They were very far indeed from seeing all the
implications
of this
conclusion: these showed themselves only in the sequel; but the fact is,
that the principle of the separation between the man and the citizen,
and the assignment of the place of honor to the former, proved at once
the destroying angel of Hellenism and the animating spirit of the
civilization which took its place.
conclusion: these showed themselves only in the sequel; but the fact is,
that the principle of the separation between the man and the citizen,
and the assignment of the place of honor to the former, proved at once
the destroying angel of Hellenism and the animating spirit of the
civilization which took its place.
Aristotle and Ancient Educational Ideals by Thomas Davidson
In fact, he maintains that the special
function of the fine arts is to act as cathartics for the different
passions. Art is ideal experience. Aristotle has left us a work on
tragedy that holds the place of honor in the literature of that subject
even at the present day.
DRAWING Aristotle recommends as a branch of study which develops taste
and judgment in regard to the products of industrial art; but he says it
should not be studied merely for its use in enabling us to choose these,
or even works of fine art, correctly, but rather because it enables us
to appreciate beauty of form. He adds: "The perpetual demand for what is
merely useful is anything but a mark of breadth or liberality. "
After thus briefly dismissing Letters and Drawing, Aristotle passes on
to Gymnastics and Music, and devotes considerable space to each.
Alongside GYMNASTICS, but distinguished from them, he names PHYSICAL
CULTURE (? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ), saying that, while the former gives character to
the acts of the body, the latter gives character to the body itself. The
aim of gymnastic training should be neither athleticism nor ferocity,
such as the Lacedaemonians cultivate in their children in the hope of
making them courageous. The former is detrimental to the beauty and
growth of the body; the latter misses its aim (see p. 41). "Hence
nobility, and not ferocity, ought to play the principal part among our
aims in physical education. For neither a wolf nor any other wild beast
ever braved a noble danger. To do that takes a noble man; and those who
allow their children to go too deep into such wild exercises, and so
leave them uninstructed in the necessary branches, make them, in point
of fact, mere professionals, useful for the ends of the State only in a
single requisite, and, as we have shown, inferior to others even in
that.
"There is a general agreement, then, as to the utility of Gymnastics and
to the manner in which they ought to be conducted. Up to the age of
puberty, children ought to be subjected only to the lighter exercises,
and all forced dieting and violent exertions eschewed, so that no
obstacle may be put to the growth of the body. It is no slight evidence
of the fact that violent exercise impedes growth, that there are not
more than two or three examples on record of persons' having been
victorious at the Olympic games both as boys and men. The explanation of
this is, that the others were robbed of their strength in their boyhood
by the training they had to undergo. " After the advent of puberty, for a
period of three years, the young men are apparently to have very little
gymnastics, and to devote themselves assiduously to letters, music, and
drawing. The period following this is to be devoted to severe exercise
and strict dieting, mental exertion being reduced to a minimum; "for the
two kinds of exertion naturally work against each other, bodily exertion
impeding the intellect, and intellectual exertion the body. "
On MUSIC, as a branch of study, we have almost a disquisition from the
pen of Aristotle. The question that first occupies him is, What is the
use of music? Is it a recreation, an occupation for cultured leisure, or
a gymnastic for the soul? It is all three, he replies, and would deserve
study for the sake of any one of them. At the same time, its chief value
in education lies in its third use. Music imparts a mental habit; about
that there can be no doubt. For example, the songs of Olympus "render
the soul enthusiastic, and enthusiasm is an affection of the soul's
habit. " Aristotle reasons in this way: Music is capable of affecting us
with all kinds of pleasures and pains. But moral worth at bottom
consists in finding pleasure in what is noble, and pain in what is
ignoble, that is, in a correct distribution of affection. But in good
music the strains that give pleasure are attached to the ideas that are
noble, and the strains that give pain to the ideas that are ignoble;
hence, by a natural association, the pleasures and pains which we find
in the music attach themselves to the ideas which it accompanies. "There
is nothing that we ought to learn and practice so assiduously as the art
of judging correctly and of taking delight in gentlemanly bearing and
noble deeds. And apart from the natural manifestations of the passions
themselves, there is nothing in which we can find anger, gentleness,
courage, self-control, and their opposites, as well as the other moods,
so well represented as in rhythms and songs. This we all know by
experience; for the moods of our souls change when we listen to such
strains. But the practice which we thus receive from rhythms and songs,
in rejoicing and suffering properly, brings us very near being affected
in the same way by the realities themselves. " Here Aristotle draws a
distinction between music, which appeals to the ear, and the arts that
appeal to the other senses, or rather to sight; for no art appeals to
touch, taste, or smell. In the objects of art that appeal to the eye, we
have expressions of passions only in so far as they affect the body,
whereas in music we have their direct expression passing from soul to
soul. Yet persons are deeply moved by statuary and painting, so much so
that young people ought not to be allowed to see such works as those of
Pauson. How much more then must they be moved by music! "That they are
so is quite plain; for there is such an obvious difference of nature
between harmonies that the listeners are affected in entirely different
ways by them. By some they are thrown into a kind of mournful or grave
mood, _e. g. _, by what is known as the mixed Lydian; by others a
sentimental turn is given to their thoughts, for example, by languid
harmonies; while there is another kind that especially produces balance
of feeling and collectedness. This effect is confined to the Doric
harmonies. The Phrygian harmonies rouse enthusiasm. These are correct
results arrived at by those thinkers who have devoted their attention to
this branch of education,--results based upon actual experience. What is
true of harmonies is true also of rhythms. Some of these have a steady,
others a mobile, character; of the latter, again, some have coarse,
others refined, movements. From all these considerations, it is obvious
that music is calculated to impart a certain character to the habit of
the soul, whence it follows that it ought to be brought to bear upon
children, and instruction given them in it. Musical instruction, indeed,
is admirably adapted to their stage of development; for young people,
just because they are young, are not fond of persisting in anything that
does not give them pleasure, and music is one of the pleasant things.
There seems even to be a certain kinship between harmonies and rhythms
[and the soul]; whence many philosophers hold that the soul is a
harmony, or that it has harmony. "
Aristotle, having thus shown that music is a proper subject of
instruction, goes on to inquire "whether children ought, or ought not,
to be taught music, by being taught to sing and play themselves? " His
answer is well worth quoting at full length. "It is quite evident," he
says, "that music will have a very much greater effect in moulding
people, if they take part in the performance themselves. Indeed, it is
difficult, or even impossible, for those who do not learn to do things
themselves to be good judges of them when they are done. At the same
time, children must have some amusement, and we may look upon Archytas'
rattle, which they give to children to spend their energies upon, and to
prevent them from breaking things about the house, as a good invention.
It is useless to try to keep a young creature quiet, and, just as the
rattle is the proper thing for babies, so musical instruction is the
proper rattle for older children. It follows that children ought to be
taught music by being made to produce it themselves, and it is not
difficult to determine either what is suitable and unsuitable for
different ages, or to answer those people who pretend that the study of
music is something ungentlemanly. In the first place, since people must,
to some extent, learn things themselves, in order to form a correct
judgment about them, they ought to learn the practice of them while they
are young, so that, when they grow up, they may be able to dispense with
it, and yet, through their early studies, be able to judge of them
correctly and take the proper delight in them. To the objections which
some people raise, that music turns people into craftsmen, it is not
hard to find an answer, if we consider to what extent the practice of
music ought to be required of children who are being reared in the civic
virtues, what songs and rhythms they ought to learn, and what
instruments they ought to use--for this makes a difference. Herein lies
the solution of the difficulty. The fact is, there is nothing to prevent
certain kinds of music from accomplishing the end proposed.
"It is, of course, obvious that the acquisition of music ought not to be
allowed to interfere with future usefulness, to impart an ignoble habit
to the body, or render it unfit for civic duties,--either for the
immediate learning, or the subsequent exercise, of them. All the
beneficial results of musical education would be attained, if, instead
of going into a laborious practice, such as is required to prepare
people for public exhibitions, if instead of trying to perform those
marvellous feats and _tours de force_ which have lately become popular
at public exhibitions, and passed from them into education, the children
were to learn just enough to enable them to take delight in noble songs
and rhythms, instead of finding a mere undiscriminating pleasure in
anything that calls itself music, as some of the lower animals and the
bulk of slaves and children do. If so much be admitted, we need be in no
doubt respecting our choice of instruments. " Aristotle specially
condemns the flute, and tells how it came into use, and how it was
afterwards discarded, as exerting an immoral influence. "In the same way
were condemned many of the older instruments, as the pectis, the
barbitus, and those which tended to produce sensual pleasure in the
hearers--also the septangle, the triangle, the sambuca, and all those
requiring scientific manipulation. " . . . "We would, then, condemn all
professional instruction in the nature and use of these instruments.
'Professional' we call all instruction that looks toward public
exhibitions. The person who receives this pursues his art, not with a
view to his own culture, but to afford a pleasure, and that a vulgar
one, to other people. For this reason we hold that such practice is not
proper for free men, but savors of meniality and handicraft. The aim,
indeed, for which they undertake this task is an ignoble one. For
audiences, being vulgar, are wont to change their music, and so react
upon the character of the professionals who cater to their tastes, and
this again has its influence upon their bodies, on account of the
motions which they are obliged to go through. "
Since different kinds of music have different effects upon the habit of
the soul, Aristotle next inquires what kinds are suitable for education.
"We accept," he says, "the classification made by certain philosophers,
who divide songs into ethical, practical, and enthusiastic, assigning to
them the different harmonies respectively, and we affirm that music is
to be employed, not for one useful purpose alone, but for several;
_first_, for instruction; _second_, for purgation; and _third_, for
cultured leisure, for relaxation, and for recreation. It is obvious that
all harmonies ought to be employed, though not all in the same way. The
most ethical (_i. e. _ those that most affect the _ethos_ or habit of the
soul) must be employed for instruction; the practical and enthusiastic
for entertainments by professional performers. For those emotions which
manifest themselves powerfully in some souls are potentially present in
all, with a difference in degree merely, _e. g. _, pity, fear, and also
enthusiasm, a form of excitement by which certain persons are very
liable to be possessed. If we watch the effects of the sacred songs, we
shall see that those persons are restored to a normal condition under
the influence of those that solemnize the soul, just as if they had
undergone medical treatment and purgation. The same thing must happen to
all persons predisposed to pity, fear, or emotion generally, as well as
to others in so far as they allow themselves to come within the reach of
any of these; for them all there must exist some form or another of
purgation and relief accompanied with pleasure. In this way those
'purgative' songs afford a harmless pleasure, and it is for this reason
that there ought to be a legal enactment to the effect that performers
giving public concerts should employ such harmonies and such songs. The
fact is, since there are two kinds of public, the one free and
cultivated, the other rude and vulgar, composed of mechanics, laborers,
and the like, there must be entertainments and exhibitions to afford
pastime to the latter as well as the former. As the souls of these
people are, so to speak, perverted from the normal habit, so also among
the harmonies there are abnormities, and among songs there are the
strained and discolored; and each individual derives pleasure from that
which is germane to his nature. For this reason performers must be
allowed to produce this kind of music, for the benefit of this portion
of the public.
"For the purposes of instruction, as has been said, we must employ
ethical songs and the corresponding harmonies. Such a harmony is the
Doric, as has already been remarked. We must likewise admit any other
species of music that may have approved itself to such persons as have
devoted attention to philosophic discussion and musical education. . . . In
respect to the Doric harmony, it is universally admitted to be, of all
harmonies, the most sedate, expressive of the most manly character.
Moreover, since our principle is, that the mean between extremes is
desirable and ought to be pursued, and the Doric harmony holds this
relation to other harmonies, it follows that Doric songs should be
taught to young people in preference to any other. Two things, however,
must be kept in view, the practicable and the befitting. I mean that we
must discuss what is specially practicable for different people, as well
as what is befitting. This, indeed, will depend upon the different
periods of life. For example, it would not be easy for persons in the
decline of life to sing the intense harmonies; for them nature suggests
the languid kinds. For this reason those musicians are right who blame
Socrates for having condemned the languid harmonies, as subjects of
instruction, on the ground that they were intoxicating. (By this term he
did not mean inebriating, in the sense that wine is inebriating,--for
wine renders boisterous rather than anything else,--but languid. ) The
truth is, with an eye to the future, to old age, instruction ought to be
given in harmonies and songs of this sort. Moreover, if there is any
harmony suitable for youth, as tending to refine as well as to instruct,
as is the case notably with the Lydian, it, of course, ought to be
adopted. It is clear, then, that there are three distinct things to be
considered in reference to education, avoidance of extremes,
practicability, and appropriateness. "
So much for the four branches of study which, according to Aristotle,
ought to compose the curriculum of youth. We have noticed that, in his
extant works, he says little about Letters and Drawing. Just what
branches the former was supposed to include, he has nowhere told us
directly; but I think there can be little doubt that he gave a place to
Grammar, Rhetoric (including Poetics), Dialectic, Arithmetic, Geometry,
and Astronomy, which, along with Music, make up the Seven Liberal Arts,
the _Trivium_ and _Quadrivium_ of the Middle Ages. This curriculum
underwent considerable changes at different times, as we can see from
Philo, Teles, Sextus Empiricus, St. Augustine, and others; but in
Martianus Capella it returned to its original form, and in this
dominated education for a thousand years. We might perhaps draw out
Aristotle's programme of secondary education thus:--
{ {Physical {Dancing (see p. 82) }Before
{ { Training {Deportment } puberty.
{ {
{ { {Running }
{ { {Leaping }Before
{_Practical_ { {Javelin-casting } puberty.
{ { {Discus-throwing }
{ { {
{ {Gymnastics {Wrestling }
{ { {Shooting }After
STUDIES: { {Marching } puberty.
{_Creative_ {Music {Drilling }
{ {Drawing {Riding }
{
{ {Grammar }
{ {Rhetoric }Before puberty.
{_Theoretic_ {Dialectic }
{ {
{ {Arithmetic }
{ {Geometry }After puberty.
{ {Astronomy }
CHAPTER VII
EDUCATION AFTER TWENTY-ONE
Be assured that happiness has its source, not in extensive
possessions, but in a right disposition of the soul. Even in the
case of the body, no one would call it fortunate for being arrayed
in splendid garments; but one would do so, if it had health, and
were nobly developed, even without such appendages. In the same
manner, we ought to ascribe happiness to the soul only when it is
cultivated, and to call a man happy only if he possesses such a
soul, not if he is splendidly attired outwardly, but has no worth of
his own. . . . For those whose souls are ill-conditioned, neither
wealth, nor power, nor beauty is a blessing; on the contrary, the
more excessive these conditions are, the more widely and deeply do
they injure their possessors, being unaccompanied with
right-mindedness. --Aristotle.
Zeno used to tell a story about Crates, to this effect: One day
Crates was sitting in a shoemaker's shop, reading aloud Aristotle's
_Exhortation_ (to Philosophy), addressed to Themison, king of the
Cyprians, in which the king is reminded that he possesses, in an
exceptional degree, all the conditions of philosophy, superabundant
wealth, and high position. As he was reading, the shoemaker, without
interrupting his sewing, listened to him, until at last Crates said:
"Philiscus, I think I will write an _Exhortation_ for you; for I see
you have more of the conditions of philosophy than Aristotle has
enumerated. "--Teles.
At the age of twenty-one, those young men who have successfully
completed the State system of training become citizens or politicians,
and begin to exercise the functions of such. These are of two kinds, (1)
active, practical, or executive, and (2) deliberative, theoretical, or
legislative. As action must, on the one hand, be vigorous, and, on the
other, guided by deliberation, which requires large experience, the
functions of the State must be so arranged that the active duties fall
to the young and robust, the deliberative to the elderly and mature. The
distinguishing virtue of the former is fortitude, with endurance or
patience; that of the latter philosophy. Both equally have self-control
and justice. In this way does Aristotle distribute Plato's four cardinal
virtues.
When young men first become citizens, they are assigned to posts of
active service, civil and military, and thus study practical
philosophy--Ethics and Politics--in a practical way. As they grow older,
they gradually rise to posts demanding less practice and more thought,
until at last they are admitted to the deliberative body, or council,
when their active duties cease, and they are able to devote themselves
to Speculative Philosophy or Theoretics. These men have now reached the
end of life, as far as this world is concerned. They spend their days in
cultured leisure, and the contemplation of divine things (? ? ? ? ? ? ). The
very oldest of them, those who are most conversant with divine things,
are chosen as priests, so that they may, as it were, live with the gods,
and these be worthily served. Thus gradually, almost insensibly, they
pass from the world of time to that of eternity; from the imperfect
activity of practice, whose end is beyond itself, to the perfect energy
of contemplation, which is self-sufficient and the life of God. In this
way Aristotle settles the vexed question with regard to the
compatibility and relative value of the practical and the contemplative
life. They are necessary complements of each other. Practice is the
realization of what contemplation discovers in the pure energy of God,
revealing itself in the world. Thus the practical life of man glides
gradually into the contemplative life of God.
Such is the highest view of man's destiny, and the way thither, that the
Greeks ever reached, and it is in many ways a most attractive and
inspiring one. Its defects are the defects of all that is Greek. They
are two: (1) its ideal is intellectual and aesthetic,--a coordinated,
harmonious whole, whereof the individual is but a part: not moral or
religious--a self-surrender of the individual to the supreme will;
consequently, (2) it does not provide for every human being, as such,
but only for a small, select number, the fruit of the whole. Its ethics
are institutional not personal, and, indeed, the Greek never arrived at
a distant conception of personality, that being possible only through
the moral consciousness, which is its core. It seeks to find happiness
in a correlation and balancing of individual selves, not in the
independent conformity of each self to a supreme self. Hence it was
that, with all its marvellous grasp and manly prudence, the ideal of
Aristotle proved powerless to restore the moral unity of man, until it
was absorbed in a higher.
BOOK IV
THE HELLENISTIC PERIOD
(B. C. 338-A. D. 313)
CHAPTER I
FROM ETHNIC TO COSMOPOLITAN LIFE
'Tis Greece, but living Greece no more. --Byron.
Most glorious of all the Undying, many-named, girt round with awe!
Jove, author of Nature, applying to all things the rudder of law--
Hail! Hail! for it justly rejoices the races whose life is a span
To lift unto Thee their voices--the Author and Framer of Man.
For we are Thy sons; Thou didst give us the symbols of speech at our
birth,
Alone of the things that live, and mortal move upon earth.
Wherefore Thou shalt find me extolling and ever singing Thy praise;
Since Thee the great Universe, rolling on its path round the world,
obeys:--
Obeys Thee, wherever Thou guidest, and gladly is bound in Thy bands,
So great is the power Thou confidest, with strong, invincible hands,
To Thy mighty, ministering servant, the bolt of the thunder, that
flies,
Two-edged, like a sword and fervent, that is living and never dies.
All nature, in fear and dismay, doth quake in the path of its stroke,
What time Thou preparest the way for the one Word Thy lips have spoke,
Which blends with lights smaller and greater, which pervadeth and
thrilleth all things,
So great is Thy power and Thy nature--in the Universe Highest of Kings!
On earth, of all deeds that are done, O God! there is none without
Thee.
In the holy aether not one, nor one on the face of the sea;
Save the deeds that evil men, driven by their own blind folly, have
planned;
But things that have grown uneven are made even again by Thy hand;
And things unseemly grow seemly, the unfriendly are friendly to Thee;
For so good and evil supremely Thou hast blended in one by decree.
For all Thy decree is one ever--a Word that endureth for aye,
Which mortals, rebellious, endeavor to flee from and shun to obey--
Ill-fated, that, worn with proneness for the lordship of goodly things,
Neither hear nor behold, in its Oneness, the law that divinity brings;
Which men with reason obeying, might attain unto glorious life,
No longer aimlessly straying in the paths of ignoble strife.
There are men with a zeal unblest, that are wearied with following of
fame,
And men, with a baser quest, that are turned to lucre and shame.
There are men, too, that pamper and pleasure the flesh with delicate
stings:
All these desire beyond measure to be other than all these things.
Great Jove, all-giver, dark-clouded, great Lord of the thunderbolt's
breath!
Deliver the men that are shrouded in ignorance, dismal as death.
O Father! dispel from their souls the darkness, and grant them the
light
Of Reason, Thy stay, when the whole wide world Thou rulest with might,
That we, being honored, may honor Thy name with the music of hymns,
Extolling the deeds of the Donor, unceasing, as rightly beseems
Mankind; for no worthier trust is awarded to God or to man
Than forever to glory with justice in the law that endures and is
One. --Cleanthes.
The distinguishing characteristics of Hellenic education were unity,
comprehensiveness, proportion, and aimfulness. It extended to the whole
human being, striving to bring the various elements of his nature into
complete harmony in view of an end. This end was the State, in which the
individual citizen was expected to find a field for all his activities.
We have seen how, while conservative Sparta clung to this ideal to the
last, and rigorously excluded those influences which tended to undermine
it, Athens, by freely admitting these, gradually broke down the fair
proportion between bodily and mental education, in an excessive devotion
to the latter, and so came to make a distinction between the man and the
citizen. The result was an epidemic of individualism which threatened
the existence of all that was Hellenic. Against this destructive power
the noblest men in the nation, an AEschylus, an Aristophanes, a Pericles,
a Socrates, a Xenophon, a Plato, an Aristotle, fought with all the might
of worth and intellect. Some of them sought once more to remerge the man
in the citizen by means of a despotism and the suppression of all
intellectual pursuits; others, seeing clearly the impossibility of this,
tried so to define the sphere of the individual that it should not
encroach upon that of the citizen, but stand in harmonious relation to
it. They did this by placing the sphere of the individual above that of
the State, and, inasmuch as the former was a purely intellectual sphere,
they found themselves driven to conclude, and to lay down, that the
contemplative life is the end and consummation of the practical, that
the citizen and the State exist only for the sake of the individual.
They were very far indeed from seeing all the implications of this
conclusion: these showed themselves only in the sequel; but the fact is,
that the principle of the separation between the man and the citizen,
and the assignment of the place of honor to the former, proved at once
the destroying angel of Hellenism and the animating spirit of the
civilization which took its place. If we look closely at the schemes of
Plato and Aristotle, we shall see that they try to render innocuous the
spirit of individualism by exhausting its activities in intellectual
relations to the divine, offering it heaven, if it will only consent to
relinquish to the political spirit its earthly claims. They practically
said: Man, in all his relations to his fellow-men here below, is a
citizen; only in relation to God is he an individual. The history of the
last two thousand years is but a commentary on this text. From the day
when the master-mind of the Greek world credited man's nature with a
divine element having a supreme activity of its own, European thought
and life have been agitated by three questions, and largely shaped by
the answers given to them: (1) What is the nature of the divine element
in man? (2) In what form or institution shall that element find
expression and realization? (3) How shall that institution relate itself
to the State? And they have not yet been definitely answered.
Principles that are to move the world are never the result of mere
abstract thought, but always of a crisis or epoch in human affairs. And
so it was in the present case. The separation between the man and the
citizen was accomplished in fact, before it was formulated in theory. On
the other hand, the theory received emphasis from the events which
accompanied and followed its promulgation. The battle of Chaeronea, which
took place sixteen years before Aristotle's death, by putting an end
forever to the free civic life of Greece, removed the very conditions
under which the old ideal could realize itself, and forced men to seek
a sphere of activity, and to form associations, outside of the State.
The State, indeed, still maintained a semblance of life, and the old
education, with its literature, gymnastics, and music still continued;
but the spirit of both was gone. The State was gradually replaced by the
philosophic schools, while intellectual training tended more and more to
concentrate itself upon rhetoric, that art which enables the individual
to shine before his fellows, and to gain wealth or public preferment.
From this time on, the spiritual life of Greece found expression in the
pretentious, empty individualism of the rhetorician, the lineal
descendant of the sophists, and in the philosophical sects, which
embodied the spirit of Socrates, their opponent.
The founder of the rhetorical schools may be said to have been
Isocrates, who, after being a pupil of Socrates', turned against the
philosophic tendency, and championed elegant philistinism. The aim of
these schools was to turn out clever men of the world, thoroughly
acquainted with popular opinions and motives, and capable of expressing
themselves glibly, sententiously, and persuasively on any and every
subject. They usually made no profession of imparting profound learning
or eliciting philosophic thought: indeed, they despised both; but they
did seek to impart such an amount of ordinary knowledge as to place
their pupils in the chief current of the popular thought of their time.
They thus became the bearers of practical education among a people who,
having lost their political life without finding any higher, sought to
obtain satisfaction in social intercourse. For hundreds of years they
exerted an enormous influence, and, indeed, at certain times and places
were formidable rivals of the philosophic schools.
The first man of Greek race who attempted to found a sect or school
outside the State was Pythagoras, and there can be no doubt that all
subsequent schools were in some degree modelled upon his. It is true
that the Pythagorean school had been broken up and dispersed long before
the days of Plato and Aristotle (see p. 54); nevertheless, his
followers, scattered over Greece, had carried with them the ideas and
principles of their master, and now that Athens had fallen into the
condition against which the Pythagorean discipline had been a protest,
these ideas found a ready response in the hearts of those men whom the
social life of the time could not satisfy. Hence the schools of Plato
and Aristotle, which had originally been mere educational institutions,
turned, even during the lifetime of the latter, into sects (? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ,
heresies, as they were called later on), with definite sets of
non-political principles, in accordance with which their members tried
to shape their lives. It cannot be said that these two schools were in
any high degree successful, and the reasons were that they were too
purely intellectual, that they made no striking revolt against political
life, and that they called for a type of man not easy to find. But,
shortly after the death of Aristotle, there arose, almost
contemporaneously, two other schools, which exerted an influence, deep
and wide, for over six hundred years. These were the Epicurean and the
Stoic. Widely as these differed in respect to means, they sought the
same end, namely, personal independence, and they sought it by
conformity to laws imposed by no human legislator, but by nature. The
former took the law of the senses, the latter the law of the spirit, for
its guide; and, by a strange contradiction, while the former championed
free will, the latter professed fatalism. These four schools were the
only ones that ever met with extensive patronage in Athens, and with the
exception of the Academic, they never diverged far from the principles
of their founders. In the time of Marcus Aurelius, after Athens had been
for ages a mere Roman university, they were placed under State
patronage, and supported by public funds, and there is no record to show
that this was discontinued until they were finally closed by the Emperor
Justinian in A. D. 529.
Not long after the death of Aristotle, Athens was supplanted by
Alexandria, as the centre of Greek influence. Here the rhetorical and
philosophic schools established themselves, and could soon boast a
numerous discipleship. This, however, was no longer exclusively, or even
mainly, Greek, but was recruited from all the nations of the known
world, more especially those of the East. Phoenicians, Syrians, Jews,
Persians, etc. , not to speak of Egyptians, now became students of Greek
philosophy, and members of philosophic sects, whose members not only
studied together, but often, to a large extent, lived together in
communities. About the year B. C. 300 were founded the famous Museum and
Library of Alexandria--the first university and the first public library
in the world. Round these the various sects gathered, to study, to
discuss, and to exchange opinions. Nor was it Greek thought alone that
engaged their attention. The opinions and beliefs of Egypt and the East
came in for a share, and, in the end, for the largest share. Nor is this
wonderful, when we consider the direction that thought and life were
then taking.
We have already seen that, as Greek civic life lost the conditions of
its existence, the thoughtful portion of the people came more and more
to seek for life-principles in the supersensible world of intellect. The
nature of this world Plato and Aristotle had done their best to reveal.
But the event proved that neither an ordered host of ideas commanded by
the Good, nor a Supreme Intelligence served by a host of lower
intelligences, could yield the principles which the life of the time
demanded; and thus we find the philosophers of Alexandria striving to
people their intelligible world with forms drawn from all the religions
of the East, including Judaism. Thus there grew up the various forms of
Alexandrine philosophy, compounds of Greek thought and Oriental
religion. On the basis of these again were organized, at the same time,
various forms of social life, all tending more or less to religious
communism. Hence came the Essenes (see p. 59), the Therapeuts, the
Neopythagoreans, and the Neoplatonists, all of whom, notwithstanding
certain shortcomings, did much to purify life, and to pave the way for a
higher civilization.
In B. C. 146, Greece, and, in B. C. 30, Egypt, fell into the hands of the
Romans and thenceforth formed provinces of their empire. Athens and
Alexandria were now Roman university-towns, while Rome became more and
more the diffusing centre of Greek and Oriental influence. It would be
impossible, in a work like the present, to give even a sketch of the
forms which education assumed in these three great centres, or in the
world that revolved round them, in the six hundred and more years that
passed between the loss of Greek autonomy and the triumph of
Christianity. We shall merely endeavor to give a general notion of its
two chief tendencies, which, as we saw, were towards rhetoric and
philosophy; and we shall do this in connection with the names of two
men, who may be regarded as respectively typical of the two tendencies,
Quintilian the rhetorician, and Plotinus the philosopher. By doing so we
shall pave the way for the consideration of the Rise of the Christian
Schools.
CHAPTER II
QUINTILIAN AND RHETORICAL EDUCATION
Rhetoric is the counterpart of Dialectic. Both have for their
subjects those things which, in a certain way, are matters of common
knowledge, and belong to no definite science. Hence everybody, in
some degree, is gifted with them; for everybody, to some extent,
tries to examine and sustain an argument, to defend himself, and to
accuse others. --Aristotle.
There is a certain political theory which is made up of many great
things. A large and important part of it is artificial eloquence,
which they call rhetoric. --Cicero.
Every duty which tends to preserve human relations and human society
must be assigned a higher place than any that stops short with
knowledge and science. --_Id. _
Zeno, having pressed his fingers together and closed his fist, said
that was like Dialectic; having spread them out and opened his hand,
he said Eloquence was like his palm there. --_Id. _
To act considerately is of more moment than to think wisely. --_Id. _
I pass to the pleasure of oratorical eloquence, the delight of which
one enjoys not at any one moment, but almost every day and every
hour. --Tacitus.
Grammar is an experimental knowledge of the usages of language as
generally current among poets and prose writers. It is divided into
six parts, (1) trained reading with due regard to prosody [_i. e. _
aspiration, accentuation, quantity, emphasis, metre, etc. ], (2)
exposition according to poetic figures [literary criticism], (3)
ready statement of dialectical peculiarities and allusions
[philology, geography, history, mythology], (4) discovery of
etymologies, (5) accurate account of analogies [accidence and
syntax], (6) criticism of poetical productions, which is the noblest
part of the grammatic art [ethics, politics, strategy,
etc. ]. --Dionysius Thrax.
Reading is the rendering of poetic or prose productions without
stumbling or hesitancy. It must be done with due regard to
expression, prosody, and pauses. From the expression we learn the
merit of the piece, from the prosody the art of the reader, and from
the pauses the meaning intended to be conveyed. In this way we read
tragedy heroically, comedy conversationally, elegiacs thrillingly,
epics sustainedly, lyrics musically, and dirges softly and
plaintively. Any reading done without due observance of these rules
degrades the merits of the poets and makes the habits of readers
ridiculous. --_Id. _
Some arts are common, others liberal. . . . The liberal arts, which
some call the logical arts, are astronomy, geometry, music,
philosophy, medicine, grammar, rhetoric. --_Scholia to Dionysius
Thrax. _
It is obvious that man excels the other animals in worth and speech:
Why may we not hold that his worth consists as much in eloquence as
in reason? --Quintilian.
The civil man, and he who is truly wise, who does not devote himself
to idle disputes, but to the administration of the commonwealth
(from which those folks who are called philosophers have farthest
withdrawn themselves), will be glad to employ every available
oratorical means to reach his ends, having previously settled in his
own mind what ends are honorable. --_Id. _
If we count over all the epochs of life, we shall find its pains far
more numerous than its pleasures. . . . The first, that of babyhood, is
trying. The baby is hungry; the nurse sends it to sleep: it is
thirsty; she washes it: it wants to go to sleep; she takes a rattle
and makes a noise. When the child has escaped from the nurse, it is
taken hold of by the pedagogue, the physical trainer, the
grammar-master, the music-master, the drawing-master. In process of
time, there are added the arithmetic-master, the geometer, the
horse-breaker; he rises early; he has no chance for leisure. He
becomes a cadet; again he has to fear the drill-master, the physical
trainer, the fencing-master, the gymnasiarch. By all these he is
whipt, watched, throttled. He graduates from the cadets at twenty;
again he dreads and watches captain and general, etc. --Teles the
Stoic (B. C. 260).
The palmy period in the history of Rome is the period when she had
no literature. It was only when the Roman nationality began to
break up, and cosmopolitan Greek tendencies to lay hold upon the
people, that a literature began to appear. For this reason, Roman
literature from its very inception is, from absolute necessity,
filled with the Greek spirit, and stands in the most direct
opposition to the national spirit of the people. --Mommsen.
Quintiliane, vagae moderator summe juventae,
Gloria Romanae, Quintiliane, togae. --Martial.
Up to the time when Rome began to decline, the school education of her
youth was meagre in the extreme, consisting of reading, writing, and a
little law. All later education that was more than this was borrowed
from the Greeks. It was about the year 200 B. C. , at the close of the
Second Punic War, that their influence began clearly to show itself. The
severe Cato, who so cordially despised rhetoricians and philosophers,
learnt Greek in his old age and wrote, for the use of his son, a series
of manuals on ethics, rhetoric, medicine, military science, farming, and
law. At the same time Scipio Africanus spent his leisure hours in
practising gymnastics. From this time on, and just in proportion as Rome
lost her national character and became cosmopolitan, she more and more
adopted Greek manners, Greek religion (or irreligion), and Greek
education. When, finally, in B. C. 146, Greece became a Roman dependency,
it was strictly true that "Captive Greece took captive her rude
conqueror. " Thousands of Greek schoolmasters, rhetoricians,
philosophers, etc. , flocked to Rome, and, though attempts were made to
expel or suppress them, they held their place, for the simple reason
that the education they offered was a necessity of the time. Rome, the
mistress of the world, had either to become cosmopolitan or perish, and
she preferred the former alternative. She now, for the first time, began
to have a literature and to cultivate her own language. The studies
which she specially affected were (1) grammar, that is, literature, (2)
rhetoric, (3) philosophy, which corresponded to school, college, and
university education. The last, like music and geometry, was, for the
most part, an elegant accomplishment, rather than a serious study. The
physical sciences found little favor.
So long as Roman education was in the hands of Greeks, it was conducted
in the Greek language, and the authors read and discussed were Greek.
But the Romans, though willing enough to borrow Greek culture, were
unwilling to remain permanently in intellectual dependence upon a
conquered people, which in many respects they despised. Strong efforts,
therefore, were made to develop a national literature and a national
education. About the year B. C. 100, Lucius AElius Praeconinus Stilo, a
worthy and conservative Roman knight, opened a private class in Latin
grammar and rhetoric for young men of the upper classes, and from this
time on the direct influence of the Greeks, except in philosophy,
declined. Greek, indeed, continued to be spoken by all persons making
any pretensions to culture; but Latin became the language of Roman
literature. Among the pupils of Stilo were Varro and Cicero, who, along
with Julius Caesar, may be called the parents of the classical Latin
language, literature, and eloquence. Both Varro and Caesar wrote works on
grammar. A certain Cornificius (generally known as _Auctor ad
Herennium_) about this time wrote the first Latin treatise on Rhetoric;
but the great authority on the subject, in practice as well as theory,
was Cicero, who wrote no fewer than seven works on it. With Cicero's
death, and the transformation of the republic into an empire, eloquence
lost its noblest use, the defence of liberty. Rhetoric, nevertheless,
continued to be cultivated as a fine art and for forensic use, and,
indeed, was made to cover the whole of the higher education of youth. Of
this art the most celebrated teacher was Quintilian, "the supreme
director of giddy youth, the glory of the Roman toga" (_i. e. _ civil
manhood).
Quintilian was born about A. D. 35 in the Spanish city of Calagurris
(Calahorra), where, later, St. Dominic first saw the light. He was
educated in Rome, but afterwards returned to his native place and
established himself as a teacher of rhetoric. About A. D. 68, he was
invited by the Emperor Galba to settle in Rome, which he did, giving
instruction in rhetoric with unparalleled success for twenty years, and
drawing a salary from the government. At the end of that time, he
retired, rich and honored, into private life. It was after this that he
wrote the work which carried his fame down to posterity, his _Institutio
Oratorica_, or Education of the Orator. In the first book of this he
draws out a scheme of preparatory education for the family and the
school; the succeeding ten are devoted to rhetoric, and the last to the
character of the orator, whom he regards as identical with the
cultivated gentleman. It is only the first book that concerns the modern
student of education, and of this I shall now give a brief summary.
The first care of the parent, after the birth of a child, should be to
procure for it a nurse of good moral character and of cultivated speech.
A child that early learns bad habits in acting and speaking, rarely, if
ever, gets cured of them afterwards. Great care ought to be taken with
regard to the child's youthful companions, and to his pedagogue, who
ought to be of good character and well-informed. Its first language
ought to be Greek; but Latin ought to be begun early, and both to be
carefully cultivated. There is no need to follow the ordinary custom of
not allowing the child to learn to read or write before the close of its
seventh year. Much can very profitably be done by play long before that.
It is a mistake to teach children to repeat the alphabet before they
know the forms of the letters. These they may learn from tablets or
blocks. As soon as the letters are recognized, they ought to be written.
Following with a pen the forms of letters engraved on ivory tablets is a
good thing. After letters, syllables must be learnt--all the possible
syllables in both languages. After syllables come words, and after
words, sentences. In all this process, it is of the utmost importance to
secure thoroughness by avoiding haste. The child must not attempt words
till he can read and write all the syllables, nor sentences till he is
perfectly familiar with words. In reading sentences, he must learn to
run ahead, so that, while he is pronouncing one word with his lips, he
is recognizing others with his eye. The writing lesson should be
utilized in order to make the child acquainted with rare words and good
poetry. At this stage, his memory ought to be well exercised, and made
to lay up large stores of good literature for future use. At the same
time, his organs of speech should be well trained, by being made to
pronounce rapidly verses containing difficult combinations of sound. [5]
As soon as he is able, the child should go to school. Home education is
objectionable on many accounts, especially for boys intended for
orators. These, above all others, must learn sociability, tact, and
_esprit de corps_, and form school-friendships. Many moral lessons can
be learnt, and many motives employed, in the school, that are not
possible in the family. Among the latter is ambition, which "though
itself a vice, is the parent of many virtues," and therefore ought to be
freely used. Hardly any motive is so powerful.
When a boy is sent to school, his teacher's first business is to
investigate his character and capacity. The chief marks of ability are
memory and power of imitation. Imitation is not mimicry, which is always
a sign of low nature. Slowness, though objectionable, is better than
precocity, which should be discouraged in every way.
function of the fine arts is to act as cathartics for the different
passions. Art is ideal experience. Aristotle has left us a work on
tragedy that holds the place of honor in the literature of that subject
even at the present day.
DRAWING Aristotle recommends as a branch of study which develops taste
and judgment in regard to the products of industrial art; but he says it
should not be studied merely for its use in enabling us to choose these,
or even works of fine art, correctly, but rather because it enables us
to appreciate beauty of form. He adds: "The perpetual demand for what is
merely useful is anything but a mark of breadth or liberality. "
After thus briefly dismissing Letters and Drawing, Aristotle passes on
to Gymnastics and Music, and devotes considerable space to each.
Alongside GYMNASTICS, but distinguished from them, he names PHYSICAL
CULTURE (? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ), saying that, while the former gives character to
the acts of the body, the latter gives character to the body itself. The
aim of gymnastic training should be neither athleticism nor ferocity,
such as the Lacedaemonians cultivate in their children in the hope of
making them courageous. The former is detrimental to the beauty and
growth of the body; the latter misses its aim (see p. 41). "Hence
nobility, and not ferocity, ought to play the principal part among our
aims in physical education. For neither a wolf nor any other wild beast
ever braved a noble danger. To do that takes a noble man; and those who
allow their children to go too deep into such wild exercises, and so
leave them uninstructed in the necessary branches, make them, in point
of fact, mere professionals, useful for the ends of the State only in a
single requisite, and, as we have shown, inferior to others even in
that.
"There is a general agreement, then, as to the utility of Gymnastics and
to the manner in which they ought to be conducted. Up to the age of
puberty, children ought to be subjected only to the lighter exercises,
and all forced dieting and violent exertions eschewed, so that no
obstacle may be put to the growth of the body. It is no slight evidence
of the fact that violent exercise impedes growth, that there are not
more than two or three examples on record of persons' having been
victorious at the Olympic games both as boys and men. The explanation of
this is, that the others were robbed of their strength in their boyhood
by the training they had to undergo. " After the advent of puberty, for a
period of three years, the young men are apparently to have very little
gymnastics, and to devote themselves assiduously to letters, music, and
drawing. The period following this is to be devoted to severe exercise
and strict dieting, mental exertion being reduced to a minimum; "for the
two kinds of exertion naturally work against each other, bodily exertion
impeding the intellect, and intellectual exertion the body. "
On MUSIC, as a branch of study, we have almost a disquisition from the
pen of Aristotle. The question that first occupies him is, What is the
use of music? Is it a recreation, an occupation for cultured leisure, or
a gymnastic for the soul? It is all three, he replies, and would deserve
study for the sake of any one of them. At the same time, its chief value
in education lies in its third use. Music imparts a mental habit; about
that there can be no doubt. For example, the songs of Olympus "render
the soul enthusiastic, and enthusiasm is an affection of the soul's
habit. " Aristotle reasons in this way: Music is capable of affecting us
with all kinds of pleasures and pains. But moral worth at bottom
consists in finding pleasure in what is noble, and pain in what is
ignoble, that is, in a correct distribution of affection. But in good
music the strains that give pleasure are attached to the ideas that are
noble, and the strains that give pain to the ideas that are ignoble;
hence, by a natural association, the pleasures and pains which we find
in the music attach themselves to the ideas which it accompanies. "There
is nothing that we ought to learn and practice so assiduously as the art
of judging correctly and of taking delight in gentlemanly bearing and
noble deeds. And apart from the natural manifestations of the passions
themselves, there is nothing in which we can find anger, gentleness,
courage, self-control, and their opposites, as well as the other moods,
so well represented as in rhythms and songs. This we all know by
experience; for the moods of our souls change when we listen to such
strains. But the practice which we thus receive from rhythms and songs,
in rejoicing and suffering properly, brings us very near being affected
in the same way by the realities themselves. " Here Aristotle draws a
distinction between music, which appeals to the ear, and the arts that
appeal to the other senses, or rather to sight; for no art appeals to
touch, taste, or smell. In the objects of art that appeal to the eye, we
have expressions of passions only in so far as they affect the body,
whereas in music we have their direct expression passing from soul to
soul. Yet persons are deeply moved by statuary and painting, so much so
that young people ought not to be allowed to see such works as those of
Pauson. How much more then must they be moved by music! "That they are
so is quite plain; for there is such an obvious difference of nature
between harmonies that the listeners are affected in entirely different
ways by them. By some they are thrown into a kind of mournful or grave
mood, _e. g. _, by what is known as the mixed Lydian; by others a
sentimental turn is given to their thoughts, for example, by languid
harmonies; while there is another kind that especially produces balance
of feeling and collectedness. This effect is confined to the Doric
harmonies. The Phrygian harmonies rouse enthusiasm. These are correct
results arrived at by those thinkers who have devoted their attention to
this branch of education,--results based upon actual experience. What is
true of harmonies is true also of rhythms. Some of these have a steady,
others a mobile, character; of the latter, again, some have coarse,
others refined, movements. From all these considerations, it is obvious
that music is calculated to impart a certain character to the habit of
the soul, whence it follows that it ought to be brought to bear upon
children, and instruction given them in it. Musical instruction, indeed,
is admirably adapted to their stage of development; for young people,
just because they are young, are not fond of persisting in anything that
does not give them pleasure, and music is one of the pleasant things.
There seems even to be a certain kinship between harmonies and rhythms
[and the soul]; whence many philosophers hold that the soul is a
harmony, or that it has harmony. "
Aristotle, having thus shown that music is a proper subject of
instruction, goes on to inquire "whether children ought, or ought not,
to be taught music, by being taught to sing and play themselves? " His
answer is well worth quoting at full length. "It is quite evident," he
says, "that music will have a very much greater effect in moulding
people, if they take part in the performance themselves. Indeed, it is
difficult, or even impossible, for those who do not learn to do things
themselves to be good judges of them when they are done. At the same
time, children must have some amusement, and we may look upon Archytas'
rattle, which they give to children to spend their energies upon, and to
prevent them from breaking things about the house, as a good invention.
It is useless to try to keep a young creature quiet, and, just as the
rattle is the proper thing for babies, so musical instruction is the
proper rattle for older children. It follows that children ought to be
taught music by being made to produce it themselves, and it is not
difficult to determine either what is suitable and unsuitable for
different ages, or to answer those people who pretend that the study of
music is something ungentlemanly. In the first place, since people must,
to some extent, learn things themselves, in order to form a correct
judgment about them, they ought to learn the practice of them while they
are young, so that, when they grow up, they may be able to dispense with
it, and yet, through their early studies, be able to judge of them
correctly and take the proper delight in them. To the objections which
some people raise, that music turns people into craftsmen, it is not
hard to find an answer, if we consider to what extent the practice of
music ought to be required of children who are being reared in the civic
virtues, what songs and rhythms they ought to learn, and what
instruments they ought to use--for this makes a difference. Herein lies
the solution of the difficulty. The fact is, there is nothing to prevent
certain kinds of music from accomplishing the end proposed.
"It is, of course, obvious that the acquisition of music ought not to be
allowed to interfere with future usefulness, to impart an ignoble habit
to the body, or render it unfit for civic duties,--either for the
immediate learning, or the subsequent exercise, of them. All the
beneficial results of musical education would be attained, if, instead
of going into a laborious practice, such as is required to prepare
people for public exhibitions, if instead of trying to perform those
marvellous feats and _tours de force_ which have lately become popular
at public exhibitions, and passed from them into education, the children
were to learn just enough to enable them to take delight in noble songs
and rhythms, instead of finding a mere undiscriminating pleasure in
anything that calls itself music, as some of the lower animals and the
bulk of slaves and children do. If so much be admitted, we need be in no
doubt respecting our choice of instruments. " Aristotle specially
condemns the flute, and tells how it came into use, and how it was
afterwards discarded, as exerting an immoral influence. "In the same way
were condemned many of the older instruments, as the pectis, the
barbitus, and those which tended to produce sensual pleasure in the
hearers--also the septangle, the triangle, the sambuca, and all those
requiring scientific manipulation. " . . . "We would, then, condemn all
professional instruction in the nature and use of these instruments.
'Professional' we call all instruction that looks toward public
exhibitions. The person who receives this pursues his art, not with a
view to his own culture, but to afford a pleasure, and that a vulgar
one, to other people. For this reason we hold that such practice is not
proper for free men, but savors of meniality and handicraft. The aim,
indeed, for which they undertake this task is an ignoble one. For
audiences, being vulgar, are wont to change their music, and so react
upon the character of the professionals who cater to their tastes, and
this again has its influence upon their bodies, on account of the
motions which they are obliged to go through. "
Since different kinds of music have different effects upon the habit of
the soul, Aristotle next inquires what kinds are suitable for education.
"We accept," he says, "the classification made by certain philosophers,
who divide songs into ethical, practical, and enthusiastic, assigning to
them the different harmonies respectively, and we affirm that music is
to be employed, not for one useful purpose alone, but for several;
_first_, for instruction; _second_, for purgation; and _third_, for
cultured leisure, for relaxation, and for recreation. It is obvious that
all harmonies ought to be employed, though not all in the same way. The
most ethical (_i. e. _ those that most affect the _ethos_ or habit of the
soul) must be employed for instruction; the practical and enthusiastic
for entertainments by professional performers. For those emotions which
manifest themselves powerfully in some souls are potentially present in
all, with a difference in degree merely, _e. g. _, pity, fear, and also
enthusiasm, a form of excitement by which certain persons are very
liable to be possessed. If we watch the effects of the sacred songs, we
shall see that those persons are restored to a normal condition under
the influence of those that solemnize the soul, just as if they had
undergone medical treatment and purgation. The same thing must happen to
all persons predisposed to pity, fear, or emotion generally, as well as
to others in so far as they allow themselves to come within the reach of
any of these; for them all there must exist some form or another of
purgation and relief accompanied with pleasure. In this way those
'purgative' songs afford a harmless pleasure, and it is for this reason
that there ought to be a legal enactment to the effect that performers
giving public concerts should employ such harmonies and such songs. The
fact is, since there are two kinds of public, the one free and
cultivated, the other rude and vulgar, composed of mechanics, laborers,
and the like, there must be entertainments and exhibitions to afford
pastime to the latter as well as the former. As the souls of these
people are, so to speak, perverted from the normal habit, so also among
the harmonies there are abnormities, and among songs there are the
strained and discolored; and each individual derives pleasure from that
which is germane to his nature. For this reason performers must be
allowed to produce this kind of music, for the benefit of this portion
of the public.
"For the purposes of instruction, as has been said, we must employ
ethical songs and the corresponding harmonies. Such a harmony is the
Doric, as has already been remarked. We must likewise admit any other
species of music that may have approved itself to such persons as have
devoted attention to philosophic discussion and musical education. . . . In
respect to the Doric harmony, it is universally admitted to be, of all
harmonies, the most sedate, expressive of the most manly character.
Moreover, since our principle is, that the mean between extremes is
desirable and ought to be pursued, and the Doric harmony holds this
relation to other harmonies, it follows that Doric songs should be
taught to young people in preference to any other. Two things, however,
must be kept in view, the practicable and the befitting. I mean that we
must discuss what is specially practicable for different people, as well
as what is befitting. This, indeed, will depend upon the different
periods of life. For example, it would not be easy for persons in the
decline of life to sing the intense harmonies; for them nature suggests
the languid kinds. For this reason those musicians are right who blame
Socrates for having condemned the languid harmonies, as subjects of
instruction, on the ground that they were intoxicating. (By this term he
did not mean inebriating, in the sense that wine is inebriating,--for
wine renders boisterous rather than anything else,--but languid. ) The
truth is, with an eye to the future, to old age, instruction ought to be
given in harmonies and songs of this sort. Moreover, if there is any
harmony suitable for youth, as tending to refine as well as to instruct,
as is the case notably with the Lydian, it, of course, ought to be
adopted. It is clear, then, that there are three distinct things to be
considered in reference to education, avoidance of extremes,
practicability, and appropriateness. "
So much for the four branches of study which, according to Aristotle,
ought to compose the curriculum of youth. We have noticed that, in his
extant works, he says little about Letters and Drawing. Just what
branches the former was supposed to include, he has nowhere told us
directly; but I think there can be little doubt that he gave a place to
Grammar, Rhetoric (including Poetics), Dialectic, Arithmetic, Geometry,
and Astronomy, which, along with Music, make up the Seven Liberal Arts,
the _Trivium_ and _Quadrivium_ of the Middle Ages. This curriculum
underwent considerable changes at different times, as we can see from
Philo, Teles, Sextus Empiricus, St. Augustine, and others; but in
Martianus Capella it returned to its original form, and in this
dominated education for a thousand years. We might perhaps draw out
Aristotle's programme of secondary education thus:--
{ {Physical {Dancing (see p. 82) }Before
{ { Training {Deportment } puberty.
{ {
{ { {Running }
{ { {Leaping }Before
{_Practical_ { {Javelin-casting } puberty.
{ { {Discus-throwing }
{ { {
{ {Gymnastics {Wrestling }
{ { {Shooting }After
STUDIES: { {Marching } puberty.
{_Creative_ {Music {Drilling }
{ {Drawing {Riding }
{
{ {Grammar }
{ {Rhetoric }Before puberty.
{_Theoretic_ {Dialectic }
{ {
{ {Arithmetic }
{ {Geometry }After puberty.
{ {Astronomy }
CHAPTER VII
EDUCATION AFTER TWENTY-ONE
Be assured that happiness has its source, not in extensive
possessions, but in a right disposition of the soul. Even in the
case of the body, no one would call it fortunate for being arrayed
in splendid garments; but one would do so, if it had health, and
were nobly developed, even without such appendages. In the same
manner, we ought to ascribe happiness to the soul only when it is
cultivated, and to call a man happy only if he possesses such a
soul, not if he is splendidly attired outwardly, but has no worth of
his own. . . . For those whose souls are ill-conditioned, neither
wealth, nor power, nor beauty is a blessing; on the contrary, the
more excessive these conditions are, the more widely and deeply do
they injure their possessors, being unaccompanied with
right-mindedness. --Aristotle.
Zeno used to tell a story about Crates, to this effect: One day
Crates was sitting in a shoemaker's shop, reading aloud Aristotle's
_Exhortation_ (to Philosophy), addressed to Themison, king of the
Cyprians, in which the king is reminded that he possesses, in an
exceptional degree, all the conditions of philosophy, superabundant
wealth, and high position. As he was reading, the shoemaker, without
interrupting his sewing, listened to him, until at last Crates said:
"Philiscus, I think I will write an _Exhortation_ for you; for I see
you have more of the conditions of philosophy than Aristotle has
enumerated. "--Teles.
At the age of twenty-one, those young men who have successfully
completed the State system of training become citizens or politicians,
and begin to exercise the functions of such. These are of two kinds, (1)
active, practical, or executive, and (2) deliberative, theoretical, or
legislative. As action must, on the one hand, be vigorous, and, on the
other, guided by deliberation, which requires large experience, the
functions of the State must be so arranged that the active duties fall
to the young and robust, the deliberative to the elderly and mature. The
distinguishing virtue of the former is fortitude, with endurance or
patience; that of the latter philosophy. Both equally have self-control
and justice. In this way does Aristotle distribute Plato's four cardinal
virtues.
When young men first become citizens, they are assigned to posts of
active service, civil and military, and thus study practical
philosophy--Ethics and Politics--in a practical way. As they grow older,
they gradually rise to posts demanding less practice and more thought,
until at last they are admitted to the deliberative body, or council,
when their active duties cease, and they are able to devote themselves
to Speculative Philosophy or Theoretics. These men have now reached the
end of life, as far as this world is concerned. They spend their days in
cultured leisure, and the contemplation of divine things (? ? ? ? ? ? ). The
very oldest of them, those who are most conversant with divine things,
are chosen as priests, so that they may, as it were, live with the gods,
and these be worthily served. Thus gradually, almost insensibly, they
pass from the world of time to that of eternity; from the imperfect
activity of practice, whose end is beyond itself, to the perfect energy
of contemplation, which is self-sufficient and the life of God. In this
way Aristotle settles the vexed question with regard to the
compatibility and relative value of the practical and the contemplative
life. They are necessary complements of each other. Practice is the
realization of what contemplation discovers in the pure energy of God,
revealing itself in the world. Thus the practical life of man glides
gradually into the contemplative life of God.
Such is the highest view of man's destiny, and the way thither, that the
Greeks ever reached, and it is in many ways a most attractive and
inspiring one. Its defects are the defects of all that is Greek. They
are two: (1) its ideal is intellectual and aesthetic,--a coordinated,
harmonious whole, whereof the individual is but a part: not moral or
religious--a self-surrender of the individual to the supreme will;
consequently, (2) it does not provide for every human being, as such,
but only for a small, select number, the fruit of the whole. Its ethics
are institutional not personal, and, indeed, the Greek never arrived at
a distant conception of personality, that being possible only through
the moral consciousness, which is its core. It seeks to find happiness
in a correlation and balancing of individual selves, not in the
independent conformity of each self to a supreme self. Hence it was
that, with all its marvellous grasp and manly prudence, the ideal of
Aristotle proved powerless to restore the moral unity of man, until it
was absorbed in a higher.
BOOK IV
THE HELLENISTIC PERIOD
(B. C. 338-A. D. 313)
CHAPTER I
FROM ETHNIC TO COSMOPOLITAN LIFE
'Tis Greece, but living Greece no more. --Byron.
Most glorious of all the Undying, many-named, girt round with awe!
Jove, author of Nature, applying to all things the rudder of law--
Hail! Hail! for it justly rejoices the races whose life is a span
To lift unto Thee their voices--the Author and Framer of Man.
For we are Thy sons; Thou didst give us the symbols of speech at our
birth,
Alone of the things that live, and mortal move upon earth.
Wherefore Thou shalt find me extolling and ever singing Thy praise;
Since Thee the great Universe, rolling on its path round the world,
obeys:--
Obeys Thee, wherever Thou guidest, and gladly is bound in Thy bands,
So great is the power Thou confidest, with strong, invincible hands,
To Thy mighty, ministering servant, the bolt of the thunder, that
flies,
Two-edged, like a sword and fervent, that is living and never dies.
All nature, in fear and dismay, doth quake in the path of its stroke,
What time Thou preparest the way for the one Word Thy lips have spoke,
Which blends with lights smaller and greater, which pervadeth and
thrilleth all things,
So great is Thy power and Thy nature--in the Universe Highest of Kings!
On earth, of all deeds that are done, O God! there is none without
Thee.
In the holy aether not one, nor one on the face of the sea;
Save the deeds that evil men, driven by their own blind folly, have
planned;
But things that have grown uneven are made even again by Thy hand;
And things unseemly grow seemly, the unfriendly are friendly to Thee;
For so good and evil supremely Thou hast blended in one by decree.
For all Thy decree is one ever--a Word that endureth for aye,
Which mortals, rebellious, endeavor to flee from and shun to obey--
Ill-fated, that, worn with proneness for the lordship of goodly things,
Neither hear nor behold, in its Oneness, the law that divinity brings;
Which men with reason obeying, might attain unto glorious life,
No longer aimlessly straying in the paths of ignoble strife.
There are men with a zeal unblest, that are wearied with following of
fame,
And men, with a baser quest, that are turned to lucre and shame.
There are men, too, that pamper and pleasure the flesh with delicate
stings:
All these desire beyond measure to be other than all these things.
Great Jove, all-giver, dark-clouded, great Lord of the thunderbolt's
breath!
Deliver the men that are shrouded in ignorance, dismal as death.
O Father! dispel from their souls the darkness, and grant them the
light
Of Reason, Thy stay, when the whole wide world Thou rulest with might,
That we, being honored, may honor Thy name with the music of hymns,
Extolling the deeds of the Donor, unceasing, as rightly beseems
Mankind; for no worthier trust is awarded to God or to man
Than forever to glory with justice in the law that endures and is
One. --Cleanthes.
The distinguishing characteristics of Hellenic education were unity,
comprehensiveness, proportion, and aimfulness. It extended to the whole
human being, striving to bring the various elements of his nature into
complete harmony in view of an end. This end was the State, in which the
individual citizen was expected to find a field for all his activities.
We have seen how, while conservative Sparta clung to this ideal to the
last, and rigorously excluded those influences which tended to undermine
it, Athens, by freely admitting these, gradually broke down the fair
proportion between bodily and mental education, in an excessive devotion
to the latter, and so came to make a distinction between the man and the
citizen. The result was an epidemic of individualism which threatened
the existence of all that was Hellenic. Against this destructive power
the noblest men in the nation, an AEschylus, an Aristophanes, a Pericles,
a Socrates, a Xenophon, a Plato, an Aristotle, fought with all the might
of worth and intellect. Some of them sought once more to remerge the man
in the citizen by means of a despotism and the suppression of all
intellectual pursuits; others, seeing clearly the impossibility of this,
tried so to define the sphere of the individual that it should not
encroach upon that of the citizen, but stand in harmonious relation to
it. They did this by placing the sphere of the individual above that of
the State, and, inasmuch as the former was a purely intellectual sphere,
they found themselves driven to conclude, and to lay down, that the
contemplative life is the end and consummation of the practical, that
the citizen and the State exist only for the sake of the individual.
They were very far indeed from seeing all the implications of this
conclusion: these showed themselves only in the sequel; but the fact is,
that the principle of the separation between the man and the citizen,
and the assignment of the place of honor to the former, proved at once
the destroying angel of Hellenism and the animating spirit of the
civilization which took its place. If we look closely at the schemes of
Plato and Aristotle, we shall see that they try to render innocuous the
spirit of individualism by exhausting its activities in intellectual
relations to the divine, offering it heaven, if it will only consent to
relinquish to the political spirit its earthly claims. They practically
said: Man, in all his relations to his fellow-men here below, is a
citizen; only in relation to God is he an individual. The history of the
last two thousand years is but a commentary on this text. From the day
when the master-mind of the Greek world credited man's nature with a
divine element having a supreme activity of its own, European thought
and life have been agitated by three questions, and largely shaped by
the answers given to them: (1) What is the nature of the divine element
in man? (2) In what form or institution shall that element find
expression and realization? (3) How shall that institution relate itself
to the State? And they have not yet been definitely answered.
Principles that are to move the world are never the result of mere
abstract thought, but always of a crisis or epoch in human affairs. And
so it was in the present case. The separation between the man and the
citizen was accomplished in fact, before it was formulated in theory. On
the other hand, the theory received emphasis from the events which
accompanied and followed its promulgation. The battle of Chaeronea, which
took place sixteen years before Aristotle's death, by putting an end
forever to the free civic life of Greece, removed the very conditions
under which the old ideal could realize itself, and forced men to seek
a sphere of activity, and to form associations, outside of the State.
The State, indeed, still maintained a semblance of life, and the old
education, with its literature, gymnastics, and music still continued;
but the spirit of both was gone. The State was gradually replaced by the
philosophic schools, while intellectual training tended more and more to
concentrate itself upon rhetoric, that art which enables the individual
to shine before his fellows, and to gain wealth or public preferment.
From this time on, the spiritual life of Greece found expression in the
pretentious, empty individualism of the rhetorician, the lineal
descendant of the sophists, and in the philosophical sects, which
embodied the spirit of Socrates, their opponent.
The founder of the rhetorical schools may be said to have been
Isocrates, who, after being a pupil of Socrates', turned against the
philosophic tendency, and championed elegant philistinism. The aim of
these schools was to turn out clever men of the world, thoroughly
acquainted with popular opinions and motives, and capable of expressing
themselves glibly, sententiously, and persuasively on any and every
subject. They usually made no profession of imparting profound learning
or eliciting philosophic thought: indeed, they despised both; but they
did seek to impart such an amount of ordinary knowledge as to place
their pupils in the chief current of the popular thought of their time.
They thus became the bearers of practical education among a people who,
having lost their political life without finding any higher, sought to
obtain satisfaction in social intercourse. For hundreds of years they
exerted an enormous influence, and, indeed, at certain times and places
were formidable rivals of the philosophic schools.
The first man of Greek race who attempted to found a sect or school
outside the State was Pythagoras, and there can be no doubt that all
subsequent schools were in some degree modelled upon his. It is true
that the Pythagorean school had been broken up and dispersed long before
the days of Plato and Aristotle (see p. 54); nevertheless, his
followers, scattered over Greece, had carried with them the ideas and
principles of their master, and now that Athens had fallen into the
condition against which the Pythagorean discipline had been a protest,
these ideas found a ready response in the hearts of those men whom the
social life of the time could not satisfy. Hence the schools of Plato
and Aristotle, which had originally been mere educational institutions,
turned, even during the lifetime of the latter, into sects (? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ,
heresies, as they were called later on), with definite sets of
non-political principles, in accordance with which their members tried
to shape their lives. It cannot be said that these two schools were in
any high degree successful, and the reasons were that they were too
purely intellectual, that they made no striking revolt against political
life, and that they called for a type of man not easy to find. But,
shortly after the death of Aristotle, there arose, almost
contemporaneously, two other schools, which exerted an influence, deep
and wide, for over six hundred years. These were the Epicurean and the
Stoic. Widely as these differed in respect to means, they sought the
same end, namely, personal independence, and they sought it by
conformity to laws imposed by no human legislator, but by nature. The
former took the law of the senses, the latter the law of the spirit, for
its guide; and, by a strange contradiction, while the former championed
free will, the latter professed fatalism. These four schools were the
only ones that ever met with extensive patronage in Athens, and with the
exception of the Academic, they never diverged far from the principles
of their founders. In the time of Marcus Aurelius, after Athens had been
for ages a mere Roman university, they were placed under State
patronage, and supported by public funds, and there is no record to show
that this was discontinued until they were finally closed by the Emperor
Justinian in A. D. 529.
Not long after the death of Aristotle, Athens was supplanted by
Alexandria, as the centre of Greek influence. Here the rhetorical and
philosophic schools established themselves, and could soon boast a
numerous discipleship. This, however, was no longer exclusively, or even
mainly, Greek, but was recruited from all the nations of the known
world, more especially those of the East. Phoenicians, Syrians, Jews,
Persians, etc. , not to speak of Egyptians, now became students of Greek
philosophy, and members of philosophic sects, whose members not only
studied together, but often, to a large extent, lived together in
communities. About the year B. C. 300 were founded the famous Museum and
Library of Alexandria--the first university and the first public library
in the world. Round these the various sects gathered, to study, to
discuss, and to exchange opinions. Nor was it Greek thought alone that
engaged their attention. The opinions and beliefs of Egypt and the East
came in for a share, and, in the end, for the largest share. Nor is this
wonderful, when we consider the direction that thought and life were
then taking.
We have already seen that, as Greek civic life lost the conditions of
its existence, the thoughtful portion of the people came more and more
to seek for life-principles in the supersensible world of intellect. The
nature of this world Plato and Aristotle had done their best to reveal.
But the event proved that neither an ordered host of ideas commanded by
the Good, nor a Supreme Intelligence served by a host of lower
intelligences, could yield the principles which the life of the time
demanded; and thus we find the philosophers of Alexandria striving to
people their intelligible world with forms drawn from all the religions
of the East, including Judaism. Thus there grew up the various forms of
Alexandrine philosophy, compounds of Greek thought and Oriental
religion. On the basis of these again were organized, at the same time,
various forms of social life, all tending more or less to religious
communism. Hence came the Essenes (see p. 59), the Therapeuts, the
Neopythagoreans, and the Neoplatonists, all of whom, notwithstanding
certain shortcomings, did much to purify life, and to pave the way for a
higher civilization.
In B. C. 146, Greece, and, in B. C. 30, Egypt, fell into the hands of the
Romans and thenceforth formed provinces of their empire. Athens and
Alexandria were now Roman university-towns, while Rome became more and
more the diffusing centre of Greek and Oriental influence. It would be
impossible, in a work like the present, to give even a sketch of the
forms which education assumed in these three great centres, or in the
world that revolved round them, in the six hundred and more years that
passed between the loss of Greek autonomy and the triumph of
Christianity. We shall merely endeavor to give a general notion of its
two chief tendencies, which, as we saw, were towards rhetoric and
philosophy; and we shall do this in connection with the names of two
men, who may be regarded as respectively typical of the two tendencies,
Quintilian the rhetorician, and Plotinus the philosopher. By doing so we
shall pave the way for the consideration of the Rise of the Christian
Schools.
CHAPTER II
QUINTILIAN AND RHETORICAL EDUCATION
Rhetoric is the counterpart of Dialectic. Both have for their
subjects those things which, in a certain way, are matters of common
knowledge, and belong to no definite science. Hence everybody, in
some degree, is gifted with them; for everybody, to some extent,
tries to examine and sustain an argument, to defend himself, and to
accuse others. --Aristotle.
There is a certain political theory which is made up of many great
things. A large and important part of it is artificial eloquence,
which they call rhetoric. --Cicero.
Every duty which tends to preserve human relations and human society
must be assigned a higher place than any that stops short with
knowledge and science. --_Id. _
Zeno, having pressed his fingers together and closed his fist, said
that was like Dialectic; having spread them out and opened his hand,
he said Eloquence was like his palm there. --_Id. _
To act considerately is of more moment than to think wisely. --_Id. _
I pass to the pleasure of oratorical eloquence, the delight of which
one enjoys not at any one moment, but almost every day and every
hour. --Tacitus.
Grammar is an experimental knowledge of the usages of language as
generally current among poets and prose writers. It is divided into
six parts, (1) trained reading with due regard to prosody [_i. e. _
aspiration, accentuation, quantity, emphasis, metre, etc. ], (2)
exposition according to poetic figures [literary criticism], (3)
ready statement of dialectical peculiarities and allusions
[philology, geography, history, mythology], (4) discovery of
etymologies, (5) accurate account of analogies [accidence and
syntax], (6) criticism of poetical productions, which is the noblest
part of the grammatic art [ethics, politics, strategy,
etc. ]. --Dionysius Thrax.
Reading is the rendering of poetic or prose productions without
stumbling or hesitancy. It must be done with due regard to
expression, prosody, and pauses. From the expression we learn the
merit of the piece, from the prosody the art of the reader, and from
the pauses the meaning intended to be conveyed. In this way we read
tragedy heroically, comedy conversationally, elegiacs thrillingly,
epics sustainedly, lyrics musically, and dirges softly and
plaintively. Any reading done without due observance of these rules
degrades the merits of the poets and makes the habits of readers
ridiculous. --_Id. _
Some arts are common, others liberal. . . . The liberal arts, which
some call the logical arts, are astronomy, geometry, music,
philosophy, medicine, grammar, rhetoric. --_Scholia to Dionysius
Thrax. _
It is obvious that man excels the other animals in worth and speech:
Why may we not hold that his worth consists as much in eloquence as
in reason? --Quintilian.
The civil man, and he who is truly wise, who does not devote himself
to idle disputes, but to the administration of the commonwealth
(from which those folks who are called philosophers have farthest
withdrawn themselves), will be glad to employ every available
oratorical means to reach his ends, having previously settled in his
own mind what ends are honorable. --_Id. _
If we count over all the epochs of life, we shall find its pains far
more numerous than its pleasures. . . . The first, that of babyhood, is
trying. The baby is hungry; the nurse sends it to sleep: it is
thirsty; she washes it: it wants to go to sleep; she takes a rattle
and makes a noise. When the child has escaped from the nurse, it is
taken hold of by the pedagogue, the physical trainer, the
grammar-master, the music-master, the drawing-master. In process of
time, there are added the arithmetic-master, the geometer, the
horse-breaker; he rises early; he has no chance for leisure. He
becomes a cadet; again he has to fear the drill-master, the physical
trainer, the fencing-master, the gymnasiarch. By all these he is
whipt, watched, throttled. He graduates from the cadets at twenty;
again he dreads and watches captain and general, etc. --Teles the
Stoic (B. C. 260).
The palmy period in the history of Rome is the period when she had
no literature. It was only when the Roman nationality began to
break up, and cosmopolitan Greek tendencies to lay hold upon the
people, that a literature began to appear. For this reason, Roman
literature from its very inception is, from absolute necessity,
filled with the Greek spirit, and stands in the most direct
opposition to the national spirit of the people. --Mommsen.
Quintiliane, vagae moderator summe juventae,
Gloria Romanae, Quintiliane, togae. --Martial.
Up to the time when Rome began to decline, the school education of her
youth was meagre in the extreme, consisting of reading, writing, and a
little law. All later education that was more than this was borrowed
from the Greeks. It was about the year 200 B. C. , at the close of the
Second Punic War, that their influence began clearly to show itself. The
severe Cato, who so cordially despised rhetoricians and philosophers,
learnt Greek in his old age and wrote, for the use of his son, a series
of manuals on ethics, rhetoric, medicine, military science, farming, and
law. At the same time Scipio Africanus spent his leisure hours in
practising gymnastics. From this time on, and just in proportion as Rome
lost her national character and became cosmopolitan, she more and more
adopted Greek manners, Greek religion (or irreligion), and Greek
education. When, finally, in B. C. 146, Greece became a Roman dependency,
it was strictly true that "Captive Greece took captive her rude
conqueror. " Thousands of Greek schoolmasters, rhetoricians,
philosophers, etc. , flocked to Rome, and, though attempts were made to
expel or suppress them, they held their place, for the simple reason
that the education they offered was a necessity of the time. Rome, the
mistress of the world, had either to become cosmopolitan or perish, and
she preferred the former alternative. She now, for the first time, began
to have a literature and to cultivate her own language. The studies
which she specially affected were (1) grammar, that is, literature, (2)
rhetoric, (3) philosophy, which corresponded to school, college, and
university education. The last, like music and geometry, was, for the
most part, an elegant accomplishment, rather than a serious study. The
physical sciences found little favor.
So long as Roman education was in the hands of Greeks, it was conducted
in the Greek language, and the authors read and discussed were Greek.
But the Romans, though willing enough to borrow Greek culture, were
unwilling to remain permanently in intellectual dependence upon a
conquered people, which in many respects they despised. Strong efforts,
therefore, were made to develop a national literature and a national
education. About the year B. C. 100, Lucius AElius Praeconinus Stilo, a
worthy and conservative Roman knight, opened a private class in Latin
grammar and rhetoric for young men of the upper classes, and from this
time on the direct influence of the Greeks, except in philosophy,
declined. Greek, indeed, continued to be spoken by all persons making
any pretensions to culture; but Latin became the language of Roman
literature. Among the pupils of Stilo were Varro and Cicero, who, along
with Julius Caesar, may be called the parents of the classical Latin
language, literature, and eloquence. Both Varro and Caesar wrote works on
grammar. A certain Cornificius (generally known as _Auctor ad
Herennium_) about this time wrote the first Latin treatise on Rhetoric;
but the great authority on the subject, in practice as well as theory,
was Cicero, who wrote no fewer than seven works on it. With Cicero's
death, and the transformation of the republic into an empire, eloquence
lost its noblest use, the defence of liberty. Rhetoric, nevertheless,
continued to be cultivated as a fine art and for forensic use, and,
indeed, was made to cover the whole of the higher education of youth. Of
this art the most celebrated teacher was Quintilian, "the supreme
director of giddy youth, the glory of the Roman toga" (_i. e. _ civil
manhood).
Quintilian was born about A. D. 35 in the Spanish city of Calagurris
(Calahorra), where, later, St. Dominic first saw the light. He was
educated in Rome, but afterwards returned to his native place and
established himself as a teacher of rhetoric. About A. D. 68, he was
invited by the Emperor Galba to settle in Rome, which he did, giving
instruction in rhetoric with unparalleled success for twenty years, and
drawing a salary from the government. At the end of that time, he
retired, rich and honored, into private life. It was after this that he
wrote the work which carried his fame down to posterity, his _Institutio
Oratorica_, or Education of the Orator. In the first book of this he
draws out a scheme of preparatory education for the family and the
school; the succeeding ten are devoted to rhetoric, and the last to the
character of the orator, whom he regards as identical with the
cultivated gentleman. It is only the first book that concerns the modern
student of education, and of this I shall now give a brief summary.
The first care of the parent, after the birth of a child, should be to
procure for it a nurse of good moral character and of cultivated speech.
A child that early learns bad habits in acting and speaking, rarely, if
ever, gets cured of them afterwards. Great care ought to be taken with
regard to the child's youthful companions, and to his pedagogue, who
ought to be of good character and well-informed. Its first language
ought to be Greek; but Latin ought to be begun early, and both to be
carefully cultivated. There is no need to follow the ordinary custom of
not allowing the child to learn to read or write before the close of its
seventh year. Much can very profitably be done by play long before that.
It is a mistake to teach children to repeat the alphabet before they
know the forms of the letters. These they may learn from tablets or
blocks. As soon as the letters are recognized, they ought to be written.
Following with a pen the forms of letters engraved on ivory tablets is a
good thing. After letters, syllables must be learnt--all the possible
syllables in both languages. After syllables come words, and after
words, sentences. In all this process, it is of the utmost importance to
secure thoroughness by avoiding haste. The child must not attempt words
till he can read and write all the syllables, nor sentences till he is
perfectly familiar with words. In reading sentences, he must learn to
run ahead, so that, while he is pronouncing one word with his lips, he
is recognizing others with his eye. The writing lesson should be
utilized in order to make the child acquainted with rare words and good
poetry. At this stage, his memory ought to be well exercised, and made
to lay up large stores of good literature for future use. At the same
time, his organs of speech should be well trained, by being made to
pronounce rapidly verses containing difficult combinations of sound. [5]
As soon as he is able, the child should go to school. Home education is
objectionable on many accounts, especially for boys intended for
orators. These, above all others, must learn sociability, tact, and
_esprit de corps_, and form school-friendships. Many moral lessons can
be learnt, and many motives employed, in the school, that are not
possible in the family. Among the latter is ambition, which "though
itself a vice, is the parent of many virtues," and therefore ought to be
freely used. Hardly any motive is so powerful.
When a boy is sent to school, his teacher's first business is to
investigate his character and capacity. The chief marks of ability are
memory and power of imitation. Imitation is not mimicry, which is always
a sign of low nature. Slowness, though objectionable, is better than
precocity, which should be discouraged in every way.
