a MCR VE AUC SEE bs shes i SS Pitt Press Series, SOME TEOUCHTS EDUCATION JOHN LOCKE WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES BY THE REV. R. H. QUICK, M.A. TRIN. COLL. CAMB.; SOMETIME ASSISTANT MASTER AT IIARROW; AUTHOR OF “ESSAYS ON EDUCATIONAL REFORMERS,” NEW EDITION EDITED FOR THE SYNDICS OF THE UNIVERSITY PRESS. Cambrivge : AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS. London: C. J. CLAY anxp SONS, CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE, AVE MARIA LANE. 1892 [AU Rights reserved.] cet ve « ee. 2. « tee eve it . coe eevee et Cd Ce € Cg € Guo + Cc else Tee He Eee « CUO ‘ec eee Ge « « < . eel im cate to eke ce el ciel £ Cipher c tei terete € © ee . GEC ee pie tae oY ce Cg ® py « tie ete et Ee Ee 8 Cae he epila eins SEO [ref Z vires promovet insitas, Rectique cultus pectora roborant: oY Utcumque defecere mores, 5 Dad tb ta cul] mw edecorant bene nata culpe. el x. 2 op Hor. Lib. 1v. Od. 4. ZL : Be Zirtinsi Le stb elt Erin ot Boyt. IEC) -p33F CAMBRIDGE: PRINTED BY C. J. CLAY, M.A. AND SONS, AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, TABLE OF .CONTENTS, PAGE TABLE OF PASSAGES NOT IN FirsT EDpITION . . . x PREFACES . ’ . . . . > . » xii, xiv INTRODUCTION (Biographical). Locke born at Pensford, 1632 . : 3 . xix At Westminster school, 1646—1652 : xix An undergraduate at Christ Church, Oxford, 16 52—1 165 5 xxi Oxford life in 17th century . xxi Locke’s repugnance to Oxford ohilowphy tod dlspatetions xxi Locke tutor of Christ Church, 1660 : 3 . . xxii Goes to Cleve with Sir W. Vane, 1665 . . . . xxiii At Oxford again, 1666 . : : . ‘ xxiii Studies medicine . . : . xxiv Acquaintance with Lord Astley, 1666 : : : . xxiv In Lord Ashley’s family, or 2 : : : xxiv Cures Lord Ashley . . 3 . 7 XXiv Finds a wife for young Ailes : > : : . XXV Locke’s habit of writing : . . 4 : . XXV Locke’s theory of life . . ‘ . | . : XXVi Intercourse with Sydenham . . 2 . . xxvii Locke against hypotheses in medicine : y . xxvii Locke made Secretary of Presentations, 1672 . . . xxix Delenda est Carthago > . : : . . , xxix Locke buys an annuity . . : . . . XXX Residence in France, 16% 51679 : rs : . XXX A new pupil, Banks ; . . . . . XXX Logic before mathematics . . . . Xxxi NEI A my iv Contents. Locke returns to Lord Shaftesbury, 1679 . . . Locke's share in educating Lord Shaftesbury’s grandson . Locke at Oxford again, 1682 . . ; . : . Locke’s exile in Holland, 1683—1689 . : . . Is deprived of his studentship, 1684 . . . . His extradition demanded, 1685 . , . : . He is “pardoned,” 1686 . . Se . . Friendship with Le Clerc . > . 3 : Locke begins to publish . . . . . . Epitome of the great Zssay appears . . : . Origin of Z%oughts on Education . . Returns to England with Queen Mary, 1680 . . Locke is offered ambassadorship . . : 3 . He settles at Oates, 1692 . : . : His public functions : . . . Correspondence with W. Milpnens . . Locke publishes Z%oughts on Education, March, 1693 . An enfant terrible . . . : . Locke’s scheme of “Working Satinols 2 . : Locke and Newton . : : : 2 . The Essay at the Universities ; : ‘ . : Locke’s last days $f. : ‘ . . : His death, Oct. 27, 1704 . ; . : > . INTRODUCTION (Critical). Three sources: 1. Experience. 2. The working of other minds. 3. The working of one’s own . Unconscious influence of experience Locke’s belief in reason . . Need of learning from others . . : . . . Locke and previous writers . Arnstaedt’s succession: Rabelais, Montaigne, Locks, Rousseau . . . Rabelais and ‘‘ Realism . . Montaigne on true knowledge, E on the true plone of knowledge after virtue and wisdom . . . Locke’s study of Montaigne . . . . . . ¢¢ Education before instruction” X . . . . Locke wrote for ‘‘gentlemen ” . . . oo. PAGE xxxii xxxii XXXIV XXXiV XXXV XXXV XXXV XXXV XXXV XXXV XXXVI Xxxvil xxxVvii XXXViii XXXIiX XXXiX x1 xlii xliii xliv xlv xlv xlvi xvi xlvi xlvii xlviii xlviii xlix Contents. v PAGE Importance of physical education . . . iit Locke’s other Four Requisites . . liii Locke on importance of habit . . liv Locke on influence of companions . liv The Tutor . . . Iv Locke on “lenrning™ ’ lv Cardinal Newman accuses Vode of egleting edivation of the mind . . . Ivi The charge groundless . vi Locke and ¢ Realism” . . 1vii Hallam on Locke . . 1viii Points of agreement between Mostsigne and Todke . lix EPISTLE DEDICATORY . . . . “ie Ixi SOME THOUGHTS CONCERNING EDUCATION. SECT. 1—5. Hardening the body ’ . 2 5, 6. Not too warm clothing ; 3 6, 7. Wet feet ’ . 4 7. Cold water J . 5 7—9. Swimming. Open air : 6 9, 10. Caution established by habit . 9 11, 12. Against tight lacing . . 8 12—14. Diet . 9 14, ‘Meals A 4, 15. Meals II _15=#8# Drinking . . 18—20. 20, 21, Against strong ribs Fruit . ’ ‘ 3 Sleep . : . Sleep and Yedding . Action of the bowels ; y Action of the bowels Medicine . Mind formed by Edenton Self-denial must be taught early Spoiling children and its results Training in cruelty and vanity Contents. vi SECT. PAGE 37. Training in lying and intemperance > . ong 37, 38. Safeguard in early training to self-denial e 25 \ 35, 39: Do not reward importunity . . : . 1261 30—41. Parent and Child «log 41—43. Father and Son v + 28 43—45. How to avoid Punishments =. 20 46548. Against corporal punishments . [39 49—52. Harm from Severity roar 52, 53. Harm from injudicious rewards SE 53—55. Rewards and Punishments ian 55—58. Right management of praise and Biot 34] 58, 59. Difficulty from Servants 3 60, 61. The sense of Shame : 3 36 61—63. Praise in public, Blame in wilvete, Childishness . 37 63—635. Practice rather than Precept -. 23% 65, 66. Few Rules . . 39 66. Nature. Affectation 40 66. What is Affectation? . 41 . 66, 67. Manners. Dancing 42 67. Children and Manners : . 43 67, 68. Manners acquired by Imitation . 44 68—70. Dangers from Servants. Child to be much with Patents 45 vo. Home zersus School «7 40 vo. Bashfulness better than Vice ogy vo. The Schoolmaster powerless for conduct . vi a8 vo. Manners best learnt at home edo 70. Prevailing Dissoluteness and its cure «i 50 vo, 71. Example. Pueris reverentia ses 71—73. Lessons should not be Tasks . viise 73, 74. Seasons of Aptitude and Inclination 53 74 754 Mind must gain self-mastery . . C34) 75, 76. How learning is made displeasing phir 76—78. Against passionate Chiding 56 #8. Obstinacy needs the Rod 57 78. The Rod for Stubbornness only «58 78—=8o. Faults not of the Will : 130 80, 81. Appeal to Reason . 3 vis 00 81, 82.) Reason. Examples : : Ty OF \ 82—84. Rules for the Rod . . . . . . +. 02 Contents. vii SECT. PAGE 84. Punishments come of neglect or over-indulgence . 1103 84—-86. Show surprise at sin. Must Rod teach? v. 64 87. The Incorrigible . . . «41,08 “88-—go.” Tutors must have and deserve Respost .T6T1 90, 91. Importance of the Tutor . ; : > 6Y 91—g3. Choice of Tutor . ; . s 568 93. Good Breeding essential 69 93. ; The Tutor must see to Manners int O 93; 94. Teaching knowledge of the World 94. Dangers from ignorance of the World vidi 94. Forewarned, forearmed . oe «173 w 94. Breeding before Booklearning 74 94. True function of the Tutor wiiiily 94. ‘Non vite sed schole discimus ”’ iil 94. Get Man of the World for Tutor 77 94—96. Father and Son . . ‘ 5 : » 58 96, 97. Friendship of Father and Son . : . . v 470 97, 98. Father’s Friendship. Exercising Reason . . «1.80 98, 99. Against ¢ Disputations”. Secure Reverence > Sy 99—r102. Study the Child’s Character . . ie 183 102—7105. Child loves Liberty and Power . 2 + 28 105—107. Children must not be Choosers . +0 84 "107. Those that ask shall not have «18s 107. Teaching of Self-restraint . . . 30 107, 108. Curiosity encouraged. Amusements. .8y 108, 109. Free Recreations. Mutual Civility . 88. 109, 170. No tale-bearing. Reward om +o 280 110. Education in Justice . ; +. \ 08 110—112. Crying . . . 50 112, 113. Stomachful Crying «02 113, 114. Stop Whining . y +: 03 114, 115. Cases of Fool-hardiness . v iign 115. True Courage . . : + 05 115. Cowardice due to Eavention v.90 115. What is Fear? . sion 115. Education to Courage . . . : .. 08 115. Hardening by voluntary Pain . : . i. « 99 115, 3167 How Courage may be trained . . . . . \roo_\ 116. Prevent Cruelty and Mischief . . ‘ . + (101 SECT. 116, 117. 117, 118. 118—r120. 120. 120—123. 123, 124. 124, 125. 125—127. 127—129. 129. 129, 130. 130, 131. 131, 132. 132—T133. 136, 137. 138. 138, 139. 139, 140. 140—I42. 142, 143. 143. 143. 143—145. 145. 145. 145. 145—147- 147, 148. 148, 149. 149—I5T. I51—I55. 155, 156. 156—138. 158, 159. 150—I61. 161, 162. 162—164. 164—1066. 166, 167. Contents. Cruelty not from Nature but Habit . . . Manners to Servants. Curiosity again. . Knowledge a Pleasure . : > . . Children’s Questions a . : . Children’s Reasoning . . . . . Sauntering . . . . : : How to deal with Listlotiners . . Implant desire of some gain, or give Hem k Set Tasks of Play . . : . Play or Work ? : : . . : Playthings . . Educational Use of Gamer Lying and Excuses . Seem to trust. The Four Requiiiies ’ Virtue. First Teaching about God . Bogey makes Cowards. An Anecdote Trust in God. Truth. Good-nature Correct the Bias. Wisdom v. Cunning Good Breeding . . Good and Ill-breeding ansivsed Ill-breeding analysed. Rallying Contradiction. Captiousness . Over-civil . . . Children’s Politeness simple Rudeness of Interrupting . . Modest carriage. Rudeness in high life Influence of Companions. Learning . Learning needful but subordinate No Compulsion: make Learning Sport Games for teaching Reading Games for Reading . : : Amusing Books with Pictures . : Learning by Heart. The Bible . Learning by heart from the Bible . . Writing. Drawing . : : . How much Drawing. Shorthand : : French. Latin. . . » . : Latin without Grammar . . . . Begin with Knowledge of Things . . > 33 124 125 126 127 per] 129 130 131 132 135 (130) 137 138 139 140 Contents. SECT. 167. Art of Teaching . . . .iieie . 167. Children’s Attention . . . 5 . . 167. Attention lost by Harshness . . . . 167. Deal gently with Children , . . 167, 168. Language-learning without Grammar . . 168. Grammar, by whom needed . . : 168. Grammar of the Mother Tongue . 168. Grammar, when to be taught . ‘ 168—170. Words and Things. No Latin Themes 170—172. Against Latin Themes . . 172, 173. Speaking extempore. English Themes 173, 174. No Steps to Parnassus . . . 174—176. Against much learning by heart 176. Memory a natural Gift : 176, 177. How to exercise Memory . 177, 178. Latin Bible. Tutor again 178—180. Use of the Globes. Arithmetic 180, 181. Astronomy. Geometry . 18:—183. The Globes. Chronology . 183—185. History. Ethics . > . 186, 187. Gentleman’s Study of Law . . 188, 189. Rhetoric and Logic. No Disputations” 189. Against School-Rhetoric . . . . 189. Exercises in Speaking and Writing . 189. Neglect of the Mother Tongue . 189, 190. Foreign Examples. Natural Science 190, 191. Spirits and Bodies. Study of Bible . 191, 192. Danger of Materialism . . . 192, 193. Systems of Natural Philosophy . 193—195. Boyle. Newton . 195. No Greek. La Bruyére for Longline: 195. Choice of Tongues. © Study Originals . 195. Method in Study . . . . 195—197. Known to Unknown. Dancing. Music 197, 198. Recreation. Fencing. Riding . 198, 199. Fencing and Wrestling . 199—202. Prudentia. Learn a Trade . . . > 202—204. Manual Arts. Painting, &. No Compulsion 204—206. Gardening. Ancient Examples. . . . EE PAGE + 143 . 144 ht Se 147 148 149 150 151 AC (153) 154 155 1560 157 . 158 \ 159] +1160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 .i 168 . [169] 170 171 172 173 174 175 . 176 > 177 s 178 x Contents. SECT. PAGE 206, 207. Recreation in Change. Gaming . . . - 150 207, 208. No Need to kill Time . . . . : « 181 208—a210. Other manual Arts . . . ; . : . 153 210, 211. Use of keeping Accounts . : . : . « 183 211, 212. Right Time for Travel? . 5 : : « 182 212—214. Wrong Time for Travel . : : : . . 185 214—216. Gain from Travel . . . : . : « 186 ' 216, 217. Scope of this Treatise . : . 3 ; - 187 217. Conclusion . . . . . . . «18% APPENDIX A. Locke's scheme of © Working Schools” . . v 1809 APPENDIX B. Locke's other writings on Education. “Of Study” 191 NOTES . . . . y 2 . > . g 204) INDEX . . . . . yh . > . - 238 LOCKE’S ADDITIONS TO THE ORIGINAL WORK¥, The following passages differ from the first edition (1693): those between quotation-marks were added : § 5. “An eminent Instance...... be too warm: And” § 7. “How fond Mothers...... fce in iL.” § 13. “it ought to be...... young Master must needs have.” § 14. Small alterations, and “The Romans...... Sun-set:” added. § 15. “and grow peevish...... every Day.” “For thus...... un- healthy.” The rest re-written. § 21. On Sleep. *“Tho’ I have said” to end of section. § 37. Added. § 62. Added. § 66. “This Method” to end of section. § 67. “if when......their Governor.” ‘What I have said...... as they grow up.” § 70. ‘‘Being abroad” to end of section. * In the earlier copies of the Cambridge edition I gave a list which I had made too hastily and have since found to be imperfect. Rr. H. Q. 15 Dec. 1886. Locke’s Additions to the Original Work. xi § 77. § 78. § 88. § 93. § 94. § 98. § 106. § 107. § 108. § 109. § 110. § 113. § 114. § 1135. $ riy. § 125. § 126. § 130. § 136. § 143. § 145. § 150. § 161. § 167. § 168. § 169. § 176. § 17. § 180. § 189. § 195. § 205. § 207. ‘‘ Passionate chiding ” to end of section. “The Pain of the Rod......keep it.” tat least ill... and therefore” in § 89. Added. Added. Added. Rewritten. First part added. From “My Meaning,” rewritten. “How ever strict” to end of section. Partly rewritten. “(8 105 of first ed.) “If Liberality” to end of section. Small alteration. Small alterations. > Added. Added. Small variation. Rewritten. “One thing” to end of section. “And I am apt” to end of section. “It is a disposition’ to end of section. (8 138 of first ed.) ‘Tho’ children” to end of section. $¢ These Dbaits...... nothing,” rewritten. Short-hand added. “In teaching of children” to end of section. “It will possibly be asked” to end of section. “But whatever” to end of section. Added. “But of this” to end of section. “When this is done...... true in itself.” “There can be scarce” to end of section. “To conclude” to end of section. Added. Rewritten. PREFACE. THE Germans, who hitherto have had the history of education in their own hands, have uniformly attributed an important part in it to one Englishman and one only—the philosopher Locke; and their first well-known historian, F. H. Ch. Schwarz, has asserted that “modern pedagogy is more or less directly [a safe form of statement] the pedagogy of Locke. Die Pidagogik und Didaktik der neuen Zeit ist die Lockesche, mehr oder weniger folgerechs'” (quoted by Herbart, Pid. Schriften ii. 329 in Beyer's Bibliothek). But so little has been thought of education in this country that our one classic has never been carefully edited, and has now been for some time “out of print.” An inquiring student was lately told that the only edition obtainable was the Zawchnitz. I have no doubt there are American editions; the whole work is certainly to be found in Henry Barnard’'s English Pedagogy; but our booksellers have not as yet had the enterprise or the good fortune of Columbus. It has lately occurred to at least two committees at once that an English edition was wanted. There has been much talk about education of late years; and at length people are beginning to perceive that some thought about it and study of it may be desirable. The University of Cambridge has gone so far as to institute an examination, so that for the future there will be some young teachers who will find it useful to read the chief English classic connected with their profession. This is, I suppose, the reason why new editions, two at least, appear about the same time. The National Society’s edition is to be 1 Campe too says of Locke and Rousseau, “Sie mackien Bahn; wir Andern folgten.” Preface. xiii edited by the Rev. Evan Daniel. Unfortunately neither Canon Daniel nor I knew of the other’s work till too late, or we should have avoided even the appearance of rivalry. On examining the text I found that many errors had crept into the only complete editions, Ze. the editions published after Locke's death. The best text is that of the Works in 3 vols. folio, issued in 1714 by Locke’s own bookseller, Churchill. But this is by no means faultless. It even gives a wrong date (1690 instead of 1693) at the foot of the Epistle Dedicatory. 1 have corrected many inaccuracies, but I fear not all. Hallam speaks of Locke’s “deficiencies of experience,” but neither Hallam nor anyone else could have known before the publication of Mr Fox Bourne’s Life what Locke's experience was. I have endeavoured in the biographical introduction to put before the reader all that we now can learn about it. Locke’s study of medicine is no doubt an advantage to the ordinary reader, but it is decidedly the reverse to the ordinary editor. However, I have turned this weak part of the notes into a particularly strong one, by getting the help of Dr J. F. Payne, Fellow of Magdalen College Oxford, Assistant Physician and Lecturer at St Thomas's Hospital. Dr Payne tells us what the science of the nineteenth century has to say to Locke's advice ; and his notes are the more interesting from his having made a special study of the history of medicine. Locke showed the interest he took in the Z/owughts by adding to the editions which came out in his life-time, and by leaving fresh matter which was added after his death. The original work was not more than two-thirds the size of the present. I have given a table from which the student may see what the original work was. Some of the most important passages in the book, ¢.g. the attack on the public schools, do not belong to it. R.HO TRIN. CoLL. CaM., March 19th, 1880. PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. SINCE the first Cambridge edition of the Z%oxgkts came out four years ago, Locke has received much attention both at home and abroad. I will here mention the chief works bearing on the Z/oughts which have since been published. Canon Daniel's edition was I believe before mine, but by a few days only. In preparing this reissue I have resisted the temptation to have recourse to his book. Readers who can refer to it will find great assistance, especially from the notes on Locke's language. Had Dr Fowler's account of Locke's life (English Men of Letters, Locke. Macmillans) been given us a little earlier, I probably should not have prefixed one to this work. Dr Fowler’s description of Locke’s later years will be found especially in- teresting: and these I have said little about. Our plans and objects differed, and I have dwelt chiefly on Locke’s connexion with education. I am no doubt likely to exaggerate his im- portance as an educational writer; but according to Dr Fowler, Locke himself, and indeed all Europe, have fallen into the same error. But if Dr Fowler makes little of Locke the educationist, Professor Fraser in the ZEucyclopedia Britannica (Locke), makes nothing at all. On the Continent Locke is still reckoned among the great educational reformers; and, as M. Compayré tells us, Leibnitz considered the Z/owughts concerning Education a more im- portant book than the Essay on the Human Understanding. Several continental writers have lately treated of Locke, es- pecially as an educationist. I wish I had known of M. Marion’s very interesting sketch of Locke’s life (#. Locke, sa vie et son Preface to-the Second Edition. XV auvre. Paris, 1878) when I wrote on the same subject in 1880. M. Gabriel Compayré (who is now #%e¢ historian of education for those who do not read German, and for some who do also) has published a French translation of the Z/oughts (Quelques Pensées, &c. Paris, Hachette, 1882) with Introduction and notes. In these he seems to me to appreciate Locke more highly and more justly than he has done in his greater work Les Doctrines d’ Education (Hachette, 2 vols.) The only genuine attempt I have seen to find the true connexion between Locke’s thoughts on philosophy and on education is in a little book by Herr Wilhelm Gitschmann, Dze Pacdagogik des Fohn Locke (Koethen, Schettler, 1881). Her- bart’s is the philosophy now influential on education in Germany, and Locke is judged by Herr Gitschmann from this latest standpoint. Perhaps I should say a word on the conclusions to which the study of the books naméd, and also further acquaintance with Locke, have brought me. Sir William Hamilton (quoted in a good article on Locke in Edinburgh Review, vol. qo, April 1854) says: “Locke is of all philosophers the most figu- rative, ambiguous, vacillating, various and even contradictory.” To hear Locke spoken of as an ambiguous writer, is to say the 1 Take the following passage in proof of this: En effet le progres de la pédagogie moderne sur la vieille pédagogie, au point de vue de la direction de la volonté comme au point de vue de la développement de P’intelligence, consiste surtout en ceci qu’elle fait de plus en plus effort pour éveiller et mettre en ceuvre les énergies naturelles de esprit, pour associer enfant et son action personelle a D’action de I’éducateur, en un mot, pour faire de I’éducation une ceuvre de développement intérieur, une ceuvre du dedans, si je puis dire, et non un placage artificiel imposé du dehors. Locke a d’autant plus de mérite & professer ce principe pédagogique que les préjugés de sa philosophie sensualiste semblaient devoir I'égarer dans la voie contraire, et I’entrainer & exagérer la part des influences extérieures dans 1’éducation” (p. xxviii). This passage has the rare merit of allowing Locke to think for him- self, and does not attribute certain philosophic theories to him, and then make these theories dictate thoughts for him. xvi . Preface to the Second Edition. least of it somewhat startling; but figurative he is; and if a “small man may presume to judge a great, I should say he sometimes allowed a figure to run away with him and carry him further than his reason would have led him without the meta- phor. But perhaps this appearance of being vacillating, various and even contradictory arises in part from his efforts to get at the exact truth of the matter in hand, and not to bolster up anything previously asserted either by himself or any one else. He very much over-estimates, as it seems to me, the power of the individual intellect to get at truth in everything without even inquiring what had been thought and said by others. He goes so far as to maintain to his friend Molyneux that two honest men who would be at the pains to consider a matter of speculation could not possibly differ. And when he had grown old he lamented in a passage of singular pathos that he had wasted his time in “thinking as every man thinks.” And yet if ever man’s thought had not been content with the road-way it was Locke’s. Of the great “Essay” and his doctrines about the mind he writes to Stillingfleet “I must own to your Lordship they were spun barely out of my thoughts reflecting as well as I could on my own mind and the ideas I had there.” He is extremely contemptuous towards those who are as he says “learned in the lump by other men’s thoughts, and in the right 1 «« When I consider how much of my life has been trifled away in beaten tracks where I vamped on with others only to follow those who went before me, I cannot but think I have just as much reason to be proud as if I had travelled all England and, if you will, all France too, only to acquaint myself with the roads, and be able to tell how the highways lie wherein those of equipage, and even the herd too, travel. Now, methinks,—and these are often old men’s dreams—I see openings to truth and direct paths leading to it, wherein a little application and industry would settle one’s mind with satisfaction and leave no darkness or doubt. But this is the end of my day, when my sun is setting : and though the prospect it has given me be what I would not for anything be without—there is so much truth, beauty and consistency in it—yet it is for one of your age, I think I ought to say for yourself, to set about.” Locke to Bolde quoted by Fowler. Locke, p. 120. Preface to the Second Edition. xvii by saying after others.” Herr Gitschmann then seems reason- able when he says that Locke’s chief importance in education arises from his revolt against custom and authority. Locke does indeed write for those “who dare venture to consult their own reason in the education of their children rather than wholly rely upon old custom” (Z%owughis, ad f.). He ridicules those who let “custom stand for reason” (7%. § 164). But though use-and-wont has had almost undisputed sway in the schoolroom, its authority has always been called in question by writers on education, and there were several of these even in England before Locke. Even schoolmasters (e.g. Mulcaster, Brinsly and Hoole in England and Rollin in France) cannot publish a book on the school course without suggesting many alterations ; and writers who are not schoolmasters are almost always revolutionary. So a revolt against custom was no novelty first recommended by Locke. But Locke’s estimate (exaggerated estimate as I think it) of ie function of the reason led him to take a new view of educa- tion. Since the scholars of the Renascence found all wisdom and beauty as they thought in the ancient classics, education has been confounded with “learning” or “gaining knowledge.” But Locke’s notion of knowledge differed widely from the school- master’s. According to him knowledge is ‘ the internal percep- — tion of the mind” (L. to Stillingfleet. F. B. ii. 432). “Know- ing is seeing; and if it be so, it is madness to persuade ourselves we do so by another man’s eyes, let him use ever so many words to tell us that what he asserts is very visible. Till we ourselves see it with our own eyes and perceive it by our own understandings, we are as much in the dark and as void of knowledge as before, let us believe any learned author as much as we will” (C. of U. § 24). So Locke in effect maintained that the knowledge of the schoolroom was no knowledge at all, and he despised it accordingly. Yet he did not entirely give it up. His disciple Rousseau did so. Childhood and youth he would have quite differently treated. The child’s education is to be | mainly physical and no instruction is to be given till the age of | 12. This at first sight seems in striking contrast with is Q. b xviii Preface to the Second Edition. advice ; but there is a deep connexion between the two which is not usually observed. If nothing be accounted knowledge which is not gained by the perception of the reason, knowledge is quite beyond the reach of children. What then can the educator do for them? He can prepare them for the age of reason by caring (1st) for their physical health, and (2nd) for the formation of good habits. Among good habits industry holds a prominent place, and the chief use of schoolroom studies is to cultivate industry. This is certainly a new notion about learning ; and that it was Locke’s his own words prove : “The studies which [the governor] sets [the child] upon are but as it were the exercises of ‘his faculties and employment of his Time, to keep him from saunter- ing and idleness, to teach him application, and accustom him to | take pains, and to give him some little taste of what his own Industry must perfect” (Zhkoughts, § 94, p. 75 ad f£). Thus children are prepared only for intellectual education, and when he is old enough for that education every youth and young man — must be his own teacher. Locke has indeed written a book on intellectual education, but this is not the Z%owughis—it is the — Conduct of the Understanding? RH. OQ SEDBERGH VICARAGE, YORKSHIRE, Fan. 23, 1884. 1 All my references to this are to the Oxford edition of Dr Fowler, a little book which no one concerned with intellectual education should be without. INTRODUCTION BIOGRAPHICAL! AND CRITICAL. THE philosopher, JOHN LOCKE, was born at Pensford, a village six miles from Bristol, A.D. 1632. Though in bad health the greater part of his life he reached the age of 72, and died in the autumn of 1704. Of his early days we know little. He was not, like most great men, “his mother’s child.” Throughout his life the reason seems to have en- croached in him on the affections; and this we may attri- bute to the absence of female influence. We know nothing of his mother, and all that he told his friend, Lady Masham, about her was that she was “a pious woman and affectionate mother.” The family consisted of John, the first child, and Thomas, born five years later. There were no other children, and the mother may have died young: The father was the ruling spirit, and in those troubled times he was a stirring man abroad as well as at home. A lawyer by profession- he took up arms in the cause of the Parliament, and so became “Captain Locke.” : The Captain used his influence with the victorious party to get his son into Westminster School, and thither the boy, who had till then been brought up at home, was transplanted at the age of fourteen (1646). Here he remained till he was twenty, when he gained a Junior Studentship at Christ Church, Oxford. Where was our Westminster scholar, a lad of ! The references “ ‘F. B.” are to H. R. Fox Bourne's Life of John Locke. 2 vols. London, 1876. b2 XX Introduction. seventeen, when Charles I. was gazing from the scaffold on the crowd which reached almost to the school-gates? In after years the philosopher found great fault with the ordinary school course. “ Non vile sed schole discimus” he said, quoting Seneca. But at Westminster in his day, life with its fierce passions and grim tragedies came too near the school-room to be neglected for Latin concords and quantities. Locke at least never became absorbed by his school learning ; nor was he in his right element either at Westminster or Oxford. In his day the rod was wielded by Dr Busby, who must have seemed indeed Dictator perpetuus, for he was head- master from 1638 to 1695, a space of 57 years. Under him Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and even Arabic, were the studies of the place ; for Evelyn writes, nine years after Locke gained his studentship : “I heard and saw such exercises at the election of scholars at Westminster School to be sent to the Univer- sity, in Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and Arabic, in themes and ex- temporary verses as wonderfully astonished me in such youths, some of them not above twelve or thirteen years of age. Pity it is that what they attain here so ripely they either do not retain or do not improve more considerably when they come to be men, though many of them do.” (F. B. i 21.) We gather from this passage that Locke was far above the average age when elected. He had enjoyed those later years at school which generally leave behind pleasant memories ; but no such memories remained with him. He ridicules the notion that a public school affords a good preparation for life; and we see his general impression of school-life in these words: “How any one’s being put into a mixed herd of boys, and there learning to wrangle at trap or rook at span-farthing, fits him for civil conversation or business, I do not see.” (/nfra,s§ 70 p- 48.) Perhaps, like another of Westminster's most celebrated scholars a hundred years afterwards, the poet Cowper, Locke was of a shy disposition and “not good at games.” Boys of this kind are not popular; and in a society where public ,. opinion is as powerful as it is at school, the unpopular can ' hardly by any possibility be happy. Biographical. xxi X Some of Locke’s contemporaries, South, e.g., and Dryden, found the art of wrangling useful in after life, and in business very different from trap; but Locke always maintained that the aim of disputants should be to arrive at truth; so the art of arguing for party purposes, or for mere personal triumph, an art in those days begun at school and carried to great perfection at the University, was not according to the philo- sopher a desirable accomplishment. Locke’s peculiar view of the object of disputation gave him a distaste for the logical course he was compelled to go through at Oxford. We are told that “he never loved the trade of dis- puting in public in the schools, but was always wont to declaim against it, as being invented for wrangling or ostentation rather than to discover truth.” However, he was not his own master for the first seven years of his residence at Oxford, and the discipline in the Puritan days was severe. Christ Church was not then so pleasant a place of residence for undergraduates as it has since become. Mr Fox Bourne gives us an account of an ordinary day’s work, which must astonish the modern student. Locke had to be in chapel at 5 a.m., when besides the prayers there was often a sermon. With an interval for breakfast his time was then taken up till midday dinner with attendance at | the lectures of the Professors, or preparation for these lectures with the College tutor. At dinner no language might be spoken but either “Greek or Latin.” In the afternoon came another public lecture, and then the University disputations and decla- mations. In the evening he had again to attend chapel and afterwards to go to his tutor’s rooms for private prayers, and to | give an account of his day’s occupations. This was his mode of life till he got his Bachelor’s degree in February, 1655. a Such a life must have been drudgery indeed to one who rebelled against the logic and the philosophy then in vogue. Locke’s opinion of Oxford logic may be seen in §§ 188, 189 of this work. - As to the philosophy, he in after days complained to his friend Le Clerc that “he had lost a great deal of time at the commencement of his studies, because the only philosophy then known at Oxford was the Peripatetic, perplexed with xxil Introduction. obscure names and useless questions.” (F.B.i.p. 47.) Indeed he found so “little light brought to his understanding,” that he regretted his father had sent him to the University, as he began to fear that “his no greater progress in knowledge proceeded fromhis not being fitted or capacitated to be a scholar.” (Lady Masham, quoted by F. B. i. p.47. See also #zfra § 166, p. 140, 11. 15 ff.) Between taking his Bachelor's and his Master's degree Locke had still to attend University lectures; but he was free from his tutor, so he had some time at his own disposal. The discouragement he felt from his slow advance in the current philosophy “kept him from being any very hard student,” as he told Lady Masham, “and put him upon seeking the company of pleasant and witty men, with whom he likewise took great delight in corresponding by letters; and in conversation and these correspondences he spent for some years much of his time.” (F. B. p. 53.) In 1660 John Locke the father died, and the elder son came into a small property. Of the younger son Thomas we know nothing, except that he died of consumption soon after the father. Locke had now taken his Master’s degree and obtained a Senior Studentship at Christ Church. He was friendly to the Restoration, and seems for a while to have overcome his dislike to the Oxford scheme of studies, for he became Tutor of his College and the College Reader in Greek and in Rhetoric. He no longer attributed the seeming obscurity of Oxford philo- sophy to his own want of penetration. He had studied Des Cartes, and without becoming his follower had found him per- fectly intelligible. Locke had much in common with Des Cartes. Des Cartes had been as little satisfied with the learning he gained from the Jesuits at La Fleche, as Locke had been satis- fied with the learning of Westminster and Oxford, and like Locke he had been driven to seek in society the wisdom he had not found in the schools. With the study of Des Cartes began Locke’s interest in philosophy, but it was many years before this turned him into an author. He was now undecided about a profession. As a Senior Student of Christ Church he would in the ordinary course have Biographical. xxiii taken Holy Orders ; and such doubts as trouble many philo- sophic minds in these days were unknown to Locke, who speaks of the Bible with no less reverence than Luther himself. \_ But he decided against becoming a clergyman, and for some time hesitated between the study of Medicine and public affairs. In 1665 he was appointed secretary to Sir Walter Vane, our ambassador te the Elector of Brandenburg, and he went with the ambassador to Cleve. In the amusing letters he wrote home to friends in England, we see that he was glad to escape from the life of an Oxford don. ¢ When I left Oxford,” he says, “I thought for a while to take leave of all University affairs ; but do what I can I am still kept in that track.” He then goes on to tell of some disputations of Franciscan monks at which he had been present. “ The moderator was top-full of distinctions, which he produced with so much gravity and applied with so good a grace that ignorant I began to: admire logic again, and could not have thought that simpliciter et secundum quid materialiter et jformaliter had been such gallant things. * * The truth is, here hog-shearing is much in its glory, and our disputing in Oxford comes as far short of it as the rhetoric of Carfax does that of Billingsgate. But it be- hoves the monks to cherish this art of wrangling in its declining age, which they first nursed and sent abroad into the world to give it a troublesome idle employment.” (F.B. i. pp. 115, 116.) ¥_ We see in these letters that his mind was even then at work on questions of trade, the coinage and so forth, which he was in later years much concerned with. He especially ridicules the German coinage. A horseload of turnips, says he, would fetch two horseload of money. This mission over, he was offered diplomatic service in Spain ; but he declined it, and returned to Oxford. He was not ambitious, and perhaps he found that his health would not stand the wear and tear of public life. His settled conviction was that “amidst the troubles and vanities of this world, there are but two things that bring a real satisfaction with them, that is virtue and knowledge.” (F. B. i. p. 134; cfr. ii. p. 304, IL. 13 ff.) Oxford offered him great advantages for the calm pursuit of Vad XXIV Introduction. knowledge, especially for investigations in physical subjects, for which a kind of school had been formed by his friend Boyle. So he gave up diplomacy for medicine ; but an accident soon con- nected him again with public affairs and with education. Many great men, as Horace tells us, are unknown to fame because no sacred poet has been found to confer immortality on them. Conversely many men who were not great can never be forgotten because they are the subjects and indeed the victims of celebrated epigrams. The Earl of Chatham.who waited for Sir Richard Strachan and for whom Sir Richard waited, is as little likely to have his fame obscured as his illustrious father. But after all it is rather the name than the man who is remem- bered in such cases; and so it is with Dryden’s “ Achitophel,” the first Lord Shaftesbury. His name is known to everyone, but the man himself is known only to his biographer, Mr Christie, and the few students of history who have patience to read a large book about him. Everyone else forms a notion of him from Dryden and Macaulay. Dryden was a professedly party skirmisher and knew that he was not writing history. Macaulay in this and in other instances thought he was writing history when he was merely expanding an epigram. That Shaftesbury’s is not a name which deserves to be “by all suc- ceeding ages cursed,” is almost proved by the fact that Locke knew him intimately and esteemed him very highly. An acci- dent led to Locke's introduction to Shaftesbury, then Lord Ashley, at Oxford, in 1666. Ashley saw at once that Locke was no ordinary doctor, and he found such pleasure in his society that he contrived to attach him to his family in an unde- fined position, partly as physician partly as friend. Locke at this time did not shrink from responsibility as a doctor. Lord Ashley was suffering from an internal tumour caused by a fall from his horse. Locke undertook the delicate operation of drawing off the matter by inserting a silver tube. The operation was successful, and Lord Ashley believed himself indebted for his life to his friend and physician. In this family, duties still more delicate devolved on the philosopher. He had great influence over the lives of the first { Biographical. : XXV three earls. Of these the first was “Achitophel” of whom I have just spoken ; the second, a man of no further distinction than his title gave him, was indebted to Locke partly for his educa- tion and entirely for his wife. The third Lord Shaftesbury, the author of the Characteristics, was educated according to Locke’s advice during the lifetime of the grandfather, though he was afterwards sent by his father to Westminster School. From the literary lord we get the following particulars : “ When Mr Locke first came into the family my father was a youth of about 15 or 16. Him my grandfather intrusted wholly to Mr Locke for what remained of his education. He was an only child, and of no firm health, which induced my grandfather, in concern for his family, to think of marrying him as soon as possible.” (F. B. i. p. 203.) The task of selecting a wife was left entirely to Locke, who seems to have had plenty of moral courage, though it has been hinted that he was not remarkable for his physical courage. He went to Belvoir and “arranged a marriage” with Lady Dorothy Manners, daughter of the Duke of Rutland, a lady who although only twenty at the time of the wedding was three years older than her husband. (See infra § 216, p. 187, Hs) But before giving an account of Locke’s employments in the family of Lord Shaftesbury, I should mention a habit he had already formed at Oxford, the habit of writing out, for his own | eye only, his thoughts on subjects which particularly interested him. This practice he continued through life, and in his old age (6 Apr. 1698) he writes to his friend Molyneux : “I have often had experience that a man cannot well judge of his own notions till either by setting them down in paper or in discoursing them to a friend, he has drawn them out and, as it were, spread them fairly before himself.” When he left Oxford for the family of Lord Ashley in 1667 many MSS. were already in existence, some of which were worthier of publication than his verses, the only things of Locke’s printed before the year 1686. * The following, which his first biographer, Lord King, gives among his Miscel- laneous Papers, was probably written early, and is interesting as showing Locke’s theory of life. XXVI Introduction. “Thus I think : ; “It is a man’s proper business to seek happiness and avoid misery. “Happiness consists in what delights and contents the mind, misery in what disturbs, discomposes, or torments it. “I will therefore make it my business to seek satisfaction and delight, and avoid uneasiness and disquiet ; to have as much of the one and as little of the other as may be. “But here I must have a care I mistake not ; for if I prefera short pleasure to a lasting one, it is plain I cross my own happi- ness. “Let me then see wherein consists the most lasting pleasure of this life, and that as far as I can observe is in these things: “1st. Health,—without which no sensual pleasure can have any relish. “2nd. Reputation,—for that I find everybody is pleased with, and the want of it is a constant torment. “3rd. Knowledge,—for the little knowledge I have, I find I would not sell at any rate, nor part with it for any other pleasure. “4th. Doing good,—for I find the well-cooked meatI eat to-day does now no more delight me, nay, I am dis-eased after a full meal. The perfumes I smelt yesterday now no more affect me with any pleasure. But the good turn I did yesterday, a year, seven years since, continues still to please and delight me as often as I reflect on it. “sth. The expectation of eternal and incomprehensible hap- piness in another world is that also which carries a constant pleasure with it. “If then I will faithfully pursue that happiness I propose to myself, whatever pleasure offers itself to me I must carefully look that it cross not any of those five great and constant pleasures above mentioned. «All innocent diversions and delights as far as they will con- tribute to my health and consist with my improvement, condition, and any other more solid pleasures of knowledge and reputation, I will enjoy, but no farther; and this I will carefully watch and examine—that I may not be deceived by the flattery of a present Biographical. Xxvil pleasure to lose a greater.” -(Lord King’s Zife of Locke, 1829, pp. 304 ff.) ; While in Lord Ashley’s family in London Locke was in frequent intercourse with the great physician, Sydenham. The traditional learning of the doctors pleased Locke as little as the traditional learning of the schoolmasters or the University pro- fessors ; and he and Sydenham set about applying Baconian principles to the study of medicine. Among his MSS. was found, with the heading De Arte Medica, a brilliant onslaught on the habit of being guided by hypotheses. ‘The beginning and improvement of useful arts and the assistances of human life,” so he writes, “have all sprung from industry and observa- tion.” But “Man, still affecting something of a deity, laboured to make his imagination supply what his observation failed him in ; and when he could not discover the principles and courses and methods of Nature’s workmanship, he would needs fashion all those out of his own thought, and make a world to himself, framed and governed by his own intelligence.” (F. B.i. p. 225.) Thus it had come to pass that the most acute and ingenious part of men were by custom and education engaged in empty speculations. The point that Locke urges with great emphasis is that these speculations whether true or not are useless. “The notions that have been raised into men’s heads by remote speculative principles, though true, are like the curious imagery men sometimes see in the clouds which they are pleased to call the heavens ; which though they are for the most part fantastical, and at best but the accidental contexture of a mist, yet do really hinder sight, and shadow the prospect ; and though these painted apparitions are raised by the sun and seem the genuine offspring of the great fountain of light, yet they are really nothing but darkness and a cloud ; and whosoever shall travel with his eye fixed on these, ’tis ten to one goes out of his way” (p- 224). Hence little good had come of learning, and “he that could dispute learnedly of nutrition, concoction and assimilation, was beholden yet to the cook and the good housewife for a wholesome and savoury meal” (225, 226). The ordinary learn- ing deserved not the name of knowledge. “They that are XXXVI Introduction. studiously busy in the cultivating and adorning such dry barren notions are vigorously employed to little purpose ; and might with as much reason have retrimmed, now they are men, the babies they made when they were children as exchanged them for those empty impracticable notions that are but the puppets of men’s fancies and imaginations, which however dressed up are after 40 years’ dandling but puppets still, void of strength, use or activity” (p. 226). We see here the principles on which Locke doctored in Lord Ashley’s family. He cut himself completely adrift from the ordinary methods, so much so indeed that in the Dedication to Lord Ashley which Locke wrote for Sydenham’s book on Small-pox, Locke feels that he ought to stand on the defensive. “At least, my lord,” he writes, “I thought it reasonable to let you see that I had practised nothing in your family but what I durst own and publish to the world; and let my countrymen see that I tell them nothing here but what I have already tried with no ill success on several in the family of one of the greatest and most eminent personages amongst them.” (F. B. i. 232.) What Locke’s educational practice was we can only infer from this book of Z%owughis written some 20 years later ; but Locke was no more attached (as we have seen) to the estab- lished system in education than in medicine, and he no doubt innovated with equal boldness in both (cfr. F. B. ii IL 13 ff). The second Lord Shaftesbury turned out a stronger man in body than was expected, but Locke’s hardening system was not tried upon him as a child; and he was married while still a youth. In this case Locke secured at best only one of his desz- derata : the mens sana was wanting zn corpore sano. At this time he seems to have intended keeping for life to the profession of medicine : but his occupations in Lord Ashley’s family were very varied, including the settlement of “the Go- vernment of Carolina;” so that he could not get into pro- fessional habits: and before he reached his goth year he was attacked by the cough which made him an invalid the rest of his days. His “carcase was made of a very ill composition,” as he himself wrote at this time; and residence in London was Biographical. XXIX very trying to it. But as his friend and patron climbed higher and higher to the eminence from which he at length fell head- long, he found more and more need for Locke’s services. After a short visit to France Locke was appointed in 1672 to the post of “Secretary of Presentations,” with a salary of £300, by the new Lord Chancellor, who was no more Lord Ashley but had been created Earl of Shaftesbury. Locke’s relations with the nobleman had been hitherto those of intimacy. We see this from the anecdote of Locke’s notes of conversation. On one occasion some celebrated men were the guests of Lord Ashley, and all except Locke sat down to cards. Locke took a pencil and wrote, and when Lord Ashley asked him how he was em- ployed, he said: “I have been looking forward to being present at the meeting of such eminent men, nothing doubting but that I should profit by their conversation. I have now put on paper everything that has been said for half an hour, and I will read it that you may judge whether I have had so great a benefit as I had hoped.” He then read a string of small observations about the game. This, we are told, brought the game to an abrupt conclusion. Here Locke was allowed the freedom of an associate. But from the time of his appointment to the Secre- taryship he held a position which seems to us below the dignity of so great a man. During term time he was expected to attend prayers at seven and eleven every morning and at six every after- noon, and on every Sunday in the morning a sermon, and “ on Easter Sunday and Whit Sunday and Christmas Day a Com- munion.” When the Chancellor drove out in state Locke with the other Secretaries walked by the side of the coach, “and when my lord went to take coach or came out of his coach” they “went before him bareheaded.” (F. B. i. 279.) Unfortunately Locke’s connexion with Shaftesbury, and Shaftesbury’s submission to the policy of the King compelled the philosopher to act as prompter, standing behind the Chan- cellor when he made his discreditable speech in favour of war with Holland for the furtherance of * British interests,” and in a nominally Christian senate revived the heathen cry “ Delenda est Carthago” (Cp. Seeley’s Expansion of England p. 79.) XXX Introduction. But subservient as the Chancellor was when only the Dutch were concerned, he could not adopt the policy of the Treaty of Dover: and in November 1673 he was dismissed from office. Locke thus lost the secretaryship, but not the work of a secre- tary. “When my grandfather quitted the court and began to be in danger from it,” writes the third Lord Shaftesbury, “ Mr Locke now shared with him in dangers as before in honours and advantages. He entrusted him with his secretest negotia- tions and made use of his assistant pen in matters that nearly concerned the State and were fit to be made public.” (F. B. i. 285.) Another secretaryship, that to the Council for Trade and Foreign Plantations, had also been held by Locke with a nominal “salary of £600 a year, but it did not prove a lucrative office, - as the salary, though fixed by Charles and granted ‘under the Privy Seal” was never paid. Shaftesbury endeavoured to provide for his friend by selling him an annuity of £100 a year at a moderate price, and this annuity was paid till Locke's death. In 1675 the state of Locke’s health rendered it necessary for him to seek a warmer climate, and he went to France, where he spent the next four years (1675-—9). Relieved from the toil, the excitement, and the perils of party struggles, Locke now turned again to the more congenial domain of abstract thought. On his way back from Montpellier to Paris in the spring of 1677, he made entries in his journal on the subject of study, which, collected as they are by Lord King, form an essay valuable in itself and extremely interesting to those who are seeking for the ground-thoughts of the writer. (See Appendix A.) During this respite from politics Locke was again engaged in education. His patron and friend ‘ Achitophel” wrote to him at the beginning of 1677 from the only place he could then date from, “the Tower,” to request him to take a new pupil. “Sir John Banks, my intimate good friend, is sending his son into France to travel about that country for four or five months. He hath already learnt the French tongue, but is very willing to let him see the manners of those people. Biographical. xxxi \ Sir John intends to send him over to Paris about a fortnight hence in the custody of Sir Richard Dutton who is going thither, and there is very desirous, if you will undertake that charge, to have him recommended to your care. In order thereunto he begs the kindness of you to come and meet him at Paris, where Sir R. D. is to deliver him up to your care. As for the charges of your travels, Sir John is to defray them, and will otherwise, as he saith, give you such a reward as becometh a gentleman.” Locke went to Paris from Montpellier accordingly, and took charge of this pupil, the son of a merchant, who from small beginnings “had amassed,” says Evelyn, “ £100,000.” The tutorship lasted for nearly two years, but we have no particulars about it. We do not even know the age of the pupil, but as “he had already learnt the French tongue” he was probably in his teens. He was old enough to begin mathematics, but Locke found that he did not know the very rudiments of logic. For disputations, as we have seen, Locke had the extremest aversion ; but he seems to have thought logic necessary before mathematics. To begin mathematics without any know- ledge of logic, he says, “is a method of study I have not known practised, and seems to me not very reasonable” (Locke to Banks, F. B. i. 378). From this correspondence we may conclude I think that foreign travel was the finishing stage of an education conducted “regardless of expense.” Locke now spent a good deal of time in Paris, and being well known to the English Ambassador, Montague, he made many acquaintances. His chief associates were men engaged in scientific inquiry, and his own thoughts were much occupied with physical science, as we see by his letters to Boyle and by his questions about effervescence, to which Dr John Brown has called attention in Hore Swubsecive. He even undertook the medical care of the English Ambassadress, the Countess of Northumberland, and was more successful than the French doctors had been. At length in 1679 Locke after a tour about France with his pupil (of whom we hear no more) was called back to xxxi1 Introduction. England to join Shaftesbury, no longer in the Tower, but by a turn of the wheel again placed in office as Lord President of the Council. Locke obeyed the summons, but he probably expected little happiness or success from the change of affairs. He wrote to his Paris correspondent Thoynard that he “derived no pleasure from the prospect of returning to his native land.” (F. B. i 409.) Perhaps this was partly on account of his health. “I shall be well enough at my ease,” he writes to Mapletoft, “if when I return I can but maintain this poor tenement of mine in the same repair it is at present without hope ever to find it much better.” (F. B. i. 407.) He had had some hopes of settling as Professor of Medicine at Gresham College in Bishopsgate; but the post did not fall vacant, and Locke started again in the whirlpool of politics, which in those days soon sucked down to the bottom all who managed to show themselves for a little while at the top. After three years of plots and counterplots the new Lord President’s head was saved by the “Zgnoramus” of the Grand Jury, and he escaped to Holland, where he died very soon afterwards. Locke had probably no knowledge of the plot in favour of Monmouth; but his connexion with Shaftesbury was so close, and the Court party were such good haters and so little under the restraints of law, that another residence abroad became prudent, and Locke escaping to Holland was an exile there from 1683 till he returned with Queen Mary in 1689. Before we go abroad with him we will see how he had been employed in England. We need not concern ourselves with his share in politics, but up to the time of Shaftesbury’s fall Locke had had his Lordship’s private affairs as well as public affairs to think of ; and among these, one which greatly interested the old lord was the education of his grandson. When the child was but three years old “Achitophel” induced the father to give him up entirely, and from that time till the flight and death of the grandfather the child was brought up under Locke’s directions. Locke engaged as a governess a Mistress Elizabeth Birch, the daughter of a schoolmaster of that name, a lady own. Biographical. XXXI11 possessing the unusual accomplishment of speaking Latin and .Greek. No doubt the child was to learn these languages— Latin at least—colloquially ; and as Locke nearly 20 years later ™ declares this to be the best method, perhaps it was tried with some success as in the case of Montaigne. But Locke’s absence in France from 1675 to 1679 prevented his superintending the experiment. The grandfather when in the Tower had perhaps more time to attend to the child’s education than he usually had for domestic matters, and in 1677 we find him through his secretary directing Locke to inquire in France about books for him. “His Lordship desires you will inquire and let him know what books the Dauphin was first initiated in to learn Latin. He apprehends there are some books, both Latin and French, either Janua-linguarums or colloquies ; and he also desires to know what grammars. This he conceives may best be learnt from those two printers that printed the Dauphin’s books.” (Stringer to Locke, 16 Aug. 1677. F. B. i. 376,7.) The child at this time was between six and seven. He was nearly nine when Locke returned, and he was then for three years entirely under Locke’s control. A house was taken at Clapham and there Mistress Birch was established with the child, and Locke paid them frequent visits. How close his attendance was we may judge from a passage in a letter of his to the old lord. “I have not had the opportunity this one day that I have been in town to go and wait on Mr Anthony.” (F. B.i. 424.) “Mr Anthony,” better known as the third Earl of Shaftesbury and the author of the Characteristics, thus writes of his own early years: “In our education Mr Locke governed according to his own principles, since published by him, and with such success that we all of us came to full years with strong and healthy constitu- tions—my own the worst, though never faulty till of late. I was his more peculiar charge, being as eldest son taken by my grandfather and bred under his immediate care, Mr Locke having the absolute direction of my education, and to whom, next my immediate parents, as I must own the greatest obliga- tion, so I have ever preserved the highest gratitude and duty.” (F.B.1i 424) I cannot agree with Mr Fox Bourne that after the Q C xxXiv Introduction. above assertion of the person best informed in the matter “there is nothing to show that Locke had to do with any but the eldest of the grandchildren,” but after the death of the first earl Locke had no influence with the second. Mr Anthony was no longer brought up on Locke’s principles, but a step was taken which no doubt Locke would have done much to prevent—the lad was sent to Westminster School. Mr Fox Bourne surmises that the lad was tormented by the boys as the grandson of a traitor; but in the public schools of days gone by it was probably far better to be the grandson, or son even, of an outlawed nobleman than of the most prosperous and respected tradesman. However this may have been, the author of the Characteristics seems to have been as little satisfied with the ordinary education of his time as Locke himself, and he expresses nothing but contempt for “pedants and schoolmasters.” We have now come to the most troubled period of Locke’s life. At the age of 50 and in wretched health he had six years of exile before him, not in France, where the climate would have suited him, but for safety’s sake, in Holland, where the Govern- ment would not be so ready to give him up, or at all events to find him if, as it actually turned out, the English Government should demand him among the proscribed. After Shaftesbury’s escape Locke seems at first to have hoped that he would be unmolested at Oxford. Under the date Oct. 24, 1682, his college contemporary Prideaux writes: “John Locke lives very quietly with us; and not a word ever drops from his mouth that dis- covers anything of his heart within. Now his master is fled, I suppose we shall have him here [Ze at Christ Church] alto- gether. He seems to be a man of very good converse, and that we have of him with content [s#c]; as for what he is, he keeps “it to himself, and therefore troubles us not with it nor we him.” (Letters of Humphrey Prideaux to Fohn Ellis: edited by E. M. . Thompson for Camden Society, 1875, p. 134.) But with all his caution Locke did not feel safe in England, so in the autumn of 1683 he crossed the Channel and took refuge in Holland. Charles, finding he could not get at’ Locke, did all the mischief that still lay in his power, and in his way of doing so showed Biographical. XXXV that it was well Locke had not trusted to the laws to protect him. Charles compelled the Dean (the identical Dr Fell whose well- known unpopularity has remained a mystery) to deprive Locke of his studentship, and thus ended his connexion with Oxford. From 1683 till 1685 Locke travelled about Holland, and made the acquaintance of learned men, especially at Leyden: but after the death of Charles II. and the Monmouth Insurrec- tion, a list of 84 “traitors and plotters against the life of James 11.” was sent to the Dutch Government, and the last name on this list was that of Locke. Locke had now to spend some time in concealment, and only two or three friends knew where he was. The Earl of Pembroke and William Penn interceded with the King for a pardon, which James promised if Locke would come to England ; but Locke replied that he “had no occasion for a pardon, having com- mitted no crime.” However, a pardon was granted in 1686. ? Locke could now again move about freely, and have the society of his friends. Among his new acquaintances was a Genevese named Le Clerc, or, as he was often called in those days of Latin correspondence, Clericus. By his new friend Locke was induced to write for a magazine of which Le Clerc was editor, the Bibliotheque Universelle; and thus at the age of 54 Locke began to give his thoughts to the world. Mr Fox Bourne thus describes the change: * Hitherto we have found that he was pre-eminently a student. Henceforth we shall find him a humble, painstaking student still, but pre-eminently an author; so zealous an author that the remaining eighteen years of his life did not give him time enough to pour out for the world’s instruction all the old thoughts that he had been accumulating, and all the new thoughts that took shape in a mind which retained the vigour of its youth long after the body had grown old.” (F. B. ii. 45, 46.) The great work which has made Locke famous, the Zssay on the Human Understanding, had been growing for some years. It was now nearly completed, and an epitome of it appeared in Le Clerc’s Brbliothéque Universelle. Another work much less elaborate indeed, but, as it proved, of no small importance, was in progress during these years of exile, C2 XXXVI Introduction. though even the author hardly knew that he was writing it. Locke from his first residence at Oxford had been a great letter- writer. Now-a-days we do not know what a letter is. The late Sir Rowland Hill has destroyed for most people the very con- ception of one, though indeed he only gave letter-writing the coup de grdce; the practice could not long have survived the general extension of railways. But in those days friends could seldom meet, and the letter sent at sufficiently long intervals on account of the high rate of postage was the general means of communication for those who had ideas and the wish to com- municate them. One of Locke’s friends in England, Mr Edward Clarke, of Chipley, near Taunton, was anxious for advice about the bringing up of his son; and as this problem had been much in Locke’s thoughts, the philosopher wrote from Holland a series of letters on the subject, which, four years after his return to England, he was induced to publish as Z/owughts concerning Education. No doubt the letters were more elaborate than they would have been but for a notion in the writer's mind that they might some day be used as material for a treatise; but they were written (to use Locke’s own words on a similar occasion) in “the style which is such as a man writes carelessly to his friends, when he seeks truth, not ornament, and studies only to be in the right and to be understood.” (F. B. ii. 189.) As he afterwards found no time to work up these letters into a regular dissertation, he was content to publish them as 77%oug/#s. The work was a favourite one with him ; and he kept adding to it as long as he lived. But as a literary work it suffered much from being composed in this irregular and patchwork fashion. The sentences are often very carelessly constructed ; and short as the book is, it contains a good deal of tiresome repetition. But when a mind like Locke’s applies itself to an important subject, all men are interested in the result; and the Zkowughts concerning Education has been hitherto the solitary English classic in Pedagogy. We have now perhaps a second in the work of Mr Herbert Spencer. During the latter part of his stay in Holland Locke was at Rotterdam, and in frequent communication with William Biographical. XXXVI and Mary at the Hague. They both of them had the penetra- tion to estimate Locke at his true value. William soon gave a remarkable proof of this by offering him, as we shall see, one of the highest and most important posts among our ambassa- dors; and in later years the King honoured him in a right royal fashion by sending for him to ask his advice when the journey nearly cost him his life. Thus the Revolution gave back to England the writer who by his influence on European thought soon formed one of her main intellectual ties with the Continent. Reviewing the five years and a half spent in Holland, Locke writes to his Dutch friend Limborch, “I know not how such a large portion of my life could elsewhere have been spent more pleasantly. Certainly it could not have been spent more profitably” (F. B. ii. 83). It was the old story. Dame Fortune had tried to do him a bad turn, and had done him a good one. ‘J7/a premendo sustulit” By giving him leisure she had assisted in making a nobleman’s private secretary one of the greatest men of the age. Taking with him the MS. of the Essay on the Human Understanding, and glad “to cross the Channel, crowded as it is just now with ships of war and infested with pirates, in such good company,” Locke sailed from Rotterdam with the Princess Mary and landed at Greenwich, Feb. 12th, 1689. Within a week of his proclamation as King, William endeavoured to send Locke as our ambassador to Prussia; but Locke declined. His main reason for his refusal was the state of his health. “What shall a man do in the necessity of application and variety of attendance on business to be followed there, who sometimes after a little motion has not breath to speak, and cannot borrow an hour or two of watching from the night without repaying it with a great waste of time the next day?” His second reason is a more curious one. The ambassador to the Elector of Brandenburg (there was no “King of Prussia” till twelve years later, Ze. till 1701) ought to be a man valiant to mingle or at least swallow strong drink, and Locke felt himself wanting in this indispen- sable qualification. “I imagine,” he writes, “ whatever I may XXXViil Introduction. do there myself, the knowing what others are doing is at least one half of my business; and I know no such rack in the world to draw out men’s thoughts as a well-managed bottle. If therefore it were fit for me to advise in this case, I should think it more for the King’s interest to send a man of equal parts, that could drink his share, than the soberest man in the kingdom?” (Locke to Lord Mordaunt, 21 Feb, 1688—9. F. B. ii. 146). The King however would hardly be persuaded to leave Locke in peace. If Cleve and Berlin were too cold, would he go to Vienna? or would he choose his own post? But Locke was not to be flattered into diplomacy when he had the great Essay concerning Human Understanding just ready for the press. He now brought out the work with as little delay as possible, and the booksellers had it early in 1690. We have now come to the last period of Locke's life, the fifteen years which followed his return from exile. During this time Locke was able to do what he had never done before, pass his days in a settled home. The home was indeed not his own, but for a bachelor it was better than his own. Locke had many years before this become acquainted with the Cud- worths, ze. the well-known writer Ralph Cudworth, his son Thomas, and his daughter Damaris. The daughter was now the second wife of Sir Francis Masham and the step-mother of Samuel Masham, who became Lord Masham, and secured for his name a place in English history by marrying Abigail Hill, the favourite of Queen Anne. Sir Francis Masham, who was one of the county members, lived at Oates, in the parish of High Laver, four or five miles from Chipping Ongar in Essex. Locke’s health made residence in London, especially in winter, almost impos- sible, so he at length took refuge with his friends at Oates, and securing his independence by paying his share of the household expenses, he passed the rest of his days as a member of their family. These were, as I have said, the days of his authorship, and his pen was at work till the last. Besides his literary employment he held offices which took him often to London. From the time of his return to England he held Biographical. XXXIX a post with light duties, that of Commissioner of Appeals ; and from 1696 till 1700 he was a member of a new “ Council of Trade and Plantations,” and as such he was much occupied with the problems of what we now call political economy. We however must confine ourselves to the humbler sphere of education. We saw that Locke during his residence in Holland had put his main ideas on this subject into a series of letters to Mr Edward Clarke. At Oates his interest in educa- tion was revived by a fresh opportunity for experiment. In the family were Lady Masham’s step-daughter Esther, a girl of six- teen, and her own son Frank, a child between four and five. Frank Masham was henceforth brought up according to Locke’s hardening system, with, as we are assured, the best results. Locke was no mere theorizer of the study and library; he delighted in bringing his new notions in contact with experience. Even when an exile in Holland he took so much interest in the little son of a Quaker merchant of Rotterdam that in after years the young man, by name Arent Furly, is spoken of by the third Lord Shaftesbury as “a kind of foster-child to Mr Locke.” To his family of foster-children was now added Frank Masham ; and doubtless the letters to Edward Clarke were referred to, and the plans there suggested carried out. At this time Locke had struck up a friendship by post with an Irish gentleman, Mr William Molyneux, a friendship which lasted for six years before the friends met. They did at last shake hands, and Molyneux spent a few days at Oates; but he died suddenly in the same year soon after his return to Ireland. The correspondence was opened by Locke in July, 1692 ; and in the following year we find Molyneux urging Locke to publish his thoughts on educa- - tion. He writes: “My brother has sometimes told me that whilst he had the happiness of your acquaintance at Leyden you were upon a work on the method of learning, and that too, . at the request of a tender father for the use of his only son. Wherefore, good Sir, let me most earnestly intreat you by no means to lay aside this infinitely useful work till you have finished it, for ’twill be of vast advantage to all mankind as well as particularly to me your entire friend. * * * There could no- x1 Introduction. thing be more acceptable to me than the hopes thereof, and that on this account : I have but one child in the world, who is now nigh four years old and promises well. His mother left him to me very young, and my affections (I must confess) are strongly placed in him. It has pleased God by the liberal provision of our ancestors to free me from the toiling care of providing a fortune for him, so that my whole study shall be to lay up a treasure of knowledge in his mind for his happiness both in this life and the next. And I have been often thinking of some method for his instruction that may best obtain the end I propose. And now, to my great joy, I hope to be abundantly supplied by your method.” (W. Molyneux to Locke, March 2nd, 1602.) Here we see that Molyneux fell into the common snare of supposing that a treasure of knowledge in the mind was the main thing to be thought of in education. The book was to expose this error. Three weeks later (28 March, 1693) Locke writes to him that the work has gone to the printer at his instance. “That which your brother tells you on this occasion, is not wholly beside the matter. The main of what I now publish, is but what was contain’d in several letters to a friend of mine, the greatest part whereof were writ out of Holland. How your brother came to know of it I have clearly forgot, and do not remember that ever I communicated it to any body there. These letters, or at least some of them, have been seen by some of my acquaintance here, who would needs persuade me ’twould be of use to publish them : your impatience to see them has not, I assure you, slackened my hand, or kept me in suspense ; and I wish now they were out, that you might the sooner see them, and I the sooner have your opinion of them. I know not yet whether I shall set my name to this discourse, and therefore shall desire you to conceal it. You see I make you my con- fessor, for you have made yourself my friend.” (L. to W. M., 28 March, 1693.) The book was indeed at first sent forth without a name ; but no attempt was made to keep the secret. Pierre Coste in the preface to his French translation published in 1695, says that the author is well known to be “the great philosopher, Mr Locke,” and Locke himself in the later Biographical. xi editions put his name to the letter in which he dedicates the book to Edward Clarke. The author wishes his friend to give his unbiassed opinion ; and accordingly in the next letter Molyneux takes exception to Locke's rule that children should not have what they ask for, still less what they cry for. The author, like most people who ask for criticism, does not seem pleased with it when given. He stoutly defends all he has written, and makes the most of inaccu- racies in the critic’s account of it. Molyneux declares himself satisfied, but his objection led Locke to explain his views on the point at greater length in the second edition. In the Molyneux correspondence there is much about educa- tion. In trying to carry out Locke’s scheme Molyneux naturally found some difficulty in securing the model tutor. He writes to his friend to help him, and holds out a prospect which we must suppose was in those days considered a good one, but which we should not have thought good enough to draw the model tutor so great a distance. “He should eat at my own table,” writes Molyneux, “and have his lodging, washing, firing and candle- light in my house, in a good handsome apartment ; and besides this, I should allow him £20 ger Ann” (W. M. to L., 2 June, 1694.) These terms seem to have tempted not an Englishman in- deed but a Scotsman; and, says Locke, “the Scotch have now here a far greater reputation for this sort of employment than our own countrymen.” (L.to W. M., 28 June, 1694.) However, Molyneux engaged a tutor without after all going so far afield. Locke was naturally anxious to learn how the experiment succeeded, and he was gratified by good reports. On July 2nd, 1695, he writes to Molyneux: “I am extremely glad to hear that you have found any good effects of my method on your son. I should be glad to know the particulars ; for though I have seen the success of it in a child of the lady, in whose house I am (whose mother has taught him Latin without knowing it herself when she began), yet I would be glad to have other instances ; because some men who cannot endure any thing should be mended in the world by a new method, object, I hear, that my way of education is impracticable. But this I can assure you, xlii Introduction. that the child above-mention’d [Z.e. Frank Masham], but nine years old in June last, has learned to read and write very well ; is now reading Quintus Curtius with his mother ; understands geography and chronology very well, and the Copernican system of our Vortex ; is able to multiply well, and divide a little ; and all this without ever having one blow for his book. The third edition is now out; I have order’'d Mr Churchill to send you one of them, which I hope he has done before this. I expect your opinion of the additions, which have much encreased the bulk of the book.” (L. to W. M,, 2 July, 1695.) In reply Molyneux sends “a short account of his little boy’s progress.” We cannot help wondering what the philosopher thought of it. Surely he must have felt that Molyneux, while seeking to carry out his instruc- tions to the letter, had missed the spirit of them, and that the Thoughts might after all be the innocent cause of the world’s being plagued with many an enfant terrible. This is what Locke found that he was responsible for. “My little boy,” writes Molyneux, “was six years old about the middle of last July. When he was but just turn’d five, he could read perfectly well ; and on the Globes could have traced out, and pointed at all the noted parts, countries, and cities of the world, both land and sea: and by five and an half, could perform many of the plainest problems on the Globe ; as the longitude and latitude, the Antipodes, the time with them and other countries, &c. and this by way of play and diversion, seldom call’d to it, never chid or beaten for it. About the same age he could read any number of figures, not exceeding six places, break it as you please by cyphers or zeros. By the time he was six, he could manage a compass, ruler and pencil, very prettily, and perform many little geometrical tricks, and advanced to writing and arithmetick ; and has been about three months at Latin, wherein his tutor observes, as nigh as he can, the method prescrib’d by you. He can read a Gaselfe, and, in the large maps of Sanson, shews most of the remarkable places as he goes along, and turns to the proper maps. He has been shewn some dogs dissected, and can give some little account of the grand traces of anatomy. And as to the formation of his mind, which you rightly observe Biographical. xliii to be the most valuable part of education, I do not believe that any child had ever his passions more perfectly at command. He is obedient and observant to the nicest particular, and at the same time sprightly, playful, and active.” (W. M. to L., 24 Aug., 1695.) Recognizing as he did the “obligation of doing something,” Locke was urged by his friends to new literary labours. Thus he answers Molyneux when the friend proposed to him a work on Morality: “ You write to me as if ink had the same spell upon me that mortar, as the Italians say, has upon others, that when I had once got my fingers into it, I could never after- wards keep them out. I grant that methinks I see subjects enough, which way so ever I cast my eyes, that deserve to be otherwise handled than I imagine they have been; but they require abler heads and stronger bodies than I have, to manage them. Besides, when I reflect on what I have done, I wonder at my own bold folly, that has so far exposed me in this nice and critical as well as quick-sighted and learned age. I say not this to excuse a lazy idleness to which I intend to give up the rest of my few days. I think every one, according to what way Providence has placed him in, is bound to labour for the publick good as far as he is able, or else he has no right to eat.” (L. to W. M,, 19 Jan., 1693.) It was no doubt this high sense of his ais to labour for the public good which induced Locke to accept from the King a post as Commissioner of “Trade and Plantations.” We must pass over his very important functions in this office and mention only his proposals for the bringing up of the children of paupers, proposals which though they were never carried out have a great interest for students of the history of education. For all pauper children over three years old he schemed a training in “working schools,” in which they would both work and be fed, though the diet was to consist simply of bread, “to which may be added without any trouble, in cold weather, if it be thought needful, a little warm water- gruel ; for the same fire that warms the room may be made use of to boil a pot of it.” We have in this scheme some rudimen- xiv Introduction. tary notions of “compulsion.” “If any boy or girl under 14 years of age shall be found begging out of the parish where they dwell, if within five miles distance of the said parish, they shall be sent to the next working school, there to be soundly whipped and kept at work till evening, so that they may be dismissed time enough to get to their place of abode that night. Or, if they live farther than five miles off from the place where they are taken begging, they are to be sent to the next house of cor- rection, there to remain at work six weeks and so much longer as till the next sessions after the end of the six weeks.” (F. B. ii. 381.) The project of these “ Working Schools” is too long to be quoted here, but I will add it in an appendix (App. B). It is not within the object of this sketch to give an account of Locke’s general correspondence, but I must mention that some of the letters preserved are to and from “Mr Newton,” whom we know as Sir Isaac. In these letters Locke appears to greater advantage than the younger and now more celebrated philosopher ; for Newton “by sleeping too often by my fire,” as he says, “got an ill habit of sleeping,” Z.¢. of not sleeping ; and when he had had next to no sleep for a fortnight he made dis- paraging remarks about Locke, called him a Hobbist and wished him dead. This done he wrote to Locke (Sep. 16th, 1693) to announce the fact and to ask pardon. A more pleasing part of the correspondence tells of mutual visits to Oates and Cambridge. On May 3rd, 1692, Newton writes to Locke from Cambridge: “Now that the churlish weather is almost over I was thinking within a post or two to put you in mind of my desire to see you here, where you shall be as welcome as I can make you. I am glad you have prevented me, because I hope now to see you the sooner. You may lodge conveniently either at the Rose Tavern or Queen’s Arms Inn.” (F. B. ii. 232) Locke went to Cambridge, where it seems he was welcome—to choose his own hotel. The Universities were very slow in recognizing the importance of the Essay of Human 1 For the letters between Newton and Locke, especially for an interesting account how Newton nearly lost his eye-sight from experiments in looking at the sun, see Lord King’s Locke (1829), pp. 220 ff. Biographical. xlv Understanding. In the summer of 1696 Locke had been told that his essay began to get some credit in Cambridge, “where,” says he, “1 think for some years after it was published it was scarce so much as looked into.” (L.to W. Molyneux, 2 July, 1696. For Essay at Oxf. see L. to W. M., 26 Ap. 1695 and Dunciad iv. 195, 6.) I have now given enough (perhaps more than was necessary) about the life of Locke to enable the reader to understand the philosopher’s connexion with education, and I hasten to the close. In spite of his wretched health he reached the age of 72. We have from his own pen a very pleasing account of a day at Oates when he expected each winter to be his last. In January, 169%, he writes from Oates to his friend Molyneux that he has escaped from London to his “wonted refuge in the more favour- able air and retirement of this place.” He goeson : “That gave me presently relief against the constant oppression of my lungs, whilst I sit still: but I find such a weakness of them still remain, that if I stir ever so little, I am immediately out of breath, and the very dressing or undressing me is a labour that I am fain to rest after to recover my breath ; and I have not been once out of my house since I came last hither. I wish nevertheless that you were here with me to see how well I am: for you would find that, sitting by the fire’s side, I could bear my part in dis- coursing, laughing, and being merry with you, as well as ever I could in my life. If you were here (and if wishes of more than one could bring you, you would be here to-day) you would find three or four in the parlour after dinner, who you would say, pass’d their afternoons as agreeably and as jocundly as any people you have this good while met with. Do not therefore figure to your self that I am languishing away my last hours under an unsociable despondency and the weight of my infirmity. "Tis true, I do not count upon years of life to come, but I thank God I have not many uneasy hours here in the four and twenty ; and if I can have the wit to keep my self out of the stifling air of London, I see no reason but, by the grace of God, I may get over this winter, and that terrible enemy of mine may use me no worse than the last did, which, as severe and as long as it was, let me yet see another summer.” (L.to W. M., 10 Jan., 169%.) ! xlvi Introduction. Six winters more spared him, and he had passed away before the seventh. On the 27th Oct., 1704, he felt that he could not live much longer. “My work here is almost at an end,” he said to Lady Masham, “and I thank God for it. I may perhaps die to-night ; but I cannot live above three or four days. Remem- ber me in your evening prayers.” He was right. The end, a very peaceful one, came the following day. If we could analyse the Zkoughts of Locke or of any other writer on education we should find they came from three sources. 1. Some are the result of the writer's own experience. 2. Some have been suggested by other minds. 3. Some have been arrived at by the working of the writer's own mind and its efforts to construct a road according to the principles of right reason. 1. We areall of course much under the influence of our own bringing up. To some extent we are conscious of this. When we think about education, we go back to our own early days and determine that some things we remember were worth imitating, others worth avoiding. With the reformers the feeling must be that most of their own and the common bringing up is wrong. As Locke says, it is their dissent from what is established that sets them upon writing (p. 26, 1. 36). But here and there they recommend some plan of their own parents’ or teachers’. A good instance of this occurs in Locke's advice to fathers to treat their children with some severity at first, and to become more familiar and companionable with them as they grow older. In- stances of the negative influence of his own experience occur throughout this work. And the influence of our own experience is often far stronger than appears. When our mind seems to be moving freely in a straight course it is often in fact deflected by being secretly repelled from some object of our dislike. £.g. Locke was not happy as a boy at Westminster, and though his mind was singularly calm and judicial we find his unpleasant remembrances prevented him from seeing the good side of the training in public schools. > & Critical. xlvil ~ 2and 3. When “in the quietness of thought” he endeavours to settle the true ideal, even the most original and active-minded man must often be beholden for guidance to other people. Some writers indeed act mainly as reporters, and pass on what others havesaid. These collectors of thoughts are by no means useless, and if their specimens are well arranged and properly labelled we may visit their museums for pleasure and instruction. But Locke is no collector. Few thinkers have ever had so little respect for tradition and authority. His belief in reason rises almost to an enthusiasm, like Wordsworth’s belief in Nature. “Nature never did betray “The heart that loved her ;” sings Wordsworth. “The faculty of reasoning seldom or never deceives those who trust to it,” says Locke. (C. of U.) No one has gone further than Locke (though oddly enough he seems here echoing Montaigne) in maintaining that our only mental possessions are what our own minds have given us. According to him, he that thinks his understanding is not to be relied on in the search of truth “cuts off his own legs that he may be carried up and down by others, and makes himself a ridiculous dependant upon the knowledge of others, which can possibly be of no use to him ; for 7 can no more know anything by another man's understanding than I can see by another mars eyes. ...Whatever other men have, it is their possession, it belongs not to me, nor can be communicated to me but by making me alike knowing ; 7¢ is a treasure that cannot be lent or made over.” (Of Study.) At first sight it might seem that if the treasure cannot be lent or made over it is mere waste of time to write or to read books. But these metaphors are necessarily imperfect. Instead of being considered as the owner of treasures which he cannot give or lend, the writer may be compared to a guide who leads us to good points of view and so enables us to see much that we should not have seen without him. Thoughts that never would have arisen from our own reflexion are welcomed by us when suggested by another, and becoming naturalized among our own thoughts are as much at home in our minds as x1viil Introduction. the aborigines. This of course is clearly recognized by Locke, What is needed is, he says, “a soul devoted to truth, assisted with letters and a free consideration of the several views and senti- ments of thinking men of all sides.” (C.of U. §1iii. p. 9.) He is indeed very severe on those who “canton out to themselves a little Goschen in the intellectual world” (24. p. 8), and though he would not spend time in collecting the opinions of others about ‘matters in which our own reason may guide us, he protests that he “does not undervalue the light we receive from others,” or forget that “there are those who assist us mightily in our endeavours after knowledge.” (Of Study.) [Perhaps the need of open-mindedness in the searcher for truth could not be better enforced than it has been by Locke in the following, which deserves to be a Jocus classicus on the subject: “We are all short-sighted, and very often see but one side of a matter : our views are not extended to all that has a connection with it. From this defect I think no man is free. We see but in part, and we know but in part; and therefore it is no wonder we conclude not right from our partial views. This might instruct the proudest esteemer of his own parts how useful it is to talk and consult with others, even such as come short of him in capacity, quickness and penetration ; for since none sees all, and we generally have different prospects of the same thing according to our different, I may say, positions to it, it is not incongruous to think, nor beneath any man to try, whether another may not have notions of things which have escaped him, and which his reason would make use of if they came into hismind? (C. of U. § iii 3D..7.) As Locke was thus alive to the advantage of taking counsel with other people we cannot but feel some surprise that he did not make himself acquainted with the best writings then extant on education, That his mind was in fact highly receptive is proved by many passages in the Z%ong/kis, which were obviously suggested by Montaigne. We must remember indeed that the Thoughts are after all only the letters to Clarke, which were written probably as the first sketch of a work on education, and Locke may have intended studying other writers before he Critical. xlix began the work itself. However this may be, we cannot but regret that from his ignorance of Ascham, Mulcaster, Brinsly and Hoole among English writers, and among the Continental writers of Comenius, who in those days was the great authority with educational reformers, many notions of things escaped our philosopher which his reason would doubtless have made use of had they come into his mind. But though Locke seems to have read little or nothing on education except what Montaigne says in his Essays, this read- ing of Montaigne brought him into the succession of thinkers who have handed on a torch of truth with a flame of increasing brightness. Perhaps no attempt can be more futile than the attempt to decide with precision what a great thinker owes to his predecessors. Where he has grasped a truth he may have discovered it for himself even when it was known long before his time ; and where he is in error, similar minds by a similar pro- cess may have come to the same result. Still though hard and fast lines are here out of the question, we may get both pleasure and profit from tracing the course of great thoughts on such a subject as education, and observing how successive thinkers develope the truths bequeathed to them, how they find fresh applications of them, and adapt them to the wants of their age. The succession of thinkers into which, as I said, Locke was introduced by Montaigne, is usually given as follows: Rabelais, Montaigne, Locke, (Fénelon?), Rousseau. A very careful study of the connexion of these writers has been made by Dr F, A. Arnstaedt in his Francois Rabelais und sein Traité d’ Education mit besondever Beriicksichtigung der pidagogischen Grundsitze Montaignes, Lockes und Rousseaw's” (Leipzig, 1872). This may be referred to by those who are not content with the out- lines I am about to give. The great intellectual revolution which we call the Rena- scence was a revival of a taste for literary beauty as displayed in the classics of Greece and Rome. The result of this revival was that all the active minds of Europe devoted themselves to the study of the ancient writers, whom they valued more for their literary skill than for their knowledge or thought. Rabelais was Q- ad 1 Introduction. a child of the Renascence in his thirst for learning, but he valued knowledge rather than literary beauty, and the instruc- tion he sketched out gave the knowledge of #zxgs, both through books, that is, verbal realism as the Germans call it, and through direct contact with the things themselves, that is, 7ealism proper. And he was not only the father of realism ; he was the first to denounce the absurdities of the schoolroom, and besides this, he made education extend far beyond instruction. Montaigne had not the Renascence thirst for learning. He by no means bowed down before a learned man or coveted the distinction of a learned man for himself, His social rank was high, and this distinction was in his eyes, as in the eyes of most people, far preferable. And thus it happened that this fine writer, with his clearness of thought and expression and his un- bounded wealth of apt illustrations, set himself against bookish- ness, and so became the great spokesman of those who were dissatisfied with the school system of the Renascence. In the time of the Renascence the admiration for learning made men strive for distinction by their knowledge of the classics, and caused them to pride themselves on second-hand knowledge and to make a display with it. This led to Mon- taigne’s vigorous onslaught on second-hand knowledge. But besides this there is another count in his indictment against the educational system of the Renascence, and this second count we must carefully distinguish from the first. He maintains against the schoolmasters that Zzowledge, whether second-hand or first, should not be made the main object in education, but that the educator should rather endeavour to train the young up to wisdom and virtue. He begins with a quotation from Rabelais : “The greatest clerks are not the wisest men.” In expanding this thought he brings out that those who have read most and remember most are not on that account those who Zzoz most, and further that those who know most are not on that account the wisest and best men. As I have already said, we cannot determine with any pre- cision how far Locke’s “thoughts” were original with him, and how far they were suggested by Montaigne. We must Critical. 1 remember that his study of Montaigne (his first study of him as far as we can learn) came late. He went to Holland when he was fifty-two years old ; and during his stay there we find the following entry in his journal : “ Feb. 14 [Lord King seems to think the year of no consequence] Montaigne by a gentle kind of negligence clothed in a peculiar sort of good language, persuades without reason : his essays are a texture of strong sayings, sentences, and ends of verses, which he so puts together that they have an extraordinary force upon men’s minds. He reasons not, but diverts himself and pleases others; full of pride and vanity” (Lord King’s Locke, First Edition, p- 160). Here we find Locke depreciating Montaigne (“he reasons not ” was in Locke’s mouth the strongest condemnation) and struggling against his influence, though half conscious that he was struggling in vain. It was not, we may be sure, to this study of Montaigne that Locke owed his favourite thoughts on education, for as he had been engaged in educating for many years, his views must have been pretty well settled, and he no doubt brought to the reading of the Essay on Education much that he also found there. Still, the chief importance of the Z/oughts is due to the prominence given by Locke to truths which had already been set forth by Montaigne. One of the most fervid thinkers of our own day, the late Charles Kingsley, writing in his most fervid time, predicted heavy judgments on the age if we “persisted much longer in substituting denuncia- tion for sympathy, énstruction for education, and Pharisaism for the Good News of the Kingdom of God” (C. Kingsley’s Life, smaller edition, i. 224). There was nothing fervid about Locke, but in his own calm way he pointed out that the best hope of correcting the general depravity of those days was to be found in educating young gentlemen and not merely instructing them. As a recent German translator of the Z/oughts, Dr Moritz Schuster, has well said, Locke’s great merit lay in this: ze Betonung der Erzichung wor dem Unterricht, the stress he laid on education, his principle—ZEducation before Instruction! (Translation of Locke in Karl Richter's Pidagogische Bib- liothek.) ‘This principle does indeed, as Dr Schuster says, a2 X Ti Introduction. raise Locke above his Utilitarianism, and thus it is to him a defence which even the keen shafts of Cardinal Newman cannot penetrate. (See [dea of a University, by J. H. Newman. Dis- course vii. § 4.) Montaigne, as we saw, was much influenced by his social position. Locke also wrote “as a gentleman for gentlemen.” ‘“ That most to be taken care of,” he writes, ‘is the gentleman’s calling ; for if those of that rank are by their education once set right, they will quickly bring all the rest into order.” That a human being could need education as a human being, might be thought a conception beyond the minds of Locke and his con- temporaries, and yet Comenius had already said: “I aim at securing for all human beings a training in all that is proper to their common humanity. Generalem nos intendimus institu- tionem omnium qui homines nati sunt, ad omnia humana.’ (Didact. Mag. quoted in Buisson’s Dictionnaire, Com.) This is a much higher ideal than Locke’s. He saw indeed that “children should not be suffered to lose the consideration of Human Nature in the shufflings of outward conditions” (zzf7a, § 117, p. 103, 1. 10), but he seems, to me at least, not to have thought enough of our common human nature in considering education. - Everything must be settled with an eye to class distinctions, “the several degrees of men,” as he says; and we want “the easiest, shortest, and likeliest way to produce vir- tuous, useful and able men in their distinct callings.” (Epistle Dedicatory, infra.) As we saw, he himself thought only of the gentleman’s calling; and his reflexions were limited if not dis- torted by this exclusiveness. v Some have maintained that the chief merit of the 7%oughts lay in the prominence given to physical education, which is the first point treated of : indeed a recent selection of important 1 The English editor of Locke, Mr J. A. St John, has well said, “Locke’s con- ception of education differed very materially from that which generally prevails. He understood by it rather the training and disciplining of the mind into good habits than the mere tradition of knowledge, on which point he agrees entirely with the ancients.” (Note to C. of U. § iii. 3.) Hermann Hettner, in his Liferatur-Ges- chichte d. 18ten Sahrhunderts (Part i. p. 157), quotes in proof of this Locke’s letter to T.ord Peterborough, in Lord King’s Locke, pp. 4, 5. (See note to § 147, ##/7a.) Critical. Li passages from the great writers on education (E. Sperber’s,, Giitersloh) gives Locke’s advice about physical education only. His own sufferings from ill-health no doubt made our author so urgent on this point. He tells us almost pathetically that if in pursuit of knowledge we are negligent of health we are likely to “rob God of so much service and our neighbour of all that help, which in a state of health, with moderate knowledge, we might have been able to perform. He that sinks his vessel by overloading it, though it be with gold and silver and precious stones, will give his owner but an ill account of his voyage.” (Of Study.)’/ Locke has no doubt done good service in drawing attention to the importance of physical education and by his ‘advice about it; but Rabelais and Montaigne had made as much account of the training of the body, and so had some English writers, Sir Thomas Elyot in his Governor, and, still more remarkably, Richard Mulcaster in his Posztions. The bodily health being cared for, we come to the gentle- man’s essential requirements in mind and manners, and Locke gives them in the following order as the order of their import- ance: I, Virtue ; 2, Wisdom ; 3, Breeding ; 4, Learning (infra, § 134, p. 115). His object in writing is to show how these may be secured. A writer much venerated by our philosopher looks to the emotional side of our nature to supply the best moral restraints. “Love worketh no ill to his neighbour : therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.” (Rom. xiii. 10.) But in Locke the emo- tions were encroached upon by the intellect; and he would train the gentleman to consider always what is reasonable and to submit to reason’s dictates. As a preparation for this obe- dience to their own judgment when ripe the young should be trained to act in accordance with the judgments of the reason- able people who bring them up. As soon as possible children are to be dealt with as reasonable creatures ; but when they are too young for this they are to be worked upon by awe of the parental authority and by love of reputation. There are two truths about education which Locke applies to everything with an almost tiresome iteration : liv Introduction. 1. The secret of instruction in all arts, and indeed in con- duct too, is to get what we would teach settled in the pupil by practice till it becomes a 4abit. The child's actions and the child’s learning are to be thought of as tending to /Aabits. “That which I cannot too often inculcate is that whatever the matter be about which it is conversant whether great or small, the main (I had almost said only) thing to be considered in every action of a child is what influence it will have upon his mind; what habit it tends to and is likely to settle in him; how it will become him when he is bigger; and if it be encouraged, whither it will lead him when he is grown up.” (/zf7a § 107, p- 86, 1. 16.) 2. The grand influence of all is the influence of companions. “Having named company 1 am almost ready to throw away my pen, and trouble you no further on this subject; for since that does more than all precepts, rules and instructions, methinks ’tis almost wholly in vain to make a long discourse of other things and to talk of that almost to no purpose.” (§ 70, p. 45, I. 32.) 1. The immense effect of practice both in moral and intel- lectual education has been dwelt upon by the greatest writers on education in our own century, Pestalozzi and Froebel. We have some touching instances of the way in which Pestalozzi taught even poor children to practise self-denial to relieve the distress of others. 2. Locke seems in constant difficulties about company. The young gentleman may not be sent to school because his bringing up requires a much more complete superintend- ence than a school-master can give, and also because /e must not be exposed to the “prevailing infection” of school-fellows. But Locke sees clearly that children brought up at home must be left a good deal in the charge of servants, and of servants he has no higher opinion than of school-boys. Again and again he refers to this difficulty and shows an uncomfortable con- sciousness that here is a rock on which the good ship will probably go to pieces. For the only hope of safety he looks to the father aided by the tutor. But few fathers can and still fewer will give the amount of time and attention to their son’s Critical. Iv bringing up which Locke’s scheme requires from them. As for the tutor, such a tutor as Locke describes is as Hallam calls him a “pheenix,” or indeed a still rarer bird, as we could not expect to see one every hundred years. He is to be a professor of the whole art of living, and must teach the young man how to behave when he goes into the world as the dancing-master must teach him how to “make a leg” when he goes into the drawing-room. Locke thinks of virtue, wisdom and breeding, as things inculcated and worked into the youth. But thinkers such as Pestalozzi and Froebel since Locke’s time, and indeed Comenius before his time, have held that the seeds of virtue and wisdom are implanted in us by Nature, and that these must be developed under the “benevolent superintendence” of parents and educators. If we take up this standpoint there seems far too much artifice in many of Locke’s proposals. They even at times verge on “white lies” or “pious frauds,” as did those of Rousseau, who in this was probably Locke’s disciple. Learning, which school-masters are apt to make the chief thing in education or even to take for education itself, Locke considers as the least important of his requisites; and we have seen that in this lies the main excellence of his book. When we come to his suggestions about learning we find them in one respect very disappointing. About other matters he lays down the rule that in every action of the child we are to consider mainly, if not exclusively, what influence the action will have on the child’s mind and what habit it will strengthen. But when he comes to learning Locke in spite of his own rule discusses not the effect of this or that study on the mind, but whether or no the knowledge or skill will be useful to a gentleman... It seems strange that the philosopher who had made a study of the human understanding did not bring this study to bear more directly on instruction, and show us how different intel- lectual exercises affect the mind. But except in the case of geometry he has passed over this consideration altogether, and seems rather to consider how the young gentleman may acquire most easily the knowledge that will be “useful” to him than how he may get the best intellectual training. But it seems to me \' J av J vi Introduction. that in this last and least important part Locke has expressed himself carelessly and done himself some injustice ; and I can by no means agree with Cardinal Newman in the following: “No- thing of course can be more absurd than to neglect in education those matters which are necessary for a boy’s future calling; but the tone of Locke's remarks evidently implies more than this, and is condemnatory of any teaching which tends to the general cultivation of the mind? (Idea of a University, vii. p. 160.) A more impartial critic would, I think, find the Zo7¢ of Locke not in the passages which Newman quotes, but in such passages as the following: “To this perhaps it will be objected that to manage the understanding as I propose would require every man to be a scholar and to be furnished with all the materials of knowledge, and exercised in all ways of reasoning. To which I answer that it is a shame jor those that have time and the means to attain knowledge to want any help or assistance for the improvement of their understandings that can be got; and to such I would be thought here chiefly to speak” (C. of U.§ 7). From this it would seem that Locke, far from condemning any teaching which tends to the general cultivation of the mind, looks upon the acquire- ment of knowledge mainly as a means of “improving the under- standing.” Again, after pointing out certain intellectual infirmi- ties and what comes of them, he says: “These are the common and most general miscarriages which I think men should avoid or rectify in the right conduct of their understandings, and skould be particularly taken care of in education; the business whereof in respect of knowledge is not as I think to perfect the learner in all or any one of the sciences, but to give his mind that ‘freedom, that disposition, and those habits that may enable him to attain any part of knowledge he shall apply himself to, or stand in need of, in the future course of his life” (C. of U. § 12: see too Note “Magisterially dictating” p. 224 #nfra.) These passages are indeed not in the Zhoughts concerning Education; but even from that work alone my conception of Locke’s tone is very different from Cardinal Newman’s. This is ~ Locke’s account of the educator’s task: “Due care being had to keep the body in strength and vigour, so that it may be able to Critical. vii obey and execute the orders of the ind, the next and principal business is to set the mind right” (infra § 31, p. 20). It is true he is thinking here rather of the moral than of the intellec- tual side of the mind, as he is also in the following passage : “He that at any rate procures his child a good mind, well- principled, tempered to virtue and usefulness and adorned with civility and good breeding, makes a better purchase for him than if he laid out money for an addition of more earth to his former acres” (§ 9o, p. 67, 1. 10). Had Newman charged Locke with thinking too exclusively of the character and not enough of the intellect he could not be so easily answered from the Zhoughts on Education; but this would be a singular charge to bring against the author of the Conduct of the Human Understanding. . When Locke says that what the youth is to receive from education is “habits woven into the very principles of his nature” (§ 42, p. 28) he must be understood to include intellectual habits as well as moral (see p. 75, 1. 40, Zzfra). And so far as I can form a notion of Locke’s tone from a careful study of the whole book I must decide that I know no writer on education less open to the charge of indifference to the cultiva- tion of the mind. I have said that Rabelais gave the first impulse to realism, zc. the study of #ings, both verbal realism and realism proper. Locke does indeed commend “real” knowledge, using the word “real” in this meaning which we have now lost. He sees that the “knowledge of things that fall under the senses” (p. 40, 1. 8) is suitable for children. But in this matter he is far less distinct _ than Comenius; and if he had written on instruction only, his book would deserve the epithets “médiocre et judicienx” (the first at all events) which Michelet has bestowed upon it. (Nos Fils.) Those who wish thoroughly to understand Locke's 7%oughts concerning Education should study not only the book so called, but also the more carefully written Essay on the Conduct of the Human Understanding. (See Note on next page.) viii Introduction. NOTE. Henry Hallam, a great admirer of Locke's, speaks of the Conduct of the Understanding as a treatise ‘‘on the moral discipline of the in- tellect,” and he ‘‘cannot think any parent or instructor justified in neglecting to put this little treatise in the hands of a boy about the time when the reasoning faculties become developed” (Zz. of E. Pt. 1V. c. iii, §§ 122, 124). He also commends the Z %oughts on Education, but in a safe and seesaw fashion which is, to me at least, intensely irritating. Here is a specimen (I am responsible for the type): ‘‘ Locke many years afterwards [Z.e. after the appearance of Milton's 7Z7actate] turned his thoughts to education with all the advantages that a strong understanding and entire disinterestedness could give him ; but, as we should imagine, with some necessary deficiencies of experience, though we hardly perceive mucH of them in his writings. He looked on the methods usual in his age with severity, or some would say with preju- dice; yet I know not by what proof we can refute his testimony.” We are further informed that Locke ‘has uttered, to say the least, more good sense on the subject than will be found in any preceding writer.” This sentence is not quite so safe. If valuable truth is “good sense,” more will be found in the Didactica Magna of Comenius than in the Thoughts concerning Education. Hallam in this part of his work does not seem fortunate when he leaves an assertion untrimmed. Much,” he tells us, ‘has been written, and often well, since the days of Locke ; but he is the chief source from which it has been ultimately derived.” This statement cannot indeed well be refuted, but neither can it be proved, and it seems to me very questionable. But Hallam is soon on safe ground again. He continues: ‘‘and though the Zmile is more attractive in manner, it may be doubtful whether it is as rational and practicable as the Treatise on Education.” This is very cautiously put indeed. We should hardly shew more caution if we said: ‘‘ Though the writings of M. Jules Verne are more attractive, especially to the young, it may be doubtful whether they are as rational and practicable as some of the articles in the Revue des Deux Mondes.” I said that Hallam’s assertion which would give Locke the credit of being the chief source from which later writers have ‘‘ ultimately” drawn, could not well be refuted. But any one who will be at the pains to study the subject, especially under the guidance of Dr Arnstaedt, will I think agree that the word “ ultimately” is somewhat out of place here. Arnstaedt shows the following points of agreement in Rabelais, Montaigne, Locke, and Rousseau. 1. Care for a single child only, and by consequence neglect of the education of the people. 2. The degrading of learning from the first place and placing the main stress on virtue and the formation of character. 3. Importance of physical edu- cation. 4. The condemnation of the harshness commonly shown to the young, and the demand that they should be made happy even in work. Critical. lix 5. Condemnation of large schools. 6. The employment of a governor who is to be wise rather than learned. 7. Condemnation of instruction which inculcates not Zow to think but w/a# to think, or simply what to remember. 8. Teaching at first hand, Ze. by the senses or by direct experience. ¢. Travel as a part of education. To these might pro- bably be added several more points of agreement, e.g. the employment of games for educational purposes, and the training in some handi- craft. For the use of those who wish to compare Locke with Montaigne I copy from Arnstaedt the following list of parallel passages which have been observed by Coste, who translated Locke into French, became Frank Masham’s tutor at Oates while Locke was living there, and afterwards published an annotated edition of Montaigne. Locke §. 7, Montaigne Bk. i. ch. 25: Lo i 20, M. "i.25: L. 23, Ml. {ii. 13: Lar, M, lag: LoS Modi. 8: L. jo, M. Hii. 8:1. 43, M. il. 8: L.:qo, M. #1, 8: L. 81, M. 1.25; Lt. 07, M. 1.34: LI. 04, M. 1.18: YL. o6, M. il. 8: 1. 08, M. i 25: L. 08, M. i724: 1.109, M. 1.22: Late, M. 1.22: L.a33, M. 1. 9: lo143, M. Los: Liygq, M01 23: L.vgs, M. Hi. “2: L.147, M. 1.25% 1.166, M. i. 5: L.1or,M. 1. 25: 1.108, M. 1.25: 1.216, M. 1 25. TO EDWARD CLARKE, OF, CHIPLEY, Esq; SIR, HESE Thoughts concerning Education, which now come abroad into the World, do of Right belong to You, being written several Years since for Your Sake, and are no other than what You have already by You in my Letters. I have so little vary'd any Thing, but only the Order of what was sent you at different Times, and on several Occasions, that the Reader will eastly find, in the Familiarity and Fashion of the Stile, that they were rather the private Conversation of two Friends, than a Discourse design’d for publick View. The Importunity of Friends is the common Apology for Publications Men are afraid to own themselves forward to. But you know I can truly say, that if some, who having heard of these Papers of mine, had not pressd to see them, and afterwards to have them printed, they had lain dormant still in that Privacy they were design'd for. But those, whose Fudgment I defer much to, telling me, that they were per- Ixii The Epistle Dedicatory. suaded, that this rough Draught of mine might be of some Use, if made more publick, touckh'd upon what will always be very prevalent with me: For I think it every Man's tndis- . pensible Duty, to do all the Service he can to his Country ; and I see not what Difference he puts between himself and his Cattle, who lives without that Thought. This Subject / is of so great Concernment, and a right Way of Education is of so general Advantage, that did I find my Abilities answer my Wishes, I should not have needed Exhortations or Impor- tunities from others. However, the Meanness of these Papers, and my just Distrust of them, shall not keep me, by the Shame of doing so little, from contributing my Mite, when there is no more requir'd of me than my throwing it into the publick Receptacle. And if there be any more of their Size and Notions, who lik d them so well, that they thought them worth printing, I may flatter myself they will not be lost Labour to every Body. I myself have been consulted of late by so many, who pro- fess themselves at a loss how to breed their Children, and the — early Corruption of Youth is now become so general a Com- plaint, that he cannot be thought wholly impertinent, who brings the Consideration of this Matter on the Stage, and offers something, if it be but to excite others, or afford Matter of Correction: For Errors in Education should be less in- dulg’d than any. These, like Faults in the first Concoction, that are never mended in the second or third, carry their afterwards incorrigible Taint with them thro’ all the Parts and Stations of Life. I am so far from being conceited of any Thing I have here offer’ d, that I should not be sorry, even for your sake, if some one abler and Sitter for such a Task would in a just The Epistle Dedicatory. Ixiii Treatise of Education, suited to our English Gentry, rectify the Mistakes I have made in this; it being much more desirable to me, that young Gentlemen should be put into (that which every one ought to be solicitous about) the best Way of being Jorm’d and instructed, than that my Opinion should be receiv d concerning it. You will, however, in the mean Time bear me Witness, that the Method here proposd has had no ordinary Effects upon a Gentleman's Son it was not design’'d Jor. I will not say the good Temper of the Child did not very much contribute to tt; but this I think You and the Parents are satisfy'd of, that a contrary Usage, according to the ordinary disciplining of Children, would not have mended that Temper, nor have brought him to be in love with his Book, to take a Pleasure in Learning, and to desire, as he does, to be taught more than those about him think fit always to teach him. But my Business is not to recommend this Treatise fo You, whose Opinion of it I know already; nor it to the World, either by your Opinion or Patronage. The well Educating of their Children is so much the Duty and Concern of Parents, and the Welfare and Prosperity of the Nation so much depends on it, that I would have every one lay it seriously to Heart ; and after having well examin’d and distinguish’ d what Fancy, Custom, or Reason advises in the Case, set his helping Hand to promote every where that Way of training up Youth, with Regard to their several Conditions, which is the easiest, shortest, and likeliest to produce virtuous, useful, and able Men in their distinct Callings; tho that most to be taken Care of is the Gentleman's Calling. For if those of tha: Rank are by their Education once set right, they will quickly bring all the rest into Order. Ixiv The Epistle Dedicatory. 1 know not whether I have done more than shewn my good Wishes towards it in this short Discourse; such as it is, the World now has it, and if there be any Thing in it worth their Acceptance, they owe their Thanks to you for it. My Affection to You gave the first Rise to it, and I am pleas'd, that I can leave to Posterity this Mark of the Friendship that has been between us. For I know no greater Pleasure in this Life, nor a better Remembrance fo be left behind one, than a long continued Friendship with an honest, useful, and worthy Man, and Lover of his Country. I am, SIR, Your most humble and most faithful Servant, FOHN LOCKE. Marek 7, 1692. (i. e. 1693] DL SAFE SOME THOUGHTS CONCERNING EDUCATION === Sound Mind in a sound Body, is a short, KY Ed but full Description of a happy. State in kd this World. He that has these two, has little more to wish for; and he that iin 5 either of them, will be but little the better for any thing else. Men’s Happiness or Misery is most part o _their own making. He, whose Mind directs not wisely, will never take the right Way ; ‘and he, whose Body is crazy and feeble, will never be able to advance in it./ I confess, there are some Men’s Constitutions of Body and Mind so vigorous, 1o and well fram’d by Nature, that they need not much Assist- ance from others; but by the strength of their natural Genius, they are from their Cradles carried towards what is excellent ; and by the Privilege of their happy Constitutions, are able to do Wonders. But Examples of this Kind are 15 but few; and I think I may say, that of all the Men we meet with, nine Parts of ten are what they are, good or evil, useful or not, by their Education. ’'Tis that which makes “the great Difference in Mankind. The little, or almost insensible Impressions on our tender Infancies, have very po important and lasting Consequences: And there ’tis, as in the Fountains of some Rivers, where a gentle Application of the Hand turns the flexible Waters in Channels, that make them take quite contrary Courses; and by this Direction Q. I z * ‘Hardening the body. [§§ 1—5 given them at first im the Source, they receive different Tendencits, ang arrive at last at very remote and distant Places. § 2. I imagine the Minds of Children as easily turn’d 5 this or that Way, as Water it self: And though this be the principal Part, and our main Care should be about the Inside, yet the Clay-Cottage is not to be neglected. I shall therefore begin with the Case, and consider first the Health ins of the Body, as that which perhaps you may 10 “®% rather expect from that Study I have been thought more peculiarly to have apply’d my self to; and that also which will be soonest dispatch’d, as lying, if I guess not amiss, in a very little Compass. § 3. How necessary Health is to our Business and 15 Happiness; and how requisite a strong Constitution, able to endure Hardships and Fatigue, is to one that will make any Figure in the World, is too obvious to need any Proof. § 4. The Consideration I shall here have of ea/tk, shall 20 be, not what a Physician ought to do with a sick and crazy Child ; but what the Parents, without the Help of Physick, should do for the Preservation and Improvement of an healthy, or at least not sickly Constitution in their Children. And this perhaps might be all dispatch’d in this one short 25 Rule, zzz. That Gentlemen should use their Children, as the honest Farmers and substantial Yeomen do theirs. But because the Mothers possibly may think this a little too hard, and the Fathers too short, I shall explain my self more particularly ; only laying down this as a general and certain 30 Observation for the Women to consider, zzz. That most _ es Children’s Constitutions are. either spoil'd, or emaerness: at least harm’d, by Cockering and Tenderness. § 5. The first Thing to be taken care of, is, that Chil- dren be not too warmly clad or cover'd, Winter or Summer. The Face when we are born, is no less tender than any other Part of the Body. ’Tis Use alone hardens it, and makes it more able to endure the Cold. And therefore the Scy#iian Philosopher gave a very significant Answer to the A#kenian, who wonder'd how he go could go naked in Frost and Snow. How, said the Scythian, can you endure your Face expos'd to the sharp Warmth. §§ 5, 6] Not too warm clothing. 3 Winter Air? My Face is usd to it, said the Athenian. Think me all Face, reply’d the Scythian. Our Bodies villke endure any Thing, that from the Beginning they are accus- toms’d to. An eminent Instance of this, though in the contrary 5 Excess of Heat, being to our present Purpose, to shew what Use can do, I shall set down in the Author's Words, as I meet with it in a late ingenious Voyage. } nuns 3% The Heats, says he, are more violent in Voyage du “Malta, than in any Part of Europe: They Leann 10 “exceed those of Rome itself, and are perfectly stifling; “and so much the more, because there are seldom any “cooling Breezes here. This makes the common People “as black as Gypsies: But yet the Peasants defy the Sun; “they work on in the hottest Part of the Day, without 15 “Intermission, or sheltering themselves from his scorching “Rays. This has convinc’d me, that Nature can bring “itself to many Things, which seem impossible, provided “we accustom ourselves from our Infancy. The Malleses “do so, who harden the Bodies of their Children, and 20 “reconcile them to the Heat, by making them go stark “naked, without Shirt, Drawers, or any Thing on their “ Heads, from their Cradles till they are ten Years old.” Give me leave therefore to advise you not to/fence too carefully against the Cold of this our Climate. /There 25 are those in Zngland, who wear the same Clothes Winter and Summer, and that without any Inconvenience, or more Sense of Cold than others find. But if the Mother will needs have an Allowance for Frost and Snow, for fear of Harm, and the Father, for fear of Censure, be sure let zo not his Winter-Clothing be too warm: And amongst other Things, remember, that when Nature has so well covered his Head with Hair, and strengthen’d it with a Year or two’s Age, that he can run about by Day without a Cap, it is best that by Night a Child should also lie without 35 one; there being nothing that more exposes to Headachs, Colds, Catarrhs, Coughs, and several other Diseases, than keeping the Head warm. ,~ §6. I have said Ze here, because the principal Aim : of my Discourse is, how a young Gentleman should be 40 _ brought up from his Infancy, which in all Things will not 7 3—2 4 Wet feet. [$8 6, 7 | so perfectly suit the Education of Daughters ; though where | the Difference of Sex requires different Treatment, ‘twill be no hard Matter to distinguish. ! § 7. I will also advise his Feet 70 be wask'd every Day 5 es in cold Water, and to have his .Skoes so thin, "that they might leak and ZZ in» Water, whenever he comes near it. Here, I fear, I shall have the Mistress and Maids too against me. One will think it too filthy, and the other perhaps too much Pains, to make clean his 10 Stockings. But yet Truth will have it, that his Health is much more worth than all such Considerations, and ten times as much more. And he that considers how mis- chievous and mortal a Thing taking Wet in the Feet is, to those who have been bred nicely, will wish he had, with the 15 poor People’s Children, gone barefoot, who, by that Means, come to be so reconcil’d by Custom to Wet in their Feet, that they take no more Cold or Harm by it, than if they were wet in their Hands. And what is it, I pray, that makes this great Difference between the Hands and the 20 Feet in others, but only Custom? I doubt not, but if a Man from his Cradle had been always us’d to go bare-foot, whilst his Hands were constantly wrapt up in warm Mittins, and cover'd with Hand-shoes, as the Duick call Gloves; 1 doubt not, I say, but such a Custom would make taking 25 Wet in his Hands as dangerous to him, as now taking Wet in their Feet is to a great many others. (The Way to prevent this, is, to have his Shoes made so as to leak Water, and his Feet wash’d constantly every Day in cold Water: It is recommendable for its Cleanliness; but that which 30 aim at in it, is Health; and therefore I limit it not precisely to any Time of the Day. I have known it us'd every Night with very good Success, and that all the Winter, without the omitting it so much as one Night in extreme cold Weather; when thick Ice coverd the Water, the Child 35 bathed his Legs and Feet in it, though he was of an Age not big enough to rub and wipe them himself, and when he began this Custom was puling and very tender. But the great End being to harden those Parts by a frequent and familiar Use of cold Water, and thereby to prevent the 40 Mischiefs that usually attend accidental taking Wet in the Feet in those who are bred otherwise, I think it may be § 7] or Cold water. 5 left to the Prudence and Convenience of the Parents, to chuse either Night or Morning. The Time I deem indiffer=-__ ent, so the Thing be effectually done. The Health and Hardiness procured by it, would be a good Purchase at a / much dearer rate. To which if I add the preventing of 35 Corns, that to some Men would be a very valuable Con- sideration. But begin first in the Spring with luke-warm, and so colder and colder every time, till in a few Days you come to perfectly cold Water, and then continue it so Winter and Summer. For it is to be observed in this, as in all other Alterations from our ordinary rind Way of Living, the Changes must be made by : gentle and insensible Degrees; and so we may bring our Bodies to any thing, without Pain, and without Danger. How fond Mothers are like to receive this Doctrine, isnot 1x hard to foresee. What can it be less, than to murder their tender Babes, to use them thus? What! put their Feet in cold Water in Frost and Snow, when all one can do is little enough to keep them warm? A little to remove their Fears by Examples, without which the plainest Reason 20 is seldom hearken’d to: Seneca tells us of himself, Zp. 53, and 83, that he used to bathe himself in cold Spring-Water in the midst of Winter. This, if he had not thought it not only tolerable, but healthy too, he would scarce have done, in an exorbitant Fortune, that could well have borne the 25 Expence of a warm Bath, and in an Age (ror he was then old) that would have excused greater Indulgence. If we think his Stoical Principles led him to this Severity, let it be so, that this Sect reconciled cold Water to his Sufferance. What made it agreeable to his Health? For that was not 30 impaird by this hard Usage. But what shall we say to Horace, who warm’d not himself with the Reputation of any Sect, and least of all affected Stoical Austerities? yet * he assures us, he was wont in the Winter Season to bathe himself in cold Water. But, perhaps, /2a/y will be thought 35 much warmer than Zngland, and the Chillness of their Waters not to come near ours in Winter. If the Rivers of [taly are warmer, those of Germany and Poland are much colder, than any in this our Country, and yet in these, the Fews, both Men and Women, bathe all over, at all Seasons 40 of the Year, without any Prejudice to their Health. And —- o 6 Swimming. Open air. [§§ 7—9 every one is not apt to believe it is Miracle, or any peculiar Virtue of St Winifred's Well, that makes the cold Waters of that famous Spring do no Harm to the tender Bodies that bathe in it. Every one is now full of the 5 Miracles done by cold Baths on decay’d and weak Con- stitutions, for the Recovery of Health and Strength ; and therefore they cannot be impracticable or intolerable for the improving and hardening the Bodies of those who are in better Circumstances. io If these Examples of grown Men be not thought yet to reach the Case of Children, but that they may be judg’d still to be too tender, and unable to bear such Usage, let them examine what the Germans of old, and the /77s/ now, do to them, and they will find, that Infants too, as tender as 15 they are thought, may, without any Danger, endure Bathing, not only of their Feet, but of their whole Bodies, in cold Water. And there are, at this Day, Ladies in the High- lands of Scoz/and who use this Discipline to their Children in the midst of Winter, and find that cold Water does them 20 no Harm, even when there is Ice in it. § 8. T shall not need here to mention Swimming, when he is of an Age able to learn, and has any one to teach him. ’Tis that saves many a Man’s Life; and the Romans thought it so necessary, that they 25 rank’d it with Letters; and it was the common Phrase to Swimming. mark one ill-educated, and good for nothing, That he had " neither learnt to read nor to swim: Nec liZeras didicit nec natare. But, besides the gaining a Skill which may serve him at need, the Advantages to Health by often daz/ing in 30 cold Water during the Heat of Summer, are so many, that I think nothing need be said to encourage it; provided this one Caution be us’d, That he never go into the Water when Exercise has at all warm’d him, or left any Emotion in his Blood or Pulse. 35 $9. Another thing that is of great Advantage to every one’s Health, but especially Children’s, is to be much in the 5 open Air, and as little as may be by. the Fire, ” even in Winter. By this he will accustom him- self also to Heat and Cold, Shine and Rain; all which if a 40 Man’s Body will not endure, it will serve him to very little Purpose in this World; and when he is grown up, it is too / § 9, 10] Caution established by habit. 7 late to begin to use him to it. It must be got early, and by Degrees. Thus the Body may be brought to bear almost any thing. If I should advise him to play in the Wind and Sun without a Hat, 1 doubt whether it could be borne. There would a Thousand Objections be made against it, which at last would amount to no more, in truth, than being Sun-burnt. And if my young Master be to be kept always in the Shade, and never expos’d to the Sun and Wind for fear of his Complexion, it may be a good, way to make him a Beau, but not a Man of Business. {3d altho’ greater 10° Regard be to be had to Beauty in the Daughters; yet I will take the Liberty to say, that the more they are in the Ai, without prejudice to their Faces, the stronger and healthier they will be; and the nearer they come to the Hardships of their Brothers in their Education, the greater Advantage 15 will they receive from it all the remaining Part of their Lives. )'. § 10. Playing in the gpen Air has but this one Danger in it, that I know; and that is, that when he is hot with running up and down, he should sit or lie down on the 20 cold or moist Earth. This I grant; and drinking cold Drink, when they are hot with Labour or Exercise, brings more People to the Grave, or to the Brink of it, by Fevers, and other Diseases, than anything I know. These Mis- . chiefs are easily enough prevented whilst he is little, being 25 then seldom out of Sight. And if, during his Childhood, he be constantly and rigorously kept from sitting on the Ground, or drinking any cold Liquor whilst he is hot, the - ‘Custom of forbearing, grown into Habit, will help much to preserve him, when he is no longer under his Maid’s or Tutor’s Eye. This is all I think can be - done in the Case: For, as Years increase, Liberty must come with them; and in a great many things he must be trusted to his own Conduct, since there cannot always be Habits. 30 a Guard upon him, except what you have put into his own 35 Mind by good Principles, and establish’d Habits, which is the best and surest, and therefore most to be taken care of. For, from repeated Cautions and Rules, never so often ° inculcated, you are not to expect any thing either in this, or any other Case, farther than Practice has establish’d them 40 into Habits. 8 Against tight lacing. [§§ 11, 12 § 11. One thing the mention of the Girls brings into my Mind, which must not be forgot; and that is, that your Son’s Clothes be never made strait, especially about the Breast. Let nature have Scope to * 5 fashion the Body as she thinks best. She works of herself a great deal better and exacter than we can direct her., And if Women were themselves to frame the Bodies of their Children in their Wombs, as they often endeavour to mend their Shapes when they are out, we should as certainly 10 have no perfect Children born, as we have few well-shap’d that are s#raiz-lacd, or much tamper’d with. This Consider- ation should; methinks, keep busy People (I will not say ignorant Nurses and Bodice-makers) from meddling in a Matter they understand not; and they should be afraid to 15 put Nature out of her Way in fashioning the Parts, when they know not how the least and meanest is made. And yet I have seen so many Instances of Children receiving great Harm from S#rait-lacing, that I cannot but conclude there are other Creatures as well as Monkeys, who, little zo wiser than they, destroy their young ones by senseless Fond- ness, and too much embracing. _§ 12. Narrow Breasts, short and stinking Breath, ill Lungs, and Crookedness, are the natural and almost con- \stant Effects of Zard Bodice, and Clothes that pinch. That 25 way of making slender Wastes, and fine Shapes, serves but the more effectually to spoil them. Nor can there indeed but be Disproportion in the Parts, when the Nourishment prepared in the several Offices of the Body cannot be dis- tributed as Nature designs. And therefore what wonder is 3o it, if, it being laid where it can, on some Part not so braced, it often makes a Shoulder or Hip higher or bigger than its / just Proportion? ’Tis generally known, that the Women of China, (imagining I know not what kind of Beauty in it) by bracing and binding them hard from their Infancy, have 35 very little Feet. I saw lately a Pair of Cina Shoes, which I was told were for a grown Woman: They were so exceed- ingly disproportion’d to the Feet of one of the same Age among us, that they would scarce have been big enough for one of our little Girls. Besides this, ’tis observ’d, that their 40 Women are also very little, and short-liv’d; whereas the Men are of the ordinary Stature of other Men, and live to a Clothes. v §§ 12—14] Diet. ; 9 proportionable Age. These Defects in the Female Sex in that Country, are by some imputed to the unreasonable Binding of their Feet, whereby the free Circulation of the Blood is hinder'd, and the Growth and Health of the whole Body suffers. And how often do we see, that some small 5 Part of the Foot being injurd by a Wrench or a Blow, the whole Leg or Thigh thereby lose their Strength and Nourish- ment, and dwindle away? How much greater Inconveni- ences may we expect, when the Z%orax, wherein is placed the Heart and Seat of Life, is unnaturally compress'd, and 10 hinderd from its due Expansion? § 13. As for his Diet, it ought to be very. plain and simple; and, if I might advise, Flesh should be forborne as long as he is in Coats, or at least till / he is two or three Years old. But whatever Ad¥antage this 15 may be to his present and future Health and Strength, I fear it will hardly be consented to by Parents, misled by the Custom of eating too much Flesh themselves, who will be apt to think their Children, as they do themselves, in Danger to be starv’d, if they have not Flesh at least twice a- 2¢ day. This I am sure, Children would breed their Teeth with much less Danger, be freer from Diseases whilst they. were little, and lay the Foundations of an healthy and strong Constitution much surer, if they were not cramm’d so much as they are by fond Mothers and foolish Servants, and were 25 kept wholly from Flesh the first three or four Years of their Lives. But if my young Master must needs have Flesh, let it be but once a Day, and of one Sort at a Meal. Plain Beef, Mutton, Veal, &c. without other Sauce than Hunger, is 30- best; and great care should be used, that he eat Bread plentifully, both alone and with every thing else; and what- ever he eats that is solid, make him chew it well. We English are often negligent herein; ffom whence follow Indigestion, and other great Inconveniences. 1.35 § 14. For Breakfast and Supper, Milk, Milk-Potlage,. Water-Gruel, Flummery, and twenty other things, that we are wont to make in England, are very fit for Children; only, / o Diet. in all these, let care be taken that they be plain, and without much Mixture, and very sparingly season’d with Sugar, or rather none at all; especially a/Z Spice, and other things that | 10 Meals. [§ 14 may heat the Blood, are carefully to be avoided. Be sparing also of .Sz/f in the seasoning of all his Victuals, and use him not to high-season’d Meats. Our Palates grow into a relish and liking of the Seasoning and Cookery which by 5 Custom they are set to; and an overmuch Use of Salt, besides that it occasions Thirst, and over-much Drinking, has other ill Effects upon the Body. I should think that a good Piece of well-made and well-bak’d brown Bread, some- times with, and sometimes without Butter or Cheese, would 10 be often the best Breakfast for my young Master. I am sure ’tis as wholesome, and will make him as strong a Man as greater Delicacies; and if he be used to it, it will be as pleasant to him. If he at any Time calls for Victuals be- tween Meals, use him to nothing but dry Bread. If he be 15 hungry more than wanton, Bread alone will down; and if he be not hungry, ’tis not fit he should eat. By this you | will obtain two good Effects: 1. That by Custom he | will come to be in love with Bread; for, as I said, our Palates and Stomachs too are pleased with the things we 20 are used to. 2. Another Good you will gain hereby is, That * you will not teach him to eat more nor oftener than Nature requires. I do not think that all People’s Appetites are alike; some have naturally stronger, and some weaker Stomachs. But this I think, that many are made Gormands 25 and G/uttons by Custom, that were not so by Nature: And I see in some Countries, Men as lusty and strong, that eat but two Meals a-day, as others that have set their Stomachs by a constant Usage, like Larums, to call on them for four or five. The Romans usually fasted till Supper, the only 30 set Meal even of those who eat more than once a-day; and those who us’d Breakfasts, as some did, at eight, some at ten, others at twelve of the Clock, and some later, neither eat Flesh, nor had any thing made ready for them. Au- gustus, when the greatest Monarch on the Earth, tells us, he 35 took a Bit of dry Bread in his Chariot. And Sezeca, in his 83rd Epistle, giving an Account how he managed himself, even when he was old, and his Age permitted Indulgence, says, That he used to eat a Piece of dry Bread for his Dinner, without the Formality of sitting to it, tho’ his Estate 40 would as well have paid for a better Meal (had Health requird it) as any Subject’s in England, were it doubled. §§ 14, 15] Meals. 11 The Masters of the World were bred up with this spare Diet; and the young Gentlemen of Rome felt no want of “ Strength or Spirit, because they eat but once a Day. Or if’ it happen’d by Chance, that any one could not fast so long as till Supper, their only set Meal, he took nothing but a 5 Bit of dry Bread, or at most a few Raisins, or some such slight Thing with it, to stay his Stomach. This Part of Temperance was found so necessary both for Health and Business, that the Custom of only one Meal a day held out against that prevailing Luxury which their Zastern Con- 10 quests and Spoils had brought in amongst them; and those who had given up their old frugal Eating, and made Feasts, yet began them not till the Evening. And more than one set Meal a-day was thought so monstrous, that it was a Reproach as low down as Cesar’s Time, to make an Enter-15 tainment, or sit down to a full Table, till towards Sun-set; and therefore, if it would not be thought too severe, I should judge it most convenient that my young Master should have nothing but Bread too for Breakfast. You cannot imagine of what Force Custom is; and I impute a greatzo. Part of our Diseases in England, to our eating too much Flesh, and too little Bread. y § 15. As to his Meals, 1 should think it best, that - as much as it can be conveniently avoided, they should not be kept constant] ur; For when Custom has fix’d his Eating to certain stated Periods, his Stomach will expect Victuals at the usual / Hour, and grow peevish if he passes it; either fretting itself into a troublesome Excess, or flagging into a down- right want of Appetite. Therefore I would have no Time 30 kept constantly to for his Breakfast, Dinner and Supper, but rather vary’d almost every Day. And if betwixt these, which I call Meals, he will eat, let him have, as often as he calls for it, good dry Bread. If any one think this too hard and sparing a Diet for a Child, let them know, that a 35 Child will never starve nor dwindle for want of Nourishment, who, besides Flesh at Dinner, and Spoon-meat, or some such other thing, at Supper, may have good Bread | o Beer as. often as he has a Stomach. For thus, upon second thoughts, I should judge it best for Children to be orderd. The Morning is generally design’d for Study, to 12 Drinking. [8 15—18 which a full Stomach is but an ill Preparation. Dry Bread, though the best Nourishment, has the least Temp- tation; and no body would have a Child cramm’d at Breakfast, who has any Regard to his Mind or Body, and 5 would not have him dull and unhealthy. Nor let any one think this unsuitable to one of Estate and Condition. A Gentleman in any Age ought to be so bred, as to be fitted to bear Arms, and be a Soldier. But he that in this, breeds his Son so, as if he design’d him to sleep over his Life in 10 the Plenty and Ease of a full Fortune he intends to leave him, little considers the Examples he has seen, or the Age he lives in. : § 16. His Drink should be only Small Beer; and - Drzen that too he should never be sufferd to have 15 "between Meals, but after he had eat a Piece of Bread. The Reasons why I say this are these. i § 17. 1. More Fevers and Surfeits are got by People’s drinking when they are hot, than by any one Thing I know. Therefore, if by Play he be hot and dry, Bread will 20 ill go down ; and so if he cannot have D#zZ but upon that Condition, he will be forced to forbear; for, if he be very hot, he should by no means drzn%; at least a good Piece of Bread first to be eaten, will gain Time to warm the Beer Blood-hot, which then he may drink safely. If he be very 25 dry, it will go down so warm’d, and quench his Thirst better ; - and if he will not drink it so warm’d, abstaining will not hurt him. Besides, this will teach him to forbear, which is an Habit of greatest Use for Health of Body and Mind too. 30 $18 2. Not being permitted to #rizk without eating, will prevent the Custom of having the Cup often at his Nose; a dangerous Beginning, and Preparation to Good- Fellowship. Men often bring habitual Hunger and Thirst on themselves by Custom. And if you please to try, you 35 may, though he be wean’d from it, bring him by Use to such a Necessity again of Drinking in the Night, that he will not be able to sleep without it. It being the Lullaby used by Nurses to still crying Children, I believe Mothers generally find some Difficulty to wean their Children from 40 drinking in the Night, when they first take them Home. Believe it, Custom prevails as much by Day as by Night; §§ 18—20] Against strong drinks. 13 and you may, if you please, bring any one to be thirsty every Hour. I once livid in a House, where, to appease a froward Child, they gave him Drink as often as he cry’d ; so that he was constantly bibbing. And tho’ he could not speak, yet 5 he drank more in twenty-four Hours than I did. Try it when you please, you may with small, as well as with strong Beer, drink your self into a Drought. The great Thing to be minded in Education is, what Habits you i settle ; and thereiore in this, as all other Things, ae 10 - do not begin to make any Thing customary, the Practice - whereof you would not have continue and increase. It is convenient for Health and Sobriety, to @7ink no more than natural Thirst requires ; and he that eats not salt Meats, nor drinks strong Drink, will seldom thirst between Meals, un- I5 less he has been accustom’d to such unseasonable Drinking. § 19. Above all, take great Care that he seldom, if ever, taste any Wine or strong Drink. There is ons Dit nothing so ordinarily given Children in Zng- land, and nothing so destructive to them. They ought never to drink any strong Liquor but when they need it as a Cordial, and the Doctor prescribes it. And in this Case it is, that Servants are most narrowly to be watch’d, and most severely to be reprehended when they transgress. Those mean sort of People, placing a great Part of their 25 Happiness in strong Drink, are always forward to make court to my young Master by offering him that which they love best themselves: And finding themselves made merry by it, they foolishly think ’twill do the Child no Harm. This you are carefully to have your Eye upon, and restrain 30 with all the Skill and Industry you can, there being nothing that lays a surer Foundation of Mischief, both to Body and Mind, than Children’s being us’d to strong Drink, especially to drink in private with the Servants. § 20. Fruit makes one of the most difficult Chapters in 35 the Government of Health, especially that of Children. Our first Parents ventur'd Paradise for it; and ’tis no wonder our Children cannot stand the Temptation, tho’ it cost them their Health. The Regulation of this cannot come under any one general Rule ; for I am 40 by no means of their Mind, who would keep Children nN o Fruit, 14 Fruit. [§§ 20, 21 almost wholly from Fruit, as a Thing totally unwholesome for them: By which strict Way, they make them but the more ravenous after it, and to eat good or bad, ripe or unripe, all that they can get, whenever they come at it. 5 Melons, Peaches, most sorts of Plums, and all sorts of Grapes in England, 1 think Children should be w/olly kept J7om, as having a very tempting Taste, in a very unwhole- some Juice ; so that if it were possible, they should never so much as see them, or know there were any such Thing. 10 But Strawberries, Cherries, Gooseberries, or Currans, when thorough ripe, I think may be very safely allow’d them, and that with a pretty liberal Hand, if they be eaten with these Cautions: 1. Not after Meals, as we usually do, when the Stomach is already full of other Food: But I 15 think they should be eaten rather before or between Meals, and Children should have them for their Breakfast. 2. Bread eaten with them. 3. Perfectlyripe. If they are thus eaten, I imagine them rather conducing than hurtful to our Health. Swummer-Fruits, being suited to the hot Season 20 of the Year they come in, refresh our Stomachs, languishing and fainting under it; and therefore I should not be altogether so strict in this Point, as some are to their Children; who being kept so very short, instead of a moderate Quantity of well-chosen Aru:#, which being allow’d 25 them would content them, whenever they can get loose, or bribe a Servant to supply them, satisfy their Longing with any Trash they can get, and eat to a Surfeit. Apples and Pears too, which are thorough ripe, and have been gather'd some Time, I think may be safely eaten at ° 30 any Time, and in pretty large Quantities, especially Apples ; which never did any body Hurt, that I have heard, after October. «Fruits also dry’d without Sugar, I think very wholesome. But Sweet-meats of all Kinds are to be avoided; which, 5 whether they do more Harm to the Maker or Eater, is not easy to tell. This I am sure, it is one of the most inconve- nient Ways of Expence that Vanity hath yet found out; and so I leave them to the Ladies. § 21. Of all that looks soft and effeminate, 40 nothing is more to be indulg’d Children, than Sleep. In this alone they are to be permitted to have their Sleep. § 21] Sleep. 15 full Satisfaction; nothing contributing more to the Growth and Health of Children, than Skep. All that is to be regulated in it, is, in what Part of the twenty-four Hours they should take it; which will easily be resolved, by only saying that it is of great Use to accustom ’em to rise early 35 in the Morning. It is best so to do, for Health ; and he that, from his Childhood, has, by a settled Custom, made rising betimes easy and familiar to him, will not, when he is a Man, waste the best and most useful Part of his Life in Drowsiness, and lying a-bed. If Children therefore are 10 to be call’d up early in the Morning, it will follow of course, that they must go to Bed betimes; whereby they will be accustom’d to avoid the unhealthy and unsafe Hours of Debauchery, which are those of the Evenings; and they who keep good Hours, seldom are guilty of any great 15 Disorders. I do not say this, as if your Son, when grown up, should never be in Company past eight, nor ever chat over a Glass of Wine ’till Midnight. You are now, by the accustoming of his tender Years, to indispose him to those Inconveniences as much as you can; and it will be no 20 small Advantage, that contrary Practice having made sitting up uneasy to him, it will make him often avoid, and very seldom propose Midnight-Revels. Butif it should not reach so far, but Fashion and Company should prevail, and make him live as others do above Twenty, ’tis worth the while to 25 accustom him to early Rising and early Going to Bed, be- tween this and that, for the present Improvement of his Health and other Advantages. Though I have said, a large Allowance of Sep, even as much as they will take, should be made to Children 30 when they are little; yet I do not mean, that it should always be continued to them in so large a Proportion, and they suffer’d to indulge a drowsy Laziness in their Bed, as they grow up bigger. But whether they should begin to be restrained at seven or ten Years old, or any other Time, 35 is impossible to be precisely determined. Their Tempers, Strength, and Constitutions, must be consider’d. But some Time between seven and fourteen, if they are too great Lovers of their Beds, I think it may be seasonable to begin to reduce them by Degrees to about eight Hours, which is 40 generally Rest enough for healthy grown People. If you 16 Sleep and bedding. [§§ 21, 22 have accustom’d him, as you should do, to rise constantly very early in the Morning, this Fault of being too long in Bed will easily be reform’d, and most Children will be forward enough to shorten that Time themselves, by covet- 5 ing to sit up with the Company at Night; tho’ if they be not look’d after, they will be apt to take it out in the Morning, which should by no means be permitted. They should con- stantly be call’d up and made to rise at their early Hour; but great Care should be taken in waking them, that it be 10 not done hastily, nor with a loud or shrill Voice, or any other sudden violent Noise. This often affrights Children, and does them great Harm; and sound .S/e¢p thus broke off, with sudden Alarms, is apt enough to discompose any one. When Children are to be waken’d out of their S/ep, be sure 15 to begin with a low Call, and some gentle Motion, and so draw them out of it by degrees, and give them none but kind Words and Usage, ’till they are come perfectly to themselves, and being quite dress’d, you are sure they are thoroughly awake. The being forc’d from their Sle, how 20 gently soever you do it, is Pain enough to them ; and Care should be taken not to add any other Uneasiness to it, especially such that may terrify them. § 22. Let his Bed be lard, and rather Quilts than Fo Feathers. Hard Lodging strengthens the Parts; 25 "whereas being bury’'d every Night in Feathers melts and dissolves the Body, is often the Cause of Weak- ness, and Forerunner of an early Grave. And, besides the Stone, which has often its Rise from this warm Wrapping of the Reins, several other Indispositions, and that which is 30 the Root of them all, a tender weakly Constitution, is very much owing to DonriBeds Besides, he that is used to hard Lodging at Home, will not miss his Sleep (where he has most need of it) in his Travels Abroad, for want of his soft Bed, and his Pillows laid in order. And therefore, I 35 think it would not be amiss, to make /iis Bed after different Fashions, sometimes lay his Head higher, sometimes lower, that he may not feel every little Change he must be sure tol meet with, who is not design’d to lie always in my young Master's Bed at Home, and to have his Maid lay all Things 40 in Print, and tuck him in warm. The great Cordial of Nature is Sep. He that misses that, will sufier by it; and §§ 22—24] Action of the bowels. 17 he is very unfortunate, who can take his Cordial only in his Mother’s fine gilt Cup, and not in a wooden Dish. He that can sleep soundly, takes the Cordial; and it matters not whether it be on a soft Bed or the hard Boards. ’Tis Sleep only that is the Thing necessary. ~ § 23. One Thing more there is, Which has a great Influ- ence upon the Health, and that is, going #0 Stool regularly: People that are very /Joose, have sel- dom strong Thoughts, or strong Bodies. But the Cure of this, both by Diet and Medicine, being much more easy 10 than the contrary Evil, there needs not much to be said about it: For if it come to threaten, either by its Violence or Duration, it will soon enough, and sometimes too soon, make a Physician be sent for; and if it be moderate or short, it is commonly best to leave it to Nature. On the other 15 Side, Costiveness has too its ill Effects, and is much harder to be dealt with by Physick; purging Medicines, which seem to give Relief, rather increasing them than removing the Evil. § 24. It being an Indisposition I had a particular Reason to enquire into, and not finding the Cure of it in 20 Books, I set my Thoughts on work, believing that greater Changes than that might be made in our Bodies, if we took the right Course, and proceeded by rational Steps. 1. Then I consider'd, that Going fo Stool, was the Effect of certain Motions of the Body; especially of the peristaltick 25 Motion of the Guts. 2. I considerd, that several Motions, that were not perfectly voluntary, might yet, by Use and constant Appli- cation, be brought to be habitual, if by an unintermitted Custom they were at certain Seasons endeavour’d to be 30 constantly produced. 3. I had observ’d some Men, who by taking after Supper a Pipe of Tobacco, never fail’d of a .S#o/, and began to doubt with myself, whether it were not more Custom, than the Tobacco, that gave them the Benefit of Nature; or 35 at least, if the Tobacco did it, it was rather by exciting a vigorous Motion in the Guts, than by any purging Quality; for then it would have had other Effects. Having thus once got the Opinion that it was possible to make it habitual, the next Thing was to consider what 40 Way and Means was the likeliest to obtain it. Q. 2 Costiveness. 18 Action of the bowels. [8§ 24—27 4. Then I guess’d, that if a Man, after his first eating in the Morning, would presently solicit Nature, and try whether he could strain himself so as to obtain a S70’, he might in Time, by a constant Application, bring it to be 5 habitual. \ § 25. The Reasons that made me chuse this Time, were, 1. Because the Stomach being then empty, if it re- ceiv'd any Thing grateful to it (for I would never, but in Case of Necessity, have any one eat but what he likes, and 10 when he has an Appetite) it was apt to embrace it close by a strong Constriction of its Fibres; which Constriction, I suppos’d, might probably be continu’d on in the Guts, and so increase their peristaltick Motion, as we see in the Jews, that an inverted Motion, being begun any where below, 15 continues itself all the whole Length, and makes even the Stomach obey that irregular Motion. 2. Because when Men eat, they usually relax their Thoughts, and the Spirits then, free from other Employ- ments, are more vigorously distributed into the lower Belly, 20 which thereby contribute to the same Effect. 3. Because, whenever Men have Leisure to eat, they have Leisure enough also to make so much Court to Madam Cloacina, as would be necessary to our present Purpose; but else, in the Variety of human Affairs and Accidents, it 25 was impossible to affix it to any Hour certain, whereby the Custom would be interrupted. Whereas Men in Health seldom failing to eat once a Day, tho’ the Hour chang’d, the Custom might still be preserv’d. § 26. Upon these Grounds the Experiment began to be 30 try’d, and I have known none who have been steady in the Prosecution of it, and taken Care to go constantly to the Necessary-House, after their first eating, whenever that happen’d, whether they found themselves call’d on or no, and there endeavour to put Nature upon her Duty, but in a 35 few Months they obtain’d the desired Success, and brought themselves to so regular an Habit, that they seldom ever fail'd of a Stool after their first eating, unless it were by their own Neglect: For, whether they have any Motion or no, if they go the Place, and do their Part, they are sure to have 40 Nature very obedient. § 27. I would therefore advise, that this Course should §§ 27—29] Medicine. 19 be taken with a Child every Day presently after he has eaten his Breakfast. Let him be set upon the Stool, as if dis- burthening were as much in his Power as filling his Belly; and let not him or his Maid know any thing to the contrary, but that it is so; and if he be forc’d to endeavour, by being 5 hinder’d from his Play or eating again ’till he has been effectually at .S#ool, or at least done his utmost, I doubt not but in a little while it will become natural to him. For there is reason to suspect, that Children being usually intent on their Play, and very heedless of any Thing else, often let 10 pass those Motions of Nature, when she calls them but gently; and so they, neglecting the seasonable Offers, do by degrees bring themselves into an habitual Costiveness. That by this Method costiveness may be prevented, I do more than guess ; having known by the constant Practice of it for 15 some Time, a Child brought to have a S#oo/ regularly after his Breakfast every Morning. § 28. How far any grown People will think fit to make Trial of it, must be left to them; tho’ I cannot but say, that considering the many Evils that come from that Defect, of a 20 requisite Easing of Nature, I scarce know any Thing more conducing to the Preservation of Health, than this is. Once in four and twenty Hours, I think is enough; and no body, I guess, will think it too much. And by this Means it is to be obtain’d without Physick, which commonly proves 25 very ineffectual in the Cure of a settled and habitual Cos- tiveness. § 29. This is all I have to trouble you with concerning his Management in the ordinary Course of his Health. Perhaps it will be expected from me, that I should give 30 some Directions of FPlkysick, to prevent Diseases; en for which I have only this one, very sacredly to ~~ 2%% be observ’d, never to give Children any Physick for Preven- . tion. The Observation of what I have already advis’d, will, I suppose, do that better than the Ladies’ Diet-drinks or 35 Apothecaries’ Medicines. Have a great Care of tampering that Way, lest, instead of preventing, you draw on Diseases. Nor even upon every little Indisposition is Physick to be given, or the Physician to be call’d to Children, especially if he be a busy Man, that will presently fill their Windows 40 with Gally-pots, and their Stomachs with Drugs. It is safer Qe 20 Mind formed by Education. [$§ 20—32 to leave them wholly to Nature, than to put ’em into the Hands of one forward to tamper, or that thinks Children are to be curd, in ordinary Distempers, by any Thing but Diet, or by a Method very little distant from it: It seeming 5 suitable both to my Reason and Experience, that the tender Constitutions of Children should have as little done to them as is possible, and as the absolute Necessity of the Case requires. A little cold-still’d red Poppy-water, which is the true Surfeit-water, with Ease, and Abstinence from Flesh, 10 often puts an end to several Distempers in the Beginning, which, by too forward Applications, might have been made lusty Diseases. When such a gentle Treatment will not stop the growing Mischief, nor hinder it from turning into a form’d Disease, it will be time to seek the Advice of some 15 sober and discreet Physician. In this Part, I hope, I shall find an easy Belief; and no body can have a Pretence to doubt the Advice of one who has spent some Time in the Study of Physick, when he counsels you not to be too / forward in making use of Physick and Physicians. 20 § 30. And thus I have done with what concerns the Body and Health, which reduces itself to these few and easy observable Rules : Plenty of gpen Air, Exercise, and Sleep, plain Diet, no Wine or strong Drink, and very little or no Physick, not too warm and strait Clothing, especially the 25 Head and Feet kept cold, and the eet often us'd to cold Water, and expos’d to wet. § 31. Due Care being had to keep the Body in Strength and Vigour, so that it may be able to obey and execute the Orders of the Mind; the next and principal Business is, to set the Mind right, that on all Occasions it may be dispos’d to consent to nothing but what may be suitable to the Dignity and Excellency of a rational Creature. § 32. If what I have said in the beginning of this Dis- 35 course be true, as I do not doubt but it is, zzz. That the Difference to be found in the Manners and Abilities of Men is owing more to their Zducation than to any Thing else, / we have reason to conclude, that great Care is to be had o the forming Children’s Minds, and giving them that Season- go ing early, which shall influence their Lives always after: For when they do well or ill, the Praise and Blame will be Mind. 30 §§ 32—35] Self-denial must be taught early. 21 laid there; and when any Thing is done awkwardly, the common saying will pass upon them, that it’s suitable to their Breeding. + §33. As the Strength of the Body lies chiefly in being able to endure Hardships, so also does that of the Mind. 5 And the great Principle and Foundation of all Virtue and Worth is plac’d in this: That a Man is able to deny Aim- rE Tile Wort Denton Geis 5s heh, Soo the Sopot Joa the other Way. 19) § 34. The great Mistake I have observ'd in People’s breeding their Children, has been, that this has not been taken Care enough of in its due Season; that the Mind has not been made obedient to Discipline, and pliant to Reason, when at first it was most tender, most 15 easy to be bow’d. Parents being wisely ordain’d by Na- ture to love their Children, are very apt, if Reason watch, not that natural Affection very warily, are apt, I say, to let it run into Fondness. They love their little ones and tis their Duty; but they often, with them, cherish their Faults 20 too. They must not be cross’d, forsooth; they must be permitted to have their Wills in all Things; and they being in their Infancies not capable of great Vices, their Parents think they may safe enough indulge their Irregularities, and make themselves Sport with that pretty Perverseness which 25 they think well enough becomes that innocent Age. But to a fond Parent, that would not have his Child corrected for a perverse Trick, but excus’d it, saying it was a small Matter, Solon very well reply’d, Aye, but Custom is a great. one. 30 § 35. The Fondling must be taught to strike and call Names, must have what he cries for, and do what he pleases. Thus Parents, by humouring and cocker- ing them when /Zi#tle, corrupt the Principles of Nature in their Children, and wonder afterwards to taste the bitter 35 Waters, when they themselves have poison’d the Foun- tain. For when their Children are grown up, and these ill Habits with them; when they are now too big to be dandled, and their Parents can no longer make “Use of them as Play-things, then they complain that the Brats are 40 untoward and perverse; then they are offended to see them Early. 22 Spoiling children and its results. [§§ 35, 36 wilful, and are troubled with those ill Humours which they themselves infus’d and fomented in them; and then, perhaps too late, would be glad to get out those Weeds which their own Hands have planted, and which now have taken too 5 deep Root to be easily extirpated. For he that hath been /us’d to have his Will in every Thing, as long as he was in / Coats, why should we think it strange, that he should desire it, and contend for it still, when he is in Breeches? Indeed, as he grows more towards a Man, Age shews his Faults 10 the more ; so that there be few Parents then so blind as not to see them, few so insensible as not to feel the ill Effects of their own Indulgence. He had the Will of his Maid before he could speak or go; he had the Mastery of his Parents ever since he could prattle; and why, now he is grown up, 15 is stronger and wiser than he was then, why now of a sudden must he be restrain’d and curb’d? Why must he at seven, fourteen, or twenty Years old, lose the Privilege, which the Parents’ Indulgence ’till then so largely allow’d him? Try it in a Dog or an Horse or any other Creature, and see 20 whether the ill and resty Tricks they have learn’d when young, are easily to be mended when they are knit; and yet none of those Creatures are half so wilful and proud, or half so desirous.to be Masters of themselves and others, as Man. ; 25 § 36. Weare generally wise enough to begin with them when they are very young, and discipline befimes those other Creatures we would make useful and good for somewhat. They are only our own Offspring, that we neglect in this Point; and having made them ill Children, we foolishly expect they should be good Men. For if the Child must ave Grapes or Sugar-plumbs when he has a Mind to them, rather than make the poor Baby cry or be out of Humour ; why, when he is grown up, must he not be satisfy’d too, if his Desires carry him to Wine or Women? They are 35 Objects as suitable to the Longing of one of more Years, as what he cry’d for, when little, was to the Inclinations of a Child. The having Desires accommodated to the Appre- hensions and Relish of those several Ages, is not the Fault; but the not having them subject to the Rules and Restraints go of Reason: The Difference lies not in having or not having Appetites, but in the Power to govern, and deny our selves §§ 36, 37] Training in cruelty and vanity. 23 in them. He that is not us’d to submit his Will to the Reason of others when he is young, will scarce hearken to submit to his own Reason when he is of an Age to make Use of it. And what kind of a Man such an one is like to prove, is easy to foresee. 5 § 37. These are Oversights usually committed by those who seem to take the greatest Care of their Children’s Edu- cation. But if we look into the common Management of Children, we shall have Reason to wonder, in the great Dissoluteness of Manners which the World complains of, 10 that there are any Footsteps at all left of Virtue. I desire to know what Vice can be nam’d, which Parents, and those about Children, do not season them with, and drop into em the Seeds of, as soon as they are capable to receive them? I do not mean by the Examples they give, and 15 the Patterns they set before them, which is Encourage- ment enough; but that which I would take notice of here is, the downright teaching them Vice, and actual putting them out of the Way of Virtue. Before they can go, they principle ’em with Violence, Revenge, and Cruelty. Give 20 me a Blow, that I may beat him, is a Lesson which most Children every Day hear; and it is thought nothing, because their Hands have not Strength to do any Mischief. But I ask, Does not this corrupt their Mind? Is not this the Way of Force and Violence, that they are set in? And if 25 they have been taught when little, to strike and hurt others . by Proxy, and encourag’d to rejoice in the Harm they have brought upon them, and see them suffer, are they not prepar’d to do it when they are strong enough to be felt themselves, and can strike to some Purpose ? 30 The Coverings of our Bodies which are for Modesty, Warmth and Defence, are by the Folly or Vice of Parents recommended to their Children for other Uses. They are made Matters of Vanity and Emulation. A Child is set a-longing after a new Suit, for the Finery of it; and when the 35 little Girl is trick’d up in her new Gown and Commode, how can her Mother do less than teach her to admire herself, by calling her, Zer little Queen and her Princess? Thus the little ones are taught to be proud of their Clothes before they can put them on. And why should they not continue 40 to value themselves for their Outside Fashionableness of the . 24 Training in lying and intemperance. [§ 37 Taylor or Tirewoman’s Making, when their Parents have so early instructed them to do so? Lying and Equivocations, and Excuses little different from Lying, are put into the Mouths of young People, and 5 commended in Apprentices and Children, whilst they are for their Master’s or Parents’ Advantage. And can it be thought, that he that finds the Straining of Truth dispens’d with, and encourag’d, whilst it is for his godly Master's Turn, will not make Use of that Privilege for himself, when 10 it may be for his own Profit? Those of the meaner Sort are hinder’d, by the Straitness of their Fortunes, from encouraging /ntemperance in their Children by the Temptation of their Diet, or Invitations to eat or drink more than enough; but their own ill Exam- 15 ples, whenever Plenty comes in their Way, shew, that ’tis not the Dislike of Drunkenness or Gluttony, that keeps them from Excess, but want of Materials. But if we look into the Houses of those who are a little warmer in their Fortunes, their Eating and Drinking are made so much 20 the great Business and Happiness of Life, that Children are thought neglected, if they have not their Share of it. Sauces and Ragoos, and Food disguis’d by all the Arts of Cookery, must tempt their Palates, when their Bellies are full ; and then, for fear the Stomach should be overcharg’d, a Pretence 25 is found for t'other Glass of Wine to help Digestion, tho’ it only serves to increase the Surfeit. Is my young Master a little out of Order, the first Question is, What will my Dear eat? What shall I get Jor thee? Eating and Drinking are instantly press’d; and 30 every body’s Invention is set on Work to find out something luscious and delicate enough to prevail over that Want of Appetite, which Nature has wisely order’d in the Beginning of Distempers, as a Defence against their Increase; that being freed from the ordinary Labour of digesting any new 35 Load in the Stomach, she may be at leisure to correct and master the peccant Humours. And where Children are so happy in the Care of their Parents, as by their Prudence to be kept from the Excess of their Tables, to the Sobriety of a plain and simple Diet, yet 40 there too they are scarce to be preserv’d from the Contagion that poisons the Mind; though, by a discreet Management §§ 37,38] Safeguard in early training to self-denial. 25 whilst they are under Tuition, their Healths perhaps may be pretty well secure, yet their Desires must needs yield to the Lessons which every where will be read to them upon this Part of Epicurism. The Commendation that eating well has every where, cannot fail to be a successful Incentive to 5 natural Appetites, and bring them quickly to the Liking and Expence of a fashionable Table. This shall have from every one, even the Reprovers of Vice, the Title of Living well. And what shall sullen Reason dare to say against the publick Testimony? Or can it hope to be heard, if it 10 should call that Zuxury, which is so much own’d and uni- versally practis’d by those of the best Quality? This is now so grown a Vice, and has so great Supports, that I know not whether it do not put in for the Name of Virtue ; and whether it will not be thought Folly, or want of 15 Knowledge of the World, to open one’s Mouth against it? And truly I should suspect, that what I have here said of it, might be censur’d as a little Satire out of my Way, did I not mention it with this View, that it might awaken the Care and Watchfulness of Parents in the Education of their Children, 20 when they see how they are beset on every Side, not only with Temptations, but Instructors to Vice, and that, per- haps, in those they thought Places of Security. I shall not dwell any longer on this subject, much less run over all the Particulars that would shew what Pains are 25 us'd to corrupt Children, and instil Principles of Vice into them: But I desire Parents soberly to consider, what Irre- gularity or Vice there is which Children are not visibly taught, and whether it be not their Duty and Wisdom to provide them other Instructions. 30 § 38. It seems plain to me, that the Principle of all Virtue and Excellency lies in a Power of denying | : our selves the Satisfaction of our own Desires, | <*%¢ where Reason does not authorize them. This Power is to be got and improv’d by Custom, made easy and familiar by 35 an early Practice. If therefore I might be heard, I would advise, that, contrary to the ordinary Way, Children should be us’d to submit their Desires, and go without their Longings, even from their very Cradles. The first Thing they should learn to know, should be, that they were not to have 40 any Thing because it pleas’d them, but because it was 26 Do not reward importunity. thought fit for them. If Things suitable to the were supply’d to them, so that they were never suff have what they once cry’d for, they would learn to be ¢ tent without it, would never, with Bawling and Peevishnes 5 contend for Mastery, nor be half so uneasy to themselve and others as they are, because from the first Beginn they are not thus handled. If they were never sufferd t obtain their Desire by the Impatience they express'd for it, they would no more cry for another Thing, than they do fo : 10 the Moon. : § 39. I say not this, as if Children were not to » indulg’d in any Thing, or that I expected they should in Hanging-Sleeves have the Reason and Conduct of Counsel- lors. I consider them as Children, who must be tenderly 15 us’d, who must play, and have Play-things. That which I mean, is, that whenever they crav’d what was not fit for them to have or do, they should not be permitted it because they were Zi#tle, and desird it: Nay, whatever they were importunate for, they should be sure, for that very Reason, 20to be deny’d. I have seen Children at a Table, who, whatever was there, never ask’d for any Thing, but con- tentedly took what was given them: And at another Place, I have seen others cry for every thing they saw; must be serv’d out of every Dish, and that first too. What made 25 this vast difference but this? that one was accustom’d to have what they call’d or cry’d for, the other to go without it. The younger they are, the less I think are their unruly and disorderly Appetites to be comply’d with; and the less Reason they have of their own, the more are they to be 30 under the absolute Power and Restraint of those in whose Hands they are. From which I confess it will follow, that none but discreet People should be about them. If the World commonly does otherwise, I cannot help that. Iam saying what I think should be; which if it were already in 35 Fashion, I should not need to trouble the World with a Dis- course on this Subject. But yet I doubt not, but when it is consider’d, there will be others of Opinion with me, that the sooner this Way is begun with Children, the easier it will be for them and their Governors too; and that this ought to be 40 observ’d as an inviolable Maxim, that whatever once Is deny’d them, they are certainly not to obtain by Crying or Parent and Child. 27 rtunity, unless one has a Mind to teach them to be ent and troublesome, by rewarding them for it when ley are so. | ~ § 40. "Those therefore that intend ever to govern their hildren, should begin it whilst they are very little, and look that they perfectly comply with the Will of their Parents. Would you have your Son obe- dient to you when past a Child; be sure then to establish the Authority of a Father as soon as he is capable of Sub- mission, and can understand in whose Power he is. If you 10 would have him stand in awe of you, imprint it in his Infancy; and as he approaches more to a Man, admit him ‘nearer to your Familiarity; so shall you have him your obedient Subject (as is fit) whilst he is a Child, and your affectionate Friend when he is a- Man. For methinks they 15 mightily misplace the Treatment due to their Children, who are indulgent and familiar-when they are little, but severe to them, and keep them at a distance, when they are grown up : For Liberty and Indulgence can do no good to C/u/- dren; their Want of Judgment makes them stand in need 20 of Restraint and Discipline; and on the contrary, Imperi- ousness and Severity is but an ill Way of treating Men, who have Reason of their own to guide them ; unless you have a mind to make your Children, when grown up, weary of you, and secretly to say within themselves, When will you die, 25 Father ? § 41. I imagine every one will judge it reasonable, that their Children, w/hen little, should look upon their Parents as their Lords, their absolute Governors, and as such stand in awe of them; and that when they come to 30 riper Years, they should look on them as their best, as their only sure Friends, and as such love and reverence them. The Way I have mention’d, if I mistake not, is the only one to obtain this. We must look upon our Children, when grown up, to be like our selves, with the same Passions, the 35 same Desires. We would be thought rational Creatures, and have our Freedom; we love not to be uneasy under constant Rebukes and Brow-beatings, nor can we bear severe Humours and great Distance in those we converse with. Whoever has such Treatment when he is a Man, 40 Early. 28 Father and Son. [§§ 11s will look out other Company, other Friends, other Conv sation, with whom he can be at Ease. If therefore a st Hand be kept over Children from the Beginning, they wil in that Age be tractable, and quietly submit to it, as never 5 having known any other: And if, as they grow up to the Use of Reason, the Rigour of Government be, as they deserve it, gently relax’d, the Father's Brow more smooth’d to them, and the Distance by Degrees abated, his former Restraints will increase their Love, when they find it was 10 only a Kindness to them, and a Care to make them capable to deserve the Favour of their Parents, and the Esteem of every Body else. 2 § 42. Thus much for the settling your Authority over your Children in general. Fear and Awe ought to give you 15 the first Power over their Minds, and Love and Friendship in riper Years to hold it: For the Time must come, when they will be past the Rod and Correction; and then, if the Love of you make them not obedient and dutiful, if the Love of Virtue and Reputation keep them not in laudable 20 Courses, I ask, what Hold will you have upon them to turn them to it? Indeed, Fear of having a scanty Portion if they displease you, may make them Slaves to. your Estate, but they will be nevertheless ill and wicked in private ; and that Restraint will not last always. Every Man must some 25 Time or other be trusted to himself and his own Conduct; and he that is a good, a virtuous, and able Man, must be made so within. And therefore what he is to receive from Education, what is to sway and influence his Life, must be something put into him betimes; Habits woven into the 30 very Principles of his Nature, and not a counterfeit Car- riage, and dissembled Outside, put on by Fear, only to avoid the present Anger of a Father who perhaps may disinherit him. - § 43. This being laid down in general, as the Cours 35 punishments, Lat Ought to be taken, ’tis fit we now come to * consider the Parts of the Discipline to be us’d, a little more particularly. I have spoken so much of carry- ing a strict Hand over Children, that perhaps I shall be suspected of not considering enough, what is due to their 40 tender Age and Constitutions. But that Opinion will vanish, 3—45] How to avoid Punishments. 29 n you have heard me a little farther: For I am very apt hink, that great Severity of Punishment does but very little Good, nay, great Harm in Education; and I believe it will be found that, ceteris paribus, those Children who ~ have been most ckastis’'d, seldom make the best Men. All 5 ~ that I have hitherto contended for, is, that whatsoever Rigor is necessary, it is more to be us'd, the younger Children “are; and having by a due Application wrought its Effect, it is to be relax’d, and chang’d into a milder Sort of Govern- ~ ment. 10 § 44. A Compliance and Suppleness of their Wills, being by a steady Hand introduc’d by Parents, before Children have Memories to retain the Beginnings of it, will seem natural to them, and work after- wards in them as if it were so, preventing all Occasions of 15 struggling or repining. The only Care is, that it be begun early, and inflexibly kept to ’till Awe and Respect be grown familiar, and there appears not the least Reluctancy in the Submission, and ready Obedience of their Minds. When this Reverence is once thus established, (which it must be 20 early, or else it will cost Pains and Blows to recover it, and the more the longer it is deferr’d) ’tis by it, still mix’d with as much Indulgence as they make not an ill use of, and not by Beating, Chiding, or other servile Punishmenis, they are for the future to be govern’d as they grow up to more 25 Understanding. : § 45. That this is so, will be easily allow’d, when it is but consider'd, what is to be aim’d at in an ingenuous Education; and upon what it turns. 1. He that has not a Mastery over his Inclinations, he 30 that knows not how to resist the Importunity of present Pleasure or Pain, for the sake of what Reason tells him is fit to be done, wants the true Principle of Virtue and In- dustry, and is in danger never to be good for any Thing. This Temper therefore, so contrary to unguided Nature, is 35 to be got betimes; and this Habit, as the true Foundation of future Ability and Happiness, is to be wrought into the Mind as early as may be, even from the first Dawnings of Knowledge or Apprehension in Children, and so to be confirm’d in them, by all the Care and Ways imaginable, by 40 those who have the Oversight of their Education. Awe. Self-denial. 30 Against corporal punishments. [§§ 46—48 § 46. 2. On the other Side, if the Mind be curb’d, and /Awumbled too much in Children; if their Spirits be abas’d and éroken much, by too strict an Hand over them, they lose all their Vigour and Industry, 5 and are in a worse State than the former. For extravagant young Fellows, that have Liveliness and Spirit, come some- times to be set right, and so make able and great Men; but dejected Minds, timorous and tame, and low Spirits, are hardly ever to be. rais’d, and very seldom attain to any 10 Thing. To avoid the Danger that is on either Hand, is the great Art; and he that has | found a Way how to keep up a Child’s Spirit easy, active, and free, and yet at the same time to restrain him from many Things he has a Mind = and to draw him to Things that are uneasy to him; he, I 15 say, that knows how to reconcile these seeming Contradic- tions, has, in my Opinion, got the true Secret of Education. $ 47- ¢ usual lazy and short Way by Chastisement nd the Rod, which is the only Instrument of Government that Tutors generally know, or ever think of, is Beating. : 20 “the most unfit of any to be us’d in Education, because it tends to both those Mischiefs; which, as we have shewn, are the Scy/Za and Clarybdis, which on the one hand or the other ruin all that miscarry. § 48. 1. This Kind of Punishment contributes not at 25 all to the Mastery of our natural Propensity to indulge cor- poral and present Pleasure, and to avoid Pain at any rate, but rather encourages it, and thereby strengthens that in us, which is the Root from whence spring all vicious Actions, and the Irregularities of Life. - For what other Motive, but 30 of sensual Pleasure and Pain, does a Child act by, who drudges at his Book against his Inclination, or abstains from eating unwholesome Fruit, that he takes Pleasure in, only out of Fear of Whipping? He in this only prefers the greater corporal Pleasure, or avoids the greater corporal 35 Pain. And what is it, to govern his Actions, and direct his Conduct by such Motives as these? What is it, I say, but to cherish that Principle in him, which it is our Business to root out and destroy? And therefore I cannot think any Correction useful to a Child, where the Shame of suffering 40 for having done amiss, does not work more upon him than the Pain. Dejected. §§ 40—s52] Harm from Severity. 31 v3 49. 2. This Sort of Correction naturally breeds an Aversion to that which ’tis the Tutor’s Business to create a Liking to. How obvious is it to observe, that Children come to hate Things which were at first acceptable to them, when they find themselves whipp’d, and chid, and teas’d 5 about them? And it is not to be wonder’d at in them, when grown Men would not be able to be reconcil’d to any Thing by such Ways. Who is there that would not be disgusted with any innocent Recreation, in itself indifferent to him, if he should with Blows or ill Language be /aled 10 to it, when he had no Mind? Or be constantly so treated, for some Circumstances in his Application to it? This is natural to be so. Offensive Circumstances ordinarily infect innocent Things which they are join’d with; and the very Sight of a Cup wherein any one uses to take nauseous I5 Physick, turns his Stomach, so that nothing will relish well out of it, tho’ the Cup be never so clean and well-shap’d, and of the richest Materials. § 50. 3. Such a Sort of slavish Discipline makes a slavish Tt per. The Child submits, and dissembles Obe- 20 dience, whilst the Fear of the Rod hangs over him; but when that is remov’d, and by being out of Sight, he can promise himself Impunity, he gives the greater Scope to his natural Inclination ; which by this Way is not at all alter’d, but, on the contrary, heighten’d and increas’d in him; and 25 after such restraint, breaks out usually with the more Vio- lence; or, § 51. 4. If Severity carry’d to the highest Pitch does prevail, and works a Cure upon the present unruly Dis- temper, it often brings in the room of it a worse and 30 more dangerous Disease, by breaking the Mind; and then, in the Place of a disorderly young Fellow, you have a low spirited moap'd Creature, who, however with his unnatu- ral Sobriety he may please silly People, who commend tame unactive Children, because they make no Noise, nor give 35 them any Trouble; yet at last, will probably prove as uncomfortable a Thing to his Friends, as he will be all his Life an useless Thing to himself and others. § 52. Beating them, and all other Sorts of slavish and corporal Punishments, are not the Discipline fit 5 - Rewards, 40 to be used in the Education of those we would 32 Harm from injudicious rewards. [§§ 52, 53 have wise, good, and ingenuous Men; and therefore very rarely to be apply’d, and that only in great Occasions, and Cases of Extremity. On the other Side, to flatter Children by Rewards of Things that are pleasant to them, is as_care- 5 fully to be avoided. He that will give to his Son Apples or Sugar-Plumbs, or what else of this kind he is most delighted with, to make him learn his Book, does but autho- rize his Love of Pleasure, and cocker up that dangerous Propensity, which he ought by all Means to subdue and 10 stifle in him. You can never hope to teach him to master it, whilst you compound for the Check you gave his Incli- nation in one Place; by the Satisfaction you propose to it in another. To make a good, a wise, and a virtuous Man, ‘tis fit he should learn to cross his Appetite, and deny his 15 Inclination to Riches, Finery, or pleasing his Palate, &c. whenever his Reason advises the contrary, and his Duty requires it. But when you draw him to do any Thing that is fit by the Offer of Money, or reward the Pains of Learn- ing his Book by the Pleasure of a luscious Morsel; when 20 you promise him a Zace-Cravat or a fine new Suit, upon Performance of some of his little Tasks; what do you by proposing these as Rewards, but allow them to be the good Things he should aim at, and thereby encourage his Long- ing for ’em, and accustom him to place his Happiness in 25 them? Thus People, to prevail with Children to be indus- trious about their Grammar, Dancing, or some other such Matter, of no great Moment to the Happiness or Usefulness of their Lives, by misapply’d Rewards and Punishments, sacrifice their Virtue, invert the Order of their Education, 30 and teach them Luxury, Pride, or Covetousness, &c. For in this Way, flattering those wrong Inclinations which they should restrain and suppress, they lay the Foundations of those future Vices, which cannot be avoided but by curbing our Desires and accustoming them early to submit to 35 Reason. § 53. I say not this, that I would have Children kept from the Conveniences or Pleasures of Life, that are not injurious to their Health or Virtue. On the contrary, I would have their Lives made as pleasant and as agreeable 40 to them as may be, in a plentiful Enjoyment of whatsoever might innocently delight them; provided it be with this §§ 53—355] Rewards and Punishments. 33 Caution, that they have those Enjoyments, only as the Con- sequences of the State of Esteem and Acceptation they are in with their Parents and Governors; but they should neve be offer'd or bestow’d on them, as the Rewards of this or that particular Performance, that they shew an Aversion to, | 5 or to which they would not have apply’d themselves without that Temptation. § 54. But if you take away the Rod on one Hand, and these little Encouragements which they are taken with, on the other, how then (will you say) shall Children be govern’d? 10 Remove Hope and Fear, and there is an End of all Dis- cipline. I grant that Good and Evil, Reward and Punish- ment, are the only Motives to a rational Creature: These are the Spur and Reins whereby all Mankind are set on Work, and guided, and therefore they are to be made use of 15 to Children too. For I advise their Parents and Governors always to carry this in their Minds, that Children are to be treated as rational Creatures. $ 55. 4 Rewards, 1 grant, and Punishments must be pro/ posed to Children, if we intend to work upon them. The 20 Mistake I imagine is, that those that are generally made use of, are Z// chosen. The Pains and Pleasures of the Body are, I think, of 1ll Consequence, when made the Rewards and Punishments whereby Men would prevail on their Children; for, as I said before, they serve but to increase and strength- 25 en those Inclinations, which ’tis our Business to subdue and master. What Principle of Virtue do you lay in a Child, if you will redeem his Desires of one Pleasure, by the Pro- posal of another? This is but to enlarge his Appetite, and instruct it to wander. If a Child cries for an unwholsome 30 and dangerous Fruit, you purchase his Quiet by giving him a less hurtful Sweet-meat. This perhaps may preserve his Health, but spoils his Mind, and sets that farther out of Order. For here you only change the Object, but flatter still his Appetite, and allow that must be satisfy’d, wherein, 35 as I have shew’d, lies the Root of the Mischief; and till you bring him to be able to bear a Denial of that Satisfaction, the Child may at present be quiet and orderly, but the Disease is not cured. By this Way of proceeding, you foment and cherish in him that which is the Spring from 40 whence all the Evil flows, which will be sure on the next Q. 3 34 Right management of praise and blame. [§§ 55—58 Occasion to break out again with more Violence, give him stronger Longings, and you more Trouble. § 56. The Rewards and Punishments then, whereby we should keep Children in Order, are quite of another Kind, and of that Force, that when we can get them once to work, the Business, I think, is done, and the Difficulty is over. Zsteern and Disgrace are, of all others, the most powerful Incentives to the Mind, when once it is brought to relish them. If you can once get into to Children a Love of Credit, and an Apprehension of Shame and Disgrace, you have put into ’em the true Principle, which will constantly work and incline them to the right. But it will be ask’d, How shall this be done? I confess it does not at first Appearance want some 15 Difficulty; but yet I think it worth our while to seek the Ways (and practise them when found) to attain this, which I look on as the great Secret of Education. § 57. First, Children (earlier perhaps than we think) are very sensible of Praise and Commendation. They find 20 a Pleasure in being esteem’d and valu’d, especially by their Parents and those whom they depend on. If therefore the Father caress and commend them when they do well, shew a cold and neglectful Countenance to them upon doing ill, and this accompany’d by a like Carriage of the Mother and all 25 others that are about them, it will, in a little Time, make them sensible of the Difference; and this, if constantly observ’d, I doubt not but will of itself work more than Threats or Blows, which lose their Force when once grown common, and are of no Use when Shame does not attend o them; and therefore are to be forborne, and never to be us’d, but in the Case hereafter-mention’d, when it is brought to Extremity. § 58. But Secondly, To make the Sense of Zsteem or Disgrace sink the deeper, and be of the more Weight, ot/er 35 agreeable or disagreeable Things should constantly accompany these different States; not as particular Rewards and Punish- ments of this or that particular Action, but as necessarily belonging to, and constantly attending one, who by his Carriage has brought himself into a State of Disgrace or 40 Commendation. By which Way of treating them, Children may as much as possible be brought to conceive, that those Reputation. §§ 58,59] . Difficulty from Servants. 35 that are commended, and in Esteem for doing well, will necessarily be belov’d and cherish’d by every Body, and have all other good Things as a Consequence of it; and on the other Side, when any one by Miscarriage falls into Dises- teem, and cares not to preserve his Credit, he will unavoid- 5 ably fall under Neglect and Contempt; and in that State, the Want of whatever might satisfy or delight him will follow. In this Way the Objects of their Desires are made assisting to Virtue, when a settled Experience from the Beginning teaches Children that the Things they delight in, belong 10 to, and are to be enjoy’d by those only who are in a State of Reputation. If by these Means you can come once to shame them out of their Faults, (for besides that, I would willingly have no Punishment) and make them in Love with the Pleasure of being well thought on, you may turn them 15 as you please, and they will be in Love with all the Ways of Virtue. Aare § 59. The great Difficulty here is, I imagine, from the Folly and Perverseness of Servants, who are hardly to be hinder’d from crossing herein the Design of the Father and 20 Mother. Children discountenanc’d by their Parents for any Fault, find usually a Refuge and Relief in the Caresses of those foolish Flatterers, who thereby undo whatever the Parents endeavour to establish. When the Father or Mother looks sowre on the Child, every Body else should put on 25 the same Coldness to him, and no body give him Counte- nance, ’till Forgiveness ask’d, and a Reformation of his Fault has set him right again, and restor’d him to his for- mer Credit. If this were constantly observ’d, I guess there would be little Need of Blows or Chiding: Their own Ease 30 and Satisfaction would quickly teach Children to court Commendation, and avoid doing that which they found every Body condemn’d and they were sure to suffer for, without being chid or beaten. This would teach them Modesty and Shame; and they would quickly come to have 35 2 natural Abhorrence for that which they found made them slighted and neglected by every Body. But how this Incon- venience from Servants is to be remedy’d, I must leave to Parents’ Care and Consideration. Only I think it of great Importance ; and that they are very happy who can get 40 discreet People about their Children. 3—2 36 The sense of Shame. [§§ 60, 61 § 60. Frequent Beating or Chiding is therefore carefully 0 be avoided: Because this Sort of Correction never produces any Good, farther than it serves to raise Shame and Abhorrence of the Miscarriage that 5 brought it on them. And if the greatest Part of the Trouble be not the Sense that they have done amiss, and the Ap- prehension that they have drawn on themselves the just Displeasure of their best Friends, the Pain of Whipping will work but an imperfect Cure. It only patches up for 10 the present, and skins it over, but reaches not to the Bottom of the Sore; ingenuous Same, and the Apprehensions of Displeasure, are the only true Restraint. These alone ought to hold the Reins, and keep the Child in Order. But corporal Punishments must necessarily lose that Effect, and 15 wear out the Sense of Siame, where they frequently re- “turn. Shame in Children has the same Place that Modesty has in Women, which cannot be kept and often transgress’d against. And as to the Apprehension of Displeasure in the Parents, that will come to be very insignificant, if the Marks 20 of that Displeasure quickly cease, and a few Blows fully expiate. Parents should well consider what Faults in their Children are weighty enough to deserve the Declaration of of their Anger: But when their Displeasure is once declar’d to a Degree that carries any Punishment with it, they ought 25 not presently to lay by the Severity of their Brows, but to, restore their Children to their former Grace with some Difficulty, and delay a full Reconciliation, ’till their Confor- mity and more than ordinary Merit, make good their Amendment. If this be not so orderd, Punishment will, 30 by Familiarity, become a mere Thing of Course, and lose all: its Influence; offending, being chastised, and then forgiven, will be thought as natural and necessary, as Noon, Night, and Morning following one another. § 61. Concerning Reputation, 1 shall only remark this 35. Pereration: ODF Thing more of it, that though it be not the " true Principle and Measure of Virtue, (for that is the Knowledge of a Man’s Duty, and the Satisfaction it is to obey his Maker, in following the Dictates of that Light God has given him, with the Hopes of Acceptation and 40 Reward) yet it is that which comes nearest to it: And being the Testimony and Applause that other People’s Reason, as Shame. §§ 61—63] Praise in public, Blame in private. 37 it were by a common Consent, gives to virtuous and well- orderd Actions, it is the proper Guide and Encouragement of Children, ’till they grow able to judge for themselves, and to find what is right by their own Reason. § 62. This Consideration may direct Parents how to 5 manage themselves in reproving and commending their Children. The Rebukes and Chiding, which their Faults will sometimes make hardly to be avoided, should not only be in sober, grave, and unpassionate Words, but also alone and in private: But the Commendations Children deserve, they 10 should receive before others. This doubles the Reward, by spreading their Praise; but the Backwardness Parents shew in divulging their Faults, will make them set a greater Value on their Credit themselves, and teach them to be the more careful to preserve the good Opinion of others, whilst they 15 think they have it: But when being expos’d to Shame, by publishing their Miscarriages, they give it up for lost, that Check upon them is taken off, and they will be the less careful to preserve others’ good Thoughts of them, the more they suspect that their Reputation with them is already 20 blemish’d. § 63. But if a right Course be taken with Children, there will not be so much need of the Application of the common Rewards and Punishments as we imagine, and as the general Practice has establish’d. For all their innocent 25 Folly, Playing, and childish Actions, are to be left perfectly free and unrestrain'd, as far as they can consist with the Respect due to those that are present; and that with the greatest Allowance. If these Faults of their Age, rather than of the Children themselves, were, as they 30 should be, left only to Time and Imitation and riper Years to cure, Children would escape a great deal of misapply’d and useless Correction, which either fails to overpower the natural Disposition of their Childhood, and so by an ineffec- tual Familiarity, makes Correction in other necessary Cases 35 of less Use; or else if it be of Force to restrain the natural Gaiety of that Age, it serves only to spoil the Temper both of Body and Mind. If the Noise and Bustle of their Play prove at any Time inconvenient, or unsuitable to the Place or Company they are in, (which can only be where their 40 Parents are) a Look or a Word from the Father or Mother, Childishness. 38 Practice rather than Precept. [§§ 63—65 if they have establish’d the Authority they should, will be enough either to remove or quiet them for that Time. But this gamesome Humour, which is wisely adapted by Nature to their Age and Temper, should rather be encourag’d to 5 keep up their Spirits, and improve their Strength and Health, than curb’d and restrain’d; and the chief Art is to make all that they have to do, Sport and Play too. : § 64. And here give me leave to take Notice of one ups. Thing I think a Fault in the ordinary Method To of Education; and that is, the charging of Children’s Memories, upon all Occasions, with Rules and Precepts, which they often do not understand, and constant- ly as soon forget as given. If it be some Action you would have done, or done otherwise, whenever they forget, or do I5 it awkwardly, make them do it over and over again, 'till they are perfect; whereby you will get these two Advantages. First, To see whether it be an Action they can do, or is fit to be expected of them: For sometimes Children are bid to do Things which upon Trial they are found not able to do, 20 and had need be taught and exercis’d in before they are requird to do them. But it is much easier for a Tutor to command than to teach. Secondly, Another Thing got by it will be this, that by repeating the same Action till it be grown habitual in them, the Performance will not depend on 25 Memory or Reflection, the Concomitant of Prudence and Age, and not of Childhood, but will be natural in them. Thus bowing to a Gentleman, when he salutes him, and looking in his Face, when he speaks to him, is by constant Use as natural to a well-bred Man, as breathing; it requires 30no Thought, no Reflection. Having this Way cured in your Child any Fault, it is cured for ever: And thus one by one you may weed them out all, and plant what Habits you lease. b § 65. I have seen Parents so heap Rules on their Child- 35 ren, that it was impossible for the poor little Ones to re- member a tenth Part of them, much less to observe them. However, they were either by Words or Blows corrected 10r the Breach of those multiply’d and often very impertinent Precepts. Whence it naturally follow’d that the Children 40 minded not what was said to them, when it was evident to them that no Attention they were capable of was sufficient §§ 65, 66] Few Rules. 39 to preserve them from Transgression, and the Rebukes which follow’d it. Let therefore your Rules to your Son be as few as possi- ble, and rather fewer than more than seem absolutely neces- sary. For if you burden him with many Rules, one of these 5 two Things must necessarily follow; that either he must be very often punish’d, which will be of ill Consequence, by making Punishment too frequent and familiar; or else you must let the Transgressions of some of your Rules go un- punish’d, whereby they will of course grow contemptible, and your Authority become cheap to him. Make but few Laws, but see they be well observ’d when once made. Few Years require but few Laws, and as his Age increases, when one Rule is by Practice well establish’d, you may add another. § 66. But pray remember, Children are zof to be taught 15 by Rules which will be always slipping out of their Memo- ries. What you think necessary for them to do, settle in them by an indispensable Practice, as often as the Occasion returns; and if it be possible, make Occasions. This will beget Habits in them, which being HG Pn once establish’d, operate of themselves easily and naturally, without the Assistance of the Memory. But here let me give two Cautions. 1. The one is, that you keep them to the Practice of what you would have grow into a Habit in them, by kind Words, and gentle Admonitions, rather as 25 minding them of what they forget, than by harsh Rebukes and Chiding, as if they were wilfully guilty. 2. Another Thing you are to take Care of, is, not to endeavour to settle too many Habits at once, lest by Variety you confound them, and so perfect none. When constant Custom has 30 made any one Thing easy and natural to ‘em, and they prac- tise it without Reflection, you may then go on to another. This Method of teaching Children by a repeated Practice, and the same Action done over and over again, under the Eye and Direction of the Tutor, ’till they have got the Habit of doing it well, and not by relying on Rules trusted to their Memories, has so many Advantages, which Way soever we consider it, that I cannot but wonder (if ill Customs could be wonder’d at in any Thing) how it could possibly be so much neglected. I shall name 40 one more that comes now in my Way. By this Method we ol o Practice. a5 Nature. Affectation. [§ 66 shall see whether what is requir'd of him be adapted to his Capacity, and any Way suited to the Child’s natural Genius and Constitution; for that too must be consider’d in a right Education. We must not hope wholly to change their 5 original Tempers, nor make the Gay pensive and grave, nor the Melancholy sportive, without spoiling them. God has stamp’d certain Characters upon Men’s Minds, which like their Shapes, may perhaps be a little mended, but can hardly be totally alter’d and transform’d into the contrary. 10 He therefore that is about Children should well study their Natures and Aptitudes, and see by often Trials what Turn they easily take, and what becomes them; observe what their native Stock is, how it may be improv’d, and what it is fit for: He should consider what they want, whether 15 they be capable of having it wrought into them by Industry, and incorporated there by Practice; and whether it be worth while to endeavour it. For in many Cases, all that we can do, or should aim at, is, to make the best of what Nature has given, to prevent the Vices and Faults to which such 20 a Constitution is most inclin’d, and give it all the Advantages it is capable of. Every one’s natural Genius should be carry’d as far as it could; but to attempt the putting another upon him, will be but Labour in vain; and what is so plaister’d on, will at best sit but untowardly, and have always 25 hanging to it the Ungracefulness of Constraint and Affecta- tion. Affectation is not, I confess, an early Fault of Childhood, or the Product of untaught Nature. It is of that Sort of Weeds which grow not in the 30 wild uncultivated Waste, but in Garden-Plots, under the negligent Hand or unskilful Care of a Gardener. Manage- ment and Instruction, and some Sense of the Necessity of Breeding, are requisite to make any one capable of Afec- tation, which endeavours to correct natural Defects, and has 35 always the laudable Aim of Pleasing, though it always misses it; and the more it labours to put on Gracefulness, the farther it is from it. For this Reason, it is the more care- fully to be watch’d, because it is the proper Fault of Edu- cation ; a perverted Education indeed, but such as young 40 People often fall into, either by their own Mistake, or the ill Conduct of those about them. Afectation. § 66] What is Affectation? 41 He that will examine wherein that Gracefulness lies, which always pleases, will find it arises from that natural Coherence which appears between the Thing done and such a Temper of Mind as cannot but be approv’d of as suitable to the Occasion. We cannot but be pleas’'d with & an humane, friendly, civil Temper, wherever we meet with it. A Mind free, and Master of itself and all its Actions, not low and narrow, not haughty and insolent, not blemish’d with any great Defect, is what every one is taken with. The Actions which naturally flow from such a well-form’d Mind, 10 please us also, as the genuine Marks of it; and being as it were natural Emanations from the Spirit and Disposition within, cannot but be easy and unconstrain’d. This seems to me to be that Beauty which shines through some Men’s Actions, sets off all that they do, and takes all they come near; when by a constant Practice, they have fashion’d their Carriage, and made all those little Expressions of Civility and Respect, which Nature or Custom has establish’d in Conversation, so easy to themselves, that they seem not artificial or studied, but naturally to follow from a Sweetness 20 of Mind and a well-turn’d Disposition. On the other Side, Affectation is an awkward and forc’d Imitation of what should be genuine and easy, wanting the Beauty that accompanies what is natural; because there is always a Disagreement between the outward Action, and 25 the Mind within, one of these two Ways: 1. Either when a Man would outwardly put on a Disposition of Mind, which then he really has not, but endeavours by a forc’d Carriage to make shew of ; yet so, that the Constraint he is under discovers itself: And thus Men affect sometimes to 30 appear sad, merry, or kind, when in truth they are not so. 2. The other is, when they do not endeavour to make shew of Dispositions of Mind, which they have not, but to express those they have by a Carriage not suited to them: And such in Conversation are all constrain’d Motions, 35 Actions, Words, or Looks, which, though design’d to shew either their Respect or Civility to the Company, or their Satisfaction and Easiness in it, are not yet natural nor genu- ine Marks of the one or the other, but rather of some Defect or Mistake within. Imitation of others, without 40 discerning what is graceful in them, or what is peculiar to ~ 5 42 Manners. Dancing. [$8 66, 67 their Characters, often makes a great Part of this. But Affectation of all Kinds, whencesoever it proceeds, is always offensive; because we naturally hate whatever is counterfeit, and condemn those who have nothing better to recommend 5 themselves by. : Plain and rough Nature, left to itself, is much better than an artificial Ungracefulness, and such study’d Ways of being illfashion’d. The Want of an Accomplishment, or some Defect in our Behaviour, coming short of the utmost 10 Gracefulness, often escapes Observation and Censure. But Affectation in any Part of our Carriage is lighting up a Candle to our Defects, and never fails to make us be taken notice of, either as wanting Sense, or wanting Sincerity. This Governors ought the more diligently to look after, 15 because, as I above observ’d, ’tis an acquird Ugliness, owing to mistaken Education, few being guilty of it but those who pretend to Breeding, and would not be thought ignorant of what is fashionable and becoming in Conversa- tion ; and, if I mistake not, it has often its Rise from the 20 lazy Admonitions of those who give Rules, and propose Examples, without joining Practice with their Instructions and making their Pupils repeat the Action in their Sight, that they may correct what is indecent or constrain’d in it, till it be perfected into an habitual and becoming Easiness. 25] § 67. Manners, as they call it, about which Children are so often perplex’d, and have so many goodly Exhortations made them by their wise Maids and Governesses, I think, are rather to be learnt by Ex- ample than Rules; and then Children, if kept out of ill 30 Company, will take a Pride to behave themselves prettily, after the Fashion of others, perceiving themselves esteem’d and commended for it. But if by a little Negligence in this Part, the Boy should not pull off his Hat, nor make Legs very gracefully, a Dancing-master will cure that Defect, 35 and wipe off all that Plainness of Nature, which the a-la- mode People call Clownishness. And since nothing appears to me to give Children so much becoming Confidence and Behaviour, and so to raise them to the Conversation of Dic those above their Age, as Dancing, I think they o “#¢ should be taught to dance as soon as they are capable of learning it. For tho’ this consist only in out- Manners. § 67] Children and Manners. 43 ward Gracefulness of Motion, yet, I know not how, it gives Children manly Thoughts and Carriage, more than any thing. But otherwise, I would not have little Children much tormented about Punctilio’s or Niceties of Breeding. Never trouble your self about those Faults in them, 5 which you know Age will cure: And therefore want of well- fashion’d Civility in the Carriage, whilst Civility is not wanting in the Mind, (for there you must take care to plant it early) should be the Parents’ least Care, whilst they are young. If his tender Mind be fill’d with a Veneration for 10 his Parents and Teachers, which consists in Love and Esteem, and a Fear to offend them ; and with Respect and good Will to all People; that Respect will of itself teach those Ways of expressing it, which he observes most accept- able. Be sure to keep up in him the Principles of good 15 Nature and Kindness; make them as habitual as you can, by Credit and Commendation, and the good Things accom- panying that State: And when they have taken root in his Mind, and are settled there by a continued Practice, fear not, the Ornaments of Conversation, and the Outside of 20 fashionable Manners, will come in their due Time ; if when they are remov’d out of their Maid’s Care, they are put into the Hands of a well-bred Man to be their Governor. Whilst they are very young, any Carelessness is to be borne with in Children, that carries not with it the Marks of 25 Pride or ill Nature ; but those, whenever they appear in any Action, are to be corrected immediately by the Ways above- mention’d. What I have said concerning Manners, I would not have so understood, as if I meant that those who have the Judgment to do it, should not gently fashion the 30 Motions and Carriage of Children, when they are very young. It would be of great Advantage, if they had People about them from their being first able to go, that had the Skill, and would take the right Way to do it. That which I complain of, is the wrong Course that is usually taken in this 35 Matter. Children, who were never taught any such Thing as Behaviour, are often (especially when Strangers are present) chid for having some way or other fail'd in good Manners, and have thereupon Reproofs and Precepts heap’d upon them, concerning putting off their Hats, or making of 40 Legs, &¢. Though in this, those concern’d pretend to 44 Manners acquired by Imitation. [§§ 67, 68 correct the Child, yet in Truth, for the most Part, it is but to cover their own Shame; and they lay the Blame on the poor little Ones, sometimes passionately enough, to divert it from themselves, for fear the By-standers should 5 impute to their Want of Care and Skill the Child’s ill Behaviour. For, as for the Children themselves, they are never one jot better'd by such occasional Lectures. They at other Times should be shewn what to do, and by reiterated 10 Actions be fashion’d beforehand into the Practice of what is fit and becoming, and not told and talk’d to do upon the Spot, of what they have never been accustom’d nor know how to do as they should. To hare and rate them thus at every turn, is not to teach them, but to vex and torment 15 them to no purpose. They should be let alone, rather than chid for a Fault which is none of theirs, nor is in their Power to mend for speaking to. And it were much better their natural childish Negligence or Plainness should be left to the Care of riper Years, than that they should frequently 20 have Rebukes misplac’d upon them, which neither do nor can give them graceful Motions. If their Minds are well- dispos’d, and principled with inward Civility, a great Part of the Roughness which sticks to the Outside for Want of better Teaching, Time and Observation will rub off, as they 25 grow up, if they are bred in good Company ; but if in ill, all the Rules in the World, all the Correction imaginable, will not be able to polish them. For you must take this for a certain Truth, that let them have what Instructions you will, and ever so learned Lectures of Breeding daily 30 inculcated into them, that which will most influence their Carriage will be the Company they converse with, and the Fashion of those about them. Children (nay, and Men too) do most by Example. We are all a Sort of Camelions, that still take a Tincture from Things near us; nor is it to 35 be wonderd at in Children, who better understand what they see than what they hear. § 68. I mention’d above one great Mischief that came Conon by Servants to Children, when by their Flat- " teries they take off the Edge and Force of the 40 Parents’ Rebukes, and so lessen their Authority : And here is another great Inconvenience which Children receive from §§ 68—70] Dangers from Servants. 45 the ill Examples which they meet with amongst the meaner Servants. They are wholly, if possible, to be kept from such Conversation; for the Contagion of these ill Precedents, both in Civility and Virtue, horribly infects Children, as 5 often as they come within reach of it. They frequently learn from unbred or debauch’d Servants such Language, untowardly Tricks and Vices, as otherwise they possibly would be ignorant of all their Lives. § 69. ’Tis a hard Matter wholly to prevent this Mischief. 10 You will have very good luck, if you never have a clownish or vicious Servant, and if from them your Children never get any Infection: But yet as much must be done towards it as can be, and the Children kept as much as may be *z the Company of their Parents, and those to whose Care they 15 are committed. To this Purpose, their being in their Pre- sence should be made easy to them; they should be allow’d the Liberties and Freedoms suitable to their Ages, and not be held under unnecessary Restraints, when in their Parents’ or Governor’s Sight. If it be a Prison to them, ’tis 20 no Wonder they should not like it. They must not be hinder’d from being Children, or from playing, or doing as Children, but from doing ill; all other Liberty is to be allow’d them. Next, to make them in love with the Com- pany of their Parents, they should receive all their good 25 Things there, and from their Hands. The Servants should be hinder’d from making court to them by giving them strong Drink, Wine, Fruit, Play-Things, and other such Matters, which may make them in love with their Conver- sation. 30 § 70. Having nam’d Company, I am almost ready to throw away my Pen, and trouble you no farther on this Subject: For since that does more than all Precepts, Rules and Instructions, methinks ’tis almost wholly in vain to make a long Discourse of other Things, 35 and to talk of that almost to no Purpose. For you will be ready to say, What shall I do with my Son? If I keep him Company. * How much the Romans thought the Education of their Children a Business that properly belongd to the Parents themselves, see in Sue- tonius, August. § 64. Plutarch i» vita Catonis Censoris, Diodorus Siculus Z 2, cap. 3. 46 Home versus School. [8 70 always at home, he will be in danger to be my young Mas- ter; and if I send him abroad, how is it possible to keep him from the Contagion of Rudeness and Vice, which is every where so in Fashion? In my House he will perhaps 5 be more innocent, but more ignorant too of the World; wanting there Change of Company, and being us’d con- stantly to the same Faces, he will, when he comes abroad, be a sheepish or conceited Creature. I confess, both Sides have their inconveniences. Being 10 abroad, ’tis true, will make him bolder, and better able to bustle and shift among Boys of his own Age; and the Emulation of School-Fellows often puts Life and Industry into young Lads. But till you can find a School, wherein it is possible for the Master to look after the Manners of his 15 Scholars, and can shew as great Effects of his Care of form- ing their Minds to Virtue, and their Carriage to good Breeding, as of forming their Tongues to the learned Lan- guages, you must confess, that you have a strange Value for Words, when preferring the Languages of the antient 20 Greeks and Romans to that which made ’em such brave Men, you think it worth while to hazard your Son’s Inno- cence and Virtue for a little Greek and Eatin. For, as for that Boldness and Spirit which Lads get amongst their Play- Fellows at School, it has ordinarily such a Mixture of Rude- 25 ness and ill-turn’d Confidence, that those misbecoming and disingenuous Ways of shifting in the World must be unlearnt, and all the Tincture wash’d out again, to make Way for better Principles, and such Manners as make a truly worthy Man. He that considers how diametrically opposite the 30 Skill of living well, and managing, as a Man should do, his Affairs in the World, is to that Mal-pertness, Tricking, or Violence learnt amongst School-Boys, will think the Faults of a privater Education infinitely to be preferrd to such Improvements, and will take Care to preserve his Child's 35 Innocence and Modesty at Home, as being nearer of Kin, and more in the Way of those Qualities which make an useful and able Man. Nor does any one find, or so much as suspect, that that Retirement and Bashfulness which their Daughters are brought up in, makes them less know- 40 ing, or less able Women. Conversation, when they come into the World, soon gives them a becoming Assurance; and § 70] Bashfulness better than Vice. 47 whatsoever, beyond that, there is of rough and boisterous, may in Men be very well spard too; for Courage and Steadiness, as I take it, lie not in Roughness and ill Breeding. : Virtue is harder to be got, than a Knowledge of the & World ; and if lost in a young Man, is seldom recover’d. Sheepishness and Ignorance of the World, the Faults im- puted to a private Education, are neither the necessary Consequences of being bred at Home, nor if they were, are they incurable Evils. Vice is the more stubborn, as well as 10 the more dangerous Evil of the two; and therefore in the first Place to be fenced against. If that sheepish Softness which often enervates those who are bred like Fondlings at Home, be carefully to be avoided, it is principally so for Virtue’s sake; for fear lest such a yielding Temper should 15 be too susceptible of vicious Impressions, and expose the Novice too easily to be corrupted. A young Man before he leaves the Shelter of his Father's House, and the Guard of a Tutor, should be fortify’d with Resolution, and made acquainted with Men, to secure his Virtues, lest he should 20 be led into some ruinous Course, or fatal Precipice, before he is sufficiently acquainted with the Dangers of Conversa- tion, and has Steadiness enough not to yield to every Temptation. Were it not for this, a young Man’s Bashful- ness and Ignorance in the World, would not so much need 25 an early Care. Conversation would cure it in a great Measure; or if that will not do it early enough, it is only a stronger Reason for a good Tutor at Home. For if Pains be to be taken to give him a manly Air and Assurance be- times, it is chiefly as a Fence to his Virtue when he goes 30 into the World under his own Conduct. It is preposterous therefore to sacrifice his Innocency to the attaining of Confidence and some little Skill of bustling for himself among others, by his Conversation with illbred and vicious Boys; when the chief Use of that Sturdiness, 35 and standing upon his own Legs, is only for the Preserva- tion of his Virtue. For if Confidence or Cunning come once to mix with Vice, and support his Miscarriages, he is only the surer lost; and you must undo again, and strip him of that he has got from his Companions, or give him up 40 to Ruin. Boys will unavoidably be taught Assurance by 48 The Schoolmaster powerless for conduct. [§ 70 Conversation with Men, when they are brought into it; and that is Time enough. Modesty and Submission, till then, better fits them for Instruction; and therefore there needs not any great Care to stock them with Confidence before- 5 hand. That which requires most Time, Pains, and Assi- duity, is, to work into them the Principles and Practice of Virtue and good Breeding. This is the Seasoning they should be prepar’d with, so as not easily to be got out again. This they had need to be well provided with; for Conver- ro sation, when they come into the World, will add to their Knowledge and Assurance, but be too apt to take from their Virtue; which therefore they ought to be plentifully stor’d with, and have that Tincture sunk deep into them. How they should be fitted for Conversation, and enter’d 15 into the World, when they are ripe for it, we shall consider in another Place. But how any one’s being put into a mix’d Herd of unruly Boys, and there learning to wrangle at Trap, or rook at Span-farthing, fits him for civil Conversa- tion or Business, I do not see. And what Qualities are 20 ordinarily to be got from such a Troop of Play-Fellows as Schools usually assemble together from Parents of all Kinds, that a Father should so much covet, is hard to divine. I am sure, he who is able to be at the Charge of a Tutor at Home, may there give his Son a more genteel Carriage, 25 more manly Thoughts, and a Sense of what is worthy and becoming, with a greater Proficiency in Learning into the Bargain, and ripen him up sooner into a Man, than any at School can do. Not that I blame the Schoolmaster in this, or think it to be laid to his Charge. The Difference is 30 great between two or three Pupils in the same House, and three or four Score Boys lodg’d up and down: For let the Master’s Industry and Skill be never so great, it is impossi- ble he should have fifty or an hundred Scholars under his Eye, any longer than they are in the School together: Nor 35 can it be expected, that he should instruct them successfully in any thing but their Books; the forming of their Minds and Manners requiring a constant Attention, and particular Application to every single Boy, which is impossible in a numerous Flock, and would be wholly in vain (could he 40 have Time to study and correct every one’s particular Defects and wrong Inclinations) when the Lad was to be § 70] Manners best learnt at home. 49 left to himself, or the prevailing Infection of his Fellows, the greatest Part of the four and twenty Hours. But Fathers, observing that Fortune is often most suc- cessfully courted by bold and bustling Men, are glad to see their Sons pert and forward betimes; take it for an happy 5 Omen that they will be thriving Men, and look on the Tricks they play their School-Fellows, or learn from them, as a Proficiency in the Art of Living, and making their Way through the World. But I must take the Liberty to say, that he that lays the Foundation of his Son’s Fortune in 10 Virtue and good Breeding, takes the only sure and warrant- able Way. And ’tis not the Waggeries or Cheats practis’d amongst School-Boys, ’tis not their Roughness one to an- other, nor the well-laid Plots of robbing an Orchard together, that make an able Man; but the Principles of Justice, 15 Generosity, and Sobriety, join’d with Observation and In- dustry, Qualities which I judge School-Boys do not learn much of one another. And if a young Gentleman bred at Home, be not taught more of them than he could learn at School, his Father has made a very ill Choice of a Tutor. 20 Take a Boy from the Top of a Grammar-School, and one of the same Age bred as he should be in his Father's Family, and bring them into good Company together, and then see which of the two will have the more manly Carriage, and address himself with the more becoming Assurance to 25 Strangers. Here I imagine the School-Boy’s Confidence will either fail or discredit him; and if it be such as fits him only for the Conversation of Boys, he were better to be without it. Vice, if we may believe the general Complaint, ripens 3° so fast now-a-days, and runs up to Seed so early in young People, that it is impossible to keep a Lad from the spread- ing Contagion, if you will venture him abroad in the Herd, and trast to Chance or his own Inclination for the Choice of his Company at School. By what Fate Vice has so 35 thriven amongst us these Years past, and by what Hands it has been nurs’d up into so uncontroul’d a Dominion, I shall leave to others to enquire. I wish that those who complain of the great decay of Christian Piety and Virtue every where, and of Learning and acquird Improvements in the Gentry 40 of this Generation, would consider how to retrieve them in Q- 4 50 Prevailing Dissoluteness and its cure. [§ 70 the next. This I am sure, that if the Foundation of it be not laid in the Education and Principling of the Youth, all other Endeavours will be in vain. And if the Innocence, Sobriety, and Industry of those who are coming up, be not 5 taken care of and preserv’d, ’twill be ridiculous to expect, that those who are to succeed next on the Stage, should abound in that Virtue, Ability, and Learning, which has hitherto made England considerable in the World. I was going to add Courage too, though it has been look’d on as 10 the natural Inheritance of Englishmen. What has been talk’d of some late Actions at Sea, of a Kind unknown to our Ancestors, gives me Occasion to say, that Debauchery sinks the Courage of Men; and when Dissoluteness has eaten out the Sense of true Honour, Bravery seldom stays 15 long after it. And I think it impossible to find an Instance of any Nation, however renown’d for their Valour, who ever kept their Credit in Arms, or made themselves redoubtable amongst their Neighbours, after Corruption had once broke through and dissolv’d the Restraint of Discipline, and Vice 20 was grown to such an Head, that it durst shew itself bare- fac’d without being out of Countenance. *Tis Virtue then, direct Virtue, which is the hard and valuable Part to be aim’d at in Education, and not a forward Pertness, or any little Arts of 25 Shifting. All other Considerations and Accomplishments should give way and be postpon’d to this. This is the solid and substantial Good which Tutors should not only read Lectures, and talk of, but the Labour and Art of Edu- cation should furnish the Mind with, and fasten there, and 30 never cease till the young Man had a true Relish of it, and plac’d his Strength, his Glory, and his Pleasure in it. The more this advances, the easier Way will be made for other Accomplishments in their Turns. For he that is brought to submit to Virtue, will 35 not be refractory, or resty, in any Thing that becomes him; and thereiore I cannot but prefer breeding of a young Gentleman at home in his Father's Sight, under a good Governour, as much the best and safest Way to this great and main End of Education, when it can be had, and is 4o order’d as it should be. Gentlemen's Houses are seldom without Variety of Company: They should use their Sons Virtue. Company. §§ 70, 71] Example. Pueris reverentia. 51. to all the strange Faces that come there, and engage them in Conversation with Men of Parts and Breeding, as soon as they are capable of it. And why those who live in the Country should not take them with them, when they make Visits of Civility to their Neighbours, I know not. This I 35 am sure, a Father that breeds his Son at home, has the Opportunity to have him more in his own Company, and there give him what Encouragement he thinks fit, and can keep him better from the Taint of Servants and the meaner Sort of People, than is possible to be done abroad. But 10 what shall be resolv’d in the Case, must in great Measure be left to the Parents, to be determin’d by their Circumstances and Conveniences; only I think it the worst sort of good Husbandry for a Father not to strain himself a little for his Son’s Breeding; which, let his Condition be what it will, is the best Portion he can leave him. But if, after all, it shall be thought by some, that the Breeding at Home has too little Company, and that at ordinary Schools, not such as it should be for a young Gentleman, I think there might be Ways found out to avoid the Inconveniences on the one 20 Side and the other. § 71. Having under Consideration how great the Influ- ence of Company is, and how prone we are all, especi- ally Children, to Imitation; I must here take the Liberty to mind Parents of this one Thing, vsz. That he that will 25 have his Son have a Respect for him and his Orders, must himself have a great Reverence for his Son. Maxima debetur Pueris reverentia. You must do nothing oh before him, which you would not have him imi- : tate. If any Thing escape you, which you would have pass 30 for a Fault in him, he will be sure to shelter himself under your Example, and shelter himself so as that it will not be easy to come at him, to correct it in him the right Way. If you punish him for what he sees you practise yourself, he will not think that Severity to proceed from Kindness in 35 ~ you, careful to amend a Fault in him; but will be apt to interpret it the Peevishness and arbitrary Imperiousness of a Father, who, without any Ground for it, would deny his Son the Liberty and Pleasures he takes himself. Or if you assume to yourself the Liberty you have taken, as a Privi- 40 lege belonging to riper Years, to which a Child must not 4—2 - 5 52 Lessons should not be Tasks. [§§ 71—73 aspire, you do but add new force to your Example, and recommend the Action the more powerfully to him. For you must always remember, that Children affect to be Men earlier than is thought; and they love Breeches, not for 5 their Cut or Ease, but because the having them is a Mark or Step towards Manhood. What I say of the Father’s Carriage before his Children, must extend itself to all those who have any Authority over them, or for whom he would have them have any Respect. 10 § 72. But to return to the Business of Rewards and Puniimens. LUnIShments. All the Actions of Childishness, " and unfashionable Carriage, and whatever Time and Age will of itself be sure to reform, being (as I have said) exempt from the Discipline of the Rod, there will not 15 be so much need of beating Children as is generally made use of. To which if we add learning to read, write, dance, foreign Language, &c as under the same Privilege, there will be but very rarely an Occasion for Blows or Force in an ingenuous Education. The right Way to teach them those 20 Things, is, to give them a Liking and Inclination to what you propose to them to be learn’d, and that will engage their Industry and Application. This I think no hard Matter to do, if Children be handled as they should be, and the Rewards and Punishments above-mention’d be carefully _25 apply’d, and with them these few Rules observ’d in the ~ Method of instructing them. § 73. 1. None of the Things they are to learn, should ever be made a Burthen to them, or impos’d on Task. them as a Zuask. Whatever is so propos’d, pre- 30 sently becomes irksome; the Mind takes an Aversion to it, though before it were a Thing of Delight or Indifferency. Let a Child but be order’d to whip his Top at a certain Time every Day, whether he has or has not a Mind to it; let this be but requir'd of him as a Duty, wherein he must spend so 35 many Hours Morning and Afternoon, and see whether he will not soon be weary of any Play at this Rate. Is it not so with grown Men? What they do chearfully of themselves, do they not presently grow sick oi, and can no more endure, as soon as they find it is expected of them as a Duty? 40 Children have as much a Mind to shew that they are free, that their own good Actions come from themselves, that §§ 73, 74] Seasons of Aptitude and Inclination. 353 they are absolute and independent, as any of the proudest of you grown Men, think of them as you please. § 74. 2. Asa Consequence of this, they should seldom be put about doing even those Things you have di got an Inclination in them to, but when they ag have a Mind and Disposition to it. He that loves Reading, Writing, Musick, &. finds yet in himself certain Seasons wherein those Things have no Relish to him; and if at that Time he forces himself to it, he only pothers and wearies himself to no purpose. So it is with Children. This Change 10 of Temper should be carefully observ’d in them, and the favourable Seasons of Aptitude and Inclination be heedfully laid hold of: And if they are not often enough forward of themselves, a good Disposition should be talk’d into them, before they be set upon any thing. This I think no hard 15 Matter for a discreet Tutor to do, who has study’d his Pupil’s Temper, and will be at a little Pains to fill his Head with suitable Ideas, such as may make him in Love with the present Business. By this Means a great deal of Time and Tiring would be sav’d: For a Child will learn three times 20 as much when he is zz Zune, as he will with double the Time and Pains when he goes awkwardly or is dragg’d un- willingly to it. If this were minded as it should, Children might be permitted to weary themselves with Play, and yet have Time enough to learn what is suited to the Capacity of 25 each Age. But no such Thing is considerd in the ordinary Way of Education, nor can it well be. That rough Disci- pline of the Rod is built upon other Principles, has no Attraction in it, regards not what Humour Children are in, nor looks after favourable Seasons of Inclination. And 30 indeed it would be ridiculous, when Compulsion and Blows have rais’d an Aversion in the Child to his Task, to expect he should freely of his own accord leave his Play, and with Pleasure court the Occasions of Learning; whereas, were Matters order'd right, learning anything they should be 35 taught might be made as much a Recreation to their Play, as their Play is to their Learning. The Pains are equal on both Sides. Nor is it that which troubles them; for they love to be busy, and the Change and Variety is that which naturally delights them. The only Odds is, in that which 40 54 Mind must gain self-mastery. [§§ 74, 75 we call Play they act at Liberty, and employ their Pains (whereof you may observe them never sparing) freely; but what they are to learn is forc’d upon them, they are call’d, compell’d, and driven te it. This is that, that at first En- 5 trance balks and cools them; they want their Liberty. Get them but to ask their Tutor to teach them, as they do often their Play-Fellows, instead of his calling upon them to learn, and they being satisfy’d that they act as freely in this as they do in other Things, they will go on with as much 10 Pleasure in it, and it will not differ from their other Sports and Play. By these Ways, carefully pursu’d, a Child may be brought to desire to be taught any thing you have a Mind he should learn. The hardest Part, I confess, is with the first or eldest; but when once he is set right, it is easy 15 by him to lead the rest whither one will. — 3% 75. Though it be past doubt, that the fittest Time for} Children to learn any Thing, is, when their Minds are in Tune, and well dispos’d to it; when neither Flagging of Spirit, nor Intentness of Thought upon something else, 20 makes them awkward and averse ; yet two Things are to be taken care of: 1. That these Seasons either not being warily observ’d, and laid hold on as often as they return, or else, not returning as often as they should, the Improve- ment of the Child be not thereby neglected, and so he be 25 let grow into an habitual Idleness, and confirm’d in thi Indisposition : 2. That though other Things are ill learn’d, when the Mind is either indispos’d, or otherwise taken up; yet it is of great Moment, and worth our Endeavours, to teach the Mind to get the Mastery over itself, and to be 30 able, upon Choice, to take itself off from the hot Pursuit of one Thing, and set itself upon another with Facility and Delight, or at any Time to shake off its Sluggishness, and vigorously employ itself about what Reason, or the Advice of another shall direct. This is to be done in Children, by 35 trying them sometimes, when they are by Laziness unbent, or by Avocation bent another Way, and endeavouring to make them buckle to the Thing propos’d. If by this Means the Mind can get an habitual Dominion over itself, lay by /deas or Business as Occasion requires, and betake go itself to new and less acceptable Employments without §§ 75, 76] How learning is made displeasing. 55 Reluctancy or Discomposure, it will be an Advantage of more Consequence than Latin or Logick or most of those Things Children are usually requird to learn. § 76. Children being more active and busy in that Age, than in any other Part of their Life, and being indifferent to any Thing they can do, so they may be but doing, Dancing and Scotc/-hoppers would be the same Thing to them, were the Encouragements and Dis- couragements equal. But to Things we would have them learn, the great and only Discouragement I can observe, is, 10 that they are call'd to it, ’tis made their Business, they are teazd and chid about it, and do it with Trembling an Apprehension ; or, when they come willingly to it, are kept too long at it, till they are quite tid : All which intrenches too much on that natural Freedom they extremely affect. And it is that Liberty alone which gives the true Relish and Delight to their ordinary Play-Games. Turn the Tables, and you will find they will soon change their Appli- cation ; especially if they see the Examples of others whom they esteem and think above themselves. And if 20 the Things which they observe others to do, be orderd so, that they insinuate themselves into them as the Privilege of an Age or Condition above theirs; then Ambition, and the Desire still to get forward and higher, and to be like those above them, will set them on work, and make them 25 go on with Vigour and Pleasure; Pleasure in what they have begun by their own Desire, in which Way the Enjoy- ment of their dearly beloved Freedom will be no small Encouragement to them. To all which, if there be added the Satisfaction of Credit and Reputation, I am apt to 30 think there will need no other Spur to excite their Applica- tion and Assiduity, as much as is necessary. I confess, there needs Patience and Skill, Gentleness and Attention, and a prudent Conduct to attain this at first. But why have you a Tutor, if there needed no Pains? But when 35 this is once establish’d, all the rest will follow, more easily than in any more severe and imperious Discipline. And I think it no hard Matter to gain this Point; I am sure it will not be, where Children have no ill Examples set before them. The great Danger therefore, I apprehend, is only 40 from Servants, and other ill-order’d Children, or such other Compulsion. 5 56 Against passionate Chiding. [§§ 76—78 vicious or foolish People, who spoil Children both by the ill Pattern they set before them in their own ill Manners, and by giving them together the two Things they should never have at once; I mean vicious Pleasures and Com- 5 mendation. § 77. As Children should very seldom be corrected by Blows, so I think frequent, and especially pas- sionate Chiding of almost as ill Consequence. It lessens the Authority of the Parents, and the Respect 10 of the Child; for I bid you still remember, they distinguish early betwixt Passion and Reason: And as they cannot but have a Reverence for what comies from the latter, so they /quickly grow into a Contempt of the former ; or if it causes a present Terror, yet it soon wears off, and natural Inclina- 15 tion will easily learn to slight such Scare-crows which make a Noise, but are not animated by Reason. Children being to be restrain’d by the Parents only in vicious (which, in their tender Years, are only a few) Things, a Look or Nod only ought to correct them when they do amiss; or, if 20 Words are sometimes to be us’d, they ought to be grave, kind, and sober, representing the Ill or Unbecomingness of the Faults, rather than a Zasty Rating of the Child for it; which makes him not sufficiently distinguish, whether your Dislike be not more directed to him than his Fault. Pas- 25 sionate Chiding usually carries rough and ill Language with it, which has this farther ill Effect, that it teaches and jus- tifies it in Children: And the Names that their Parents or Praeceptors give them, they will not be asham’d or backward to bestow on others, having so good Authority for the Use 30 of them. § 78. 1 forsee here it will be objected to me, What otis then, will you have Children never beaten nor " chid for any Fault? This will be to let loose the Reins to all Kind of Disorder. Not so much, as is 35 imagin’d, if a right Course has been taken in the first Seasoning of their Minds, and implanting that Awe of their Parents above-mentioned. For Beating, by constant Obser- vation, is found to do little good, where the Smart of it is all the Punishment is fear’d or felt in it; for the Influence 40 of that quickly wears out, with the Memory of it. But yet there is one, and but one Fault, for which, I think Children dhl i Chiding. § 78] : Obstinacy needs the Rod. 5% * should be beaten, and that is, Obstinacy or Rebellion. And in thistooT would have it ordérd so; if it can be, that the Shame of the Whipping, and not the Pain, should be the greatest Part of the Punishment. Shame of doing amiss, and deserving Chastisement, is the only true Restraint 5 belonging to Virtue. The Smart of the Rod, if Shame accompanies it not, soon ceases, and is forgotten, and will quickly by Use lose its Terror. I have known the Children of a Person of Quality kept in Awe by the Fear of having their Shoes pull’d off, as much as others by Apprehensions 10 of a Rod hanging over them. Some such Punishment I think better than Beating ; for ’tis Shame of the Fault, and the Disgrace that attends it, that they should stand in Fear of, rather than Pain, if you would have them have a Temper truly ingenuous. But Stwbbornness, and an obstinate Disobe- 15 dience, must be master’d with Force and Blows; for this there is no other Remedy. Whatever particular Action you bid him do, or forbear, you must be sure to see your self obey’d; no Quarter in this Case, no Resistance: For when once it comes to be a Trial of Skill, a Contest for 20 Mastery betwixt you, as it is if you command and he refuses, you must be sure to carry it, whatever Blows it costs, if a Nod or Words will not prevail ; unless, for ever after, you intend to live in Obedience to your Son. A prudent and kind Mother of my Acquaintance, was, on 25 such an Occasion, forc’d to whip her little Daughter, at her first coming home from Nurse, eight Times successively the same Morning, before she could master her Stubbornness, and obtain a Compliance in a very easy and indifferent Matter. If she had left off sooner, and stopp’d at the 30 seventh Whipping, she had spoil'd the Child for ever, and, by her unprevailing Blows, only confirm’d her Refractoriness, very hardly afterwards to be cur’d: But wisely persisting till she had bent her Mind, and suppled her Will, the only End of Correction and Chastisement, she establish’d her 35 Authority thoroughly in the very first Occasions, and had ever after a very ready Compliance and Obedience in all Things from her Daughter; for as this was the first Time, so I think it was the last too she ever struck her. The Pain of the Rod, #4 first Occasion that requires it, 40 contini’d and increas’d, without leaving off till it has 58 The Rod for Stubbornness only. [$78 throughly prevail’d, should first bend the Mind, and settle the Parent’s Authority; and then Gravity, mix’d with Kind- ness, should for ever after keep it. This, if well reflected on, would make People more wary 5 in the Use of the Rod and the Cudgel, and keep them from being so apt to think Beating the safe and universal Remedy to be apply’d at random on all Occasions. This is certain, however, if it does no Good, it does great Harm; if it reaches not the Mind, and makes not the Will supple, it 10 hardens the Offender; and whatever Pain he has sufferd for it, it does but endear him to his beloved Stxbbornness, which has got him this Time the Victory, and prepares him to contest, and hope for it for the future. Thus I doubt not but by ill-order’d Correction many have been taught to be 15 obstinate and refractory who otherwise would have been very pliant and tractable. For if you punish a Child so, as if it were only to revenge the past Fault, which has rais’'d your Choler, what Operation can this have upon his Mind, which is the Part to be amended? If there were no sturdy 20 Humour ov Wilfulness mix’d with his Fault, there was no- thing in it that requir'd the Severity of Blows. A kind or grave Admonition is enough to remedy the Slips of Frailty, Forgetfulness, or Inadvertency, and is as much as they will stand in need of. But if there were a Ferverseness in the 25 Will, if it were a design’d, resolv’d Disobedience, the Punish- ment is not to be measur’d by the Greatness or Smallness of the Matter wherein it appear’d, but by the Opposition it carries, and stands in, to that Respect and Submission is due to the Father's Orders; which must always be rigorously 30 exacted, and the Blows by Pauses laid on, till they reach the Mind, and you perceive the Signs of a true Sorrow, Shame, and Purpose of Obedience. This, I confess, requires something more than setting Children a Task, and whipping them without any more a- 35 do if it be not done, and done to our Fancy. This requires Care, Attention, Observation, and a nice Study of Children’s Tempers, and weighing their Faults well, before we come to this Sort of Punishment. But is not that better than always to have the Rod in Hand as the only Instrument of Go- vernment? And by frequent Use of it on all Occasions, misapply and render inefficacious this last and useful Re- §§ 78—80] Faults not of the Will. 59 medy, where there is need of it? For what else can be expected, when it is promiscuously us’d upon every little Slip? When a Mistake in Concordance, or a wrong Position in Verse, shall have the Severity of the Lash, in a well-tem- per'd and industrious Lad, as surely as a wilful Crime in an 5 obstinate and perverse Offender; how can such a Way of Correction be expected to do Good on the Mind, and set that right? Which is the only Thing to be look’d after; and when set Right, brings all the rest that you can desire along with it. 10 § 79. Where a wrong Bent of the Will wants not Amendment, there can be no need of Blows. All other Faults, where the Mind is rightly dispos’d, and refuses not * the Government and Authority of the Father or Tutor, are but Mistakes, and may often be overlook’d; or when they 15 are taken Notice of, need no other but the gentle Remedies of Advice, Direction, and Reproof, till the repeated and wilful Neglect of those, shews the Fault to be in the Mind, and that a manifest Perverseness of the Will lies at the Root of their Disobedience. But whenever Obstinacy, which is 20 an open Defiance, appears, #:at cannot be wink’d at or neglected, but must, in the first Instance, be subdu’d and master’d; only Care must be had, that we mistake not, and we must be sure it is Obstinacy and nothing else. § 80. But since the Occasions of Punishment, especi- 25 ally Beating, are as much to be avoided as may be, I think it should not be often brought to this Point. If the Awe I\ spoke of be once got, a Look will be sufficient in most Cases. Nor indeed should the same Carriage, Seriousnes or Application be expected from young Children as Tom 30 those of riper Growth. They must be permitted, as I said, the foolish and childish Actions suitable to their Years, without taking Notice of them. Inadvertency, Carelessness, and Gayety, is the Character of that Age. I think the Se- verity I spoke of is not to extend itself to such unseasonable 35 Restraints. Nor is that hastily to be interpreted Obstinacy or Wilfulness, which is the natural Product of their Age or Temper. In such Miscarriages they are to be assisted, and help’d towards an Amendment, as weak People under a natural Infirmity; which, though they are warn’d of, yet 40 every Relapse must not be counted a perfect Neglect, and 60 Appeal to Reason. [$5 So, 81 they presently treated as obstinate. Faults of Frailty, as they should never be neglected, or let pass without minding, so, unless the Will mix with them, they should never be exaggerated, or very sharply reprov’d; but with a gentle 5 Hand set right, as Time and Age permit. By this Means, Children will come to see what ’tis in any Miscarriage that is chiefly offensive, and so learn to avoid it. This will en- courage them to keep their Wills right; which is the great Business, when they find that it preserves them from any 1o great Displeasure, and that in all their other Failings they meet with the kind Concern and Help, rather than the Anger and passionate Reproaches of their Tutor and Pa- - rents. Keep them from Vice and vicious Dispositions, and such a Kind of Behaviour in general will come with every 15 degree of their Age, as is suitable to that Age and the Company they ordinarily converse with; and as they grow in Years, they will grow in Attention and Application. But that your Words may always carry Weight and Authority with them, if it shall happen, upon any Occasion, that you 20 bid him leave off the doing of any even childish Things, you must be sure to carry the Point, and not let him have the Mastery. But yet, I say, I would have the Father seldom interpose his Authority and Command in these Cases, or in any other, but such as have a Tendency to 25 vicious Habits. I think there are better Ways of prevailing with them: And a gentle Persuasion in Reasoning, (when the first Point of Submission to your Will is got) will most Times do much better. §81. It will perhaps be wonder’d, that I mention Reason 36 ou) ae ing with Children; and yet I cannot but think "that the true Way of dealing with them. They understand it as early as they do Language; and, if I mis- observe not, they love to be treated as rational Creatures, sooner than is imagin’d. ’Tis a Pride should be cherish’d 35 in them, and, as much as can be, made the greatest Instru- ment to turn them by. But when I talk of Reasoning, I do not intend any other but such as is suited to the Child’s Capacity and Apprehen- sion. No body can think a Boy of three or seven Years 4oold should be argu’d with as a grown Man. Long Dis- courses, and Philosophical Reasonings, at best, amaze and §§ 81, 82] Reason. Examples. 61 confound, but do not instruct Children. When I say, therefore, that they must be #reated as rational Creatures, 1 | mean, that you should make them sensible, by the Mildness of your Carriage, and the Composure even in your Correc- tion of them, that what you do is reasonable in you, and 5 useful and necessary for them; and that it is not out o Caprichio, Passion or Fancy, that you command or forbid them any thing. This they are capable of understanding and there is no Virtue they should be excited to, nor Faul they should be kept from, which I do not think they may be 10 convinced of; but it must be by such Reasons as their Age and Understanding are capable of, and those propos’d always mn very few and plain Words. The Foundations on which several Duties are built, and the Fountains of Right and Wrong from which they spring, are not perhaps easily to be 15 let into the Minds of grown Men, not us’d to abstract their Thoughts from common receiv’d Opinions. Much less are Children capable of Reasonings from remote Principles. They cannot conceive the Force of long Deductions. The Reasons that move them must be obvious, and level to their Thoughts, and such as may (if I may so say) be felt and touch’d. But yet, if their Age, Temper, and Inclination be consider’d, there will never want such Motives as may be sufficient to convince them. If there be no other more particular, yet these will always be intelligible, and of Force, 25 to deter them from any Fault fit to be taken Notice of in them,’ (zzz.) That it will be a Discredit and Disgrace to them, and displease you. : ~ §82. But of all the Ways whereby Children are to be instructed, and their Manners formed, the plain- est, easiest, and most efficacious, is, to set before their Eyes the Examples of those Things you would have them do, oravoid; which, when they are pointed out to them, in the Practice of Persons within their Knowledge, with some Re- flections on their Beauty and Unbecomingness, are of more 3 5 Force to draw or deter their Imitation, than any Discourses which can be made to them. Virtues and Vices can by no Words be so plainly set before their Understandings as the Actions of other Men will shew them, when you direct their Observation, and bid them view this or that good or bad 40 Quality in their Practice. And the Beauty or Uncomeliness nN oO Examples. 30 62 Rules for the Rod. [§§ 82—84 f many Things, in good and ill Breeding, will be better learnt, and make deeper Impressions on them, in the Examples of others, than from any Rules or Instructions can be given about them. This is a Method to be us’d, not only whilst they are young, but to be ‘continu’d even as long as they shall be under another's Tuition or Conduct; nay, I know not whether it be not the best Way to be us’d by a Father, as long as he-shall think fit, on any Occasion, to reform any 10 Thing he wishes mended in his Son; nothing sinking so gently, and so deep, into Men’s Minds, as Example. And what Ill they either overlook or indulge in themselves, they cannot but dislike and be asham’d of, when it is set before them in another. —§ 83. It may be doubted, concerning Wiipping, when, ~ as the last Remedy, it comes to be necessary, at what Times, and by whom it should be done; whether presently upon the committing the Fault, whilst it is yet fresh and hot; and whether Parents themselves 20 should beat their Children.’ As to the first, I think it should not be done presently, lest Passion mingle with it; and so, though it exceed the just Proportion, yet it lose of its due Weight : For even Children discern when we do Things in Passion. But, as I said before, that has most Weight with 25 them, that appears sedately to come from their Parents’ Reason ; and they are not without this Distinction. Next, if you have any discreet Servant capable of it, and has the Place of governing your Child, (for if you have a Tutor, there is no Doubt) I think it is best the Sma7# should come 30 immediately from anothers Hand, though by the Parent’s Order, who should see it done; whereby the Parent’s Autho- rity will be preserv’d, and the Child’s Aversion, for the Pain it suffers, rather to be turn’d on the Person that immediately inflicts. For I would have a Father seldom strike his Child, 35 but upon very urgent Necessity, and as the last Remedy; and then perhaps it will be fit to do it so that the Child should not quickly forget it. § 84. But, as I said before, Beating is the worst, and ~ therefore the last Means to be usd in the Correction of 40 Children, and that only in Cases of Extremity, after all gentle Ways have been try’d, and prov’d unsuccessful; Whipping. § 84] Punishments come of neglect. 63 which, if well observ’d, there will be very seldom any Need of Blows. For, it not being to be imagin’d that a Child will often, if ever, dispute his Father's present Command in any particular Instance, and the Father not interposing his abso- lute Authority, in peremptory Rules, concerning either child- 5 ish or indifferent Actions, wherein his Sen is to have his Liberty, or concerning his Learning or Improvement, wherein there is no Compulsion to be us’d : There remains only the Prohibition of some vicious Actions, wherein a Child is capable of Obstinacy, and consequently can deserve Beating ; 10 and so there will be but very few Occasions of that Dis- cipline to be us’d by any one who considers well and orders his Child’s Education as it should be. For the first seven Years, what Vices can a Child be guilty of, but Lying, or some ill-natur’d Tricks; the repeated Commission whereof, 15 after his Father's direct Command against it, shall bring him into the Condemnation of Obstinacy, and the Chastise- ment of the Rod? If any vicious Inclination in him be, in the first Appearance and Instances of it, treated as it should be, first with your Wonder, and then, if returning 20 again, a second Time discountenanc’d with the severe Brow of a Father, Tutor, and all about him, and a Treatment suitable to the State of Discredit before-mention’d ; and this continu’d till he be made sensible and asham’d of his Fault, I imagine there will be no need of any other Correction, nor 25 ever any Occasion to come to Blows. The Necessity of such Chastisement is usually the Consequence only of former Indulgences or Neglects: If vicious Inclinations were watch’d from the Beginning, and the first Irregularities which they cause, corrected by those gentler Ways, we should seldom 30 have to do with more than one Disorder at once; which would be easily set right without any Stir or Noise, and not require so harsh a Discipline as Beating. Thus one by one, as they appear’d, they might all be weeded out, without any Signs or Memory that ever they had been there. But we 35 letting their Faults (by indulging and humouring our little Ones) grow up, till they are sturdy and numerous, and the Deformity of them makes us asham’d and uneasy, we are fain to come to the Plough and the Harrow ; the Spade and the Pick-Ax must go deep to come at the Roots; and all 40 the Force, Skill, and Diligence we can use, is scarce enough 64 Shew surprise at sin. Must Rod teach? [§§84—86 to cleanse the vitiated Seed-Plat, overgrown with Weeds, and restore us the Hopes of Fruits, to reward our Pains in its Season. § 85. This Course, if observ’d, will spare both Father 5 and Child the Trouble of repeated Injunctions, and multi- ply’d Rules of Doing and Forbearing. For I am of Opinion, that of those Actions which tend to vicious Habits, (which are those alone that a Father should interpose his Authority and Commands in) none should be forbidden Children till 10 they are found guilty of them. For such untimely Pro- hibitions, if they do nothing worse, do at least so much towards teaching and allowing ’em, that they suppose that Children may be guilty of them, who would possibly be safer in the Ignorance of any such Faults. And the best 15 Remedy to stop them, is, as I have said, to shew Wonder and Amazement at any such Action as hath a vicious Ten- dency, when it is first taken Notice of in a Child. For Ex- ample, when he is first found in a Lie, or any ill-natur’d Trick, the first Remedy should be, to talk to him of it as 20 a strange monstrous Matter, that it could not be imagin’d he would have done, and so shame him out of it. § 86. It will be (tis like) objected, that whatsoever I fancy of the Tractableness of Children, and the Prevalency of those softer Ways of Shame and Commendation; yet 25 there are many who will never apply themselves to their Books, and to what they ought to learn, unless they are scourg’d to it. This, I fear, is nothing but the Language of ordinary Schools and Fashion, which have never suffer’d the other to be try’d as it should be, in Places where it could be 30 taken Notice of. Why, else, does the learning of Latin and Greek need the Rod, when French and Italian need if not? Children learn to dance and Fence without Whipping ; nay, Arithmetick, Drawing, &ve. they apply themselves well enough to without Beating: Which would make one sus- 35 pect, that there is something strange, unnatural, and dis- agreeable to that Age, in the Things required in Gram- mar-Schools, or in the Methods us’d there, that Children cannot be brought to, without the Severity of the Lash, and hardly with that too; or else, that it is a Mistake, 4o that those Tongues could not be taught them without Beating. §3:17 The Incorrigible. 65 § 87. But let us suppose some so negligent or idle, that they will not be brought to learn by the gentle Ways pro- pos’d, (for we must grant, that there will be Children found of all Tempers,) yet it does not thence follow, that the rough Discipline of the Cudgel is to be us’d to all. Nor can any one be concluded unmanageable by the milder Methods of Government, till they have been #roughly try’d upon him ; and if they will not prevail with him to use his En- deavours, and do what is in his Power to do, we make no Excuses for the Obstinate. Blows are the proper Remedies for those; but Blows laid on in a Way different from the ordinary. He that wilfully neglects his Book, and stubbornly refuses any thing he can do, requir'd of him by his Father, expressing himself in a positive serious Command, should not be corrected with two or three angry Lashes, for not performing his Task, and the same Punishment repeated again and again upon every the like Default; but when it is brought to that pass, that Wilfulness evidently shews itself, and makes Blows necessary, I think the Chastisement should be a little more sedate, and a little more severe, and the Whipping 2 (mingled with Admonition between) so continu’d, till the Im- pressions of it on the Mind were found legible in the Face, Voice, and Submission of the Child, not so sensible of the Smart as of the Fault he has been guilty of, and melting in true Sorrow under it. If such a Correction as this, try’d some few Times at fit Distances, and carry’d to the utmost Severity, with the visible Displeasure of the Father all the while, will not work the Effect, turn the Mind, and produce a future Compliance, what can be hop’d from Blows, and to what Purpose should they be any more us’d? Beating, : when you can expect no Good from it, will look more like the Fury of an enrag’d Enemy, than the Good-Will of a compassionate Friend ; and such Chastisement carries with it only Provocation, without any Prospect of Amendment. 5 wa O If it be any Father's Misfortune to have a Son thus perverse 33 and untractable, I know not what more he can do but pray for him. But, I imagine, if a right Course be taken with Children from the Beginning, very few will be found to be such ; and when there are any such Instances, they are not to be the Rule for the Education of those who are better 40 natur’d, and may be manag’d with better Usage. Q 5 66 Tutors must have and deserve Respect. [§§ 88—go § 88. If a Zutor can be got, that, thinking himself in the Father's Place, charg’d with his Care, and Fuckers relishing these Things, will at the Beginning apply himself to put them in Practice, he will afterwards 5 find his Work very easy; and you will, I guess, have your Son in a little Time a greater Proficient in both Learning and Breeding than perhaps you imagine. But let him by no Means beat him at any Time without your Consent and Direction; at least till you have Experience of his Dis- 10 cretion and Temper. But yet, to keep up his Authority with his Pupil, besides concealing that he has not the Power . of the Rod, you must be sure to use him with great Respect your self, and cause all your Family to do so too: For you cannot expect your Son should have any Regard for one 15 whom he sees you, or his Mother, or others slight. If you think him worthy of Contempt, you have chosen amiss; and if you shew any Contempt of him, he will hardly escape it from your Son: And whenever that happens, whatever Worth he may have in himself, and Abilities for this Em- 20 ployment, they are all lost to your Child, and can afterwards never be made useful to him. § 89. As the Father's Example must teach the Child Respect for his Tutor, so the Tutor’s Example must lead the Child into those Actions he would have him do. His 25 Practice must by no means cross his Precepts, unless he intend to set him wrong. It will be to no Purpose for the Tutor to talk of the Restraint of the Passions whilst any of his own are let loose; and he will in vain endeavour to reform any Vice or Indecency in his Pupil, which he allows 30 in himself. Ill Patterns are sure to be follow’d more than good Rules; and therefore he must always carefully pre- serve him from the Influence of ill Precedents, especially the most dangerous of all, the Examples of the Servants; from whose Company he is to be kept, not by Prohibitions, 35 for that will but give him an Itch after it, but by other Ways I have mention’d. § go. In all the whole Business of Education, there is nothing like to be less hearken’d to, or harder to be well observ’d, than what I am now going 40 to say; and that is, that Children should, from their first beginning to talk, have some discreet, sober, nay, wise Per- Governor §§ 90, 91] Importance of the Tutor. 67 son about them, whose Care it should be to fashion them aright, and keep them from all Ill, especially the Infection of bad Company. I think this Province requires great Sobriety, Temperance, Tenderness, Diligence, and Discretion ; Qualities hardly to be found united in Persons that are to 5 be had for ordinary Salaries, nor easily to be found any where. As to the Charge of it, I think it will be the Money best laid out that can be, about our Children; and therefore, though it may be expensive more than is ordinary, yet it cannot be thought dear. He that at any rate pro- 10 cures his Child a good Mind, well-principled, temper’d to Virtue and Usefulness, and adorn’d with Civility and good Breeding, makes a better Purchase for him than if he laid out the Money for an Addition of more Earth to his former Acres. Spare it in Toys and Play-Games, in Silk 15 and Ribbons, Laces, and other useless Expences, as much as you please ; but be not sparing in so necessary a Part as this. ’Tis not good Husbandry to make his Fortune rich, and his Mind poor. I have often with great Admiration seen People lavish it profusely in tricking up their Children 20 in fine Clothes, lodging and feeding them sumptuously, allowing them more than enough of useless Servants, and yet at the same Time starve their Minds, and not take sufficient Care to cover that which is the most shameful Nakedness, viz. their natural wrong Inclinations and Ignorance. This 25 I can look on as no other than a sacrificing to their own Vanity, it shewing more their Pride than true Care of the Good of their Children; whatsoever you employ to the Advantage of your Son’s Mind, will shew your true Kind- ness, tho’ it be to the lessening of his Estate. A wise and 30 good Man can hardly want either the Opinion or Reality of being great and happy; but he that is foolish or vicious, can be neither great nor happy, what Estate soever you leave him: And I ask you, Whether there be not Men in the World, whom you had rather have your Son be with 35 five hundred Pounds per Annum, than some other you know with five thousand Pounds. § 91. The Consideration of Charge ought not therefore to deter those who are able. The great Difficulty will be where to find a proper Person: For those of small Age, 40 Parts, and Vertue, are unfit for this Employment, and those ’ §=—2 68 Choice of Tutor. [88 91—93 that have greater, will hardly be got to undertake such a Charge. You must therefore look out early, and enquire every where ; for the World has People of all Sorts. And I remember, Montaigne says in one of his Essays, That the 5 learned Casfalio was fain to make Trenchers at Basle, to keep himself from starving, when his Father would have given any Money for such a Tutor for his Son, and Castalio have willingly embrac’d such an Employment upon very reasonable Terms ; but this was for want of Intelligence. 10 § 92. Ifyou find it difficult to meet with such a Tutor as we desire, you are not to wonder. I only can say, spare no Care nor Cost to get such an one. All Things are to be had that Way: And I dare assure you, that if you can get a good one, you will never repent the Charge; but will 15 always have the Satisfaction to think it the Money of all other the best laid out. But be sure take no body upon Friends, or Charity, no, nor upon great Commendations. Nay, if you will do as you ought, the Reputation of a sober Man, with a good Stock of Learning, (which is all usually 20 requird in a Tutor) will not be enough to serve your Turn. In this Choice be as curious as you would be in that of a Wife for him ; for you must not think of Trial or Changing afterwards: This will cause great Inconvenience to you, and greater to your Son. When I consider the Scruples 25 and Cautions I here lay in your Way, methinks it looks as if I advis'd you to something which I would have offerd at, but in Effect not done. But he that shall consider how much the Business of a Tutor, rightly employ’d, lies out of the Road, and how remote it is from the Thoughts of many, 30 even of those who propose to themselves this Employment, - will perhaps be of my Mind, that one fit to educate and form the Mind of a young Gentleman is not every where to be found, and that more than ordinary Care is to be taken in the Choice of him, or else you may fail of your 35 End. § 93. The Character of a sober Man and a Scholar, is, as I have above observ’d, what every one expects in a Tutor. This generally is thought enough, and is all that Parents commonly look for: But when such an one has 40 empty’d out into his Pupil all the Latin and Logick he has brought from the University, will that Furniture make him $ 93] Good Breeding essential. 69 a fine Gentleman? Or can it be expected, that he should be better bred, better skill’d in the World, better principled in the Grounds and Foundations of true Virtue and Gene- rosity, than his young Zufor is? To form a young Gentleman as he should be, ’tis fit his 3 Governor should himself be well-bred, understanding the Ways of Carriage and Measures of Civility in all the Variety of Persons, Times, and Places; and keep his Pupil, as much as his Age requires, constantly to the Observation of them. This is an Art not to be learnt nor taught by 10 Books. Nothing can give it but good Company and Observation join'd together. The Taylor may make his Clothes modish, and the Dancing-master give Fashion to his Motions ; yet neither of these, tho’ they set off well, make a well-bred Gentleman: No, tho’ he have Learning 15 to boot, which, if not well manag’d, makes him more imper-| tinent and intolerable in Conversation. Breeding is that which sets a Gloss upon all his other good Qualities, and renders them useful to him, in procuring him the Esteem) “and Good-will of all that he comes near. Without good 20 Breeding his other Accomplishments make him pass but for proud, conceited, vain, or foolish. Courage in an ill-bred Man has the Air and escapes not the Opinion of Brutality : Learning becomes Pedantry; Wit, Buffoonry; Plainness, Rusticity ; good Nature, Fawn- 25 ing. And there cannot be a good Quality in him, which Want of Breeding will not warp and disfigure to his Disad- vantage. Nay, Virtue and Parts, though they are allow’d their due Commendation, yet are not enough to procure a Man a good Reception, and make him welcome wherever 30 he comes. No body contents himself with rough Dia- monds, and wears them so, who would appear with Advan- tage. When they are polish’d and set, then they give a Lustre. Good Qualities are the substantial Riches of the Mind, but ’tis good Breeding sets them off: And he that 35 will be acceptable, must give Beauty, as well as Strength, to his Actions. Solidity, or even Usefulness, is not enough: A graceful Way and Fashion in every thing, is that which gives the Ornament and Liking. And in most Cases, the Manner of doing is of more Consequence than the Thing 40 done ; and upon that depends the Satisfaction or Disgust no The Tutor must see to Manners. [§ 03 wherewith it is receiv’d. This therefore, which lies not in the putting off the Hat, nor making of Compliments, but in a due and free Composure of Language, Looks, Motion, Posture, Place, &c. suited to Persons and Occasions, and 5 can be learn’d only by Habit and Use, though it be’ above the Capacity of Children, and little ones should not be perplex’d about it, yet it ought to be begun and in a good measure learn’d by a young Gentleman whilst he is under a Tutor, before he comes into the World upon his own Legs: 10 For then usually it is too late to hope to reform several habitual Indecencies, which lie in little Things. For the Carriage is not as it should be, till it is become natural in every Part, falling, as skilful Musicians’ Fingers do, into harmonious Order without Care and without Thought. 15 If in Conversation a Man’s Mind be taken up with a solicit- ous Watchfulness about any Part of his Behaviour ; instead of being mended by it, it will be constrain’d, uneasy, and ungraceful. Besides, this Part is most necessary to be form’d by the 20 Hands and Care of a Governor, because, though the Errors committed in Breeding are the first that are taken notice of by others, yet they are the last that any one is told of; not but that the Malice of the World is forward enough to tattle of them; but it is always out of his hearing, who 25 should make Profit of their Judgment and reform himself by their Censure. And indeed, this is so nice a Point to be meddled with, that even those who are Friends, and wish it were mended, scarce ever dare mention it, and tell those they love that they are guilty in such or such Cases 30 of ill Breeding. Errors in other Things may often with Civility be shewn another; and ’tis no Breach of good Manners or Friendship to set him right in other Mistakes ; but good Breeding itself allows not a Man to touch upon this, or to insinuate to another that he is guilty of Want of 35 Breeding. Such Information can come only from those who have Authority over them; and from them too it comes very hardly and harshly to a grown Man; and how- ever soften’d, goes but ill down with any one who has liv’d ever so little in the World. Wherefore it is necessary that 40 this Part should be the Governor's principal Care, that an habitual Gracefulness, and Politeness in all his Carriage, §§ 93,94] Teaching knowledge of the World. 71 may be settled in his Charge, as much as may be, betore he goes out of his Hands; and that he may not need Advice in this Point when he has neither Time nor Disposition to receive it, nor has any body left to give it him. The Zufor| therefore ought in the first Place to be well-bred: And a/ 3 young Gentleman, who gets this one Qualification from his Governor, sets out with great Advantage, and will find that this one Accomplishment will more open his Way to him, get him more Friends, and carry him farther in the World, than all the hard Words or real Knowledge he has got from 10 the Liberal Arts, or his Zufor’s learned Encyclopaidia : Not | that those should be neglected, but by no means preferr'd, | or suffer’d to thrust out the other. - § 94. Besides being well-bred, the Zw#or should know the World well; the Ways, the Humours, the Follies, the 15 Cheats, the Faults of the Age he is fallen into, and par- ticularly of the Country he lives in. These he should be able to shew to his Pupil, as he finds him capable; teach him Skill in Men, and their Manners; pull off the Mask which their several Callings and Pretences cover them with, 20 and make his Pupil discern what lies at the Bottom under such Appearances, that he may not, as unexperienc’d young Men are apt to do if they are unwarn’d, take one Thing for another, judge by the Outside, and give himself up to Shew, and the Insinuation of a fair Carriage, or an obliging 25 Application. A Governor should teach his Scholar to guess at and beware of the Designs of Men he hath to do with, neither with too much Suspicion, nor too much Con- fidence ; but as the young Man is by Nature most inclin’d to either Side, rectify him, and bend him the other Way. 30 He should accustom him to make, as much as is possible, a true Judgment of Men by those Marks which serve best to shew what they are, and give a Prospect into their Inside, which often shews itself in little Things, especially when they are not in Parade, and upon their Guard. He should 33 acquaint him with the true State of the World, and dispose him to think no Man better or worse, wiser or foolisher, than he really is. Thus, by safe and insensible Degrees, he will pass from a Boy to a Man ; which is the most hazard- ous Step in all the whole Course of Life. This therefore 40 should be carefully watch’d, and a young Man with great %2 Dangers from ignorance of the World. [§ 94 Diligence handed over it; and not as now usually is done, be taken from a Gowernor’s Conduct, and all at once thrown into the World under his own, not without manifest Dangers of immediate spoiling; there being nothing more frequent 5 than Instances of the great Looseness, Extravagancy, and Debauchery, which young Men have run into as soon as they have been let loose from a severe and strict Education: Which I think may be chiefly imputed to their wrong Way of Breeding, especially in this Part; for having been bred Io up in a great Ignorance of what the World truly is, and finding it a quite other Thing, when they come into it, than what they were taught it should be, and so imagin'd it was, are easily persuaded, by other kind of Tutors, which they are sure to meet with, that the Discipline they were kept 15 under, and the Lectures read to them, were but the For- malities of Education and the Restraints of Childhood ; that the Freedom belonging to Men is to take their Swing in a full Enjoyment of what was before forbidden them. They shew the young Novice the World full of fashionable 20 and glittering Examples of this every where, and he is presently dazzled with them. My young Master failing not to be willing to shew himself a Man, as much as any of the Sparks of his Years, lets himself loose to all the Irregu- larities he finds in the most debauch’d; and thus courts 25 Credit and Manliness in the casting off the Modesty and | Sobriety he has till then been kept in; and thinks it brave, \at his first setting out, to signalize himself in running /counter to all the Rules of Virtue which have been preach’d "to him by his Tutor. 30 The shewing him the World as really it is, before he comes wholly into it, is one of the best Means, I think, to prevent this Mischief. He should by Degrees be informed of the Vices in Fashion, and warned of the Applications and Designs of those who will make it their Business to 35 corrupt him. He should be told the Arts they use, and the Trains they lay ; and now and then have set before him the tragical or ridiculous Examples of those who are ruining or ruin’d this Way. The Age is not like to want Instances of this kind, which should be made Land-marks to him, that 40 by the Disgraces, Diseases, Beggary, and Shame of hopeful young Men thus brought to Ruin, he may be precaution’d, $ 94] Forewarned, forearmed. 73 and be made see, how those join in the Contempt and Neg- lect of them that are undone, who, by Pretences of Friend- ship and Respect, lead them to it, and help to prey upon them whilst they were undoing ; that he may see, before he buys it by a too dear Experience, that those who persuade 5 him not to follow the sober Advices he has receiv’d from his Governors, and the Counsel of his own Reason, which they call being govern’d by others, do it only that they may have the Government of him themselves; and make him believe, he goes like a Man of himself, by his own Conduct, 10 and for his own Pleasure, when in Truth he is wholly as a Child led by them into those Vices which best serve their Purposes. This is a Knowledge which, upon all Occasions, a Zutor should endeavour to instil, and by all Methods try to make him comprehend, and thoroughly relish. 15 I know it is often said, that to discover to a young Man the Vices of the Age is to teach them him. That, I con- fess, is a good deal so, according as it is done ; and therefore requires a discreet Man of Parts, who knows the World, and can judge of the Temper, Inclination, and weak Side of his 20 Pupil. This farther is to be remember’d, that it is not possible now (as perhaps formerly it was) to keep a young Gentleman from Vice by a total Ignorance of it, unless you will all his Life mew him up in a Closet, and never let him go into Company. The longer he is kept thus hoodwink’d, the less he will see when he comes abroad into open Day- light, and be the more expos’d to be a Prey to himself and others. And an old Boy, at his first Appearance, with all the Gravity of his Ivy-Bush about him, is sure to draw on him the Eyes and Chirping or the whole Town Volery ; 30 amongst which there will not be wanting some Birds of Prey, that will presently be on the Wing for him. The only Fence against the World, is, a thorough Know- ledge of it, into which a young Gentleman should be enter’d by Degrees, as he can bear it ; and the earlier the better, so 35 he be in safe and skilful Hands to guide him. The Scene should be gently open’d, and his Entrance made Step by . Step, and the Dangers pointed out that attend him from the several Degrees, Tempers, Designs, and Clubs of Men. He should be prepar’d to be shock’d by some, and caress’d 40 by others; warn’d who are like to oppose, who to mislead, nw wu 5 I0 1 wu 2 Oo N 19; 30 35 74 Breeding before Booklearning. [S04 who to undermine him, and who to serve him. He should be instructed how to know and distinguish them; where he should let them see, and when dissemble the Knowledge of them and their Aims and Workings. And if he be too for- ward to venture upon his own Strength and Skill, the Per- plexity and Trouble of a Misadventure now and then, that reaches not his Innocence, his Health, or Reputation, may not be an ill Way to teach him more Caution. This, I confess, containing one great Part of Wisdom, is not the Product of some superficial Thoughts, or much Reading ; but the Effect of Experience and Observation in a Man who has liv’d in the World with his Eyes open, and convers’d with Men of all Sorts. And therefore I think it of most Value to be instill’d into a young Man upon all Occa- sions which offer themselves, that when he comes to launch into the Deep himself, he may not be like one at Sea with- out a Line, Compass or Sea-Chart; but may have some Notice before-hand of the Rocks and Shoals, the Currents and Quick-sands, and know a little how to steer, that he sink not before he get Experience. He that thinks not this of more Moment to his Son, and for which he more needs a Governor, than the Languages and learned Sciences, forgets of how much more Use it is to judge right of Men, and manage his Affairs wisely with them, than to speak Greek 5 and Latin, or argue in Mood and Figure; or to have his Head fill'd with the abstruse Speculations of natural Philo- sophy and Metaphysicks; nay, than to be well vers'd in Greek and Roman Writers, though that be much better for a Gentleman than to be a good Peripatetick or Cartesian, because those antient Authors observ’d and painted Man- kind well, and give the best Light into that kind of Know- ledge. He that goes into the Eastern Parts of Asia, will find able and acceptable Men without any of these; but without Virtue, Knowledge of the World, and Civility, an accomplish’d and valuable Man can be found no where. A great Part of the Learning now in Fashion in the Schools of Europe, and that goes ordinarily into the Round | of Education, a Gentleman may in a good Measure be un- furnish’d with, without any great Disparagement to himself 40 or Prejudice to his Affairs. But Prudence and good Breed- ing are in all the Stations and Occurrences of Life necessary; § 94] True function of the Tutor. we and most young Men suffer in the Want of them, and come rawer and more awkward into the World than they should, for this very Reason, because these Qualities, which are of all other the most necessary to be taught, and stand most in need of the Assistance and Help of a Teacher, are generally 35 neglected and thought but a slight or no Part of a Zutor's Business. Za#in and Learning make all the Noise; and the main Stress is laid upon his Proficiency in Things a great Part whereof belong not to a Gentleman's Calling ; which is to have the Knowledge of a Man of Business, a 10 Carriage suitable to his Rank, and to be eminent and useful in his Country, according to his Station. Whenever either spare Hours from that, or an Inclination to perfect himself in some Parts of Knowledge, which his Zwfor did but just enter him in, set him upon any Study, the first Rudiments 15 of it, which he learn’d before, will open the Way enough for his own Industry to carry him as far as his Fancy will prompt, or his Parts enable him to go. Or, if he thinks it may save his Time and Pains to be help’d over some Diffi- culties by the Hand of a Master, he may then take a Man 20 that is perfectly well skilled in it, or chuse such an one as he thinks fittest for his Purpose. But to initiate his Pupil in any Part of Learning, as far as is necessary for a young Man in the ordinary Course of his Studies, an ordinary Skill in the Gowvermor is enough. Nor is it requisite that he 25 should be a thorough Scholar, or possess in Perfection all those Sciences which ’tis convenient a young Gentleman should have a Taste of in some general View, or short System. A Gentleman that would penetrate deeper must do it by his own Genius and Industry afterwards: For no\30 \body ever went far in Knowledge, or became eminent in lany of the Sciences, by the Discipline and Constraint of a | Master. \ The great Work of a Governor, is to fashion the Carriage, and form the Mind ; to settle in his Pupil good Habits and 35 the Principles of Virtue and Wisdom ; to give him by little and little a View of Mankind, and work him into a Love and Imitation of what is excellent and praise-worthy; and, in the Prosecution of it, to give him Vigour, Activity, and Industry. The Studies which he sets him upon, are but as 40 it were the Exercises of his Faculties, and Employment of 76 ‘““ Non vite sed schole discimus.” [§ 94 his Time, to keep him from Sauntering and Idleness, to teach him Application, and accustom him to take Pains, and to give him some little Taste of what his own Industry must perfect. For who expects, that under a Zwfor a young 5 Gentleman should be an accomplish’d Critick, Orator, or Logician? go to the Bottom of Metaphysicks, natural Philo- sophy, or Mathematicks? or be a Master in History or Chronology? though something of each of these is to be taught him: But it is only to open the Door, that he may 10 look in, and as it were begin an Acquaintance, but not to dwell there: And a Governor would be much blam’d that should keep his Pupil too long, and lead him too far in most of them. But of good Breeding, Knowledge of the World, Virtue, Industry, and a Love of Reputation, he can- t5 not have too much : And if he have these, he will not long want what he needs or desires of the other. And since it cannot be hop’d he should have Time and Strength to learn all Things, most Pains should be taken about that which is most necessary; and that principally 20 look’d after which will be of most and frequentest Use to him in the World. Seneca complains of the contrary Practice in his Time; and yet the Burgursdicius’s and the Scheiblers did not swarm in those Days as they do now in these. What would he 25 have thought if he had liv’d now, when the ZuZors think it their great Business to fill the Studies and Heads of their Pupils with such Authors as these? He would have had much more Reason to say, as he does, Non vite sed schole discimus, We learn not to live, but to dispute; and our 30 Education fits us rather for the University than the World. But ’tis no wonder if those who make the Fashion suit it to what they have, and not to what their Pupils want. The Fashion being once establish’d, who can think it strange, that in this, as well as in all other Things, it should prevail? 35 And that the greatest Part of those, who find their Account in an easy Submission to it, should be ready to cry out, Heresy, when any one departs from it? ’'Tis nevertheless Matter of Astonishment that Men of Quality and Parts should suffer themselves to be so far misled by Custom and 4o implicit Faith. Reason, if consulted with, would advise, that their Children’s Time should be spent in acquiring what § 94] Get Man of the World for Tutor. vy might be useful to them when they come to be Men, rather than to have their Heads stuff’d with a deal of Trash, a great Part whereof they usually never do (tis certain they never need to) think on again as long as they live; and so much of it as does stick by them they are only the worse 5 for. This is so well known, that I appeal to Parents them- selves, who have been at Cost to have their young Heirs taught it, whether it be not ridiculous for their Sons to have any Tincture of that Sort of Learning, when they come abroad into the World? whether any Appearance of it ro would not lessen and disgrace them in Company? And that certainly must be an admirable Acquisition, and deserves well to make a Part in Education, which Men are asham’d of where they are most concern’d to shew their Parts and Breeding. 15 There is yet another Reason why Politeness of Manners, and Knowledge of the World should principally be look’d after in a Zutor ; and that is, because a Man of Parts and Years may enter a Lad far enough in any of those Sciences, which he has no deep Insight into himself. Books 20 in these will be able to furnish him, and give him Light and Precedency enough to go before a young Follower: But he will never be able to set another right in the Knowledge of the World, and above all in Breeding, who is a Novice in them himself. 25 This is a Knowledge he must have about him, worn into him by Use and Conversation, and a long forming himself by what he has observ’d to be practis’d and allow’d in the best Company. This, if he has it not of his own, is no where to be borrowed for the Use of his Pupil; or if he 30 could find pertinent Treatises of it in Books that would reach all the Particulars of an English Gentleman's Beha- viour, his own ill-fashion’d Example, if he be not well-bred himself, would spoil all his Lectures; it being impossible, that any one should come forth well-fashion’d out of un- 33 polish’d, ill-bred Company. I say this, not that I think such a Zufor is every Day to be met with, or to be had at the ordinary Rates; but that those who are able, may not be sparing of Enquiry or Cost ‘in what is of so great Moment; and that other Parents, 40 whose Estates will not reach to greater Salaries, may yet 78 Father and Son. [§§ 94—96 remember what they should principally have an Eye to in the Choice of one to whom they would commit the Educa- tion of their Children; and what Part they should chiefly look after themselves, whilst they are under their Care, and 5 as often as they come within their Observation; and not think that all lies in Za#iz and French or some dry Systems of Logick and Philosophy. § 95. But to return to our Method again. Though I Paneiertin have mention’d the Severity of the Father's io Brow, and the Awe settled thereby in the Mind of Children when young, as one main Instrument whereby their Education is to be manag’d; yet I am far from being of an Opinion that it should be continu’d all along to them, whilst they are under the Discipline and Government of I5 Pupilage; I think it should be relax’d, as fast as their Age, Discretion and good Behaviour could allow it; even to that Degree, that a Father will do well, as his Son grows up, and is capable of it, to Zak familiarly with him; nay, ask his Advice, and consult with him about those Things wherein 20 he has any Knowledge or Understanding. By this, the Father will gain two Things, both of great Moment. The one is, that it will put serious Considerations into his Son’s Thoughts, better than any Rules or Advices he can give him. The sooner you #reat him as a Man, the sooner he 25 will begin to be one: And if you admit him into serious Discourses sometimes with you, you will insensibly raise his Mind above the usual Amusements of Youth, and those trifling Occupations which it is commonly wasted in. For it is easy to observe, that many young Men continue longer 30 in the Thought and Conversation of School-Boys than otherwise they would, because their Parents keep them at that Distance, and in that low Rank, by all their Carriage to them. § 96. Another Thing of greater Consequence, which 35 you will obtain by such a Way of treating him, will be Zz Friendship. Many Fathers, though they proportion to their Sons liberal Allowances, according to their Age and Con- dition, yet they keep the Knowledge of their Estates and Concerns from them with as much Reservedness as if they 40 were guarding a Secret of State from a Spy or an Enemy. This, if it looks not like Jealousy, yet it wants those Marks §§ 06, 97] Friendship of Father and Son. 79 of Kindness and Intimacy which a Father should shew to his Son, and no doubt often hinders or abates that Chear- fulness and Satisfaction wherewith a Son should address himself to, and rely upon his Father. And I cannot but often wonder to see Fathers who love their Sons very well, yet so order the Matter by a constant Stiffness and a Mien of Authority and Distance to them all their Lives, as if they were never to enjoy, or have any Comfort from those they love best in the World, till they had lost them by being remov’d into another. Nothing cements and establishes Friendship and Good-will so much as confident Communica- Zion of Concernments and Affairs. Other Kindnesses, with- out this, leave still some Doubts: But when your Son sees you open your Mind to him, when he finds that you interest him in your Affairs, as Things you are willing should in their Turn come into his Hands, he will be concern’d for them as for his own, wait his Season with Patience, and love you in the mean Time, who keep him not at the Distance of a Stranger. This will also make him see, that the Enjoy- ment you have, is not without Care; which the more he is sensible of, the less will he envy you the Possession, and the more think himself happy under the Management of so favourable a Friend and so careful a Father. There is scarce any young Man of so little Thought, or so void of Sense, that would not be glad of a sure Friend, that he might have Recourse to, and freely consult on Occasion. The Re- servedness and Distance that Fathers keep, often deprive their Sons of that Refuge which would be of more Advan- tage to them than an hundred Rebukes and Chidings. Would your Son engage in some Frolick, or take a Vagary, were it not much better he should do it with, than without your Knowledge? For since Allowances for such Things must be made to young Men, the more you know of his Intrigues and Designs, the better will you be able to prevent great Mischiefs; and by letting him see what is like to 35 follow, take the right way of prevailing with him to avoid less Inconveniences. Would you have him open his Heart to you, and ask your Advice? you must begin to do so with him first, and by your Carriage beget that Confidence. § 97. But whatever he consults you about, unless it 40 lead to some fatal and irremediable Mischief, be sure you 80 Father’sFriendship. Exercising Reason. [§§ 97,98 advise only as a Friend of more Experience; but with your Advice mingle nothing of Command or Authority, nor more than you would to your Equal or a Stranger. That would be to drive him for ever from any farther demanding, or 5 receiving Advantage from your Counsel. You must con- sider that he is a young Man, and has Pleasures and Fancies which you are pass’d. You must not expect his Inclination should be just as yours, nor that at twenty he should have the same Thoughts you have at fifty. All that you can wish, 10 is, that since Youth must have some Liberty, some Out- leaps, they might be with the Ingenuity of a Son, and wzder the Eye of a Father, and then no very great Harm can come of it. The Way to obtain this, as I said before, is (accord- ing as you find him capable) to talk with him about your 15 Affairs, propose Matters to him familiarly, and ask his Advice; and when he ever lights on the right, follow it as his; and if it succeed well, let him have the Commenda- tion. This will not at all lessen your Authority, but increase his Love and Esteem of you. Whilst you keep your Estate, 20 the Staff will still be in your own Hands; and your Au- thority the surer, the more it is strengthen’d with Confi- dence and Kindness. For you have not that Power you ought to have over him, till he comes to be more afraid of offending so good a Friend than of losing some Part of his 25 future Expectation. 98. Familiarity of Discourse, if it can become a Father to his Son, may much more be condescended to by a Tutor to his Pupil. All their Time together should not be spent in reading of Lectures, and magisterially dictating 30 to him what he is to observe and follow. Hearing him in his turn, and using him to reason about what is propos’d, will make the Rules go down the easier and sink the deeper, and will give him a liking to Study and Instruction: And he will then begin to value Knowledge, when he sees that 35 it enables him to discourse, and he finds the Pleasure and Credit of bearing a Part in the Conversation, and of having his Reasons sometimes approv’d and hearken’d to; particu- larly in Morality, Prudence, and Breeding, Cases should be ' put to him, and his Judgment ask’d. This opens the Un- 40 derstanding better than Maxims, how well soever explain’d, and settles the Rules better in the Memory for Practice. §§08,99] Against Disputations. Secure Reverence. 8:1 This Way lets Things into the Mind, which stick there, and retain their Evidence with them; whereas Words at best are faint Representations, being not so much as the true Shadows of Things, and are much sooner forgotten. He will better comprehend the Foundations and Measures § of Decency and Justice, and have livelier, and more lasting Impressions of what he ought to do, by giving his Opinion on Cases propos’d, and reasoning with his Tutor on fit Instances, than by giving a silent, negligent, sleepy Audi- ence to his Tutor’s Lectures; and much more than by 10 captious logical Disputes, or set Declamations of his own, upon any Question. The one sets the Thoughts upon Wit and false Colours, and not upon Truth; the other teaches Fallacy, Wrangling, and Opiniatry; and they are both of them Things that spoil the Judgment, and put a Man out 15 of the Way of right and fair Reasoning; and therefore care- fully to be avoided by one who would improve himself, and be acceptable to others. § 99. When by making your Son sensible that he de- pends on you, and is in your Power, you have Rts 20 establish’d your Authority; and by being inflexi- 3 bly severe in your Carriage to him when obstinately per- sisting in any illnatur’d Trick which you have forbidden, especially Lying, you have imprinted on his Mind that Awe which is necessary; and, on the other side, when (by permit- 25 ting him the full Liberty due to his Age, and laying no Restraint in your Presence to those childish Actions and Gaiety of Carriage, which, whilst he is very young, is as necessary to him as Meat or Sleep) you have reconcil’d him to your Company, and made him sensible of your Care and 30 Love of him, by Indulgence and Tenderness, especially caressing him on all Occasions wherein he does any Thing well, and being kind to him after a thousand Fashions, suitable to his Age, which Nature teaches Parents better than I can: When, I say, by these Ways of Tenderness and 35 Affection, which Parents never want for their Children, you have also planted in him a particular Affection for you; he .is then in the State you could desire, and you have form’d in his Mind that true Reverence which is always afterwards carefully to be continu’d, and maintain’d in both Parts of 40 it, Love, and Fzar, as the great Principles whereby you will Q. 6 32 Study the Child’s Character. [§§ g9—102 always have Hold upon him, to turn his Mind to the Ways of Virtue and Honour. § roo. When this Foundation is once well lay’d, and you find this Reverence begin to work in him, the next thing to be done, is carefully to con- sider his Zemper, and the particular Constitution of his Mind. Stubbornness, Lying, and ill-natur’d Actions, are not (as has been said) to be permitted in him from the Beginning, whatever his Temper be. Those Seeds of Vices 10 are not to be suffer'd to take any Root, but must be care- fully weeded out, as soon as ever they begin to shew them- selves in him; and your Authority is to take Place and Influence his Mind, from the very dawning of any Know- ledge in him, that it may operate as a natural Principle, 15 whereof he never perceiv’d the Beginning, never knew that it was, or could be otherwise, By this, .if the Reverence he owes you be establish’d early, it will always be sacred to him, and it will be as hard for him to resist it as the Prin- ciples of his Nature. 20 § rot. Having thus very early set up your Authority, ‘and by the gentler Applications of it sham’d him out of what leads towards an immoral Habit, as soon as you have observ’d it in him, (for I would by no Means have Chiding us’d, much less Blows, till Obstinacy and Incorrigibleness 25 make it absolutely necessary) it will be fit to consider which Way the natural Make of his Mind inclines him. Some Men by the unalterable Frame of their Constitutions, are stout, others Zimorous, some confident, others modest, tractable, or obstinate, curious or careless, quick or slow. There are 30 not more Differences in Men’s Faces, and the outward Lineaments of their Bodies, than there are in the Makes and Tempers of their Minds; only there is this Difference, that the distinguishing Characters of the Face, and the Lineaments of the Body, grow more plain and visible with 35 Time and Age; but the peculiar Physiognomy of the Mind is most discernible in Children, before Art and Cunning have taught them to hide their Deformities, and conceal their ill Inclinations under a dissembled Outside. § 102. Begin therefore betimes nicely to observe your 40 Son’s Zemper; and that, when he is under least Restraint, in his Play, and as he thinks out of your Sight. See what are Temper. §§ 102—105] Child loves Liberty and Power. 83 his predominate Passions and prevailing Inclinatiorns; whether he be fierce or mild, bold or bashful, compassionate or cruel, open or reserv’d &¢. For as these are different in him, so are your Methods to be different, and your Authority must hence take Measures to apply itself different Ways to him. 5 These native Propensities, these Prevalencies of Constitution, are not to be curd by Rules, or a direct Contest, especially those of them that are the humbler and meaner Sort, which proceed from Fear, and Lowness of Spirit; though with Art they may be much mended, and turn’d to good Purposes. 10 But this, be sure, after all is done, the Byass will always hang on that Side that Nature first plac’d it: And if you carefully observe the Characters of his Mind, now in the first Scenes of his Life, you will ever after be able to judge which Way his Thoughts lean, and what he aims at even 15 hereafter, when, as he grows up, the Plot thickens, and he puts on several Shapes to act it. § 103. I told you before, that Children love Ziderty ; and therefore they should be brought to do the , ~~ Things are fit for them, without feeling any ioe Restraint laid upon them. I now tell you, they love some- thing more; and that is Dominion : And this is the first Original of most vicious Habits, that are ordinary and natural. This Love of Power and Dominion shews itself very early, and that in these two Things. 23 § 104. 1. We see children, as soon almost as they are born (I am sure long before they can speak) cry, grow peevish, sullen, and out of Humour, for nothing but to have their Wiis. They would have their Desires submitted to by others; they contend for a ready Compliance from all 30 about them, especially from those that stand near or beneath them in Age or Degree, as soon as they come to consider others with those Distinctions. § 105. Another Thing wherein they shew their Love of Dominion, is, their Desire to have Things to be theirs: 335 They would have Propriety and Possession, pleasing them- selves with the Power which that seems to give, and the Right they thereby have, to dispose of them as they please. He that has not observ'd these two Humours working very betimes in Children, has taken little Notice of their Actions: 40 And he who thinks that these two Roots of almost all the 6—2 84 Children must not be Choosers. [§§ 105—107 Injustice and Contention that so disturb human Life, are not early to be weeded out, and contrary Habits introduc’d, neglects the proper Season to lay the Foundations of a good and worthy Man. To do this, I imagine these following 5 Things may somewhat conduce. § 106. 1. That a Child should never be sufferd to have what he craves, much less what he cries Sor, 1 had said, or so much as speaks for: But that being apt to be misunderstood, and interpreted roas if I meant a Child should never speak to his Parents for any Thing, which will perhaps be thought to lay too great a. Curb on the Minds of Children, to the Prejudice of that Love and Affection which should be be- tween them and their Parents; I shall explain my self a 15 little more particularly. It is fit that they should have Liberty to declare their Wants to their Parents, and that with all Tenderness they should be hearken’d to, and supply’d, at least whilst they are very little. But ’tis one Thing to say, I am hungry, another to say, I would have Roast-Meat. 20 Having declar’d their Wants, their natural Wants, the Pain they feel from Hunger, Thirst, Cold, or any other Necessity of Nature, ’tis the Duty of their Parents and those about them to relieve them: But Children must leave it to the Choice and Ordering of their Parents, what they think pro- 25 perest for them, and how much; and must not be permitted to chuse for themselves, and say, I would have Wine, or White-bread ; the very naming of it should make them lose it. § 107. That which Parents should take care of here, is 30 to distinguish between the Wants of Fancy, and those of Nature; which Horace has well taught them to do in this Verse: Craving. Quets humana sibi doleat natura negatis. Those are truly natural Wants, which Reason alone, 35 without some other Help, is not able to fence against, nor keep from disturbing us. The Pains of Sickness and Hurts, Hunger, Thirst, and Cold, Want of Sleep and Rest or Re- laxation of the Part weary'd with Labour, are what all Men feel, and the best dispos’d Minds cannot but be sensible of 40 their Uneasiness; and therefore ought, by fit Applications, to seek their Removal, though not with Impatience, or over § 107] Those that ask shall not have. 8s great Haste, upon the first Approaches of them, where delay does not threaten some irreparable Harm. The Pains that come from the Necessities of Nature, are Monitors to us to beware of greater Mischiefs, which they are the Forerunners of ; and therefore they must not be wholly neglected, nor 5 strain’d too far. But yet the more Children can be inur'd to Hardships of this Kind, by a wise Care to make them stronger in Body and Mind, the better it will be for them. I need not here give any Caution to keep within the Bounds of doing them good, and to take care. that what Children 10 are made to suffer, should neither break their Spirits, nor injure their Health, Parents being but too apt of them- selves to incline more than they should to the softer Side. But whatever Compliance the Necessities of Nature may require, the Wants of Fancy Children should never be 15 gratify’d in, nor suffered to mention. The very speaking for any such Thing should make them lose it. Clothes, when they need, they must have; but if they speek for this Stuff or that Colour, they should be sure to go without it. Not that IT would have Parents purposely cross the Desires of 20 their Children in Matters of Indifferency; on the contrary, where their Carriage deserves it, and one is sure it will not corrupt or effeminate their Minds, and make them fond of Trifles, I think all Things should be contriv’d, as much as could be, to their Satisfaction, that they may find the Ease 25 and Pleasure of doing well. The best for Children is that they should not place any Pleasure in such Things at all, nor regulate their Delight by their Fancies, but be indifferent to all that Nature has made so. This is what their Parents and Teachers should chiefly aim at; but till this be obtain’d, 30 all that I oppose here, is the Liberty of Asking, which in these Things of Conceit ought to be restrain’d by a constant Forfeiture annex’d to it. This may perhaps be thought a little too severe by the natural Indulgence of tender Parents; but yet it is no more 35 than necessary: For since the Method I propose is to banish the Rod, this Restraint of their Tongues will be of great Use to settle that Awe we have elsewhere spoken of, and to keep up in them the Respect and Reverence due to their Parents. Next, it will teach to keep in, and so master 40 their Inclinations. By this Means they will be brought to 86 Teaching of Self-restraint. [§ 107 learn the Art of stifling their Desires, as soon as they rise up in them, when they are easiest to be subdu’d. For giving Vent, gives Life and Strength to our Appetites ; and he that has the Confidence to turn his Wishes into Demands, will 5 be but a little Way from thinking he ought to obtain them. This, I am sure, every one can more easily bear a Denial from himself, than from any Body else. They should there- fore be accustom’d betimes to consult, and make Use of their Reason, before they give Allowance to their Inclina- 10 tions. Tis a great Step towards the Mastery of our Desires, to give this Stop to them, and shut them up in Silence. This Habit got by Children, of staying the Forwardness of their Fancies, and deliberating whether it be fit or no, before they speak, will be of no small Advantage to them 15 in Matters of greater Consequence, in the future Course of their Lives. For that which I cannot too often inculcate, is, that whatever the Matter be about which it is conversant, whether great or small, the main (I had almost said only) Thing to be considerd in every Action of a Child, is, what 20 Influence it will have upon his Mind ; what Habit it tends to, and is like to settle in him; how it will become him when he is bigger; and if it be encourag’d, whither it will lead him when he is grown up. My Meaning therefore is not, that Children should 25 purposely be made uneasy. This would relish too much of Inhumanity and ill Nature, and be apt to infect them with it. They should be brought to deny their Appetites ; and their Minds, as well as Bodies, be made vigorous, easy, and strong, by the Custom of having their Inclinations in 30 Subjection, and their Bodies exercis’d with Hardships: But all this, without giving them any Mark or Apprehension of ill Will towards them. The constant Loss of what they crav'd or carv'd to themselves, should teach them Modesty, Submission, and a Power to forbear: But the rewarding 35 their Modesty, and Silence, by giving them what they lik'd, should also assure them of the Love of those who rigorously exacted this Obedience. The contenting them selves now in the Want of what they wish’d for, is a Virtue that another Time should be rewarded with what is suited 40 and acceptable to them ; which should be bestow’d on them as if it were a natural Consequence of their good Behaviour, §§ 107, 108] Curiosity encouraged. Amusements. 87 and not a Bargain about it. But you will lose your Labour, and what is more, their Love and Reverence too, if they can receive from others what you deny them. This is to be kept very staunch, and carefully to be watch’d. And here the Servants come again in my Way. 5 § 108. If this be begun betimes, and they accustom themselves early to silence their Desires, this Se useful Habit will settle them; and as they “%%" come to grow up in Age and Discretion, they may be allow’d greater Liberty, when Reason comes to speak in 10 ’em, and not Passion : For whenever Reason would speak, it should be hearken’d to. But as they should never be heard, when they speak for any particular Thing they would have, unless it be first propos’d to them; so they should always be heard, and fairly and kindly answer’d, when they 15 ask after any Thing they would 4now, and desire to be inform’d about. Curiosity should be as carefully cherish d in Children, as other Appetites suppress’d. However strict an Hand is to be kept upon all Desires of Fancy, yet there is one Case wherein Fancy , . = 20 must be permitted to speak, and be hearken’d to also. Recreation is as necessary as Labour or Food. But because there can be no Recreation without Delight, which depends not always on Reason, but oftner on Fancy, it must be permitted Children not only to divert themselves, 25 but to do it after their own Fashion, provided it be inno- cently, and without Prejudice to their Health ; and therefore in this Case they should not be deny’d, if they proposed any particular kind of Recreation. Tho’ 1 think in a well- order'd Education, they will seldom be brought to the 30 Necessity of asking any such Liberty. Care should be taken, that what is of Advantage to them, they should always do with Delight; and before they are weary’d with one, they should be timely diverted to some other useful Employment. But if they are not yet brought to that 35 Degree of Perfection, that one Way of Improvement can be made a Recreation to them, they must be let loose to the childish Play they fancy; which they should be wean’d from by being made to surfeit of it: But from Things of Use, that they are employ’d in, they should always be 40 sent away with an Appetite; at least be dismiss’d before they 88 Free Recreations. Mutual Civility. [§§ 108, 109 are tird, and grow quite sick of it, that so they may return to it again, as to a Pleasure that diverts them. For you must never think them set right, till they can find Delight in the Practice of laudable Things; and the useful Exer- 5 cises of the Body and Mind, taking their Turns, make their Lives and Improvement pleasant in a continu’d Train of Recreations, wherein the weary’d Part is constantly reliev’d and refresh’d. Whether this can be done in every Temper, or whether Tutors and Parents will be at the Pains, and 10 have the Discretion and Patience to bring them to this, I know not; but that it may be done in most Children, if a right Course be taken to raise in them the Desire of Credit, Esteem, and Reputation, I do not at all doubt. And when they have so much true Life put into them, they t5 may freely be talk’d with about what most de/igZts them, and be directed or let loose to it; so that they may per- ceive that they are belov'd and cherish’d, and that those under whose Tuition they are, are not Enemies to their Satisfaction. Such a Management will make them in love 20 with the Hand that directs them, and the Virtue they are directed to. This farther Advantage may be made by a free Liberty permitted them in their Recreations, that it will discover their natural Tempers, shew their In- 25 clinations and Aptitudes, and thereby direct wise Parents in the Choice both of the Course of Life and Employ- ment they shall design them for, and of fit Remedies, in the mean time, to. be apply’d to whatever Bent of Nature they may observe most likely to mislead any of their 30 Children. § 109. 2. Children who live together, often strive for Mastery, whose Wills shall carry it over the rest: Whoever begins the Contest, should be sure to be cross’d in it. But not only that, but they should be taught to have all the 35 Deference, Complaisance, and Civility one for the other imagin- able. This, when they see it procures them Respect, Love and Esteem, and that they lose no Superiority by it, they will take more Pleasure in, than in insolent Domineering ; for so plainly is the other. 40 The Accusations of Children one against another, which usually are but the Clamours of Anger and Revenge de- Complaints. §$ 109,110] No tale-bearing. Reward Liberality. 89 siring Aid, should not be favourably received, nor hearken’d to. It weakens and effeminates their Minds to suffer them to complain ; and if they endure sometimes crossing or Pain from others without being permitted to think it strange or intolerable, it will do them no harm to learn sufferance, and harden them early. But though you give no Countenance to the Complaints of the Querulous, yet take Care to curb the Insolence and ill Nature of the Injurious. When you observe it your self, reprove it before the injur'd Party: But if the Complaint be of something really worth your Notice, and Prevention another time, then reprove the Offender by himself alone, out of sight of him that com- plain’d, and make him go and ask Pardon, and make Repa- ration : Which coming thus, as it were from himself, will be the more chearfully performed, and more kindly receiv’d, the Love strengthen’d between them, and a Custom of Civility grow familiar amongst your Children. § 110. 3. As to the having and possessing of Things, teach them to part with what they have, easily and freely to their Friends, and let them find by Experience that the most Zberal has always the most Plenty, with Esteem and Commendation to boot, and they will quickly learn to practise it. This I imagine, will make Brothers and Sisters kinder and civiller to one another, and consequently to others, than twenty Rules about good Manners, with which Children are ordinarily perplex’d and cumberd. Covetousness, and the Desire of having in our Possession, and under our Dominion, more than we have need of, being the Root of all Evil, should be early and carefully weeded out, and the contrary Quality of a Readi- ness to impart to others, implanted. This should be en- courag’d by great Commendation and Credit, and con- stantly taking care that he loses nothing by his Liberality. Let all the Instances he gives of such Freeness be always Liberality. 15 20 30 7 repay’d, and with Interest; and let him sensibly perceive, 35 that the Kindness he shews to others, is no ill Husbandry for himself; but that it brings a Return of Kindness both from those that receive it, and those who look on. Make this a Contest among Children, who shall out-do one another this Way: And by this Means, by a constant Prac- 40. tice, Children having made it easy to themselves to part 90 Education in Justice. [§ 110 with what they have, good Nature may be settled in them into an Habit, and they may take Pleasure, and pique themselves in being 4nd, liberal and civil, to others. If Liberality ought to be encourag’d, certainly great Care 5 on is to be taken that Children transgress not the "Rules of Fustice: And whenever they do, they should be set right, and if there be Occasion for it, severely rebuk’d. Our first Actions being guided more by Self-love than 10 Reason or Reflection, ’tis no wonder that in Children they should be very apt to deviate from the just Measures of Right and Wrong; which are in the Mind the Result of improv’d Reason and serious Meditation. This the more they are apt to mistake, the more careful Guard ought to be 15 kept over them ; and every the least Slip in this great social Virtue taken notice of, and rectify’d ; and that in Things of the least Weight and Moment, both to instruct their Ig- norance, and prevent ill Habits; which from small Begin- nings in Pins and Cherry-stones, will, if let alone, grow up 20 to higher Frauds, and be in Danger to end at last in down- right harden’d Dishonesty. The first Tendency to any /z- justice that appears, must be suppress’d with a shew of Wonder and Abhorrence in the Parents and Governors. But because Children cannot well comprehend what Zzjustice 25 is, till they understand Property, and how particular Persons come by it, the safest Way to secure Honesty, is to lay the Foundations of it early in Liberality, and an Easiness to part with to others whatever they have or like themselves. This may be taught them early, before they have Language 30 and Understanding enough to form distinct Notions of Pro- perty, and to know what is theirs by a peculiar Right ex- clusive of others. And since Children seldom have any thing but by Gift, and that for the most part from their Parents, they may be at first taught not to take or keep 35 any Thing but what is given them by those, whom they take to have Power over it. And as their Capacities enlarge, other Rules and Cases of Fustice, and Rights concerning Meum and Tuum, may be propos’d and inculcated. If any Act of Injustice in them appears to proceed, not from Mis- o take, but a Perverseness in their Wills, when a gentle Re- buke and Shame will not reform this irregular and covetous §§ 110—112] Crying. : 91 Inclination, rougher Remedies must be apply’d: And ’tis but for the Father or Tutor to take and keep from them something that they value and think their own, or order somebody else to do it; and by such Instances, make them sensible what little Advantage they are like to make by 5 possessing themselves unjustly of what is another’s, whilst there are in the World stronger and more Men than they. But if an ingenuous Detestation of this shameful Vice be but carefully and early instill’d into ’em, as I think it may, that is the true and genuine Method to obviate this Crime, 10 and will be a better Guard against D#s/onesty than any Con- siderations drawn from Interest ; Habits working more con- stantly, and with greater Facility, than Reason, which, when we have most need of it, is seldom fairly consulted, and more rarely obey’d. I5 § 111. Crying is a Fault that should not be tolerated in Children ; not only for the unpleasant and un- : becoming Noise it fills the House with, but for ~¢7”# more considerable Reasons, in Reference to the Children themselves ; which is to be our Aim in Education. 20 Their Crying is of two Sorts; either stubborn and domi- neering, or querulous and whining. 1. Their Crying is very often a striving for Mastery, and an open Declaration of their Insolence or Obstinacy; when they have not the Power to obtain their Desire, they 25 will, by their Clamour and Sobbing, maintain their Title and Right to it. This is an avow’d continuing their Claim, and a sort of Remonstrance against the Oppression and Injustice of those who deny them what they have a mind to. § 112. 2. Sometimes their Crying is the effect of Pain, 30 or true Sorrow, and a Bemoaning themselves under it. These two, if carefully observ’d, may, by the Mien, Looks, Actions, and particularly by the Tone of their Crying, be easily distinguished ; but neither of them must be suffer’d, much less encourag’d. 35 1. The obstinate or stomachful Crying should by no means be permitted, because it is but another way of flattering their Desires, and encouraging those Passions which ’tis our main Business to subdue: And if it be as often it is, upon the receiving any Correction, it quite 40 defeats all the good Effects of it; for any Chastisement 92 Stomachful Crying. [§§ 112, 113 which leaves them in this declar’d Opposition, only serves to make them worse. The Restraints and Punishments laid on Children are all misapply’d and lost, as far as they do not prevail over their Wills, teach them to submit their 5 Passions, and make their Minds supple and pliant to what their Parents’ Reason advises them now, and so prepare them to obey what their own Reason shall advise hereafter. But if in any Thing wherein they are cross’d, they may be suffer’d to go away crying, they confirm themselves in their 10 Desires, and cherish the ill Humour, with a Declaration of their Right, and a Resolution to satisfy their Inclination the first Opportunity. This therefore is another Argument against the frequent Use of Blows: For, whenever you come to that Extremity, ’tis not enough to whip or beat 15 them, you must do it, till you find you have subdu’d their Minds, till with Submission and Patience they yield to the Correction ; which you shall best discover by their Crying, and their ceasing from it upon your Bidding. Without this, the beating of Children is but a passionate Tyranny 20 over them ; and it is mere Cruelty, and not Correction, to put their Bodies in Pain, without doing their Minds any Good. As this gives us a Reason why Children should seldom be corrected, so it also prevents their being so. For if, whenever they are chastis’d, it were done thus with- 25 out Passion, soberly, and yet effectually too, laying on the Blows and Smart not furiously, and all at once, but slowly, with Reasoning between, and with Observation how it wrought, stopping when it had made them pliant, penitent and yielding; they would seldom need the like Punishment 30 again, being made careful to avoid the Fault that deserv’d it. Besides, by this Means, as the Punishment would not be lost for being too little, and not effectual, so it would be kept from being too much, if we gave off as soon as we perceiv'd that it reach’d the Mind, and that was better’d. 35 For since the Chiding or Beating of Children should be always the least that possibly may be, that which is laid on in the Heat of Anger, seldom observes that Measure, but is commonly more than it should be, though it prove ess than enough. ; 40 § 113. 2. Many children are apt to ¢zp, upon any little Pain they suffer, and the least Harm that befals them §§ 113, 114] Stop Whining. 93 puts them into Complaints and Bawling. This few Chil- dren avoid: For it being the first and natural Way to de- clare their Sufferings or Wants, before they can speak, the Compassion that is thought due to that tender Age foolishly encourages, and continues it in them long after they can 5 speak. ‘Tis the Duty, I confess, of those about Children, to compassionate them, whenever they suffer any Hurt; but not to shew it in pitying them. Help and ease them the best you can, but by no means bemoan them. This softens their Minds, and makes them yield to the little 10 Harms that happen to them; whereby they sink deeper into that Part which alone feels, and makes larger Wounds there, than otherwise they would. They should be har- den’d against all Sufferings, especially of the Body, and have no Tenderness but what rises from an ingenuous I5 Shame, and a quick Sense of Reputation. The many In- conveniences this Life is expos’d to, require we should not be too sensible of every little Hurt. What our Minds yield not to, makes but a slight Impression, and does us but very little Harm. ’Tis the suffering of our Spirits that 20 gives and continues the Pain. This Brawniness and In- ° sensibility of Mind, is the best Armour we can have against the common Evils and Accidents of Life; and being a Temper that is to be got by Exercise and Custom, more than any other way, the Practice of it should be begun 25 betimes; and happy is he that is taught it early. That Effeminacy of Spirit, which is to be prevented or cured, as nothing that I know so much increases in Children as Crying; so nothing, on the other Side, so much checks and restrains, as their being hinder'd from that sort of 30 complaining. In the little Harms they suffer from Knocks and Falls, they should not be pitied for falling, but bid do so again; which besides that it stops their Crying, is a better Way to cure their Heedlessness, and prevent their tumbling another Time, than either chiding or bemoaning 35 them. But, let the Hurts they receive be what they will, stop their Crying, and that will give them more Quiet and Ease at present, and harden them for the future. § 114. The former sort of Crying requires Severity to silence it; and where a Look, or a positive Command will 40 not do it, Blows must: For it proceeding from Pride, Obsti- 94 Cases of Fool-hardiness. [§§ 114, 115 nacy, and Stomach, the Will, where the Fault lies, must be bent, and made to comply, by a Rigour sufficient to master it. But this latter being ordinarily from Softness of Mind, a quite contrary Cause, ought to be treated with a gentler 5 Hand. Persuasion, or diverting the Thoughts another Way, or Laughing at their Whining, may perhaps be at first the proper Method: But for this, the Circumstances of the Thing, and the particular Temper of the Child, must be considered. No certain unvariable Rules can be given 10 about it; but it must be left to the Prudence of the Parents or Tutor. But this, I think, I may say in general, that there should be a constant discountenancing of this sort of Crying also; and that the Father, by his Authority, should always stop it, mixing a greater Degree of Roughness in his Looks 15 or Words, proportionably as the Child is of a greater Age, or a sturdier Temper: But always let it be enough to silence their Whimpering, and put an end to the Disorder. ~— § 115. Cowardice and Courage are so nearly related to the foremention’d Tempers, that it may not be 20 foolhardi- amiss here to take Notice of them. Fear is a Passion that, if rightly governed, has its Use. And though Selflove seldom fails to keep it watchful and high enough in us, yet there may be an Excess on the daring Side; ZFvol-lardiness and Insensibility of Danger 25 being as little reasonable, as trembling and shrinking at the Approach of every little Evil. Fear was given us as Monitor to quicken our Industry, and keep us upon ou Guard against the Approaches of Evil; and therefore to have no Apprehension of Mischief at Hand, not to make a 30 just Estimate of the Danger, but heedlessly to run into it, be the Hazard what it will, without considering of what Use or Consequence it may be, is not the Resolution of a rational Creature, but brutish Fury. Those who have Children of this Temper, have nothing to do, but a little to 35 awaken their Reason, which Self-preservation will quickly dispose them to hearken to, unless (which is usually the Case) some other Passion hurries them on head-long, with- out Sense and without Consideration. A Dislike of Evil is so natural to Mankind, that no body, I think, can be with- 40 out Fear of it: Fear being nothing but an Uneasiness under the Apprehension of that coming upon us, which we dislike. § 115] True Courage. 95 And therefore, whenever any one runs into Danger, we may say, ’tis under the Conduct of Ignorance, or the Command of some more imperious Passion, no body being so much an Enemy to himself, as to come within the Reach of Evil, out of free Choice, and court Danger for Danger’s sake. If it 5 be therefore Pride, Vain-glory, or Rage, that silences a Child’s Fear, or makes him not hearken to its Advice, those are by fit Means to be abated, that a little Consideration may allay his Heat, and make him bethink himself, whether this Attempt be worth the Venture. But this being a Fault 10 that Children are not so often guilty of, I shall not be more particular in its Cure. Weakness of Spirit is the more com- mon Defect, and therefore will require the greater Care. Fortitude is the Guard and Support of the other Virtues; and without Courage a Man will scarce keep steady to his Duty, and fill up the Character of a truly worthy Man. Courage, that makes us bear up against Dangers that we fear and Evils that we feel, is of great Use in an Estate, as ours is in this Life, exposd to "7%" zo Assaults on all hands: And therefore it is very advisable to get Children into this Armour as early as we can. Natural Temper, I confess, does here a great deal: But even where that is defective, and the Heart is in it self weak and timor- ous, it may, by a right Management, be brought to a better 25 Resolution. What is to be done to prevent breaking Child- ren’s Spirits by frightful Apprehensions instill'd into them when young, or bemoaning themselves under every little Suffering, I have already taken notice; how to harden their Tempers, and raise their Courage, if we find them too much subject to 30 Fear, is farther to be consider’d. True Fortitude, I take to be the quiet Possession of a Man’s self, and an undisturb’d doing his Duty, whatever Evil besets, or Danger lies in his Way. This there are so few Men attain to, that we are not to expect it from Chil- 35 dren. But yet something may be done: And a wise Conduct by insensible Degrees may carry them farther than one expects. The neglect of this great Care of them, whilst they are young, is the Reason, perhaps, why there are so few that 40 have this Virtue in its full Latitude when they are Men. ; 15 Fortitude. 96 Cowardice due to Education. [S113 I should not say this in a Nation so naturally brave, as ours is, did I think that true Fortitude required nothing but Courage in the Field, and a Contempt of Life in the Face .of an Enemy. This, I confess, is not the least part of it, 5 nor can be denied the Laurels and Honours always justly due to the Valour of those who venture their Lives for their Country. But yet this is not all. Dangers attack us in other Places besides the Field of Battle; and though Death be the King of Terrors, yet Pain, Disgrace and Poverty, ro have frightful Looks, able to discompose most Men whom they seem ready to seize on: And there are those who con- temn some of these, and yet are heartily frighted with the other. True Fortitude is prepar’d for Dangers of all kinds, and unmoved, whatsoever Evil it be that threatens. I do 15 not mean unmoved with any Fear at all. Where Danger shews it self, Apprehension cannot, without Stupidity, be wanting: Where Danger is, Sense of Danger should be; and so much Fear as should keep us awake, and excite our Atten- tion, Industry, and Vigour; but not disturb the calm Use of 20 our Reason, nor hinder the Execution of what that dictates. The first Step to get this noble and manly Steadiness, is, ain, what I have above mentioned, carefully to keep @7@ Children from Frights of all kinds, when they are young. Let not any fearful Apprehensions be talk’d 25 into them, nor terrible Objects surprize them. This often so shatters and discomposes the Spirits, that they never re- cover it again; but during their whole Life, upon the first Suggestion or Appearance of any terrifying Idea, are scat- ter’d and confounded ; the Body is enervated, and the Mind 30 disturb’d, and the Man scarce himself, or capable of any composed or rational Action. Whether this be from an habitual Motion of the animal Spirits, introduc’d by the first strong Impression, or from the Alteration of the Constitution by some more unaccountable way, this is certain, that so it 35 is. Instances of such who in a weak timorous Mind, have borne, all their whole Lives through, the Effects of a Fright when they were young, are every where to be seen, and there- fore as much as may be to be prevented. The next thing is by gentle Degrees to accustom 40 Children to those things they are too much afraid of. But here great Caution is to be used, that you do not make too § 115] : What is Fear? 97 much Haste, nor attempt this Cure too early, for fear lest you increase the Mischief instead of remedying it. Little ones in Arms may be easily kept out of the way of terrifying Objects, and till they can talk and understand what is said to them, are scarce capable of that Reasoning and Dis- 5 course which should be used to let them know there is no harm in those frightful Objects, which we would make them familiar with, and do, to that Purpose by gentle Degrees bring nearer and nearer to them. And therefore ’tis seldom there is need of any Application to them of this kind, till 10 after they can run about and talk. But yet, if it should happen that Infants should have taken Offence at any thing which cannot be easily kept out of their way, and that they shew Marks of Terror as often as it comes in sight; all the Allays of Fright, by diverting their Thoughts, or mixing 15 pleasant and agreeable Appearances with it, must be used, till it be grown familiar and inoffensive to them. J I think we may observe, That, when Children are first born, all Objects of Sight that do not hurt the Eyes, are indifferent to them; and they are no more afraid of a 20 Blackamoor or a Lion, than of their Nurse or a Cat. What is it then, that afterwards, in certain Mixtures of Shape and Colour, comes to affright them? Nothing but the Appre- hensions of Harm that accompanies those things. Did a Child suck every Day a new Nurse, I make account it 25 would be no more affrighted with the change of Faces at six Months old, than at sixty. The Reason then why it will not come to a Stranger, is, because having been accustomed to receive its Food and kind Usage only from one or two that are about it, the Child apprehends, by coming into the 30 Arms of a Stranger, the being taken from what delights and feeds it and every Moment supplies its Wants, which it often feels, and therefore fears when the Nurse is away. The only thing we naturally are afraid of is Pain, or Loss of Pleasure. And because these are ,, === 35 not annexed to any Shape, Colour, or Size of : visible Objects, we are frighted with none of them, till either we have felt Pain from them, or have Notions put into us that they will do us Harm. The pleasant Brightness and Lustre of Flame and Fire so delights Children, that at first 40 they always desire to be handling of it: But when constant Q 7 98 Education to Courage. [§ 115 Experience has convinced them, by the exquisite Pain it has put them to, how cruel and unmerciful it is, they are afraid to touch it, and carefully avoid it. This being the Ground of Fear, ’tis not hard to find whence it arises, and 5 how it is to be cured in all mistaken Objects of Terror. And when the Mind is confirm’d against them, and has got a Mastery over it self and its usual Fears in lighter Occa- sions, it is in good Preparation to meet more real Dangers. Your Child shrieks, and runs away at the Sight of a Frog; 10 let another catch it, and lay it down at a good Distance from him: At first accustom him to look upon it; when he can do that, then to come nearer to it, and see it leap with- out Emotion; then to touch it lightly, when it is held fast in another's Hand; and so on, till he can come to handle it 15 as confidently as a Butterfly or a Sparrow. By the same way any other vain Terrors may be remov'd; if care be taken, that you go not too fast, and push not the Child on to a new Degree of Assurance, till he be thoroughly confirm’d in the former. And thus the young Soldier is to be train’d 20 on to the Warfare of Life; wherein Care is to be taken, that more things be not represented as dangerous than really are so; and then, that whatever you observe him to be more frighted at than he should, you be sure to tole him on to by insensible Degrees, till he at last, quitting his 25 Fears, masters the Difficulty, and comes off with Applause. Successes of this Kind, often repeated, will make him find, that Evils are not always so certain or so great as our Fears represent them; and that the way to avoid them, is not to run away, or be discompos’d, dejected, and deterr’d 30 by Fear, where either our Credit or Duty requires us to o on. 3 But since the great Foundation of Fear in Children is Pain, the way to harden and fortify Children against Fear and Danger is to accustom them 35 to suffer Pain. This ’tis possible will be thought, by kind Parents, a very unnatural thing towards their Children; and by most, unreasonable, to endeavour to reconcile any one to the Sense of Pain, by bringing it upon him. Twill be said : ¢It may perhaps give the Child an Aversion for him that 40 makes him suffer; but can never recommend to him Suf- fering itself. This is a strange Method. You will not Hardiness. § 115] Hardening by voluntary Pain. 99 have Children whipp’d and punish’d for their Faults, but you would have them tormented for doing well, or for tormenting sake.” I doubt not but such Objections as these will be made, and I shall be thought inconsistent with my self, or fantastical, in proposing it. I confess, it is a thing 5 to be managed with great Discretion, and therefore it falls not out amiss, that it will not be receiv’d or relish’d, but by those who consider well, and look into the Reason of Things. I would not have Children much beaten for their Faults, because I would not have them think bodily Pain the 10 greatest Punishment: And I would have them, when they do well, be sometimes put in Pain, for the same Reason, that they might be accustom’d to bear it, without looking on it as the greatest Evi. How much Education may reconcile young People to Pain and Sufferance, the Examples of 15 Sparta do sufficiently shew: And they who have once brought themselves not to think bodily Pain the greatest of Evils, or that which they ought to stand most in fear of, have made no small Advance towards Virtue. But I am not so foolish to propose the Zacedemonian Discipline in our 20 Age or Constitution. But yet I do say, that inuring Chil- dren gently to suffer some Degrees of Pain without shrink- ing, is a way to gain Firmness to their Minds, and lay a Foundation for Courage and Resolution in the future Part of their Lives. 25 Not to bemoan them, or permit them to bemoan them- selves, on every little Pain they suffer, is the first Step to be made. But of this I have spoken elsewhere. The next thing is, sometimes designedly to put them in Pain: But care must be taken that this be done when the 30 Child is in good Humour, and satisfied of the Good-will and Kindness of him that hurts him, at the time that he does it. There must no Marks of Anger or Displeasure on the one side, nor Compassion or Repenting on the other, go along with it : And it must be sure to be no more than the Child 35 can bear without repining or taking it amiss, or for a Pun- ishment. Managed by these Degrees, and with such Cir- cumstances, I have seen a Child run away laughing with good smart Blows of a Wand on his Back, who would have cried for an unkind Word, and have been very sensible of the 40 Chastisement of a cold Look, from the same Person. Satisfy Wee) 100 How Courage may be trained. [§ 115, 116 a Child by a constant Course of your Care and Kindness, that you perfectly love him, and he may by Degrees be accustom’d to bear very painful and rough Usage from you, without flinching or complaining: And this we see Children 5 do every Day in play one with another. The softer you find your Child is, the more you are to seek Occasions, at fit times, thus to harden him. The great Art in this is, to begin with what is but very little painful, and to proceed by insensible Degrees, when you are playing, and in good 10 Humour with him, and speaking well of him: And when you have once got him to think himself made amends for his Suffering by the Praise is given him for his Courage; when he can take a Pride in giving such Marks of his Manliness, and can prefer the Reputation of being Brave and Stout, to 15 the avoiding a little Pain, or the Shrinking under it; you need not despair in time and by the Assistance of his grow- ing Reason, to master his Timorousness, and mend the Weakness of his Constitution. As he grows bigger, he is to be set upon bolder Attempts than his natural Temper 20 carries him to; and whenever he is observ’d to flinch from what one has reason to think he would come off well in, if he had but Courage to undertake, #2af he should be assisted in at first, and by Degrees sham’d to, till at last Practice has given more Assurance, and with it a Mastery ; 25 which must be rewarded with great Praise, and the good Opinion of others, for his Performance. When by these Steps he has got Resolution enough not to be deterr'd from what he ought to do, by the Apprehension of Danger; when Fear does not, in sudden or hazardous Occurrences, dis- 30 compose his Mind, set his Body a-trembling, and make him unfit for Action, or run away from it, he has then the Courage of a rational Creature: And such an Hardiness we should endeavour by Custom and Use to bring Children to, == proper Occasions come in our way. — § 116. One thing I have Fy observ’d in Chil- dren, that when they have got Possession of any poor Creature, they are apt to use it ill: They often Zorment, and treat very roughly, young Birds, Butter- flies, and such other poor Animals which fall into their 40 Hands, and that with a seeming kind of Pleasure. This I think should be watched in them, and if they incline to Cruelty. § 116] Prevent Cruelty and Mischief.” © 101 any such Cruelty, they shouid'be taught the contrary Usage. For the Custom of tormenting nc Killing of Beasts; will, by Degrees, harden their Minds even towards Men; and they who delight in the Suffering and Destruction of inferior Creatures, will not be apt to be very compassionate or benign to those of their own kind. Our Practice takes notice of this in the Exclusion of Butchers from Juries of Life and Death. Children should from the beginning be bred up in an Abhorrence of 4i//ing or tormenting any living Creature ; and be taught not to spoz/ or destroy any thing, unless it be for the Preservation or Advantage of some other that is nobler. And truly, if the Preservation of all Mankind, as much as in him lies, were every one’s Persuasion, as indeed it is every one’s Duty, and the true Principle to regulate our Religion, Politicks and Morality by, the World would be much quieter, and better natur’d than it is. But to return to our present Business; I cannot but commend both the Kindness and Prudence of a Mother I knew, who was wont always to indulge her Daughters, when any of them desired Dogs, Squirrels, Birds, or any such things as young Girls use to be delighted with: But then, when they had them, they must be sure to keep them well, and look diligently after them, that they wanted nothing, or were not ill used. For if they were negligent in their Care of them, it was counted a great Fauit, which often forfeited their Possession, or at least they fail’d not to be rebuked for it ; whereby they were early taught Diligence and good Nature. And indeed, I think People should be accustomed, from their Cradles, to be tender to all sensible Creatures, and to spoil or waste nothing at all. This Delight they take in doing of Mischief, whereby I mean spoiling of any thing to no purpose, but more especially the Pleasure they take to put any thing in Pain, that is capable of it; I cannot persuade my self to be any other than a foreign and introduced Disposition, an Habit borrowed from Custom and Conversation. People teach Children to strike, and laugh when they hurt or see Harm come to others: And they have the Examples of most about them, to confirm them in it. All the Entertainment and Talk of History is of nothing almost but Fighting and Killing : And the Honour and Renown that is bestowed 30 35 40 102 Cruclty not from Nature but Habit. [§§116,117 on, Cogauerors (wh for the most part are but the great Butcnérs of Mankind) farther 1nislead growing Youth, who by this means come to think Slaughter the laudable Busi- ness of Mankind, and the most heroick of Virtues. By 5 these Steps unnatural Cruelty is planted in us; and what Humanity abhors, Custom reconciles and recommends to us, by laying it in the way to Honour. Thus, by Fashion and Opinion, that comes to be a Pleasure, which in it self neither is, nor can be any. This ought carefully to be 10 watched, and early remedied; so as to settle and cherish the contrary and more natural Temper of Benignity and Compassion 1n the room of it; but still by the same gentle Methods which are to be applied to the other two Faults beforemention’d. It may not perhaps be unreasonable here 15 to add this farther Caution, ziz, That the Mischiefs or Harms that come by Play, Inadvertency, or Ignorance, and were not known to be Harms, or design’d for Mischief’s sake, though they may perhaps be sometimes of consider- able Damage, yet are not at all, or but very gently, to be 20 taken notice of. For this, I think, I cannot too often inculcate, That whatever Miscarriage a Child is guilty of, and whatever be the Consequence of it, the thing to be regarded in taking Notice of it, is only what Root it springs from, and what Habit it is like to establish: And to that 25 the Correction ought to be directed, and the Child not to suffer any Punishment for any Harm which may have come by his Play or Inadvertency. The faults to be amended lie in the Mind ; and if they are such as either Age will cure, or no ill Habits will follow from, the present Action, what- 30 ever displeasing Circumstances it may have, is to be passed by without any Animadversion. § 117. Another way to instill Sentiments of Humanity, and to keep them lively in young Folks, will be, to accus- tom them to Civility in their Language and Deportment 35 towards their Inferiors and the meaner sort of People, particularly Servants. It is not unusual to observe the Children in Gentlemen’s Families treat the Servants of the House with domineering Words, Names of Contempt, and an imperious Carriage; as if they were of another Race 40 and Species beneath them. Whether ill Example, the Advantage of Fortune, or their natural Vanity, inspire this §§117,118] Manners to Servants. Curiosity again. 103 Haughtiness, it should be prevented, or weeded out; and a gentle, courteous, affable Carriage towards the lower Ranks of Men, placed in the room of it. No part of their Supe- riority will be hereby lost; but the Distinction increased, and their Authority strengthen’d; when Love in Inferiors 5 is join’d to outward Respect, and an Esteem of the Person has a Share in their Submission: And Domesticks will pay a more ready and chearful Service, when they find them- selves not spurn’d because Fortune has laid them below the Level of others at their Master’s Feet. Children should 10 not be suffer’d to lose the Consideration of human Nature in the Shufflings of outward Conditions. The more they have, the better humour’d they should be taught to be, and the more compassionate and gentle to those of their Breth- ren who are placed lower, and have scantier Portions. If 15 they are suffer'd from their Cradles to treat Men ill and rudely, because, by their Father's Title, they think they have a little Power over them, at best it is ill-bred; and if Care be not taken, will by Degrees nurse up their natural Pride into an habitual Contempt of those beneath them. 20 And where will that probably end but in Oppression and Cruelty ? § 118. Curiosity in Children (which I had Occasion just to mention § 108.) is but an Appetite after Knowledge ; and therefore ought to be encou- raged in them, not only as a good Sign, but as the great Instrument Nature has provided to remove that Ignorance they were born with ; and which, without this busy Znguiss- tiveness, will make them dull and useless Creatures. The ways to encourage it, and keep it active and busy, are, I 30 suppose, these following : 1. Not to check or discountenance any Enquiries he shall make, nor suffer them to be laugh’d at; but to answer all his Questions, and explain the Matter he desires to know, so as to make them as much intelligible to him as suits the 35 Capacity of his Age and Knowledge. But confound not his Understanding with Explications or Notions that are above it; or with the Variety or Number of things that are not to his present Purpose. Mark what ’tis his Mind aims at in the Question, and not what Words he expresses it in: 40 And when you have informed and satisfied him in that, you Curiosity. 25 104 Knowledge a Pleasure. [§§ r18—r1zo shall see how his Thoughts will enlarge themselves, and how by fit Answers he may be led on farther than perhaps you could imagine. For Knowledge is grateful to the Understanding, as Light to the Eyes: Children are pleased 5 and delighted with it exceedingly, especially if they see that their Znguiries are regarded, and that their desire of Knowing is encouraged and commended. And I doubt not but one great Reason why many Children abandon themselves wholly to silly Sports, and trifle away all their 10 Time insipidly, is, because they have found their Curiosity baulk’d, and their Znguiries neglected. But had they been treated with more Kindness and Respect, and their Ques- Zions answered, as they should, to their Satisfaction; I doubt not but they would have taken more Pleasure in 15 Learning, and improving their Knowledge, wherein there would be still Newness and Variety, which is what they are delighted with, than in returning over and over to the same Play and Play-things. § 119. 2. To this serious answering their Questions, 20 and informing their Understandings, in what they desire, as if it were a Matter that needed it, should be added some peculiar Ways of Commendation. Let others whom they esteem, be told before their Faces of the Knowledge they have in such and such things; and since we are all, even 25 from our Cradles, vain and proud Creatures, let their Vanity be flatter’d with Things that will do them good; and let their Pride set them on work on something which may turn to their Advantage. Upon this Ground you shall find, that there cannot be a greater Spur to the attaining what you 30 would have the Eldest learn, and know himself, than to set him upon teaching it his younger Brothers and Sisters. § 120. 3. As Children’s Enquiries are not to be slighted ; so also great Care is to be taken, that they never receive deceitful and eluding Answers. They easily perceive 35 when they are slighted or deceived ; and quickly learn the Trick of Neglect, Dissimulation and Falshood, which they observe others to make use of. We are not to intrench upon Truth in any Conversation, but least of all with Children; since if we play false with them, we not only 40 deceive their Expectation, and hinder their Knowledge, but corrupt their Innocence, and teach them the worst of § 120] Children’s Questions. 105 Vices. They are Travellers newly arrived in a strange Country, of which they know nothing; we should there- fore make Conscience not to mislead them. And though their Questions seem sometimes not very material, yet they should be seriously answer'd: For however they may appear - 5 to us (to whom they are long since known) Znguiries not worth the making; they are of Moment to those who are wholly ignorant. Children are Strangers to all we are ac- quainted with; and all the things they meet with, are at first unknown to them, as they once were to us: And 10 happy are they who meet with civil People, that will com- ply with their Ignorance, and help them to get out of it. If you or I now should be set down in Japan, with all our Prudence and Knowledge about us, a Conceit whereof makes us, perhaps, so apt to slight the Thoughts 15 and Znguiries of Children ; should we, I say, be set down in Japan, we should, no doubt (if we would inform our selves of what is there to be known) ask a thousand Ques- tions, which, to a supercilious or inconsiderate Japaner, would seem very idle and impertinent ; though to us they would be very material and of Importance to be resolved; and we should be glad to find a Man so complaisant and courteous, as to satisfy our Demands, and instruct our Ignorance. o When any new thing comes in their way, Children 23 usually ask the common Question of a Stranger: What is it? Whereby they ordinarily mean nothing but the Name; and therefore to tell them how it is call’d, is usually the proper Answer to that Demand. And the next Question usually is, What is it for ? And to this it should be answered truly 30 and directly: The Use of the Thing should be told, and the way explained, how it serves to such a Purpose, as far as their Capacities can comprehend it. And so of any other Circumstances they shall ask about it; not turning them going, till you have given them all the Satisfaction they are 35 capable of; and so leading them by your Answers into farther Questions. And perhaps to a grown Man, such Conversation will not be altogether so idle and insignificant as we are apt to imagine. The native and untaught Sugges- tions of inquisitive Children do often offer things, that may 40 set a considering Man’s Thoughts on Work. And I think o nN 106 Children’s Reasoning. [§§ 120—123 there is frequently more to be learn’d from the unexpected Questions of a Child, than the Discourses of Men, who talk in a Road, according to the Notions they have borrowed, and the Prejudices of their Education. 5 § 121. 4. Perhaps it may not sometimes be amiss to excite their Curiosity by bringing strange and new things in their way, on purpose to engage their Enquiry, and give them Occasion to inform themselves about them: And if by chance their Curiosity leads them to ask what they should 10 not know, it is a great deal better to tell them plainly, that it is a thing that belongs not to them to know, than to pop them off with a Falshood or a frivolous Answer. § 122. Pertness, that appears sometimes so early, pro- ceeds from a Principle that seldom accompanies a strong 15 Constitution of Body, or ripens into a strong Judgment of Mind. If it were desirable to have a Child a more brisk Talker, I believe there might be ways found to make him so: But I suppose a wise Father had rather that his Son should be able and useful, when a Man, than pretty Com- 20 pany, and a Diversion to others, whilst a Child : Though if that too were to be consider’d, I think I may say, there is not so much Pleasure to have a Child prattle agreeably, as to reason well. Encourage therefore his /nguisitiveness all you can, by satisfying his Demands, and informing his Judg- 25 ment, as far as it is capable. When his Reasons are any way tolerable, let him find the Credit and Commendation of it: And when they are quite out of the way, let him, with- out being laugh’d at for his Mistake, be gently put into the right; and if he shew a Forwardness to be reasoning about 30 Things that come in his way, take care, as much as you can, that no body check this Inclination in him, or mislead it by captious or fallacious ways of talking with him. For when all is done, this, as the highest and most important Faculty of our Minds, deserves the greatest Care and Attention in 35 cultivating it: The right Improvement, and Exercise of our Reason being the highest Perfection that a Man can attain to ip, this Life. iy 123. Contrary to this busy inquisitive Temper, there _ 1s sometimes observable in Children, a Zs#less 40 SUMTE Cayelessness, a want of Regard to any thing, and a sort of #ifling even at their Business. This sauntring §§ 123, 124] Sauntering. 107 Humour I look on as one of the worst Qualities can appear in a Child, as well as one of the hardest to be cured, where it is natural. But it being liable to be mistaken in some Cases, Care must be taken to make a right Judgment con- cerning that #ffing at their Books or Business, which may 5 sometimes be complained of in a Child. Upon the first Suspicion a Father has, that his Son is of a sauntring Temper, he must carefully observe him, whether he be listless and indifferent in all in his Actions, or whether in some things alone he be slow and sluggish, but in others vigorous and eager. For tho’ we find that he does loiter at his Book, and let a good deal of the time he spends in his Chamber or Study, run idly away; he must not presently conclude, that this is from a sewntring Humour in his Temper. It may be childishness, and a preferring something 15 to his Study, which his Thoughts run on: And he dislikes his Book, as is natural, because it is forced upon him as a Task. To know this perfectly, you must watch him at Play, when he is out of his Place and Time of Study, following his own Inclinations ; and see there whether he be stirring and active; whether he designs any thing, and with Labour and Eagerness pursues it, till he has accomplished what he aimed at, or whether he /azily and Zistlesly dreams away his Zime. If this Sloth be only when he is about his Book, I think it may be easily cured. If it be in his Temper, it will require a little more Pains and Attention to remedy it. § 124. If you are satisfied by his Earnestness at play, or any thing else he sets his Mind on, in the Intervals be- tween his Hours of Business, that he is not of himself in- clined to Laziness, but that only want of Relish of his Book 30 makes him negligent and sluggis/ in his Application to it; the first Step is to try by talking to him kindly of the Folly and Inconvenience of it, whereby he loses a good Part of his Time, which he might have for his Diversion: But be sure to talk calmly and kindly, and not much at first, but 3g only these plain Reasons in short. If this prevails, you have gain’d the Point in the most desirable Way, which is that of Reason and Kindness. If this softer Application prevails not, try to shame him out of it, by laughing at him for it, asking every Day, when he comes to Table, if there 40 be no Strangers there, How long he was that Day about his Lal Oo 108 How to deal with Listlessness. [§§ 124, 125 Business: And if he has not done it in the time he might be well supposed to have dispatched it, expose and turn him into ridicule for it; but mix no chiding, only put on a pretty cold Brow towards him, and keep it till he reform; 5 and let his Mother, Tutor, and all about him do so too. If this work not the Effect you desire, then tell him he shall be no longer troubled with a Tutor to take Care of his Edu- cation, you will not be at the Charge to have him spend his Time idly with him; but since he prefers This or That 10 [whatever Play he delights in] to his Book, that only he shall do; and so in earnest set him to work on his beloved Play, and keep him steadily, and in earnest, to if Morning and Afternoon, till he be fully surfeited, and would, at any rate, change it for some Hours at his Book again. But 15 when you thus set him his Task of Play, you must be sure to look after him your self, or set some Body else to do it, that may constantly see him employed in it, and that he be not permitted to be idle at that too. I say, your self look after him; for it is worth the Father’s while, whatever Busi- 20 ness he has, to bestow two or three Days upon his Son, to cure so great a Mischief as his seuntring at his Business. § 125. This is what I propose, if it be Zdleness, not from his general Temper, but a peculiar or acquir'd Aver- sion to Learning, which you must be careful to examine and 25 distinguish. But though you have your Eyes upon him, to watch what he does with the Time which he has at his own Disposal, yet you must not let him perceive that you or any body else do so; for that may hinder him from following his own Inclination, which he being full of, and not daring, 30 for fear of you, to prosecute what his Head and Heart are set upon, he may neglect all other Things, which then he relishes not, and so may seem to be idle and listless, when in Truth it is nothing but being intent on that, which the fear of your Eye or Knowledge keeps him from executing. 35 To be clear in this Point, the Observation must be made when you are out of the way, and he not so much as under the Restraint of a Suspicion that any body has an Eye upon him. In those Seasons of perfect Freedom, let some body you can trust mark how he spends his Time, whether he 40 unactively loiters it away, when without any Check he is left to his own Inclination. Thus, by his Employing of such §§ 125—127] Implant desire or give Hand-work. 109 Times of Liberty, you will easily discern, whether it be Listlessness in his Temper, or Aversion to his Book, that ‘makes him saunter away his Time of Study. § 126. If some Defect in his Constitution has cast a Damp on his Mind, and he be naturally listless and dream- 5 ing, this unpromising Disposition is none of the easiest to be dealt with, because, generally carrying with it an Unconcernedness for the future, it wants the two great Springs of Action, Foresight and Desire; which how to plant and increase, where Nature has given a cold and 10 contrary Temper, will be the Question. As soon as you are satisfied that this is the Case, you must carefully enquire whether there be nothing he delights in: Inform your self what it is he is most pleased with; and if you can find any particular Tendency his Mind hath, increase it all you 15 can, and make use of that to set him on Work, and to excite his Industry. If he loves Praise, or Play, or fine Clothes, &c. or, on the other Side, dreads Pain, Disgrace, or your Displeasure, &c. whatever it be that he loves most, except it be Sloth (for that will never set him on Work) let that 20. be made use of to quicken him, and make him bestir him- self. For in this Zistless Temper, you are not to fear an Excess of Appetite (as in all other Cases) by cherishing it. "Tis that which you want, and therefore must labour to raise and increase ; for where there is no Desire, there will 25 be no Industry. § 127. If you have not Hold enough upon him thi Way, to stir up Vigour and Activity in him, you must em- ploy him in some constant bodily Labour, whereby he may get an Habit of doing something. The keeping him hard to some Study were the better Way to get him an Habit of exercising and applying his Mind. But because this is an invisible Attention, and no body can tell when he is or is not idle at it, you must find bodily Employments for him, which he must be constantly busied in, and kept 35 to; and if they have some little Hardship and Shame in them, it may not be the worse, that they may the sooner weary him, and make him desire to return to his Book. But be sure, when you exchange his Book for his other Labour, set him such a Task, to be done in such a Time 40 as may allow him no Opportunity to be idle. Only after 110 Set Tasks of Play. [§§ 127—129 you have by this Way brought him to be attentive and in- dustrious at his Book, you may, upon his dispatching his Study within the Time set him, give him as a Reward some Respite from his other Labour; which you may 5 diminish as you find him grow more and more steady in his Application, and at last wholly take off when his sauntring at his Book is cured. § 128. We formerly observed, that Variety and Free- dom was That that delighted Children, and recommended their Plays to them; and .that therefore their Book, or any Thing we would have them learn, should not be enjoined them as Business. This their Parents, Tutors, and Teachers are apt to forget; and their Impatience to have them busied in what is fit for them 15 to do, suffers them not to deceive them into it: But by the repeated Injunctions they meet with, Children quickly distinguish between what is required of them, and what not. When this Mistake has once made his Book uneasy to him, the Cure is to be applied at the other End. And since 20 it will be then too late to endeavour to make it a Play to him, you must take the contrary Course : Observe what Play he is most delighted with; enjoin that, and make him play so many Hours every Day, not as a Punishment for playing, but as if it were the Business required of him. 25 This, if 1 mistake not, will in a few Days make him s weary of his most beloved Sport, that he will prefer h Book, or any Thing to it, especially if it may redeem hi from any Part of the Task of Play is set him, and he may be suffered to employ some Part of the Time destined 3oto his Zask of Play in his Book, or such other Exercise as is really useful to him. This I at least think a better Cure than that Forbidding, (which usually increases the Desire) or any other Punishment should be made use of to remedy it: For when you have once glutted his Ap- 35 petite (which may safely be done in all Things but eating and drinking) and made him surfeit of what you would have him avoid, you have put into him a Principle of Aversion, and you need not so much fear afterwards his longing for the same Thing again. > 10 Compulsion. 40 § 129. This I think is sufficiently evident, that Children generally hate to be idle. All the Care then is, that the § 129] Play or Work? III busy Humour should be constantly employ’d in something of Use to them ; which, if you will attain, you must make what you would have them do a Recreation to them, and not a Business. The Way to do this, so that they may not perceive you have any Hand in it, is this proposed § here; viz. To make them weary of that which you would not have them do, by enjoining and making them under some Pretence or other do it, till they are surfeited. For Example: Does your Son play at Top and Scourge too much? Enjoin him to play so many Hours every Day, 10 and look that he doit; and you shall see he will quickly be sick of it, and willing to leave it. By this Means making the Recreations you dislike a Business to him, he will of him- self with Delight betake himself to those Things you would ~ have him do, especially if they be proposed as Rewards 15 for having performed his Zasz in that Play which is com- manded him. For if he be ordered every Day to whip his Top so long as to make him sufficiently weary, do you not think he will apply himself with Eagerness to his Book, and wish for it, if you promise it him as a Reward of 20 having whipped his Top lustily, quite out all the Time that is set him? Children, in the Things they do, if they comport with their Age, find little Difference so they may be doing: The Esteem they have for one Thing above another they borrow from others; so that what those about 25 them make to be a Reward to them, will really be so. By this Art it is in their Governor's Choice, whether Scozc/- hoppers shall reward their Dancing, or Dancing their Scotch- hoppers ; whether Peg-Top, or Reading; playing at Trap, or studying the Globes, shall be more acceptable and 30 pleasing to them ; all that they desire being to be busy, and busy, as they imagine, in Things of their own Choice, and which they receive as Favours from their Parents or others for whom they have Respect and with whom they would be in Credit. A Set of Children thus ordered and 35 kept from the ill Example of others, would all of them, I suppose, with as much Earnestness and Delight, learn to read, write, and what else one would have them, as others do their ordinary Plays: And the eldest being thus entered, and this made the Fashion of the Place, 40 it would be as impossible to hinder them from learn- 112 Playthings. [§§ 129, 130 ing the one, as it is ordinarily to keep them from the other. § 130. Play-things, I think, Children should have, and of vers sorts ; but still to be in the Custody of their Tutors or some body else, whereof the Child should have in his Power but one at once, and should not be suffered to have another but when he re- stored that. This teaches them betimes to be careful of not losing or spoiling the Things they have ; whereas Plenty 10 and Variety in their own keeping, makes them wanton and careless, and teaches them from the Beginning to be Squan- derers and Wasters. These, I confess, are little Things, and such as will seem beneath the Care of a Governor ; but nothing that may form Children’s Minds is to be overlooked 15 and neglected, and whatsoever introduces Habits, and settles Customs in them, deserves the Care and Attention of their Governors, and is not a small Thing in its Consequences. One Thing more about Children’s Play-things may be worth their Parents’ Care. Though it be agreed they should 20 have of several Sorts, yet, I think, they should have none bought for them. This will hinder that great Variety they are often overcharged with, which serves only to teach _ the Mind to wander after Change and Superfluity, to be unquiet, and perpetually stretching itself after something 25 more still, though it knows not what, and never to be satisfied with what it hath. The Court that is made to People of Condition in such kind of Presents to their Children, does the little ones great harm. By it they are taught Pride, Vanity and Covetousness, almost before they 30 can speak : And I have known a young Child so distracted with the Number and Variety of his Play-games, that he tired his Maid every Day to look them over; and was so accustomed to Abundance, that he never thought he had enough, but was always asking, What more? What more? 35 What new Thing shall I have? A good Introduction to moderate Desires, and the ready Way to make a contented happy Man ! “ How then shall they have the Play-games you allow them, if none must be bought for them?” I answer, They 40 should make them themselves, or at least endeavour it, and set themselves about it; till then they should have none, and Play-Games. §§ 130, 131] Educational Use of Games. 113 till then they will want none of any great Artifice. A smooth Pebble, a Piece of Paper, the Mother's Bunch of Keys, or any Thing they cannot hurt themselves with, serves as much to divert little Children as those more chargeable and curious Toys from the Shops, which are presently put out of 35 order and broken. Children are never dull, or out of Humour, for want of such Play-things, unless they have been used to them; when they are little, whatever occurs serves the Turn; ‘and as they grow bigger, if they are not stored by the expensive Folly of others, they will make them themselves. 10 Indeed, when they once begin to set themselves to work about any of their Inventions, they should be taught and assisted ; but should have nothing whilst they lazily sit still, expecting to be furnish’d from other hands, without employ- ing their own. And if you help them where they are at a 15 Stand, it will more endear you to them than any chargeable Toys you shall buy for them. Play-things which are above their Skill to make, as Tops, Gigs, Battledores, and the like, which are to be used with Labour, should indeed be procured them. These ’tis convenient they should have, not for 20 Variety but Exercise; but these too should be given them as bare as might be. If they had a Top, the Scourge-stick and Leather-strap should be left to their own making and _ fitting. If they sit gaping to have such Things drop into their Mouths, they should go without them. This will 25 accustom them to seek for what they want, in themselves and in their own Endeavours; whereby they will be taught Moderation in their Desires, Application, Industry, Thought, Contrivance, and good Husbandry; Qualities that will be useful to them when they are Men, and therefore cannot be 30 learned too soon, nor fixed too deep. All the Plays and Diversions of Children should be directed towards good and useful Habits, or else they will introduce ill ones. Whatever they do, leaves some Impression on that tender Age, and from thence they receive a Tendency to Good or Evil: And 35 whatever hath such an Influence, ought not to be neg- lected. § 131. Lying is so ready and cheap a Cover for any Miscarriage, and so much in Fashion among all ol Sorts of People, that a Child can hardly avoid “7% 40 observing the use is made of it on all Occasions, and so can Q. 8 114 Lying and Excuses. [§§ 131, 132 scarce be kept without great Care from getting into it. But it is so ill a Quality, and the Mother of so many ill ones that spawn from it, and take shelter under it, that a Child should be brought up in the greatest Abhorrence of it 5 imaginable. It should be always (when occasionally it comes to be mention’d) spoke of before him with the utmost Detestation, as a Quality so wholly inconsistent with the Name and Character of a Gentleman, that no body of any Credit can bear the Imputation of a Lie; a Mark that is 10 judg’d the utmost Disgrace, which debases a Man to the lowest Degree of a shameful Meanness, and ranks him with the most contemptible Part of Mankind and the abhorred Rascality; and is not to be endured in any one who would converse with People of Condition, or have any Esteem or 15 Reputation in the World. The first Time he is found in a Lie, it should rather be wondered at as a monstrous Thing in him, than reproved as an ordinary Fault. If that keeps him not from relapsing, the next Time he must be sharply rebuked, and fall into the State of great Dis- 20 pleasure of his Father and Mother and all about him who take Notice of it. And if this Way work not the Cure, you must come to Blows; for after he has been thus warned, a premeditated Zzz must always be looked upon as Obstinacy, and never be permitted to escape un- 25 punished. mo 32. Children, afraid to have their Faults seen in Biss their naked Colours, will, like the rest of the * Sons of Adam, be apt to make Excuses. This is a Fault usually bordering upon, and leading to Untruth, 50 and is not to be indulged in them ; but yet it ought to be cured rather with Shame than Roughness. If therefore, when a Child is questioned for any Thing, his first Answer be an Zwxcuse, warn him soberly to tell the Truth; and then if he persists to shuffle it off with a Falsehood, he must 35 be chastised ; but if he directly confess, you must commend his Ingenuity, and pardon the Fault, be it what it will ; and pardon it so, that you never so much as reproach him with it, or mention it to him again: For if you would have him in love with Ingenuity, and by a constant Practice make it 40 habitual to him, you must take care that it never procure him the least Inconvenience; but on the contrary, his own §§ 132—135] Seem to trust. The four Requisites. 115 Confession bringing always with it perfect Impunity, should be besides encouraged by some Marks of Approbation. If his Zxcuse be such at any time that you cannot prove it to have any Falshood in it, let it pass for true, and be sure not to shew any Suspicion of it. Let him keep up his Reputa- j3 tion with you as high as is possible; for when once he finds he has lost that, you have lost a great, and your best Hold upon him. Therefore let him not think he has the Character of a Liar with you, as long as you can avoid it without flattering him in it. Thus some Slips in Truth may be over-looked. 10 But after he has once been corrected for a Zze, you must be sure never after to pardon it in him, whenever you find and take notice to him that he is guilty of it: For it being a Fault which he has been forbid, and may, unless he be wilful, avoid, the repeating of it is perfect Perverseness, 15 and must have the Chastisement due to that Offence. § 133. This is what I have thought concerning the general Method of educating a young Gentleman ; which, though I am apt to suppose may have some Influence on the whole Course of his Education, yet I am far from 20 imagining it contains all those Particulars which his growing Years or peculiar Temper may require. But this being premised in general, we shall in the next Place, descend to a more particular Consideration of the several Parts of his Education. 25 § 134. That which every Gentleman (that takes any care of his Education) desires for his Son, besides the Estate he leaves him, is contain’d (I suppose) in these four Things, Virtue, Wisdom, Breeding, and Learning. 1 will not trouble my self whether these Names do not some of 30 them sometimes stand for the same Thing, or really include one another. It serves my Turn here to follow the popular Use of these Words, which, I presume, is clear enough to make me be understood, and I hope there will be no Diffi- culty to comprehend my Meaning. 35 § 135. I place Virtue as the first and most necessary of those Endowments that belong to a Man or a Gentleman; as absolutely requisite to make him valued and beloved by others, acceptable or tolerable to himself. Without that, I think, he will be happy neither in this nor the other 40 World. 8—2 116 Virtue. First Teaching about God. [§§ 136, 137 ol § 136. As the Foundation of this, there ? ought very early to be imprinted on his Mind a true Notion of God, as of the independent Supreme Being, Author and Maker of all Things, from whom we receive all 5 our Good, who loves us, and gives us all things. And con- sequent to this, instil into him a Love and Reverence of this Supreme Being. This is enough to begin with, without going to explain this Matter any farther; for fear lest by talking too early to him of Spirits, and being unseasonably forward ro to make him understand the incomprehensible Nature of that infinite Being, his Head be either filI’'d with false, or perplex’'d with unintelligible Notions of Him. Let him only be told upon Occasion, that God made and governs all things, hears and sees every thing, and does all manner of 15 Good to those that love and obey Him; you will find, that being told of such a God, other Thoughts will be apt to rise up fast enough in his Mind about Him; which, as you ob- serve them to have any Mistakes, you must set right. And I think it would be better if Men generally rested in such an 20 Idea of God, without being too curious in their Notions about a Being which all must acknowledge incomprehen- sible; whereby many, who have not Strength and Clearness of Thought to distinguish between what they can, and what they cannot know, run themselves in Superstition or Atheism, 25 making God like themselves, or (because they cannot com- prehend any thing else) none at all. And I am apt to think, the keeping Children constantly Morning and Evening to Acts of Devotion to God, as to their Maker, Preserver and Benefactor, in some plain and short Form of Prayer, suitable 30 to their Age and Capacity, will be of much more Use to them in Religion, Knowledge, and Virtue, than to distract their Thoughts with curious Enquiries into His inscrutable Essence and Being. § 137. Having by gentle Degrees, as you find him capable of it, settled such an Idea of God in his Mind, and taught him to pray to Him, and praise Him as the Author of his Being, and of all the Good he does or can enjoy; forbear any Discourse of other Spirits, till the mention of them coming in his way, upon 4o occasion hereafter to be set down, and his reading the Scripture-History, put him upon that Enquiry. 35... Sp § 138] Bogey makes Cowards. An Anecdote. 117 § 138. But even then, and always whilst he is young, be sure to preserve his tender Mind from all Impressions and Notions of Spizits and Goblins, or any fearful Apprehensions in the Dark. This he will be in danger of from the Indiscretion of Servants, whose usual 5 Method is to awe Children, and keep them in subjection, by telling them of Raw-iead and Bloody-bones, and such other Names as carry with them the Ideas of something terrible and hurtful, which they have Reason to be afraid of when alone, especially in the Dark. This must be care- 10 fully prevented : For though by this foolish way, they may keep them from little Faults, yet the Remedy is much worse than the Disease ; and there are stamped upon their Imagi- nations Ideas that follow them with Terror and Affright- ment. Such Bug-bear Thoughts once got into the tender 15 Minds of Children, and being set on with a strong Impres- sion from the Dread that accompanies such Apprehensions, sink deep, and fasten themselves so as not easily, if ever, to be got out again; and whilst they are there, frequently haunt them with strange Visions, making Children Dastards 20 when alone, and afraid of their Shadows and Darkness all their Lives after. I have had those complain to me, when Men, who had been thus used when young; that though their Reason corrected the wrong Ideas they had taken in, and they were satisfied that there was no Cause to fear 25 invisible Beings more in the Dark than in the Light, yet that these Notions were apt still upon any Occasion to start up first in their prepossessed Fancies, and not to be removed without some Pains. And to let you see how lasting and frightful Images are, that take place in the Mind early, I 30 shall here tell you a pretty remarkable but true Story. * There was in a Town in the West a Man of a disturbed Brain, whom the Boys used to teaze when he came in their way : This Fellow one Day seeing in the Street one of those Lads, that used to vex him, stepped into a Cutler's 35 Shop he was near, and there seizing on a naked Sword, made after the Boy; who seeing him coming so armed, betook himself to his Feet, and ran for his Life, and by good Luck had Strength and Heels enough to reach his Father's House before the Mad-man could get up to him. 40 The Door was only latch’d ; and when he had the Latch in Goblins. 118 Trust in God. Truth. Good-nature. [§§ 138,139 his Hand, he turn’d about his Head, to see how near his Pursuer was, who was at the Entrance of the Porch, with his Sword up ready to strike; and he had, just Time to get in, and clap to the Door to avoid the Blow, which, though 5 his Body escaped, his Mind did not. This frightening Idea made so deep an Impression there, that it lasted many Years, if not all his Life after. For, telling this Story when he was a Man, he said, That after that time till then, he never went in at that Door (that he could remember) at any Io time without looking back, whatever Business he had in his Head, or how little soever before he came thither he thought of this Mad-man. If Children were let alone, they would be no more afraid in the Dark, than in broad Sun-shine: They would I51in their turns as much welcome the one for Sleep as the other to play in. There should be no Distinction made to them by any Discourse of more Danger or Zerrible Things in the one than the other: But if the Folly of any one about them should do them this Harm, and make them 20 think there is any Difference between being in the dark and winking, you must get it out of their Minds as soon as you can; and let them know, that God, who made all things good for them, made the Night that they might sleep the better and the quieter; and that they being under his 25 Protection, there is nothing in the dark to hurt them. What is to be known more of God and good Spirits, is to be deferr’d till the time we shall hereafter mention ; and of evil Spirits, ’twill be well if you can keep him from wrong Fancies about them till he is ripe for that sort of Know- 30 ledge. § 139. Having laid the Foundations of Virtue in a true Notion of a God, such as the Creed wisely teaches, as far as his Age is capable, and by accustoming him to pray to Him; the next thing to be 35 taken care of, is to keep him exactly to speaking of Zruzs, and by all the ways imaginable inclining him to be gvod-natur’d. Let him know that twenty Faults are sooner to be forgiven than the straining of Truth: to cover any one by an Excuse. And to teach him 40 betimes to love and be good-natur'd to others, is to lay early the true Foundation of an honest Man ; all Injustice Truth. Good-Nature. §§ 139, 140] Correct Bias. Wisdom v. Cunning. 119 generally springing from too great Love of our selves and too little of others. This is all I shall say of this Matter in general, and is enough for laying the first Foundations of Virtue in a Child: As he grows up, the Tendency of his natural Incli- 5 nation must be observed; which, as it inclines him more than is convenient on one or tother side from the right Path of Virtue, ought to have proper Remedies applied. For few of Adam's Children are so happy, as not to be born with some Byass in their natural Temper, which it is 10 the Business of Education either to take off, or counter- balance. But to enter into Particulars of this, would be beyond the Design of this short Treatise of Education. I intend not a Discourse of all the Virtues and Vices, how each Virtue is to be attained, and every particular Vice by 15 its peculiar Remedies cured: Though I have mentioned some of the most ordinary Faults, and the Ways to be used in correcting them. § 140. Wisdom 1 take in the popular Acceptation, for a Man’s managing his Business ably and with foresight in this World. This is the Product of a good natural Temper, Application of Mind, and Experi- ence together, and so above the reach of Children. The greatest thing that in them can be done towards it, is to hinder them, as much as may be, from being cunning; 25 which, being the Ape of Wisdom, is the most distant from it that can be: And as an Ape for the Likeness it has to a Man, wanting what really should make him so, is by so much the uglier; Cunning is only the want of Understand- ing, which because it cannot compass its Ends by direct 30 Ways, would do it by a Trick and Circumvention ; and the Mischief of it is, a cunning Trick helps but once, but hinders ever after. No Cover was ever made either so big or so fine as to hide it self: No body was ever so cunning as to conceal their being so: And when they are once dis- 35 covered, every Body is shy, every Body distrustful of crafzy Men; and all the World forwardly join to oppose and defeat them; whilst the open, fair, wise Man has every body to make way for him, and goes directly to his Busi- ness. To accustom a Child to have true Notions of things, 40 and not to be satisfied till he has them ; to raise his Mind Wisdom. 20 120 Good Breeding. [§§ 140—14 to great and worthy Thoughts, and to keep him at a Dis- tance from Falshood and Cunning, which has always a broad Mixture of Falshood in it; is the fittest Preparation of a Child for Wisdom. The rest, which is to be learn’d 5 from Time, Experience, and Observation, and an Acquaint- ance with Men, their Tempers and Designs, is not to be expected in the Ignorance and Inadvertency of Childhood, or the inconsiderate Heat and Unwariness of Youth: All that can be done towards it, during this unripe Age, is, as I 10 have said, to accustom them to Truth and Sincerity; to a submission to Reason ; and as much as may be, to Reflec- tion on their own Actions. § 141. The next good Quality belonging to a Gentle- : man, is good Breeding. There are two sorts I Breeding. of 41] Breeding: The one a sheepish Bashfulness, and the other a miés-becoming Negligence and Disrespect in our Carriage; both which are avoided by duly observing this one Rule, Not to think meanly of ourselves, and not to think meanly of others. 20 § 142. The first part of this Rule must not be under- stood in Opposition to Humility, but to Assurance. We ought not to think so well of our selves, as to stand upon our own Value; and assume to our selves a Preference before others, because of any Advantage we may imagine we have 25 over them; but modestly to take what is offered, when it is our due. But yet we ought to think so well of our selves, as to perform those Actions which are incumbent on, and expected of us, without Discomposure or Disorder, in whose Presence soever we are; keeping that Respect and Distance 30 which is due to every one’s Rank and Quality. There is often in People, especially Children, a clownish Shame- facedness before Strangers or those above them: They are confounded in their Thoughts, Words, and Looks; and so lose themselves in that Confusion as not to be 35 able to do any thing, or at least not to do it with that Freedom and Gracefulness which pleases, and makes them be acceptable. The only cure for this, as for any other Miscarriage, is by use to introduce the contrary Habit. But since we cannot accustom ourselves to converse with 40 Strangers and Persons of Quality without being in their Company, nothing can cure this Part of /A-breeding but §§ 142, 143] Good and Ill-breeding analysed. 121 Change and Variety of Company, and that of Persons above us. § 143. As the before-mentioned consists in too great a Concern how to behave ourselves towards others; so the other Part of //l-breeding lies in the Appearance of too 3 little care of pleasing or shewing Respect to those we have to do with. To avoid this these two things are requisite: First, a Disposition of the Mind not to offend others ; and Secondly, the most acceptable and agreeable way of ex- pressing that Disposition. From the one Men are called 10 cwil; from the other well-fashion’d. The latter of these is that Decency and Gracefulness of Looks, Voice, Words, Motions, Gestures, and of all the whole outward Demeanour, which takes in Company, and makes those with whom we may converse, easy and well pleased. This is, as it were, 15 the Language whereby that internal Civility of the Mind is expressed; which, as other Languages are, being very much governed by the Fashion and Custom of every Country, must, in the Rules and Practice of it, be learn’d chiefly from Observation, and the Carriage of those who are allow’d zo to be exactly we/l-bred. The other Part, which lies deeper than the Outside, is that general Good-will and Regard for all People, which makes any one have a care not to shew in his Carriage any Contempt, Disrespect, or Neglect of them; but to express, according to the Fashion and Way of that 25 Country, a Respect and Value for them according to their Rank and Condition. It is a Disposition of the Mind that shews it self in the Carriage, whereby a Man avoids making any one uneasy in Conversation. I shall take notice of four Qualities, that are most 30 directly opposite to this first and most taking of all the social Vertues. And from some one of these four it is, that Incivility commonly has its Rise. I shall set them down, that Chil- dren may be preserv’d or recoverd from their ill Influence. 1. The first is, a natural Roughness, which makes a 35 Man uncomplaisant to others, so that he has : no Deference for their Inclinations, Tempers, or X74" Conditions. ’Tis the sure Badge of a Clown, not to mind what pleases or displeases those he is with ; and yet one may ofien find a Man in fashionable Clothes give an unbounded 40 swing to his own Humour, and suffer it to justle or over-run any 122 Ill-breeding analysed. Rallying. [§ 143 one that stands in its way, with a perfect Indifferency how they take it. This is a Brutality that every one sees and abhors, and no body can be easy with: And therefore this finds no place in any one who would be thought to have the 5 least Tincture of Good-breeding. For the very End and Business of Good-breeding is to supple the natural Stiffness, and so soften Men's Tempers, that they may bend to a Com- pliance, and accommodate themselves to those they have to do with. 10 2. Contempt, or want of due Respect, discovered either in Looks, Words, or Gesture: This, from whom- soever it comes, brings always Uneasiness with it. For no body can contentedly bear being slighted. 3. Censoriousness, and finding fault with others, has a 15 direct Opposition to Civility. Men, whatever Censorious- they are or are not guilty of, would not have their Faults display’d and set in open View and broad Day-light, before their own or other People’s Eyes. Blemishes affixed to any one always carry Shame 20 with them: And the Discovery, or even bare Imputation of any Defect is not born without some Uneasiness. Raillery is the most refined way of exposing the Faults of others: But, because it is usually done with Wit and good Language, and gives Entertainment 25 to the Company, People are led into a Mistake, that where it keeps within fair Bounds there is no Incivility in it. And so the Pleasantry of this sort of Conversation often intro- duces it amongst People of the better Rank; and such Talkers are favourably heard and generally applauded by 30 the Laughter of the By-standers on their side. But they ought to consider, that the Entertainment of the rest of the Company is at the cost of that one who is set out in their burlesque Colours, who therefore is not without Uneasiness, unless the Subject for which he is rallied be really in itself 35 Matter of Commendation. For then the pleasant Images and Representations which make the Raillery carrying Praise as well as Sport with them, the rallied Person also finds his Account, and takes Part in the Diversion. But because the right Management of so nice and ticklish a 40 Business, wherein a little Slip may spoil all, is not every body’s Talent, I think those who would secure themselves Contempt. Raillery. § 143] Contradiction. Captiousness. 123 from provoking others, especially all young People, should carefully abstain from Zazllery, which by a small Mistake or any wrong Turn, may leave upon the Mind of those who are made uneasy by it, the lasting Memory of having been piquantly, tho’ wittily, taunted for some thing censurable in 5 them. Besides Raillery, Contradiction is a sort of Censorious- ness wherein Ill-breeding often shews it self. Complaisance does not require that we should always admit all the Reasonings or Relations that the 10 Company is entertain’d with, no, nor silently to let pass all that is vented in our Hearing. The opposing the Opinions, and rectifying the Mistakes of others, is what Truth and Charity sometimes require of us, and Civility does not oppose, if it be done with due Caution and Care of Circum- 15 stances. But there are some People, that one may observe, possessed as it were with the Spirit of Contradiction, that steadily, and without regard to Right or Wrong, oppose some one, or, perhaps, every one of the Company, whatever they say. This is so visible and outrageous a way of 20 Censuring, that no body can avoid thinking himself injur’d by it. All Opposition to what another Man has said, is so apt to be suspected of Censoriousness, and is so seldom received without some sort of Humiliation, that it ought to be made in the gentlest manner, and softest Words can be 25 found, and such as with the whole Deportment may express no Forwardness to contradict. All Marks of Respect and good Will ought to accompany it, that whilst we gain the Argument, we may not lose the Esteem of those that hear us. 30 4. Captiousness is another Fault opposite to Civility ; not only because it often produces misbecoming i uoness. and provoking Expressions and Carriage; but because it is a tacit Accusation and Reproach of some Incivility taken notice of in those whom we are angry with. 33 Such a Suspicion or Intimation cannot be borne by any one without Uneasiness. Besides, one angry body dis- composes the whole Company, and the Harmony ceases upon any such Jarring. The Happiness that all Men so steadily pursue consist- 40 ing in Pleasure, it is easy to see why the Civi/ are more Contradiction. 124 Over-civil. [$8 143—145 acceptable than the Useful. The Ability, Sincerity, and good Intention of a Man of Weight and Worth, or a real Friend, seldom atones for the Uneasiness that is produced by his grave and solid Representations. Power and Riches, 5 nay Virtue itself, are valued only as conducing to our Happi- ness. And therefore he recommends himself ill to another as aiming at his Happiness, who, in the Services he does him, makes him uneasy in the Manner of doing them. He that knows how to make those he converses with easy, without 10 debasing himself to low and servile Flattery, has found the true Art of living in the World, and being both welcome and valued every where. Civility therefore is what in the first place should with great care be made habitual to Children and young People. I5 § 144. There is another Fault in good Manners, and that is Excess of Ceremony, and an obstinate persisting to force upon another what is not his Due, and what he cannot take without Folly or Shame. This seems rather a Design to expose than oblige: Or at 20 least looks like a Contest for Mastery, and at best is but troublesome, and so can be no Part of Good-breeding, which has no other Use or End but to make People easy and satisfied in their Conversation with us. This is a Fault few young People are apt to fall into ; but yet if they are 25 ever guilty of it, or are suspected to incline that way, they should be told of it, and warned of this mistaken Civility. The thing they should endeavour and aim at in Conver- sation, should be to shew Respect, Esteem, and Good-will, by paying to every one that common Ceremony and Regard 30 which is in Civility due to them. To do this without a Suspicion of Flattery, Dissimulation, or Meanness, is a great Skill, which good Sense, Reason, and good Company, can only teach ; but is of so much Use in civil Life, that it is well worth the studying. 35 § 145. Though the managing ourselves well in this Part of our Behaviour has the Name of Good-brecding, as if peculiarly the Effect of Education; yet, as I have said, young Children should not be much perplexed about it; I mean, about putting off their Hats, and making Legs 40 modishly. Teach them Humility, and to be good-natur'd, if you can, and this sort of Manners will not be wanting ; Breeding. § 145] Children’s Politeness simple. 123 Civility being in truth nothing but a Care not to shew any Slighting or Contempt of any one in Conversation. What are the most allow’d and esteem’d Ways of expressing this, we have above observ’d. It is as peculiar and different, in several Countries of the World, as their Languages; and 5 therefore, if it be rightly considered, Rules and Discourses made to Children about it, are as useless and impertinent, as it would be now and then to give a Rule or two of the Spanish Tongue to one that converses only with Z7g- lishmen. Be as busy as you please with Discourses of 10 Civility to your Son, such as is his Company, such will be his Manners. A Plough-man of your Neighbourhood, that | has never been out of his Parish, read what Lectures you please to him, will be as soon in his Language as his Carriage a Courtier ; that is, in neither will be more polite/15 than those he uses to converse with: And therefore, of this no other Care can be taken till he be of an Age to have a Tutor put to him, who must not fail to be a well- bred Man. And, in good earnest, if I were to speak my Mind freely, so Children do nothing out of Obstinacy, 20 Pride, and Ill-nature, ’tis no great matter how they put off their Hats or make Legs. If you can teach them to love and respect other People, they will, as their Age requires it, find Ways to express it acceptably to every one, according to the Fashions they have been used to: 25 And as to their Motions and Carriage of their Bodies, a Dancing-Master, as has been said, when it is fit, will teach them what is most becoming. In the mean time, when they are young, People expect not that Children should be over-mindful of these Ceremonies; Carelessness 30 is allow’d to that Age, and becomes them as well as Com- pliments do grown People: Or, at least, if some very nice People will think it a Fault, I am sure it is a Fault that should be over-look’d, and left to Time, a Tutor, and Conversation to cure. And therefore I think it not worth 35 your while to have your Son (as I often see Children are) molested or chid about it: But where there is Pride or Ill-nature appearing in his Carrriage, there he must be persuaded or shamed out of it. ; Though Children, when little, should not be much 40 perplexed with Rules and ceremonious parts of Breeding, 126 Rudeness of Interrupting. [§ 145 yet there is a sort of Unmannerliness very apt to grow up with young People, if not early restrained, and that is, a Forwardness to #nferrupt others that are speaking ; and to stop them with some Contra- 5 diction. Whether the Custom of Disputing, and the Repu- tation of Parts and Learning usually given to it as if it were the only Standard and Evidence of Knowledge, make young Men so forward to watch Occasions to correct others in their Discourse, and not to slip any Opportunity of shewing their Talents: So it is, that I have found Scholars most blamed in this Point. There cannot be a greater Rudeness, than to énzerrupt? another in the Current of his Discourse ; for if there be not impertinent Folly in answer: ing a Man before we know what he will say, yet it is 15 plain Declaration, that we are weary to hear him tal ny longer, and have a Dis-esteem of what he says; which ve judging not fit to entertain the Company, desire them o give Audience to us, who have something to produce vorth their Attention. This shews a very great Disrespect, 2d’ and cannot but be offensive: And yet this is what almost all Znterruption constantly carries with it. To which, if there be added, as is usual, a Correcting of any Mistake, or a Contradiction of what has been said, it is a Mark of yet greater Pride and Self-conceitedness, when we thus 25 intrude our selves for Teachers, and take upon us either to set another right in his Story, or shew the Mistakes of his Judgment. I do not say this, that I think there should be no Difference of Opinions in Conversation, nor Opposition 30 in Men's Discourses: This would be to take away the greatest Advantage of Society, and the Improvements are to be made by ingenious Company; where the Light is to be got from the opposite Arguings of Men of Parts, shewing the different Sides of Things and their various 35 Aspects and Probabilities, would be quite lost, if every one were obliged to assent to, and say after the first Speaker. "Tis not the owning one’s Dissent from another, that I speak against, but the Manner of doing it. Young Men should be taught not to be forward to #nferpose their 40 Opinions, unless asked, or when others have done, and are silent; and then only by way of Enquiry, not Instruc- Interruption. I oO § 145] Modest carriage. Rudeness in high life. 127 tion. The positive asserting, and the magisterial Air should be avoided ; and when a general Pause of the whole Com- pany affords an Opportunity, they may modestly put in their Question as Learners. This becoming Decency will not cloud their Parts, nor 5 weaken the Strength of their Reason; but bespeak the more favourable Attention, and give what they say the greater Advantage. An ill Argument, or ordinary Obser- vation, thus introduc’d, with some civil Preface of Defe- rence and Respect to the Opinions of others, will procure them more Credit and Esteem, than the sharpest Wit, or profoundest Science, with a rough, insolent, or noisy Man- agement, which always shocks the Hearers, leaves an ill Opinion of the Man, though he get the better of it in the Argument. 15 This therefore should be carefully watched in young People, stopp’d in the Beginning, and the contrary Habit introduced in all their Conversation. And the rather, because Forwardness to talk, frequent Zuferruptions in arguing, and loud Wrangling, are too often observable zo amongst grown People, even of Rank, amongst us. The Indians, whom we call barbarous, observe much more Decency and Civility in their Discourses and Conversation, giving one another a fair silent Hearing till they have quite done; and then answering them calmly, and without Noise 25 or Passion. And if it be not so in this civiliz’d Part of the World, we must impute it to a neglect in Education, which has not yet reform’d this antient Piece of Barbarity amongst us. Was it not, think you, an entertaining Spectacle, to see two Ladies of Quality accidentally seated on the op- 30 posite Sides of a Room, set round with Company, fall into a Dispute, and grow so eager in it, that in the Heat of the Controversy, edging by Degrees their Chairs forwards, they were in a little time got up close to one another in the middle of the Room ; where they 35 for a good while managed the Dispute as fiercely as two | Game-Cocks in the Pit, without minding or taking any | notice of the Circle, which could not all the while forbear smiling? This I was told by a Person of Quality, who was present at the Combat, and did not omit to reflect 40 upon the Indecencies that Warmth in Dispute often runs Lal o Dispute. 128 Influence of Companions. Learning. [§§145—147 People into; which, since Custom makes too frequent, Education should take the more care of. There is no body but condemns this in others, though they overlook it in themselves; and many who are sensible of it in them- 5 selves, and resolve against it, cannot yet get rid of an ill Custom, which Neglect in their Education has sufferd to settle into an Habit. § 146. What has been above said concerning Company, Contos would perhaps, if it were well reflected on, 10 "give us a larger Prospect, and let us see how much farther its Influence reaches. ’Tis not the Modes of Civility alone, that are imprinted by Conversation: The Tincture of Company sinks deeper that the Out-side; and possibly, if a true Estimate were made of the Morality and 15 Religions of the World, we should find that the far greater part of Mankind received even those Opinions and Cere- monies they would die for, rather from the Fashions of their Countries, and the constant Practice of those about them, than from any Conviction of their Reasons. I mention 20 this only to let you see of what Moment I think Company is to your Son in all the Parts of his Life, and therefore how much that one Part is to be weighed and provided for; it being of greater Force to work upon him, than all you can do besides. 25 147. You will wonder, perhaps, that I put Learning Set Sone last, especially if I tell you I think it the least * Part. This may seem strange in the Mouth of a bookish Man ; and this making usually the chief, if not only bustle and stir about Children, this being almost that 30 alone which is thought on, when People talk of Education, makes it the greater Paradox. When I consider, what ado is made about a little Za#z and Greek, how many Years are spent in it, and what a Noise and Business it makes to no Purpose, I can hardly forbear thinking that the Parents of 35 Children still live in fear of the School-master’s Rod, which they look on as the only Instrument of Education; as a Language or two to be its whole Business. How else is it possible that a Child should be chain’d to the Oar seven, eight, or ten of the best Years of his Life, to get a Language 40 or two, which, I think, might be had at a great deal cheaper rate of Pains and Time, and be learn’d almost in playing ? Cm... §§ 147, 148] Learning needful but subordinate. 129 Forgive me therefore if I say, I cannot with Patience think, that a young Gentleman should be put into the Herd, and be driven with a Whip and Scourge, as if he were to run the Gantlet through the several Classes, ad capiendum ingenii cultum. What then? say you, would you 5 not have him write and read? Shall he be more ignorant than the Clerk of our Parish, who takes Hopkins and Sternhold for the best Poets in the World, whom yet he makes worse than they are by his ill Reading? Not so, not so fast, I beseech you. Reading and Writing and 10 Learning 1 allow to be necessary, but yet not the chief Business. I imagine you would think him a very foolish Fellow, that should not value a virtuous or a wise Man infinitely before a great Scholar. Not but that I think Learning a great Help to both in well-dispos’d Minds ; but 15 yet it must be confess’d also, that in others not so dispos’d, it helps them only to be the more foolish, or worse Men. I say this, that when you consider of the Breeding of your Son, and are looking out for a School-Master or a Tutor, you would not have (as is usual) ZaZin and Logik only in 20 your Thoughts. Zearning must be had, but in the second Place, as subservient only to greater Qualities. Seek out somebody that may know how discreetly to frame his Manners: Place him in Hands where you may, as much as possible, secure his Innocence, cherish and nurse up the 25 good, and gently correct and weed out any bad Inclinations, and settle in him good Habits. Thisis the main Point, and this being provided for, Zearning may be had into the Bargain, and that, as I think, at a very easy rate, by Methods that may be thought on. 30 § 148. When he can talk, ’tis time he should begin to learn to read. But as to this, give me leave here to inculcate again, what is very apt to be forgotten, wzz. ‘That great care is to be taken, that it be never made as a Business to him, nor he look on it as a 35 Task. We naturally, as I said, even from our Cradles, love Liberty, and have therefore an Aversion to many things for no other Reason but because they are enjoin’d us. I have always had a Fancy that Learning might be made a Play and Recreation to Children; and that they might be brought to 40 desire to be taught, if it were proposed to them as a thing of Q ig Reading. 130 No Compulsion: make Learning Sport. [§§ 148,9 Honour, Credit, Delight, and Recreation, or as a Reward for doing something else; and if they were never chid or corrected for the neglect of it. That which confirms me in this Opinion, is, that amongst the Forfuguese, ’tis so much a 5 Fashion and Emulation amongst their Children, to Zan to read and write, that they cannot hinder them from it: They will learn it one from another, and are as intent on it, as if it were forbidden them. I remember that being at a Friend’s House, whose younger Son, a Child in Coats, was 10 not easily brought to his Book (being taught # read at home by his Mother) I advised to try another Way, than re- quiring it of him as his Duty; we therefore, in a Discourse on purpose amongst our selves, in his Hearing, but without taking any notice of him, declared, That it was the Privilege 15 and Advantage of Heirs and elder Brothers, to be Scholars; that this made them fine Gentlemen, and beloved by every Body: And that for younger Brothers, ‘twas a Favour to admit them to Breeding; to be taught to read and write, was more than came to their share; they might be ignorant 20 Bumpkins and Clowns, if they pleased. This so wrought upon the Child, that afterwards he desired to be taught; would come himself to his Mother to Zearn, and would not let his Maid be quiet till she heard him his Lesson. I doubt not but some Way like this might be taken with other Chil- 25 dren; and when their Tempers are found, some Thoughts be instill’d into them, that might set them upon desiring of Learning themselves, and make them seek it as another sort of Play or Recreation. But then, as I said before, it must never be imposed as a Task, nor made a Trouble to 30 them. There may be Dice and Play-things, with the Letters on them to teach Children the AZpkabet by playing; and twenty other Ways may be found, suitable to their particular , Tempers, to make this kind of Learning a Sport to them. 149. Thus Children may be cozen’d into a Knowledge 35 of the Letters; be taught to read, without perceiving it to be any thing but a Sport, and play themselves into that which others are whipp’d for. Children should not have any thing like Work, or serious, laid on them; neither their Minds, nor Bodies will bear it. It injures their Healths; and their 40 being forced and tied down to their Books in an Age at enmity with all such Restraint, has, I doubt not, been the §§ 149—151] Games for teaching Reading. 131 Reason, why a great many have hated Books and Learning all their Lives after. ’Tis like a Surfeit, that leaves an Aversion behind not to be removed. § 150. I have therefore thought, that if Play-things were fitted to this Purpose, as they are usually to none, ‘5 Contrivances might be made #o feack Children to read, yl they thought they were only playing. For Example, what i an Jvory-Ball were made like that of the Royal-oak Lottery, with thirty two Sides, or one rather of twenty four or twenty five Sides; and upon several of those Sides pasted on an A, ro upon several others B, on others C, and on others D? I would have you begin with but these four Letters, or perhaps only two at first; and when he is perfect in them, - then add another; and so on till each Side having one Letter, there be on it the whole Alphabet. This I would 15 have others play with before him, it being as good a sort of Play to lay a Stake who shall first throw an A or B, as who upon Dice shall throw Six or Seven. This being a Play amongst you, tempt him not to it, lest you make it Busi- ness; for I would not have him understand ’tis any thing 20 but a Play of older People, and I doubt not but he will take to it of himself. And that he may have the more Reason to think it is a Play, that he is sometimes in favour admitted to, when the Play is done the Ball should be laid up safe out of his Reach, that so it may 25 not, by his having it in his keeping at any time, grow stale to him. § 151. To keep up his Eagerness to it, let him think it a Game belonging to those above him: And when, by this Means, he knows the Letters, by changing them intoj3o Syllables, he may learn to read, without knowing how h did so, and never have any Chiding or Trouble about it, nor fall out with Books because of the hard Usage and Vexation they have caus’d him. Children, if you observe them, take abundance of Pains to learn several Games, 35 which, if they should be enjoined them, they would abhor as a Task and Business. I know a Person of great Quality, (more yet to be honoured for his Learning and Virtue than for his Rank and high Place) who by pasting on the six Vowels (for in our Language Y is one) on the six Sides of 40 a Die, and the remaining eighteen Consonants on the Sides Qe 2 132 Games for Reading. [§§ 151—155 of three other Dice, has made this a Play for his Children, that he shall win who, at one Cast, throws most Words on these four Dice; whereby his eldest Son, yet in Coats, has play’d himself into spelling, with great Eagerness, and with- 5 out once having been chid for it or forced to it. § 152. I have seen little Girls exercise whole Hours together and take abundance of Pains to be expert at Dibstones as they call it. Whilst I have been looking on, I have thought it wanted only some good Contrivance to 10 make them employ all that Industry about something that might be more useful to them; and methinks ’tis only the Fault and Negligence of elder People that it is not so. Children are much less apt to be idle than Men ; and Men are to be blamed if some Part of that busy Humour be not 15 turned to useful Things; which might be made ‘usually as delightful to them as those they are employed in, if Men would be but half so forward to lead the Way, as these little Apes would be to follow. I imagine some wise Portuguese heretofore began this Fashion amongst the Chil- 20 dren of his Country, where I have been told, as I said, it is impossible to hindér the Children from learning to read and write: And in some Parts of France they teach one another to sing and dance from the Cradle. § 153. The Letters pasted upon the Sides of the Dice, 25 or Polygon, were best to be of the Size of those of the Folio Bible, to begin with, and none of them Capital Let- ters; when once he can read what is printed in such Letters, he will not long be ignorant of the great ones: And in the Beginning he should not be perplexed with 30 Variety. With this Die also, you might have a Play just like the Royal Oak, which would be another Variety, and play for Cherries or Apples, Sc. § 154. Besides these, twenty other Plays might be invented depending on Ze#zers, which those who like this 335 Way, may easily contrive and get made to this Use if they will. But the four Dice above-mention’d I think so easy and useful, that it will be hard to find any better, and there will be scarce need of any other. : § 155. Thus much for learning fo read, which let him 9 never be driven to, nor chid for; cheat him into it if you can, but make it not a Business for him. ’Tis better it be §§ 155, 156] Amusing Books with Pictures. = 133 a Year later before he can read, than that he should this Way get an Aversion to Learning. If you have any Con- tests with him, let it be in Matters of Moment, of Truth, and good Nature; but lay no Task on him about ABC. Use your Skill to make his Will supple and pliant to 5 Reason : Teach him to love Credit and Commendation ; to abhor being thought ill or meanly of, especially by You and his Mother, and then the rest will come all easily. But I think if you will do that, you must not shackle and tie him up with Rules about indifferent Matters, nor rebuke him 10 for every little Fault, or perhaps some that to others would seem great ones ; but of this I have said enough already. § 156. When by these gentle Ways he begins to read, some easy pleasant Book, suited to his Capacity, should be put into his Hands, wherein the Entertainment that he 15 finds might draw him on, and reward his Pains in Reading, and yet not such as should fill his Head with perfectly use- less Trumpery, or lay the Principles of Vice and Folly. To this Purpose, I think Zsop’'s Fables the best, which being Stories apt to delight and entertain a Child, may yet 20 afford useful Reflections to a grown Man; and if his . Memory retain them all his Life after, he will not repent to find them there, amongst his manly Thoughts and serious Business. If his .#sop has Pictures in it, it will entertain him much the better, and encourage him to read, when it 25 carries the Increase of Knowledge with it: For such visible Objects Children hear talked of in vain and without any Satisfaction whilst they have no Ideas of them; those Ideas being not to be had from Sounds, but from the Things themselves or their Pictures. And therefore I 30 think as soon as he begins to spell, as many Pictures of Animals should be got him as can be found, with the printed Names to them, which at the same Time will invite him to read, and afford him Matter of Enquiry and Know- ledge. Reynard the Fox is another Book I think may be 35 made use of to the same Purpose. And if those about him will talk to him often about the Stories he has read, and hear him tell them, it will, besides other Advantages, add Encouragement and Delight to his Reading, when he finds there is some Use and Pleasure in it. These Baits seem 40 wholly neglected in the ordinary Method; and ’tis usually 134 Learning by Heart. The Bible. [§§ 156—158 long before Learners find any Use or Pleasure in reading, which may tempt them to it, and so take Books only for fashionable Amusements, or impertinent Troubles, good for nothing. 5 § 157. The Lord’s Prayer, the Creeds, and Ten Com- mandments, ’tis necessary he should learn perfectly by heart ; but, I think, not by reading them himself in his Primer, but by somebody’s repeating them to him, even before he can read. But learning by heart, and Zarning to 10 7¢ad, should not I think be mix’d, and so one made to clog the other. But his larning fo read should be made as little Trouble or Business to him as might be. What other Books there are in £E#ng/is/ of the Kind of those above-mentioned, fit to engage the Liking of Children, 15 and tempt them to read, I do not know: But am apt to think, that Children being generally delivered over to the Method of Schools, where the Fear of the Rod is to inforce, and not any Pleasure of the Employment to invite them to learn, this Sort of useful Books, amongst the Number of 20 silly ones that are of all Sorts, have yet had the Fate to be neglected ; and nothing that I know has been considered of this Kind out of the ordinary Road of the Horn-book, Primer, Psalter, Testament, and Bible. § 158. As for the Bible, which Children are usually 25 employ’d in to exercise and improve their Talent iz reading, I think the promiscuous reading of it through by Chapters as they lie in Order, is so far from being of any Advantage to Children, either for the perfecting their Reading, or prin- cipling their Religion, that perhaps a worse could not be 30 found. For what Pleasure or Encouragement can it be to a Child to exercise himself in reading those Parts of a Book where he understands nothing? And how little are the Law of Moses, the Song of Solomon, the Prophecies in the Old, and the Epistles and Apocalypse in the New Testa- 35 ment, suited to a Child's Capacity? And though the History of the Evangelists and the Acs have something easier, yet, taken all together, it is very disproportional to the Understanding of Childhood. I grant that the Prin- ciples of Religion are to be drawn from thence, and in the 40 Words of the Scripture; yet none should be propos’d to a Child, but such as are suited to a Child’s Capacity and §§ 158, 159] Learning by heart from the Bible. 135 Notions. But ’tis far from this to read through the whole Bible, and that for reading’s sake. And what an odd jumble of Thoughts must a Child have in his Head, if he have any at all, such as he should have concerning Religion, who in his tender Age reads all the Parts of the Bzble indifferently 35 as the Word of God without any other Distinction! I am apt to think, that this in some Men has been the very Reason why they never had clear and distinct Thoughts of it all their Lifetime. § 159. And now I am by chance fallen on this Subject, 10 give me leave to say, that there are some Parts of the Serzp- ture which may be proper to be put into the Hands of a Child to engage him to read; such as are the Story of Joseph and his Brethren, of David and Goliak, of David and Jonathan, &c. and others that he should be made to 15 read for his Instruction, as that, What you would have others do unto you, do you the same unto them; and such other easy and plain moral Rules, which being fitly chosen, might often be made use of, both for Reading and Instruc- tion together; and so often read till they are throughly zo fixed in the Memory ; and then afterwards, as he grows ripe for them, may in their Turns on fit Occasions be incul- cated as the standing and sacred Rules of his Life and Actions. But the Reading of the whole Scripture indif- ferently, is what I think very inconvenient for Children, 25 till after having been made acquainted with the plainest fundamental Parts of it, they have got some kind of general View of what they ought principally to believe and practise ; which yet, I think, they ought to receive in the very Words of the Scripture, and not in such as Men prepossess'd by 30 Systems and Analogies are apt in this Case to make use of and force upon them. Dr. Worthington, to avoid this, has made a Catechism, which has all its Answers in the precise Words of the Scripture; a Thing of good Example, and such a sound Form of Words as no Christian can except 35 against as not fit for his Child to learn. Of this, as soon as he can say the Lord’s Prayer, Creed, the ten Command- ments, by Heart, it may be fit for him to learn a Question every Day, or every Week, as his Understanding is able to receive and his Memory to retain them. And when he has 40 this Catechism perfectly by Heart, so as readily and roundly 136 Writing. Drawing. [§§ 150—161 to answer to any Question in the whole Book, it may be convenient to lodge in his Mind the remaining moral Rules scatter’d up and down in the Bible, as the best Exercise of his Memory, and that which may be always a Rule to him, 5 ready at Hand, in the whole Conduct of his Life. *§ 160. When he can read English well, it will be Writing seasonable to enter him in Writing: And here "the first Thing should be taught him is to %o/d his Pen right; and this he should be perfect in before he 10 should be suffered to put it to Paper: For not only Chil- dren but any body else that would do any Thing well, should never be put upon too much of it at once, or be set to perfect themselves in two Parts of an Action at the same Time, if they can possibly be separated. I think the 15 /falian Way of holding the Pen between the Thumb and the Fore-finger alone, may be best; but in this you may consult some good Writing-master, or any other Person who writes well and quick. When he has learn’d to hold his Pen right, in the next Place he should learn how to 20 lay his Paper, and place his Arm and Body fo i#. These Practices being got over, the Way to teach him to write without much Trouble, is to get a Plate graved with the Characters of such a Hand as you like best: But you must remember to have them a pretty deal bigger than he should 25 ordinarily write ; for every one naturally comes by Degrees to write a less Hand than he at first was taught, but never a bigger. Such a Plate being graved, let several Sheets of good Writing-paper be printed off with red Ink, which he has nothing to do but go over with a good Pen fil’'d with 30 black Ink, which will quickly bring his Hand to the For- mation of those Characters, being at first shewed where to begin, and how to form every Letter. And when he can do that well, he must then exercise on fair Paper; and so may easily be brought # w77ze the Hand you desire. 35 § 161. When he can write well and quick, I think it Drawing. 13 be convenient not only to continue the "Exercise of his Hand in Writing, but also to improve the Use of it tarther in Drawing; a Thing very useful to a Gentleman in several Occasions; but especially 40 if he travel, as that which helps a Man often to express, in a few Lines well put together, what a whole Sheet of Paper §§ 161, 162] How much Drawing. Short-hand. 137 in Writing would not be able to represent and make intelli- gible. How many Buildings may a Man see, how many Machines and Habits meet with, the Ideas whereof would be easily retain’d and communicated by a little Skill in Drawing ; which being committed to Words, are in danger 5 to be lost, or at best but ill retained in the most exact Descriptions? I do not mean that I would have your Son a perfect Painter ; to be that to any tolerable Degree, will require more Time than a young Gentleman can spare from his other Improvements of greater Moment. But so 10 much Insight into Perspective and Skill in Drawing, as will enable him to represent tolerably on Paper any thing he sees, except Faces, may, I think, be got in a little Time, especially if he have a Genius to it; but where that is wanting, unless it be in the things absolutely necessary, it is 15 better to let him pass them by quietly, than to vex him about them to no Purpose: And therefore in this, as in all other things not absolutely necessary, the Rule holds, Vi/ invita Minerva. 9 1. Short-hand, an Art, as I have been told, known 20 only in Zngland, may perhaps be thought worth the learning, both for Dispatch in what Men write for their own Memory, and Concealment of what they would not have lie open to every Eye. For he that has once learn’d any Sort of Character, may easily vary it 25 to his own private Use or Fancy, and with more Contrac- tion suit it to the Business he would employ it in. Mr. Rick's, the best contriv’d of any I have seen, may, as I think, by one who knows and considers Grammar well, be made much easier and shorter. But for the learning this 30 compendious Way of Writing, there will be no need hastily to look out a Master; it will be early enough when any convenient Opportunity offers itself at any Time, after his Hand is well settled in fair and quick Writing. For Boys have but little use of Skort-hand, and should by no means 35 practise it till they write perfectly well, and have throughly fixed the Habit of doing so. el : 162. As soon as he can speak English, ’tis time for ~ him to learn some other Language. This ne— oa body doubts of, when French is propos’d. And ey ap \the Reason is, because People are accustomed to the right Short-hand. 138 French. Latin. [§§ 162—164 Way of teaching that Language, which is by talking it into Children in constant Conversation, and not by grammatical Rules. The Zatin Tongue would easily be taught the same Way, if his Tutor, being constantly with him, would 5 talk nothing else to him, and make him answer still in the same Language. But because Frenck is a living Language, and to be used more in speaking, that should be first learned, that the yet pliant Organs of Speech might be accustomed to a due Formation of those Sounds, and he ro get the Habit of pronouncing French well, which is the harder to be done the longer it is delay’d. § 163. When he can speak and read French well, which in this Method is usually in a Year or two, he should proceed to LZa#in, which ’tis a wonder 15 Parents, when they have had the Experiment in French, should not think ought to be learned the same way, by talking and reading. Only Care is to be taken whilst he is learning these foreign Languages, by speaking and reading nothing else with his Tutor, that he do not forget to read 20 English, which may be preserved by his Mother or some body else hearing him read some chosen Parts of the Scripture or other Znglissz Book every Day. oil 164. Latin 1 look upon as absolutely necessary to a Gentleman ; and indeed Custom, which prevails over every - 25 thing, has made it so much a Part of Education, that even those Children are whipp’d to it, and made spend many Hours of their precious Time uneasily in Za#zz, who, after they are once gone from School, are never to have more to do with it as long as they live. Can there be any thing 30 more ridiculous, than that a Father should waste his own Money and his Son’s Time in setting him to learn the Roman Language, when at the same Time he designs him for a Trade, wherein he having no use of Za, fails not to forget that little which he brought from School, and 35 which ’tis ten to one he abhors for the ill Usage it procured him? Could it be believed, unless we had every where amongst us Examples of it, that a Child should be forced to learn the Rudiments of a Language which he is never to use in the Course of Life that he is designed to, and neglect 4o all the while the writing a good Hand and casting Ac- counts, which are of great Advantage in all Conditions of Latin. §§ 164—166] Latin without Grammar. 139 Life, and to most Trades indispensably necessary? But though these Qualifications, requisite to Trade and Com- merce and the Business of the World, are seldom or never to be had at Grammar-Schools, yet thither not only Gentle- men send their younger Sons, intended for Trades, but 5 even Tradesmen and Farmers fail not to send their Chil- dren, though they have neither Intention nor Ability to make them Scholars. If you ask them why they do this, they think it as strange a Question as if you should ask them, Why they go to Church. Custom serves for Reason, 10 and has, to those who take it for Reason, so consecrated this Method, that it is almost religiously observed by them, and they stick to it, as if their Children had scarce an orthodox Education unless they learned Z#//y’s Grammar. § 165. But how necessary soever Latin be to some, 15 and is thought to be to others to whom it is of no manner of Use and Service ; yet the ordinary Way of learning it in a Grammar-School is that which having had Thoughts about I cannot be forward to encourage. The Reasons against it are so evident and cogent, that they have pre- 20 vailed with some intelligent Persons to quit the ordinary Road, not without Success, though the Method made use of was not exactly what I imagine the easiest, and in short is this. To trouble the Child with no Grammar at all, but to have Latin, as English has been, without the Perplexity of 25 Rules, talked into him ; for if you will consider it, Latin is no more unknown to a Child, when he comes into the World, than Znglish: And yet he learns English without Master, Rule, or Grammar ; and so might he Zan too, as Zw/ly did, if he had some body always to talk to him in 30 this Language. And when we so often see a French Woman teach an Znglish Girl to speak and read French perfectly in a Year or two, without any Rule of Grammar, or any thing else but prattling to her, I cannot but wonder how Gentlemen have overseen this Way for their Sons, and 35 thought them more dull or incapable than their Daughters. § 166. If therefore a Man could be got, who himsel speaking good Latin, would always be about your Son, talk constantly to him, and suffer him to speak or read nothing else, this would be the true and genuine Way, and that)4o which I would propose, not only as the easiest and best, 110 Begin with Knowledge of Things. [§§ 166, 167 wherein a Child might, without Pains or Chiding, get a Language, which others are wont to be whipt for at School six or seven Years together: But also as that, wherein at the same Time he might have his Mind and Manners 5 formed, and he be instructed to boot in several Sciences, such as are a good Part of Geography, Astronomy, Chrono- logy, Anatomy, besides some Parts of History, and all other Parts of Knowledge of Things that fall under the Senses and require little more than Memory. For there, if we 10 would take the true Way, our Knowledge should begin, and in those Things be laid the Foundation; and not in the abstract Notions of ZLogick and Metaphysicks, which are fitter to amuse than inform the Understanding in its first setting out towards Knowledge. When young Men have 15 had their Heads employ’d a while in those abstract Specu- lations without finding the Success and Improvement, or that Use of them, which they expected, they are apt to have mean Thoughts either of Learning or themselves; they are tempted to quit their Studies, and throw away 20 their Books as containing nothing but hard Words and empty Sounds; or else, to conclude, that if there be any real Knowledge in them, they themselves have not Under- standings capable of it. That this is so, perhaps I could assure you upon my own Experience. Amongst other 25 Things to be learned by a young Gentleman in this Method, whilst others of his Age are wholly taken up with Zain and Languages, I may also set down Geometry for one; having known a young Gentleman, bred something after * this Way, able to demonstrate several Propositions in 30 Luclid before he was thirteen. § 167. But if such a Man cannot be got, who speaks good Zatin, and being able to instruct your Son in all these Parts of Knowledge, will undertake it by this Method ; the next best is to have him taught as near this Way as may be, 35 which is by taking some easy and pleasant Book, such a Asop’s Fables, and writing the English Translation (made as literal as it can be) in one Line, and the Zain Words which answer each of them, just over it in another. These let hi read every Day over and over again, till he perfectly under- 40 stands the Za#in ; and then go on to another Fable, till he be also perfect in that, not omitting what he is already § 167] Art of Teaching. - 141 perfect in, but sometimes reviewing that, to keep it in his Memory. And when he comes to write, let these be set him for Copies, which with the Exercise of his Hand will also advance him to Zafin. This being a more imperfect Way than by talking Zain unto him ; the Formation of the 35 Verbs first, and afterwards the Declensions of the Nouns and Pronouns perfectly learned by Heart, may facilitate his Acquaintance with the Genius and Manner of the Zatin Tongue, which varies the Signification of Verbs and Nouns, not as the Modern Languages do by Particles prefix’d, but 10 by changing the last Syllables. More than this of Gram- mar, I think he need not have, till he can read himself Sanctii Minerva, with Scioppius and Perizonius’s Notes. In teaching of Children, this too, I think, is to be observed, that in most Cases where they stick, they are 15 not to be farther puzzled by putting them upon finding it out themselves; as by asking such Questions as these, (viz.) Which is the Nominative Case, in the Sentence they are to construe; or demanding what aufero signifies, to lead them to the Knowledge what abstulere signifies, &c. 20 when they cannot readily tell. This wastes Time only in disturbing them; for whilst they are learning, and apply themselves with Attention, they are to be kept in good Humour, and every Thing made easy to them, and as plea- sant as possible. Therefore whereever they are at a Stand, 25 and are willing to go forwards, help them presently over the Difficulty, without any Rebuke or Chiding, remembring, that where harsher Ways are taken, they are the Effect only of Pride and Peevishness in the Teacher, who expects Chil- dren should instantly be Masters of as much as he knows; 30 whereas he should rather consider, that his Business is to settle in them Habits, not angrily to inculcate Rules, which serve for little in the Conduct of our Lives ; at least are of no use to Children, who forget them as soon as given. In Sciences where their Reason is to be exercised, I will not 35 deny but this Method may sometimes be varied, and Difficulties proposed on purpose to excite Industry, and accustom the Mind to employ its own Strength and Saga- city in Reasoning. But yet, I guess, this is not to be done to Children, whilst very young, nor at their Entrance upon 40 any Sort of Knowledge: Then every Thing of itself is 142 Children’s Attention. [§ 167 difficult, and the great Use and Skill of a Teacher is to make all as easy as he can: But particularly in learning of Languages there is least Occasion for posing of Children. For Languages being to be learned by Rote, Custom and 5 Memory, are then spoken in greatest Perfection, when all Rules of Grammar are utterly forgotten. I grant the Gram- mar of a Language is sometimes very carefully to be studied, but it is not to be studied but by a grown Man, when he applies himself to the understanding of any Language criti- 10 cally, which is seldom the Business of any but professed Scholars. This I think will be agreed to, that if a Gentle- man be to study any Language, it ought to be that of his own Country, that he may understand the Language which he has constant Use of, with the utmost Accuracy. I5 There is yet a further Reason, why Masters and Teach- ers should raise no Difficulties to their Scholars; but on the contrary should smooth their Way, and readily help them forwards, where they find them stop: Children’s Minds are narrow and weak, and usually susceptible but of 20 one Thought at once. Whatever is in a Childs Head, fills it for the time, especially if set on with any Passion. It should therefore be the Skill and Art of the Teacher to clear their Heads of all other Thoughts whilst they are learning of any Thing, the better to make room for what he 25 would instill into them, that it may be received with Atten- tion and Application, without which it leaves no Impression. The natural Temper of Children disposes their Minds to wander. Novelty alone takes them; whatever that presents, they are presently eager fo have a Taste of, and are as soon 30 satiated with it. They quickly grow weary of the same thing, and so have almost their whole Delight in Change and Variety. It is a Contradiction to the natural State of Childhood for them to fix their fleeting Thoughts. Whether this be owing to the Temper of their Brains, or the Quick- 35 ness or Instability of their animal Spirits, over which the Mind has not yet got a full Command ; this is visible, that it is a Pain to Children to keep their Thoughts steady to any thing. A lasting continued Attention is one of the hardest Tasks can be imposed on them ; and therefore, he 40 that requires their Application, should endeavour to make what he proposes as grateful and agreeable as possible; at § 167] Attention lost by Harshness. 143 least he ought to take care not to join: any displeasing or frightful Idea with it. If they come not to their Books with some Kind of Liking and Relish, ’tis no wonder their Thoughts should be perpetually shifting from what disgusts them; and seek better Entertainment in more pleasing 5 Objects, after which they will unavoidably be gadding. "Tis, I know, the usual Method of Tutors, to endeavour to procure Attention in their Scholars, and to fix their Minds to the Business in Hand, by Rebukes and Correc- tions, if they find them ever so little wandering. But such 10 Treatment is sure to produce the quite contrary Effect. Passionate Words or Blows from the Tutor fill the Child’s Mind with Terror and Affrightment, which immediately takes it wholly up, and leaves no Room for other Impres- sions. I believe there is no body that reads this, but may 15 recollect what Disorder hasty or imperious Words from his Parents or Teachers have caused in his Thoughts; how for the Time it has turned his Brains, so that he scarce knew what was said by or to him. He presently lost the Sight of what he was upon, his Mind was filled with Disorder and 20 Confusion, and in that State was no longer capable of Attention to any thing else. Tis true, Parents and Governors ought to settle and establish their Authority by an Awe over the Minds of those under their Tuition; and to rule them by that: But when they have got an Ascendant over them, they should use it with great Moderation, and not make themselves such Scare-crows that their Scholars should always tremble in their Sight. Such an Austerity may make their Govern- ment easy to themselves, but of very little use to their 30 Pupils. ’Tis impossible Children should learn any thing whilst their Thoughts are possessed and disturbed with any Passion, especially Fear, which makes the strongest Impres- sion on their yet tender and weak Spirits. Keep the Mind in an easy calm Temper, when you would have it receive 35 your Instructions or any Increase of Knowledge. ’Tis as impossible to draw fair and regular Characters on a trem- bling Mind as on a shaking Paper. The great Skill of a Teacher is to get and keep the Attention of his Scholar ; whilst he has that, he is sure to 40 advance as fast as the Learner's Abilities will carry him; nN 5 144 Deal gently with Children. [§ 167 and without that, all his Bustle and Pother will be to little or no Purpose. To attain this, he should make the Child comprehend (as much as may be) the Usefulness of what he teaches him, and let him see, by what he has learnt, 5 that he can do something which he could not do before ; something, which gives him some Power and real Advan- tage above others who are ignorant of it. To this he should add Sweetness in all his Instructions, and by a certain Tenderness in his whole Carriage, make the Child sensible 10 that he loves him and designs nothing but his Good, the only way to beget Love in the Child, which will make him hearken to his Lessons, and relish what he teaches him. Nothing but Obstinacy should meet with any Imperious- ness or rough Usage. All other Faults should be corrected 15 with a gentle Hand; and kind engaging Words will work better and more effectually upon a willing Mind, and even prevent a good deal of that Perverseness which rough and imperious Usage often produces in well disposed and gene- rous Minds. ’Tis true, Obstinacy and wilful Neglects must 20 be mastered, even though it cost Blows to do it: But I am apt to think Perverseness in the Pupils is often the Effect of Frowardness in the Zor, and that most Children would seldom have deserved Blows, if needless and misapplied Roughness had not taught them Ill-nature, and given them 25 an Aversion for their Teacher and all that comes from him. ——Tfadvertency, Forgetfulness, Unsteadiness, and Wand- \ ring of Thought, are the natural Faults of Childhood ; and therefore, where they are not observed to be wilful, are to be mention’d softly, and gain’d upon by Time. If every 30 Slip of this kind produces Anger and Rating, the Occasions of Rebuke and Corrections will return so often, that the Tutor will be a constant Terror and Uneasiness to his Pupils. Which one thing is enough to hinder their profiting by his Lessons, and to defeat all his Methods of Instruc- 35 tion Let the Awe he has got upon their Minds be so tem- pered with the constant Marks of Tenderness and Good- will, that Affection may spur them to their Duty, and make them find a Pleasure in complying with his Dictates. This 40 will bring them with Satisfaction to their Tutor ; make them hearken to him, as to one who is their Friend, that cherishes §§167,1 68] Language-learning without Grammar. 145 them, and takes Pains for their Good : This will keep their Thoughts easy and free whilst they are with him, the only Temper wherein the Mind is capable of receiving new Informations, and of admitting into it self those Impres- sions, which, if not taken and retained, all that they and 5 their Teachers do together is lost Labour; there is much Uneasiness and little Learning. § 168. When by this Way of interlining Za#in and Lnglish one with another, he has got a moderate Know- ledge of the Latin Zongue, he may then be advanced a 10 little farther to the reading of some other easy Za#zn-Book, such as Justin or Eutropius; and to make the Reading and Understanding of it the less tedious and difficult to him, let him help himself if he please with the £ng/is~ Translation. Nor let the Objection that he will then know it only by 15 rote, fright any one. This, when well consider’d, is not of any Moment against, but plainly for this Way of learning a Language. For Languages are only to be learned by rote; and a Man who does not speak Znglish or Latin perfectly by rote, so that having thought of the thing he would speak 20 of, his Tongue of Course, without Thought of Rule or Grammar, falls into the proper Expression and Idiom of that Language, does not speak it well, nor is Master of it. And I would fain have any one name to me that Tongue, that any one can learn, or speak as he should do, by the 25 Rules of Grammar. Languages were made not by Rules or Art, but by Accident, and the common Use of the People. And he that will speak them well, has no other Rule but that; nor any thing to trust to, but his Memory, and the Habit of speaking after the Fashion learned {rom those, 30 that are allowed to speak properly, which in other Words is only to speak by rote. It will possibly be asked here, is Grammar then of no Use? and have those who have taken so much Pains in reducing several Languages to Rules and Observations; 35 who have writ so much about Declensions and Conjugations, about Concords and Syntaxis, lost their Labour, and been learned to no purpose? I say not so; Grammar has its Place too. But this I think I may say, There is more stir a great deal made with it than there needs, and those are 40 tormented about it, to whom it does not at all belong; I Q. 10 146 Grammar, by whom needed. [§ 168 mean Children, at the Age wherein they are usually per- plexed with it in Grammar-Schools. There is nothing more evident, than that Languages learnt by rote serve well enough for the common Affairs of 5 Life and ordinary Commerce. Nay, Persons of Quality of the softer Sex, and such of them as have spent their Time in well-bred Company, shew us, that this plain natural Way, without the least Study or Knowledge of Grammar, can carry them to a great Degree of Elegancy and Politeness 10 in their Language: And there are Ladies who, without knowing what Zenses and Participles, Adverbs and Preposi- Zions are, speak as properly and as correctly (they might take it for an ill Compliment if I said as any Country School-Master) as most Gentlemen who have been bred up 15 in the ordinary Methods of Grammar-Schools. Grammar therefore we see may be spared in some Cases. The Ques- tion then will be, To whom should it be taught, and when? To this I answer; 1. Men learn Languages for the ordinary Intercourse 20 of Society and Communication of Thoughts in common Life, without any farther Design in the Use of them. And for this Purpose, the original Way of learning a Language by Conversation not only serves well enough, but is to be preferred as the most expedite, proper and natural. There- 25 fore, to this Use of Language one may answer, That Gram- mar is not necessary. This so many of my Readers must be forced to allow, as understand what I here say, and who conversing with others, understand them without having ever been taught the Grammar of the ZEng/isis Tongue. 30 Which I suppose is the Case of incomparably the greatest Part of English Men, of whom I have never yet known any one who learned his Mother-Tongue by Rules. 2. Others there are, the greatest part of whose Busi- ness in this World is to be done with their Tongues and 35 with their Pens; and to these it is convenient, if not neces- sary, that they should speak properly and correctly, whereby they may let their Thoughts into other Men’s Minds the more easily, and with the greater Impression. Upon this account it is, that any sort of Speaking, so as will make 40 him be understood, is not thought enough for a Gentleman. He ought to study Grammar amongst the other Helps of § 168] Grammar of the Mother Tongue. 147 speaking well, but it must be the Grammar of his own Tongue, of the Language he uses, that he may understand his own Country Speech nicely, and speak it properly, without shocking the Ears of those it is addressed to, with Solecisms and offensive Irregularities. And to this Purpose 5 Grammar is necessary ; but it is the Grammar only of their own proper Tongues, and to those only who would take Pains in cultivating their Language, and in perfecting their Stiles. Whether all Gentlemen should not do this, I leave to be considered, since the want of Propriety and gram- 10 matical Exactness is thought very misbecoming one of that Rank, and usually draws on one guilty of such Faults the Censure of having had a lower Breeding and worse Com- pany than suits with his Quality. If this be so, (as I suppose it is) it will be Matter of Wonder why young 15 Gentlemen are forced to learn the Grammars of foreign and dead Languages, and are never once told of the Grammar of their own Tongues: They do not so much as know there is any such thing, much less is it made their Business to be instructed in it. Nor is their own Language ever 20 proposed to them as worthy their Care and cultivating, though they have daily Use of it, and are not seldom, in the future Course of their Lives, judg’d of by their handsome or awkward way of expressing themselves in it. Whereas the Languages whose Grammars they have been so much 25 employed in, are such as probably they shall scarce ever speak or write ; or if, upon Occasion, this should happen, they should be excused for the Mistakes and Faults they make in it. Would not a C/inese who took notice of this way of Breeding, be apt to imagine that all our young 30 Gentlemen were designed to be Teachers and Professors of the dead Languages of foreign Countries, and not to be Men of Business in their own? 3. There is a third Sort of Men, who apply themselves to two or three foreign, dead, and (which amongst us are 35 called the) learned Languages, make them their Study, and pique themselves upon their Skill in them. No doubt, those who propose to themselves the learning of any Lan- guage with this View, and would be critically exact in it, ought carefully to study the Grammar of it. I would not 40 be mistaken here, as if this were to undervalue Gree and I10—2 148 Grammar, when to be taught. [§ 168 Latin. 1 grant these are Languages of great Use and Excellency, and a Man can have no place among the Learned in this Part of the World, who is a Stranger to them. But the Knowledge a Gentleman would ordinarily 5 draw for his Use out of the Roman and Greek Writers, I think he may attain without studying the Grammars of those Tongues, and by bare reading, may come to under- stand them sufficiently for all his Purposes. How much farther he shall at any time be concerned to look into the 10 Grammar and critical Niceties of either of these Tongues, he himself will be able to determine when he comes to pro- pose to himself the Study of any thing that shall require it. Which brings me to the other Part of the Enquiry, zzz. When Grammar should be taught? 15 To which, upon the premised Grounds, the Answer is obvious, zzz. That if Grammar ought to be taught at any time, it must be to one that can speak the Language already; how else can he be taught the Grammar of it? This at least is 20 evident from the Practice of the wise and learned Nations amongst the Antients. They made it a Part of Education to cultivate their own, not foreign Tongues. The Greeks counted all other Nations barbarous, and had a Contempt for their Languages. And tho’ the Greek Learning grew in 25 Credit amongst the Romans, towards the End of their Com- monwealth, yet it was the Roman Tongue that was made the Study of their Youth: Their own Language they were to make use of, and therefore it was their own Language they were instructed and exercised in. 30 But, more particularly to determine the proper Season for Grammar, I do not see how it can reasonably be made any one’s Study, but as an Introduction to Rhetorick; when it is thought Time to put any one upon the Care of polish- ing his Tongue, and of speaking better than the Illiterate, 35 then is the Time for him to be instructed in the Rules of Grammar, and not before. For Grammar being to teach Men not to speak, but to speak correctly and according to the exact Rules of the Tongue, which is one Part of Ele- gancy, there is little Use of the one to him that has no §§168—170]WordsandThings. NoLatinThemes. 149 Need of the other; where Rhetorick is not necessary, Grammar may be spared. I know not why any one should waste his Time, and beat his Head about the Za#z Grammar, who does not intend to be a Critick, or make Speeches and write Dispatches in it. When any one finds in himself a 5 Necessity or Disposition to study any foreign Language to the bottom, and to be nicely exact in the Knowledge of it, it will be time enough to take a grammatical Survey of it. If his use of it be only to understand some Books writ in it, without a critical Knowledge of the Tongue itself, reading ro alone, as I have said, will attain this End, without charging the Mind with the multiplied Rules and Intricacies of Grammar. § 169. For the Exercise of his Writing, let him some- times translate Latin into English: But the learning of 15 Latin being nothing but the learning of Words, a very un- pleasant Business both to young and old, join as much other real Knowledge with it as you can, beginning still with that which lies most obvious to the Senses; such as is the Knowledge of Minerals, Plants and Animals, and 20 particularly Timber and Fruit-Trees, their Parts, and Ways of Propagation, wherein a great deal may be taught a Child which will not be useless to the Man: But more especially Geography, Astronomy, and Anatomy. But whatever you are teaching him, have a care still that you do not clog him 25 with too much at once; or make any thing his Business but downright Virtue, or reprove him for any thing but Vice, or some apparent Tendency to it. § 170. But if after all his Fate be to go to School to get the Zatin Tongue, ’twill be in vain to talk to you 30 concerning the Method I think best to be observ’d in Schools; you must submit to that you find there, not expect to have it changed for your Son; but yet by all Means obtain, if you can, that he be not employed in making Latin Themes and Declamations, and least of all, Verses 35 of any Kind. You may insist on it, if it will do any good, that you have no Design to make him either a Za#n Orator or Poet, but barely would have him understand perfectly a Latin Author; and that you observe, those who teach any of the modern Languages, and that with Success, never 40 amuse their Scholars to make Speeches or Verses either in 150 Against Latin Themes. [§§ 170—172 French or Italian, their Business being Language barely, and not Invention. os § 171. But to tell you a little more fully 7 why I would not have him exercised in making 5 of Z%emes and Verses. 1. As to Themes, they have, 1 confess, the Pretence of something useful, which is to teach People to speak handsomly and well on any Subject ; which, if it could be attained this way, I own would be a great Advantage, there being nothing more becoming a Gentleman, 10 nor more useful in all the Occurrences of Life, than to be able, on any Occasion, to speak well and to the Purpose. But this I say, that the making of ZVemes, as is usual at Schools, helps not one Jot towards it: For do but consider what it is, in making a Z%eme, that a young Lad is employed 15 about; it is to make a Speech on some Za#z Saying; as Omnia vincit amor; or Non licet in Bello bis peccare, &e. And here the poor Lad, who wants Knowledge of those Things he is to speak of, whichis to be had only from Time and Observation, must set his Invention on the Rack, to say 20 something where he knows nothing; which is a sort of Egyptian Tyranny, to bid them make Bricks who have not yet any of the Materials. And therefore it is usual in such Cases for the poor Children to go to those of higher Forms with this Petition, Pray give me a little Sense ; which, whether 25 it be more reasonable or more ridiculous, is not easy to determine. Before a Man can be in any Capacity to speak on any Subject, ’tis necessary he be acquainted with it; or else it is as foolish to set him to discourse of it, as to set a blind Man to talk of Colours, or a deaf Man of Musick. 30 And would you not think him a little crack’d, who would require another to make an Argument on a moot Point, who understands nothing of our Laws? And what, I pray, do School-Boys understand concerning those Matters which are used to be proposed to them in their Z%emes as Subjects to 35 discourse on, to whet and exercise their Fancies? § 172. In the next Place, consider the Language that their Z%emes are made in: 'Tis Latin, a Language foreign in their Country, and long since dead every where: A Language which your Son, ’tis a thousand to one, shall 40 never have an Occasion once to make a Speech in as long as he lives after he comes to be a Man; and a Language §§172,173] Speakingextempore. English Themes.151 wherein the Manner of expressing one’s self is so far differ- ent from ours, that to be perfect in that would very little improve the Purity and Facility of his English Stile. Besides that, there is now so little Room or Use for set Speeches in our own Language in any Part of our English Business, 5 that I can see no Pretence for this Sort of Exercise in our Schools, unless it can be supposed, that the making of set Latin Speeches should be the Way to teach Men to speak well in English extempore. The Way to that, I should think rather to be this: That there should be propos’d to young 10 Gentlemen rational and useful Questions, suited to their Age and Capacities, and on Subjects not wholly unknown to them nor out of their Way: Such as these, when they are ripe for Exercises of this Nature, they should extempore, or after a little Meditation upon the Spot, speak to, without penning of any thing: For I ask, if we will examine the Effects of this Way of learning to speak well, who speak best in any Business, when Occasion calls them to it upon any Debate, either those who have accustomed themselves to compose and write down beforehand what they would say; 20 or those, who thinking only of the Matter, to understand that as well as they can, use themselves only to speak extempore? And he that shall judge by this, will be little apt to think, that the accustoming him to studied Speeches and set Compositions, is the Way to fit a young Gentleman for Business. § 173. But perhaps we shall be told, ’tis to improve and perfect them in the Latin Tongue. Tis true, that is their proper Business at School; but the making of Z%emes is not the Way to it: That perplexes their Brains about Invention 30 of things to be said, not about the Signification of Words to be learn’d; and when they are making a Zheme, tis Thoughts they search and sweat for, and not Language. But the Learning and Mastery of a Tongue being uneasy and unpleasant enough in itself, should not be cumbred with any 35 other Difficulties, as is done in this way of proceeding. In fine, if Boys’ Invention be to be quicken’d by such Exercise, let them make Z%emes in English, where they have Facility and a Command of Words, and will better see what kind of Thoughts they have, when put into their own Language. 40 And if the Latin Tongue be to be learned, let it be done - 5 ‘NN 5 152 No Steps to Parnassus. [§§ 173, 174 the easiest Way, without toiling and disgusting the Mind by so uneasy an Employment as that of making Speeches joined to it. § 174. If these may be any Reasons against Children’s making Zain Themes at School, I have much more to say, and of more Weight, against their making Verses; Verses of any Sort: For if he has no Genius to Poetry, 'tis the most unreasonable thing in the World to torment a Child and waste his Time about that which can 10 never succeed; and if he have a poetick Vein, ’tis to me the strangest thing in the World that the Father should de- sire or suffer it to be cherished or improved. Methinks the Parents should labour to have it stifled and suppressed as much as may be; and I know not what Reason a Father 15 can have to wish his Son a Poet, who does not desire to have him bid Defiance to all other Callings and Business; which is not yet the worst of the Case; for if he proves a suc- cessful Rhymer, and gets once the Reputation of a Wit, I desire it may be considered what Company and Places he 20 is like to spend his Time in, nay, and Estate too: For it is very seldom seen, that any one discovers Mines of Gold or Silver in Parnassus. Tis a pleasant Air, but a barren Soil; and there are very few Instances of those who have added to their Patrimony by any thing they have reaped from thence. 25 Poetry and Gaming, which usually go together, are alike in this too, that they seldom bring any Advantage but to those who have nothing else to live on. Men of Estates almost constantly go away Losers; and ’tis well if they escape at a cheaper rate than their whole Estates, or the greatest Part of 30 them. If therefore you would not have your Son the Fiddle to every jovial Company, without whom the Sparks could not relish their Wine nor know how to pass an Afternoon idly ; if you would not have him to waste his Time and Estate to divert others, and contemn the dirty Acres left him 35 by his Ancestors, I do not think you will much care he should be a Poet, or that his School-master should enter him in versifying. But yet, if any one will think Poetry a desirable Quality in his Son, and that the Study of it would raise his Fancy and Parts, he must needs yet confess, that to 40 that End reading the excellent Greek and Roman Poets is of more Use than making bad Verses of his own, in a Lan- 5 Verses, 88 174—176] Against much learning by heart. 153 guage that is not his own. And he whose Design it is to ex- cel in English Poetry, would not, I guess, think the Way to it were to make his first Essays in Latin Verses. § 175. Another thing very ordinary in the vulgar Method of Grammar-Schools there is, of which I see no ; 5 Use at all, unless it be to baulk young Lads in "rr. the Way to learning Languages, which, in my Opinion, should be made as easy and pleasant as may be; and that which was painful in it, as much as possible quite removed. That which I mean, and here complain of, is, their being 10 forced to learn by heart, great Parcels of the Authors which are taught them; wherein I can discover no Advantage a all, especially to the Business they are upon. Language are to be learned only by Reading and Talking, and not b Scraps of Authors got by heart ; which when a Man’s Head\t5 is stuffed with, he has got the just Furniture of a Pedant, and ’tis the ready Way to make him one; than which there is nothing less becoming a Gentleman. For what can be more ridiculous, than to mix the rich and handsome Thoughts and Sayings of others with a deal of poor Stuff of his own ; 20 which is thereby the more exposed, and has no other Grace in it, nor will otherwise recommend the Speaker, than a thread-bare Russet Coat would, that was set off with large Patches of Scarlet and glittering Brocade. Indeed, where a Passage comes in the way, whose Matter is worth Remem- 25 brance, and the Expression of it very close and excellent, (as there are many such in the antient Authors) it may not be amiss to lodge it in the Mind of young Scholars, and with such admirable Strokes of those great Masters sometimes exercise the Memories of School-Boys. But their learning of 30 their Lessons by Heart, as they happen to fall out in their Books, without Choice or Distinction, I know not what it serves for, but to mispend their Time and Pains, and give them a Disgust and Aversion to their Books, wherein they find nothing but useless Trouble. 35 § 176. 1 bear it is said, That Children should be em- ploy’d in getting things by heart, to exercise and improve their Memories. I could wish this were said with as much Authority of Reason, as it is with Forwardness of Assurance, and that this Practice were established upon good Observa- 40 tion more than old Custom : For it is evident, that Strength 154 Memory a natural Gift. [§ 176 of Memory is owing to an happy Constitution, and not to any habitual Improvement got by Exercise. ’Tis true, what the Mind is intent upon, and, for fear of letting it slip, often im- prints afresh on itself by frequent Reflection, that it is apt to 5 retain, but still according to its own natural Strength of Reten- tion. An Impression made on Bees-wax or Lead, will not last so long as on Brass or Steel. Indeed, if it be renew’d often, it may last the longer; but every new reflecting on it is a new Impression; and ’tis from thence one is to reckon, 10 if one would know how long the Mind retains it. But the learning Pages of Latin by Heart, no more fits the Memory or Retention of any thing else, than the graving of one entence in Lead makes it the more capable of retaining rmly any other Characters. If such a sort of Exercise of 15 the Memory were able to give it Strength, and improve our Parts, Players of all other People must needs have the best Memories and be the best Company. But whether the Scraps they have got into their Heads this way, make them remember other things the better ; and whether their Parts 20 be improved proportionably to the Pains they have taken in getting by heart others’ Sayings, Experience will shew. Memory is so necessary to all Parts and Conditions of Life, and so little is to be done without it, that we are not to fear it should grow dull and useless for want of Exercise, if Ex- 25 ercise would make it grow stronger. But I fear this Faculty of the Mind is not capable of much Help and Amendment in general by any Exercise or Endeavour of ours, at least not by that used upon this Pretence in Grammar-Schools. And if Xerxes was able to call every common Soldier by 30 Name in his Army that consisted of no less than an hundred thousand Men, I think it may be guessed, he got not this wonderful Ability by learning his Lessons by heart when he was a Boy. This Method of exercising and improving the Memory by toilsome Repetitions without Book of what they 35 read, is, I think, little used in the Education of Princes, which if it had that Advantage is talked of, should be as little neglected in them as in the meanest School-Boys : Princes having as much need of good Memories as any Men living, and have generally an equal Share in-this Faculty 40 with other Men; though it has never been taken care of this Way. What the Mind is intent upon and careful of, that it | §§ 176, 177] How to exercise Memory. ass [remembers best, and for the Reason above-mentioned : To which, if Method and Order be joined, all is done, I think, that can be, for the Help of a weak Memory; and he that will take any other Way to do it, especially that of charging it with a Train of other Peoples’ Words, which he that learns 5 cares not for, will, I guess, scarce find the Profit answer half the Time and Pains employ’d in it. I do not mean hereby, that there should be no Exercise given to Children’s Memories. I think their Memories should be employ’d, but not in learning by rote whole 10 Pages out of Books, which, the Lesson being once said, and that Task over, are delivered up again to Oblivion and neglected for ever. This mends neither the Memory no the Mind. What they should learn by heart out of ny I have above mentioned: And such wise and useful Sen- 15 tences being once given in charge to their Memories, they should never be suffer’d to forget again, but be often called to account for them ; whereby, besides the Use those Say- ings may be to them in their future Life, as so many good Rules and Observations, they will be taught to reflect 20 often, and bethink themselves what they have to remember, which is the only way to make the Memory quick and useful. The Custom of frequent Reflection will keep their Minds from running adrift, and call their Thoughts home from useless unattentive Roving: And therefore I think 25 it may do well, to give them something every Day to remember, but something still, that is in itself worth the remembring, and what you would never have out of Mind, whenever you call, or they themselves search for it. This will oblige them often to turn their Thoughts inwards, than 30 which you cannot wish them a better intellectual habit. § 177. But under whose Care soever a Child is put to be taught during the tender and flexible Years ; of his Life, this is certain, it should be one “** : who thinks Zatin and Language the least Part of Educa- 35 tion; one who knowing how much Virtue and a well temper'd Soul is to be preferred to any sort of Learning or Language, makes it his chief Business to form the Mind of his Scholars, and give that a right Disposition; which if once got, though all the rest should be neglected, would in 40 due Time produce all the rest; and which, if it be not 156 Latin Bible. Tutor again. [§§ 177, 178 got and settled so as to keep out ill and vicious Habits, Languages and Sciences and all the other Accomplishments of Education, will be to no Purpose but to make the worse or more dangerous Man. And indeed whatever Stir there . 5 is made about getting of Latin as the great and difficult Business, his Mother may teach it him herself, if she will but spend two or three Hours in a Day with him, and make him read the Evangelists in Za#in to her: For she need but buy a Za#in Testament, and having got some 10 body to mark the last Syllable but one where it is long in Words above two Syllables, (which is enough to regulate her Pronunciation, and Accenting the Words) read daily in the Gospels, and then let her avoid understanding them in Latin if she can. And when she understands the Evan- 15 gelists in Zain, let her, in the same Manner read Zsop’s Fables, and so proceed on to Eutropius, Justin, and other such Books. I do not mention this, as an Imagination of what I fancy may do, but as of a thing I have known done, and the Zatin Tongue with Ease got this way. ; 20 But, to return to what 1 was saying: He that takes on him the Charge of bringing up young Men, especially young Gentlemen, should have something more in him than Zatin, more than even a Knowledge in the Liberal Sciences: He should be a Person of eminent Virtue and 25 Prudence, and with good Sense, have good Humour, and the Skill to carry himself with Gravity, Ease and Kindness, in a constant Conversation with his Pupils. But of this I have spoken at large in another Place. § 178. At the same Time that he is learning French 30 and Zatin, a Child, as has been said, may also be enter'd in Arithmetick, Geography, Chronology, History, and Geo- metry too. For if these be taught him in French or Latin, when he begins once to understand either of these Tongues, he will get a Knowledge in these Sciences, and the Lan- 35 guage to boot. Geography 1 think should be begun with: For the | learning of the Figure of the Globe, the Situa- tion and Boundaries of the four Parts of the World, and that of particular Kingdoms and Countries, 40 being only an Exercise of the Eyes and Memory, a Child with Pleasure will learn and retain them. And this is so . Geography. §§ 178—180] Use of the Globes. Arithmetic. 157 certain, that I now live in the House with a Child whom his Mother has so well instructed this Way in Geography, that he knew the Limits of the four Parts of the World, could readily point, being ask’d, to any Country upon the Globe, or any County in the Map of England; knew all 5 the great Rivers, Promontories, Straits and Bays in the World, and could find the Longitude and Latitude of any Place, before he was six Years old. These things, that he will thus learn by Sight, and have by rote in his Memory, are not all, I confess, that he is to learn upon the Gldes. 10 But yet it is a good Step and Preparation to it, and will make the Remainder much easier, when his Judgment is grown ripe enough for it: Besides that, it gets so much Time now ; and by the Pleasure of knowing Things, leads him on insensibly to the gaining of Languages. I : § 179. When he has the natural Parts of the Globe well fix'd in his Memory, it may then be time to begin Azithmetick. By the natural Parts of the Globe, T mean the several Positions of the Parts of the Earth and Sea, under different Names and Distinctions of 20 Countries, not coming yet to those artificial and imaginary Lines which have been invented, and are only suppos’d for the better Improvement of that Science. § 180. Arithmetick is the easiest, and consequently the first Sort of abstract Reasoning, which the Mind commonly 25 bears or accustoms itself to: And is of so general Use in all Parts of Life and Business, that scarce any Thing is to be done without it. This is certain, a Man cannot have too much of it, nor too perfectly: He should theretore begin to be exercis'd in Counting, as soon, and as far, as he 30 is capable of it; and do something in it every Day, till he is Master of the Art of Numbers. When he understands Addition and Subtraction, he then may be advanced farther in Geography, after he is acquainted with the Poles, Zones, Parallel Circles, and Meridians, be taught Longitude and 35 Latitude, and by them be made to understand the Use of Maps, and by the Numbers placed on their Sides, to know the respective Situation of Countries, and how to find them out on the Terrestrial Globe. Which when he can readily do, he may then be entered in the Celestial; and there going over all the Circles again, with Arithmetick. Astronomy, 49 158 Astronomy. Geometry. [§§ 180, 181 a more particular Observation of the Ecliptick, or Zodiack, to fix them all very clearly and distinctly in his Mind, he may be taught the Figure and Position of the several Con- stellations, which may be shewed him first upon the Globe, 5 and then in the Heavens. When that is done, and he knows pretty well the Con- stellations of this our Hemisphere, it may be time to give him some Notions of this our planetary World; and to that Purpose, it may not be amiss to make him a Draught 10 of the Copernican System, and therein explain to him the Situation of the Planets, their respective Distances from the Sun, the Centre of their Revolutions. This will pre- pare him to understand the Motion and Theory of the Planets, the most easy and natural Way. For since Astro- 15 nomers no longer doubt of the Motion of the Planets about the Sun, it is fit he should proceed upon that Hypothesis, which is not only the simplest and least perplexed for a Learner, but also the likeliest to be true in itself. But in this, as in all other Parts of Instruction, great Care must 20 be taken with Children, to begin with that which is plain and simple, and to teach them as little as can be at once, and settle that well in their Heads before you proceed to the next, or any thing new in that Science. Give them first one simple Idea, and see that they take it right, and 25 perfectly comprehend it before you go any farther, and then add some other simple Idea which lies next in your Way to what you aim at; and so proceeding by gentle and insen- sible Steps, Children without Confusion and Amazement will have their Understandings opened and their Thoughts 30 extended farther than could have been expected. And when any one has learn’d any thing himself, there is no such Way to fix it in his Memory, and to encourage him to go on, as to set him to teach it others. § 181. When he has once got such an acquaintance with the Globes, as is abovementioned, he may be fit to be tried in a little Geometry ; wherein I think the six first Books of Euc/id enough for him to be taught. For I am in some doubt, whether more to a Man of Business be necessary or useful. At least, if he have a 40 Genius and Inclination to it, being enter’d so far by his Tutor, he will be able to go on of himself without a Teacher. 35 Geometry. §§ 181—183] The Globes. Chronology. 159 The Globes therefore must be studied, and that dili- gently ; and I think may be begun betimes, if the Tutor will be but careful to distinguish what the Child is capable of knowing, and what not; for which this may be a Rule that perhaps will go a pretty way, zzz. that Children may be 35 taught any Thing that falls under their Senses, especially their Sight, as far as their Memories only are exercised: And thus a Child very young may learn, which is the Aguator, which the Meridian, &c. which Europe, and which England, upon the Globes, as soon almost as he 10 knows the Rooms of the House he lives in, if Care be taken not to teach him too much at once, nor to set him upon a new Part, till that which he is upon be perfectly learned and fixed in his Memory. _ § 182, With Geography, C/ronology ought to go hand 15 in hand. I mean the general Part of it, so that he may have in his Mind a View of the whole Current of Time, and the several considerable Zpocks that are made use of in History. Without these two, History, which is the great Mistress of Prudence and civil Know- 20 ledge, and ought to be the proper Study of a Gentleman, or Man of Business in the World; without Geography and Chronology, 1 say, History will be very ill retain’d, and very little useful; but be only a Jumble of Matters of Fact, confusedly heaped together without Order or Instruction. 25 Tis by these two that the Actions of Mankind are ranked into their proper Places of Time and Countries, under which Circumstances they are not only much easier kept in the Memory, but in that natural Order, are only capable to afford those Observations which make a Man the better 30 and the abler for reading them. § 183. When I speak of Chronology as a Science he should be perfect in, I do not mean the little Controversies that are in it. These are endless, and most of them of so little Importance to a Gentleman, as not to deserve to be 35 enquir’d into, were they capable of an easy Decision. And therefore all that learned Noise and Dust of the Chrono- logist is wholly to be avoided. The most useful Book I have seen in that Part of Learning, is a small Treatise of Strauchius, which is printed in Twelves, under the Title of 40 Breviarium Chronologicum, out of which may be selected all Chronology. 160 History. Ethics. [§§ 183—185 that is necessary to be taught a young Gentleman concern- ing Chronology; for all that is in that Treatise a Learner need not be cumbred with. He has in him the most remarkable or useful Zpocks reduced all to that of the 5 Fulian Period, which is the easiest and plainest and surest Method that can be made use of in Chronology. To this Treatise of Strauchius, Helvicus's Tables may be added, as a Book to be turned to on all Occasions. § 184. As nothing teaches, so nothing delights more than History. The first of these recommends it to the Study of grown Men, the latter makes me think it the fittest for a young Lad, who as soon as he is instructed in Chronology, and acquainted with the several Lpocks in use in this Part of the World, and can reduce 15 them to the Fuwlian Period, should then have some Latin History put into his Hand. The Choice should be directed by the Easiness of the Stile; for whereever he begins, Chronology will keep it from Confusion ; and the Pleasant- ness of the Subject inviting him to read, the Language will 20 insensibly be got without that terrible Vexation and Un- easiness which Children suffer where they are put into Books beyond their Capacity; such as are the Roman Orators and Poets, only to learn the Roman Language. When he has by reading master’d the easier, such perhaps 25 as Fustin, Eutropius, Quintius Curtius, Sc. the next Degree to these will give him no great Trouble: And thus by a gradual Progress from the plainest and easiest Historians, he may at last come to read the most difficult and sublime of the Latin Authors, such as are Zully, Virgi/, and 30 Horace. § 185. The Knowledge of Virtue, all along from the beginning, in all the Instances he is capable of, being taught him more by Practice than Rules; and the Love of Reputation, instead of satisfying his Appe- 35 tite, being made habitual in him, I know not whether he ‘should read any other Discourses of Morality but what he finds in the Bible; or have any System of £#zicks put into his Hand till he can read Zw//y’s Offices not as a School- Boy to learn Latin, but as one that would be informed in 40 the Principles and Precepts of Virtue for the Conduct of his Life. Io History. Ethicks. 's 186, 187] Gentleman’s Study of Law. 161 ~ § 186. When he has pretty well digested Z'%/ly’s Offices, and added to it, Puffendorf de Officio Hominis & Civis, it may be seasonable to set him upon Grotius de Fure Belli & Pacis, or, which perhaps is the better of the two, Puffendorf de Fure naturali & Gentium; 5 wherein he will be instructed in the natural Rights of Men, and the Original and Foundations of Society, and the Duties resulting from thence. This general Part of Civil- Law and History, are Studies which a Gentleman should not barely touch at, but constantly dwell upon, and never 10 have done with. A virtuous and well-behaved young Man, that is well-versed in the general Part of the Civil-Law (which concerns not the Chicane of private Cases, but the Affairs and Intercourse of civilized Nations in general, grounded upon Principles of Reason) understands Zatz 15 well, and can write a good Hand, one may turn loose into the World with great Assurance that he will find Employ- ment and Esteem every where. § 187. It would be strange to suppose an Lnglish Gentleman should be ignorant of the Zaw of 7 20 his Country. This, whatever Station he is in, a. is so requisite, that from a Justice of the Peace to a Minister of State I know no Place he can well fill with- out it. I do not mean the chicane or wrangling and captious Part of the Law: A Gentleman, whose Business 25 is to seek the true Measures of Right and Wrong, and not the Arts how to avoid doing the one, and secure him- self in doing the other, ought to be as far from such a Study of the Law, as he is concerned diligently to apply himself to that wherein he may be serviceable to his 30 Country. And to that Purpose, I think the right Way for a Gentleman to study owr Law, which he does not design for his Calling, is to take a View of our English Constitu- tion and Government in the antient Books of the Common- Law, and some more modern Writers, who out of them 35 have given an Account of this Government. And having got a true Idea of that, then to read our History, and with it join in every King’s Reign the Zaws then made. This will give an Insight into the Reason of our Statutes, and shew the true Ground upon which they came to be made, 40 and what Weight they ought to have. Q. 11 Civil-Law. 162 Rhetoric & Logic. No Disputations. [§§ 188, 189 § 188. Rhetorick and Logick being the Arts that in the ordinary Method usually follow immediately Rhetorick. after Grammar, it may perhaps be wondered © that I have said so little of them. The Reason 5 is, because of the little Advantage young People receive by them: For I have seldom or never observed any one to get the Skill of Reasoning well, or speaking handsomely, by studying those Rules which pretend to teach it: And there- fore I would have a young Gentleman take a View of them 70 in the shortest Systems could be found, without dwelling long on the Contemplation and Study of those Formalities. Right Reasoning is founded on something else than the Predicaments and Predicables, and does not consist in talk- ing in Mode and Figure it self. But ’tis beside my present 15 Business to enlarge upon this Speculation. To come there- fore to what we have in hand ; if you would have your Son reason well, let him read Chillingworth ; and if you would have him speak well, let him be conversant in 7%//y, to give him the true dea of Eloquence; and let him read those 20 Things that are well writ in Ezglisk, to perfect his Style in the Purity of our Language. § 189. If the Use and End of right Reasoning, be to have right Notions and a right Judgment of Things, to distinguish betwixt Truth and Falshood, Right and Wrong, 25 and to act accordingly ; be sure not to let your Son be bred up in the Art and Formality of disputing, either practising it himself, or admiring it in others; unless instead of an able Man, you desire to have him an insignificant Wrangler, Opiniator in Discourse, and priding himself in contradicting 30 others; or, which is worse, questioning every Thing, and thinking there is no such Thing as Truth to be sought, but only Victory, in disputing. There cannot be any thing so disingenuous, so misbecoming a Gentleman or any one who pretends to be a rational Creature, as not to yield to 35 plain Reason and the Conviction of clear Arguments. Is there any thing more inconsistent with Civil Conversation, and the End of all Debate, than not to take an Answer, though never so full and satisfactory, but still to go on with the Dispute as long as equivocal Sounds can furnish (a 40 medius terminus) a Term to wrangle with on the one Side, or a Distinction on the other; whether pertinent or imper- § 189] Against School-Rhetoric. 163 tinent, Sense or Nonsence, agreeing with or contrary to what he had said before, it matters not. For this, in short, is the Way and Perfection of logical Disputes, that the Opponent never takes any Answer, nor the Respondent ever yields to any Argument. This neither of them must 5 do, whatever becomes of Truth or Knowledge, unless he will pass for a poor baffled Wretch, and lie under the Dis- grace of not being able to maintain whatever he has once affirm’d, which is the great Aim and Glory in disputing. Truth is to be found and supported by a mature and due 10 Consideration of Things themselves, and not by artificial Terms and Ways of arguing : These lead not Men so much into the Discovery of Truth, as into a captious and falla- cious Use of doubtful Words, which is the most useless and most offensive Way of talking, and such as least suits a 15 Gentleman or a Lover of Truth of any thing in the World. There can scarce be a greater Defect in a Gentleman than not to express himself well either in Writing or Speak- ing. But yet I think I may ask my Reader, whether he doth not know a great many, who live upon their Estates, 20 and so with the Name should have the Qualities of Gentle- men, who cannot so much as tell a Story as they should, much less speak clearly and persuasively in any Business. This I think not to be so much their Fault, as the Fault of their Education; for I must, without Partiality, do my 25 Countrymen this Right, that where they apply themselves, I see none of their Neighbours outgo them. They have been taught Rleforick, but yet never taught how to express themselves handsomely with their Tongues or Pens in the Language they are always to use; as if the Names of the 30 Figures that embellish’d the Discourses of those who understood the Art of Speaking, were the very Art and Skill of Speaking well. This, as all other Things of Prac- tice, is to be learn’d, not by a few or a great many Rules given, but by Exercise and Application according to good 35 Rules, or rather Patterns, till Habits are got, and a Facility of doing it well. Agreeable hereunto, perhaps it might not be amiss to make Children, as soon as they are capable of it, often to tell a Story of any Thing they know ; 2 40 and to correct at first the most remarkable Fault they are 11—2 164 Exercises in Speaking and Writing. [§ 189 guilty of in their Way of putting it together. When that Fault is cured, then to shew them the next, and so on, till one after another, all, at least the gross ones, are mended. When they can tell Tales pretty well, then it may be the 5 Time to make them write them. The Fables of .Zsop, the only Book almost that I know fit for Children, may afford them Matter for this Exercise of writing English, as well as for reading and translating, to enter them in the Latin Tongue. When they have got past the Faults of Grammar, 10 and can join in a continued coherent Discourse the several Parts of a Story, without bald and unhandsome Forms of Transition (as is usual) often repeated, he that desires to perfect them yet farther in this, which is the first Step to speaking well and needs no Invention, may have Recourse 15 to Zully, and by putting in Practice those Rules which that Master of Eloquence gives in his first Book de Znventione, § 20, make them know wherein the Skill and Graces of an handsome Narrative, according to the several Subjects and Designs of it, lie. Of each of which Rules fit Examples 20 may be found out, and therein they may be shewn how others have practised them. The antient Classick Authors afford Plenty of such Examples, which they should be made not only to translate, but have set before them as Patterns for their daily Imitation. 25 ~~ When they understand how to write English with due Connexion, Propriety, and Order, and are pretty well Masters of a tolerable narrative Style, they may be advanced to writing of Letters; wherein they should not be put upon any Strains of Wit or Compliment, but taught to express 30 their own plain easy Sense, without any Incoherence, Con- fusion or Roughness. And when they are perfect in this, they mays, to raise their Thoughts, have set before them the Example of Poitures, for the Entertainment of their Friends at a Distance, with Letters of Compliment, Mirth, Raillery 35 or Diversion; and Zw/ly’s Epistles, as the best Pattern whether for Business or Conversation. The writing of Letters has so much to do in all the Occurrences of human Letters. Life, that mo Gentleman can avoid shewing "himself in this kind of Writing. Occasions will 40 daily force him to make this Use of his Pen, which, besides the Consequences that, in his Affairs, his well or ill mana- § 189] Neglect of the Mother Tongue. 165 ging of it often draws after it, always lays him open to a severer Examination of his Breeding, Sense, and Abilities, than oral Discourses; whose transient Faults dying for the most Part with the Sound that gives them Life, and so not subject to a strict Review, more easily escape Obser- 5 vation and Censure. Had the Methods of Education been directed to their right End, one would have thought this so necessary a Part could not have been neglected whilst Themes and Verses in Latin, of no use at all, were so constantly every where 10 pressed, to the racking of Childrens Inventions beyond their Strength and hindering their chearful Progress in learning the Tongues by unnatural Difficulties. But Cus- tom has so ordain’d it, and who dares disobey? And would it not be very unreasonable to require of a learned Country 15 School-Master (who has all the Tropes and Figures in Farnaby's Rhetorick at his Fingers’ Ends) to teach his Scholar to express himself handsomely in English, when it appears to be so little his Business or Thought, that the Boy’s Mother (despised, ’tis like, as illiterate for not having 20 read a System of Logick and Rhetorick) outdoes him in it? To write and speak correctly gives a Grace and gains a favourable Attention to what one has to say: And since ’tis English that an English Gentleman will have constant use of, that is the Language he should chiefly cultivate, and 25 wherein most Care should be taken to polish and perfect his Style. To speak or write better Zatin than English, may make a Man be talk’d of, but he would find it more to his Purpose to express himself well in his own Tongue, that he uses every Moment, than to have the vain Com- 30 mendation of others for a very insignificant Quality. This I find universally neglected, and no Care taken any where to improve young Men in their own Language, that they may throughly understand and be Masters of it. If any one among us have a Facility or Purity more than ordinary 35 in his Mother Tongue, it is owing to Chance, or his Genius, or any thing rather than to his Education or any Care of his Teacher. To mind what Znglisk his Pupil speaks or writes, is below the Dignity of one bred up amongst Greek and Zatin, though he have but little of them himself. 40 These are the learned Languages fit only for learned Men 166 Foreign Examples. Natural Science. [§§ 189, 190 to meddle with and teach; English is the Language of the illiterate Vulgar: Tho’ yet we see the Polity of some of our Neighbours hath not thought it beneath the publick Care to promote and reward the Improvement of their own 5 Language. Polishing and enriching their Tongue is no small Business amongst them; it hath Colleges and Stipends appointed it, and there is raised amongst them a great Ambition and Emulation of writing correctly : And we see what they are come to by it, and how far they have spread 10 one of the worst Languages possibly in this Part of the World, if we look upon it as it was in some few Reigns backwards, whatever it be now. The great Men among the Romans were daily exercising themselves in their own Language; and we find yet upon Record the Names of 15 Orators, who taught some of their Emperors Zain, though it were their Mother Tongue. "Tis plain the Greeks were yet more nice in theirs. All other Speech was barbarous to them but their own, and no foreign Language appears to have been studied or valued 20 amongst that learned and acute People; tho’ it be past doubt that they borrowed their Learning and Philosophy from abroad. I am not here speaking against Greek and Latin; 1 think they ought to be studied, and the Zaz at least 25 understood well by every Gentleman. But whatever foreign Languages a young Man meddles with (and the more he knows the better) that which he should critically study, and labour to get a Facility, Clearness and Elegancy to express himself in, should be his own; and to this Purpose he 30 should daily be exercised in it. § 190. Natural Philosophy, as a speculative Science, I imagine we have none, and perhaps I may pagturel think I have Reason to say we never shall be able to make a Science of it. The Works of 35 Nature are contrived by a Wisdom, and operate by Ways too far surpassing our Faculties to discover or Capacities to conceive, for us ever to be able to reduce them into a Science. Natural Philosophy being the Knowledge of the Principles, Properties and Operations of Things as they are 40 in themselves, I imagine there are two Parts of it, one comprehending Spirits, with their Nature and Qualities, §§ 190, 191] Spirits and Bodies. Study of Bible. 167 and the other Bodies. - The first of these is usually referred to Metaphysicks : But under what Title soever the Considera- tion of Spirits comes, I think it ought to go before the Study of Matter and Body, not as a Science that can be methodized into a System, and treated of upon Principles 5 of Knowledge; but as an Enlargement of our Minds towards a truer and fuller Comprehension of the intellectual World to which we are led both by Reason and Revelation. And since the clearest and largest Discoveries we have of other Spirits, besides God and our own Souls, is imparted 10 to us from Heaven by Revelation, I think the Information that at least young People should have of them, should be taken from that Revelation. To this Purpose, I conclude, it would be well, if there were made a good History of the Bible, for young People to read; wherein if every Thing 15 that is fit to be put into it, were laid down in its due Order of Time, and several Things omitted which are suited only to riper Age, that Confusion which is usually produced by promiscuous reading of the Scripture, as it lies now bound up in our Bibles, would be avoided. And also this other zo Good obtained, that by reading of it constantly, there would be instilled into the Minds of Children a Notion and Belief of Spirits, they having so much to do in all the Transactions of that History, which will be a good Preparation to the Study of Bodies. For without the Notion and Allowance 25 of Spirit, our Philosophy will be lame and defective in one main Part of it, when it leaves out the Contemplation of the most excellent and powerful Part of the Creation. § 191. Of this History of the Bible, 1 think too it would be well if there were a short and plain Epitome made, 32 containing the chief and most material Heads, for Children to be conversant in as soon as they can read. This, though it will lead them early into some Notion of Spirits, yet it is not contrary to what I said above, That I would not have Children troubled, whilst young, with Notions of Spirits ; 35 whereby my Meaning was, That I think it inconvenient that their yet tender Minds should receive early Impressions of Goblins, Spectres, and Apparitions, wherewith their Maids and those about them are apt to fright them into a Com- pliance with their Orders, which often proves a great Incon- 40 venience to them all their Lives after, by subjecting their 168 Danger of Materialism. [§§ 191, 192 Minds to Frights, fearful Apprehensions, Weakness and Superstition ; which when coming abroad into the World and Conversation they grow weary and ashamed of, it not seldom happens, that to make, as they think, a thorough 5 Cure, and ease themselves of a Load which has sat so heavy on them, they throw away the Thoughts of all Spirits together, and so run into the other, but worse, extream. § 192. The Reason why I would have this premised to the Study of Bodies, and the Doctrine of the Scriptures well 10 imbibed before young Men be entered in Natural Fhilo- sophy, is, because Matter, being a thing that all our Senses are constantly conversant with, it is so apt to possess the Mind, and exclude all other Beings but Matter, that Preju- dice, grounded on such Principles, often leaves no room 15 for the Admittance of Spirits, or the allowing any such Things as immaterial Beings tn rerum natura; when yet it is evident that by mere Matter and Motion none of the great Phenomena of Nature can be resolved, to instance but in that common one of Gravity, which I think impos- 20 sible to be explained by any natural Operation of Matter, or any other Law of Motion, but the positive Will of a superior Being so ordering it. And therefore since the Deluge cannot be well explained without admitting some- thing out of the ordinary Course of Nature, I propose it to 25 be considered whether God’s altering the Centre of Gravity in the Earth for a Time (a Thing as intelligible as Gravity it self, which perhaps a little Variation of Causes unknown to us would produce) will not more easily account for Noak’s Flood than any Hypothesis yet made use of to go solve it. I hear the great Objection to this, is, that it would produce but a partial Deluge. But the Alteration of the Centre of Gravity once allowed, ’tis no hard Matter to conceive that the Divine Power might make the Centre of Gravity, plac’d at a due Distance from the Centre of the 35 Earth, move round it in a convenient Space of Time, whereby the Flood would become universal, and, as I think, answer all the Phenomena of the Deluge as delivered by Moses, at an easier Rate than those many hard Suppositions that are made use of to explain it. But this is not a Place for 40 that Argument, which is here only mentioned by the bye, to shew the Necessity of having Recourse to something {§ 192, 193] Systems of Natural Philosophy. 169 beyond bare Matter and its Motion in the Explication of Nature ; to which the Notions of Spirits and their Power, as delivered in the Bible, where so much is attributed to their Operation, may be a fit Preparative, reserving to a fitter Opportunity a fuller Explication of this Hypothesis, 5 and the Application of it to all the Parts of the Deluge, and any Difficulties can be supposed in the History of the Flood, as recorded in the Scripture. § 193. But to return to the Study of Natural Philo- sophy. Tho’ the World be full of Systems of it, yet I ro cannot say, I know any one which can be taught a young Man as a Science wherein he may be sure to find Truth and Certainty, which is what all Sciences give an Expec- tation of. I do not hence conclude, that none of them are to be read. It is necessary for a Gentleman in this learned 15 Age to look into some of them to fit himself for Conver- sation: But whether that of Des Cartes be put into his Hands, as that which is most in Fashion, or it be thought fit to give him a short View of that and several others also, I think the Systems of Natural Philosophy that have ob- zo tained in this Part of the World, are to be read more to know the Hypotheses, and to understand the Terms and Ways of talking of the several Sects, than with Hopes to gain thereby a comprehensive, scientifical and satisfactory Knowledge of the Works of Nature. Only this may be 25 said, that the modern Corpuscularians talk in most Things more intelligibly than the Peripateticks, who possessed the Schools immediately before them. He ‘that would look further back, and acquaint himself with the several Opinions of the Antients, may consult Dr. Cudworth’'s Intellectual 30 System, wherein that very learned Author hath with such Accurateness and Judgment collected and explained the Opinions of the Grek Philosophers, that what Principles they built on, and what were the chief Hypotheses that divided them, is better to be seen in him than any where 35 else that I know. But I would not deter any one from the Study of Nature because all the Knowledge we have or possibly can have of it cannot be brought into a Science. There are very many Things in it that are convenient and necessary to be known to a Gentleman; and a great many 40 other that will abundantly reward the Pains of the Curious 170 Boyle. Newton. [88 193—1095 with Delight and Advantage. But these, I think, are rather to be found amongst such Writers as have employed them- selves in making rational Experiments and Observations than in starting barely speculative Systems. Such Writings 5 therefore, as many of Mr. Boyles are, with others that have writ of Husbandry, Planting, Gardening, and the like, may be fit for a Gentleman, when he has a little acquainted him- self with some of the Systems of the Natural Philosoply in Fashion. 10 § 194. Though the Systems of Physicks that I have met with, afford little Encouragement to look for Certainty or Science in any Treatise which shall pretend to give us a Body of Natural Philosophy from the first Principles of Bodies in general, yet the incomparable Mr. Newson has 15 shewn, how far Mathematicks applied to some Parts of Nature may, upon Principles that Matter of Fact justify, carry us in the Knowledge of some, as I may so call them, particular Provinces of the incomprehensible Universe. And if others could give us so good and clear an Account of 20 other Parts of Nature, as he has of this our Planetary World, and the most considerable Phenomena observable in it, in his admirable Book, Philosophiae naturalis Principia Mathematica, we might in Time hope to be furnished with more true and certain Knowledge in several Parts of this 25 stupendous Machine, than hitherto we could have expected. And though there are very few that have Mathematicks enough to understand his Demonstrations, yet the most accurate Mathematicians who have examin’d them allowing them to be such, his Book will deserve to be read, and give 30 no small Light and Pleasure to those, who, willing to under- stand the Motions, Properties, and Operations of the great Masses of Matter, in this our solar System, will but carefully mind his Conclusions, which may be depended on as Propo- sitions well proved. 35 7 § 195. This is, in short, what I have thought concerning oe |B young Gentleman’s Studies; wherein it will “% possibly be wonderd that I should omit Greek, since amongst the Grecians is to be found the Original as it were, and Foundation of all that Learning which we have 40 in this Part of the World. I grant it so; and will add, That no Man can pass for a Scholar that is ignorant of the § 195] No Greek. La Bruyere for Languages. 171 Greek Tongue. But I am not here considering the Edu- cation of a profess’d Scholar, but of a Gentleman, to whom oP Latin and French, as the World now goes, is by every one acknowledg’d to be necessary. When he comes to be a Man, 5 if he has a mind to carry his Studies farther, and look into the Greek Learning, he will then easily get that Tongue himself: And if he has not that Inclination, his learning of it under a Tutor will be but lost Labour, and much of his Time and Pains spent in that which will be neglected and thrown away as soon as he is at Liberty. For how 10 many are there of an hundred, even amongst Scholars them- selves, who retain the Greck they carried from School; or ever improve it to a familiar reading and perfect under- standing of Greek Authors? To conclude this Part, which concerns a young Gentle- 15 man’s Studies, his Tutor should remember, that his Business is not so much to teach him all that is knowable, as to raise in him a Love and Esteem of Knowledge; and to put him in the right Way of knowing and improving himself when he has a Mind to it. 20 The Thoughts of a judicious Author on the Subject of Languages, I shall here give the Reader, as near as I can, in his own Way of expressing them : He says, * “ One can “scarce burden Children too much with the , ,_ Tents , “Knowledge of Languages. They are useful socursausic 23 “to Men of all Conditions, and they equally % P-577, 66 “open them the Entrance, either to the most profound, or “the more easy and entertaining Parts of Learning. If this “irksome Study be put off to a little more advanced Age, “young Men either have not Resolution enough to apply it 30 “out of Choice or Steadiness to carry it on. And if any “one has the Gift of Perseverance, it is not without the “Inconvenience of spending that Time upon Languages, “which is destined to other Uses: And he confines to the “Study of Words that Age of his Life that is above it, and 35 “requires Things; at least it is the losing the best and “ beautifullest Season of one’s Life. This large Foundation “of Languages cannot be well laid but when every thing “makes an easy and deep Impression on the Mind ; when “the Memory is fresh, ready, and tenacious; when the 40 “Head and Heart are as yet free from Cares, Passions, Da. aire mda. 0nd nua fy >5 I0 15 20 nN wun o -3 35 40 172 Choice of Tongues. Study Originals. [§ 195 “and Designs; and those on whom the Child depends “have Authority enough to keep him close to a long con- “tinued Application. I am persuaded that the small num- “ber of truly Learned, and the Multitude of superficial “ Pretenders, is owing to the neglect of this.” I think every Body will agree with this observing Gentle- man, that Languages are the proper Study of our first Years. But ’tis to be consider’d by the Parents and Tutors, what Tongues ’tis fit the Child should learn. For it must be confessed, that it is fruitless Pains and loss of Time, to learn a Language which in the Course of Life that he is designed to, he is never like to make use of, or which one may guess by his Temper he will wholly neglect and lose again, as soon as an Approach to Manhood, setting him free from a Governor, shall put him into the Hands of his own Inclination, which is not likely to allot any of his Time to the cultivating the learned Tongues, or dispose him to mind any other Language but what daily Use or some particular Necessity shall force upon him. But yet, for the sake of those who are designed to be Scholars, I will add what the same Author subjoins to make good his foregoing Remark. It will deserve to be con- sidered by all who desire to be truly learned, and therefore may be a fit Rule for Tutors to inculcate and leave with their Pupils to guide their future Studies. “The Study, says /%e, of the original Text can never be “sufficiently recommended. ’Tis the shortest, surest, and “most agreeable way to all sorts of Learning. Draw from “the Spring-head, and take not things at second Hand. “Let the Writings of the great Masters be never laid aside, “dwell upon them, settle them in your Mind, and cite ¢ them upon occasion ; make it your Business throughly to “understand them in their full Extent and all their Cir- “ cumstances : Acquaint your self fully with the Principles “of original Authors; bring them to a Consistency, and “then do you your self make your Deductions. In this / «State were the first Commentators, and do not you rest “till you bring yourself to the same. Content not yourself “with those borrowed Lights, nor guide yourself by their “Views but where your own fails you and leaves you in “the dark. Their Explications are not your’s, and will give § 195] Method in Study. 173 “you the slip. On the contrary, your own Observations are “ the Product of your own Mind, where they will abide and “be ready at hand upon all Occasions in Converse, Con- “sultation, and Dispute. Lose not the Pleasure it is to see “that you are not stopp’d in your reading but by Diffi- 5 “culties that are invincible; where the Commentators and “Scholiasts themselves are at a stand and have nothing to “say. Those copious Expositors of other Places, who with “a vain and pompous Overflow of Learning poured out “on Passages plain and easy in themselves, are very free of 10 “their Words and Pains, where there is no need. Con- “vince your self fully by this ordering your Studies, that “’tis nothing but Men’s Laziness which hath encouraged “ Pedantry to cram rather than enrich Libraries, and to “bury good Authors under Heaps of Notes and Com- 15 “ mentaries, und you will perceive that Sloth herein hath “acted against itself and its own Interest by multiplying “Reading and Enquiries, and encreasing the Pains it en- “ deavoured to avoid.” This, tho’ it may seem to concern none but direct Scholars, is of so great moment for the right ordering of their Education and Studies, that I hope I shall not be blamed for inserting of it here ; especially if it be considered, that it may be of use to Gentlemen too, when at any time ‘they have a mind to go deeper than the 25 Surface, and get to themselves a solid, satisfactory, and masterly Insight in any Part of Learning. Order and Constancy are said to make the great Dif. ference between one Man and another: This I am sure, ~~ nothing so much clears a Learner's Way, helps him so much 30 on in it, and makes him go so easy and so far in any Enquiry; asa good Method. His Governor should take Pains to make him sensible of this, accustom him to Order, and teach him Method in all the Applications of his Thoughts ; ; shew him wherein it lies, and the Advantages of it; acquaint him with 35 the several sorts of it, either from General to Particulars, or from Particulars to what is more general ; exercise him in both of them, and make him see in what Cases each different Met/od is most proper, and to what Ends it best serves. 40 In History the Order of Time should govern, in Philo- nN oO Method. 174 Known to unknown. Dancing. Music. [§§ 195—7 sophical Enquiries that of Nature, which in all Progression is to go from the Place one is then in, to that which joins and lies next to it; and so it is in the Mind, from the Knowledge it stands possessed of already, to that which 5 lies next, and is coherent to it, and so on to what it aims at, by the simplest and most uncompounded Parts it can divide the Matter into. To this Purpose, it will be of great Use to his Pupil to accustom him to distinguish well, that is, to have distinct Notions, whereever the Mind can find 10 any real Difference; but as carefully to avoid Distinctions in Terms, where he has not distinct and different clear Ideas. § 196. Besides what is to be had from Study and Books, there are other Accomplishments necessary for a Gentleman, to be got by Exercise, and to which Time is 15 to be allowed, and for which Masters must be had. Dancing being that which gives graceful Motions all es the Life, and above all things Manliness, and nc: a becoming Confidence to young Children, I think it cannot be learned too early, after they are once 20 of an Age and Strength capable of it. But you must be sure to have a good Master, that knows, and can teach, what is graceful and becoming, and what gives a Freedom and Easiness to all the Motions of the Body. One that teaches not this, is worse than none at all: Natural Un- 25 fashionableness being much better than apish affected Pos- tures; and I think it much more passable, to put off the Hat and make a Leg like an honest Country Gentleman than like an ill-fashioned Dancing-Master. For as for the jigging Part, and the Figures of Dances, I count that 30 little or nothing, farther than as it tends to perfect graceful Carriage. “$197. Musick is thought to have some Affinity with i Dancing, and a good Hand upon some Instru- "ments is by many People mightily valued. Butit 35 wastes so much of a young Man’s Time to gain but a mode- rate Skill in it ; and engages often in such odd Company, that many think it much better spared : And I have amongst Men. of Parts and Business so seldom heard any one commended or esteemed for having an Excellency in Musick, that o amongst all those things that ever came into the List of Accomplishments, I think I may give it the last Place. §§ 197, 198] Recreation. Fencing. Riding. 175 Our short Lives will not serve us for the Attainment of all Things ; nor can our Minds be always intent on something to be learned. The Weakness of our Constitutions both of Mind and Body, requires that we should be often unbent : And he that will make a good use of any Part of his Life, 5 must allow a large Portion of it to Recreation. At least, this must not be denied to young People; unless whilst you with too much Haste make them old, you have the Displeasure to set them in their Graves or a second Child- hood sooner than you could wish. And therefore, I think, 10 that the Time and Pains allotted to serious Improvements, should be employed about things of most Use and Conse- quence, and that too in the Methods the most easy and short that could be at any rate obtained: And perhaps, as I have above said, it would be none of the least Secrets of 15 Education, to make the Exercises of the Body and the Mind the Recreation one to another. I doubt not but that some- thing might be done in it, by a prudent Man, that would well consider the Temper and Inclination of his Pupil. For he that is wearied either with Study or Dancing does not 20 desire presently to go to sleep, but to do something else which may divert and delight him. But this must be always remembred, that nothing can come into the Account of Recreation, that is not done with Delight. § 198. Fencing, and Riding the real Horse, are looked 23 upon so necessary Parts of Breeding, that it would be thought a great Omission to neglect them ; the latter of the two being for the most part to be learned only in great Towns, is one of the best Exercises for Health, which 1s to be had in those Places of Ease and Luxury: And 30 upon that Account makes a fit Part of a young Gentle- man’s Employment during his Abode there. And as far as it conduces to give a Man a firm and graceful Seat on Horseback, and to make him able to teach his Horse to stop and turn quick, and to rest on his Hanches, is of Use 35 to a Gentleman both in Peace and War. But whether it be of moment enough to be made a Business of, and de- serve to take up more of his Time than should barely for his Health be employed at due Intervals in some such vigorous Exercise, I shall leave to the Discretion of Parents 40 and Tutors ; who will do well to remember, in all the Parts 176 Fencing and Wrestling. [§§ 198, 199 of Education, that most Time and Application is to be bestowed on that which is like to be of greatest Conse- quence and frequentest Use in the ordinary Course and Occurrences of that Life the young Man is designed for. 5 § 199. As for Fencing, it seems to me a good Exer- : Danding cise for Health, but dangerous to the Life; " the Confidence of their Skill being apt to engage in Quarrels those that think they have learned to use their Swords. This Presumption makes them often ro more touchy than needs on Point of Honour and slight or no Provocations. Young Men, in their warm Blood, are forward to think they have in vain learned to fence, if they never shew their Skill and Courage in a Duel; and they seem to have Reason. But how many sad 15 Tragedies that Reason has been the Occasion of, the Tears of many a Mother can witness. A man that cannot fence, will be more careful to keep out of Bullies’ and Gamesters’ Company, and will not be half so apt to stand upon Punctilios, nor to give Affronts, or fiercely justify 20 them when given, which 1s that which usually makes the Quarrel. And when a Man is in the Field, a moderate Skill in Fencing rather exposes him to the Sword of his Enemy than secures him from it. And certainly a Man of Courage who cannot fence at all and therefore will put 25 all upon one Thrust and not stand parrying, has the odds against a moderate Fencer, especially if he has Skill in Wrestling. And therefore, if any Provision be to be made against such Accidents, and a Man be to prepare his Son for Duels, I hol Zach pier oy should be a good Wrestler 3o than an_ ordinary Fencer, w ich is the most a Gentleman can attain to In it, unless he will be constantly in the Fencing- School and every Day exercising. But since Fencing and Riding the Great Horse are so generally looked upon as necessary Qualifications in the breeding of a Gentleman, it 35 will be hard wholly to deny any one of that Rank these Marks of Distinction. I shall leave it therefore to the Father to consider, how far the Temper of his Son and the Station he is like to be in, will allow or encourage him to comply with Fashions which, having very little to do with go Civil Life, were yet formerly unknown to the most warlike Nations, and seem to have added little of Force or Courage §§ 199—202] Prudentia. Learn a Trade. 177 to those who have received them; unless we will think martial Skill or Prowess have been improved by Duelling, with which Fencing came into, and with which I presume it will go out of the World. § 200. These are my present Thoughts concerning 5 Learning and Accomplishments. The great Business of all 1S Virtue and Wisdom : Nullum numen abest si sit Prudentia. Teach him to get a Mastery over his Inclinations, and su- mit his Appetite to Reason. This being obtained, and by 10 constant Practice settled into Habit, the hardest Part of the Task is over. To bring a young Man to this, I know nothing which so much contributes as the Love of Praise and Commendation, which should therefore be instilled into him by all Arts imaginable. Make his Mind as sensibld 15 of Credit and Shame as may be ; and when you have done that, you have put a Principle into him, which will influence his Actions when you are not by, to which the Fear of a little Smart of a Rod is not comparable, and which will be the proper Stock whereon afterwards to graff the true zo Principles of Morality and Religion. § 201. I have one thing more to add, which as soon as I mention I shall run the danger of being suspected to have forgot what I am about, and what I have above written concerning Education all tending 25 towards a Gentleman’s Calling, with which a Trade seems wholly inconsistent. And yet 1 cannot forbear to say, I would have him Zearn_a Trade, a manual Trade; nay, twa or three, but one more particularly. § 202. The busy Inclination of Children being always 30 to be directed to something that may be useful to them, the Advantages proposed from what they are set about may be considered of two Kinds: 1. Where the Skill itself that is got by Exercise is worth the having. Thus Skill not only in Languages and learned Sciences, but in Painting, 35 Turning, Gardening, tempering and working in Iron, and all other useful Arts is worth the having. 2. Where the Exercise itself, without any Consideration, is necessary or useful for Health. Knowledge in some things is so neces- sary to be got by Children whilst they are young, that some 40 Q. 5 12 Travel. 178 ' Manual Arts. Painting &c. [§§ 202—204 Part of their Time is to be allotted to their Improvement in them, though those Employments contribute nothing at all to their Health. Such are Reading and Writing and all other sedentary Studies for the cultivating of the Mind, 5 which unavoidably take up a great Part of Gentlemen’s Time, quite from their Cradles. Other manual Arts, which are both got and exercised by Labour, do many of them by that Exercise not only increase our Dexterity and Skill, but contribute to our Health too, especially such as employ ro us in the open Air. In these, then, Health and Improve- ment may be join’d together; and of these should some fit ones be chosen, to be made the Recreations of one whose chief Business is with Books and Study. In this Choice the Age and inclination of the Person is to be con- 15 sidered, and constraint always to be avoided in bringing him to it. For Command and Force may often create, but can never cure, an Aversion: And whatever any one is brought to by Compulsion, he will leave as soon as he can, and be little profited and less recreated by, whilst he 20 Is at it. § 203. That which of all others would please me best, Palais would be a Painter, were there not an Argument "or two-against it not easy to be answered. First, ill Painting is one of the worst things in the World ; and 25 to attain a tolerable Degree of Skill in it, requires too much of a Man’s Time: If he has a natural Inclination to it, it will endanger the Neglect of all other more useful Studies to give way to that; and if he have no Inclination to it, all the Time, Pains and Money shall be employed in it, 30 will be thrown away to no purpose. Another Reason why I am not for Painting in a Gentleman, is, because it is a sedentary Recreation, which more employs the Mind than the Body. A Gentleman’s more serious Employment I look on to be Study; and when that demands Relaxation 35 and Refreshment, it should be in some Exercise of the Body, which unbends the Thought, and confirms the Health and Strength. For these two Reasons I am not for Printing. § 204. In the next place, for a Country Gentléman rater! I should propose one, or rather both these, zzz. 40, rena Gardening or Husbandry in general, and work- ing in Wood, as a Carpenter, Joiner, or Turner, these being §§ 204—206] Gardening. Ancient Examples. 179 fit and healthy Recreations for a man of Study or Business. For since the Mind endures not to be constantly employed in the same Thing or Way, and sedentary or studious Men should have some Exercise, that at the same Time might divert their Minds 5 and employ their Bodies, I know none that could do it better for a Country Gentleman than these two; the one of them affording him Exercise when the Weather or Season keeps him from the other. Besides that, by being skill'd in the one of them, he will be able to govern and teach ro his Gardener; by the other, contrive and make a great many things both of Delight and Use: Though these I propose not as the chief End of his Labour, but as Temp- tations to it; diversion from his other more serious Thoughts and Employments by useful and healthy manual 15 Exercise being what I chiefly aim at in it. § 205. The great Men among the Ancients understood very well how to reconcile manual Labour with Affairs of State, and thought it no lessening to their Dignity to make the one the Recreation to the other. That indeed which po seems most generally to have employed and diverted their spare Hours, was Agriculture. Gideon among the Jews was taken from Threshing, as well as Cincinnatus amongst the Romans from the Plough, to command the Armies of their Countries against their Enemies ; and ’tis plain their 25 dexterous handling of the Flayl or the Plough, and being good Workmen with these Tools, did not hinder their Skill in Arms, nor make them less able in the Arts of War or Government. They were great Captains and Statesmen as well as Husbandmen. Cato Major, who had with great 30 Reputation born all the great Offices of the Commonwealth, has left us an Evidence under his own Hand, how much he was versed in Country Affairs; and, as I remember, Cyrus thought Gardening so little beneath the Dignity and Grandeur of a Throne, that he shew'd Xenophon a large 35 Field of Fruit-Trees all of his own planting. The Records of Antiquity, both among Jews and Gentiles, are full of Instances of this kind, if it were necessary to recommend useful Recreations by Examples. tne § 206. Nor let it be thought-that I mistake, when I 40 call these or the like Exercises of manual Arts, Diver- Foiner. I2—2 i180 Recreation in Change. Gaming. [§§ 206, 207 sions or Recreations: For Recreation is not being idle (as Recreations. CVELY one may observe) but easing the wearied " Part by Change of Business: and he that thinks Diversion may not lie in hard and painful Labour, forgets 5 the early Rising, hard Riding, Heat, Cold and Hunger of Huntsmen, which is yet known to be the constant Recrea- tion of Men of the greatest Condition. Delving, Planting, Inoculating, or any the like profitable Employments, would be no less a Diversion than any of the idle Sports in io Fashion, if Men could but be brought to delight in them, which Custom and Skill in a Trade will quickly bring any one to do. And I doubt not but there are to be found those, who being frequently called to Cards or any other Play by those they could not refuse, have been more tired 15 with these Recreations than with any the most serious Em- ployment of Life, though the Play has been such as they have naturally had no Aversion to, and with which they could willingly sometimes divert themselves. § 207. Play, wherein Persons of Condition, especially 20 Ladies, waste so much of their Time, is a plain Instance to me that Men cannot be perfectly idle; they must be doing something ; for how else could they sit so many Hours toiling at that which generally gives more Vexation than Delight to People whilst they are actually engag’d in it? 25 "Tis certain, Gaming leaves no Satisfaction behind it to those who reflect when it is over, and it no way profits either Body or Mind: As to their Estates, if it strike so deep as to concern them, it is a Z7ade then, and not a Recreation, wherein few that have any thing else to live 30 on thrive: And at best, a thriving Gamester has but a poor Trade on’t, who fills his Pockets at the Price of his Reputation. Recreation belongs not to People who are Strangers to Business, and are not wasted and wearied with the Em- 35 ployment of their Calling. The Skill should be, so to order their Time of Recreation, that it may relax and refresh the Part that has been exercised and is tired, and yet do some- thing which besides the present Delight and Ease, may produce what will afterwards be profitable. It has been 40 nothing but the Vanity and Pride of Greatness and Riches, that has brought unprofitable and dangerous Pastimes (as §§ 207, 208] No Need to kill Time. 181 they are called) into Fashion, and persuaded People into a Belief, that the learning or putting their Hands to any thing that was useful, could not be a Diversion fit for a Gentleman. This has been that which has given Cards, Dice and Drinking so much Credit in the World: And 5 a great many throw away their spare Hours in them, through the Prevalency of Custom, and want of some better Employment to fill up the Vacancy of Leisure, more than from any real Delight is to be found in them. They cannot bear the dead Weight of unemployed Time lying Io upon their Hands, nor the Uneasiness it is to do nothing at all: And having never learned any laudable manual Art wherewith to divert themselves, they have recourse to those foolish or ill Ways in Use, to help off their Time, which a rational Man, till corrupted by Custom, could find very 15 little Pleasure in. § 208. I say not this, that I would never have a young Gentleman accommodate himself to the innocent Diversions in fashion amongst those of his Age and Condition. I am so far from having him austere and morose to that Degree, 20 that IT would persuade him to more than ordinary Com- plaisance for all the Gaieties and Diversions of those he converses with, and be averse or testy in nothing they should desire of him, that might become a Gentleman and an honest Man. Though as to Cards and Dice, 1 think 25 the safest and best way is never to learn any Play upon them, and so to be incapacitated for those dangerous Temp- tations and incroaching Wasters of useful Time. But Allow- ance being made for idle and jovial Conversation and all fashionable becoming Recreations ; I say, a young Man will 30 have time enough from his serious and main Business, to learn almost any Zrade. ’Tis want of Appli- cation, and not of Leisure, that Men are not skilful in more Arts than one; and an Hour in a Day, con- stantly employed in such a way of Diversion, will carry a 35 Man in a short Time a great deal farther than he can imagine : Which, if it were of no other Use but to drive the common, vicious, useless, and dangerous Pastimes out of Fashion, and to shew there was no need of them, would deserve to be encouraged. If Men from their Youth were 40 weaned from that sauntring Humour wherein some out of Trade. 182 Other manual Arts. [§§ 208—210 Custom let a good Part of their Lives run uselessly away, without either Business or Recreation, they would find time enough to acquire Dexterity and\Skill in hundreds of Things, which, though remote from their\proper Callings, would not 5 at all interfere with them. And therefore, I think, for this, as well as other Reasons before-mentioned, a lazy, listless Humour, that idly dreams away the Days, is of all others the least to be indulged or permitted in young People. It is the proper State of one sick and out of order in his 10 Health, and is tolerable in mo body else of what Age or Condition soever. § 209. To the Arts above-mentioned may be added Perfuming, Varnishing, Graving, and several Sorts of working in fron, Brass, and Silver; and if, as it happens to most 15 young Gentlemen, that a considerable part of his Time be spent in a great Town, he may learn to cut, polish, and set precious Stones, or employ himself in grinding and polishing Optical Glasses. Amongst the great Variety there is of in- genious manual Arts,’ twill be impossible that no one should 20 be found to please and delight him, unless he be either idle or debauched, which is not to be supposed in a right way of Education. And since he cannot be always employ’d in Study, Reading and Conversation, there will be many an Hour, besides what his Exercises will take up, which, if not 25 spent this Way, will be spent worse. For I conclude, a young Man will seldom desire to sit perfectly still and idle ; or, if he does, ’tis a Fault that ought to be mended. § 210. But if his mistaken Parents, frighted with the dis- graceful Names of Mechanick and Zrade, shall have an Aver- 30 sion to any thing of this kind in their Children ; yet there is one thing relating to Trade, which, when they consider, they will think absolutely necessary for their Sons to learn. Merchants’ Accompts, tho a Science not likely to help : a Gentleman to get an Estate, yet possibly there 35 Merchants jg not any thing of more Use and Efficacy, to make him preserve the Estate he has. ’Tis seldom observed, that he who keeps an Accompt of his Income and Expences, and thereby has constantly under view the Course of his domestick Affairs, lets them run to go ruin: And I doubt not but many a Man gets behind-hand before he is aware, or runs farther on when he is once in, §§ 210, 211] Use of keeping Accounts. 183 for want of this Care, or the Skill to do it. I would there- fore advise all Gentlemen to learn perfectly Merchants’ Ac compts, and not to think it is a Skill that belongs not to them, because it has received its Name from, and has been chiefly practised by Men of Traffick. 5 § 211. When my young Master has once got the Skill of keeping Accounts (which is a Business of Reason more than Arithmetick) perhaps it will not be amiss that his Father from thenceforth require him to do it in all his Concernments. Not that I would have him set down every 10 Pint of Wine or Play that costs him Money; the general Name of Expences will serve for such things well enough : Nor would I have his Father look so narrowly into these Accompts, as to take occasion from thence to criticise on his Expences; he must remember that he himself was once 15 a young Man, and not forget the Thoughts he had then, nor the Right his Son has to have the same, and to have Allowance made for them. If therefore I would have the young Gentleman oblig’d to keep an Account, it is not at all to have that way a Check upon his Expences (for what 20 the Father allows him, he ought to let him be fully Master of) but only, that he might be brought early into the Custom of doing it, and that it might be made familiar and habitual to him betimes, which will be so useful and necessary to be constantly practised the whole Course of his Life. A Noble 25 Venetian, whose Son wallowed in the Plenty of his Father’s Riches, finding his Son’s Expences grow very high and extravagant, ordered his Cashier to let him have for the future no more Money than what he should count when he received it. This one would think no great Restraint to 30 a young Gentleman’s Expences; who could freely have as much Money as he would tell. But yet this, to one that was used to nothing but the Pursuit of his Pleasures, prov'd a very great Trouble, which at last ended in this sober and advantageous Reflection: If it be so much Pains to me 35 barely to count the Money I would spend, what Labour and Pains did it cost my Ancestors, not only to count, but get it? This rational Thought, suggested by this little Pains impos’d upon him, wrought so effectually upon his Mind, that it made him take up, and from that time for- 40 wards prove a good Husband. This, at least, every Body 184 Right Time for Travel? [§§ 211, 212 must allow, that nothing is likelier to keep a Man within compass, than the having constantly before his Eyes the State of his Affairs in a regular Course of Accompt. § 212. The last Part usually in Education is Z7avel, which is commonly thought to finish the Work, and complete the Gentleman. I confess Z7avél into foreign Countries has great Advantages, but the time usually chosen to send young Men abroad, is, I think, of all other, that which renders them least capable of reaping 10 those Advantages. Those which are propos’d, as to the main of them, may be reduced to these two; first, Lan- guage, secondly, an Improvement in Wisdom and Prudence, by seeing Men, and conversing with People of Tempers, Customs and Ways of Living, different from one another, 15 and especially from those of his Parish and Neighbourhood. But from sixteen to one and twenty, which is the ordinary Time of Travel, Men are, of all their Lives, the least suited | to these Improvements. The first Season to get Foreign Languages, and form the Tongue to their true Accents, I 20 should think, should be from seven to fourteen or sixteen, and then too a Tutor with them is useful and necessary, who may with those Languages teach them other Things. But to put them out of their Parents’ View at a great Dis- tance under a Governor, when they think themselves to be 25 too much Men to be governed by others, and yet have not Prudence and Experience enough to govern themselves, what is it, but to expose them to all the greatest Dangers of their whole Life, when they have the least Fence and Guard against them? ‘Till that boiling boisterous Part of 30 Life comes in, it may be hoped the Tutor may have some Authority : Neither the Stubbornness of Age, nor the Temp- tation or Examples of others, can take him from his Tutor’s Conduct till fifteen or sixteen: But then, when he begins to comfort himself with Men, and thinks himself one ; when 35 he comes to relish and pride himself in manly Vices, and thinks it a shame to be any longer under the Controul and Conduct of another, what can be hoped from even the most careful and discreet Governor, when neither he has Power to compel, nor his Pupil a Disposition to be persuaded ; 40 but on the contrary, has the Advice of warm Blood and prevailing Fashion, to hearken to the Temptations of his 5 Travel. §§ 212—214] Wrong Time for Travel. 185 Companions, just as wise as himself, rather than to the Persuasions of his Tutor, who is now looked on as an Enemy to his Freedom? And when is a Man so like to miscarry, as when at the same time he is both raw and unruly? This is the Season of all his Life that most re- 5 quires the Eye and Authority of his Parents and Friends to govern it. The Flexibleness of the former Part of a Man’s Age, not yet grown up to be headstrong, makes it more governable and safe; and in the After-part, Reason and Foresight begin a little to take Place, and mind a Man of 10 his Safety and Improvement. The Time therefore I should think the fittest for a young Gentleman to be sent abroad, would be, either when he is younger, under a Tutor, whom he might be the better for ; or when he is some Years older, without a Governor ; when he is of Age to govern himself, 15 and make Observations of what he finds in other Countries worthy his Notice, and that might be of Use to him after his Return; and when too, being throughly acquainted with the Laws and Fashions, the natural and moral Advan- tages and Defects of his own Country, he has something to 20 exchange with those abroad, from whose Conversation he hoped to reap any Knowledge. § 213 [Wanting]. § 214. The ordering of Travel otherwise, is that, I imagine, which makes so many young Gentlemen come 25 back so little improved by it. And if they do bring home with them any Knowledge of the Places and People they have seen, it is often an Admiration of the worst and vain- est Practices they met with abroad ; retaining a Relish and Memory of those Things wherein their Liberty took its 30 first Swing, rather than of what should make them better and wiser after their Return. And indeed how can it be otherwise, going abroad at the Age they do under the Care of another, who is to provide their Necessaries, and make their Observations for them? Thus under the Shelter and 35 Pretence of a Governor, thinking themselves excused from standing upon their own Legs or being accountable for their own Conduct, they very seldom trouble themselves with Enquiries or making useful Observations of their own. Their Thoughts run after Play and Pleasure, wherein they 40 take it as a Lessening to be controll'd ; but seldom trouble 186 Gain from Travel. [§§ 214—216 themselves to examine the Designs, observe the Address, and consider the Arts, Tempers, and Inclinations of Men they meet with; that so they may know how to comport themselves towards them. Here he that travels with them 5 is to screen them ; get them out when they have run them- selves into the Briars; and in all their Miscarriages be answerable for them. § 215. I confess, the Knowledge of Men is so great a Skill, that it is not to be expected a young Man should 10 presently be perfect in it. But yet his going abroad is to little purpose, if Z7avel does not sometimes open his Eyes, make him cautious and wary, and accustom him to look beyond the Outside, and, under the inoffensive Guard of a civil and obliging Carriage, keep himself free and safe in 15 his Conversation with Strangers and all sorts of People without forfeiting their good Opinion. He that is sent out to Zravel at the Age, and with the Thoughts of a Man designing to improve himself, may get into the Conversa- tion and Acquaintance of Persons of Condition where he 20 comes; which, tho’ a Thing of most Advantage to a Gen- tleman that travels, yet I ask, amongst our young Men that go abroad under Tutors, what one is there of an hun- dred, that ever visits any Person of Quality? Much less makes an Acquaintance with such, from whose Conversation 25 he may learn what is good Breeding in that Country, and what is worth Observation in it; tho’ from such Persons it is, one may learn more in one Day, than in a Year’s Ram- bling from one Inn to another. Nor indeed, is it to be wondered ; for Men of Worth and Parts will not easily 30 admit the Familiarity of Boys who yet need the Care of a Tutor; tho’ a young Gentleman and Stranger, appearing like a Man, and shewing a Desire to inform himself in the Customs, Manners, Laws, and Government of the Country he is in, will find welcome Assistance and Entertainment 35 amongst the best and most knowing Persons every where, who will be ready to receive, encourage and countenance an ingenuous and inquisitive Foreigner. § 216. This, how true soever it be, will not I fear alter the Custom, which has cast the Time of Travel upon 40 the worst Part of a Man’s Life ; but for Reasons not taken from their Improvement. The young Lad must not be §§ 216, 217] Scope of this Treatise. 187 ventured abroad at eight or ten, for fear of what may happen to the tender Child, tho’ he then runs ten times less Risque than at sixteen or eighteen. Nor must he stay at home till that dangerous, heady Age be over, because he must be back again by one and twenty, to marry and propagate. 5 The Father cannot stay any longer for the Portion, nor the Mother for a new Set of Babies to play with; and so my young Master, whatever comes on it, must have a Wife look’d out for him by that Time he is of Age; tho’ it would be no Prejudice to his Strength, his Parts, or his Issue, if it 10 were respited for some Time, and he had leave to get, in Years and Knowledge, the Start a little of his Children, who are often found to tread too near upon the Heels of their Fathers, to the no great Satisfaction either of Son or Father. But the young Gentleman being got within 15 View of Matrimony, ’tis Time to leave him to his Mistress. § 217. Tho’ I am now come to a Conclusion of what obvious Remarks have suggested to me con- cerning Education, I would not have it thought that I look on it as a just Treatise on this Subject. There 20 are a thousand other Things that may need Consideration ; especially if one should take in the various Tempers, different Inclinations, and particular Defaults, that are to be found in Children, and prescribe proper Remedies. The Variety is so great that it would require a Volume; nor would that reach it. 25 Each Man’s Mind has some Peculiarity, as well as his Face, that distinguishes him from all others; and there are pos- sibly scarce two Children who can be conducted by exactly the same Method. Besides that, I think a Prince, a Noble- man, and an ordinary Gentleman’s Son, should have 30 different Ways of Breeding. But having had here only some general Views in Reference to the main End and Aims in Education, and those designed for a Gentleman’s Son, whom, being then very little, I considered only as white Paper, or Wax, to be moulded and fashioned as one pleases ; 35 I have touched little more than those Heads which I judged necessary for the Breeding of a young Gentleman of his Condition in general ; and have now published these my occasional Thoughts with this Hope, that tho’ this be far from being a complete Treatise on this Subject, or such 40 Conclusion. 188 Conclusion. [§ 217 as that every one may find what will just fit his Child in it, yet it may give some small Light to those, whose Concern for their dear little Ones makes them so irregularly bold, that they dare venture to consult their own Reason in the 5 Education of their Children, rather than wholly to rely upon old Custom. FINIS. APPENDIX A. WORKING SCHOOLS. LockE’s plan is as follows: “The children of labouring people are an ordinary burden to the parish, and are usually maintained in idleness, so that their labour also is generally lost to the public till they are twelve or fourteen years old. The most effectual remedy for this that we are able to conceive, and which we therefore humbly propose, is, that, in the fore-mentioned new law to be enacted, it be further provided that working schools be set up in every parish, to which the children of all such as demand relief of the parish, above three and under fourteen years of age, whilst they live at home with their parents, and are not otherwise employed for their livelihood by the allowance of the overseers of the poor, shall be obliged to come. By this means the mother will be eased of a great part of her trouble in looking after and providing for them at home, and so be at the more liberty to work ; the children will be kept in much better order, be better provided for, and from infancy be inured to work, which is of no small consequence to the making of them sober and industrious all their lives after ; and the parish will be either eased of this burden or at least of the misuse in the present management of it. For, a great number of children giving a poor man a title to an allow- ance from the parish, this allowance is given once a week or once a month to the father in money, which he not seldom spends on himself at the alehouse, whilst his children, for whose sake he had it, are left to suffer, or perish under the want of necessaries, unless the charity of neighbours relieve them. We humbly conceive that a man and his wife in health may be able by their ordinary labour to maintain themselves and two children. More than two children at one time under the age of three years will seldom happen in one family. If therefore all the children above three years old be taken off from their hands those who have never so many, whilst they remain themselves in health, will not need any allowance for them. : We do not suppose that children of three years old will be able at that age to get their livelihoods at the working school, but we are sure that what is necessary for their relief will more effectually have that use if it be distributed to them in bread at that school than if it be given to their fathers in money. What they have at home from their 190 Appendix A. parents is seldom more than bread and water, and that, many of them, very scantily too. If therefore care be taken that they have each of them their belly-full of bread daily at school, they will be in no danger of famishing, but, on the contrary, they will be healthier and stronger than those who are bred otherwise. Nor will this practice cost the overseers any trouble; for a baker may be agreed with to furnish and bring into the school-house every day the allowance of bread necessary for all the scholars that are there. And to this may be also added, without any trouble, in cold weather, if it be thought needful, a little warm water-gruel ; for the same fire that warms the room may be made use of to boil a pot of it. From this method the children will not only reap the fore-men- tioned advantages with far less charge to the parish than what is now done for them, but they will be also thereby the more obliged to come to school and apply themselves to work, because otherwise they will have no victuals, and also the benefit thereby both to themselves and the parish will daily increase; for, the earnings of their labour at school every day increasing, it may reasonably be concluded that, computing all the earnings of a child from three to fourteen years of age, the nourishment and teaching of such a child during that whole time will cost the parish nothing ; whereas there is no child now which from its birth is maintained by the parish but, before the age of four- teen, costs the parish £50 or £60. Another advantage also of bringing children thus to a working school is that by this means they may be obliged to come constantly to church every Sunday, along with their schoolmasters or dames, whereby they may be brought into some sense of religion ; whereas ordinarily now, in their idle and loose way of breeding up, they are as utter strangers both to religion and morality as they are to industry. In order therefore to the more effectual carrying on of this work to the advantage of this kingdom, we further humbly propose that these schools be generally for spinning or knitting, or some other part of the woollen manufacture, unless in countries [that is, districts] where the place shall furnish some other materials fitter for the employment of such poor children; in which places the choice of those materials for their employment may be left to the prudence and direction of the guardians of the poor of that hundred. And that the teachers in these schools be paid out of the poor’s rate, as can be agreed. This, though at first setting up it may cost the parish a little, yet we humbly conceive (the earnings of the children abating the charge of their maintenance, and as much work being required of each of them as they are reasonably able to perform) it will quickly pay its own charges with an overplus. That, where the number of the poor children of any parish is greater than for them all to be employed in one school they be there divided into two, and the boys and girls, if thought convenient, taught and kept to work separately. That the handicraftsmen in each hundred be bound to take every other of their respective apprentices from amongst the boys in some one of the schools in the said hundred without any money ; which boys Working Schools. 191 they may so take at what age they please, to be bound to them till the age of twenty-three years, that so the length of time may more than make amends for the usual sums that are given to handicraftsmen with such apprentices. That those also in the hundred who keep in their hands land of their own to the value of £25 per annum, or upwards, or who rent £50 per annum or upwards, may choose out of the schools of the said hundred what boy each of them pleases, to be his apprentice in husbandry on the same condition. That whatever boys are not by this. means bound out apprentices before they are full fourteen shall, at the Easter meeting of the guardians of each hundred every year, be bound to such gentlemen, yeomen, or farmers within the said hundred as have the greatest number of acres of land in their hands, who shall be obliged to take them for their apprentices till the age of twenty-three, or bind them out at their own cost to some handicraftsmen; provided always, that no such gentleman, yeoman, or farmer shall be bound to have two such apprentices at a time. That grown people also (to take away their pretence of want of work) may come to the said working schools to learn, where work shall accordingly be provided for them. That the materials to be employed in these schools and among other the poor people of the parish be provided by a common stock in each hundred, to be raised out of a certain portion of the poor’s rate of each parish as requisite ; which stock, we humbly conceive, need be raised but once ; for, if rightly managed, it will increase.” (F. B. ii. 383.) APPENDIX B. LOCKE'S OTHER EDUCATIONAL WRITINGS. In Locke’s works we find besides the 77%oughts and the Conduct of the Understanding (the last a posthumous: chapter for the Zssay), 1st, ¢¢ Instructions for the conduct of a young Gentleman ;” 2nd, ‘“Some Thoughts concerning Reading and Study for a Gentleman.” Besides these Lord King, in his Zife of Locke, gives us an excellent essay, “Of Study,” collected from Locke’s Journals. Of these three the last only is of importance. In the first the young gentleman is recommended to study the Bible and then other books. ‘The knowledge of the Bible and the business of his own calling is enough for an ordinary man ; a gentleman ought to go further.” Locke is also very emphatic as usual about ‘good breeding.” In the Zhoughts concerning Reading and Study for a Gentleman we have some good advice about the subject, but of course the books named are in a few cases only the books which are read now. ‘Reading 192 Appendix B. is for the improvement of the understanding. The improvement of the understanding is for two ends: 1st, for our own increase of know- ledge; 2nd, to enable us to deliver and make out that knowledge to others.” The gentleman’s ‘‘proper calling is the service of his country, and so is most properly concerned in moral and political know- ledge ; and thus the studies which more immediately belong to his calling are those which treat of virtues and vices, of civil society and the arts of government, and will take in also law and history.” But without right reasoning true knowledge is not got by reading and studying. ‘‘ Men of much reading are greatly learned, but may be little knowing.” ¢¢ The gentleman should attend to the art of speaking well, which consists chiefly in two things, viz. perspicuity and right reasoning.” These Locke would have acquired not so much by rules as by examples, though some rules may be studied in Cicero, Quintilian, and others. For right reasoning ‘‘I should propose the constant reading of Chillingworth.” Locke recommends the reading of travels, always a favourite study with him. ¢“ There is another use of reading which is for diversion and delight. Such are poetical writings, especially dramatic, if they be free from profaneness, obscenity, and what corrupts good manners; for such pitch should not be handled. Of all the books of fiction I know none that equals Cervantes’ Hestory of Don Quixote.” The remarks on S7udy were written in France in Locke’s Journal, and probably for his own eye only; but it seems a pity that so excellent an essay was not published and generally studied. As it has never appeared except in the Zzfs, I give it (with small omissions) here. It is the following : OF STUDY. THE end of study is knowledge, and the end. of knowledge prac- tice or communication. ’Tis true, delight is commonly joined with all improvements of knowledge; but when we study only for that end, it is to be considered rather as diversion than business, and so is to be reckoned among our recreations. The extent of knowledge or things knowable is so vast, our duration here so short, and the entrance by which the knowledge of things gets into our understanding so narrow, that the time of our whole life would be found too short, without the necessary allowances for childhood and old age (which are not capable of much improvement), for the refreshment of our bodies and unavoidable avocations, and in most con- ditions for the ordinary employment of their callings, which if they neglect, they cannot eat nor live; I say that the whole time of our life, without these necessary defalcations, is not enough to acquaint us with all those things, I will not say which we are capable of knowing, but which it would not be only convenient but very advantageous to know. He that will consider how many doubts and difficulties have remained in Of Study. 193 the minds of the most knowing men after long and studious inquiry ; how much in those several provinces of knowledge they have surveyed, they have leftundiscovered ; how many other provinces of the ¢‘ mundus intelli- gibilis,” as I may call it, they never once travelled on, will easily consent to the disproportionateness of our time and strength to this greatness of business, of knowledge taken in its full latitude, and which, if it be not our main business here, yet it is so necessary to it, and so interwoven with it, that we can make little further progress in doing, than we do in knowing —at least to little purpose—acting without understanding being usually at best but lost labour. It therefore much behoves us to improve the best we can our time and talent in this respect, and since we have a long journey to go, and the days are but short, to take the straightest and most direct road we can. To this purpose, it may not perhaps be amiss to decline some things that are likely to bewilder us, or at least lie out of our way. 1st. As all that maze of words and phrases which have been invented and employed only to instruct and amuse people in the art of disputing, and will be found perhaps, when looked into, to have little or no meaning; and with this kind of stuff the logics, physics, ethics, metaphysics, and divinity of the schools are thought by some to be too much filled. This I am sure, that where we leave distinctions without finding a difference in things ; where we make variety of phrases, or think we furnish ourselves with argu- ments without a progress in the real knowledge of things, we only fill our heads with empty sounds, which however thought to belong to learn- ing and knowledge, will no more improve our understandings and strengthen our reason, than the noise of a jack will fill our bellies or strengthen our bodies : and the art to fence with those which are called subtleties, is of no more use than it would be to be dexterous in tying and untying knots in cobwebs. Words are of no value nor use, but as they are the signs of things; when they stand for nothing they are less than cyphers, for instead of augmenting the value of those they are joined with, they lessen it, and make it nothing; and where they have not a clear distinct signification, they are like unusual or ill-made figures that confound our meaning. . 2nd. An aim and desire to know what hath been other men’s opinions. Truth needs no recommendation, and error is not mended by it; and in our inquiry after knowledge, itas little concerns us what other men have thought, as it does one who is to go from Oxford to London, to know what scholars walked quietly on foot, inquiring the way and sur- veying the country as they went, who rode post after their guide without minding the way he went, who were carried along muffled up in a coach with their company, or where one doctor lost or went out of his way, or where another stuck in the mire. If a traveller gets a knowledge of the right way, it is no matter whether he knows the infinite windings, bye- ways, and turnings where others have been misled ; the knowledge of the right secures him from the wrong, and that is his great business. And so methinks it is in our pilgrimage through this world; men’s fancies have been infinite even of the learned, and the history of them endless: and some not knowing whither they would go, have kept going, though they have only moved; others have followed only their own Q 13 194 ; Appendix B. imagination, though they meant right, which is an errant which with the wisest leads us through strange mazes. Interest has blinded some and prejudiced others, who have yet marched confidently on; and however out of the way, they have thought themselves most in the right. I do not say this to undervalue the light we receive from others, or to think there are not those who assist us mightily in our endeavours after knowledge; perhaps without books we should be as ignorant as the Indians, whose minds are as ill clad as their bodies; but I think it is an idle and useless thing to make it one’s business to study what have been other men’s sentiments in things where reason is only to be judge, on purpose to be furnished with them, and to be able to cite them on all occa- sions. However it be esteemed a great part of learning, yet to a man that considers how little time he has, and how much work to do, how many things he is to learn, how many doubts to clear in religion, how many rules to establish to himself in morality, how much pains to be taken with himself to master his unruly desires and passions, how to provide himself against a thousand cases and accidents that will happen, and an infinite deal more both in his general and particular calling; I say to a man that considers this well, it will not seem much his business to acquaint himself designedly with the various conceits of men that are to be found in books even upon subjects of moment. I deny not but the knowing of these opinions in all their variety, contradiction, and extrava- gancy, may serve to instruct us in the vanity and ignorance of mankind, and both to humble and caution us upon that consideration; but this seems not reason enough to me to engage purposely in this study, and in our inquiries after more material points, we shall meet with enough of this medley to acquaint us with the weakness of man’s understanding. 3rd. Purity of language, a polished style, or exact criticism in foreign languages—thus I think Greek and Latin may be called, as well as French and Italian,—and to spend much time in these may perhaps serve to set one off in the world, and give one the reputation of a scholar. But if that be all, methinks it is labouring for an outside ; it is at best but a handsome dress of truth or falsehood that one busies oneself about, and makes most of those who lay out their time this way rather fashionable gentlemen, than wise or useful men. There are so many advantages of speaking one’s own language well, and being a master in it, that let a man’s calling be what it will, it cannot but be worth our taking some pains in it; but it is by no means to have the first place in our studies: but he that makes good language subservient to a good life and an instrument of virtue, is doubly enabled to do good to others. When I speak against the laying out our time and study on criticisms, I mean such as may serve to make us great masters in Pindar and Per- sius, Herodotus and Tacitus ; and I must always be understood to except all study of languages and critical learning, that may aid us in under- standing the Scriptures ; for they being an eternal foundation of truth, as immediately coming from the Fountain of Truth, whatever doth help us to understand their true sense, doth well deserve our pains and study. 4th. Antiquity and history, as far as they are designed only to fur- nish us with story and talk. - For the stories of Alexander and Caesar, no Of Study. 195 farther than they instruct us in the art of living well, and furnish us with observations of wisdom and prudence, are not one jot to be preferred to the history of Robin Hood, or the Seven Wise Masters. Ido not deny but history is very useful, and very instructive of human life; but if it be studied only for the reputation of being an historian, it is a very empty thing; and he that can tell all the particulars of Herodotus and Plutarch, Curtius and Livy, without making any other use of them, may be an ignorant man with a good memory, and with all his pains hath only filled his head with Christmas tales. And which is worse, the greatest part of history being made up of wars and conquests, and their style, especially the Romans’, speaking of valour as the chief if not the only virtue, we are in danger to be misled by the general current and business of history, and looking on Alexander and Cesar, and such like heroes, as the highest instances of human greatness, because they each of them caused the death of several 100,000 men, and the ruin of a much greater number, overran a great part of the earth, and killed the inha- bitants to possess themselves of their countries—we are apt to make butchery and rapine the chief marks and very essence of human greatness. And if civil history be a great dealer of it, and to many readers thus useless, curious and difficult inquirings in antiquity are much more so; and the exact dimensions of the Colossus, or figure of the Capitol, the ceremonies of the Greek and Roman marriages, or who it was that first coined money; these, I confess, set a man well off in the world, especially amongst the learned, but set him very little on in his way. sth. Nice questions and remote useless speculations, as where the earthly Paradise was—or what fruit it was that was forbidden—where Lazarus’s soul was whilst his body lay dead—and what kind of bodies we shall have at the Resurrection? &c. &ec. These things well-regulated will cut off at once a great deal of business from one who is setting out into a course of study; not that all these are to be counted utterly useless, and lost time cast away on them. The four last may be each of them the full and laudable employment of several persons who may with great advantage make languages, history, or antiquity, their study. For as for words without meaning, which is the first head I mentioned, I cannot imagine them any way worth hearing or reading, much less studying ; but there is such an harmony in all sorts of truth and knowledge, they do all support and give light so to one another, that one cannot deny, but languages and criticisms, history and antiquity, strange opinions and odd speculations, serve often to clear and confirm very material and useful doctrines. My meaning therefore is, not that they are not to be looked into by a studious man at any time; all that I contend is, that they are not to be made our chief aim, nor first business, and that they are always to be handled with some caution : for since having but a little time we have need of much care in the husbanding of it, these parts of knowledge ought not to have either the first or greatest part of our studies: and we have the more need of this caution, because they are much in vogue amongst men of letters, and carry with them a great exterior of learning, and so are a glittering temptation in a studious man’s way, and such as is very likely to mislead him, 13—2 196 Appendix B. But if it were fit for me to marshal the parts of knowledge, and allot to any one its place and precedency, thereby to direct one’s studies, I should think it were natural to set them in this order. 1. Heaven being our great business and interest, the knowledge which may direct us thither is certainly so too, so that this is without peradventure the study that ought to take the first and chiefest place in our thoughts; but wherein it consists, its parts, method, and application, will deserve a chapter by itself. 2. The next thing to happiness in the other world, is a quiet pros- perous passage through this, which requires a discreet conduct and management of ourselves in the several occurrences of our lives. The study of prudence then seems to me to deserve the second place in our thoughts and studies. A man may be, perhaps, a good man (which lives in truth and sincerity of heart towards God,) with a small portion of prudence, but he will never be very happy in himself, nor useful to others without : these two are every man’s business. 3. If those who are left by their predecessors with a plentiful for- tune are excused from having a particular calling, in order to their sub- sistence in this life, it is yet certain that, by the law of God, they are under an obligation of doing something; which, having been judiciously treated by an able pen, I shall not meddle with; but pass to those who have made letters their business; and in these I think it is incumbent to make the proper business of their calling the third place in their study. This order being laid, it will be easy for every one to determine with himself what tongues and histories are to be studied by him, and how far in subserviency to his general or particular calling. Our happiness being thus parcelled out, and being in every part of it very large, it is certain we should set ourselves on work without ceasing, did not both the parts we are made up of bid us hold. Our bodies and our minds are neither of them capable of continual study, and if we take not a just measure of our strength, in endeavouring to do a great deal we shall do nothing at all. The knowledge we acquire in this world I am apt to think extends not beyond the limits of this life. The beatific vision of the other life needs not the help of this dim twilight; but be that as it will, I am sure the principal end why we are to get knowledge here, is to make use of it for the benefit of ourselves and others in this world ; but if by gaining it we destroy our health, we labour for a thing that will be useless in our hands, and if by harassing our bodies (though with a design to render ourselves more useful) we deprive ourselves of the abilities and opportu- nities of doing that good we might have done with a meaner talent, which God thought sufficient for us by having denied us the strength to improve it to that pitch which men of stronger constitutions can attain to, we rob God of so much service, and our neighbour of all that help, which, in a state of health, with moderate knowledge, we might have been able to perform. He that sinks his vessel by overloading it, though it be with gold and silver and precious stones, will give his owner but an ill account of his voyage. It being past doubt then, that allowance is to be made for the Of Study. 197 temper and strength of our bodies, and that our health is to regulate the measure of our studies, the great secretis to find out the proportion; the difficulty whereof lies in this, that it must not only be varied according to the constitution and strength of every individual man, but it must also change with the temper, vigour, and circumstances and health of every particular man, in the different varieties of health, or indisposition of body, which every thing our bodies have any commerce with is able to alter; so that it is as hard to say how many hours a day a man shall study constantly, as to say how much meat he shall eat every day, wherein his own prudence, governed by the present circumstances, can only judge... The regular proceeding of our watch not being the fit measure of time, but the secret motions of a much more curious engine, our bodies being to limit out the portion of time in this occasion—however, it may be so contrived that all the time may not be lost ; for the conver- sation ofan ingenious friend upon what one hath read in the morning, or any other profitable subject, may perhaps let into the mind as much improvement of knowledge, though with less prejudice to the health, as settled solemn poring over books, which we generally call study ; which, though a necessary part, yet I am sure is not the only, and perhaps not the best way, of improving the understanding. SL 2. Great care is to be taken that our studies encroach not upon our) sleep: this I am sure, sleep is the great balsam of life and restorative! of nature, and studious sedentary men have more need of it than the ac- tive and laborious, because those men’s business and their bodily labours, though they waste their spirits, help transpiration, and carry away their excrements, which are the foundation of diseases; whereas the studious sedentary man, employing his spirits within, equally or more wastes them than the other, but without the benefit of transpiration, allowing the matter of disease insensibly to accumulate. We are to lay by our books and meditations when we find either our heads or stomachs indis-| posed upon any occasion ; study at such time doing great harm to the body, and very little good to the mind. 1st. As the body, so the mind also, gives laws to our studies; I mean to the duration and continuance of them; let it be never so capacious, never so active, it is not capable of constant labour nor total rest. The labour of the mind is study, or intention of thought; and when we find it is weary, either in pursuing other men’s thoughts as in reading, or tumbling or tossing its own as in meditation, it is time to give off and let it recover itself. Sometimes meditation gives a refresh- ment to the weariness of reading, and zice wersd ; sometimes the change of ground, 7. ¢. going from one subject or science to another, rouses the mind, and fills it with fresh vigour; oftentimes discourse enlivens it when it flags, and puts an end to the weariness without stopping it one jot, but rather forwarding it in its journey; and sometimes it is so tired, that nothing but a perfect relaxation will serve the turn. All these are to be made use of according as every one finds most successful in himself to the best husbandry of his time and thought. 2nd. The mind has sympathies and antipathies as well as the body ; it has a natural preference often of one study before another. It would be well if one had a perfect command of them, and sometimes one is to try - 198 Appendix B. for the mastery, to bring the mind into order and a pliant obedience ; but generally it is better to follow the bent and tendency of the mind itself, so long as it keeps within the bounds of our proper business, wherein there is generally latitude enough. By this means, we shall go not only a great deal faster, and hold out a great deal longer, but the discovery we shall make will be a great deal clearer, and make deeper impressions in our minds. The inclination of the mind is as the palate to the stomach ; that seldom digests well in the stomach, or adds much i to the body, that nauseates the palate, and is not recommended y it. There is a kind of restiveness in almost every one’s mind ; some- times, without perceiving the cause, it will boggle and stand still, and one cannot get it a step forward ; and at another time it will press forward, and there is no holding it in. It is always good to take it when it is willing, and keep on whilst it goes at ease, though it be to the breach of some of the other rules concerning the body. But one must takecare of trespassing on that side too often, for one that takes pleasure in study, flatters himself that a little now, and a little to-morrow, does no harm, that he feels no ill effects of an hour’s sitting up—insensibly undermines his health, and when the disease breaks out, it is seldom charged to these past miscarriages that laid in the provision for it. The subject being chosen, the body and mind being both in a temper fit for study, what remains but that a man betake himself to it? These certainly are good preparatories, yet if there be not something else done, perhaps we shall not make all the profit we might. 1st. It is a duty we owe to God as the Fountain and Author of all truth, who is Truth itself, and it is a duty also we owe our ownselves, if we will deal candidly and sincerely with our own souls, to have our minds constantly disposed to entertain and receive truth wheresoever we meet with it, or under whatsoever appearance of plain or ordinary, | strange, new, or perhaps displeasing, it may come in our way. Truth is the proper object, the proper riches and furniture of the mind, and according as his stock of this is, so is the difference and value of one | man above another. He that fills his head with vain notions and false opinions, may have his mind perhaps puffed up and seemingly much enlarged, but in truth it is narrow and empty; fer all that it compre- hends, all that it contains, amounts to nothing, or less than nothing ; for falsehood is below ignorance, and a lie worse than nothing. Our first and great duty then is, to bring to our studies and to our inquiries after knowledge a mind covetous of truth ; that seeks after nothing else, and after that impartially, and embraces it, how poor, how contemptible, how unfashionable soever it may seem. This is that which all studious men profess to do, and yet it is that where I think very many miscarry. Who is there almost that has not opinions planted in him by education time out of mind, which by that means come to be as the municipal laws of the country, which must not be questioned, but are then looked on with reverence as the standards of right and wrong, truth and falsehood, when perhaps these so sacred opinions were but the oracles of the nursery, or the traditional grave talk of those who pretend to inform our childhood, who received them Of Study. 199 from hand to hand without ever examining them? This is the fate of our tender age, which being thus seasoned early, it grows by continuation of time, as it were, into the very constitution of the mind, which afterwards very difficultly receives a different tincture. When we are grown up, we find the world divided into bands and companies; not only as congregated under several politics and governments, but united only upon account of opinions, and in that respect, combined strictly one with another, and distinguished from others, especially in matters of religion. If birth or chance have not thrown a man young into any of these, which yet seldom fails to happen, choice, when he is grown up, certainly puts him into some or other of them; often out of an opinion that that party is in the right, and sometimes because he finds it is not safe to stand alone, and therefore thinks it convenient to herd somewhere. Now in every one of these parties of men there are a certain number of opinions which are received and owned as the doc- trines and tenets of that society, with the profession and practice whereof all who are of their communion ought to give up themselves, or else they will be scarce looked on as of that society, or at best, be thought but lukewarm brothers, or in danger to apostatize. It is plain, in the great difference and contrariety of opinions that are amongst these several parties, that there is much falsehood and abund- ance of mistakes in most of them. Cunning in some, and ignorance in others, first made them keep them up; and yet how seldom is it that implicit faith, fear of losing credit with the party or interest (for all these operate in their turns), suffers any one to question the tenet of his party ; but altogether in a bundle he receives, embraces, and without examining, he professes, and sticks to them, and measures all other opinions by them. Worldly interest also insinuates into several men’s minds divers opinions, which suiting with their temporal advantage, are kindly received, and in time so riveted there, that it is not easy to remove them. By these, and perhaps other means, opinions come to be settled and fixed in men’s minds, which, whether true or false, there they remain in reputation as substantial material truths, and so are seldom questioned or examined by those who entertain them; and if they happen to be false, as in most men the greatest part must necessarily be, they put a man quite out of the way in the whole course of his studies; and though in his reading and inquiries he flatters himself that his design is to inform his understanding in the real knowledge of truth, yet in effect it tends and reaches to nothing but the confirming of his already received opinions, the things he meets with in other men’s writings and discoveries being received or neglected as they hold proportion with those anticipa- tions which before had taken possession of his mind. * * * * * * 2. This grand miscarriage in our study draws after it another of less consequence, which yet is very natural for bookish men to run into, and that is the reading of authors very intently and diligently to mind the arguments pro and con they use, and endeavour to lodge them safe in their memory, to serve them upon occasion. This, when it succeeds to the purpose designed (which it only does in very good memories, and, indeed, is rather the business of the memory than judgment), 200 Appendix B. sets a man off before the world as a very knowing learned man, but upon trial will not be found to be so; indeed, it may make a man a ready talker and disputant, but not an able man. It teaches a man to be a fencer ; but in the irreconcileable war between truth and falsehood, it seldom or never enables him to choose the right side, or to defend it well, being got of it. He that desires to be knowing indeed, that covets rather the possession of truth than the show of learning, that designs to improve himself in the solid substantial knowledge of things, ought, I think, to take another course; z.e. to endeavour to get a clear and true notion of things as they are in themselves. This being fixed in the mind well (without trusting to or troubling the memory, which often fails us), always naturally sug- gests arguments upon all occasions, either to defend the truth or con- | found error. This seems to me to be that which makes some men’s discourses to be so clear, evident, and demonstrative, even in a few words; for it is but laying before us the true nature of any thing we would discourse of, and our faculty of reasoning is so natural to us, that the clear inferences do, as it were, make themselves: we have, as it were, an instinctive knowledge of the truth, which is always most acceptable to the mind, and the mind embraces it in its native and naked beauty. This way also of knowledge, as it is in less danger to be lost, because it burdens not the memory, but is placed in the judg- _ ment; so it makes a man talk always coherently and confidently to himself on which side soever he is attacked, or with whatever arguments the same truth, by its natural light and contrariety to falsehood, still shows, without much ado, or any great and long deduction of words, the weakness and absurdity of the opposition: whereas the topical man, with his great stock of borrowed and collected arguments, will be found often to contradict himself: for the arguments of divers men being often founded upon different notions, and deduced from contrary principles, though they may be all directed to the support or confutation of some one opinion, do, notwithstanding, often really clash one with another. 3. Another thing, which is of great use for the clear conception of truth, is, if we can bring ourselves to it, to think upon things ab- stracted and separate from words. Words, without doubt, are the great and almost only way of conveyance of one man’s thoughts to another man’s understanding ; but when a man thinks, reasons, and discourses within himself, I see not what need he has of them. I am sure it is better to lay them aside, and have an immediate converse with the ideas of the things; for words are, in their own nature, so doubtful and obscure, their signification, for the most part, so uncertain and undetermined, which men even designedly have in their use of them increased, that if in our meditations our thoughts busy themselves about words, and stick at the names of things, it is odds but they are misled or confounded. This, perhaps, at first sight may seem but an useless nicety, and in the practice, perhaps, it will be found more difficult than one would imagine; but yet upon trial I dare say any one’s experience will tell him it was worth while to endeavour it. He that would call to mind his absent friend, or preserve his memory, does it best and most effectually by reviving in his mind the idea of him, and contemplating - Of Study. 201 that; and it is but a very faint imperfect way of thinking of one’s friend barely to remember his name, and think upon the sound he is usually called by. ‘4. It is of great use in the pursuit of knowledge not to be too con- fident, nor too distrustful of our own judgment, nor to believe we can comprehend all things nor nothing. He that distrusts his own judgment in every thing, and thinks his understanding not to be relied on in the search of truth, cuts off his own legs that he may be carried up and down by others, and makes himself a ridiculous dependant upon the knowledge of others, which can possibly be of no use to him: for I can no more know any thing by another man’s understanding, than I can see by another man’s eyes. So much I know, so much truth I have got; so far I am in the right, as I do really know myself; whatever other men have it is in their possession, it belongs not to me, nor can be com- municated to me but by making me alike knowing; it is a treasure that cannot be lent or made over. On the other side, he that thinks his | understanding capable of all things, mounts upon wings of his own fancy, though indeed Nature never meant him any, and so venturing into the vast expanse of incomprehensible verities, only makes good the fable of Icarus, and loses himself in the abyss. We are here in the state of mediocrity ; finite creatures, furnished with powers and faculties very well fitted to some purposes, but very disproportionate to the vast and unlimited extent of things. 5. It would, therefore, be of great service to us to know how far our faculties can reach, that so we might not go about to fathom where our line is too short; to know what things are the proper objects of our inquiries and understanding, and where it is we ought to stop, and launch out no farther for fear of losing ourselves or our labour. This, perhaps, is an inquiry of as much difficulty as any we shall find in our way of knowledge, and fit to be resolved by a man when he is come to the end of his study, and not to be proposed to one at his setting out ; it being properly the result to be expected after a long and diligent research to determine what is knowable and what not, and not a question to be resolved by the guesses of one who has scarce yet acquainted him- self with obvious truths. I shall therefore, at present, suspend the thoughts I have had upon this subject, which ought maturely to be considered of, always remembering that things infinite are too large for our capacity; we can have no comprehensive knowledge of them, and our thoughts are at a loss and confounded when they pry too curiously into them. The essences also of substantial beings are beyond our ken; the manner also how Nature, in this great machine of the world, pro- duces the several phenomena, and continues the species of things in a successive generation, &c., is what I think also lies out of the reach of our understanding. That which seems to me to be suited to the end of man, and lie level to his understanding, is the improvement of natural experiments for the conveniences of this life, and the way of ordering himself so as to attain happiness in the other—z.e. moral philosophy, which, in my sense, comprehends religion too, or a man’s whole duty. 6th. For the shortening of our pains, and keeping us from incurable doubt and perplexity of mind, and an endless inquiry after greater 202 Appendix B. certainty than is to be had, it would be very convenient in the several points that are to be known and studied, to consider what proofs the matter in hand is capable of, and not to expect other kind of evidence than the nature of the thing will bear. * * * * * % 7th. A great help to the memory, and means to avoid confusion in our thoughts, is to draw out and have frequently before us a scheme of those sciences we employ our studies in, a map, as it were, of the mundus intelligibilis. This, perhaps, will be best done by every one himself for his own use, as best agreeable to his own notion, though the nearer it comes to the nature and order of things it is still the better. However, it cannot be decent for me to think my crude draught fit to regulate another’s thoughts by, especially when, perhaps, our studies lie different ways; though I cannot but confess to have received this benefit by it, that though I have changed often the subject I have been studying, read books by patches and accidentally, as they have come in my way, and observed no method nor order in my studies, yet making now and then some little reflection upon the order of things as they are, or at least I have fancied them to have [been] in themselves, I have avoided confusion in my thoughts: the scheme I had made serving like a regular chest of drawers, to lodge those things orderly, and in the proper places, which came to hand confusedly, and without any method at all. 8th. It will be no hinderance at all to our study if we sometimes study ourselves, ze. own abilities and defects. There are peculiar endowments and natural fitnesses, as well as defects and weaknesses, almost in every man’s mind; when we have considered and made ourselves acquainted with them, we shall not only be the better enabled to find out remedies for the infirmities, but we shall know the better how to turn ourselves to those things which we are best fitted to deal with, and so to apply ourselves in the course of our studies, as we may be able to make the greatest advantage. He that has a bittle and wedges put into his hand, may easily conclude he is ordered to cleave knotty pieces, and a plane and carving tools, to design handsome figures. * * * * * * I will only say this one thing concerning books, that however it has got the name, yet [converse with books is not, in my opinion, the principal part of study; there are two others that ought to be joined with it, each whereof contributes their share to our improvement in knowledge ; and those are meditation and discourse. Reading, me- thinks, is but collecting the rough materials, amongst which a great deal must be laid aside as useless. Meditation is, as it were, choosing and fitting the materials, framing the timbers, squaring and laying the stones, and raising the building; and discourse with a friend (for wrangling in a dispute is of little use,) is, as it were, surveying the structure, walking in the rooms, and observing the symmetry and agreement of the parts, taking notice of the solidity or defects of the works, and the best way to find out and correct what is amiss; besides Of Study. 203 that it helps often to discover truths, and fix them in our minds as much as either of the other two. It is time to make an end of this long and overgrown discourse. I shall only add one word, and then conclude ; and that is, that whereas in the beginning I cut off history from our study, as a useless part, as certainly it is where it is read only as a tale that is told; here, on the other side, I recommend it to one who hath well settled in his mind the principles of morality, and knows how to make a judgment on the actions of men as one of the most useful studies he can apply himself to. There he shall see a picture of the world and the nature of man- kind, and so learn to think of men as they are. There he shall see the rise of opinions, and find from what slight, and sometimes shameful occasions, some of them have taken their rise, which yet afterwards have had great authority, and passed almost for sacred in the world, and borne down all before them. There also one may learn great and useful instructions of prudence, and be warned against the cheats and rogueries of the world, with many more advantages which I shall not here enumerate. NOTES, The notes followed by the initials “J. F. P.” are by Dr J. F. Payne. 2 S$1,p. 1, I. 17. ¢ Nine parts of ten are what they are...by their education.” Locke says also in § 32, p. 20, L 35; “that the difference to be found in the manners and abilities of men is owing more to their educa- tion than to anything else.” He is taken to task by Hallam (Zi of Lurope) for exaggeration in these assertions. We must remember how- ever that Locke here uses ‘‘education” in a wide sense, and includes all influences from without. He has elsewhere pointed out the differ- ence it will make to a child whether you bring him up to be a plough- man or a courtier—a difference in manners and abilities producible even in the same individual, though we now attribute much influence to = heredity, which in Locke’s day was not thought of. Locke expresses himself carelessly ; but he does not ignore, as Hallam would make him, the differences due to natural disposition. ‘God has stamped certain" characters upon men’s minds which like their shapes may perhaps be a | little mended but can idly be totally altered and transformed into the contrary.” (Supra, § 66, p. 40, 1. 6.) Hallam says almost the same ‘thing : “In human Icing there are intrinsic dissimilitudes which no education can essentially overcome” (Lit. of Zurops Pt. iv. c. iv. '§ 56); and in saying it he supposes he is refuting Locke. Perhaps Locke’s meaning will be best understood by comparing with the text what he has said in the Conduct of the Understanding; ‘We are born with faculties and powers capable almost of anything, “Such at least as would carry us further than can easily be imagined; but it is | only the exercise of those powers which gives us ability and “SKill in _ anything, and leads us towards perfection.” He illustrates this with reference to the body by the instances of the clumsy ploughman on the one hand and the fingers of the musician and the legs of the dancing-master, on the other. Of the feats of rope- dancers and tumblers he says, ¢* All these admired motions, beyond the reach and almost conception of unpractised spectators, are nothing but the mere effects of use and industry in men whose bodies have nothing peculiar in them from those of the amazed lookers-on.” He goes on: ‘“ As it is in the body, so it is in the mind: practice makes it what it is ; and most even of those excellences which are looked on as natural endowments, will be found, when examined into more \ pp. 1—2] Notes. 205 narrowly, to be the product of exercise and to be raised to that pitch only by repeated actions.” Even skilful raillery and the art of telling apposite diverting stories Locke would attribute to long-continued efforts begun perhaps by accident. “Ido not deny,” says he, ‘“ that natural disposition may often give the first rise to it; but that never carries a man far without use and exercise; and it is practice alone that brings the powers of the mind, as well as those of the body, to their perfection.” Conversely he concludes that “defects and weak- ness in men’s understanding as well as other faculties come from want of - a right use of their own minds.” C. of U. § iv. ad f. Education according to Locke consists in exercising the abilities. Hence he at- tributes the difference in men more to this cause than any other. In one case out of ten Locke seems to think the natural character may be so strong as to hold its own against influences from without. I may remark that ‘“nine parts of'ten” means nine men in ten, and not, as I have said by mistake in Essays on Educational Reformers, nine parts of ten in every man. §2,p. 21.7. © Zhe Clay Cottage.” Perhaps this phrase was suggested by the then well-known lines of Waller : ‘The soul’s dark cottage battered and decayed Lets in new light through chinks that Time has made.” §2, p. 2,1 10. “T7hat study I have been thought more peculiarly to P y 8! 2 ey have applicd myself 10.” Locke’s actual practice as a physician seems to have been confined to the household of Lord Shaftesbury (vide Introduction). So we find in his remarks the mixture of good sense and scientific knowledge with some eccentricities and errors which a wider experience would quickly have corrected. What strikes us in his views is not only their reason- ableness, but what we may call their modernness. In this respect he reminds us of his friend Sydenham, the great reformer of practical medicine, whose merit it was to lead men back from complex and artificial systems resting on the assumption of precise dogmatic know- ledge, to more simple methods in which nature was followed rather than coerced. (J. F. P.) § 4s p- 2, L. 32. ““Cockering and Tenderness.” Locke here avows himself a partisan of the system of hardening, as opposed to that of protection, in rearing children. Each system has had its supporters at all times. Civilized men, noticing that more savage people are free from many of the diseases of what is called by the misleading name of artificial society, have often thought that this im- munity may be secured by imitating the rough practices of savage life. But it is now known that the duration of life among savages is, on the 206 Notes. Tepe average, less than in civilized nations. It appears too that with the immunity from minor ailments and greater power of undergoing hard- ships, there is even less power of resistance to attacks of serious epidemic diseases than the civilized man possesses. In short, each type of man, the civilized and the savage respectively, is strong against those evils to which he is inured, weak against those which are new to him. But if we test their power by comparing the resistance of each to untried circumstances, civilization appears to have the advantage. It is clear then that the training of the savage, even the ideal savage of Rousseau, cannot be taken as a model for those living under the actual circumstances of our life. On the other hand, there are theoretical grounds for the protective system ; while the body is growing, it may be said, let it be nourished as well as possible, that it may be afterwards better able to resist; and let it be shielded from all injury, since any injury may leave behind it some damage to the part affected ; and in a part thus damaged subse- quent disease will be more likely to occur. For instance, let a child get an acute rheumatism from cold, it will most probably grow up a damaged individual, more prone than another to serious disease. This also 1s plausible, but takes too little account of the force of habit. Physical habit is no less a fact than moral habit, and what we have gone through once, we can, if the parts are intact, better go through again. Certain limitations of this principle will be pointed out here- after. Experience has, I think, shewn the error of taking either principle, or any such principle, as an infallible guide. We shall do best, not even by the obvious expedient of aiming at the mean, but by judging every practice which forms a part of any system on its merits, experience being the final court of appeal. The real defence of the hardening system is that which is afterwards pointed out by Locke himself, namely that it prepares the body for encountering emergencies when the safeguards of ordinary life are wanting, not that it enables ordinary persons to live their ordinary life better. It is on this ground that Socrates (in Xenophon’s Memorabilia) defends his frugal and austere life as fitting him for the hardships of a campaign, since, as he says, every citizen may be called upon to be a soldier. The great objection to such a system is that it weeds out sickly children, though it does not follow that those who are weakest in early life are after- wards the least useful members of society; while the vigour of those who survive is attributed to the system, though it would probably have been the same in ordinary circumstances. The only modern nation which furnishes us with a perfect example of hardening is the Russian, where children are made to undergo the severest extremes of tem- perature, being sent out from over-heated rooms to run in the snow, with very insufficient clothing. The after-experience, if it may not be called the result, of this treatment, is well known. On the one hand, the Russian peasant is able to bear extremes of heat and cold which would be fatal to less hardy races; and this power of endurance be- comes in the soldier one of the chief foundations of Russian military strength. On the other hand, the death rate of the population is far higher than in any other European country, and the mortality among pp: 2—4] Notes. : 207 children is so great that it would elsewhere be thought positively appalling. (J. F. P.) Goldsmith, in his remarks on Locke’s hardening system, has antici- pated the latest decisions of science. He observes that ‘“savages and peasants are generally not so long lived as those who have led a more indolent life,” and that ‘the more laborious the life is, the less is the population of the country.” He sees that hardening involves the hardening of many children out of the world. ‘The number of those who survive those rude trials bears no proportion to those who die in the experiment.” He ridicules Locke’s belief in the omnipotence of habit by telling the following story of Peter the Great. Peter thought it would be convenient if his sailors drank sea-water, so he made an edict that the boys training for sea should be allowed to drink sea- water only. The boys died, so the habit was never established. (Gold- smith’s Essay on Education in 7%¢ Bee Nov. 10, 1759.) § 5, p- 2,1. 36. °° T%s use alone hardens it.” The fallacy of this argument appears to me to be this. We have no ground for attributing so much to the effect of custom in a single life- time, though doubtless custom in the course of generations may produce these and even greater effects. We cannot therefore expect, in one lifetime, to undo the work of centuries. Our bodies are what they are in virtue of having been covered for many generations: had they been uncovered during that time, they would be different. Rousseau and many later writers have fallen into the same error of ignoring the slow changes produced in physical organization by the continuous action of custom; and in some degree, by natural selection. (J. F. ».) §7, D 45 1. 5. © Cold water.” The use of cold baths is far more common in our time than in Locke’s, and there can be no doubt that the practice of washing the whole body with cold water every morning, as now practised, is a most valuable and healthy innovation. By this means we become hardened in the sense that we are far less likely to take cold. The reason also is clear, since we know that a cold bath exercises the regulative machinery of nerves and blood-vessels in the skin, by which the body is naturally protected against the injurious effects of cold. But for this purpose a momentary, and not a continued, application of cold is desirable; the continuous action of cold and wet to the skin is always injurious, and hence Locke’s proposal to make children’s shoes such that their feet should be constantly wet, must be dismissed as absurd and mischievous. It is hardly necessary to point out that this would be a very different thing from going barefoot. The latter practice is rejected by civilized men, chiefly on grounds of convenience and cleanliness ; not necessarily from the fear of cold. The notion of making shoes with holes in them is however not wholly a caprice of Locke’s. The same thing may be seen in the Highland brogues, which have holes to let out water; but this construction can only be convenient in actual wading, when the 208 : Notes. (pp. 4—6 shoes would otherwise become, so to speak, water-logged. A far better maxim is that attributed to the surgeon Abernethy, ‘“ Kecp your head cooly, and your feet warm.” (J. F. P.) § 7, p- 5 1. 3. * Health and Hardiness.” The following is Locke’s account of his experiment with Frank Masham : ¢“One Thing give me leave to be importunate with you about : You say your Son is not very strong; to make him strong, you must use him hardly, as I have directed ; but you must be sure to do it by very insensible Degrees, and begin an Hardship you would bring him to only in the Spring. This is all the Caution needs be used. I have an Example of it in the House I live in, where the only Son of a very tender Mother was almost destroy’d by a too tender Keeping. He is now, by a contrary Usage, come to bear Wind and Weather, and Wet in his Feet; and the Cough, which threaten’d him under that warm and cautious Management, has left him, and is now no longer his Parents’ constant Apprehension as it was.”—Locke to W. Molyneux, 23 Aug., 1693. $7, p. 5 1 15.“ How fond Mothers,” &e. I have pointed out in the Introduction, that Locke’s view of life was one-sided from his having been brought so little under the influence of women. He lost his mother, as it would seem, when he was young, and he never had sister or wife; so we can understand his looking to the father rather than the mother as the true educator. His want of sympathy with women is betrayed by the above absurd references to Seneca and Horace. In making them he must have fancied himself back in the Common Room at Christ Church. §7,p-6,1 2. “St Winifred’s Well.” About these waters see Psychrolusia, or a History of Cold Bathing, by Sir John Floyer, Kt., and Dr Edward Baynard, 2nd ed. 1706. The well, at which miracles were said to be wrought from A.D. 644, gave its name to a town now called Holywell in Flintshire. (J. F. 2.) wp. 6, 1. 5. Miracles done by Cold Baths.” It was only at the end of the 17th century that Englishmen first became aware of the benefits of cold bathing. The custom was, it appears, introduced from Holland and Germany, but here as in those countries, was first confined to the use of natural springs or wells of ancient reputation; later on baths in houses were used. In both cases, baths such as we now use for simple cleanliness or enjoyment were prescribed as of medicinal use. ~ Sir John Floyer in his Psyckrolusia, published about ten years after Locke’s tract, admits the practice of cold bathing had scarcely been used in England for 100 years. pp- 6, 7] Notes. 209 Wonderful cures such as Locke speaks of may be found in abun- dance in Floyer’s book as in others. The great Dr Willis, a contemporary of Locke’s, relates that he cured a young woman in a high fever when nothing else would cool her, by having her taken from her bed and thrown into the river, with proper precautions against drowning. He thus anticipated the most modern method of treating ‘‘ hyperpyrexia ” or extreme fever. But the therapeutic use of cold water was regarded in the 17th century, and rightly so, as a return to the practice of the Greek and Roman physicians. (J. F. P.) §9, p- 7,1. 10. “A Beau, but not a man of business.” The agreement between Locke and Montaigne will be seen from the following quotation: * Inure him to heat and cold, to wind and sun, and to dangers which he ought to despise; wean him from all effeminacy and delicacy in clothes and lodging, eating and drinking; accustom him to every thing, so that he may not be a Sir Paris (uz beau gargon), a Carpet-Knight, but a sinewy, hardy and vigorous young man.” (Montaigne’s Essays, Bk. 1. Ch. 25, Hazlitt’s Edition, i. p. 198.) §0,p- 7, 1. 14. “The nearer they [the daughters] come to the hardships of their brothers.” There is no doubt that in the physical training of girls a great im- provement has been made, at least in this country, since Locke’s time. But even now it cannot be too strongly insisted upon that games and exercises which strengthen the muscles, enlarge the chest, and assist all the digestive operations, are not only as beneficial to girls as to boys, but need to be made even more a special study in the case of the former, since girls do not spontaneously attend to this part of their education with the energy of the other sex. It should be laid down as a fixed principle that playgrounds and gymnasia are not only useful appendages to girls’ schools, but an absolutely essential part of the school machinery. (J. F. P.) § 10, p. 7, L. 21.“ Drinking cold drink when they are hot.” There is probably some ground for the very general belief that drinking cold water when hot is injurious ; but it is not easy to specify any important diseases, still less fatal ones, which can be clearly traced to this cause. In my own experience, I have never met with an instance of any serious disease thus induced, and very rarely of any even attributed to it. A few cases of trifling affections of the skin have been, with some plausibility, attributed to drinking while hot. It is well known to grooms that horses’ coats suffer by drinking cold water. It has been said that death from syncope or collapse may be the result, but this seems to me to require confirmation. The word fever was used very loosely in the time of Locke, but it may be taken for granted that nothing which we now call a fever could possibly be caused by the practice here repre- hended. (J. F. P.) Q. 14 210 Notes. [pp 8, 9 §11, p. 8, 1. 2. “That your son’s clothes be never made strait.” The pernicious practice of tight lacing has been so repeatedly, though never too strongly, condemned, that we would fain hope we had seen the last of it. Within the last half century there has no doubt been some return to the rule of reason and nature in woman’s dress; but the whirligig of time may bring the custom back again; and, in that case, we know that not the reasonableness of either sex will avail against the decrees of fashion. It may be worth while to point out precisely what are the evils resulting from tight lacing. They differ a little according to the point where the greatest pressure is applied; that is to say, according as the dress is what is called high-waisted or low-waisted. The very few cases in which I have myself been able to study the anatomy of the deformity thus produced belonged to the latter class. In this, the first injury is done to the liver, which is compressed in such a way as not only to interfere with the changes of bulk which this organ undergoes after taking food and at other times, but positively to alter its shape. In the next place, the liver being pressed upwards, encroaches on the thorax, and the breathing capacity of the lungs is seriously diminished. Furthermore, the lower ribs being pushed in must impede the action of the heart, and prevent the expansion of the lower parts of the lungs, so that their breathing power is still further diminished. Again, the circulation through the liver is hindered, which must inevitably interfere with the proper action: of all the abdominal viscera, the blood from which passes through the liver. In a high-waisted dress the pressure will come more im- mediately upon the ribs. The thorax is thus compressed, and will, in the end, become altered in shape. The liver is not pressed upwards, but becomes altered in shape, possibly in the way represented in a figure copied in several popular manuals of health. But this particular deformity I have never seen. The evils of tight dress are seldom seen in the other sex, except in the case of soldiers. In them, however, the effects of the tight leathern stock round the neck have been pointed out by army surgeons. Wearing a tight waistbelt produces a peculiar mark or scar round the liver, which must shew an injurious amount of pressure. (J. F. P.) Lest any one should suppose that the advance of science had ren- dered such warnings as the above superfluous, I copy the following from an advertisement which may now be seen in ladies’ newspapers and elsewhere : ¢ The — corset is most effective in reducing the figure and keeping the form flat, so as to enable ladies to wear the fashionable wétements of the day.” Another corset is also recommended as reducing the form and keeping it flat ‘“in accordance with the present fashion.” So it seems there are still people by whom the right shape of the human frame is regarded as a matter of fashion. § 13, p. 9» L 13. “If I might advise, Flesh should be forborne as long as he is in coats.’ The question at what age children ought to begin to eat meat has been much debated, not to speak of the extreme opinion of vegetarians p- 9] Notes. 211 that meat is not necessary at all. There can be no doubt, I think, that healthy children can do perfectly well without meat if they have a good supply of milk. Milk is, physiologically speaking, a more perfect food than meat, containing albumen, for which meat is chiefly valued, and many other things besides. Even when neither milk nor meat can be had, children may, if they have been suckled at the breast for the normal period, be brought up upon well-selected food of other kinds, but the experiment is not to be recommended. Looking at other cases than those of perfect health (since this we do not often meet with), it cannot be denied that meat is, if not necessary, still a most desirable part of the diet of children, after two years of age, especially in a cold climate, and in a race which has for many generations been accustomed to animal food. Moreover, in our own time and country a large part of childrens’ ailments are of the cachectic kind, that is to say, shewing imperfect nutrition, even when food is taken, apparently, i in abundance. In such cases, meat is so much the most convenient, concentrated and efficient kind of food, that great harm would be done if any prejudice existed against its use, and even if it were thought that some definite disease, or a doctor’s orders, were necessary to justify its use. Apart from the special principles contained in meat alone, to which the great chemist Liebig attached so much importance, it should be remembered that the precise kind of nourishment furnished by meat can only be obtained from other food in greater bulk, with more waste, and by throwing more work on the digestive organs. Locke’s principle, there- fore, cannot be accepted implicitly, though probably there was in the 17th century an inordinate consumption of meat among the upper classes, and among all except the very poor. I doubt if there is now, in middle-class families, very often much excess in this par- ticular. The fault is common among the working classes in times of prosperity. Parents think that the best way of shewing their affection to their children is to stuff them with the greatest quantity and variety of food, an error which, mischievous as it is, is easily intelligible in those who know by near example, or even perhaps by their own experience, what are the pangs of hunger. (J. F. P.) §14,p.0,1. 40. * Sugar.” The prejudice against sugar as a food for children is probably with- out foundation. It is so important a part of human milk, that when children are weaned, there is every reason for believing it to be a neces- sary part of their diet. Excess is, of course, both possible and injurious in this as in other things, and in the case of sugar, for obvious reasons particularly easy. But it is better to give children plenty of sugar in their food than to encourage them to satisfy their natural craving by desultory and irregular consumption of miscellaneous sweets. It should not be forgotten that in Locke’s time sugar, as an imported article, was more of a luxury than now. (J. ¥. P.) §14, P. 9, 1. 41. “Spices.” Spices and seasonings stand on altogether different ground from sugar, Children do not need them at all if their appetites are normal, 14—2 212 Notes. [pp. 9—11 A reference to some old cookery books of the 17th century will shew what extraordinary combinations our ancestors called by the name of seasoned dishes. For children there can be nothing better than the modern plain English cookery, and we see in some of the best French families a tendency to imitate us in our nursery diet, though it be in an art in which the English are assumed to be deficient beyond all others. (J.-B. Pp.) § 14, p. 10, L. 1. “May heat the blood.” The phrase to ‘‘heat the blood ” still survives in popular language as a relic of ancient science. It would take long to explain what theo- retical meaning attached to it. Real significance it has none. (J. F.P.) § 14, p- 10, L. 27. * Two meals a day.” There has been much discussion about the proper number of daily meals. For the present purpose, it may be sufficient to point out that children require food much oftener than adults; the consumption, and hence the chemical change of food within their bodies, being more rapid. No object can be served by keeping them long fasting, and there can, I suppose, be little objection to the modern practice of giving children three chief meals in the day, at one only of which is meat necessary, unless in exceptional cases. A piece of bread between meals is often desirable and seldom, if ever, injurious. With respect to the force of custom, the remark made above will apply; namely, that custom is formed, not in one lifetime, but in many. (J. F. P. § 15, p. 11, L. 30. “7 would have no time kept constantly to meals.” It is impossible to approve of the suggestion that children should have their meals at irregular hours. Both experience and physiological theory point to the advantages of regularity in this respect. The waste of the body is constant, and, to a certain extent, independent even of exertion. If this waste be not periodically made up for by proper nutrition, there is a real danger that the organs, especially in growing children, may be actually damaged by working them when their nutrition is low. It should never be forgotten that fatigue in itself and for itself is bad. This is well known to trainers and teachers of gymnastics, who find by experience that moderate exercise of the muscles, for instance, in a well-nourished body, favours their growth; but that excessive exercise, or what is the same thing, exercise in a badly nourished body, rather tends to cause wasting. There is also reason to believe that the heart suffers (becoming dilated) if a call is made upon its activity during a prolonged fast. The only reason given by Locke for this curious suggestion is that the body may be trained to endure hardship, which is a very different thing. But it will be time enough to think of this when the period of childhood, or even that of growth, is over. (J. F. p.) p- 12] Notes. 213 § 16, p. 12, L. 13. “His drink should be only small beer.” It may excite surprise that Locke should have recommended small beer, and not water, as the proper beverage of children; but it must be remembered, in the first place, that in his time water was practically hardly ever taken as the habitual beverage by persons of any age. I cannot find it recommended in any of the books about health, which were so numerous in the 17th and preceding centuries®, and learned books were even written expressly against water-drinking. There was also a widely spread notion that sundry evils might result from drinking too much, or even any, cold water. The source of these ideas is no doubt to be sought chiefly in tradition and prejudice; but it is just possible that this prejudice may have arisen from the fact that drinking- water in cities during the middle ages, and up till our own times, was very frequently polluted. That is to say, actual experience of the effects of drinking such water during times of pestilence may have fixed firmly in the minds of the people the idea of its unwholesomeness. Be this as it may, small beer was certainly regarded as the drink of temperate people. Sydenham recommends gouty persons to drink beer in preference to either wine or water. An illustration of the popular feeling on the subject is found in the play called ¢ The London Prodigal,’ at one time attributed to Shakespear, where a refined young lady declines to take the sack which is ordered for the party at an inn, and asks for a cup of small beer. Moreover, the London beer of that time was no doubt very weak. It was probably even less potent than the light German beer of the present day, and very different from anything which is now made by London brewers. It is even less easy to see why Locke did not recom- mend milk as the drink for children. Tea and coffee, though not unknown in Locke’s time, were of course regarded as narcotic luxuries. As for recommending them for children, it would have been thought quite as reasonable to suggest that they should learn to smoke tobacco. There can be no doubt that pure water is the right beverage of child- hood, milk being substituted at the morning and evening meal. Beer is quite unnecessary, and generally better avoided, at least till the age of fourteen or fifteen. We unfortunately often find injurious indulgence to children in this respect, as in that of over-eating, among the more prosperous of the working classes ; rather here perhaps than in better edu- cated families. Itisdifficult to treat seriously Locke’s suggestion that beer should be brought to a blood heat before it can be drunk safely; for if beer generally is unwholesome, warm beer is certainly more so, and nasty into the bargain. Locke seems to have had an unreasonable fear of allowing children to quench their natural thirst. There can be no objection to letting children drink pure water whenever they are thirsty, with the limitations pointed out in the preceding remarks. (J. F. P.) * Hart's Diet of the Diseased, London, 1633, is an exception. But the author evidently regards water-drinking as a counsel of perfection not likely to be followed. See on the other side, Hep. Yvxpomoaias, Of Drinking Water, against our Novelists that prescribed it in England, by Dr Richard Short, London, 1656. Dr Venner, of Bath, who promised to shew his readers which is the Via Recta ad Vitam Longam (London, 1638), warns them against water-drinking. 214 Notes. [pp. 13—17 § 19, p. 13, Ll. 18. “Wine, or strong drink.” Locke’s remarks upon this point can hardly be too strongly confirmed, on moral, as well as on physical grounds. But we must include modern beer among strong drinks. (J. F. P.) § 20, p 13,L 35. Fruit? Locke’s advice about giving fruit to children is confirmed in a general way by modern experience. But the reason of his entirely forbidding grapes is not easy to see; for when ripe, they are perhaps the most wholesome of all fruit; and the experience of the so-called grape-cure on the Continent shews that they may be eaten in immense quantities, if not with benefit, at all events without harm. Children of the present day are fortunate in being able to get ripe oranges, since these supply the salts and acids which make fruit an important part of our diet, in the best and most agreeable form. (J. F.P.) §a1,p-16, 1. 12. “Slip.” In his remarks about sleep Locke is generally at one with modern experience. It is characteristic of his attention to minute details that he should give a caution against awakening children too suddenly ; but in this respect, too, the practice of the best nurses and most careful mothers will be found to bear him out. (J. F.P.) The original authority in this case seems to be the father of Mon- taigne. Montaigne says: ‘‘Some being of opinion that it troubles and disturbs the brains of children suddenly to wake them in the morning, and to snatch them violently and over-hastily from sleep (wherein they are much more profoundly involved than we), he [the father] caused me to be wakened by the sound of some musical instru- ment, and was never unprovided of a musician for that purpose.” Montaigne’s Essays, Chap. 25, ad fin. (Hazlitt’s edition, i. p. 213). § 22, p. 16, L. 31. “Down beds.” Such beds seem to have gone or to be going out of fashion, and with reason. Either a hair or spring mattrass is the best for children as for every one else. (J. F. P.) $23, p- 17, |. 16. ** Costiveness.” Locke’s remarks on this point are so sensible that little more need be said, except strongly to recommend all who keep schools and are not above their business, to aim at the formation of good habits about such matters in their pupils, as the best foundation of sound health in after life. It may not be amiss to point out that in large schools there is not always sufficient provision made for punctual obedience to such precepts. We sometimes find a good house occupied as a school with no further convenience of this kind than what was provided by the builder for a single family. The bad effects of this neglect are obvious. (J. 7. P.) pp. 18—20] Notes. 21g $25, p18, L153. “Lews? Zleus=iliaca passio; disease of the ileum or small intestine, but more specially obstruction, arising from what was called volvulus, or a kink in the bowel. In such a case the ordinary onward peristaltic motion is reversed ; and a backward movement results, ending, as Locke hints, in vomiting. (J. F. P.) § 25, p- 18,1. 18." “Spirits”? Though the word spirits had a special theoretical meaning in the old medicine, it was used in very nearly the same sense in which we now say nervous influence, or nerve-force. The latter term is perhaps quite as open to theoretical objection as spi7its. (J. F. P.) § 25, p. 18, L. 23. ‘“ Madam Cloacina.” Cloaca is the Lat. for sewer, as is well known from the Cloaca Maxima at Rome. Cloacina is the chief * nymph who reigns o’er sewers and sinks.” § 29, p- 19, 1. 33. “Newer to give children any Physick for Pre- vention.” Readers of the present day can hardly appreciate the novelty and boldness of this advice. It was in Locke’s time universally believed that diseases, especially epidemics, could be guarded against by some preventive drugs. This notion was a very ancient one, coming down from times even anterior to the age of Galen. All the old books of medicine are full of such prescriptions, the most celebrated of which were Mithridatium, bearing the name of the celebrated king of Pontus, and Z%eriacum (the modern freacle), the composition of which was ascribed to Andromachus, physician to the Emperor Nero. Such com- positions were supposed to be in the first place antidotes to poisons, then preservative or prophylactic against poison, and generally against all infections or diseases. Many such medicines under the name of ‘‘Alexipharmaca” or ‘Diet drinks” were commonly taken, and in times of pestilence were strongly recommended for general use in the Official Regulations set forth by the Government with the advice of the College of Physicians. It is very likely that the occurrence of Plague in London in 1665 had again brought these drugs into vogue, and given a fresh stimulus to their consumption which had lasted till Locke's time. It need hardly be said that Locke's advice is most reasonable and ‘““sacredly to be observed,” as there is no reason to believe (modern quackery notwithstanding) that any drug has any prophylactic power against diseases. (J. F. P.) § 29, p. 20, 1. 8. “Red Poppy water, which is the true surfeit water.” The leaves of the Red Poppy are as nearly as possible inert medicinally, and are admitted into the modern European pharma- 216 Notes. [pp. 20, 21 copeias chiefly as a colouring matter. *‘Surfeit waters” were given by the old physicians against the vague and inscrutable complaint known as a sw7feiz. But what they meant by this a modern physician finds it extremely difficult to divine. (J. F. P.) § 20, p. 20, 1. 18. “Nut fo be too forward in making use of Physick and Physicians.” In this advice Locke is certain to have the concurrence of those who have ‘‘spent some time in the study of Physick ” if, at least, they have spent their time to any purpose. A physician of the present day, Dr Chambers, remarks that a family medicine-chest may be an ex- cellent thing, but it should be placed in the store-room of the house, where it cannot be got at without some trouble. (J. F. P.) We see in Locke’s correspondence with the brothers Molyneux (one of them a doctor himself) how free the philosopher was from the com- mon errors of the physicians of his time. To Dr Molyneux he writes that physicians lay the foundation of their system ‘‘on their own fancies and then endeavour to suit the phenomena of diseases and the cure of them to those fancies” (L. to Dr M. 20 Ja. 1693). Some years later (15 June, 1697) he writes to W. Molyneux, “You cannot imagine how far a little observation carefully made by a man not tied up to the four humours, or sal, sulphur and mercury, or to acid and alcali which has of late prevailed, will carry a man in the curing of diseases though very stubborn and dangerous; and that with very little and common things and almost no medicine at all.” § 30, p. 20, lL. 20. We find then that in Locke’s summary there is but one point. which has to be corrected, namely that about keeping children’s feet wet. (J. F. P.) § 34, p- 21, 1. 29. “Solon very well replied.” Locke seems quoting Montaigne from memory. In the Chap. De la Coustume (the 22nd), Montaigne gives the conversation *¢ Platon tansa un enfant qui jouoit aux noix. II luy respondit : ‘Tu me tanses de peu de chose’ ¢L’accoustumance,’ repliqua Platon, ‘n’est pas chose de peu.’” Coste says that the original au- thority Diogenes Laertius makes Plato reprove a man for playing at dice. That Locke was thinking of Montaigne’s Essay is almost certain from his following it in next section. (See following note.) § 35, p- 21, L. 31. © Zhe fondling must be taught to strike.” Here Locke is following up the train of thought suggested by Montaigne. After the anecdote of Plato (which Locke gives to Solon) quoted in preceding note, Montaigne goes on: ‘‘I find that our greatest vices derive their first propensity from our most tender infancy, and that our principal education depends upon the nurse. Mothers are mightily pleased to see a child writhe off the neck of a chicken, or to please pp. 21—33] Notes. 217 itself with hurting a dog or a cat; and such wise fathers there are in the world, who look upon it as a notable mark of a martial spirit when they hear a son miscall or see him domineer over a poor peasant, or a lackey that dares not reply nor turn again; and a great sign of wit when they see him cheat and overreach his play-fellow by some malicious treachery and deceit. Yet these are the true seeds and roots of cruelty, tyranny and treason; they bud and put out there, and after- wards shoot up vigorously and grow to prodigious bulk cultivated by custom. And it is a very dangerous mistake to excuse these vile inclinations upon the tenderness of their age and the triviality of the subject: first, it is Nature that speaks, whose declaration is then more sincere, and inward thoughts more undisguised, as it is more weak and young; secondly, the deformity of cozenage does not consist nor de- pend upon the difference betwixt crowns and pins; but I rather hold it more just to conclude thus: why should he not cozen in crowns since he does it in pins? than as they do who say, they only play for pins, they would not do it if it were for money. Children should carefully be instructed to abhor vices for their own contexture; and the natural deformity of those vices ought so to be represented to them, that they may not only avoid them in their actions, but especially so to abominate them in their hearts, that the very thought should be hateful to them with what mark soever they may be disguised.” (Book 1. Chap. 22, * OF Custom.” Haalitt's Ed. i. pp. 1151.) § 37, p- 23, L. 20. * Give me a blow,” &c. Pr 23 The meaning is: Grown people say to children, ‘* Give me a blow and T’ll pass it on to So-and-so.” § 40, p. 27, L. 8. “Establish the authority of a father.’ Lady Masham says: ‘From Mr Locke I have often heard of his father that he was a man of parts. Mr L. never mentioned him but with great respect and affection. His father used a conduct towards him when young that he often spoke of afterwards with great approba- tion. It was the being severe to him by keeping him much in awe and at a distance when he was a boy; but relaxing, still by degrees, of that severity as he grew up to be a man, till, he being become capable of it, he lived perfectly with him as a friend. And I remember he has told me that his father, after he was a man, solemnly asked his pardon for having struck him once in a passion when he was a boy.” (F. B.i. 13.) § 51, p. 31, L. 30. “ZZ often brings.” Texts of different editions shew variations here. The first edition has: ‘it is often by bringing.” This Locke probably wrote, but it makes an awkward sentence. § 54) P- 33; Ll. 12. ““ Good and evil, reward and punishment, are the only motives to a rational creature.” I do not understand Locke to assert that nothing weighs with “a rational creature” but considerations of personal loss and gain. 218 Notes. [pp 33, 34 The meaning is, I take it, as follows: A rational creature is influenced not by passions, or by likes and dislikes, but by a calculation of what will produce good and evil either to himself or others. The good or evil following from certain actions is the reward or punishment of those actions. In this sense Locke seems to say that reward and punishment are the only motives to a rational creature; yet even a rational creature may sometimes act from feeling without calculation. Deeds as well as words may come straight ‘‘out of the abundance of the heart.” The influence of /aéit too is much dwelt upon by Locke himself. Locke's worship of reason led him to over-estimate the influence of reflection and calculation ; and in this section he attributes to ‘“all mankind” a con- stant eye to the future, though most people are for by far the greater portion of their lives dominated entirely by the present. § 56, P. 34, 1. 9. “Get into children a love of credit...the great secret of education.” In this Locke is at one with the Jesuits; but I know of no other authority who would make the great secret of education lie in what we may call Grundyism. In § 61 Locke admits that Reputation is not the true principle and measure of virtue, but says that it comes nearest to the true principle. But why make so much of anything short of the true? The desire of reputation considered as a force is subject to great variations both in strength and direction. In strength it varies not only with individual character, but also with the time of life. A man who when young was so desirous of reputation that he would almost have thrown himself down Etna to gain it, past middle age will hardly consider this a strong enough motive for walking up. Again, the direction of the force depends entirely on the notions of the people whom we want to please. Love of reputation acts quite as strongly in making youths like Charley Bates and the Dodger wish to pick pockets well, as it acts in making candidates for Balliol Scholarships wish to do good Latin and Greek composition. There seems some danger of increasing this force as Locke would increase it, when we cannot be sure of the direction in which it would act. In these days it is quite as likely to turn a young gentleman into a half-professional athlete as into a useful member of society. The influence of reputation seems to have been much in Locke’s thoughts, and he does not underrate the variety in the effects produced by it. The following occurs in his diary: “Dec. 12th, 1678. The prin- cipal spring from which the actions of men take their rise, the rule they conduct them by, and the end to which they direct them, seems to be credit and reputation, and that which they at any rate avoid is in the greatest part shame and disgrace. This makes the Hurons and other people of Canada with such constancy endure inexpressible torments. This makes merchants in one country and soldiers in another. This puts men upon school divinity in one country, and physics and mathe- matics in another. This cuts out the dresses for the women, and makes the fashions for the men; and makes them endure the inconveniences of all. This makes men drunkards and sober, thieves and honest; and PD: 34—45] Notes. 219 thieves themselves true to one another. Religions are upheld by this, and factions maintained; and the shame of being disesteemed by those with whom one hath lived, and to whom one would recommend oneself, is the great source and director of most of the actions of men. Where riches are in credit, knavery and injustice that produce them are not out of countenance, because the state being got, esteem follows it; as in some countries the crown ennobles the blood. (Where power and not the good exercise of it gives reputation, all the injustice, falsehood, violence and oppression that attains that, goes for wisdom and ability. Where love of one’s country is the thing in credit, there we shall see a race of brave Romans; and when being a favourite at court was the only thing in fashion, one may observe the same race of Romans all turned flatterers and informers. He therefore that would govern the world well had need consider rather what fashions he makes than what laws 5 and to bring anything into use he need only give it reputa- tion.’ § 66, p. 40, L. 2. ¢ The child's natural genius and constitution.” Locke in this section approaches the truth which is much dwelt on by later writers on education, that education gzzes nothing, but only exercises and trains inborn capacities. Locke sees that ‘‘ those who are about children should well study their natures and aptitudes,” but this is mainly with the view of ascertaining individual peculiarities. With him it is not a general law, but merely a yielding to special weaknesses “in many cases,” that “all that we can do or should aim at is to make the best of what Nature has given.” Here he is immeasurably behind Rousseau who demands that the science of education should be based on the study of the common nature of children. § 67, P. 44, 1. 13.“ 70 hare and rate them.” To hare is to urge or set on by threats or blows. § 69, p- 45. Locke’s note. Locke considers it a waste of time to quote authorities in matters where our own reason may decide. (Of Study.) He is therefore sparing in notes; indeed this is the only note in the Z/%owughts. Coste has con- sulted Suetonius and Plutarch. The first tells us that Augustus himself taught his grandson to write. Plutarch in his life of Cato the Censor gives an account of the care which Cato took of his son even as an infant. He would neglect anything except public affairs to wait on the child and wash him and play with him. Later on he himself taught the child his letters although he had a slave who was a good instructor. But he did not wish his son to be beholden to a slave for his learning or to be corrected by a slave when he neglected his lessons. He after- wards taught him the laws and instructed him in all martial exercises and in swimming. He even wrote in a large hand the lives of great men that the boy might imitate their examples. And he was as careful in his language before the boy as he would have been with a Vestal Virgin, 220 Notes. [pp- 46, 47 § 70, p- 46, L. 14. “The Master to look after the manners.’ It is quite true that the masters in public schools do not attempt to teach manners, at least directly, but the schools seem to teach manners if not the schoolmasters. ‘Boys who learn nothing else at our public schools,” says Thackeray, “learn at least good manners, or what we consider to be such.” (MNewcomes, Chap. XXI. ad in.); and I suppose nobody would seriously maintain that public-schoolmen as a class are inferior in * breeding” to their social equals who have been brought up at home or in private schools. This appeal to results seems to me decisive against Locke’s @ priori reasoning. § 70, p. 47, I. 30. “Strip him of that he has got from his companions or give him up to ruin.” Fear of moral corruption led a much less strict moralist than Locke, 2iz. Lord Chesterfield, to desire that his successor in the title might be brought up by a tutor. * This person,” he writes, “should be desired to teach him his religious and moral obligations, which are never heard of nor thought of at a public school, where even Cicero’s Offices are never read, but where all the lewdness of Horace, Juvenal and Martial is their whole study, and as soon as they are able their practice.” (Chesterfield’s Lezfers about education of his successor, p. 28). Thus both Locke and Chesterfield seem to think that a boy could not live a virtuous life at a public school; but there is, thank God, no reason for such a belief now. So if we apply Locke’s argument to the present state of things it breaks down. This is his argument: the chief thing a boy gains in a public school is ‘sturdiness and the power of standing on his own legs.” What is the use of this sturdiness? Why, that it may be a safeguard to his virtue. But if he goes to a public school he will gain the sturdiness at the cost of his virtue, the very thing it should protect. The reply to this is simple. A boy does not, in these days at least, necessarily become vicious in a public school. He will no doubt be subjected to some temptations that he would have escaped at home ; but he will always find a number of well-disposed boys ready to aid him in keeping the right path. And the mind, like the body, may suffer from too much “cockering and tenderness.” It is strange that Locke who sees that rules and precepts are of little use, who teaches that habit is everything, and that the chief force in forming habit is the company we keep, nevertheless desires to bring up a youth in such seclusion that he would be quite unprepared for the company of equals, and would have formed no habits suitable for such company when he was suddenly introduced into it. As I have elsewhere said, Locke’s notion of teaching knowledge of the world by means of an experienced tutor, is like pre- paring a man to steer a vessel by getting a pilot to give him lessons on shore. ‘Nobody is made anything by hearing of rules or laying them up in his memory ; practice must settle the habit of doing without reflecting on the rule; and you may as well hope to make a good painter or musician extempore by a lecture and instruction in the arts of music and painting as a coherent thinker or a strict reasoner by a set of rules shewing him wherein right reasoning consists.” (C.of U. §4.) Is PP: 47—52] Notes. 221 not the art of temperate and judicious living among our equals to be learnt by practice like the art of right reasoning? (Cf. supra, p. 74, lI. g—20.) § 70, p- 49, L. 30. ¢¢ Vice...ripens so fast now-a-days.” Locke's righteous soul was so vexed by the depravity which reigned after the Restoration that he formed many plans for migrating to the New World. It is interesting to find that he looked to education for the remedy as the philosopher Fichte did in the dark days of Germany. § 70, p- 50, L. 11. “Some late actions at Sea.” ¢“ These words were written,” says Coste, ‘‘ during the war which ended in the Peace of Ryswick, 1697.” Only the first short paragraph of this important section appears in the first edition (1693), so the above passage must have been written about 1695. Perhaps our defeat at Beachey Head was in Locke’s mind. The truth of what he says was borne out a few years later when two captains left Benbow to fight the French by himself, and were afterwards tried by court-martial and shot for doing so. : § 70, p- 51, L. 1. “ Engage them in conversation with men of parts and breeding.” This is in accordance with the mediaeval practice in the bringing up of gentlemen. The boys served an apprenticeship to life as pages in the household of some nobleman. Now-a-days were it not for the long holidays (of which parents are constantly complaining) youths would seldom speak with any grown persons but schoolmasters, servants and tradesmen. Hence the amount of thought and conversation devoted to school subjects, especially the games, is out of all proportion to the import- ance of those subjects. See an excellent article by Mr Edward Lyttelton on ‘“ Athletics in Public Schools” (The Nineteenth Century for January, 1880). § 73, p- 52, L. 27. “None of the things they are to learn should ever be...imposed on them as a task.” Schoolmasters are inclined to laugh when they first read Locke’s suggestions about giving boys ‘‘a liking and inclination to what you propose to them to be learned.” He seems to think that one employ- ment is in itself as pleasant as another, and that it is the restraint only which sets children against their lessons. But though things are often made distasteful by unnecessary and over-long restraint, and by bad teaching, there is a difference in the things themselves, as the learners soon discover. Some lessons are popular, some unpopular ; some are liked or disliked by some boys ; others by other boys. So there is no denying that all lessons cannot be made equally attractive. When this is admitted it will further be seen that the most attractive lesson cannot be made as agreeable as the most attractive game, or even, to some 222 Notes. [pp. 52—60 boys at any rate, as the least attractive game. A boy who is good at history may find pleasure in the history lesson; but for all that he would probably sooner be in the open air playing fives or cricket. The notion then that the work may be made so pleasant that no compulsion will be required seems to me (to use a modern cant phrase) “out of the sphere of practical didactics.” But I would by no means infer from this, as some schoolmasters are inclined to, that the teacher is mainly a driver. I doubt very much whether the mind (the mind of a young person at all events) can work with any profit when it takes no interest and finds no pleasure in the subject. After many years’ experience I am even inclined to agree with Locke (against Arnold by the way) that boys as a body are not idle, and that they are ‘never sparing of their pains” (§ 74. p. 54) if the work be suitable to their abilities. If the work is distasteful and the boys seem idle the teacher should seek the cause of this in a mistaken choice of subject for those pupils, or in his method of dealing with the subject. The great thing to secure #n the end is, as Locke says, that ‘‘ the mind should get an habitual mastery over itself,” and be able to ¢‘betake itself to new and less acceptable employments without reluctance and discomposure ” (§ 75, p- 54, 1. 38); but this does not come of dreary hours spent in simulated attention and real intellectual apathy. § 78, p- 56, I. 41. © There is but one fault for whick children should be beaten.” Locke in his eagerness to do away with the too ready use of blows, has invented a limitation which proves much narrower than it seems to be. I have heard of a country where there was no imprisonment for debt, but where many people were in confinement for contumacious re- fusal to pay. Similarly it turns out that Locke’s rule only protects a child from blows for a first offence. If he tells a lie a second time, or even if he goes on in a course of idleness after due warning, the offence becomes disobedience, obstinacy, or rebellion, and is visited with the rod. § 81, p. 60, L. 29. “Reasoning with children.” J. Warton records a saying of Locke’s friend the first Lord Shaftes- bury : ‘ That wisdom lay in the heart, not in the head ; and that it was not the want of knowledge but the perverseness of the will that filled men’s actions with folly and their lives with disorder.” (Note to Absalon and Achitopkel.) Locke however always prefers appealing to the head. How far this can be done with young people is a very interesting question. Locke shrewdly observes that they are pleased by being treated as rational creatures. This is true enough, for they soon like the respect which they seldom get, but which they see shewn to those who are older. But in reasoning with children it is very difficult to be quite honest with them. They cannot understand the whole matter, and the grown person is tempted to give as the reason that which is only in part the reason or perhaps not the real reason at all. Flattered by the appeal children, and youths even, allow very readily pp. 60—68] Notes. 223 anything that is put before them, and are convinced upon authority if 1 may use such a seeming contradiction. Still, nothing can be more unwise than to treat children like sheep and never even try to under- stand what #teir view may be. That they will ‘‘reason” with or without a guide is absolutely certain; so where we can we had better take their minds with us. In the case of boys, a master cannot consider too carefully the public opinion he has to deal with, and only in very exceptional circumstances should he go counter to it. ‘ Montaigne gives even children credit for power of reflecting and would teach them “philosophy.” ‘Un enfant en est capable au partir de la nourrisse, beaucoup mieux que d’apprendre a live ou escrive. La Philosophie a des discours pour la naissance des hommes comme pour la decrepitude. A child when he leaves his nurse is better fitted for philosophy than for learning to read and write. Philosophy has teaching for the dawn of life as well as for its close.” (Zssais, Bk. I ch. 25.) § 83, p. 62, I. 29. “Zhe smart should come immediately from another's hand.” The plan here recommended is that of the Jesuits. According to their rules corporal punishment is inflicted by a corrector who is not a Jesuit. But as a Roman Catholic writer, L. Kellner (in his Z7zie- hungs-geschichte), has well said, the employment of an executioner changes the nature of the punishment, and gives it a judicial rather than a parental character. The object of the punishment being solely the child’s good it should be inflicted by the parent or the person standing Zz loco parentis. The notion that the child will think of the inflicter as the cause of the pain is as little reasonable as that he will try to be revenged on the stick or the birch. § 90, p. 66, 1. 40. “Children should from their first beginning to talk have some discreet, sober, nay wise person about them.” In Locke’s directions about the tutor he might have quoted Mon- taigne, who advises that a man should be chosen with a good head rather than a full one (plustost la teste bien faicte que bien plein). But Locke is more exigeant in this matter than Montaigne ; and his notion that a tutor is no more to be changed than a wife is peculiarly his own. § 91, p. 68,1. 4. “Montaigne.” Although Locke seems much under the influence of Montaigne (see Introduction p. 1) he refers to him here only and that by mistake as according to Coste who edited the Essays no such anecdote occurs in them. Montaigne (1533—1592) preceded Locke by 99 years. The 24th and 25th Essays of the First Book (Of Pedantry and Of the Edu- cation of Children) have become classical in education. They have been translated and published for students of education, with portions of bk. 111. chaps. 8, 12, 13 which bear on the same subject; but the translation is German not English. 224 Notes. [pp. 68—8o0 § 91, p. 68, L. 5. ¢ Zhe learned Castalio.” Sebastian Castalio, whose Latin translation of the Bible became very celebrated, was born in Dauphiny or Savoy, in 1515 and died at Basel in 1563, in extreme poverty. § 94, p- 73: Ll. 30. The whole town Volery.” Volery is, like the French wzoli?re, a collection of birds. 8 04, p- 74, 1. 17. “Some notice beforehand of the Rocks and Shoals.” Edward Panton in his Speculum Fuventutis (London 1671) recom- mends education by a “Governor” much as Locke does, e.g. on p. 110 he says “You will tell me it is a shame to have a Governor at 20 years old . . . Whence will you have a young man extract the maxims of his Government? Shall he take it from experience? He has it not. Shall he receive it from his inclination? for one good he has a thousand ill. Shall he have it from his own clear ingenuity? It is that Rock where most suffer shipwrack . . . Will you have him draw it from reading and observing of history? Thence he may possibly get his best assistance, Books, like Maps may direct him which way to sayl, but a good Governor must be his best pilot to conduct him to his port of happi- ness.” § 94, P- 74, 1. 34. “Civility.” Lady Masham tells us: “If there was anything that Mr Locke could not sort him to or be in easy conversation with, it was ill-breeding...... Civility he thought not only the great ornament of life, and that that gave lustre and gloss to all our actions, but looked upon it as a Christian “duty that deserved to be more inculcated as such than it generally was.” (F. B. il. 532, 3.) § 94, 0- 75 L. 7. “Latin and learning make all the noise.” Dr Johnson, as Boswell tells us, found fault with Locke’s book as one-sided because it attached so little importance to literature. In this Locke followed Montaigne as a spokesman of the party who were dis- contented with the system of the Renascence. Montaigne admitted that Greek or Latin were great ornaments, ‘‘but,” said he, “we buy them too dear.” If the young gentleman is observed to shew an indis- creet application to the study of books this must be discouraged, as it renders him unfit for society and turns him from ‘better occupations.” (Bk. I. ch. 235.) § 04, P- 76, L. 23. *“ Burgorsdicius’s and Scheiblers.” Coste says these were the authors of treatises on Logic and Meta- physics after the manner of the Schoolmen, and Locke names them because they were in vogue at Oxford in his day. § 98, p. 80, 1. 29. ‘‘ Magisterially dictating.” This reproof of “didactic teaching” is much less pointed than the passage in Montaigne beginning ‘“’Tis the custom of pedagogues to be eternally thundering in their pupil’s ears, as if they were pouring into a pp 80—87] Notes. 225 funnel, whilst the business of the pupil is only to repeat what the teacher has said.” (Essays, Bk. 1. ch. 25.) It seems strange that Locke says so little about teaching, but the truth is that if we under- stand by teaching communicating knowledge, Locke attached small importance to it. Knowledge he held to be zie internal perception of the mind. (Locke to Stillingfleet, F. B. ii. 432.) ‘Knowing is seeing ; and if it be so, it is madness to persuade ourselves we do so by another man’s eyes, let him' use ever so many words to tell us that what he asserts is very visible. Till we ourselves see it with our own eyes and perceive it by our own understandings, we are as much in the dark and as void of knowledge as before, let us believe any learned author as much as we will.” (C. of U. § 24.) So the tutor’s business is to train the mental vision and to cultivate the desire of seeing. ‘ We should always remember that the faculties of our souls are improved and made useful to us just after the same manner as our bodies are. Would you have a man write or paint, dance or fence well, or perform any other manual operation dexterously and with ease; let him have ever so much vigour and activity, suppleness and address naturally, yet nobody expects this from him unless he has been used to it, and has employed: time and pains in fashioning and forming his hand or outward parts to these motions. Just so it is in the mind.” (C.of U. § 6.) From this it follows that ‘the business of education is not as I think to make the young perfect in any one of the sciences, but so Zo open and dispose their minds as may best make them capable of any when they shall apply them- selves to it.” Their studies should be various, but the end proposed should be ‘“an increase of the powers and activity of the mind, not an. enlargement of its possessions.” (C. of U. § 19 ad f.) These important passages give us a much clearer notion of Locke’s scheme of zntellectual education than we can get from the Z%oughts alone. In the Zroughts physical and moral education seem to throw intellectual education into the shade. This comes from Locke’s tendency to think mainly, if not exclusively, of one power in the mind, the reasoning power, the’ candle of the Lord set up by Himself in men’s minds,” as he calls it (F. B. ii. 129); and as this faculty cannot be highly developed in child~ hood, and as the imagination, then so strong, should according to Locke be rather repressed than cherished, he in effect puts off intellectual education till the young man can be his own teacher. However, he recommends that the reasoning power should be cultivated as far as possible, and should receive the greatest care and attention. (Supra, § 122, p. 106, 1. 34.) § 107, p. 84, Ll. 33. Queis humana, &c.” “Things which human nature would grieve for were they denied to it.” | (Hor. Sat. '1. 1.) “> 8108, p. 87, L. 17. “Curiosity should be carefully cherished in e children.’ Curiosity is another name for taking interest, and the minds of the young work only when their interest is awakened. Stolidity is always marked by absence of curiosity. I have known some children of highiy developed stupidity show no curiosity when taken for the first time to Q 15 226 Notes. [pp. 87—106 the Brighton Aquarium. Captain Colomb tells us of some tribes in Africa who are neither excited nor interested when they first see a rail- way train. But children’s curiosity is hardly continuous enough to be turned to account for instruction, and their questions often show rather that the thing named has caught their eye than that they want to know about it. Professor Bain would even attribute much of such questioning to ‘‘egotism” and ‘‘the delight in giving trouble” (Education as a Science, p- 90). Locke takes up the subject again in § 118, p. 103; and there he well says that we should observe what the child’s mind aims at in the question. Surely the thing aimed at will rarely indeed be found to be ‘“giving trouble.” § 110, p. 89, L 33. “Zaking care that he loses nothing by his liberality.” Locke seems to me in error here. If the child learns to look for a return, he is no longer liberal or self-denying. If he does not learn to expect his gifts to *“ pay,” there is no object gained by always rewarding them. § 115, p. 95, 1. 5. “Nobody courts danger for danger's sake.” This is an odd instance how & priori reasoning may deceive in such: matters. That some men do court danger for danger’s sake is well established by experience. There was nothing paradoxical in Dryden’s description of Locke’s friend ¢“Achitophel :” ¢‘ Pleased with the danger, when the waves ran high He sought the storm.” The steps in Locke’s reasoning seem satisfactory. Nobody likes ‘harm. Danger is the risk of harm. If we do not like a thing we cannot like the risk of it. But there is a flaw in this reasoning some- where. Perhaps the excitement attending risk is pleasant, though the harm when it actually happens is unpleasant. § 116, p. 101, L. 7. “Exclusion of Butchers from Furies.” Having ‘‘taken counsel’s opinion,” I learn that there is no such practice now, and no indication in the legal authorities that there was such a practice in Locke’s time. The present rules as to Jurymen are governed by 6 Geo. IV. c. 50 (which consolidated previous statutes) and 25 and 26 Vict. c. 107. As we find in these two Acts no mention of butchers, there probably never was any legislation about them; and the practice of excluding them from Juries of life and death if it .ever existed was a practice merely. § 122, p. 106,1. 35. ¢¢ The right improvement and exercise of our reason being the highest perfection that a man can attain to.” Locke’s estimate of reason is seen in the following passage: ‘Try all things, hold fast that which is good,” is a divine rule coming from pp. 106—113] Notes. 227 the Father of light and truth; and it is hard to know what other way men can come at truth to lay hold of it, if they do not dig and search for it as for gold and hid treasure; but he that does so must have much earth and rubbish before he gets the pure metal; sand and pebbles and dross usually lie blended with it; but the gold is nevertheless gold, and will enrich the man that employs his pains to seek and separate it. Neither is there any danger lest he should be deceived by the mixture. Every man carries about him a touchstone, if he will make use of it, to distinguish substantial gold from superficial glitterings, truth from appearances. And indeed the use and benefit of this touchstone, which is natural reason, is spoiled and lost only by assuming prejudices, over- weening presumption, and narrowing our minds. The want of exer- cising it in the full extent of things intelligible, is that which weakens and extinguishes this noble faculty in us. (C. of U. § iii. 3.) § 130, p- 112, L. 14. “Nothing that may form children’s minds is to be overlooked.” In this large view of the educator’s task lies the chief merit of the Thoughts. The Jesuits had been the first educators after the Re- nascence who were not instructors merely. § 130, p. 113, 1. 18. ¢‘ Zops, gigs, batlledores.” A gig is here something of the top kind. The dictionaries quote Shakespeare (Z. L. L. iv. 3): ““to see great Hercules whipping a g7g.” § 1305p» 113.1. 31. The plays and diversions of children.” 1 have said in the Zntroduction that the main value of Locke’s work lies in its emphasizing and expanding Montaigne’s great lesson— Education before Instruction! The Renascence brought about the _ substitution of instruction for education, and the two have been con- fused ever since. Those who thought of nothing but zeacking children took no notice of their games. Rabelais however saw the value of games ; and Montaigne shows his singular insight when he says, “Z/ faut noter que les jeux des enfants ne sont pas jeux; et les faut juger en eux comme leurs plus sérieuses actions. We must take note that the games of children are not games in their eyes; and we must regard these as their most serious actions” (Zssaés, liv. 1. ¢. 22). Montaigne is here thinking of the way in which children throw themselves into their games ; but the fact that they do thus enter into them heart and soul gives to the games a great effect, and therefore makes them interesting to the educator. David Stow urged teachers to go to the playground to learn about children. But when the educator becomes intérested in the games he will wish to get them organized with a view to certain educational effects. This is what Locke recommends in the text (cf. § 182, p. 132 supra), and what Froebel has worked out in the Kindergarten. The germ of the Kindergarten seems to lie in these few ~ words of Locke’s. While on this subject I may mention an excellent Si called What is Play? by Dr Strachan (Edinburgh, Douglas. price 1s.). ; 15—2 228 Notes. pp. 113—120 When childhood is passed games are mostly organized by the boys themselves, and till lately the boy’s life “out of school” has not had much attention from schoolmasters. Where the day-school system prevails as in Germany the boy belongs as much to the family as to the school. This has of course some great advantages, but it has two great drawbacks : it turns schoolmasters into mere teachers, and it renders vigorous games almost impossible. In the French Jycdes the masters who are concerned with the boys’ life out of school are (with the exception of the censeur and proviseur who have general control) persons of inferior grade and influence. In English public schools the games and out-of-school life generally are organized by the boys. Partly from their being overworked, partly from the traditional system, the masters as a rule leave the boys very much to themselves. Any one who turns to the Report of the Public Schools Commission must see that in time past the boys were more successful in organizing the games than the masters in organizing the studies. There have been great improvements since that Report came out, but there is still in my opinion too much separation in thoughts and interests between masters and boys. It is a good thing for the boys to act for themselves, but they suffer, intellectually at least, by living in such an isolated boy- world. (See also Noze to p. 51, L. 1.) § 132, p. 115, L. 4, “let it [the excuse] pass for true, and be sure not to show any suspicion of it.” Dr Arnold’s practice is well known from a saying of his pupils men- tioned by Stanley: “It is a shame to tell Arnold a lie; he always believes one [z. e. takes one’s word].” The wisdom of this was some time since questioned by Mr Lake in a letter in the Spectator. If we follow Locke we are relieved from the obligation to be quite sincere in our in- tercourse with the young; but it is not easy to understand how they are to become sincere in an atmosphere of deceit. If we are, as Locke says, cameleon-like, nothing will make the young straightforward but straightforwardness in those who bring them up. Still, we are not war- ranted in showing suspicion when as far as we know we have never been deceived; and every one will do more to keep a good character than to gain one. Sincerity is I believe essential, but we ought to show and to feel a readiness to believe where belief is possible. § 138, p. 118, 1. 13. “Children let alone would be no more afraid in «the dark than in the sunshine.” Locke the great enemy of hypotheses seems here under the influence of an hypothesis, viz. that all our conceptions depend solely on what is external to us, so that before the age of reason we may be taught one thing as easily as another. Would he have asserted that you might train children never to feel safe except in the dark? As usual he seems to think little of the strength of imagination in children. § 141, p. 120, L. 14. Good Breeding.” To good breeding Locke attached the very greatest importance : and he seems from Lady Masham’s account to have been very intolerant of pp. 120—129] Notes. 229 its opposite. Having lived among distinguished people both in England and on the Continent he had had abundant opportunity of generalizing on this subject, and §§ 141—146 form an admirable essay on manners, so true to nature that it can never become obsolete. See p. 224, “Civility.” § 147, p. 128, 1. 25. ““Learning......I think the least par a As I have already said (/ntroduction and notes to p. 75, 1. 7 and p. 113, L. 31) I consider this sentence gives us the gist of Locke’s pedagogy. It was the great merit of Montaigne and Locke that their minds were not engrossed like those of the Renascence scholars by ‘‘learning,” and they therefore thought and led others to think of the learner. As Michelet has put it, in their system the main thing was ““non Dobjet, le savoir ; mais le sujet, c'est homme.” (Nos Fils, p. 170.) Hettner in confirmation of this has called attention to Locke’s letter to Lord Peterborough on the choice of a tutor. This letter contains nothing but what we find in the Z%ougkts ; but it is interesting, as it shows us how settled Locke’s convictions were : “IT must beg leave to own that I differ a little from your Lordship in what you propose ; your Lordship would have a thorough scholar, and I think it not much matter whether he be any great scholar or no; if he but understand Latin well, and have a general scheme of the sciences, I think that enough: but I would have him well-bred, well- tempered ; a man that having been conversant with the world and amongst men, would have great application in observing the humour and genius of my Lord your son; and omit nothing that might help to form his mind, and dispose him to virtue, knowledge, and industry. This I look upon as the great business of a tutor; this is putting life into his pupil, which when he has got, masters of all kinds are easily to be had ; for when a young gentleman has got a relish of knowledge, the love and credit of doing well spurs him on; he will with or without teachers, make great advances in whatever he has a mind to. Mr Newton learned his mathematics only of himself; and another friend of mine, Greek (wherein he is very well skilled) without a master ; though both these studies seem more to require the help of a tutor than almost any other.” In a letter to the same correspondent on the same subject, 1697, he says: * When a man has got an entrance into any of the sciences, it will be time then to depend on himself, and rely upon his own under- standing, and exercise his own faculties, which is the only way to im- provement and mastery.” See ofz to *‘Magisterially dictating,” p. 224. § 147, p. 120, L. 20. “Latin and Logick.” These were the only studies of universal obligation, and both had been established in the Middle Ages. The old Z¥7zium which all the “educated” passed through consisted of Grammar, Logic and Rhetoric. The first was supposed to be ‘‘absolved ” at school, the other two at the University. Logic still lingers at Oxford, though it has vanished from Cambridge. We find Locke very strongly against the disputations common in his time; but he seems to think some knowledge of logic should precede the study of mathematics. (See Zntroduction, p. xxxi.) 230 Notes. [pp. 120—133 Logic however was then connected with ‘ disputations” or ‘‘oppo- sitions,” and of these Locke disapproved very strongly. ¢ Disputations in logic and other philosophy belong rather to the University,” says Brinsly, and the schools should respect the University’s privilege; yet he tells of schools ‘“ where the scholars have been able to dispute ex tempore of any ordinary moral question which you should propound unto them.” (Zudus Literarius Chap. xvii. 206.) For the curriculum of the first half of the 17th century see two valuable articles by Professor T. S. Baynes (‘‘ What Shakespeare learnt at School”) in Fraser's Magazine for November and December, 1879: § 150, p. 131, L. 4. ““Playthings......1o teack children to read.” Games have been used for instruction from time immemorial. Plato praises the Egyptian practice of teaching arithmetic in games (Laws, vii. 819, quoted by A. S. Wilkins, National Education in Greece). In Rabelais too cards are brought in after dinner to learn ‘“‘a thousand pretty tricks all grounded on arithmetic.” Perhaps such games as Locke suggests for reading and spelling would have become more common if dice had generally kept good company. § 156, p. 133, L. 14. “Some easy pleasant book suited to kis capacity should be put into his hands.” In most schools, schools for the poor especially, reading is still treated too much as a mechanical art, and is usually taken as sy- nonymous with reading aloud. Schoolmasters and school-managers have till quite lately neglected the obvious truth, that if the book is pleasant the entertainment they find in it will draw the children on. Locke’s words remain only too true: * These baits seem wholly neg- lected in the ordinary method; and ’tis usually long before learners find any use or pleasure in reading, which may tempt them to it.” Since the Inspectors have been empowered to require ‘‘intelligent” reading in England as well as Scotland there has been some improvement; but the supply of “pleasant books” is still far too small, and there is seldom a scholars’ lending library. We have not yet found (and probably never shall find) a better reading-book for children than the one Locke suggests. Why should not Asop be made a permanent classic in our elementary schools as Virgil is in our higher schools? § 156, p- 133, 1. 24. “Pictures.” _ In the 17th century although the mechanical art of producing picture-books was in its infancy, the value of such books for instruc- tion was better understood than it is perhaps now. The most celebrated i ever published was the Oréss Pictus of Comenius first edition, 1657). Considering the wonderful amount of skill and energy shown in illustrating children’s periodicals it is strange that our artists now-a-days rarely meddle with school-books. Some good pic- ture-rolls have lately been published by Messrs Partridge and by the Religious Tract Society. On the Continent pictures are coming into pp: 133—137] Notes. 231 use in all school-rocms. See e.g. the Kunst-historische Bilderbogen published by Hunderstund, Leipzig, and for children Pfeiffer’s Bilder Jr Anschauungs-unterricht: Perthes, Gotha. § 160, p. 136, 1. 8. “The first thing should be taught him is to hold his pen right.’ It would be very interesting to trace the changes that have taken place in handwriting and in the methods of teaching it. There seems nothing liable to such complete revolutions: witness the difference between a ladylike hand of the present day and that written by our mothers and grandmothers. A writer in the Spectator (Feb. 7, 1880) recommends that the pupils be allowed to hold their pen as they like, and this is often the practice though not the theory of masters. For the approved method in the 17th century see Brinsly’s Ludus Literarius, chap. iv. He directs that each boy have pen, ink, paper, ruler, plummet, ruling-pen, pen-knife &c., also blotting-book. Each must make his own pen, as no one can attain to write fair without that skill. ¢ Next unto this, cause your scholler to hold his pen right, as neere unto the nebbe as he can, his thumbe and two fore-fingers, almost closed to- gether, round about the neb, like unto a Cats foote, as some of the Scriveners doe terme it. Then let him learne to carry his pen as lightly as he can, to glide or swimme upon the paper.” (Zudus Lit., chap. iv. p- 30.) His plan of making the pupil go over writing with a dry pen 1s something like Locke’s. § 160, p. 136, Ll. 21. “The way to teach him to write.” The plan here recommended had been tried by Locke with the children of the Quaker merchant Furly at Rotterdam. ~ See Fox Bourne’s Leaf ZL. ils D. 74. § 161, p. 136, l. 38. ¢‘ Drawing.” Locke in this part of his work thinks too exclusively of * the useful ” in the narrowest sense of the word. Here he neglects the discipline of the sight, which is gained in drawing, a very real advantage I be- lieve, though it has lately been disputed by Professor Bain, § 161, p. 137, l. 19. “Vil invita Minerva.” “Do nothing without the consent of Minerva,” 7.e. against the natural bent, against the grain. § 161, p. 137, L. 20. ¢¢ Shorthand.” This was not mentioned in first edition, but was added afterwards at the suggestion of W. Molyneux. Locke writes to Molyneux (23 Aug. 1693), “I am of your mind as to Short-hand: I myself learned 232 Notes. [pp. 137—141 it since I was a man, but have forgot to put it in when I writ; as I have, I doubt not, overseen a thousand other things which might have been said on this subject. But it was only at first a short scheme for a friend, and is published to excite others to treat it more fully.” I may mention that Dr Wormell, Head-master of the great School in Cowper Street, London, tells me that having introduced the teaching of short- hand simply as an art of use to people in business, he has found that it has great educational value in sharpening boys’ wits, and gives a capital training in analysing sounds. It has too the great recommendation of being popular with boys. The system used is Pitman’s. § 162, p. 138, 1. 3. “Zhe Latin tongue would easily be taught the same way [i.e. by talking].” This experiment was tried with Montaigne. Locke also engaged a lady who could talk “Latin and Greek” to teach the child “Mr Anthony,” afterwards the third Lord Shaftesbury. See /z- troduction. § 166, p. 140, 1. 8. ¢“ Knowledge of things that fall under the senses.” This and § 169, p. 149, are the only passages I have observed in which Locke even hints at what the Germans call Aznschauungs-unter- 7icht, i.e. instruction through the senses. We should have expected his philosophical views to have interested him in this demand of “the Innovators.” But he seems to care little about ¢‘ realism or the study of things; and here he does not get beyond verbal realism.” I infer that he had not read Comenius, and perhaps had not heard of Ratichius. § 167, p. 141, L. 13. “Sancti Minerva.” The Spaniard Francis Sanctius in the 16th century wrote a learned work called Minerva, sen de causis lingue Latine Commentarius. This is an elaborate treatise in Latin on the grammar of the Latin language; and with the notes of Scoppius and Perizonius it makes two formidable- looking volumes. If the study of Latin grammar were put off till the young gentleman were able (and willing) to study Sanctius, Scoppius and Perizonius, this looks a little like fixing it for the Greek Kalends. But Locke would avoid a common error in teachers of languages, of the classical languages especially, who try to make boys ‘‘learn” gram- matical niceties entirely beyond their comprehension. In the struggle, as Professor Seeley has well said, the children do not become gram- marians but the grammar becomes childish. Many of us spent much time and effort as boys in learning and applying such ‘‘rules” as that ‘‘when two substantives of different meaning come together the latter is put in the Genitive case.” The absurdities of the old grammar were exposed by a contemporary of Locke’s, Richard Johnson, sometime Master of the King’s School, Canterbury, whose Grammatical Com- mentartes appeared in 1706. The Public School Primer is no doubt far less childish than the book it superseded. Whether children are made grammarians by it is another question. pp. 149—153] Notes. 233 § 169, p. 149, Ll. 17. ““ Join as much other real knowledge with it as you can.” Here Locke seems to join ‘the Innovators,” or at least to go a little way with them in their demand, ‘¢ Z%ings, not words!” The word ‘‘real” too is used in their sense connecting it with res (the word Reales according to Meyer’s Conversations Lexicon was first used in 1614 by Taubmann). But to this important field for instruction he only gives a dozen lines. § 172, p- 181, L. 22. “70 speak ex tempore.” In a previous note (p. 230 ad in.) I quoted a passage from Brinsly which shows ex fempore speaking was practised in the higher classes of schools in the first half of the 17th century. But since ¢ disputations” died out there has been no use of the living voice except in construing or saying by heart. In German schools the practice is common of the pupils giving in their own words a continuous narrative of what they have been studying. This zéwa voce practice is a very good training in the use of the mother tongue. See § 189, p. 163, 1. 38. § 174, P- 152, L 28, *“ Poetry and gaming......usually go together.” This is a most astounding assertion from one of Milton’s con- temporaries ; but we must remember that Milton ‘dwelt apart” from all the so-called poets of his age, and that the best poetry then popular was Waller's and Dryden’s. Still it seems harsh to associate such poetry as theirs with gaming ; and we cannot help connecting this out- burst against the Muse with Locke’s own unsuccessful addresses to her. It is only the writing of poetry that he would repress so sternly. The reading of ** poetical writings for diversion and delight ” he recommends to “a young gentleman.” (See Appendix A.) § 175, p. 153, Ll. 10, “2heir being forced to learn by heart great parcels of the authors.” Here Locke follows Montaigne in his celebrated ‘‘ Savoir par cour west pas savoir. To know by heart is not to 4nzow.” Knowing is according to these writers the perception of the mind. This perception may be caused by a form of words, but when obtained it must be quite independent of any words. Knowing by heart then is distinct from knowing. It may indeed coexist with knowledge, but it is a different thing. But this definition of knowledge—the perception of the mind— limits it to intellectual ideas; and this limitation is not usually ad- mitted. Such ideas may be associated with beautiful or vigorous words, and then the words themselves may fitly become a subject of know- ledge. Unfortunately the knowledge of a form of words is more easily acquired and much more easily tested than any other kind of know- ledge ; and it has therefore been made far too much of in instruction. This has led in some cases to a violent reaction, and the practice of ‘““memorizing ” has been entirely given up. But it is a great gain, as Locke himself admits, to have in our minds beautiful forms of words which recall beautiful thoughts. The main thing is to require the 234 Notes. [p- 153 young to learn only what is worth remembering, and then to take care that this is remembered and recalled from time to time till it becomes a settled possession of the mind. ‘We learn by heart passages from the poets when we are boys,” says Aeschines, “in order that we may have the benefit of them when we are men” (Aeschin. against Ktes. § 135, quoted by J. H. Krause, Erzichung bet den Griechen, p. 9o). There are some excellent remarks on learning by heart, and against learning ‘‘great parcels of the authors,” in a work certainly known to Locke, as he translated part of it into English, the Port-Royalist Nicole’s Pensées. The chapter I refer to is de J Education dun prince. The advantages of learning poetry by heart in our youth have been dwelt ypon by Hallam in a passage worth quoting. Speaking of Milton, he says: ‘“ Then the remembrance of early reading came over his dark and lonely path like the moon emerging from the clouds. Then it was that the Muse was truly his; not only as she poured her creative inspiration into his mind, but as the daughter of Memory coming with fragments of ancient melodies, the voice of Euripides, and Homer and Tasso; sounds that he had loved in youth and treasured up for the solace of his age. They who though not enduring the calamity of Milton have known what it is when afar from books, in solitude or in travelling, or in the intervals of worldly care, to feed on poetical recol- lections, to murmur over the beautiful lines whose cadence has long delighted their ear; to recall the sentiments and images which retain by association the charm that early years once gave them—they will feel the inestimable value of committing to the memory in the prime of its power what it will easily receive and indelibly retain. I know not indeed whether an education that deals much with poetry such as is still usual in England has any more solid argument among many in its favour than that it lays the foundation of intellectual pleasure at the other extreme of life.” § 176, p. 153, 1. 37. “70 exercise and improve their memories.” Mr Henry Latham in his book On the Action of Examinations has distinguished between different kinds of memory, the “carrying” memory, the “analytical” memory and the ““assimilative” memory. He points out that the memory grows to the circumstances in which she finds herself. If we would train the memory then we must train it in the way in which it is required to work. A barrister would be no match for an actor in committing to memory a particular form of words, but then the actor would be no match for the barrister in remembering the main points of a case. The school-boy memory grows to the circumstances in which it finds itself, and becomes very expert at ‘‘carrying;” but this skill though useful for examinations may easily be acquired at the expense of more valuable power. Those who know how to make use of ‘the Three A’s,” as they have been called, Attention, Arrangement and Association, will perhaps come to a different conclusion from Locke, who thinks the memory not capa- ble of much help and amendment by any exercise or endeavour of ours. It is remarkable that Locke who has written of the Associa- tion of Ideas does not name here this strong combination” which pp. 153—164] Notes. 235 ‘‘the mind makes in itself either voluntarily or by chance.” (Of Human Understanding, Bk. ii. Ch. 33, § 6. See too what he says of memory, same bk. ch. 10). § 176, pv 154, 1. 6. *“ An impression made on beeswax or lead will not last so long as on brass or steel.” In speaking of the mind we are compelled to use similes and meta- phors drawn from the material world; but unless we are on the look-out these are sure to lead us into great confusion and error. Dr Johnson maintained that the mind could retain one thing as well as another: to deny it would be the same as saying that the hand could hold silver money but not copper. It might be retorted that to affirm it is like saying that the hand cam hold a bit of ice as long as a bit of wood. Locke is more careful, but Hallam finds great fault with him for his use of analogies. In the following the figure is at least ef- fective : ‘¢ There seems to be a constant decay of all our ideas, even those which are struck deepest and in minds the most retentive, so that if they be not sometimes renewed by repeated exercise of the senses, or reflection in those kind of objects which at first occasioned them, the print wears out and at last there is nothing to be seen. Thus the ideas as well as the children of our youth often die before us; and our minds represent to us those tombs to which we are approaching, where though the brass and marble remain the inscriptions are effaced by time, and the imagery moulders away.” (Of A. U. Chap. on Retention). § 178, p. 157, L. 1. “7 now live in the house with a child.” Frank Masham. See /ntroduction p. xxxix. § 183, p. 160, 1. 7. ¢ Helvicus.” Christopher Helvicus or Helwig, a celebrated scholar in his day, was born near Frankfurt, 1581, and died at the age of 35 (1617). He studied at Marburg, and took his Bachelor’s degree at 14 years old, and at 15 was celebrated for his Greek verses. He was afterwards professor at Giessen. His name occurs in the history of education, as he was one of the professors appointed to examine the system of Ratichius. His daughter married the amusing writer on education, J. B. Schuppius. § 188, p. 162, . 1. Rhetorick and logick......usually follow immediately after Grammar.” The three formed the Zi/vium. See note on p. 229 ad fin. § 189, p. 164, L. 33. Poitures.” I do not know how the final s crept in here. The author referred to is Vincent Voiture (1598—1648), whose letters from Spain, &c. to the habitués of the Hotel de Rambouillet were published and became very celebrated. Pope was fond of them. ‘They give some idea,” says Voltaire, ‘‘of the superficial graces of that epistolatory style which is by no means the best, because it aims at nothing higher than pleasantry and amusement,” 236 Notes. [pp. 170—187 $103, p. 170, L. 5. “Mr Boyle's” Robert Boyle had once an immense reputation. In Chalmers’s Biographical Dictionary he is called ‘¢the most illustrious philosopher of modern times.” This is reduced in the Encyclopedia Britannica to “one of the greatest and best of modern philosophers;” and still further abatement may be possible. But in the 17th century he was thought a far greater man than Locke, an estimate partly due to the circumstance that the father of the one was an earl, and of the other a country attorney. Boyle was five or six years older than Locke, having been born in 162%. He died in 1691. Boyle formed at Oxford a school of Experimental Natural Science, and was the leader in apply- ing the principles of Bacon to the discovery of Nature’s laws. Locke was among the number of his friends and correspondents. § 198, p. 175, L. 25. ‘Riding the great horse.” Coste translates simply monter & cheval. But why *‘ great horse” 2? I have heard it suggested that ‘the great horse” was the war horse as opposed to the palfrey used for travelling: and this I believe is the true explanation. Lord Herbert of Cherbury says he had excellent masters, English, French, and Italian in “riding the great horse and fencing,” and he gives elaborate directions * how to make a horse fit for wars.” It will be remembered that Marmion has his war-horse led while he him- self rides a palfrey. § 200, p. 177, . 8. ““ Nullum numen, &e. ¢‘No deity is absent where there is Prudence.” A line in Juvenal. § 201, p. 177, 1. 28. “A manual trade.” Locke seldom quotes authorities. He might here have referred to Rabelais and Montaigne. § 216, p. 187, 1. 4. *“ He must be back again by one and twenty to marry.” Locke seems from this passage to have been dissatisfied with the early marriage of the second Lord Shaftesbury, a marriage which he’ himself was concerned in. See /ntroduction, p. xxv. § 217, p- 187, L. 34. ¢¢ White paper, or wax 20 be moulded and Jashioned as one pleases.” This conception which explains many of Locke’s peculiar suggestions differs from the theory that children have evil propensities, and that education isin a great measure 7esérainz. It differs no less from Froebel’s theory that everything is contained in the child as the oak lies in the acorn. INDEX AccounTs, keeping, 182, 183 Boe guided by foresight 2nd desire, Ansty of children, 4, 55 Aeschines on learning poetry, 23. Su 133; only book fit for Sate; At on the result of care, 40; de- fined, 41, l. 22; worse than rough na- ture, 42 Amusements, 87 Animals, training of, begun early, 22 Aptitude, seasons of, 53 Aptitudes to be studied, 40 Arithmetic, 157 Arnold, Dr, on believing boys, 228 Arnstaedt’ s succession, Rabelais &c., xlix Asking, against children’s, 8s Association of ideas, 235 Astronomy, 158 Attention, Hfeulty of, 142 Auwutodidacticus, 75 Bain, A., on children’s curiosity, 226 Banks, Locke's pupil, xxx Bashfulness better than vice, 47 Baths, 5, 207, 208 Baynes, Prof. T. S., 230 Beds, hard, 16, 214 eer, 213 Benbow, 221 Bible, reading and lopring from, 134; Latin, 156; study of, 1 Books, amusing, 133; not 2. main study, B, 202 Bowels, action of, 17 Boyle, Robt., 170, 1. 5, 236 Boys not idle, 222 Breeding, 229 Brinsly on ee outations) 230; on writing, 231 Burgursdicius, 76, 1. 23 Butchers on juries, 101, 1. 7, 226 Caesar, 11, L. 15 Castalio, 68, 1. 5, 224 Cato the Censor, example of, 45, 219 Ceremony, excess of, 124 Chameinany take tincture from things Canis study of, 82, 119 Chesterfield, Lord, on public schools, 220 Chiding wrong, 56 Childish faults, E44 Childishness, 3 Children Fd 2 be childish, 37, I. 25; less idle than men, 132; like white paper, 187 Chillingworth for reasoning, 162, A2. B, 192 Chronology, 159 Civility, mutual, of children, 88, 224 Cleve, journey to, xxiii Cloacina, 215 Clothes must be loose, 8 Clothing not too warm, 3 Colomb, Capt., quoted, 226 Comenius, O7bis Pictus, 230 Commendation, power of, 104 Companions, influence of, 128 Company all-important, 4s, l. 31 Corporal punishments, 30, 36; when to be used, 57; how to be applied, 62; not needed for learning, 64 Corruption of the time, 49, l. 30 Coste quotes Suetonius, 219 Costiveness, 214 Courage, 94; how trained, 100 Cowardice comes from frights, 96 Cruelty, 23, 101; a habit, 102 Crying, 91—93 Cudworth, 169, 1. 3; Curiosity to be ae; 87, 103, 225 Curriculum of 17th century, 230 Custom. See Habit Dancing should be taught early, 42, . 39, 174 Danger for its own sake, 226 Dark, children need not fear, 118 Day schools, weak point of, 228 Deceit soon perceived by children, 104, . 34 Descartes, 169 Dibstones, 132 Didactic teaching, against, 80, L. 27 iet, 9 Diodorus Siculus, 45 Disputations, agains, 81, 162, 163; judg- ment spoilt by, 8 Dissoluteness raling, 50 238 Index. Domineering, children fond of, 83 Don Quixote, 43. B, 192 Dramatic writings, reading of, 42. B, 192 Drawing, 136, 231 Drink, 12, 13 Drinking cold drink, 209 Dryden on Achitophel, 226 Dutch, 4 Education, influence of, 204; not giving knowledge, 225 Educator’s task, Locke’s view of, 227 Elementary schools, reading in, 230 English morals in Locke’s time, 221 Ethics, 160 Eutropius, 145 Example, force of, 44 Examples, learning from, 61 Excuses, 114 Farnaby’s Rketorick, 165 Father and son, 28, 78—8o Father, Locke's, 217 Fear, origin of, 97 Feet, wet, 216 Feminine influence, Locke's want of, 208 Fencing, 175, 176 Floyer, Sir John, 208 Foolhardiness, 94 French language, 137, 138 Froebel and Locke, 236 Fruit, 13, 14, 214 Furly, Arent, of Rotterdam, 231 Games for reading, 131; in public schools, 221; value and use of, 227 Games, educational use of, 113 Gaming for want of employment, 180 Gardening, 178—9 Gentleman's calling, 42. B, 192 Geography, 156 Geometry, 158 Germany, 5 Gigs, 113, l. 18, 227 Girls’ physical education, 209 Globes, use of, 157, 159 Goblins, 117, 167 God, first teaching about, 116 Goldsmith on hardening, 207 Good breeding, 69, 120 ff. See Civility Governor. See Tutor Gracefulness, wherein it consists, 41 Grammar, language learning without, 145; by whom needed, 146 Greek to be omitted, 170 Grotius, 161 “Grundyism”, 218 Habit, 21 ; importance of, liv; v. Reason, or; self-denial by, 7, 25 Habits woven into the principles, &c., 28 Hallam on Locke, 204; for learning poetry, 234 Hardening the body, 2, 205--7 Hardiness from voluntary pain, 98 Hare, 20 hurry with terror, 44, 1. 12 Harshness prevents attention, 143 Hart, Diet of the Diseased, 213 note Health, care of, 45. B, 197 Heaven our chief aim, 43. B, 196 Helvicus, 160, 1. 7, 235 Hettner quoted, 229 History, 160; right kind of, 4p. B, 203 ; wrong kind of, 4%. B, 195 Hopkins and Sternhold, 129, L. 7 Horace, 5, L. 32; quoted, 84, 225 Hornbook, 134 Ileus, 215 Ill breeding, 121 Importunity, do nct reward, 26 Inclination palate of mind, 42. B, 198 Incorrigible, the, 65 Instructions for the conduct, &c., Ap. B, 191 Intellectual education put off, 229 Intemperance, 24 Interrupting, rudeness of, 126 Japaner, 103 : Jesuits flogged per alium, 223; not mere instructors, 227 Jews’ use of cold water, 5 BaP. 04 Johnson, Dr, on Locke, 224; on Memory, 235 Johnson, Richard, Grammatical Com- mentaries, 232 Judgment spoilt by disputing, 8x Justice, go Justin, 145 Kellner on flogging per alium, 223 Knowledge grateful as light, 104, I. 3 object of, Ap. B, 192; of self, 42. B, 202; perception of mind, 225 Known to unknown, 174 Krause, J. H., 234 La Bruygre quoted, 171 Lake, C. H., on believing boys, 228 Language, over-cultivation of, Ap. 5, 194 Latham, Rev. H., on memory, 235 Latin necessary, 138, 155 Law, gentleman’s study of, 26x Learning comes last, 128 Leclerc, friendship with, xxxv Letters, writing of, 164 Liberality encouraged, 893 paying, 226 Liberty, children delight in, 52 Lilly’s grammar always taught, 139 Listlessness, 108 Literature, Locke depreciates, 224 Locke’s life. See Table of Contents Logic, 129, 162, 230 Lying, 24, 114 Lyttelton, Hon. Edw., on Athletes in public schools, 22x Index. i Malta, 3 Manners, 42; come by imitation, 44; re- sult of respect and good will, 43 Manual arts, 178 Marrying too early, 187 Masham, Frank, “hardened,” 208 Masham, Lady, quoted, 224 Maxima debetur, &c., 51 Meals, 10, 11, 212 Meat for children, 210 Medicine, 2, 19, 216; Locke's study of, 205 Memorizing, 234 Memory, 153 ff. ; decay of our ideas, 235; ‘“the three A’s,” 234 Metaphors, danger of, 235 Metaphysics, 1 Michelet, Le sujet c’est Ihomme, 229 Mind must get mastery over self, 54; physiognomy of, 82 Minds differ like bodies, 82 Mischief doing not natural, rox Molyneux, W., correspondence with, xxxix Montaigne, 68; learnt Latin in talking, 232; and Locke, points of agreement lix; on didactic teaching, 224; on har- dening, 209; on Latin and Greek, 224; on lessons in cruelty, 216; on tutor, 223; on waking, 214; philosophy for child, 223 ; savoir par caeur, 233 ; when born, 223; Montaigne’s Theory, 233 Moral Philosophy, our proper study, 42. B, 201 Mother tongue, 147, 162, 163, 166; neglect of, 163 : Mulcaster, Richd., for physical ed., lii Music, 174 Narrating, practising, 163 Natural philosophy can neverbeascience, 166; no certainty in, 169 Natural science we can know little of, 42. , 201 Nature surpasses our faculties, 166 Nature to be made the best of, 219 Nature to be studied, 40 Nature’s secrets, 4. B, 201 Newman, J. H., charge against Locke, lvi Newton, 170; and Locke, xliv Nicole's Pensées, 234 Nil invita Minerva, 137, 231 Nullum numen abest, &c., 177, 236 Obstinacy, rod for, 56, 57 “Of Study,” 4p. B, 192 ff. Openmindedness, 42. B, 198 Opiniatry, 81 Opinions unimportant, 44. B, 194 Orbis Pictus, 231 Pain, discipline by voluntary, Panton, E., Speculum Fuventutis, 224 Parent and child, 27 Parents’ company, importance of, 45 Parnassus has no gold mines, 152 Party opinions, 44. B, 199 239 Payer Dr J. F., Preface; Notes by, 2 4 ff. Perizonius, 233 Peterborough, Locke’s letter to Lord, 229 Philosophy for children, 223 Physic not be used, 2, 19, 20, 216; for prevention, 215 , Physical education, summary of, 20 Physics, 170 Physiognomy of mind, 82 Picture books, 133 Picture rolls, 231 Pictures for teaching, 230 Pitman’s shorthand, 232 Play and work convertible, 55 Playthings, 112, 113; for teaching, 230 Plutarch quoted, 45 note Poetry goes with gaming, 152. 233; learning by heart, 234; reading for diversion, 4p. B, 192 Poland, 5 Practice, secret of teaching, 39 Praise and blame, 34, 37 Primer, 134 Psychrolusia, 208 Public opinion in schools, 223 Public schools, boys left alone, 228; iso- lated, 221; manners in, 220; morals in, 220 Puffendorf, 161 Punishments, severe, must be avoided, 29, 30, 36 ues humana, &c., Hor., 225 uestions, children’s, 105 Rabelais, on realism, lvii Rascality, 114 Reading, 129 ff.; collects rough material, Ap. B, 202; pleasant books for, 230 Real knowledge, 233 Realism, 232 Reason 7. custom, 188 Reason, the candle of the Lord, 225; touchstone for truth, 227 Reasoning, children’s, 106; and disputa- tions, 162 ; with children, 60, 222 Recreation necessary, 87 Religion and paupers, 4%. 4, 190 Reputation, 34, 36, 104; effect of, 218 Requisites, Locke's four, 115 ewards and punishments necessary, 33, 217; injudicious, 32 Reynard the Fox, 133 Rhetoric, 162, 163 Riding the great horse, 175, 236 od, 30; when to be used, 222 Rome, 3 Rudeness in high life, 127 Rules, avoid many, 38, 39 St Winifred’s Well, 6, 208 Sanctius, F., 141, 232 Sauntering, 107 Scheibler, 76 240 Index. Sdunlboss, Locke’s bad character of, Si small power of, 48 Schools, good side of, 46; mischief from, 46 ; see Public, &c. Schuppius, 235 Scoppius, 232 Scotch-hoppers, 111 Scotland, 6 Scriptures, study of, 43. B, 194 Sea, English defeated at, 221 Seasons of aptitude, 53 Seeley, Diok J. R., on childish gram- mar, 23 Self- a: by early practice, 25; taught early, 21; true principle of virtue, 29 Self-teaching, 75 Seneca, 3, 10, 76 ] “Sense, give me a little,” 10, 150 Servants, dangers from, 45; difficulties from, 35; treatment of, 102, 103 Severity, harm from, 31 Short, Dr R., 213, zote Shorthand, 137, 231 Shufflings of outward condition, 103 Sincerity with young, 2 Sees 15, 214; is ad of, Ap. B, Sool distinctions, 103 Solon, 21 “Some thoughts concerning reading,” Ap B, 191 Sparta, gg Speaking, art of, 45. B, 192 Speaking ex Zempore, 151, 233 Spectres, 167 Spirits, 168; no teaching about, 116 Spirits, Z.e. ‘nerve-force, 2r 5 Sternhold and Hopkins, 129 Strachan, Dr, Wat is Play? 227 Strauchius, 159 Studies, map of, 45. B, 202 Study, rules for, Ap. B, 192 ff. Suetonius quoted, 47, #ote Sugar for children, 211 Surfeit-water, 215 Sweet meats, 14 Sydenham, Locke’s intercourse with, xxvii Talebearing, 8g Tasks of play, 110 Thackeray quoted, 220 Themes, no Latin, 1:0, 151 Things, teaching about, 140 Tight lacing, 210 Time, economy of, 45. B, 192 Tole, Zo entice, 98, 1. 2 Trade to be learnt, 177, 236 Travel, right time = x Trivium, 162, 230, 2 Truth accepted ra displeasing, 42. B, 3 19 : Tutor, character of, 66, 156; choice of, 68; his true function, 75; importance of, 67; must be man of world, 77; must be respected, 66; must give know- ledge of world, 74 Tutor’s chief business to form mind, 155 Vane, Sir W., xxiii Vanity, 23 Vennor, Dr R., 213, note Verses, against Latin, 152 Vice, spreading, 49 Virtue, first, 115, 116; the hard and valuable part in education, 50 Voiture, 164, 235 Volery, 73, 225 Waller, a phrase from, 205 Wants of fancy, 84; of nature, 84 Willis, Dr, 209 ine, 214 Wisdom 2. cunning, 119 s Words and things, 149, gees Words, signs of things, 42. B, 193; not needed for thought, 45. B, 200 Work less liked than play, 221 Working in principles, 5 4 ‘Working schools, 4s. 4 Wormell, Dr, on Sal, 232 Worthington’s Catechism, 135 Wrestling, 176 Writing, 136, 231 CAMBRIDGE: PRINTED BY C. J. CLAY, M.A. AND SONS, AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS. CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS. 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