No More Learning

All the members of the ruled class are serfs or public slaves,
working, not for themselves, but for their masters. Aristotle holds that
they ought to be barbarians of different races, and not Greeks.

The architecture of the city will in some degree correspond to this
social division. It will naturally fall into three divisions, military,
religious, and civil. First of all, a city must have walls. These should
have towers and bastions at proper distances, and be made as attractive
as possible. The temples of the gods and the offices of the chief
magistrates should, if possible, stand together on a fortified citadel,
conspicuously dominating the entire city. Adjoining this ought to be the
Freemen's Square, reserved entirely for the ruling class, and
unencumbered by business or wares of any sort. Here ought to stand the
gymnasium for the older citizens, who will thus be brought into contact
with the magistrates and inspired with "true reverence and freemen's
fear. " The market-square must be placed so as to be convenient for the
reception of goods both from sea and land. This comprehends all the
civil architecture except the mess-halls, of which we shall better speak
in the next paragraph.

The mode of life of the ruling class will necessarily differ widely from
that of the ruled. About the latter Aristotle has nothing to say. He
hopes for little from that class beyond the possibility of being held in
contented subordination. As it has no political life, all that is left
to it is the life of the family. The ruling class, on the contrary,
live to a large extent in public, and on public funds. They exercise in
public gymnasia and eat at public tables. The chief magistrates have
their mess-hall in the citadel; the priests have theirs close to the
temples; the magistrates, who preside over business matters, streets,
and markets, have theirs near the market-square, while those who attend
to the defences of the city have tables in the towers. When not engaged
in public business, the citizens may meet in the Freemen's Square and
enjoy an open-air _conversazione_, with music, poetry, and philosophy,
in a word, ? ? ? ? ? ? ? , for which our language has no even approximate
equivalent (see p. 33). In proportion as they advance in years, the
citizens enjoy more and more ? ? ? ? ? ? ? , which, indeed, is regarded as the
end of life, here and hereafter.

The government is entirely in the hands of the free citizens, the
legislative and deliberative power being in those of the elders; the
executive power, civil and military, in those of the younger portion. It
is curious that, though Aristotle regards this as the best possible
arrangement under ordinary circumstances, he nevertheless believes that
the happiest condition for a State would be to be governed by some
divine or heroic man, far superior to all the others in wisdom and
goodness. He plainly considers Pisistratus to have been one such man,
and he perhaps hoped that Alexander might be another.

The relations of the pedagogical State to other States are, as far as
possible, to be peaceful. Just as all labor is for the sake of rest and
? ? ? ? ? ? ? , so all war is for the sake of peace; and that State is to be
envied which can maintain an honorable independence without war. A
cultured State will eschew all attempts at conquest, and be as unwilling
to tyrannize over another State as to be tyrannized over by one. At the
same time, it will always be prepared for war, possessing an army of
well-trained, well-armed soldiers, and a well-manned, well-equipped
fleet.

Such are the chief features of Aristotle's ideal State, based, as he
believes, on man's political nature and the history of the past. Like
all social ideals, like heaven itself, as ordinarily conceived, it is a
static condition. Its institutions are fixed once for all, and every
effort is made to preserve them. It is curious to note in how many
points it coincides with Xenophon's ideal.

The purpose of the State is to educate its citizens, to make them
virtuous. Virtue is the very life-principle of the State, and it does
not depend, as other conditions do, upon nature or chance, but upon free
will. The ideal State, like every other, must educate with a view to its
own institutions, since only in this way can these be preserved. "And,
since the State, as a whole, has but one aim, it is evident that the
political education of all the citizens ought to be the same, and that
this is a matter for the State to attend to, and not one to be left to
individual caprice, as is now almost universally done, when every parent
attends to the education of his own children, and gives them whatever
schooling suits his own fancy. " For the education of those members of
the State who are not citizens the State makes no provision. They learn
their practical duties by performing them, and are completely under the
control of the citizens. Aristotle makes the most vigorous efforts to
prove that slavery has its justification in nature, which has
established between Greek and barbarian the relation of master and slave
(see p. 12). As woman belongs to the family, and is only indirectly a
citizen of the State, her education is entrusted to the former
institution. The daughter is to be educated by the parents, and the wife
by the husband, exactly as recommended by Xenophon.

Having concluded that education ought to be a matter of State
legislation, and the same for all the citizens, he continues: "It
remains to inquire what shall be the nature of the education, and the
method of imparting it. . . . The present state of education leaves this
question in a perfect muddle, no one seeming to know whether we ought to
teach those subjects which enable people to make a living, or those
which foster worth, or, finally, accomplishments. All have had their
advocates. In regard to those studies which have worth for their aim,
there is no general agreement, owing to the fact that different people
have different views as to what kinds of worth are admirable, and
consequently differ in regard to the means to be employed for the
cultivation of them. One point, however, is perfectly clear, viz. that
those useful things which are necessary ought to be taught. But it is
equally clear that a distinction ought to be made between liberal and
illiberal studies, and that only those useful subjects ought to be
taught which do not turn those learning them into craftsmen. We ought
to look upon every employment, art, or study which contributes to render
the bodies, souls, or intellects of free men unfit for the uses and
practices of virtue, as a craft. For this reason it is that we call all
those arts which lower the condition of the body crafts, and extend the
term to the money-making trades, because they preoccupy and degrade the
intelligence. As to the liberal arts, to cultivate an acquaintance with
them up to a certain point is not illiberal; but any over-devotion to
them, with a view to attaining professional skill, is liable to the
objections mentioned. It also makes a great difference for what purpose
we do or learn a thing. If a man does a thing for his own, for his
friends', or for worth's sake, it is not illiberal, whereas if he does
it often for the sake of anybody else, he will be held to be doing
something mercenary or slavish. "

The next and all-important question is, For what end shall the State
educate,--for business or for leisure? In answering this, Aristotle
breaks entirely away from the old Greek traditions, as well as from
Plato, and maintains that, while it must educate for both, yet education
for leisure is far more important than education for business, and cites
Nature as his authority. "Nature itself demands," he says, "not only
that we should pursue business properly, but that we should be able to
employ our leisure elegantly. If we must have both, we must; but leisure
is preferable to business, and our final inquiry must be, in what sort
of employment we shall spend our leisure. It is useless to say that we
are to spend it in play, and that play is the end and aim of our life.
If this is impossible, and the truth is that the proper place for play
is in the midst of business (it is the man who is toiling that requires
recreation, which is the aim of play, business being accompanied with
exertion and tension), then, in having recourse to play, we must select
the proper seasons for administering it, just as if it were a medicine.
Indeed, all such movement of the soul is relaxation, and becomes
recreation on account of the pleasure which it affords. Leisure, on the
contrary, is considered, in and by itself, to involve pleasure,
happiness, and a blessed life. These fall to the lot of those who have
leisure, not of those who are engaged in business. Those who engage in
business do so for some ulterior end not realized in it, whereas
happiness is itself an end and, according to universal belief, brings,
not pain but pleasure. Of course, as to the nature of this pleasure,
there is at present a variety of opinions, every one having his own
preferences due to his character and habits, and the highest type of man
preferring the highest type of pleasure and that which arises from the
noblest things. We need no further argument to show that we should
receive instruction and education in certain things with a view to
_otium cum dignitate_ (or cultured leisure), and that these should be
ends in themselves, in contradistinction to the instruction given for
business, which is necessary and has an ulterior aim. "

Three principles Aristotle lays down as valid for all education: (1)
that the training of the body ought to take precedence in time over that
of the mind; (2) that pupils should be taught to do things before they
are taught the reasons and principles of them; (3) that learning is
never playing, or for the sake of playing.

The periods of education distinguished by Aristotle are: (1) Childhood,
extending from birth to the end of the seventh year, and spent in
healthy growing and, latterly, in preparation for discipline; (2)
Boyhood, from the beginning of the eighth year to the advent of puberty,
devoted to the lighter forms of discipline, bodily and mental; (3)
Youth, from the age of puberty to the end of the twenty-first year,
occupied with the severer forms of discipline; (4) Manhood, devoted to
State duties. All these are but preparations for the divine life of the
soul. We shall treat these in order, including the second and third
under one head.




CHAPTER V

EDUCATION DURING THE FIRST SEVEN YEARS

Suffer no lewdness or indecent speech
The apartment of tender youth to reach. --Juvenal.

Le coeur d'un homme vierge est un vase profond--
Lorsque la premiere eau qu'on y verse est impure,
La mer y passerait sans laver la souillure;
Car l'abime est immense, et la tache est au fond.
--Alfred de Musset.


The State must begin the education of children before their birth;
indeed, before the marriage of their parents. It must see that only
persons of robust constitutions marry. Athletes are not suited for
marriage, neither are weaklings. The best age for marriage is
thirty-seven for a man, and eighteen for a woman. During their pregnancy
women must take special care of their health, living on light food, and
taking short walks. The State should make a law that they visit the
temples of certain gods every day, and offer up a prayer of thanksgiving
for the honor conferred upon them. They must carefully avoid all forms
of emotional excitement. When defective children are born, they must be
exposed or destroyed. The State must determine what number of children
each married couple may have, and, if more than this number are
begotten, they must be destroyed either before or after birth. "As soon
as children are born, it ought to be remembered that their future
strength will depend greatly upon the nourishment supplied to them. " A
milk diet is best, and wine must be avoided. "It is likewise of great
importance that children should make those motions that are appropriate
to their stage of development. . . . Whatever it is possible to inure
children to, they ought to be subjected to from the very outset, and
gradual progress to be made. Children, on account of their high natural
warmth, are the proper subjects for inurement to cold. These and other
points of the same nature are what ought to be attended to in the first
years of the child's life. In the following years, up to the age of
five, while children ought not to be subjected to any instruction or
severe discipline, for fear of impeding their growth, they ought to take
such exercises as shall guard their bodies from sluggishness. This may
be secured by other forms of activity as well as by play. Care must be
taken that their games shall be neither unrefined, laborious, nor
languid. As to the conversation and stories which children are to hear,
that is a matter for the attention of those officers called Guardians of
Public Instruction. It ought to be seen to that all such things tend to
pave the way for future avocations. Hence all games ought to be types of
future studies. As to the screaming and crying of children, they are
things that ought not to be prohibited, as they are in some places. They
contribute to the growth of the body, by acting as a sort of gymnastics.
Just as persons engaged in hard work increase their strength by holding
their breath, so children increase theirs by screaming. It is the
business of the Guardians of Public Instruction to provide for their
amusement generally, as well as to see that these bring them as little
as possible in contact with slaves. It is, of course, natural that at
this age they should learn improprieties of speech and manner from what
they hear and see. As to foul language, it ought, of course, like
everything else that is foul, to be prohibited in all society (for
frivolous impurity of talk easily leads to impurity of action), but
above all, in the society of the young, so that they may neither hear
nor utter any such thing. If any child be caught uttering or doing
anything that is forbidden, if he be freeborn and under the age when
children are allowed to come to the public table, he ought to be
disgraced and subjected to corporal punishment; if he be older, it will
be sufficient to punish him with disgrace, like a slave, for having
behaved like one. And if we thus prohibit all mention of improper
things, with stronger reason shall we prohibit all looking at improper
pictures and listening to improper narratives. It ought to be made the
business of the Guardians of Public Instruction to see that there does
not exist a statue or a picture representing any such thing anywhere in
the State, except in the temples of those gods to whom ordinary belief
ascribes a certain wantonness. . . . There ought to be a regulation
forbidding young persons to be present at lampoons or comedies before
they reach the age when they are allowed to come to the public table and
partake of wine, and when education has fortified them against all
possible danger from them. . . . We all have a preference for what we first
know; for this reason everything that savors of meanness or ignobility
ought to be made alien to children. From the completion of their fifth
year to that of their seventh, children ought to be present at the
giving of the various kinds of instruction which they will afterwards
have to acquire. "

In this brief sketch of primary education we see that Aristotle does not
depart far from the notions of Plato. It contains even the revolting
features of his scheme. It assumes that the citizens--men, women, and,
after a certain age, children--eat at public tables, and that education
is entirely managed by the State,--the family, in this respect, being
merely its agent. Some of its features, including the Guardians of
Public Instruction (? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? , child-herds) are plainly borrowed from
Sparta.




CHAPTER VI

THE YEARS FROM SEVEN TO TWENTY-ONE

The natures that give evidence of being the noblest are just those
that most require education. --Socrates.

We found ourselves beneath a noble castle
Encompassed seven times with lofty walls,
Defended round by a fair rivulet.
O'er this we passed as upon solid earth:
Through seven gates I entered with these sages.
We came upon a meadow of fresh green. --Dante.


For this period, which Aristotle divides into two (see p. 183) by the
advent of puberty, he, in the main, accepts the course of study
customary in his time. It consists, he says, of four
branches,--"Letters, Gymnastics, Music, and Drawing, the last not being
universal. Letters and Drawing are taught because they are useful in the
ordinary business of life and for a variety of purposes, and Gymnastics
because they foster manliness, whereas the purpose of Music is
doubtful. "

Of LETTERS Aristotle has not much to say, beyond the fact that they are
necessary in the common affairs of life. He champions Homer against
Plato, and goes into a long discussion to show the value of the drama.
Instead of believing, with Plato, that children should see and hear
nothing that would excite their emotions, he maintains that it is only
by being properly excited and "purged" that these can be trained and
made subordinate to the reason. Among the passions that obstruct the
exercise of reason are fear and pity. Tragedy rouses these and then
drains them off in a pleasant and harmless way. Comedy does the same
thing for pleasure and laughter. 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 (? ? ? ? ? ? ?