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 THE END AND OBJECT OF EDUCATION. 
 
 
 A LECTURE, 
 
 DBLIVEKED BEFOEE THE MEMBERS Of THE QCEBEO 
 
 YOUNG MEN'S 
 
 Irotestant ^kcatbnal Mm% 
 
 ON 12th JANUABY, 1857, 
 
 y 
 
 BY JASPER H. NICOLLS, D. D. 
 
 principal o£ aSissliops CalUse, ILiiinoiijiUc. 
 
 MONTREAL, 
 
 HILL & MABTIN ; TOEONtO, H. BOWSBLL ; BHEEBEOOKB, A. WHITCHBE. 
 
 JOHIT lOVBLL, PBINTHB. ST. WICHOLAS BTBBBI, 
 1851. 
 
 =^ 
 
THE END AND OBJECT OF EDUCATION. 
 
 A LECTURE, 
 
 DELIVERED BEFORE THE MEMBERS OF THE QUEBEC 
 
 YOUNG MEN'S 
 
 rotestant ^kcational Inion, 
 
 ON 12th JANUARY, 185(?, 
 
 BY JASPER n. NICOLLS, D. D., 
 
 MONTREAL, 
 
 HILL & MAETIN ; TOBONTO, H. ROWSBLL J SHEBBEOOKE, A. WHITCHBR. 
 
 JOHN lOVBLI, PEINTEB, ST. NICHOLAS STEEET. 
 1857. 
 
A smaller number of copies of tliis Lecture having been printed 
 than was intended, it is now re-published at the suggestion of 
 several parties who desire to see it more generally circulated. 
 
 It was written originally for, and read, two years ago, before 
 the Library Association and Mechanics' Institute in Shcrbrooke. 
 
 Bishop's College, 23rd February, 1857. 
 
A LECTURE. 
 
 There is no subj^ict, perhaps, on which more has been pRid or 
 
 written there is no subject on which more renuiiiia, or is likely, 
 
 to be said or \vviltfii, tlian that of e»i:c.vtion. In undertaking, 
 tlierefore, to read you u paper on this subject this evening, I can- 
 not but be aware tliat I am approacliino; a task of soiiio difliculty,' 
 and one whicii ri-ipiires some nicety in handling. There is a 
 daufi-er of beinix very dull and uninteresting, which he must look 
 clearly and resolutely in the face, Avho ventures on such well trod- 
 den (cround. And on an occasion like this, the audience naturally 
 cnou^T-h look for something new ; and, if the topic be a little more 
 cxcithig than usual, it has the better chance of success with them. 
 
 Mv own views on the iinp(»rtant subject of education have not 
 much of this novelty to make them attractive, unless indeed their 
 antitiuatedness be a novelty ; like an old grandsire's coat laid by 
 for many years, on the chance of fashion once more returning toi 
 the admired pattern of days long since gone by.— "There is a 
 
 title" it has been well said — "in the affairs of men." — There is 
 
 no exception to the principle — fashion rules more or less, and ever 
 has ruled, in every department of life ; the admiration of one aga 
 is an object of ridicule in the next; and what yesterday was 
 counted folly to-day is wisdom. The greatest wonder, the most 
 admired invention, the most useful and practical discovery, has but 
 its own short day : in all likelihood, the greater the wonder, the 
 more absorbing the excitement it produces, the surer its passing 
 to neglect. Education fares no better than 'its neighbours in this 
 respect. It has its phases and petted aspects from time to time, 
 but they pass away ; and subjects, which to-day are made the moi-t 
 of, are to-morrow slighted, if not absolutely scouted. In order to 
 know this fully, it is only necessary to be placed for a short time 
 in the position of a public teacher, and take a few not(;s of the 
 comments which are made and the wishes which are expressed by 
 
tl)08e ^vllO arc pkp'nijx f>"t tlicir sons for cdnoation. One wmita 
 Ilia son tittea for life by the sliorti^t cut that can be aMoptcl. 
 "Give hiui (savs the i)arent,) jvist v.liat will i^vt liim into this or 
 tlwit profession." Another l.e-s you ^vill not stuff IiIh hoy with 
 Latin and Greek nonsense—" the day for that sort of thin^x ha.* 
 mnie by." A third wisheH his son to attain a respt.'ctable position 
 in life, yet is perfectly contented if you can make him write a j^'ood 
 hand, 'and rocbm up a loni,' column of lijjturcs with ease an.l cor- 
 rectness. A fourth does not care much what yon do with the 
 lad, if you keep him for a certain time, beyond the possibility of his 
 annoying his fond parent, and turn him out, when he is wanted, 
 with a pair of good broad shoulders and some lit'Je approach to 
 (rood manners and sense. A tilth thinks mathenuitical instruction 
 the one thing to turn to account in life— yet still his boy is thought 
 to be a genius, and such an one as he is allowed to be, you 
 ought certaiidy to turn out a polished scholar, forsooth, "in 
 twenty-four lessons" ! In si.ort, the teacher is like the old 
 man in the fable, lie may ride his ass himself, and make his boy 
 walk, or he may walk himself and let the boy ride, or he and the 
 boy may ride together, or cai-ry the ass together; but, for all that, 
 he cannot please every body. Tlie current of the " popularis 
 aura"— the set of the wind of fashion, is now from the north, now 
 fiom the south, presently from the cast, and then from tlie west— 
 with as many intermediate shades of individual fancy as there are 
 intermediate points in the compass. Unfortunately, most of our 
 teachers are, in their circumstances, dependent upon these popular 
 fancies; and the history of education, (if it can be called history 
 in so young a country as this) shews that there is yet nothing 
 stable in this department of the work of life. There is yet no- 
 thing like solidity attained in the public judgment about it. This 
 refltition encourages me to come forward and offer a few sugges- 
 tions, and start a few (picstions, which may lead to thought on the 
 subject of education, in the hope that they may here and there 
 tind some attention, and possibly approbation, and may have some 
 slight influence— very slight it may be, yet some— in bringing 
 about a more sober state of judgment upon the subject than that 
 which (as I conceive) at present pre\ ails. 
 
' 
 
 Tlio firnt question which presonts itsnlf toom-consi<lonition Rocmfi 
 
 to hi', " WHAT IS THE KND AND IM'Ul'OSR OF El)l'f'\TION ?" It WOllId, 
 
 perhaps ho answered in very <T;eniMal terms hy some, that o»hica- 
 tion means the sendin-,' a i)oy to school Well ! certainly that is 
 one step, and a deci<led and proper one to take : hut we want 
 (without heinj? too philosophical) somethinj^ further than this in 
 the way of an account of the ohject of education. Let us say, tirst, 
 then that its ohject is to (fmw out and ifciwlop the jwiiwrH of the 
 mhxl. This is a view which few will question.— Tiiere are, indeed, 
 some parents (hut fortunately they are not many) who are con- 
 tented to have their children kept out of harm's way, and to s«//they 
 liave heen to school ;— hut every man of sense expects somethinj^ 
 more than this. He expects to see the frrowth of themind keep pace 
 with the ^nowth of the hody, and to receive his son home apiiii 
 from school or coUetre, iu)t merely witli an active hody, or a pleas- 
 injr countenmu',e, hut witli a stren^tlu'ned intellect, ready to -;-rasp 
 the ideas of others promptly and vigorously, and ahle to strike out 
 ideas of its own. And this is what he has a rijjrht, in ordinary 
 cases, to expect; he has a rij;ht to expect it, wherever the trerm 
 has heen implanted by nature ; wherever there is capacity. But, 
 besides this, there is a second ohject which all sensible parents 
 keep prominently in view— T know not whether they will not 
 class it in the first place. From school or coller^e, accordino- to 
 circumstances (accordinir, e. g. to the means of the parent, or the 
 particular path marked out for the youth in life,) lie expects Ids 
 son to bring not only a developed wfellecf, but a developed eharar- 
 tcr. What good purpose can be said to be gained by an education 
 which lias taileci to give this ? What is mere mental power void 
 of all principle to direct it ? The youth who is turned loose upon 
 society, urcaught to govern himself, can oidy be prevented from 
 becoming a very pest to it, by his being kept too closely employed 
 to run wild. The more influence his position gives him, the more 
 mischievous will he be likely to become ; the more intellectually 
 cultivated he is, the more is he enabled to work harm to his 
 neighbours, and to himself. Imagine a young man of cultivated 
 powers of mind, with no sense of justice, little care for honesty, 
 expediency the magnet of his life instead of the principle of inte- 
 

 
 grity, with, it may bo, a crnvcn hfiiit lii«M.'H uikIit ft biaixijftrt 
 exterior,— iiiia^'iiu) hucIi ii )<>utli » ant Ioohc upon tint worl<l, wliut 
 good can conic out of l.ini^ 'i''"' '"^'-t- tliut can l.c lu-iu-.l for 
 liini is, that iiis folly may In- covcrcl for a while; hut all who 
 lno\v liiui mu^t feci (|nit! wire that in a few yearn he will heconio 
 a |>ul.li»! nuinance. 'l"hc .Mhication, therefore, wliich failrt to iin- 
 |)art this princiiile of HeU-jrovctrninent and sclf-res|>(!ct— ^Ac r<liica. 
 tlon which fai/n to form churachr—mmt ciertainly bo deficient. 
 How much it if* acktiowledj^ed detident even by tlieniHclves, thoHU 
 vh(» profess to undervalue it hardly kn(»w. The proof of this 
 awrtion is found in the anxiety and care shewn by all purents 
 and jfuartiians of youtli to ascertain the character and habits of 
 the locality in which, and the nuister under whom, they intend to 
 place the subject for education. It is, indee<l, a point on which 
 even the careless are often careful, however unconsiiiously some- 
 times to themselves. 
 
 In preparation then for life, i. e. in education, the formation of 
 character, or, in other words, moual training, is of primary im- 
 portance. Without it, education wants ils bri^-htcst ornament. 
 I would go a stej) further, and say that education to be etfeclual, 
 mu.sl have nlhjious IraiaiiKj an well as mom/. If a man is likely 
 to be made a better citizen by the formation of a sound moral 
 character, this likelihood is enlianeed a hundrediold, by the fact of 
 Lis nu)rality being enforced by, as well as drawn from, relij^ion. 
 Religion is the best teacher of morality. The man who has the 
 foar'of God before his eyes— who has a lively sense of the reality 
 of a future state, in which his lot will be api»ortion(!d acciording to 
 >vhat he has been in this world, is the most likely of all men to walk 
 warily and circumspectly— to follow that one golden rule upon 
 which the welfare of society depends, that each .diould " do m he 
 vould be done by." The religious man— I do not mean the 
 boaster in religion, or the selfish, vain, so-calle-l religionist, but— 
 the man whose conduct is regulated by the rule of (iod's word, 
 and in whose heart (iod's law is written— Ae is, of all men, the 
 one to discharge the duties oi' social life the most effectual ly. 
 Where, if not in him, are you to look for the qualities of a good son, 
 a good brother, a good husband, a good father, a good servant, a 
 
' 
 
 
 (rood mfwtor, a trustworthy fn<'"<li 'in lionoRt <>.ounH(rllor, an uprij^ht 
 fleali^r? Wliorc, if not in him, arc you to find a high Houlod 
 c.itiz(«n? llavo yon to trunt any ono with your uionoy, or your in- 
 toH'stH ? wiiore cIhi- will y<m Hiid the miin you rc<iuir(«, hut ainonjr 
 tlKwo whoHC powers of mintl hare hrm rorrfnl/,/ n„rt>,ml niuhr « 
 sydra which took palm with Ihv foriimthn of charnrtn, which 
 Hlampcd that character with ajirni and hstiiKj outthu, h>/ i/irlnff 
 to it an abidinif Hcme of the fear of God and desire of Ilia 
 
 favor '^ * 
 
 1 Rni)i)oso, then, we may consicUv the question now answered 
 —what are the ohjects at which i"(hieation ainis? They are the 
 cuUivation of the powers of the mind and the formation of virtuous 
 
 cluiracter. 
 
 HelisiiouH eduoaticm T have spoken of only as jiiviiit; th(> highest 
 Beeurity for the latter of the two, as well as the hij^diest sanction 
 of it. On this suhject 1 will only add one word more ; hut the 
 jvspeet of the time re(iuires that it should he sai<l. If eihwation 
 is a preparation for life— if this life is hut a scho(d or place of 
 preparation for another— if the soul is inunortal— if <ieath is hut 
 a second hirth into a new sphere of existence to whicli this life is 
 preparatory, in which man will he exalted in powers an<l in cha- 
 racter, as mucdi heyond his present heinj^ as that is heyond the 
 condition in which he entered on this life— then, how absurd, 
 how wickcMl, how fraujilit with wretche<lncss, must he the desire to 
 banish relij^ion altogether from the field of education. I'repara- 
 tion for etcu-nity is the intcu-est, it is the plain and undeniable duty, 
 I do not say of every Christian— hut of kvehy man, who helieves 
 THERE IS A r,oD, of evenj man who holds himself to he of a higher 
 order than the brutes around him which perish, of every man who 
 looks forward heyond the present moment, of every man who 
 hopes for happiness himself, or cares for the happiness of his 
 otlVprint?. It is his duty, it is his interest, to look well to the 
 moral and intellectual trainino; of the beiujr or beinjrs to whom he 
 
 •This naragnu.h will be donbtlcas recognized by some of my readers, 
 as built upon parts of that admirable work, Bishop Butler's Analogy ; 
 to others I may be allowed to recommend a reference to c. i. at the 
 end, c. iii. 3, 4, c. v. 2 of p. 1., as containing muchuiatter for thought on 
 the topics here brought together. 
 
8 
 
 has imparted existence, or who look to him for control and guid- 
 
 I will proceed, then, to offer you a few further thoughts upon 
 this all-important subject, in the hope of enhancing the estimate 
 ^vhich some persons may have formed of education, and also of 
 throwing out some hints which may be useful to those who have 
 not thought much about it, but have taken up, just as they found 
 them, the vague popular notions which are afloat. In pursuing 
 this object, I will endeavour to make my remarks fall under the 
 two heads before mentioned, of moral training and int(illectual 
 
 development. 
 
 The first of these I have already in some measure treated ot. 
 I will therefore resiune the consideration an-^l dispose of it at once, 
 promising to be as brief as the subject permits ot my being. 
 
 The necessity of moral training would be suggested to a reflect- 
 ing mind by the circumstances in which we are all placed. (1)/^ 
 is natural to us— I e., it is in harmony with that uniform system 
 which God has established for the government of the world, which 
 system or law we call ' nature.' Nature, then, or God's voice 
 
 SPEAKING through 1 JE ORDER AND SYSTEM WHICH HE HAS A- 
 
 BLTSHED, requires that we should seek in education to foi> • -3 
 character, as well as improve the powers of the intellect. The vo.ce 
 of nature declaies for it directly, by the fact that we choose, that 
 we vahie, that we reward, that we love good men for their own 
 sake; that we abhor and punish vice because it is vice, quite 
 independently of the consideration of the effects which it pro- 
 duces, its advantages or disadvantages to society. Now good- 
 ness is formed like any other quality of the mind or heart, 
 by habit and practice— we need "schooling" for it and into 
 it. (2) It is further worth while to observe how naiuro has 
 prepared us for this formation! of character, and the obligation 
 to us thence arising to attend to this point, I might slmost 
 say above all others,' in education, The ardent pursuit of desired 
 objects by young persons, and tlic chill indifference of old age 
 to the same objects, are so well known a^' to be found prover- 
 bially in the K^outh of all persons. What is the account of this 
 phenomenon ? TTAy is it so ? Nature [i. e., let me repeat once 
 
more, the fixed law of God,] has so ordered that we act 
 accordiiigtoageand circumstances, from different springs of motion 
 — sometiTnes we are led by reason, sometimes by interest ; but 
 principally, in youth especially, by passion or desire. We have 
 within us a set of feelings and emotions— anger, love, hatred, 
 jealousy, pity, fear, and others; and we find ourselves placed in 
 a condition where external circumstances present themselves to 
 these feelings as inducements and incentives to action. In young 
 persons these feelings or propensities are very strong— so strong 
 as to be often called irresistible : in old age they wear out, and in 
 the uncducntod subject, a mean, low, selfish calculation of interest 
 takes the place of these often generous, but always active, and 
 sometimes impetuous, feelings and propensities. Now we observe 
 of these feelings that there are two classes which have respectively 
 a tendency towards good and evil, virtue and vice. ^ They are 
 therefore so ftir opposed to each other ; but in this point they are 
 alike, that as the character is developed they become weaker ; and 
 iiADiT takes the place of feeling. A man's anger or his pride 
 will increase with his years, if he give way to them ; but if we 
 mark it well, it is not the feeling which increases, but the habit 
 or character which is formed. The passionate man gives way to 
 his intemperate emotions on much less provocation as his habit 
 increases. He may feel more often angry, or be made angry more 
 easily ; but it is not now keenness of feeling which leads him to 
 anger. We may see the working of this theory more plainly by 
 taking another example : sympathy, for instance, or compassion. 
 The first field of battle which a soldier witnesses is fraught to him 
 with horror; yet a few years of such awful experience destroys his 
 feeling, and he hears the groans of the sufferer, witnesses the death 
 even of a friend or companion, and sees blood spilt like water, 
 with inditlerence. So, too, in the medical profession. Every 
 one is aware that the surgeon acquires his needful though painful 
 skill, only at the cost of feeling rendered less acute by a series of 
 consecutive acts, whereby a habit of indifference is formed. Now, 
 the object of these feelings is to set us on to a particular course of 
 action ; and if we wait till they become blunted or dulled by ex- 
 posure to the chill atmosphere of life, we lose altogether the help 
 
10 
 
 which they are intended, in God's wisdom, to afford us. Tlie 
 siglit of misery will, at first, wring tears of sympathy from us, 
 whether we will or not. If those tears move our hearts as they 
 should do, we advance toivards the habit or character of benevo- 
 lence. If they fail io lead us to the intended action, we form a 
 habit of indifference. Bat either way thefeeUwjs lose their pmoer; 
 we are moved a second, or a third, or a twentieth, or a fiftieth 
 time, by the sight of distress, i\. is true, but every time we arc 
 less and less moved ; twenty times the amount of suffering will 
 not, it may be, move us as much as a single case of moderate 
 hardship once did. 
 
 I nuist not dwell too long on this one topic, interesting and 
 important though it be. Nor need I many words to enforce its 
 application. If right feelings are to be used as inducements to 
 right action, and wrong feelings to be guarded against, lest they 
 lead aside to a course of vice and misery, where^ let me ask, are 
 we to begin ? Is it not wrong, awfully wrong, to deny to education 
 the right to influence and guide these feelings? It is not matter 
 of indiftercnce, said a philosopher of great renown, in old time, it 
 is of importance, nay, it is of the utmost importance," it makes all 
 the difterence," to be well trained from early youth.* 
 
 I must add one more word of wisdom, which is found in the 
 
 same author — we must take care that the character which is formed 
 
 })e real. — It is easy to pass for virtuous in the world — but he is 
 
 not a good man whose virtue is not from the heart. The good 
 
 man must be/owo? of virtue, just as the huntsman loves to follow 
 
 the hounds and chase the fox, or the sportsman delights in his 
 
 doffs and his gun. I am not, of course, literally rendering to you 
 
 the words of Aristotle, to whom I alluded — the manners of his 
 
 time were different from those of ours ; and I could not use his 
 
 terms exactly, without going round to explain or paraphrase ; but 
 
 that is the sort of illustr^ition he uses. Then it is not an easy 
 
 thing to be really a good man ; and, as the journey is a long and 
 
 difficult one, it is well to be up and start in good time. Tie who 
 
 lies in bed when there is a busy day before him, is not accounted 
 
 *Ari3t: Eth : 2, 1. 
 
11 
 
 wise- and that svstcm which would lead us to set little value or» 
 the formation o/character in education, is, I fear we must say, not 
 
 a wise or good one. 
 
 It will be said, Oh, but after all, a man passes well enougK 
 through the world, without all this depth of character ; he may be 
 a little virtuous, or he may put on the appearance of vn-tue, winch 
 will answer every purpose of life.-So Falstaff thought ! but the 
 sentiment was fitted to the man : « I was as virtuously 
 given as a gentleman need be-virtuous enough. * \ cry 
 good morality for such a profligate; but very poor morality 
 for any one except a profligate; yet see how largely such 
 morality prevails in our own day-not cloaking, it is true, the same 
 low and profligate debauchery, but justifying the money-seeking, 
 fortune-huntir.g spirit of the age. "Virtuous as a gentleman need be 
 is in this view counted yet good sound sense : " Rem quocunque 
 modo rem,"t-money, get money-somehow-anyhow; " Virtus 
 post nummos,"t-cash tirst-virtue by and by ; be rich, then it is 
 time enough to think of being good ; all this is too much m keep- 
 ing with the temper of the age.— The age, I foar, would be found 
 wanting, when weighed in the balance even of the philosopher, 
 were we' to lay religion, and the fact of our being here in a state 
 of preparatory discipline for our real life, out of the question. No : 
 education must comprehend training, and the formation of charac- 
 ter : without this it will be worthless.— The character must be 
 real : the false character may anmcr (if we are to descend to such 
 ground of argument) for a while ; hut it can seldom answer in the 
 long run, it will never answer in the end, when all things are to 
 be judged before Unerring Wisdom. For the formation of this 
 reality" )f character, there is a necessity in education of indulging 
 to the subject of it all reasonable liberty of choice and action. 
 There can be no reality without such liberty. You may force a 
 young person to take a particular line, or follow a given course; 
 but, unless you can lead him to see the necessity and importance 
 of the course, and to like it, you have done little towards the for- 
 mation of character or principle in him. That system, therefore, 
 will most surely answer its purpose, (nay, it is the only one which 
 
 ♦ K. Henry IV. Act. iii. so. iii. 
 t Hor: 1, Epist. 1, 54, 66. 
 
12 
 
 will answer its purpose,) which has the lines of right and wrong 
 broadly, deeply marked, always and everywhere plainly discerna- 
 ble, and, at the same time, unchanging; which says :" beyond 
 these you must not pass ;" yet, within them allows, and not only 
 alloios hut encourar/es liberty ; and with liberty, what always accom- 
 panies it in successful training, personal responsibility. It is a 
 very old story that " you can lead a horse to the water, but you 
 cannot make him drink." That training which excites no thirst 
 for virtue, fails of its design. The training Avhich has but one 
 stiff starclied pattern, and allows no play for individuality of cha- 
 racter or disposition, may succeed now and then, but will, on the 
 whole, be a failure too. 
 
 I ought, perhaps, here to observe that the formation of wliat we 
 call manners, which is certainly a point of importance, is closely 
 connected with moral training. Indeed, in all cases, but those of 
 marked hypocrisy, it may well be said, that manners are the out- 
 ward exhibition of the inward man. " Manners tnakyth man," * is a 
 very old English motto, and one well worth remembering. Thus, 
 a truly Christian man cannot fail of being a gentleman, in the 
 most proper sense of the word. And he who is in heart kind and 
 courteous, and charitable in his judgment of others, who is unwill- 
 ing to give or take offence, has no taste for quarrelling, is troubled 
 with no overweening self-esteem, mUvSt be a singular prodigy of 
 contradiction, if his every day life, and common actions do not 
 carry the same stamp of courteous and considerate regard for 
 others. 
 
 I have said enough now, perhaps more than enough, upon one 
 of the designs of education, moral training. I have been draAvn 
 into this course, by the belief, that in this aye it is necessary to 
 insist upon this view of the subject: and in the hope that these 
 remarks may possibly suggest some thoughts to those whose minds 
 the vortex of business and life, in this ever stirring, and onward- 
 moving age, keeps too much within its own stream, to allow of 
 such a train of thought being natural, or perhaps agreeable to them. 
 
 • The motto of William of Wykeham, founder of the College of Win- 
 chester, and New College in Oxford. 
 
I pass on to offer you a few further observations upon the other 
 
 head of INTELLECTUAL CULTURE. 
 
 Here, perhaps, the subject is open to the same stricture which 
 I have just been passing upon the other part of education. How- 
 ever strange it may sound, I think that it is true, that education 
 —intellectual cultivation,— is not sufficiently valued amongst our- 
 selves. This assertion, however, I woukl not make without a 
 certain limitation. The district school houses, scattered every- 
 where over the face of the country, might rise up in witness against 
 me witliout this— (and, indeed, if the unoccupied school houses 
 were allowed to form into the rank, there would be a formidable 
 phalanx arrayed against me.) The model schools would come 
 sharply upon the heels of the district ones— and the academies 
 and many other useful and efficient schools (private or public) 
 would rail at me loudly : and surely I should have a storm to meet 
 at the hands of the Superintendents and other parties officially 
 connected with the educational department. Even our legislators 
 
 busy as they are from time to time on this subject— would come 
 
 into the field, and the charge of wilful ingratitude towards them 
 would be laid at my door. Certainly I do not covet such a pow- 
 erful host of adversaries, and must therefore explain myself. 
 
 The point on which I think there is a great and general mis- 
 apprehension and wrong estimate of education is, that people seek 
 in it nothing more than a means to an end. They do not value 
 educvition for its own sake, they do not value education, because it 
 developes the powers of the mind, and raises man to a higher state of 
 being ; but they have in seeking it some immediate object in view for 
 the most part, and when a sufficiency of mental culture has been 
 attained for that particular object, they are quite contented to 
 rest there. Education must not only bring, but be demonstra- 
 tively shewn to bring, in every case, and to bring immediately, its 
 " quid pro quo. " Thus, there are cases where when a boy can 
 write and ciphei', and read the newspaper, eVerj^thing is considered 
 accomplished that need be done. In another, book-keeping is the 
 summum bonum. In another, a little mathematics, and particu- 
 larly the power of mensuration and surveying, seems to open a 
 vast field to the youthful ambition. In a word, though every- 
 
14 
 
 hod}/ wants to learn, almost everybody wishes to learn as little as 
 possible. Lcarniiiti; is not souglit for its own sake, nor docs a 
 young man tliink (nor a young man's father, in too many cases, 
 lead him to suppose), that be will become a greater and nobler 
 being by cultivating the powers with .which God has gifted him. 
 Tlio railroad or the counting house is open to him at an early 
 period, and tliere he finds what both his own feelings of self-im- 
 portance and desire to escape from control, and also his father's 
 indoctrination, have led him to covet, immediate independence, 
 and the possibility, or, as he views it, the probability, of his rising 
 speedily above n)ere independence. And even those whose aspi- 
 rations are'hio'her, find too often what may be called the learned 
 professions, not only open their door to tliem as soon as they 
 knock for a<lmission, but almost coax them to come in. While 
 this state of things continues, we cannot become a grea"^ people. 
 We may be a prosperous, wc may be a wealthy, but we cannot be 
 ■a great people. We shall grow proud and self-complacent ; we may 
 grow luxurious and extravagant, but we shall never grow to be a 
 great nation. Thus our railroads and other public enter{)rises, 
 which seem to be clear evidence of our greatness, are in a serious 
 and truthful point of view, things full of omen and apprehension to 
 us. Our material prosperity is beyond our age ; we are going on 
 too fast ; and when our history is written in the book of time, this 
 fact will be recorded against us. Could the country then call back 
 her professional men, her lawyers, her doctors, and her teachers, 
 from the railroad, the counting liouse, or the gold mine, could 
 she restore to their books and training the youths who have been 
 so prematurely and unwisely called away into various fields of 
 money making, she might congratulate herself. She wants now 
 men of learning and men of character. She cries for them among 
 the teachers of her chidren. She cries for them in her halls of judg- 
 ment. She cries for them amongst her spiritual pastors. She cries for 
 them in her various deliberative assemblies. There is a strong 
 call, (if I may be allowed to use the medium of reality of vision, 
 withouthaving my loyalty impeached or mj affection for the noble 
 COUNTRY to which I owe my own education and my birth called in 
 question) there is, I say, evident to the thoughtful, a strong call 
 
15 
 
 to bo providing and preparing the men who shall represent out 
 country with dignity in foreign Courts, and among the oldest and 
 most polished nations of the world, and support her claim to the 
 place which, I must be allowed UyhaWGwa, principally through the 
 accidental circumstance of her being in a great measure filled with 
 people from old and developed nations, (a young country, so to 
 speak, peopled at once with full grown minds) she has of late 
 years taken, and established her present right to hold. Now, 
 retired railway makers or railway speculators, retired merchants, 
 or retired and fortunate gold finders, are not the men to legislate 
 for A couNTKY THAT WOULD BE A GREAT COUNTRY, or to adminis- 
 ter her laws ; they are not the men to heal the diseases of her 
 people, be those diseases either of the body or the mind — we want 
 men devoting themselves to these high purposes and callings, and 
 devoting themselves heart and soul to thefn, from their youth. 
 Men who have been brought up in habits of business, are not 
 ordinarily capable, — such is the power of custom and habituation 
 
 of turning their powers, at a period of life when they retire 
 
 from business, to new pursuits, and those pursuits arduous and 
 onerous. And they do not wish to do so. They have laboured : 
 — they laboured for future ease and enjoyment. Their labour is 
 now over, and they demand the opportunity for enjoyment in peace 
 and quiet. The country which calls for men to do her work, and 
 serve her public interests, wants men fresh and vigorous, and she 
 wants them able and prepared— tlmy must be competent to set 
 about the work she has marked out for them with spirit, and to 
 set about it with judgment in the right way : in a word she wants 
 men of disciplined minds and of cultivated understandings. Look 
 at such a man as Elihu Burritt, a man, I believe, of ordinary powers 
 and standing at the commencement of life, now a man not merely 
 of independence but of public importance. The interests of nations 
 not long ago found and still find their advocate, (and no mean one) 
 in him.* What made him the man he is ? — What else but first, 
 
 *At the time when this was written, early in the year 1855, Mr. Burritt 
 was corresponding, in England, with members of the Cabinet there, as 
 well as those of his own country to procure the establishment of a 
 better syatom and easier terms of correspondence between England and 
 America. He is now in a like spirit, endeavouring to procure the eman- 
 dpation of negroes in the neighbouring States. 
 
1 1 
 
 16 
 
 •( 
 
 decided character, and then mental culture (the two branches I 
 have treated of in Education.) True, his was a remarkable 
 c'ourse. lie is a raan in a thousand or in a million, a highly self- 
 educated man (not that pet ideal of the age, a self-made man, but 
 as opposed to a self-made, a self-educated man,) a man that won 
 his way in the world, one may say, with a hammer in one hand 
 and a book in the other, his time being divided equally between 
 the two conflicting claims of business and of literature, or, one 
 might almost say, of education. Yet he is an undeniable example 
 of what I am speaking of — the certainty that it is learning and 
 character, not wealth, nor station, which makes a great man. 
 Were I myself now a young man, as full of ambition as young 
 men often are, as I once was, had I the coolness to look around 
 me calmly, and weigh my future destiny in the balance of proba- 
 bility, I should feel that there was open to my ambition in such a 
 country as this, under its present circumstances, such a path of 
 distinction as is rarely offered. I should devote myself to study — 
 all kinds of study — but out of all, most to the study of man, whether 
 of the living or the dead, the world around me, or the pages of 
 history and philosophy ; and I should count myself sure at no 
 very late period of life of a career of high distinction, — I should 
 feel that I might aspire to sway the interests, ere I had run my 
 course, of this whole people. Not that such an end as this can 
 be easily or readily attained ; there is no short cut to it ; it is here 
 as in the case the poet describes, 
 
 Qui ?tudet optatam cursu contingere metam, 
 Multa tulit fecitque puer, sudavit et alsit * 
 Who, in Olympic games, would win the race, 
 Through hardships rude his youthful way must trace, 
 And sweating toil or shivering cold embrace. 
 There is need of patience, there is need of presevering diligence: 
 the pathway to eminence m,ust lie up hill, due preparation must 
 be had, difficulties must be overcome, early disappointments must 
 be put up with. The pleasant fruit must grow out from a bitter 
 root, — the tree must be climbed before the fruit can be reached. 
 
 •Hor.De Art: Poet. 1.412. 
 
It 
 
 Yet still I think this way to distinction is open. And with respect 
 to what I may call fortune-seeking by steam (or to keep pace with 
 the age, shall I say, by electricity ?) the prediction may not be a 
 popular one to make, but it may be an useful one for all that, that 
 the opening which is thus afforded (especially to young men) to 
 find remunerative employment at an unfairly early period, will in 
 the end lead to disappointment. A man, to rise liigh in any 
 profession, (except it be under the peculiar circumstances of a sud- 
 den great and urgent demand for services such as he can render, 
 a demand which from its very nature cannot be lasting,) requires 
 to have had a good general education. Under the most favorable 
 circumstances, education will always be of importance, even to 
 the adventurer : it will be to his advancement, what weight and 
 bulk is to a body in motion. You may stop a hand car at a high 
 speed, in a few minutes : but a train of cars, though the speed be 
 no greater, must run on and on ; it has in its own bulk a power 
 of progress which the lighter machine has not. So it is with the 
 man of general education, when he enters on a profession. He 
 carries a weight which will force him ahead, and, if he have 
 competitors, will enable him to leave them behind. Whilst then 
 our railroads are built by English engineers, whilst the works they 
 involve are great enough to call in amongst us men of first rate 
 talent and standing from an old country, whilst those who are 
 imported into the country to take tlie lead, are sure to bring with 
 them dependents and followers, and whilst those who come out 
 here to begin in these lesser situations are, as a rule, men of edu- 
 cation of a higher stamp than those who enter the same profession 
 in the country itself; we need not be surprised, if we hear of cases 
 of disappointment, and in a few years meet with those who regret 
 they had not kept steadily to their farms, or their professions, or 
 their studies. 
 
 Insisting thus upon the unportance of education, I may be 
 asked (and very reasonably asked) what sort of education it is 
 which is thus important. In answering the question I may be again 
 obliged to go against popular opinion. It is that kind of education 
 which appears of least immediate importance : it is that department 
 of knowledge which is sought, if sought at all, as an end, not as a 
 
 B 
 
18 
 
 means, it is tliat e.lucation who^e aim is t(^ clcvelop the powers of 
 the mind, not to prepare for u profession or to hrin- a speeciy 
 return of capital. It is (piite true, that in a yonnt? country this 
 idea of the immediate return of capital, as I have called it must, 
 to a certain extent, enter into all our calculatiouH; hut that is a 
 defect and a misfortune, and it must be borne in mind that it is so. 
 The idea o? makhif/ education 'paij, must have its weijjhf, but it 
 is an idea wliich should not find too cordial an cntertauimeiit: it 
 should be a passinj? guest, not a set companion. Whilst then I 
 qnite concur in the opinion that there is no department of educa- 
 tion which is not worth, (and well ^vorth) cultivati.^n, 1 should at 
 the sam.^ time draw a line between the departments, and separate 
 those which have the most direct and powerful effect in formincr the 
 mind, from those whose tendency to this end is less <lirect. It may 
 be difficult thus to draw any exact line, and going through all the 
 subiects of education dispose them so within those two dopartnients 
 that all should ac(piiesce in the division, and 1 should hardly hope 
 to effect this ; yet the same sort of difficulty besets us everywhere. 
 We are, all our life long, engaged in drawing lines between what is 
 good and bad, right and wrong, expedient or not expedient, pleas- 
 ant or not pleasant; and there is, all along, the same difficulty in 
 making classifications of subjects, which shall satisty all. Yet we 
 constantly make them and are obliged to make them. 
 
 First in the list, out of all, I should myself-regarding man as 
 always in infancy in this world, and under schooling for another, 
 —place such studies as would tend to make him acquainted with 
 the nature of the Divine Being, and the proofs of His moral 
 government of the world, and His attributes, (as these subjects arc 
 tauo-ht both by Natural Religion and by Revelation.) He must 
 understand also his own relation to that Divine J3eing, both m 
 the present and in a future life, and the dependence of his condi- 
 tion in the latter, upon the fulfilment of the conditions of Ins 
 bein.r in the present, and the elevation of his moral nature. Where 
 this primary subject is made light of, I cannot but think that the 
 highest of all subjects of education is neglected, and all the refine- 
 raent which it gives, is only in the end so much vanity and 
 vexation. 
 
 ' 
 
 » 
 
1& 
 
 Of wliat concerns hh present condition, and, as it would be said, 
 "fits hiiu for life," I Hhould pliico first, those subjects which tend 
 to elevate him in his relation to his fellow men, and give hira a 
 superiority over the uneducated or the less highly educated. 
 
 For this end, those studies are of primary in.i.ortance, which 
 give him a knowledge of man in his various rehitions in private 
 life, and in public, as a complete and iiulei.endent being, and aa a 
 member of various bodies. In this view, education must deal with 
 men of all characters, in all countries, and in all ages.. History, 
 ancient and modern, therefore, (from such works a.s Macaulay, 
 Alison, Grote, Gibbon, and a vast number of others down to mere 
 biographies of individuals) must occupy a prominent place, and 
 with history should be connected a certain portion of the study of 
 Geography and Chronology as being its necessary and inseparable 
 companions. ., okal Philosophy, and, as being the truest ex- 
 ponent of life and customs of the age it belongs to, the Drama, 
 will form one very important head of study. Another, (and shall 
 it yield in importance to the former?) will be the cultivation of 
 his powers of reasoning ; and here Mathematics and Logic meet 
 us with a claim to an early place in every scheme of education, 
 and such a claim as will t^vke no denial. And how shall we allow 
 that branch of study to give place to any other, which has to deal 
 with the powers of speaking and \/riting ? Where are Grammar, 
 Composition, and Rhetoric to stand, if not in the front rank ? 
 Who has greater power or influence over his fellow men, who is 
 more raised above them, than the well educated speaker ? Who ? 
 There may be one other in these days— for there is a 
 character, (may he pardon ray opinion if he concur not 
 in it,) who holds almost too powerful a position in these days 
 —I mean the Editor! Perhaps some one may be disposed to 
 quarrel with me for not having given even a higher place than I 
 am giving by placing them here, to those studies which elevate 
 the powers of imagination. Poetry on the one hand, (and as being 
 the expression of poetry, the Fine Arts,) and Metaphysics on 
 the other, both of them studies of high intellectual character, and 
 ot great importance. 
 
 The study of Lakquage is one which should be as highly cul- 
 
 i»* j w n ■:s* yg ^.*-j''^f»a** ju fJitit" V^ f3(^» 
 
20 
 
 tivatcd as possible. Tn those rlnys especially, when all the world 
 is being continually more and more brought tofrether, and it id 
 impossible to say whom you may jostle in the street to-mo' )W, 
 a Chinaman, a I^ornese, a Russian, a Turk, or a New Zealander, 
 (not to allude to such every day persons as a Frenchmnn, or a 
 German, or Spaniard, or Italian,) this branch of study seems to 
 have gained an increased importance, althouyh, we mnst always 
 remember, no ordinanj study of a ianyuaye will impart much power 
 of conversiny in it. It has, however, another infinitely higher 
 source of importance, and having had it all along, will ever retain 
 it: the almost incalculable advantage of enabling men to enter 
 into the literature of otlier countries and compare together the 
 minds ofnatioPH one with another : for the characters of nations 
 are as varied and as peculiar as tlie idiosyncrasies of individuals. 
 And here I must put in a plea for what is commonly known as 
 Classical Literature. It is becoming very sadly the fashion 
 now a-days to enquire, what can be the use of Latin and Greek, 
 except to turn man into a bookworm ? I am sorry, very sorry, 
 for the prevalence of this fancy. The age, I fear, will have 
 to stand its trial on the charge of rash presumption, in slighting 
 what has borne so well the test of time. The study of these lan- 
 guages offers one of the best med'i which can be attained, for 
 disciplining the mind and developing i*' p' 'vers. If mvolves the 
 study of the principles of lanyuage^ of its structure, its power to 
 express thouyhts and represent ideas : and besides, the Latin and 
 Greek contain the dements of so many lanyuayes, so many of the 
 languages of nations which fill the most prominent places in civi- 
 lized life, and European institutions and the European mind have 
 grown so immediately out of and are so confessedly built upon 
 and influenced by the Roman, and the Roman again in so 
 great measure by the Grecian, that to take away the study 
 of these languages from our schools, were in a fair sense to 
 take away the key of knowledge. Besides, in them we gain ac- 
 quaintance with the sources of almost all branches of study. In 
 those languages exist some of the ablest Histories that ever were 
 written. The names of Thucydides, Herodotus, Tacitus, Livy, and 
 others, have been known through hundreds— aye thousands — of 
 
 c 
 
21 
 
 c 
 
 yeaw : it rf^inains to bo Rocn yet, whether Macaulay, or AliHon, 
 or othora, will j^hare the like good fortune. I Ao not mi^h to 
 parti(Mihuizy any of these names, nor do I mean to say that they 
 will not; but who can be n-sponsiblo for them that they will? 
 And what Philosnpht/ of hunmn origin can surpass the (ireeian ? 
 Our modern systems are almost all built upon that foundation, and 
 that foundation is, as foundations are wont to bo, of a far more 
 Rolid charaeter than the superstructure ? We have nlluded to the 
 Drama and Poetrt/. That of classical ages will well bear to be 
 laid side by ide with any modern productions, when philosophi- 
 cally investigated. I am here, again, far frotn meaning to depre- 
 ciate our own writers in this branch ; miy, I think thei/ are 
 aeneralh/ not half enowjh studied ; but the ancients have this on 
 their side, on a primft- facie view of the case, tliat they made their 
 compositions tell to a wondci-ful extent with much less aid from 
 acting, and in general what may be called the " getting up " of 
 their plays. It is recorded by Herodotus that the poet Phrynicua 
 composed a play called the " taking of Miletus," and that the re- 
 presentation of it at Athens (which was in close friendship with 
 Miletus) melted the audience to tears, and moved them so touching- 
 ly, that they fined Fhrynicus for stirring up the memory of their 
 calamities, and forbade him ever to exhibit the play again. What 
 they wanted in effect they made up for by power of mental con- 
 ception, and their striking aptness of expression. Have we again to 
 deal with Lo(;ic and Rhetoric ? We have to go back to Classical 
 Literature to get at the source from which they have flowed down 
 to us. We have to go back to Classical Literature, to under- 
 stand the very terms which modern treatises, built upon them, 
 employ. We have to go back to Classical Literature to correct 
 mistakes into which modern writers have fallen from misconceiving 
 
 them. 
 
 I trust I have said enough to vindicate in some measure the 
 Classics from the oblivion into which many in the present day 
 would cast them. I could say more, but I have already taxed 
 your patience too long. 
 
 It might perhaps be expected that in accordance with the taste 
 of the age one might add to the list of studiee which are concern. 
 
22 
 
 i 
 
 ed with man's relption to man, some little knowledge of Law and 
 Ml uiciNE : ovevy man is, now a-days, t > be liisown lawyer and 
 liis own doctor. Certainly tlie pi'inciples of law and medicine are 
 subjects Avo may profitably study ; but v ben we go on to dabble 
 in the practice of them, we had better take care. With the leave 
 of the gentlemen of both Professions I would say, happy i:^ the 
 man who can keep out of their reach ; but when we have need 
 of law or medicine, it is undeniable that " a little learning is a 
 daiigerous thing," and we had better avail ourselves of the services 
 of those who have drunk deep into the subjects, and not attempt 
 to put our own crude notions into practice. 
 
 There are other branches of education with which I must deal 
 somewhat summarily. Those which relate to the knowledge of 
 the material world in which we live, and other similar bodies, 
 and to the knowledge of the varieties of races of creatures with 
 which our globe is stocked. I am far from denying nmch impor- 
 tance to such studies as Geology, MiNERAtoav, Botany, or 
 Natural History, but I cannot at all concede to them, in accord- 
 ance with the spirit of the age, the first place. They are tlie 
 more important, because when approached in a proper spirit, they 
 are found to bear testimony as ample as it is constant, to the 
 wisdom and beneficence of the Creator. The study of x\.stronom y 
 is calculated to produce the same excellent eftect in a high degree. 
 " The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament shew- 
 eth His handywork," aud their voices are heard in all lands 
 uttering His praise. Chemistry is another of the studies, which 
 is very important, bearing, as it does, upon the arts, the conveni- 
 ences and comforts of life. Yet it is a subject for which I think 
 sometimes too high a place is claimed ; it is one, as it appears to 
 me which is to be followed not as an end, but as a means ; and as a 
 means, it leads not to the perfection of the higher powers of man, 
 but rather to the gratification of those tastes, which are not pecu- 
 liar to him, as the lord of the created world. 
 
 There is one other branch of study on which I must say a word, 
 but only a word, before concluding; the study of the Fine 
 Arts, Music, Painting, Sculpture and the like. They are 
 studies which are not generally esteemed or pursued as studies, 
 
 
23 
 
 
 . 
 
 they are considered to belong to the refinenT^nt and polish, not 
 the reality, of life. They are not therefore so generally important 
 as some others. One of them, however, I should myself be inclined 
 to move up to a higher class. Music is, I tliink, a refinement or 
 accomplishment which is worthy of a higher place than it usually 
 occupies in general estimation : it is often reckoned to be merely 
 an ornament worthy only (or principally) of the weaker sex. I 
 would not grudge them any right to it, which is not exclusive. 
 But when we consider the power of music over the human mind, 
 (a power which is almost universal, is natural, or implanted by 
 the wisdom of the Infinite Mind, in all — the Savage no less than 
 the refined and polished natives of the woi'ld — a power which is 
 certainly very far greater than the power of any other of the fine 
 arts,) I should be almost in(;lined to exalt Music to the side of 
 Rhetoric, as one of the most powerful influences of the human 
 mind. There is scarcely any one who has not felt its power him- 
 self, more or less. Look at the enthusiasm raised by the never 
 wearying repetition of a national anthem — be it English, American, 
 Austrian, Russian, or Spanish. Look at the wonderful power of 
 such a strain as the well known Marseillaise hymn orMourir pour 
 la Patrie among the French, or the touching and inspiriting strains 
 of Scotland, Ireland and Wales. There are two men of the last 
 generation, whose names are cherished by all Englishmen, the 
 clue to Avhose greatness was a quality peculiar (in their position) 
 to those two and common to them both, stern sense of duty. I 
 mean, of course, Wellington and Nelson. An Englishman's heart 
 thrills as be thinks of tlie mounting of the flag to the mast nead, 
 which spoke forth the somewhat stern adruonition, "England 
 expects every man to do his duty." The name of Nelson is un- 
 known to nobody ; but there is another man whose name, now, is 
 nearly unknov>n to everybody : whose death, a few years ago, was 
 marked by circumstances of povei ty and indigence : who passed 
 from life unnoticed and almost unknown. Yet the fleets which 
 won Nelson's victoi-ies, were cheered from day to day, their sailors 
 were kept in a temper of happy contentedness, and their spirit of 
 valour and conquest was roused by the songs and music of Dibdin. 
 And if the command went home to the honest tar's heart to do 
 
24 
 
 his duty, that heart was prepared and inspirited to execute the 
 command by many such strains as this — 
 
 " Hearts of oak are our ships, 
 Jolly tars are our men. 
 
 We always are ready, 
 
 Steady boys, steady. 
 We'll fight and we'll conquer 
 
 Again and again.* 
 
 I have now pretty well discharged my promised task and, I 
 trust, succeeded in exhibiting to you the subject of Education in 
 some important lights. What has been said will have served, I 
 hope, both to afford you an hour's amusement, and to call serious 
 attention to some important and overlooked points, and also to 
 enter a sort of indirect protest against the slight, which I conceive 
 the age to be casting upon some of the principal departments of 
 the subject of Education. I would bid you farewell in the capacity 
 of lecturer, with the quotation fxom the speech of a celebrated 
 Athenian orator Lysias, with which Aristotle closes his very 
 powerful treatise on Khetorie. " I have spoken, you have heard ; 
 remember ye, and judge." 
 
 • I am not sure, by the way, that I am correct in ascribing this particular 
 Bong to Dibdin,