledge which fits a man for the discharge of his functions as a citizen, a subject to which Dr. Arnold attached great importance at the time of the first Reform Bill, and which deserves our attention all themore in consequence of the second and third. But what knowledge are we to give for this purpose? One of the subjects which seem especially suitable is history. But history, as it is now written, is, according to Mr. Spencer, useless. “It does not illustrate the right principles of political action.” “The great mass of historical facts are facts from which no conclusions can be drawn—unorganisable facts, and, therefore, facts of no service in establishing principles of conduct, which is the chief use of facts. Read them if you like for amusement, but do not flatter yourself they are instructive.” About the right principles of political action we seem so completely at sea that, perhaps, the main thing we can do for the young is to point out to them the responsibilities which will hereafter devolve upon them, and the danger, both to the state and the individual, of just echoing the popular cry without the least reflection, according to our present usage. But history, as it is now written by great historians, may be of some use in training the young both to be citizens and men. “Reading about the fifteen decisive battles, or all the battles in history, would not make a man a more judicious voter at the next election,” says Mr. Spencer. But is this true? The knowledge of what has been done in other times, even by those whose coronation renders them so distasteful to Mr. Spencer, is knowledge which influences a man’s whole character, and may, therefore, affect particular acts, even when we are unable to trace the connexion. As it has been often said, the effect of reading history is, in some respects, the same as that of travelling. Anyone in Mr. Spencer’s vein might ask, “If a man has seen the Alps, of what use will that be to him in weighing out groceries?” Directly, none at all; but indirectly, much. The travelled man will not be sucha slave to the petty views and customs of his trade as the man who looks on his county town as the centre of the universe. The study of history, like travelling, widens the student’s mental vision, frees him to some extent from the bondage of the present, and prevents his mistaking conventionalities for laws of nature. It brings home to him, in all its force, the truth that “there are also people beyond the mountain” (Hinter dem Berge sind auch Leute), that there are higher interests in the world than his own business concerns, and nobler men than himself or the best of his acquaintance. It teaches him what men are capable of, and thus gives him juster views of his race. And to have all this truth worked into the mind contributes perhaps as largely to “complete living” as knowledge of the Eustachian tubes or of the normal rate of pulsation.[189]I think, therefore, that the works of great historians and biographers, which we already possess, may be usefully employed in education. It is difficult to estimate the value of history according to Mr. Spencer’s idea, as it has yet to be written; but I venture to predict that if boys, instead of reading about the history of nations in connection with their leading men, are required to study only “the progress of society,” the subject will at once lose all its interest for them; and,perhaps, many of the facts communicated will prove, after all, no less unorganisable than the fifteen decisive battles.
§ 13. Lastly, we come to that “remaining division of human life which includes the relaxations and amusements filling leisure hours.” Mr. Spencer assures us that he will yield to none in the value he attaches to æsthetic culture and its pleasures; but if he does not value the fine arts less, he values science more; and painting, music, and poetry would receive as little encouragement under his dictatorship as in the days of the Commonwealth. “As the fine arts and belles-lettres occupy the leisure part of life, so should they occupy the leisure part of education.” This language is rather obscure; but the only meaning I can attach to it is, that music, drawing, poetry, &c., may be taught if time can be found when all other knowledges are provided for. This reminds me of the author whose works are so valuable that they will be studied when Shakspeare is forgotten—but not before. Any one of the sciences which Mr. Spencer considers so necessary might employ a lifetime. Where then shall we look for the leisure part of education when education includes them all?[190]
§ 14. But, if adopting Mr. Spencer’s own measure, we estimate the value of knowledge by its influence on action, we shall probably rank “accomplishments” much higher than they have hitherto been placed in the schemes of educationists. Knowledge and skill connected with the business of life, are of necessity acquired in the discharge of business. But the knowledge and skill which make our leisure valuable to ourselves and a source of pleasure to others, can seldom be gained after the work of life has begun. And yet every day a man may benefit by possessing such an ability, or may suffer from the want of it. One whose eyesight has been trained by drawing and painting finds objects of interest all around him, to whichother people are blind. A primrose by a river’s brim is, perhaps, more to him who has a feeling for its form and colour than even to the scientific student, who can tell all about its classification and component parts. A knowledge of music is often of the greatest practical service, as by virtue of it, its possessor is valuable to his associates, to say nothing of his having a constant source of pleasure and a means of recreation which is most precious as a relief from the cares of life. Of far greater importance is the knowledge of our best poetry. One of the first reforms in our school course would have been, I should have thought, to give this knowledge a much more prominent place; but Mr. Spencer consigns it, with music and drawing, to “the leisure part of education.” Whether a man who was engrossed by science, who had no knowledge of the fine arts except as they illustrated scientific laws, no acquaintance with the lives of great men, or with any history but sociology, and who studied the thoughts and emotions expressed by our great poets merely with a view to their psychological classification—whether such a man could be said to “live completely” is a question to which every one, not excepting Mr. Spencer himself, would probably return the same answer. And yet this is the kind of man which Mr. Spencer’s system would produce where it was most successful.
§ 15. Let me now briefly sum up the conclusions arrived at, and consider how far I differ from Mr. Spencer. I believe that there is no one study which is suited to train the faculties of the mind at every stage of its development, and that when we have decided on the necessity of this or that knowledge, we must consider further what is the right time for acquiring it. I believe that intellectual educationshould aim, not so much at communicating facts, however valuable, as at showing the boy what true knowledge is, and giving him the power and thedispositionto acquire it. I believe that the exclusively scientific teaching which Mr. Spencer approves would not effect this. It would lead at best to a very one-sided development of the mind. It might fail to engage the pupil’s interest sufficiently to draw out his faculties, and in this case the net outcome of his school-days would be no larger than at present. Of the knowledges which Mr. Spencer recommends for special objects, some, I think, would not conduce to the object, and some could not be communicated early in life, (1.) For indirect self-preservation we do not require to know physiology, but the results of physiology. (2.) The science which bears on special pursuits in life has not, in many cases, any pecuniary value, and although it is most desirable that every one should study the science which makes his work intelligible to him, this must usually be done when his schooling is over. The school will have done its part if it has accustomed him to the intellectual processes by which sciences are learned, and has given him an intelligent appreciation of their value.[191](3.) The right way of rearing and training children should be studied, but not by the children themselves. (4.) The knowledge which fits a manto discharge his duties as a citizen is of great importance, and, as Dr. Arnold pointed out, is likely to be entirely neglected by those who have to struggle for a livelihood. The schoolmaster should, therefore, by no means neglect this subject with those of his pupils whose school-days will soon be over, but, probably, all that he can do is to cultivate in them a sense of the citizen’s duty, and a capacity for being their own teachers. (5.) The knowledge of poetry, belles-lettres, and the fine arts, which Mr. Spencer hands over to the leisure part of education, is the only knowledge in his program which I think should most certainly form a prominent part in the curriculum of every school.
§ 16. I therefore differ, though with great respect, from the conclusions at which Mr. Spencer has arrived. But I heartily agree with him that we are bound to inquire into the relative value of knowledges, and if we take, as I should willingly do, Mr. Spencer’s test, and ask how does this or that knowledge influence action (including in our inquiry its influence on mind and character, through which it bears upon action), I think we should banish from our schools much that has hitherto been taught in them, besides those old tormentors of youth (laid, I fancy, at last—requiescant in pace)—thePropria quæ Maribusand its kindred absurdities. What weshouldteach is, of course, not so easily decided as what weshould not.
§ 17. I now come to consider Mr. Spencer’s second chapter, in which, under the heading of “Intellectual Education,” he gives an admirable summing up of the main principles in which the great writers on the subject have agreed, from Comenius downwards. These principles are, perhaps, not all of them unassailable, and even where they are true, many mistakes must be expected before we arriveat the best method of applying them; but the only reason that can be assigned for the small amount of influence they have hitherto exercised is, that most teachers are as ignorant of them as of the abstrusest doctrines of Kant and Hegel.
§ 18. In stating these principles Mr. Spencer points out that they merely form a commencement for a science of education. “Before educational methods can be made to harmonise in character and arrangement with the faculties in the mode and order of unfolding, it is first needful that we ascertain with some completeness how the facultiesdounfold. At present we have acquired on this point only a few general notions. These general notions must be developed in detail—must be transformed into a multitude of specific propositions before we can be said to possess thatscienceon which theartof education must be based. And then, when we have definitely made out in what succession and in what combinations the mental powers become active, it remains to choose out of the many possible ways of exercising each of them, that which best conforms to its natural mode of action. Evidently, therefore, it is not to be supposed that even our most advanced modes of teaching are the right ones, or nearly the right ones.” It is not to be wondered at that we have no science of education. Those who have been able to observe the phenomena have had no interest in generalising from them. Up to the present time the schoolmaster has been a person to whom boys were sent to learn Latin and Greek. He has had, therefore, no more need of a science than the dancing-master.[192]But the present century, which has brought in somany changes, will not leave the state of education as it found it. Latin and Greek, if they are not dethroned in our higher schools, will have their despotism changed for a very limited monarchy. A course of instruction certainly without Greek and perhaps without Latin will have to be provided for middle schools. Juster views are beginning to prevail of the schoolmaster’s function. It is at length perceived that he has to assist the development of the human mind, and perhaps, by-and-bye, he may think it as well to learn all he can of that which he is employed in developing. When matters have advanced as far as this, we may begin to hope for a science of education. In Locke’s day he could say of physical science that there was no such science in existence. For thousands of years the human race had lived in ignorance of the simplest laws of the world it inhabited. But the true method of inquiring once introduced, science has made such rapid conquests, and acquired so great importance, that some of our ablest men seem inclined to deny, if not the existence, at least the value, of any other kind of knowledge. So, too, when teachers seek by actual observation to discover the laws of mental development, a science may be arrived at, which, in its influence on mankind, would perhaps rank before any we now possess.
§ 19. Those who have read the previous Essays will have seen in various forms most of the principles which Mr. Spencer enumerates, but I gladly avail myself of his assistance in summing them up.
1. We should proceed from the simple to the complex,both in our choice of subjects and in the way in which each subject is taught. We should begin with but few subjects at once, and, successively adding to these, should finally carry on all subjects abreast.
Each larger concept is made by a combination of smaller ones, and presupposes them. If this order is not attended to in communicating knowledge, the pupil can learn nothing but words, and will speedily sink into apathy and disgust.
§ 20. That we must proceed from the known to the unknown is something more than a corollary to the above;[193]because not only are new concepts formed by the combination of old, but the mind has a liking for what it knows, and this liking extends itself to all that can be connected with its object. The principle of using the known in teaching the unknown is so simple, that all teachers who really endeavour to make anything understood, naturally adopt it. The traveller who is describing what he has seen and what we have not seen tells us that it is in one particular like this object, and in another like that object, with which we are already familiar. We combine these different concepts we possess, and so get some notion of things about which we were previously ignorant. What is required in our teaching is that the use of the known should be employed more systematically. Most teachers think of boys who have no school learning as entirely ignorant. The least reflection shows, however, that they know already much more than schools can ever teach them. A sarcastic examiner is said to have handed a small piece of paper to a student and told him to writeall he knewon it. Perhapsmany boys would have no difficulty in stating the sum of their school-learning within very narrow limits, but with other knowledge a child of five years old, could he write, might soon fill a volume.[194]Our aim should be to connect the knowledge boys bring with them to the schoolroom with that which they are to acquire there.[195]I suppose all will allow, whether they think it a matter of regret or otherwise, that hardly anything of the kind has hitherto been attempted. Against this state of things I cannot refrain from borrowing Mr. Spencer’s eloquent protest. “Not recognising the truth that the function of books is supplementary—that they form an indirect means to knowledge when direct means fail, a means of seeing through other men what you cannot see for yourself, teachers are eager to give second-hand facts in place of first-hand facts. Not perceiving the enormous value of that spontaneous education which goes on in early years, not perceiving that a child’s restless observation, instead of being ignored or checked, should be diligently ministered to, and made as accurate and complete as possible, they insist on occupying its eyes and thoughts with things that are, for the time being, incomprehensible and repugnant. Possessed by a superstition which worships thesymbols of knowledge instead of the knowledge itself, they do not see that only when his acquaintance with the objects and processes of the household, the street, and the fields, is becoming tolerably exhaustive, only then should a child be introduced to the new sources of information which books supply, and this not only because immediate cognition is of far greater value than mediate cognition, but also because the words contained in books can be rightly interpreted into ideas only in proportion to the antecedent experience of things.”[196]While agreeing heartily in the spirit of this protest, I doubt whether we should wait till the child’s acquaintance with the objects and processes of the household, the streets, and the fields, is becoming tolerably exhaustive before we give him instruction from books. The point of time which Mr. Spencer indicates is, at all events, rather hard to fix, and I should wish to connect book-learning as soon as possible with the learning that is being acquired in other ways. Thus might both the books, and the acts and objects of daily life, win an additional interest. If,e.g., the first reading-books were about the animals, and later on about the trees and flowers which the children constantly meet with, and their attention was kept up by large coloured pictures, to which the text might refer, the childrenwould soon find both pleasure and advantage in reading, and they would look at the animals and trees with a keener interest from the additional knowledge of them they had derived from books. This is, of course, only one small application of a very influential principle.
§ 21. One marvellous instance of the neglect of this principle is found in the practice of teaching Latin grammar before English grammar. As Professor Seeley has so well pointed out, children bring with them to school the knowledge of language in its concrete form. They may soon be taught to observe the language they already know, and to find, almost for themselves, some of the main divisions of words in it. But, instead of availing himself of the child’s previous knowledge, the schoolmaster takes a new and difficult language, differing as much as possible from English, a new and difficult science, that of grammar, conveyed, too, in a new and difficult terminology, and all this he tries to teach at the same time. The consequence is that the science is destroyed, the terminology is either misunderstood, or, more probably, associated with no ideas, and even the language for which every sacrifice is made, is found, in nine cases out of ten, never to be acquired at all.[197]
§ 22. 2. “All development is an advance from the indefinite to the definite.” I do not feel very certain of the truth of this principle, or of its application, if true. Of course, a child’s intellectual conceptions are at first vague, and we should not forget this; but it is rather a fact than a principle.
§ 23. 3. “Our lessons ought to start from the concrete, and end in the abstract.” What Mr. Spencer says under this head well deserves the attention of all teachers. “General formulas which men have devised to express groups of details, and which have severally simplified their conceptions by uniting many facts into one fact, they have supposed must simplify the conceptions of a child also. They have forgotten that a generalisation is simple only in comparison with the whole mass of particular truths it comprehends; that it is more complex than any one of these truths taken simply; that only, after many of these single truths have been acquired, does the generalisation ease the memory and help the reason; and that, to a mind not possessing these single truths, it is necessarily a mystery. Thus, confounding two kinds of simplification, teachers have constantly erred by setting out with “first principles,” a proceeding essentially, though not apparently, at variance with the primary rule [of proceeding from the simple to thecomplex], which implies that the mind should be introduced to principles through the medium of examples, and so should be led from the particular to the general, from the concrete to the abstract.” In conformity with this principle, Pestalozzi made the actual counting of things precede the teaching of abstract rules in arithmetic. Basedow introduced weights and measures into the school, and Mr. Spencer describes some exercise in cutting out geometrical figures in cardboard, as a preparation for geometry. The difficulty about such instruction is that it requires apparatus, and apparatus is apt to get lost or out of order. But if apparatus is good for anything at all, it is worth a little trouble. There is a tendency in the minds of many teachers to depreciate “mechanical appliances.” Even a decent black-board is not always to be found in our higher schools. But, though such appliances will not enable a bad master to teach well, nevertheless, other things being equal, the master will teach better with them than without them. There is little credit due to him for managing to dispense with apparatus. An author might as well pride himself on being saving in pens and paper.
§ 24. 4. “The genesis of knowledge in the individual must follow the same course as the genesis of knowledge in the race.” This is the thesis on which I have no opinion to offer.
§ 25. 5. From the above principle Mr. Spencer infers that every study should have a purely experimental introduction, thus proceeding through an empirical stage to a rational.
§ 26. 6. A second conclusion which Mr. Spencer draws is that, in education, the process of self-development should be encouraged to the utmost. Children should be led tomake their own investigations, and to draw their own inferences. They should be told as little as possible, and induced to discover as much as possible. I quite agree with Mr. Spencer that this principle cannot be too strenuously insisted on, though it obviously demands a high amount of intelligence in the teacher. But if education is to be a training of the faculties, if it is to prepare the pupil to teach himself, something more is needed than simply to pour in knowledge and make the pupil reproduce it. The receptive and reproductive faculties form but a small portion of a child’s powers, and yet the only portion which many schoolmasters seek to cultivate. It is indeed, not easy to get beyond this point; but the impediment is in us, not in the children. “Who can watch,” ask Mr. Spencer, “the ceaseless observation, and inquiry, and inference, going on in a child’s mind, or listen to its acute remarks in matters within the range of its faculties, without perceiving that these powers it manifests, if brought to bear systematically upon studieswithin the same range, would readily master them without help? This need for perpetual telling results from our stupidity, not from the child’s. We drag it away from the facts in which it is interested, and which it is actively assimilating of itself. We put before it facts far too complex for it to understand, and therefore distasteful to it. Finding that it will not voluntarily acquire these facts, we thrust them into its mind by force of threats and punishment. By thus denying the knowledge it craves, and cramming it with knowledge it cannot digest, we produce a morbid state of its faculties, and a consequent disgust for knowledge in general. And when, as a result, partly of the stolid indolence we have brought on, and partly of still-continued unfitness in its studies, the childcan understand nothing without explanation, and becomes a mere passive recipient of our instruction, we infer that education must necessarily be carried on thus. Having by our method induced helplessness, we make the helplessness a reason for our method.” It is, of course, much easier to point out defects than to remedy them: but every one who has observed the usual indifference of schoolboys to their work, and the waste of time consequent on their inattention or only half-hearted attention to the matter before them, and then thinks of the eagerness with which the same boys throw themselves into the pursuits of their play-hours, will feel a desire to get at the cause of this difference; and, perhaps, it may seem to him partly accounted for by the fact that their school-work makes a monotonous demand on a single faculty—the memory.
§ 27. 7. This brings me to the last of Mr. Spencer’s principles of intellectual education. Instruction must excite the interest of the pupils and therefore be pleasurable to them. “Nature has made the healthful exercise of our faculties both of mind and body pleasurable. It is true that some of the highest mental powers as yet but little developed in the race, and congenitally possessed in any considerable degree only by the most advanced, are indisposed to the amount of exertion required of them. But these, in virtue of their very complexity will in a normal course of culture come last into exercise, and will, therefore, have no demands made on them until the pupil has arrived at an age when ulterior motives can be brought into play, and an indirect pleasure made to counterbalance a direct displeasure. With all faculties lower than these, however, the immediate gratification consequent on activity is the normal stimulus, and under good management the onlyneedful stimulus. When we have to fall back on some other, we must take the fact as evidence that we are on the wrong track. Experience is daily showing with greater clearness that there is always a method to be found productive of interest—even of delight—and it ever turns out that this is the method proved by all other tests to be the right one.”
§ 28. As far as I have had the means of judging, I have found that the majority of teachers reject this principle. If you ask them why, most of them will tell you that it is impossible to make school-work interesting to children. A large number also hold that it is not desirable. Let us consider these two points separately.
Of course, if it is not possible to get children to take interest in anything they could be taught in school, there is an end of the matter. But no one really goes as far as this. Every teacher finds that some of the things boys are taught they like better than others, and perhaps that one boy takes to one subject and another to another; and he also finds, both of classes and individuals, that they always get on best with what they like best. The utmost that can be maintained is, then, that some subjects which must be taught will not interest the majority of the learners. And if it be once admitted that it is desirable to make learning pleasant and interesting to our pupils, this principle will influence us to some extent in the subjects we select for teaching, and still more in the methods by which we endeavour to teach them. I say we shall be guidedto some extentin the selection of subjects. There are theorists who assert that nature gives to young minds a craving for their proper aliment, so that they should be taught only what they show an inclination for. But surely our natural inclinations in this matter, as in others, are neither on theone hand to be ignored, nor on the other to be uncontrolled by such motives as our reason dictates to us. We at length perceive this in the physical nurture of our children. Locke directs that children are to have very little sugar or salt. “Sweetmeats of all kinds are to be avoided,” says he, “which, whether they do more harm to the maker or eater is not easy to tell.” (Ed. § 20.) Now, however, doctors have found out that young people’s taste for sweets should in moderation be gratified, that they require sugar as much as they require any other kind of nutriment. But no one would think of feeding his children entirely on sweetmeats, or even of letting them have an unlimited supply of plum puddings and hardbake. If we follow out this analogy in nourishing the mind, we shall, to some extent, gratify a child’s taste for “stories,” whilst we also provide a large amount of more solid fare. But although we should certainly not ignore our children’s likes and dislikes in learning, or in anything else, it is easy to attach too much importance to them. Dislike very often proceeds from mere want of insight into the subject. When a boy has “done” the First Book of Euclid without knowing how to judge of the size of an angle, or the Second Book without forming any conception of a rectangle, no one can be surprised at his not liking Euclid. And then the failure which is really due to bad teaching is attributed by the master to the stupidity of his pupil, and by the pupil to the dulness of the subject. If masters really desired to make learning a pleasure to their pupils, I think they would find that much might be done to effect this without any alteration in the subjects taught.
But the present dulness of school-work is not without its defenders. They insist on the importance of breakingin the mind to hard work. This can only be done, they say, by tasks which are repulsive to it. The schoolboy does not like, and ought not to like, learning Latin grammar any more than the colt should find pleasure in running round in a circle: the very fact that these things are not pleasant makes them beneficial. Perhaps a certain amount of such training may traindownthe mind and qualify it for some drudgery from which it might otherwise revolt; but if this result is attained, it is attained at the sacrifice of the intellectual activity which is necessary for any higher function. As Carlyle says, (Latter-Day PP., No. iij), when speaking of routine work generally, you want nothing but a sorry nag to draw your sand-cart; your high-spirited Arab will be dangerous in such a capacity. But who would advocate for all colts a training which should render them fit for nothing but such humble toil? I shall say more about this further on (v.pp. 472ff.); here I will merely express my strong conviction that boys’ minds are frequently dwarfed, and their interest in intellectual pursuits blighted, by the practice of employing the first years of their school-life in learning by heart things which it is quite impossible for them to understand or care for. Teachers set out by assuming that little boys cannot understand anything, and that all we can do with them is to keep them quiet and cram them with forms which will come in useful at a later age. When the boys have been taught on this system for two or three years, their teacher complains that they are stupid and inattentive, and that so long as they can say a thing by heart they never trouble themselves to understand it. In other words, the teacher grumbles at them for doing precisely what they have been taught to do, for repeating words without any thought of their meaning.
§ 29. In this very important matter I am fully alive to the difference between theory and practice. It is so easy to recommend that boys should be got to understand and take an interest in their work—so difficult to carry out the recommendation! Grown people can hardly conceive that words which have in their minds been associated with familiar ideas from time immemorial, are mere sounds in the mouths of their pupils. The teacher thinks he is beginning at the beginning if he says that a transitive verb must govern an accusative, or that all the angles of a square are right angles. He gives his pupils credit for innate ideas up to this point, at all events, and advancing on this supposition he finds that he can get nothing out of them but memory-work; so he insists on this that his time and theirs may seem not to be wholly wasted. The great difficulty of teaching well, however, is after all but a poor excuse for contentedly teaching badly, and it would be a great step in advance if teachers in general were as dissatisfied with themselves as they usually are with their pupils.[198]
§ 30. I do not purpose following Mr. Spencer through his chapters on moral and physical education. In practice I find I can draw no line between moral and religious education; so the discussion of one without the other has not for me much interest. Mr. Spencer has some very valuable remarks on physical education which I could do little more than extract, and I have already made too many quotations from a work which will be in the hands of most of my readers.
§ 31. Mr. Spencer differs very widely from the great body of our schoolmasters. I have ventured in turn to differ on some points from Mr. Spencer; but I have failed to give any adequate notion of the work I have been discussing if the reader has not perceived that it is not only one of the most readable, but also one of the most important books on education in the English language.