"lipiiiii""'""* I m imh I m Mm 'i )0d\%jvKm mm :.::m Southern Branch of the University of California Los Angeles Form L I LBV ■:58 OCT 2 8 im '^I "•^ *PR 2 1929 MAY 1 5 ^^^ MAI ^x 1930 ^^^ ^ 5 J933 mii ENGLISH PEDAGOGY FIRST SERIES EDUCATION ENGLISH LITERATURE I S7^3 RE PUB LIS he'd from Baniar(Ps American Joia-nal of Education SECOND EDITION SYRACUSE, N. Y. C. W. BARDEEN, PUBLISHER PREFACE. In the following chapters, prepared originally as articles for " The American Journal of Education,''^ the editor does not profess to give a connected or exhaustive view of English Pedagogy, but simply to contribute material for such a development of the subject, and at the same time to bring together a large amount of suggestive thoughts on the principles and methods of education from the suc- cessive publications of eminent teachers and writers of England, from Roger Ascham to Herbert Spencer. To give variety and interest to these articles, we have introduced the portraitures of the school and the teacher, which some of the most admired writers in the English Language have drawn in prose and verse, as reflecting the popular estimate in which education and its disciples have been and are still held, and as helping to per- petuate that estimate, both in England and iu this country. In a subsequent volume, we hope to make another contribution to the material for a History of Education in England, drawn from authors omitted in this collection. HENRY BARNARD, Editor of the American Journal of Education. Haetford, Connecticut. CONTENTS, Introduction, 9 to 20 What is EducationI Defined by Eminent English Authorities, 11 PART II. Treatises and Thoughts on Education, 20 to 400 Roger Ascham, 1515 to 1568, 21 to 76 Memoir, -•' ToxoPHiLus : or the Art of Scliootinge, 39 The Schoolmaster, 45 Annotations, ''•' Lord Burleigh ; Advice to his Son, 55 Lord Bacon, 1561 to 1626, 17 to 122 Memoir, '^7 Influence of his Method of Philosophy on Education and Schools, 79 Essay on Custom and Education, 79 Annotations. By Archbishop Whately, 97 Essay on Studies, l"-* Annotations. By Archbishop Whately, 105 Sir Henry Wotton, 1568 to 1639, 123 to 144 Memoir ^ -3 Apothegms on Education, I''" John Milton, 1608 to 1074 145 to 190 Memoir, ^'^5 Home, School and College Education. By D. Masson, 160 Tractate on Education, 1'8 Annotations, 1™ Early Promoters of Practical Science in England, 188 Charles Hoole— Object Teaching, 189 Abraham Cowley— Plan of Philosophical College 190 Samuel Hartlib, 1610 to 1664, 191 to 198 Memoir, 188 Plan of an Agricultural College, 1651, 191 Sir "William Petty, 1623 to 1666, 199 to 208 Memoir 189 Plan of an Industrial or Trade School, 199 John Locke, 1632 to 1704, 209 to 342 Memoir 209 Survey of Pedagogical System, 215 Thoughts on Education— Entire, 223 Herbert Spencer, 1805, 343 to 400 Thoughts on Education— Selected, 345 * Volume V. of Barnard's AMERICAN LIBRARY OF EDUCATION. PART III. Pack. The School and the Teacher in English Literature, 401 to 464 Thomas Fuller, 1608 to 1087, 403 to 408 The Good Schoolmaster, 403 Oliver Goldsmith, 1728 to 1784, 407 The Village Schoolmaster 507 William Shenstone, 1714 to 1763, 409 to 426 The Schoolmistress, 409 Annotations, 417 The Country Scliooi in France, Delille 400 The Usher, Lloyd 408 The Schoolmistress in Scotland, Giltillan, 417 '' " New England, Burton, 422 The Birch, a Poem, 423 The Rod, a Poem, 424 The Horn-Book, 425 Thomas Gray, 1716 to 1771, 427 to 432 Ode on the Distant Prospect of Eton College, 437 Alliance of Education and Government, 439 "William Cowper, 1731 to 1800, 433 to 454 Tirocinium; or a Review of Schools, 434 Discipline, 453 George Crabbe, 1707 to 1832, 455 to 463 Schools of the Boroitgr, 455 Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1774 to 1834, 464 LovK, Hope, and Patience in the Teacher 464 ^ English Pedagogy-Old akd New: or, Treatises and Thoughts on Education, the School, and the Teacher in English Literature. Second Series. Republished from Barnard's American Journal of Education. 628 pages. $3.00. 1873. CONTENTS. Page. Introduction i-xvi Contents and Index of First Series '* Art. I. The Endowed Grammar Schools and Secondary Education 1-176 Characteristic Features 1 Chronological Establishment •» Henry VI. and Eton College, Windsor 5 Merchant Taylors' School 9 Shrewsbury Free Grammar School U II. William of Wickiiam and St. Mary's College 13 Memoir and Educational Work 13 St. Mary's College — Constitution — Studies — Condition, &.c... 17 III. Dean Colet and St. Paul's School, London 49 Memoir — Erasmus — Lilly — Rytwise 49 St. Paul's School— Statutes— Studies— Condition 59 IV. General Survey of the Great Public Schools 81-117 V. Greek Language in Public Schools 118 VL Grammar Schools— Modern and Ancient 129-1 76 Dr. Arnold and Rugby School 97-129 Cardinal Volsey and Ipswich Grammar School— 1528. 155-173 VIL Pedagogy op the Old Masters 177-324 Richard Mulcaster ^ 1'^'^ Elementarie, or Writing op the English Tongue— Io.S] 178 Positions Respecting the Training or Children — LWl 180 John Brinsly— 1587-1G65 185 LUDUS LiTERARIUS, OR THE GRAMMAR ScHOOL — 10^7 185 Charles Hoole— 1618-1677 189 English Edition of Comenius's Orbis Pictt's 190 New Discovery of the Old Art of Teaching 193 The Petty School 193 Early English School Books 208 The Grammar School -25 The Ushers' Duty 225 The Master's Method '-C7 Scholastic Discipline 293 VIII. School Punishments — Historically Considered 325-336 The Strap— Ferule— Rod— Bircii-Taws 325 IX. Alexander Pope— Robert South— Sir Richard Steele. . . 337-346 Thoughts on Education 337 X. Oliver Goldsmith— 1731-1744 347-358 Essay on Education 347 XI. Samuel Johnson— 1708-1784 359-364 Plan of Studies and Detached Thoughts 359 XII. Samuel Parr— 1747-1825 365-368 Charity School Sbrmon 3C5 via. ENGLISH PEDAGOGY— SECOND SERIES. Page. XIII. ExGLisn Home Life and Education 3G9-400 The Evklyn Family 36D Mrs. Ehzaueth Sadler Walker — Mrs. Lucy Hutchinson 385 TiiE UoYLE Family — Lady Ranelaoh — Countess of Warwick.. . . 390 Maroaret Lucas — Duchess ok Newcastle 391 Anne Harrison — Lady Fanshawe 399 Daughters of Sir Anthony Cook — Lady Bacon — Lady Burleigh 403 XIV. Advice as to Education and Conduct for Public Life. . . 401-416 Sir Thomas Elyot 401 The Governor, or Training for the Common Weal 403 Sir Thomas Smith 415 Advertisements for Sons of Noblemen and Counselors 416 XV. Education, the School, and the Teacher — Continued 417-448 Daniel Defoe 417 Scheme of a University for London — An Academy of Music... 421 Illiteracy and Learning — The Scholar and the Pedant 423 Essay upon Projects — Military Academies and Exercises 419 Academy of English Philology — Academy for Women 420 Robert Southey 433 The Ho.me and Home Education of Doctor Daniel Dove 433 Richard Guy — The Schoolm.\ster of Ingleton 439 Dialogue of Johannes Rivisius Textor 445 XVI, Thomas Babington Macaulay 449-464 Academical Education in 1826 451 Objections to Oxford and Cambridge 451 Mathe.matics — Classical Studies — Omissions 451 London University — University Teaching at Athens 459 Elementary Education and the State 461 Competitive Examination for THE India Civil Service 461 XVII. English Pedagogy of 19th Century 405-544 Joseph Payne 465 The Science and Art of Education 465 The Kindergarten System of Frcebel 471 James Donaldson 481 The Science of Education 481 The Aim of Primary Schools 489 Henry Calderwood 497 On Teaching — Its Ends and Means 497 William Jolly 527 Plan of a University Chair of Pedagogy 527 Isaac Todhuxter 529 Conflict of Studies ^ 529 R. H. Quick 537 First Steps in Teaching a Foreign Language 537 XVIIL Survey of English Schools, Teachers and Teaching 545-604 Studies and Conduct — Index 545 Primary Schools and Elementary Instruction — Contents 553 English Pedagogy — First Series — Contents 561 National Education — Contents 577 1. Elementary, Secondary, and Superior Instruction 577 2. Professional and Special Instruction 581 (1.) Scientific Industry ; (2.) Teaching ; (.3) Law ; (4.) The- ology ; (5.) Medicine; (6.) Nursing ; '('O War 585 3. Supplementary Schools and Agencies 592 Index to English Pedagogy — Old and New — Second Series 593-604 PART I. INTRODUCTION. WHAT IS EDUCATION? WHAT IS EDUCATIOf^? It has been held that education, according to its etymology, means a drawing out of the faculties of the mind, not a mere accumulation of things in the memory ; and this is probably substantially true ; but yet the etymology of education is not, directly at least, educere, but educare. Again, education has been distinguished from information ; which may well be done, as the word information is now used ; but yet the word informare, at first, implied as fundamental an operation on the mind as educare; the forming and giving a defined form and scheme to a mere rude susceptibility of thought in the human mind. Again, we use the term learn^ both of the teacher and the scholar. (Thus we have. Psalm cxix. 66 and 71, Learn me true understanding and knowledge ; and I will learn thy laws.) But the German distinguishes these two aspects of the same fundamental notion by different forms — lehren and lernen ; and in a more exact stage of English, one of these is replaced by another word, to teach ; which, though it is not the representative of a word used in this sense in German, is connected with the German verb zeigen, to ^ show, and zeichen., a sign or mark ; and thus directs us to the French i,^^ and other daughters of the Latin language, in which the same notion is expressed by enseigner, insegnare, ensenar ; which come from the Latiu insignire, and are connected with signum. W. WnEWKLi.. \ \ Education is the process of making individual men participators in the ^ best attainments of the human mind in general : namely, in that which is most rational, true, beautiful, and good ... the several steps by which man is admitted, from the sphere of his narrow individuality, into the great sphere of humanity ; by which, from being merely a conscious ani- mal, he becomes conscious of rationality ; by which, from being merely a creature of sense, he becomes a creature of intellect ; by which, from be- ing merely a seeker of pleasurable sensations, he becomes an admirer of what is beautiful ; by which, from being merely the slave of impulse, he becomes a reverencer of what is right and good. W. Whewell. What is a man If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed ? — a beast, no more. Sure, He that made us with such large discourse. Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and godlike reason To rust in us unused. bnAKSPEARK. 12 APHOKISM3 ON EDUCATION. In the bringing up of youth, there are three special points — truth of religion, honesty of livings and right order in learning. In which three ways, I pray God my poor children may walk. AscnAM. Preface to Schoolmaster. Many examples may be put of the force of custom, both upon mind and body ; therefore, since custom is the principal magistrate of man's life, let men by all means endeavor to obtain good customs. Certainly, custom is most perfect when it beginneth in young years; this we call education, which is, in effect, but an early custom. So we see in lan- guages, the tone is more pliant to all expressions and sounds, the joints are more supple to all feats of activity and motions in youth than after- wards; for it is true, the late learners can not so well take up the ply, except it be in some minds that have not suffered themselves to fix, but have kept themselves open and prepared to receive continual amend- ment, which is exceeding rare : but the force of custom, copulate and conjoined, and collegiate, is far greater ; for there example teacheth, com- pany comforteth, emulation quickeneth, glory raiseth ; so as in such places the force of custom is in his exaltation. Lord Bacon. Essays. Custom and Education. I call a complete and generous education that which fits a man to per- form justly, skillfully, and magnanimously all the offices, both private and public, of peace and war . . . inflamed with a study of learning, and the admiration of virtue ; stirred up with high hopes of living to be bravo men, and worthy patriots, dear to God, and famous to all ages. JOUN MiLTOS. The end of learning is to repair the ruins of our first parents, by regain- ing to know God aright, and out of that knowledge to love him, to imitate him, to be like him, as we may the nearest, by possessing our souls of true virtue, which being united to the heavenly grace of faith, makes up the highest perfection. John Milton. First, there must precede a way how to discern the natural inclina- tions and capacities of children. Secondly, next must ensue the culture and furnishmcnt of the mind. Thirdly, the molding of behavior and decent forms. Fourthly, the tempering of affections. Fifthly, the quick- ening and exciting of observations and practical judgment. Sixthly, and the last in order, but the principal in value, being that which must knit and consolidate all the rest, is the timely instilling of conscientious prin- ciples and seeds of religion. Sm Henry Walton. How great soever a genius may be, and how much soever he may ac- quire new light and heat, as he proceeds in his rapid course, certain it is, that he will never shine in his full luster, nor shed the full influence he IS capable of, unless to his own experience he adds of other men and other ages. Bolingbroke. WHAT IS EDUCATION 1 13 We are born under a law : it is our wisdom to find it out, and our safety to comply with it Dr. Whichcote. Since the time that God did first proclaim the edicts of his law upon the world, heaven and earth have hearkened unto his voice, and their labor hath been to do his will. " He made a law for the rain ;" he gave his " decree unto the sea, that the waters should not pass his command- ment." Now, if nature should intermit her course, and leave altogether, though it were for a while, the observation of her own laws, if these principal and mother elements of the world, whereof all things in this lower world are made, should lose the qualities which they now have ; if the frame of that heavenly arch erected over our heads, should loosen and dissolve itself; if celestial spheres should forget their wonted mo- tions, and by irregular volubility turn themselves any way as it may happen ; if the prince of the lights of heaven, which now, as a giant, doth run his unwearied course, should, as it were, through a languishing faintness, begin to stand, and to rest himself; if the moon should wander from her beaten way, the times and seasons of the year blend themselves by disordered and confused mixture, the winds breathe out their last gasp, the clouds yield no rain, the earth be defeated of her heavenly in- fluence, the fruits of the earth pine away, as children at the withered breasts of their mother no longer able to yield them relief; what would become of man himself, whom these things do now all serve ? See we not plainly, that obedience of creatures unto the law of nature is the stay of the whole world. Of law there can be no less acknowledged, than that her seat is the bo- som of God, her voice the harmony of the world ; all things in heaven and earth do her homage, the very least as feeling her care, and the greatest as not '^exempted from her power ; both angels, and men, and creatures of what condition soever, though each in different sort and man- ner, yet all with uniform consent, admiring her as the mother of their peace and joy. Eiciiard Hooker. The knowledge of Languages, Sciences, Histories, &c., is not innate to us ; it doth not of itself spring in our minds ; it is not any ways incident by chance, or infused by grace (except rarely by miracle) ; common ob- servation doth not produce it ; it can not be purchased at any rate, except by that for which, it was said of old, the gods sell all things, that is, for pains ; without which the best wit and the greatest capacity may not ren- der a man learned, as the best soil will not yield good fruit or grain, if they be not planted nor sown therein. Br. Barrow. Powers act but weakly and irregularly till thcj' are hightcncd and perfected by their habits. T>n. Soutu, As this life is a preparation for eternity, so is education a preparation for this life ; and that education alone is valuable which answers these great primary objects. JBisuop Short. 14 APHORtSMS ON EDUCATION. Forasmuch as all knowledge bcginneth fioin experience, therefore also new experience is the beginning of new knowledge, and the increase of experience the beginning of the increase of knowledge Whatsoever, therefore, happeneth new to a man, giveth him matter of hope of know- ing somewhat that he knew not before. And this hope and expectation of future knowledge from any thing that happeneth new and strange, is that passion which we commonly call admiration ; and the same consid- ered as appetite, is called curiosity ; which is appetite of knowledge. * * And from this beginning is derived all philosophy, as astronomy from the admiration of the course of heavefi; natural philosophy from the strange effects of the elements and other bodies. And from the degrees of curiosity, proceed also the degrees of knowledge among men. 1 Thomas Hobbes. A sound mind in a sound body, is a short but full description of a happy state in this world. Of all the men we meet with, nine parts often are what they are, good or evil, useful or not, by their education. It is that which makes the great difference in mankind. The little, or almost insensible, impres- sions on our tender infancies, have very important and lasting conse- quences : and there it is, 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 little direction, given them at first, in the source, they receive different tendencies, and arrive at least at very remote and distant places. That which every gentleman, that takes any care of his education, de- sires for his son, is contained in these four things : Virtue, Wisdom, Good-breeding and Learning. I place virtue as thu first and most neces- sary of these endowments that belong to a man or a gentleman, as abso- lutely 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 world. It is virtue, direct virtue, which is the head and valuable part to be aimed at in education. All other considerations and accomplishments should give way, and be postponed, to this. This is the solid and sub- stantial good, which tutors should not only read lectures, and talk of; but the labor and art of education should furnish the mind with, and fasten there, and never cease till the young man had a true relish of it, and placed his strength, his glory, and his pleasure in it. As the strength of the body lies chiefly in being able to endure hard- ships, so al.so does that of the mind. And the great principle and foun- dation of all virtue and worth lies in this, that a man is able to deny himself his own desires, cross his own inclinations, and purely follow what reason directs as best, though the appetite lean the other way. John Locke. ThougJits 07i Education. Tis education forms the common mind, Just as the twig is bent the tree is inclined. Pope. WHAT IS EDUCATION 1 15 Dr, Johnson and I [Boswell] took a sculler at the Temple Stairs, and set out for Greenwich. I asked hira if he really thought a knowledge of the Greek and Latin languages an essential requisite to a good education. Johnson. — "Most certainly, sir; for those who know them have a very great advantage over those M'ho do not Nay, sir, it is wonderful what a difference learning makes upon people, even in the common intercourse of life, which does not appear to be much connected with it." And yet, said I, people go through the world very well, and carry on the business of life to good advantage without learning. Johnson. — " Why, sir, that may be true in cases where learning can not possibly be of any use ; for instance, this boy rows us as well without learning as if he could sing the song of Orpheus to the Argonauts, who were the first sailors." He then called to the boy, " What would you give my lad to know about the Argonauts?" "Sir," said the boy, "I would give what I have." Johnson was much pleased with his answer, and we gave him a double fare. Dr. Johnson then turning to me, " Sir," said he " a desire of knowledge is the natural feeling of mankind ; and every human being, whose mind is not debauched, will be willing to give all that he has to get knowledge." Dr. Johnson. BoswelVs Life. If you love learning you will have learning. Greek Proverb. Whether we provide for action or conversation, whether we wish to be useful or pleasing, the first requisite is the religious and moral knowl- edge of right and wrong ; the next is an acquaintance with the history of mankind, and with these examples which may be said to embody truth, and prove by events the reasonableness of opinions. Those authors, therefore, are to be read at school, that supply most axioms or prudence, most principles of moral truth and most materials for conversation ; and these purposes are best served by poets, orators, and historians. Dr. Johnson. Life of Milton. Education in the most extensive sense of the word, may comprehend every preparation that is made in our youth for the sequel of our lives ; and in this sense I use it. Some such preparation is necessary for all conditions, because without it they must be miserable, and probably will be vicious, when they grow up, either from the want of the means of sub- sistence, or from want of rational and inoffensive occupation. In civil- ized life, every thing is effected by art and skill. Whence, a person who is provided with neither (and neither can be acquired without exercise and instruction) will be useless ; and he that is useless, will generally be at the same time mischievous to the community. So that to send an un- educated child into the world, is injurious to the rest of mankind : it is little better than to turn out a mad dog or a wild beast into the streets. Pa LEY. The primary principle of education is the determination of the pupil to self-activity — the doing nothing for him which he is able to do for himself. Sir William Hamilton. Lecture on Metaphysics. 16 APHORISMS ON EDUCATION. I consider a human soul without education like marble in the quarry, which shows none of its inherent beauties, until the skill of the polisher fetches out the colors, makes the surface shine, and discovers every orna- mental cloud, spot, and vein, that runs through the body of it. Education, after the same manner, when it works upon a noble mind, draws out to view every latent virtue and perfection, which, without such helps, are never able to make their appearance. If my reader will give me leave to change the allusion so soon upon him, I shall make use of the same instance to illustrate the force of edu- cation, which Aristotle has brought to explain his doctrine of substantial forms, when he tells us that a statue lies hid in a block of marble ; and that the art of the statuary only clears away superfluous matter, and re- moves the rubbish. The figure is in the stone, and the sculptor only finds it. What sculpture is to the block of marble, education is to a hu- man soul. The philosopher, the saint or the hero, the wise, the good or the great man, very often lie hid and concealed in a plebeian, which a proper education might have disinterred, and have brought to light * * Those who have had the advantages of a more liberal education, rise above one another by several different degrees of perfection. For to return to our statue in the block of marble, we see it sometimes only begun to be chipped, sometimes rough hewn, and but just sketched into a human figure ; sometimes we see the man appearing distinctly in all his limbs and features ; sometimes we find the figure wrought up to great elegancy, but seldom meet with any to which the hand of a Phidias or a Praxiletes could not give several nice touches and finishings. Joseph Addison. Nothing is more absurd than the common notion of instruction ; as if science were to be poured into the mind hke water into a cistern, that passively waits to receive all that comes. The growth of knowledge re- sembles the growth of fruit: however external causes may in some degree cooperate, it is the internal vigor and virtue of the tree that must ripen the juices to their just maturity. James Harris. Hermes. Human creatures, from the constitution of their nature, and the cir- cumstances in which they are placed, can not but acquire habits during their childhood, by the impressions which are given them and their own customary actions ; and long before they arrive at mature age these habits form a general settled character. And the observation of the text — " Train up a child in the way he should go ; and when he is old he will not depart from it " — that the most early habits are generally the most lasting, is likewise every one's observation. Bishop Butler. Organic structure, temperament, things affecting the senses or bodily functions, are as closely linked with a right play of the faculties, as the material and condition of an instrument of music with that wonderful result called melody. W. B. Clulow. WHAT IS EDUCATIOM 17 The general principles of education are the same, or nearly tlie same in all ages, and at all times. They are fixed unalterably in the natural and moral constitution of man. They are to be found in our affections and passions, some of which must be controlled and some cherished in every state of manners, and under every foim of society. From the right apprehensions of them, we discover " the way in which a child ouglit to go," and by the right use of them " when he is young," we shall qualify him, " when old," for not departing from it. Tn promoting the happiness of our species, n\uch is effected bj' aulhor- it}'^ of legal restraint, and much by public insti'uction from the pulpit. 15ut education, in its large and proper sense, [of not merely the inculca- tion of moral precepts and religious doctrine, but a sj'stem of discipline applied to the hearts and lives of young persons,] may boast even of su- perior usefulness. It comes home directly to " the bosoms and business of" young persons, it rectifies eveiy principle and controls ever3'^ action ; it prevents their attention from being relaxed In'^ amusement, dissipated by levit}', or overwhelmed by vice ; it preserves them from falling a prey to the wicked examples of the world when they are in company, and from becoming slaves to their own turbulent appetites when they are in soli- tude. It is not occasional or desultory in its operation ; on the contrary, it heaps "line upon line, and pi'ecept upon precept;" it binds the com- mands of religion, for a "sign upon the hands of young men, and front- lets between their eyes;" it is calculated to purif)^ their desires and to regulate their conduct, when they " sit in the house, and w^hen they walk in the wa}- ;" when the}' " lie down in peace to take their rest," and when they "rise up" to "go forth to their labor." Dr. Parr. What is the education of the generality of the world ? Reading a par- cel of books? No. Restraint of discipline, einulation, examples of virtue and justice, form the education of the world. Edmund Burke. The heart of a nation comes b)' priests, by law3'ers, by philosophers, by schools, by education, by the nurse's care, the mother's anxiety, the father's severe brow. It comes by letters, by silence, by every art, by sculpture, painting, and poetry ; by the song on war, on peace, on do- mestic virtue, on a beloved and magnanimous king; by the Iliad, by the Odyssey, by tragedy, by comedy. It comes by sympathy, by love, by the marriage union, by friendship, generosity, meekness, temperance ; by virtue and example of virtue. It comes by sentiments of chivalry, by romance, by music, by decorations and magnificence of buildings ; by the culture of tlie body, by comfortable clothing, by fashions in dress, by luxury and commerce. It comes by the severity, the melancholy, the benignity of countenance ; by rules of politeness, ceremonies, formalities, solemnities. It comes by rights attendant on law, by religion, by the oath of office, by the venerable assembly, by the judge's procession and trumpets, by the disgrace and punishment of crimes, by public fasts, public prayer, by meditation, by the Bible, by the consecration of churches, by the sacred festival, by the cathedral's gloom and choir. Prof. Ramsden 18 AIMIORISMS ON EDUCATION. Education majbo coinpaieJ to the grafting of a tree. Every gaidcner knows that the younger the wilding-stock that i-s to be grafted is, the easier and tlic more etfectual is the operation, because, tlien, one scion put on just above the root, will become the main stem of the tree, and all the branches it puts forth will be of the right sort. When, on the other hand, a tree is to be grafted at a considerable age, (which may be very successfully done,) you have to pnt on twenty or thirty grafts on the several branches ; and afterwards you will have to be watching, from time to time, for the wilding shoots which the stock will be putting forth, and pruning them off. And even so, one whose character is to be re- formed at mature age, will find it necessary not merely to implant a right principle once for all, but also to bestow a distinct attention on the cor- lection of this, that, and the other bad habit. But it must not be forgotten that education resembles the gi-afting of a tree in this point, also, that there must be some affinity between the stock and the graft, though a very important practical difference may exist ; for example, between a worthless crab and a fine apple. Even so, the new nature, as it may be called, superinduced b}"^ education, must always retain some relation to the original one, though differing in most impor- tant points. You can not, by any kind of artificial training, make any tiling of any one, and obliterate all trace of the natural character. Those who hold that this is possible, and attempt to eflect it, resemble Virgil, who (whether in ignorance or, as some think, by way of poetical license) talks of grafting an oak on an elm : glandesque sues frerjere siih ulmis. AnciiBisiiop Whatelv. Annotations on Bacon''s Essays. What a man has learnt is of importance, but what he is, what he can do, what he will become, are more significant things. Finally, it may be remarked, that to make education a great work, we must have the edu- cators great; that book learning is mainly good, as it gives us a chance of coming into the company of greater and better minds than the average of men around us; and that individual greatness and goodness are the things to be aimed at, rather than the successful cultivation of those tal- ents which go to form some eminent membership of society. Each man is £t drama in himself: has to play all the parts in it; is to be king and rebel, successful and vanquished, free and slave ; and needs a bringing up fit for the universal creature that he is. A. Helps. Friends in Council. Education is the placing of the growing human creature in such cir- cumstances of direction and restraint, as shall make the most of him, or enable him to make the most of himself John Gkote. A liberal education is an education in which the individual is cultiva- ted, not as an instrument towards some ulterior end, but as an end unto himself alone ; in other words, an education in which his absolute per- fection as a man, and not merely his relative dexterity as a professional man, is the scope immediately in view. Snt William Hamilton. WHAT IS EDUCATION 1 1 9 Education does not commence with the alphabet; it begins with a mother's look, with a father's nod of approbation, or sign of reproof; with a sister's gentle pressure of the hand ; a brother's jioble act of forbear- ance ; with handful of flowers in green dells, or hills, and daisy meadows ; ■with birdsnest admired, but not touched ; with creeping ants and almost imperceptible emmets; with humming bees, and glass beehives; with pleasant walks in shady lands, and with thoughts devoted, in sweet and kindly tones and words, to nature, to beauty, to acts of benevolence, to deeds of virtue, and to the source of all good — to God himself Dk. Ramsdex. He [man] would look round upon the woi'ld without, and the thought would arise in his mind — " W/te7-e am I ?" He would contemplate liim- self, his form so curious, his feelings so strange and various ; he would ask — " What Sim I?" Then reflection would begin to stir within him, and reviewing the world without and within, and pondering upon the mystery of existence, he would exclaim — " Why am I ?" And the re- plies to these three questions compose the entire circle of human knowl edge, developed in its natural order. W. Cox. The Advocate, his Training. I believe, that what it is most honorable to know, it is also most profit- able to learn ; and that the science which it is the highest power to pos- sess, it is also the best exercise to accjuire. And if this be so, the question as to what should be the material of education, becomes singularly simplified. It might be matter of dispute what processes have the greatest effect in developing the intellect ; but it can hardl^v be disputed what facts it is most advisable that a man enter- ing into life should accurately know. I believe, in brief, that he ought to know three things : First. Where he is. Secondly. Where he is going. Thirdly. What he had best do under those circumstances. First. Where he is. — That is to say. what sort of a world he lias got into ; how large it is ; Mhat kind of creatures live in it, and how ; what it is m:ide of, and what may be made of it. Secondlj^ Where he is going. — That is to saj^, what chances or re- ports there are of any other world besides this; what seems to be the nature of that other world ; and whether, for information respecting it, he had better consult the Bible, Koran, or Council of Trent. Thirdly. What he liad best do under those circumstances. — That is to say, what kind of faculties he possesses ; what are the present state and wants of mankind ; what is his place in society ; and what are the readiest means in his power of attaining happiness and diffusing it. The man who knows these things, and who has had his will so subdued in the learning them, that he is ready to do what he knows he ought, I should call educated ; and the man who knows them not, uneducated, though he could talk all the tongues of Babel. Ruskin. 20 APHORISMS ON EDUCATION. Education docs not mean merely reading and writing, nor any degree, however considerable, of mere intellectual instruction. It is, in its larg- est sense, a process which extends from the commencement to the ter- mination of existence. A child comes into the world, and at once his education begins. Often at his birth the seeds of disease or deformity are sown in his constitution — and while he hangs at his mother's breast, he is imbibing impressions which will remain with him through life. During the first period of infancy, the physical frame expands and strengthens ; but its delicate structure is influenced for good or evil by all surrounding circumstances — cleanliness, light, air, food, warmth. By and by, the young being within shows itself more. The senses be- come quicker. The desires and affections assume a more definite shape. Every object which gives a sensation ; every desire gratified or denied ; ever J'' act, word, or look of affection or of unkindness, has its elFect, sometimes slight and imperceptible, sometimes obvious and permanent, in building up the human being ; or, rather, in determining the direction in which it will shoot up and unfold itself. Through the diflerent states of the infant, the child, the boy, the youth, the man, the development of his physical, intellectual, and moral nature goes on, the various circum- stances of his condition incessantly acting upon him — the healthfulness or unhealthfulness of the air he breathes ; the kind, and the sufficiency of his food and clothing; the degree in which his physical powers are exerted ; the freedom with which his senses are allowed or encouraged to exercise themselves upon external objects ; the extent to which his faculties of remembering, comparing, reasoning, are tasked ; the sounds and sights of home ; the moral example of parents ; the discipline of school ; the nature and degree of his studies, rewards and punishments ; the personal qualities of his companions ; the opinions and practices of the society, juvenile and advanced, in which he moves; and the charac- ter of the public institutions under which he lives. The successive oper- ation of all these circumstances upon a human being from earliest childhood, constitutes his education; — an education which docs not ter- minate with the arrival of manhood, but continues through life, — which is itself, upon the concurrent testimony of revelation and reason, a state of probation or education for a subsequent and more glorious existence. John Lalok. Prize Easay. The appropriate and attainable ends of a good education arc the posses- sion of gentle and kindly sympathies; the sense of self-respect and of the respect of fellow-men ; the free exercises of the intellectual faculties; the gratification of a curiosity that " grows by what it feeds on," and yet finds food forever ; the power of regulating the habits and the business of life, so as to extract the greatest possible portion of comfort out of small means ; the refining and tranquilizing enjo)-ment of the beautiful in nature and art, and the kindred perception of the beauty and nobility of virtue ; the strengthening consciousness of duty fulfilled, and, to crown all, " the peace which passeth all understanding." Sarah Austiv, PART II. TREATISES AND THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. BIOGRAPHY OF ROGER ASCHAM. We shall commence in our next number tlie publicarion of Roger Ascbam's great work — " The Schoolmaster ;" one of the earli- est and most valuable contributions to the educational literature of our hmguage. As an appropriate introduction, we give a sketch of the author's life drawn mainly from Hartley Coleridge's "Northern Wor- thies," and the " Biographical Dictionary^'' commenced by the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. Roger Asciiam was the third son of John and Margaret Ascham, and was born in the year 1515, at Kirby Wiske, near Northallerton in Yorkshire, where his father resided as steward to the noble family of Scroope. His parents, who were highly esteemed in their station, after living together for forty-seven years, both died on the same day and nearly at the same hour. Their son Roger displayed fi-om his childhood a taste for learning, and was received into the family of Sir Anthony Wingfield, who caused him to be educated with his own sons, under the care of their tutor, Mr. Robert Bond ;* and in the year 1530, placed him at St. John's College, Cambridge, then the most Hourishingf in the University. Ascham applied himself particularly to the study of Greek, to which a great impulse had re- cently been given by the dispersion of the learned Greeks throughout Europe, in consequence of the taking of Constantinople. He made great proficiency in Greek as well as Latin, and he read Greek lec- tures, while yet a youth, to students still younger than himself He took the degree of A. F>. in February, 1534, and on the 23d of the next month was elected;]; fellow of his college, through the influence of * " To conclude, let lliis, amongst other motives, make schoolmasters careful \x\ their jilace, that the eminences of their scholars have commended their schoolmasters to posterity, \\ lich otherwise in obscurity had been altogether forgotten. Who had ever heard of R. Boml in I^aMcashire, but for the breeding of learned Roijer Ascham, his scholar?" Fuller's llu'y and Profane Stales — The Good Schoohnaster. 1 Dr. Grant in his " Oralio dcvila et obilu Rogeri Ascham" thus compliments Sir John's College : — '-Yea, surely, in that one college, which at that season, for number of most Itarntd doctors, for multitude of erudite philosophers, for abundance of elegant orators, all in tlitir kind superlative, might rival or outvie all mansions of literature on earth, were exceedingly many men, most excellent in all politer letters, and in knowledge of languages." t " Dr. Nicholas Medcalf " — writes Ascham later in life, " was a man meanly learned him- self, but not meanly affectioned to set forth learning in others. lie was partial to none, hut indifferent to all ; a master of the whole, a father to every one in that college. There was none so poor, if he had either will to goodness, or wit to learning, that could lack being ihtre, 24 ROGER ASCIIAM. the master. Dr. Medcalf, himself a northern man, who privately exer- ted himself in Ascham's favor, notwithstanding he had exhibited a leaning toward the new doctrines of protestantism, and had even been exposed to public censure for speaking against the pope. He took the degree of A. M. in 1536, at the age of twenty-one, and began to take pupils, in whose instiiiction he was very successful. He also read Greek publicly in the university, and privately in his own college. In 1544, on the resignation of Sir John Cheke, he was chosen University Orator,* an office which he filled with general approbation. In the following year, (1545,) appeared his "Toxophilus, or, the Schole of Shootinge," a treatise on archery, which he composed with a double view ; in the first place, to exhibit a specimen of English prose composition in a purer taste than then prevailed, and in the second, to attract the attention of King Henry VHT., then on the point of setting out on his Boulogne expedition, and to obtain the means of visiting Italy, which he much desired. He succeeded per- fectly in the first object, and partially in the second ; for the king was so well pleased, that he settled on the author a pension of 10/. per annum — at that time a considerable sum, especially to a poor scholar. Ascham about this time ae(pru'ed other great patrons. Ue enjoyed a pension from Archbishop Lee, acted for some time as tutor to Henry and Charles Brandon, the two sons of the Duchess of Suflfolk, and attracted the friendly regaids of the Chancellor Wriothesly, and other eminent men. In 1548, on occasion of the death of AVilliam Grindal, Avho had been his pupil at Cambridge, Ascham was appointed instructor in the learned languages to the Lady Elizabeth, afterwards Queen, a situation which he filled for some time with great credit, to himself and satis- faction to his pupil. Of Ascham's own attachments, as well as methods of study and teaching, we have the best record in his letters and the Schoolmaster. He held fast the truth, that it is only by its own free agency that the intellect can either be enriched or invigorated ; — that true knowledge is an act, a continuous immanent act, and at the same time an opera- lion of the reflective faculty on its own oVjjects. How he applied or should depart thence for any need. * * This good man's goodness shall never be out of my remembrance all the days of my life. For ne.xt to God's Providence, surely that day was, by that !;ood father's mean.s, rfi>s tjalalis iinlo me for the whole foundation of Ihe poor learning I have, and of all furthermore lliat hillif-rto elsewhere 1 have obtained." The hu- man heart is capable of no more generous feeling than the genuine gratitude of a scholar to liis instructor. It is twice blessed ; honorable alike to the youth and to the elder ; and nev- er can e.xisl when it ia not ju^t. * Public Orator is Spokesman on public occasions, and corresponding Secretary of the University. It is an office of great honor and high precedency. ROGER ASCHAM. 25 tliis idea to the purposes of education, bis " Schoolmaster," written in the maturity of his powers, and out of the fullness of his experi- ence, sufficiently shows. But the idea, though undeveloped, wrought in him from his earliest jouth ; his favorite maxim was Docendo disces. The aflFectiouate wish and strenuous effort to impart knowledge is the best possible condition for receiving it. The necessity of being intel- ligible to others brings with it an obligation to understand ourselves ; to find words apt to our ideas, and ideas commensurate to our words ; to seek out just analogies and happy illustrations. But, above all, by teaching, or more properly by reciprocal intercommunication of in- struction, we gain a practical acquaintance with the universal laws of thought, and with the process of perception, abstracted from the ac- tions of the individual constitution : for it is only by a sympathetic intercourse with other minds that we gain any true knowledge of our own. Of course we speak of free and fi'iendly teaching, not of des- potic dictation, than which there is no habit more likely to pei'petu- ate presumptuous ignorance. The study of the Greek language was at that time new in western Europe, and in England a mere novelty. To Ascham it was as " the trouble of a new delight ;" every lesson which he gained he was eager to impart; he taught Greek, he wrote Greek, he talked Greek, no wonder if he dreamed in Greek. There might be a little vanity in this : but whatever vanity he possessed, (and he certainly loved to talk of himself,) was so tempered by modesty, and blended with such candor, such glad acknowledgment of other's merits, that the stern- est judgments could hardly call it a foible. By this industrious com- munication and daily practice, he acquired, at a very early period, such a command of the Greek vocabulary, and so vernacular a turn of phrase, that his senior, Robert Pember, to whom he had addressed an epistle in that tongue, assures him that his letter might have been written at Athens. But the critical nicety of modern scholarship was then unknown, and it was very unlikely that Pember himself felt or understood that perfect atticism upon which he compliments his young friend. Pember's epistle of course is in Latin, interspersed with Greek, and curious enough to be worthy of translation. It is to this effect : — " Dearly beloved Roger, — I render thee thanks for thy Greek epistle, which might seem to have been indited at ancient Athens, so exactly hast thou attained the propriety of Greek phrase : of exquisite penmanship it is, as are all thine. Use diligence, that thou maifst he 'perfect, not according to the stoical, but to lyrical per- fection, that thou maysH touch the harj) aright. Continue to read Greek with the boys, for thou wilt profit more by one little fable of 26 ROGER ASCUAM. JEsop, read and explained by thyself, than if thou shouldst hear the whole Iliad expounded in Latin by the learnedest man now livinfr. Peruse Diny, in which author is the greatest knowledge of things, along with the most florid opulence of Latin speech."* In this letter we may notice, first, the testimonial to the beauty of Ascham's penmanship,! which proved a principal means of his advance- ment : secondly, a proof that he was actually engaged in the tuition of hoys : thirdly, that in his plans, both for his own improvement, and for that of his pupils, he diverged from the common routine of lectures : fourthly, that his friend, well discerning the bent and pur- pose of his genius, urged him to proceed with those humane and ele- gant studies, on which some austercr judgments looked with an evil eye. From one passage of this epistle, a biographer has observed that " Mr. Robert Pember advised him to learn instrumental music, which would prove a very agreeable entertainment to him after his severer studies, and was easy to be attained by him, as he was already a great master of vocal music." It is certainly very possible, that Pember may have given him such advice, but it is nevertheless cer- tain, that he does not give it in the letter in question. There is no allusion at recreation at all. The whole drift of the writer is an ex- hortation to perseverance in a course of study already commenced. J * I wish young scholars paid attention to this recommendation. Pliny is never read at school, and very seldom at collese ; yet I have the high authority of Southey for saying, that he is the most instructive of all the Roman authors. The extent of his knowledge is almost marvelous ; his veracity, where he speaks from personal observation, is daily approved by modern experiment and discovery ; and even his credulity adds to his value, by disclosing more fully the actual state of physical science in his age and country. It is surely quite as interesting to know what properties the passions or the imaginations of men liave ascribed to a plant or animal, as to count its stamina and petals, or ascertain the number of its verte- brse. Both are very useful. But the highest recommtudation of I'liny is his moral wisdom, his almost Christian piety, his intelligent humanity. Of all the Romans he was the least of a Roman, and approximated nearest to the pure idea of man. TThe importance of good penmanship is still appreciated by the English government. In ]s54. Viscount Palmerston. then Hume Secretary, caused a letter to be addressed to the Sec- retary of the Privy Council on Education, in which he submits " for their Lordships consid- eration that one great fault in the system of instruction in the schools of the country lies in the want of proper teaching in the art of writing The great bulk of (he middle and lower orders write hands too small and indistinct, and do not form their letters : or they sometimes form them by alternate broad and fine strokes, wliich makes the words difficult to read. The hand writing which was generally practised in the early part and middle of the last century was far better than that now in common use ; and Lord Palmerston would suggest that it would be very desirable that tlie attention of schoolmasters should be directed to this subject, and that their pupils should be taught rather to imitate broad prinlmg than fine copperplate engraving." JThe words of the original are — "Da operam, ut sisperfectus, non Sloicus, dWa AvpiAroj, ut belle pulses lyram." No doubt in the same sense that ?ocrates w.-is commanded by the Oracle to make music ; or, to appeal to a far higher authority, as David "shewed a dark speech on the harp," 1. e. opened and exalted the understanding by the aid of tlie imagina- lion S. T. Coleridge remarks on this note of his son Hartley,— neither has Hartley caught the true meaning of the words aWa Avpixd;, as opposed to Sloicus. The Stoicns— the Bovereignty of the highest by the sacrifice of tlie inferior; I.yricus, the whole as a beautiful one, by harmonious subordination. ROGER ASCHAM. 27 So far was Ascliam from devoting himself to music with that in- tensity which Pember has been supposed to recommend, that he ap- pears to have had no manner of taste, but rather a platonic antipa- thy for it, even as an amusement. Nor would he be well pleased with the present course of education in his University, if we judge by the sentiments which he expresses in his Schoolmaster, and Toxophilus. " Some wits, moderate enough by nature, be many times marred by over much study and use of some sciences, namely, music, arith- metic, and geometry. These sciences, as they sharpen men's wits over much, so they charge men's manners over sore, if they be not moderately mingled, and wisely applied to some good use of hfe. Mark all mathematical heads, which be wholly and only bent to those sciences, how solitary they be themselves, how unapt to serve in the world. This is not only known by common experience, but uttered long before by wise men's judgment and sentence. Galen saith, much music marreth men's manners, and Plato hath a notable place of the same thing, and excellently translated by Tully himself. Of this matter I wrote once more at large, twenty years ago, in my book of shooting." The passage of the Toxophilus referred to, is as fol- lows : — " Whatsoever ye judge, this I am sure, that lutes, harps, bar- bitons, sambukes, and other instruments, every one which standeth by quick and fine fingering, be condemned of Aristotle, as not to be brought in and used among them, which study for learning and vir- tue. Much music marreth men's manners, saith Galen. Although some men will say that it doth not so, but rather recreateth and raa- keth quick a man's mind, yet raethiiiks, by reason it doth, as honey doth to a man's stomach, which at the first receiveth it well ; but af- terwards it maketh it unfit to abide any strong nourishing meat, or else any wholesome sharp and quick drink; and, even so in a man- ner, these instruments make a man's wit so soft and smooth, so ten- der and queasy, that they be less able to brook strong and rough study. Wits be not sharpened, but rather made blunt, with such soft sweetness, even as good edges be blunted, which men whet upon soft chalk-stones." These opinions require considerable limitation. Music is so high a delight to such as are really ca])able of enjoying it, that there is some danger of its encroaching too much upon the student's time, and it is frequently a passport to very undesirable company ; but if these evils be avoided, its effects on the mind are extremely salutary and refresh- ing. Nothing calms the spirit more sweetly than sad music ; nothing quickens cogitation like a lively air. But the truth was, that honest Roger had no ear, and like a true Englishman of an age when Kings 28 ROGER ASCIIAM. were wrestlers, and queens not only presided at tournaments, but " rained influence" upon bear baitings, delighted rather in muscular exertion than in fine fingering. That the practice of music no way impaiis the faculty of severe thought, is sufficiently evinced by the fact that Milton was a skillful musician,* and that most of the German philosophers of the present day, who in mental industry excel the whole world, j)lay on some instrument. Mathematical pursuits are so far from disqualifying men for business, that of all others they are most necessary to such as are intended for public life. Be it as it may, Avith music and mathematics, it is certain that Ascham did teach Greek and Latin with eminent success. It must be an affair of delicate management to teach Greek to a princess ; but Ascham had a love and a genius for teaching, and Eliza- beth possessed in an extraordinary degree the facility of her sex in learning languages. She had then little or no expectation of reigning. Her situation was one of peculiar difficulty : she needed a spirit at once firm and yielding ; and displayed in earliest youth a circum- spection and self-control in Avhicli her latter years were deficient. Ascham found her a most agreeable pupil ; and the diligence, docility, modest affection, and self-respective deference of the royal maiden, en- deared an office which the shy scholar had not undertaken without fears and misgivings. Ilis epistles to his friends are full of the prin- cess' commendations and his own satisfaction ; and in his later works he refers to this part of his life with honest pride. In this happy strain he writes to John .Stui-mius, of Strasburg: — "If you wish to know how I am thriving at Court, you may assure yourself that I had never more blessed leisure in my college than now in the palace. The Lady Elizabeth and I are studying together, in the original Greek, the crown orations of Demosthenes and ^schines. She reads her lessons to me, and at one glance so completely comprehends, not only the idiom of the language and the sense of the orator, but the exact bearings of the cause, and the public acts, manners, and usages of the Athenian people, that you would marvel to behold her." In like temper he told Aylmer, afterwaud Bishop of London, that he learned more of the Lady Elizabeth than she did of him. " I teach her words," said he, "and she teaches me things. I teach her the tongues to speak, and her modest and maidenly looks teach me works to do ; for I think she is the best disposed of any in Europe." In several of his Latin epistles, and also in his '' Schoolmaster," he explains and recom- mends his mode of instructing the princess with evident exultation at * Much music is Galen's phrase, and see the last lines of Milton's sonnet — He who of these delights can judge, and spare To interpose ihem oft, is not unwise. ROGER ASCHAM. 29 his success. It was the same method of double translation juirsued with such distinguished results in the tuition of the young sovereign, by Sir John Cheke, from whom Ascham adopted it : and, indeed, like many of the best discoveries, it seems so simple that we wonder how it ever could be missed, and so excellent, that we know not why it is so little practiced. It had, indeed, been suggested by the younger Pliny, in an epistle to Fuscus, and by Cicero, in his Dialogue de Ora- tore. "Pliny," saith Roger, "expresses many good ways for order in study, but beginneth with translation, and preferreth it to all the rest. But a better and nearer examjile herein may be our noble Queen Elizabeth, who never yet took Greek nor Latin grammar in her hand after the first declining of a noun and a verb ; but only by this double translating of Demosthenes and Isocrates daily without missing, every forenoon, and likewise some part of Tully every afternoon, for the space of a year or two, hath attained to such perfect understanding in both the tongues, and to such a i-eady utterance in the Latin, and that with such a judgment, as they be few in number in both Universities or elsewhere in England, that be in both tongues comparable to her Majesty." And so in an epistle to Sturmius : — " It is almost incredi- ble to how excellent an understanding both of Greek and Latin I my- self conducted our sacred Lady Elizabeth by this same double transla- tion, constantly and in brief time delivered in writing." In the same letter he insists upon the pupil making the translations with his or her own hand, proprio, non alieno stylo, whence it may be conclu- ded that Ehzabeth was her^wn amanuensis on these occasions. We may w'ell allow a teacher to be a little rapturous about the pro- ficiency of a lady, a queen, and his own pupil ; but after all due abate- ments, the testimony remains unshaken both to the talent of the learner, and the efficiency of the system of instruction. For two years the most perfect harmony subsisted between Eliza- beth and her preceptor. The intei'vals of study were occasionally re- lieved with chess, at which Ascham is said to have been an adopt. It is to be hoped that he had too much prudence and gallantry to beat the Lady oftener than was necessary_to convince her that he always played his best. True, the royal virgin was not then Queen, or even presumptive heir; but no wise man would take the conceit out of a chess-])layer, that stood witliin the hundredth degree of relationship to the throne. Elizabeth was not the only distinguished female whose classical studies were assisted by our author ; he taught Latin to Anne, Countess of Pembroke, to whom he addressed two letters in that language, still extant. The court of the young Edward was filled with lovers of learning, 30 ROGER ASCHAM. in whoso society and patronage Ascliam enjoyed himself fully, as Sir John Cheke his old friend, Lord Paget, Sir William Cecil, and the Chancellor Wriothesly, lie had a share in the education of the two Brandons, and he partook the favor of the youthful King, who honoi'- ing knowledge, and all its professors,' must have especially esteemed it in the instructor of his Lady Temper^ as the amiable boy used to call his favorite sister. It was at tliis period that he became acquainted with the lovely Jane Grey, a creature whose memory should singly put to rout the vulgar prejudice against female erudition. At the end of two years, however, upon a disgust he felt at the conduct of some of the princes's attendants, he suddenly threw up his appointment, and retired to his college. He after- ward had reason to regret the precipitancy of his conduct, which was, perhaps, never entirely forgotten, though he succeeded in a great measure in regaining the favor of Elizabeth. Returning to his duties, as public orator at Cambridge, he still retained his pension, and the confidence of the worthiest persons about court. His interest must have been very considerable, if, as Lloyd quaintly expresses it, " he hindered those who had dined on the churcli from snj-jp'mg on the universities ;" He was certainly esteemed by Elizabeth, and of her he spoke with enthusiasm to his latest day, not without a pleasing consciousness of his own services in making her what she was. Thus, in the "Schoolmaster," his latest work, lie makes her perfections a reproach to all her male subjects. " It is your shame, (I speak to you all, you yonfig gentlemen of England,) that one maid should go beyond ye all in excellency of learning, and knowledge of divers tongues. Point out six of the best given gen- tlemen of this court, and all they together show not so much good will, bestow not so many hours daily, ordeily, and constantly, for the increase of learning and knowledge, as doth the queen's Majesty her- self. Yes, I believe that besides her perfect readiness in Latin, Italian, French, and Spanish, she readeth now at Windsor more Greek every day than some prebendary of this church doth Latin in a whole week. Amongst all the benefits which God hath blessed me withal, next the knowledge of Christ's true religion, I count this the great- est, that it pleased God to call me to be one poor minister in setting forward there excellent gifts of learning." In excuse, however, of " the six best given gentlemen," it should be stated, that the learning of languages is emphatically a female tal- ent, bearing a much larger ratio to general ability in woman than in man. Yet who can but admire the indefatigable intellect of the re- nowned queen, harassed in youth with peril and persecution, and ROGER ASCHAM. 31 burdened in early maturity with public cares, which coukl yet attain a proticiency in polite learning, such as few professional scholars have excelled. The bare titles of the works which she translated evince the variety of her philological attainments, and justify the praises of her eulogists.* When no more than eleven years of age she transla- ted out of French verse into English prose, "The Mirror, or Glass, of the Sinful Soul," dedicated to Queen Catherine Parr, 1544. At twelve, she rendered out of English into Latin, French, and Italian, "Prayers or Meditations, by which the soul may be encouraged to bear with patience all the Miseries of Life, to despise the vain hap- piness of this world, and assiduously provide for eternal fecility, col- lected out of prime writers by the most noble and religious Queen Catherine Par, dedicated by the Princess Elizabeth to King Henry VIIL," dated at Hatfield, in Hertfordshire, December 30. Much about the same time she translated a treatise originally written by Marguerite of Navarre, in the French language, and entitled the " Godly Meditation of the Liward Love of the Soul toward Christ the Lord," printed in the " Monument of Matrons, containing seven several Lamps of Virginity." These were the works of the " tender and maidenly years" of her childhood. At a riper age she turned from Greek into Latin, portions of Xenophon, Isocrates, and Euri- pides ; from Greek to English, Boethius, Sallust's Jugurthine war, and part of Horace's Art of Poetry. Fi'om Italian she translated certain sermons of Bernardine Ochine, an Italian protestant divine. It is hard to say what assistance she may have had in these labors, nor can we speak of their merits from personal inspection ; but if she produced any considerable part of them, they must evince extreme activity, and a laudable love of literary employment. What teacher would not be proud of such a scholar ? But we must return to her preceptor. In 1550, while on a visit to his friends in Yorkshire, he was recall- ed to court by a letter, informing him that he had been appointed to accompany Sir Richard Morysinef onhis embassy to the court of the * The praises of Elizabeth were not confined to her own subjects. Scahger declared that she knew more than all the great men of her time. Serraniis honored her with the dedica- tion of his Pialo, in terms flattering enough, but only a learned Queen could be so flattered. Dedicators and panegyrists dabble much in prophecy ; but it is not often that Ihey prophecy truly. Sen-anus, however, was right for one, when he foretold the future fame of " good Queen Bess," and " Eliza's Golden-days." '• Quemadmodum Salomonis vilAugusti felix imperium, notabile fuit ad designandum civilem felicitatem ; ita et tuuni, regina, illustre, sit futurum, tuaque insula non amplius Albion sed Olbia et vere fortunata sit porro nuncupanda. Qiiidenim f In regno tuo vera ilia regnant philosophia cujus vix ao ne vix quidem umbram vidit Plato." t Sir Richard Morysine, [or Morison,]— son of Thomas Morysine, of Essex, w^as educated at Eaton and Cambridge,— traveled in Italy, and studied in Padua,— made prebendary in Salis- 32 ROGER ASCHAM. Emperor Charles V. It was on his way to London on this occasion, that he had his well-known interview with Lady Jane Grey, at her father's seat at Brodegate, in Leicestershire, where he found her, a young lady of fifteen, reading the "Phredon" of Plato in the original Greek, while the members of her family were hunting in the park. Ascham's beautiful relation of the scene is given in his "Schoolmaster ." " Before I went in Germany I came to Brodegate, in Leicester- shire, to take my lease of that noble lad}', Jane Grey, to whom I was exceedingly much beholding. Ilcr parents, the Duke and Duch- es.s, with all the house, old gentlemen and gentlewomen, were hunting in the park. I found her in the chamber alone, reading Phsedo Pla- tonis in Greek, and that with as much delight as some gentlemen would read a merry tale of Boecace. After salutation, and duty done, with some other talk, I a'^ked her why she should lose such pastime in the park? Smiling, she answered me, "I wist all their sport in the park is but a shadow of that pleasure I find in Plato. Alas, o-ood folk, they never felt what true pleasure meant." " And how came you, madam," quoth I, " to this knowledge of pleasure ? And what did chiefly allure you unto it, seeing not many women, and but very few men, have attained thereunto ?" " I will tell you," quoth she, "and tell you a truth which perchance ye may marvel at. One of the greater benetits God ever gave me, is, that he sent me so sharp and severe parents, and so gentle a schoolmaster.* For when I am in presence either of father or mother, whether I speak, keep silence, sit, stand, or go, eat. di'ink, be mci'ry or sad, be sewing, playing, dan- cing, or doing anylhing else, I must do it as it were in such weight, number, and mea-^ure, even so perfectly, as God made the world, or else I am so sharjily taunted, so cruelly threatened, yea, prescntlv, sometimes with pinches, nips, and bobs, and other ways, (which I will not name for the honor I bear them,) so without measure misordered that I think myself in hell, till time come that I must go to Mr. El- mer,! who teacheth me so gently, so pleasantly, wuth such fair allure- ments to learning, that I think all the time nothing while I am with him. And wdien I am called from him I fall on weeping, because whatsoever I do else beside learning, is full of grief, trouble, fear, and whole misliking unto me. And thus my book hath been so much my pleasure, and bringeth daily more pleasure and more ; that in respect of it, all other pleasures, in very deed, be but trifles and trou"bles unto bury Cathedral, and sent Ambassador to Emperor Charles V., by Henry VIII.,— was kniphted by Edward VI.,— and died in 15o6. *Mr. Elmer, or .Tllmcr, or Aylmcr, as the name is variously written, was born as 1521, studied both at Oxford and Cambridge at the cost of Henry Grey, Marquis of Dorset, by whom he w?s made tutor to his own dau^diters, of whom the Lady .lane Grey was the eldest,— was made Arch deacon of Sto we, in 1553,— and Bishop of London, in 1576. and died in J594. ROGER ASCHAM. 33 me."" I remember this talk gladly, both because it is worthy of memory and because also it was the last talk I had, and the last time that I ever saw that noble and worthy lady." The interview, simple in incident as it was, has assumed the dignity of a piece of history, and its illustration has been a favorite subject both for the author* and the artist. Before leave-taking, Ascham obtained a promise of the Lady Jane to write to him in Greek, on condition that she should first write to her, as soon as he arrived in the Emperor's court.f His epistle is ex- tant in choice Latin. Alluding to the circumstances of their last in- terview, he declares her hv^ppier in her love of good books, than in her descent from kings and queens. No doubt he spoke sincerely, but he knew not then how truly. Her studious quietude of spirit was her indefeasible blessing, while her royal pedigreej was like an hereditary curse, afflicting her humility with unwilling greatness, and her innocence with unmerited distress. Ascham embarked for Germany in the following September. Ho accompanied Morysine as a kind of secretary, though some of his du- ties resembled those of a tutor, comprising, as they did, the reading of " all Herodotus, five tragedies of Sophocles, most of Euripides, the orations of Isocrates, and twenty-one orations of De- mosthenes," during the ambassador's stay at Augsburg, as we are informed by Ascham himself, in a letter to a college friend at home. But besides these literary labors, he took a share in the di- plomatic correspondence, and is said to have been consulted on all af- fairs of importance by his principal. He also occupied himself in preparing a " Report on the affairs of Germany," which was printed. His urbanity, readiness, and general information, recommended him * We append to this article, an '• Imaginary Conversation" between Roger Ascham and I.ady Jane Grey, by Waiter Savage Landor. t These particulars we learn from a letter of Roger's to Slurminus, dated 14th December, 1550, in which he promises to show Jane's epistle to the German scliolar, when it should ar- rive. It appears, too, that the Lady was requested to correspond with Sturmius in Greek. J Lady Jane Grey was the daughter of Frances Brandon, the daughter of Mary Q.ueen Do- wager of France, and sister of Henry VIIL, by Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk. Her fath- er was Henry Grey, Marquis of Dorset, descended from Eliz.abeth. Queen to Edward IV., by her former marriage, through her son, Thomas Grey, who married the King's niece. Tine father of Lady Jane was created Duke of SutTolk, on the failure of the male line of the Bran- dons. Lady Jane Grey, or to speak more correctly, Lady Guilford Dudley, (for she perished in her honeymoon,) wrote her last letter to her sister Catharine in the blank pages of her Greek Testament; and when she saw her bridegroom led to execution under her prison window, she wrote three several sentences in her tablets in as many languages. The first in Greek, to Ihis effect :— If his slain body shall ijive testimony against me before men, his blessed soul shall render an eternal proof of my innocence before God. The secontl in Latin : — The justice of men took away his body, but the divine mercy has preserved his spirit. Tlie third in English : — If my fault deservtd punishment, my youth and my imprudence were worthy of excuse : God aod posterity will show me favor. 3 34 ROGER ASCHAM. not less to Princes and Ministers, than his Greek, Latin, logic, and divinity, to John Sturmius and Jerome Wolfius. The courtiers thought it a pity he was not always attached to an embassy, and the learned regretted that he should ever leave the schools. Whatever he was doing seemed his forte, and so rife were his praises in every mouth, that he was in peril of the woe denounced against those whom " all men speak well of." During his absence abroad, his friends in England procured not only the restoration of his pension, which had ceased at the death of Henry VIII., but the place of Latin secretary to Edward VL For these favors he was indebted, as appears by a letter of As- cham preserved in the Lansdowne MSS., to the interference of Sir William Cecil, the Ambassador Murysine, and Sir John Cheke. The death of King Edward in 1553, led to the immediate recall of the ambassador, with whom Ascham returned to England. By this event he lost both his recent preferments, and the accession of the Catho- lic Queen Mary held out such dismal prospects for the future, that Ascham retired to his college almost in despair. Matters however took an unexpected turn. Sir William Paget, whose recommenda- tion of the " Toxophilus" to King Henry had procured his pension from that king, now exerted his influence in his ftivor with Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, who, notwithstanding Ascham's staunch pro- testantisn) was often represented to him, proved his steady patron. The "Toxophilus" was produced by the bishop at the council, and was considered so useful a work, that the objections to the author's advancement were removed. Ascham's pension was not only restored, but doubled, and he was appointed Latin secretary to king Philip and the queen. He was .so diligent in his office, that at its commence- ment he is recorded to have written in three days no less than forty- seven letters to princes and great personages, the lowest in rank being a cardinal. These of course were all written with his own hand, one of his principal qualifications, in addition to his learning, being the excellence of his penmanship, for which he had been celebrated from his college days. By the influence of Gardiner he was also enabled to retain his fellowship and his post of public orator at the university — when by strict statute he might have been deprived of them, till they were vacated by his marriage. The object of his choice was Mistress Margaret Howe, a lady of some fortune and good family, to whom he was united on the 1st of June, 1554. A letter from the "German Cicero," Sturmius, who corresponded with our author with all the warmth and frequency of school friendship, dated the 24th of the same month, jocosely reproaches him with omitting to communi- ROGER ASCHAM. 35 cate such an important piece of business. "But what is it I hear? Would you keep your engagement close, for fear I should send you a nigh-Dutch epithalamium ? I am informed that your intended is niece to the wife of Mr, Walop, that was governor of Guisnes when I was at Calais. Ah ! but she was an honest madam, a fair and comely dame ! If it be so, that you are going to make her your spouse, or if you have any other in your eye, do let me know, and tell me when the day is to be, that if I can not myself be present at the espousals, I may send Thalassius* to make my compliments to your love in my stead." Ascham replied, — " As for my wife, she is the picture of her aunt Walop, and all that John Sturmius could wish the wife of Roger Ascham to be." The singular good fortune of Ascham in not only escaping persecu- tion, but receiving favor, throughout the troubles of Mary's reign, while his contemporaries at college were either led to the stake, or compelled to recant, is a problem which it would now be difficult to solve. Johnson is willing to attribute it to chance; other biographers imagine that his services were of sufficient importance to protect his life; while all allow that his immunity was at any rate not purchased by any sacrifice of his principles. On the death of Queen Mary, in 1558, Ascham was soon distin- guished by the notice of hor successor. He had long before -taken pains to erase from Elizabeth's mind any unfavorable impression that might have been produced by his abrupt departure from her service, and his excuses had been favorably received. He was now ajipointed Latin secretary and tutor in Greek to her Majesty, and during the rest of his life was a constant resident at court. He spent some hours every day in reading Greek and Latin authors with the queen, and often enjoyed the more envied honor of being her partner or oppo- nent in games of chance. He obtained from her several pieces of preferment, the principal of which was the prebend of Wctwang in the cathedral of York, which he received in 1559. lie liad the opportunity of fiequent interviews with her Majesty, and had the favor to talk Greek and Latin, and play chess with her, — openings which a more artful and ambitious man might easily have improved. But the pride or modesty of Roger would not suffer him to ask any thing for himself or others. Lideed he used to boast of his backwardness in this particular, often averring in conversation, that during all the happy hours that he had enjoyed his Lady Sovereign's presence, he never opened his mouth to enricli himself or any that be- longed to him ; that to serve his mistress well was his best reward ; * Tlialassius was the Roman nuptial god, as Hymen was the Greek. A song was sung at Weddings, in which ''In Thalassie'' was })trpetually rfpeated like a burden. 3 (J ROGER ASCHAM. that lie had rather freely win her good opinion than be dressed out in her munificence. The Lord Treasurer, who was his friend and well- wisher, often admonished him to take less pains, and urge more re- quests. But Ascham was slow even to receive what was offered, and thoroughly content with his condition, which, though moderate, was never, as Anthony a Wood states broadly, and a hundred others have copied from him, miserably poor. He had always sufficient for the day, and was not one of those that lay up store for the morrow. He was extremely indignant when any one offered him presents to purchase his interest with the Queen, saying, that God had not given him the use of his tongue that it might be venal and subservient to his profit. His income was narrow, he was neither importunate to get, nor provident to save — his purse and house were always open to the dis- tressed scholar, and whatever was his, was his friends' also. He de- lighted much in an epigram of Martial — Extra fortunam est quicqiiid donatur amicis ; Quas solas dederis, seini)er liabebis opes. The friendly boon from fate itself secures, And what you give, shall be for ever yours. This is not the way to grow rich. Roger Ascham was generous, and it may be imprudent ; but there is no just cause for supposing him viciously extravagant. There is little more to relate of the last ten years of his life. Find- ing his health injured by night-studies, he for a time discontinued them, and became an early riser; but toward the close of 1568 he sat up several nights successively in order to finish a poem addressed to the Queen on the new year. That new year he was never to see. Long subject to fever, and latterly to a lingering hectic, his over-exer- tion brought on a violent attack which his weakened constitution was unable to withstand. Sleep, which he had too long rejected, could not be persuaded to visit him again, though he was rocked in a cradle; all opiates failed, and in less than a week, exhausted nature gave way to the slumber, from which there is no waking on this side of the grave. He took to his bed on the 28th of December, and expired on the 30th of the same month, 1568, aged fifty-three. He was attended to the last by Dr. Alexander Nowel, Dean of St. Paul's, who, on the ensuing fourth of January, preached his funeral sermon, in which he declares that " he never knew man live more honestly nor die more christianly." As he had many friend-s, and no enemies, his death was a common sorrow, and Queen Elizabeth is reported to have said, that "she Avould rather have thrown ten thousand pounds into the sea, than have lost her Ascham." Notwithstanding his preferments, Ascham died poor. He left a ROGER ASCHAM. 3'7 widow, to whom he had been married in 1554, and several children, one of whom, Giles, was in after-life fellow of St. John's, (or Trinity, according to other authorities,) and celebrated, like his father, fur the elegance of his Latin cpi.'^tlos. Ascham's greatest work, "TheSchole- master," was not published until after his death. The occasion of its composition is told in the beginning of the book. After a conversa- tion among a number of eminent men. Sir William Cecil at their head, on the merits of severity and its opposite in school discipline, in which Ascham warmly attacked the former, Sir Richard Sackville took him aside, and avowing that his own education had been mar- red by the severity of his tutor, proposed that Ascham should draw up a plan of instruction, and recommend a person under whom it could be put in ]iractiee, having for his scholars Sir Richard's grandson, and Ascham's eldest boy, Giles. Ascham set about his task with de- light; but the death of Sir Richard in 1566, before it was completed, put an end to the proposed scheme, and caused the author to finish his work with a sorrow and heaviness in sad contrast to the high hopes with which he entered upon it. He left the book completed for the press, when he died, and it was published by his widow, with a dedication to Sir William Cecil, and with a view, not altogether disappointed, of attracting his attention in behalf of her son Giles to whom it was thus, after all, of some benefit, although in a far dif- ferent manner from what the author could have anticipated. The principal object of the work besides the reprehension of severity on the part of teachers and parents, is the introduction of a new system of teaching the Latin language, a system which has been partially revived of late years. Ascham proposes, after teaching the rudi- ments of grammar, to commence a course of double translation, first from Latin into English, and shortly after from English into Latin, correcting the mistakes of the student, and leading to the formation of a classic style, by pointing out the differences between the re-trans- lation and the original, and explaining their reasons. Ilis whole sys- tem is built upon this principle of dispensing as much as possible with the details of grammar, and he supports his theory by a triumphant reference to its practical effects, especially as displayed in the case of Queen Elizabeth, whose well-known proficiency in Latin he declares to have been attained without any grammatical rules after the very simplest had been mastered. The excellence of Ascham's epistolary style has been referred to. lie was in correspondence with most of the learned men of his time, both in England and on the continent, especially with Sturmius, whose name he gave to one of his three sons. After his death, a collection, 38 ROGER ASCHAM. of his Latin letters was published by his friend Edward Grant, mas- ter of Westminster School, together with a few poems, for the benefit of Giles Ascham, who was then under Grant's tuition. To this col- lection was prefixed a panegyric on Ascham, which is the principal source for his life, though his letters, and numerous allusions scattered through his works, contribute to a knowledge of his personal history. A writer in the Retrospective Review, (Vol. iv. p. 76,) in an inter- esting notice of Toxophilus remarks : "Ascham is a great name in our national literature. He was one of the founders of a true English stylo in prose composition, and one of the most respectable and useful of our scholars. He was amongst the first to reject the use of foreign words and idioms, a fashion, which in the reign of Henry the VHl., began to be so prevalent, that the authors of that day, by " using straunge wordes, as Latine, Frenche, and Italian, did make all thinges darke and harde." It required some virtue moreover in Ascham, at- tached as he was to the study of the learned languages, to abstain from mingling them with his English compositions, especially when the public taste countenanced such innovations. But Aschauj's mind was too patriotic to permit him to think, that his native tongue could be improved by this admixture of foreign phrases, an opinion which lie illustrates by this comparison ; — " but if you put malvesye and sacke, redde wyne and white, ale and beere, and all in one pot, you shall make a drincke not easye to be known nor yet holsome for the bodye." In obedience to the precept of Aristotle, — to think like the wise, but to speak like the common people ; Ascham set a successful example of a simple and pure taste in writing, and we question whether we do not owe more to him on this account, than even for the zeal which he displayed in the cultivation of the Greek, language, during its infancy amongst us." Ascham's character is well summed up in a passage of his life by Mr. Hartley Coleridge : "There was a primitive honesty, a kindly innocence, about this good old scholar, which gave a personal interest to the homeliest details of his life. He had the rare felicity of pas- sing through the worst of times without persecution and without dis- honor. He lived with princes and princesses, prelates and diploma- tists, without offence and without ambition. Though he enjoyed the smiles of royalty, his heart was none the worse, and his fortunes litr tle the better." TOXOPHILUS; THE SCHOLE OF SHOOTINGE; BV ROGER ASCHAM, WRITTEN IN 1554, Before introducing to our readers " the Schole Master" of Queen Eliza- beth, or *' the plaine and perfite way" in which Roger Ascham led his royal pupil up the sublime heights of ancient learning, we will devote a few pages to a brief notice and a few specimens of his Toxophilus. ToxoPHiLus was written in 155+, during Ascham's residence at the University of Cambridge, and seems, in addition to other ends, to have been intended as an apology for the zeal with which he studied and prac- ticed the ancient, but now forgotten art of archery as a means of recrea- tion. His great attachment to the exercise, and the time spent upon it were considered unliccoming the character of a grave scholar and teacher. From this imputation, he endeavors in the character of Toxophilus^ (a lover of archery,) to free himself, by showing in a dialogue with Philolo- gus^ (a student,) the honor and dignity of the art, in all nations and in all times. He asserts truly that much of the success of English arms at Cressy, Poictiers, Agincourt, and Flodden, was due to their strength of arm and accuracy of eye, with which the bold yeomen of England "drew their arrows to the head," and discharged the " iron sleet" against their discomfited enemies. To realize the part which the practice of archery played in the pastimes of peace, we have only to recall its frequent intro- duction into the rural poetry of England, and the traditionary stories of the Strongbows and Robin Hoods of ancient days. It was the national practice of shooting for pleasure or prizes, by which every man was inured to archery from his inftvncy, that gave the English yeomen an insuperable advantage in the use of the bow over all foreign troops, and made them for- midable even to foes armed with the clumsy muskets of the times of Queen Elizabeth. We do not propose to set forth Ascham's encomiums on the utility of archer)"^ in matters of war, or the minute practical details which he gives for choosing and using the bow, even to the species of goose, from the wing of which the best feathers are to be plucked for the shaft, but to present his views of the fitness and utility of manly sports, and recreating amusements for those who lead a sedentary life. A wri- ter in the Retrospective Review, (Vol. IV., p. 79,) in commenting on this work of Ascham justly observes : * Tlie followinsf is the title in Bennett's Edition of Roger Ascham's Works : TOXOPIIII.IIS : The Schole, or Partitions of Shooting. Contayned in II Bookes. Writ- ten by Roger Ascham, 1554. And now newly perused. Pleasant for all Gentlemen and Yomen of Englnnde. For theyr pastime to reade, and profitable lor tlieyr use to foUowe in warre and peace. Anno, l.'".?!. Imprinted at London, in Fletestreate, near to Saint Duo- ■tones Churche by Thomas jMarshe. 40 ASCHAMS TOXOPHILUS. "A scholar seldom takes much delight in active amusements. The body is always postponed to the mind ; and provided the latter has exer- cise enough, he is too apt to be negligent of the health and comfort of the former. On this account the amusements of literary men have fre- quently a degree of mental labor combined with them, which generally defeats the ends they ought to attain ; or, as Fuller says, ' they cozen their mind in setting it to do a double task under pretense of giving it a play day, as in the labyrinth of chess, and other tedious and studious games.' It is difficult to cheat the brain into idleness. Kirk White could not help repeating CJreek verses as he took his daily walk. Mere exer- cise is rather painful than pleasant to studious men, and accordingly we find they often hasten over it like a disagreeable task. Swift used to run up and down hill some half a dozen times by way of compressing as much exercise as possible into a given space of time, — a mode of recrea- tion for which we have the authority of Galen, whose catalogue of amuse- ments for the studious, we give in our author's words, strongly recom- mending them to the attention of our modern literati. " To run up and down hill, to climb up a long pole or a rope, and there hang awhile, to hold a man by his arms,' and wave with his heels, much like the pastime the boys used in the church when their master was away, to swing and totter in a bell -rope, to make a fist and stretch out both his arms, and so stand like a rood. To go on a man's tip-toes stretching out the one of his arms forward, the other backward, which if he bleared out his tongue also, might be thought to dance antic very properly. To tumble over and over, to top over tail, to set back to back and see who can heave another's heels highest, with other much like." If we might rely on the word of Sir Phillip Sidney, the exercise of riding on horseback is a very fitting relaxation. lie gives a very fascin- ating account of the zeal with which he and his friend, ' the right virtu- ous E. W.,' when at the Emperor's court studied this science. This too was an amusement which met with the approbation of Bishop Stilling- fleet. Moreover, Erasmus seems to have been attached to it, who, as Ascham tells us, ' when he was here in Cambridge, and when he had been sore at his book, (as Garret our book-binder has often told me,) for lack of better exercise would take his horse, and ride about the mar- ket hill and come again.' Field sports seldom take the fancy of literary men, and, nothwithstanding the praise of honest Piscator, Isaac Walton, we are rather inclined to think with another old writer, that ' fishing with an angle is rather a torture than a pleasure, to stand an hour as mute as the fish they mean to take.' After all, the soberest and the fit- test exercise, is a quiet and refreshing walk in the field, where the eye enjoys a pleasant change of scene, just sufficient to attract the attention of the mind without fatiguing it. But rn this opinion we run completely counter to our author, who speaks of this mode of exercise in a very contemptuous manner. — ' Walking alone in the field hath no token of courage in it, a pastime like a single man that is neither flesh nor fish.' " The following is the opening of the discourse between Toxophilus and Philologus, in which the former endeavors to prove that some relaxation ASCIIAM'S TOXOPHILDS. 4J and pastime are to be mingled with study and the serious business of life. PMlologus. — You study too sore, Tosophilus. Toxophtlus. — I will not hurt nij^sclf overmuch, I warrant you. Phil. — Take heed j'ou do not, for we physicians say that it is neither good for the eyes in so clear a sun, nor yet wholesome for the body, so soon after meat to look upon a man's book. Tox. — In eating and studying I will never follow any physician, for if I did I am sure I should have small pleasure in the one, and less courage in the other. But what news drove you hither, I pray you? Phil. — Small news, truly, but that as I came on walking, I fortuned to come with three, or four that went to shoot at the pricks; [marA-,] and when I saw not you among them, but at last espied you looking on your book here so sadly, \se.rimusly,'\ I thought to come and hold you with some communication, lest your book should run away with you. For methought, by your wavering pace and earnest looking, your book led you, not you it. Tox. — Indeed, as it chanced, my mind went faster than my feet, fori happened here to read in Phedro Platouis, a place that treats wonderfully of the nature of souls; which place, whether it were for the passing eloquence of Plato and the Greek tongue, or for the high and goodl_ve description of the matter, kept my mind so occupied, that it had no leisure to look to my feet. For I was reading how some souls being well feathered, flew always about heaven and heavenly matters: other some having their feathers mouted away and dropping, sank down into earthly things. Phil. — I remember the place very well, and it is wonderfully said of Plato : and now I see it was no marvel though your feet failed you, seeing your mind flew so fast. Tox. — I ana glad now that you letted {intarrupted] me, for my head aches with looking on it, and because you tell me so, I am very sorry that I was not with those good fellows you spake upon, for it is a very fair day for a man to shoot in. Phil. — And methinks you were a groat deal better occupied, and in better company, for it is a very fair day for a man to go to his book in. Tijx.—X[\ days and weathers will serve for that purpose, and surely this oc- casion was ill lost. Pldl. — Yes, but clear weather makes clear minds, and it is best, as I suppose, to spend the best time upon the best things, and methought you shot very well, and at that mark at which every good scholar should most busily shoot at. And I suppose it be a great deal more pleasure to see a soul fly in Plato, than a shaft fly at the pricks. I grant you shooting is not the worst thing in the world, yet if we shoot, and time shoot, we arc not apt to be great winners at the length. And you know also, that we scholars have more earnest and weighty matters in hand, nor wo be not born to pastime and play, as 3'ou know well enough who sayeth. To.c. — Yet the same man, \_Cicero da offit:iis,'\ in the same place, Philologe, by your leave, doth admit, wholesome, honest, and manly p;\stimes, to be as neces- sary to be mingled with sad matters of the mind, as eating and sleeping is for the health of the body, and yet we be born for neither of both. And Aristotle himself, [Ethics, Book 10, chap. 6.] sayeth although it were a fond and a childish thing to be too earnest in pastime and play, yet doth he affirm, by the authority of the old poet, Epicharmus, that a man may use play for earnest matters sake. And in another place, [Politics, V. 61, 6,] that, as rest is for labor, and medicines for health, so is pastime, at times, for sad and weighty study. Phil. — TTow much in this matter is to be given to the authority of Aristotle or Tally. I can not tell, seeing sad [serww] men may well enough speak merrily for a mere matter: this I am sure, which thing this fair wheat, (God save it,) maketh me remember, that those husbandmen which rise earliest, and come latest home, and are content to have their dinner and other drinkings brought into the field to them, for fear of losing time, have fatter barns in the harvest, than they which will either sleep at noontime of the day, or else make merry with their neighbors at the ale. And so a good scholar, that purposeth to be a 42 ASCIIAMS TOXOPIIILDS. good husband, and desireth to reap and enjoy much fruit of learning, must till and sow thereafter, [in order to it. j Our best seed time, -which be scliolars, aa it is very timely, and when we bo young: so it endureth not over long, and therefore it may not be let slip one hour; our ground is very hard and full of weeds, our iiorse wherewith we be drawn very wild, aa Plato saith. [Phcedro.] And infinite other nio lets, [hindrances] which will make a thrifty scholar take heed how he spendeth his time in sport and play. Tox. — That Aristotle and Tully spake earnestly, and as they thought, the earnest matter wliieh they treat upon, doth plainly prove. And as for your husbandry, it was more [specioii-vlij] told with apt words, projjer to the thing, than thorougld}' proved with reasons belonging to our matter. For contrary- wise, I heard myself a good husband at ids book once say, that to omit study •for sometime of the day, and sometime of the year, made aa much for the in- crease of learning, as to let the land lie somethne fallow, maketh for the better increase of corn. Thus we see, if the land be ploughed every year, the com cometh thin up; the ear is short, the grain is small, and when it is brought into the barn and threshed, giveth very evil faule. [^yroduce.] So those which never leave pour- ing on their books, have oftentimes as thin inventions as other poor men have, and as small wit and weight in it as other men's. And thus your husbandry, methink is more like the life of a covetous snudge, that oft very evil proves, than the labor of a good husband, that kuoweth well what he doth. And surely the best wits to learning must needs have nmcli recreation, and cease from their books, or else the3- mar themselves : when base and dumpish wits can never be hiyt with continual study ; as ye see in luting, that a treble minikin string must always be let down, but at such a time as when a man must needs play ; when the base and dull string needeth never to be moved out of his place. The same reason I find true in two bowes that I have, whereof the one is quick of cast, tricke [neat] and trim, botli for pleasure and profit; the other is a lugge, [siivng and heavy,] slow of cast, following the string, more sure for to last than pleasant for u.se. Now, sir, it chanced tlie other night, one in my chamber would needs bend tliem to prove their strength, but, (I can not tell how,) they were both left bent till the next day after dinner ; and when I came to them, pur- posing to have gone on shooting, I found my good bow clean cast [ioar2)ed] on the one side, and as weak as water, that surely, if I was a rich man, 1 would rather have spent a crown ; and as for my lugge it was not one whit the worse, but shot by and by as well and as far as it ever did. And even so, I am sure that good wits except they be let down like a treble string and unbent like a good casting bow, they will never last and be able to continue in study. And I know where I speak this. Philologus, for I would not not say thus much afore young men, for they will take soon occasion to study little enough. But I say it therefore, because I know, as little study getteth little learning, or none at all, so the most study getteth not the most learning of all. For a man's wit fore-occupied in earnest study, must be as well recreated with some honest pastime, as the body, fore-laboured must be refreshed v/ith sleep and quietness, or else it can not endure very long, as the noble poet [Ovid] saith: — " Wliat thing wants quiet and merry rest, endures but a small while." Philologus was not disposed to yield up readil}' his objections to shooting, and so challenges Toxophilus to a discussion of the subject, upon which the latter enters right heartily. He traces its origin, according to various authori- ties among the poets and historians to Jupiter, and Apollo, and cites its use among the Medes and Persians, Greeks and Romans, by Aviso lawgivers, and emment princes, by poets and physicians. He cites the authority of Lycurgus to show that "the Lacedemonians never ordained anything for the bringing up of youths which was not joined with labor ; and that labor which is in shoot- ing of all other is best, both because it increaseth strength, and preserveth health most, being not vehement, but moderate, not overlaying any one part with wea- riness, but softly exorcising every part with equalness ; as the arras and breast ASCHAM'S ToxopinLUa. 43 ■with drawing, the other parts with giving, being also pleasant for the pastime, which exercise by the judgment of the best physicians is most allowable." "By shooting also is the mind honestly exercised, whore a man always de- sireth to be best, and that by the same way, that virtue itself doth, coveting to come nighest a most perfect end, or mean standing betwixt two extremes, escliewing sport, or gone [too far] on either side, for which causes Aristotle him- self saith, that shooting and virtue bo very Tke. Moreover that shooting of all others, is the most honest pastime, and that least occasion to naughtiness is joined with it, two things do very plainly prove, which be, as a man would say, the tutors and overseers to shooting; daylight and open place where every man doth come, the maintainors and keepers of shooting from all unhonest doing." Phihlogm urges, that if scholars must have pasthne and recreation for their minds, "let them use music and playing on instruments, as more seemly for scholars, and most regarded always of Apollo and the Muses." Toxophilus adds, even as I can not deny but some music is for learning, so I trust you can not choose but grant that shooting is fit also, as Callemarchas does signify in this verse. ^'■Bolh merry song and good shootiny delighteth Apollo." He then proceeds to criticise the effect of music on the those who devote much time to it, as being much more suitable to women than men. Philologus, however, dwells on the humanizing influence on the manners which would fol- low, if the whole people were taught to sing and enjoy good music, and also on the uses which lawyers and preachers would find in a proper culture of the voice. He therefore concludes that as singing is an aid to good speaking, and to making men better, " as daily experience doth teach, the example of wise men doth allow, authority of learned men doth approve," it should be part of the education and pastime of every youth. But as for shooting, he can not think that " a man can be in earnest in it, and earnest at his book to." In defending his favorite pastime, Toxophilus grants that shooting should be "a waiter upon learning, not a mistress over it." "A pastime must be whole- some, and equal for every part of the body, pleasant, and full of courage for the mind, not vile and dishonest to give ill examiDle to other men, not kept in gar- dens and corners, not lurking into the night and in holes, but evermore in the face of men." In the above views expressed by Toxophilus, Ascham is sustained by the Rev. Dr. Thomas Fuller, who in his Holy State expresses himself in this quaint ■way. " Recreation is a second creation, when weariness hath almost annihila- ted one's spirits. It is the breathing of the soul, wliich otherwise would be stifled with continual business. " Take heed of boisterous and over-violent exercises. Ringing has often- times made good music on the bells, and put men's bodies out of tune, so that by over-heating themselves, they have rung their own passing bolls. " Refresh that part of thyself which is most wearied. If thy life bo sedenta- ry, exercise thy body; if stirring and active, recreate thy mind. But take heed of cozening thy mind, in setting it to a double task, under pretense of giving it a play-day, as in the labyrinth of chess and other tedious and studious games. " Yet recreations distasteful to some dispositions, relish best to others. Fish- ing with an angle is to some rather a torture than a pleasure, to stand an hour as mute as a fish they mean to take. Yet herewithal Dr. Whitaker was much dehghtcd. "When some noblemen had gotten Wilham Cecil, Lord Burleigh and 44 ASCHAM'S TOXOPIIILUS. the Treasurer of England, to ride with them a hunting, and the sport began to be cold, 'what call you this?' said the Treasurer. '0, now,' said they, 'the dogs are at fault.' 'Yea,' quoth the Treasurer, 'take me again in such a fault, and I'll give you leave to punish me.' Thus as soon may the same meat please all palates, as the same sports suit all dispositions. " Running, leaping, and dancing, the descants on the plain song of walking, are all excellent exercises. And yet those are best recreations, which beside refreshing, enable, at least dispose men to some other good ends. Bowling teaches men's hands and eyes mathematics, and the rules of proportion ; swim- ming hath saved many a man's life, when himself hath been both the waves and the ship ; tilting and fencing is war without anger ; and manly sports are the grammar of military performance. "But above all, shooting is a noble recreation, and a half liberal art. A rich man told a poor man that he walked to get a stomach for his meat. 'And I,' said the poor man, ' walk to get meat for mj"^ stomach.' Now shooting would have fitted both their turns ; it provides food when men are hungrj-, and helps digestion when they are full. " Recreation, rightlj^ taken, shall both strengthen labor, and sweeten rest, and we ma}' expect God's blessing and protection on us in following them, as w^l as in doing our work ; for he that saith grace for liis meat, in it also prays God to bless the sauce unto him. As for those that will not take lawful pleas- ure, I am afraid they will take unlawful pleasure, and by lacing themselves too hard, grow awry on one side." "We have confined our notice of Toxophilus to the description of archery as a recreation. The book is fuU of maxims of profound practical wisdom, of ex- quisitely touched pictures of manners, and of delightful tributes to learning. The discourse concludes in this manner : Tox. — This communication handled of me, Philogue, as I know well not per- fectly, yet as I suppose truly, you must take in good worth, wherein, if divers things do not altogether please you, thank yourself, which would rather have me faulte in mere folly, to take that thing in hand, which I was not able to per- form, than by any honest shamefacedness with-saye your request and mind, which I know well I have not satisfied. But yet I wiU think this labor of mine better bestowed, if to-morrow, or some other day when you have leisure, you will spend as much time with me here in this same place, in entreating the question, deorigine animce, and the joining of it with the body that I may know how far Plato, Aristotle, and the Stoicans, have waded in it. Phil. — How you have handled this matter, Toxophile, I may not tell you myself now, but for your gentleness and good will toward learning and shoot- ing, I will be content to show you any pleasure whensoever you will ; now the sun is down, therefore if it please you, we will go home and drink in my cham- ber, and then I will tell you plainly what I think of this communication, and also what day we will appoint, at your request, for the other matter to meet here again. THE SCHOOLMASTER. OB A PLADf AND PERFECT WAY OF TEACHING CHILDREN TO UNDERSTAND, WRITE AND SPEAK THE LATIN TONGUE.* BY ROGER ASCHAM. Written in 1563-4, and first printed in 1571. PREFACE TO THE READER. When tlie great plague was at London, the year 1563, the Queen's Majesty, Queen Elizabeth, lay at her Castle of Windsor; where, upon the tenth day of December, it fortuned, that in Sir William Cecil's chamber, her Highness's principal Secretary, there dined to- gether these personages, M. Secretary himself,' Sir William Peter,* Sir J. Mason, ^ D. Wotton,^ Sir Richard Sackville,' Treasurer of the Exche- quer, Sir Walter Mildmay,^ Chancellor of E.xchequer, M. Iladdon,^ Master of Requests, M. John Astely,^ Master of the Jewel House, M. Bernard Hampton,^ M. Nicasius, ' " and I. ' ' Of which number, the most part were of her Majesty's most honorable Privy Council, and the rest serving her in very good place. I was glad tlien, and do rejoice yet to remember, that my chance was so happy to be there that day, in the company of so many wise and good men together, as hardly then could have been picked out again, out of all England beside. M. Secretary hath this accustomed manner ; though his head be never so full of most weighty aft'airs of the realm, yet at dinner time he doth seem to lay them always aside; and findeth ever fit occasion to talk pleasantly of other matters, but most gladly of some matter of learning, wherein he will courteously hear the mind of the meanest at his table. Not long after our sitting down, "I have strange news brought me. saith M. Secretary, this morning, that divers scholars of Eaton run * The following is the original title of the work, as given by Upton. THE SCHOLEMASTER; Or plaine and perfite Way nf tcac/ihig Children, to understand, irri't, and speake, the Latin Tongue, but specially purposed for the private bringing up of Youth in Jentlemen and Noblemens Iluuses, and cornrriodioiis also for all such as have forgot the Latin Tongue, and would, by themselves, tcithout a Schulem aster, in short Tyme, and with small Paines, recover asnjficient Ilabilitie, to understand, write, and speake Latin. By Roger Ascham, Anno 1571. AT LONDON, Printed by John Daye. dwelling over Aldersgate. Cum Gratia if PrivHegio Regioi Mujestatis. per Decennium. 1. 2, &c. The Numerals refer to Annotal ions on pages IGl — 16G. iQ . ASCIIAM S SCHOOLMASTER. awayfrom the schoolfor fear of a beating." "* Whereupon M. Secretary took occasion to wish, that some more discretion were in many school- masters, in using correction, than commonly there is; who many times punish rather the weakness of nature, than the fault of the scholar; whereby many scholars, that might else prove well, be driven to hate learning before they know what learning meaneth ; and so are made willing to forsake their book, and be glad to be put to any other kind of living. M. Peter, as one somewhat severe of nature, said plainly, that the rod only was the sword, that must keep the school in obedience, and the scholar in good order. Mr. Wotton, a man mild of nature, with soft voice and few words, inclined to M. Secretary's judgment, and said, " In mine opinion the school-house should be in deed, as it is called by name, the house of play and pleasure, and not of fear and bondage ; and as I do remember, so saith* Socrates in one place of Plato. And therefore if a rod carry the fear of a sword, it is no marvel if those that be fearful of nature, choose rather to forsake the play, than to stand always within the fear of a sword in a fond {foolish) man's handling.'' M. Mason, after his manner, was very merry with both partie.'., pleasantly playing both with the shrewd touches of many curstf boys, and with the small discretion of many lewdf schoolmasters. M. Had- don was fully of M. Peter's opinion, and said, that the best school- master of our time was the J greatest beater, and named the per- son. " Though, quoth I, it was his good fortune, to send from his school into the Univei'sity§ one of the best scholars indeed of all our time, yet wise men do think, that that came to pass, rather by the great towardness of the scholar, than by the great beating of the master; and whether this be true or no, you yourself are best witness.'' I said somewhat further in the matter, how, and why young children were sooner allured by love than driven by beating, to attain good learning ; wherein I was the bolder to say my mind, because M. Sec- retary courteously provoked me thereunto ; or else in such a company 'The passage, to which the Dean of Canterbury refers, is in Plato's 7ih Hook of Repub , Chap. 16, and is afterwnrci cited hy Mr. A.tc/iavi. Tu fiiv Toivvv XoyiffKov tc koi yccoijCTOiiov, Kai nao-ns riTs -rpoTraiihai, Sjv rijf Aia\cKTtKn( icT TrponaticvOrjvai, natg'tv uai xpfl ^po6a\Xeiv ix <»'S inavayKCS fiaOclv rd oxVfC rii itfaxni Jroiit/iti'Kj. Ti 6ii ; " On (nv6' iycii) iSiv fiaOrifta ftCTa 6u\iiai run iXcvOepov %/)f/ ixavOivctv. O! fitv j ap tu iTMiiaroi ndvoi, 6(a irdvijicvoi, x^^P"' oi&iv rn tTi.'fia hneoya^oi'Tai, 4'iiYij ii 0iatuv ifcv t^/tovov ftaOrffia 'K\riOfi, £(/ii7. M>? riSii'iii' 8ta {ciTtov') . (17.) t Curst, mischievous ; lewd, savage. J This Wds Nicholas Udel, Master of Z7a/07i School, whom Daie BtWes. Elegantissimus omni- um bov arum li'crariim Magistpr. ft f rum /rlirissimus intcrpres. His severity his cwn scholar, Mr. Tnsser, lias sufficiently proclaim'd S Tills was Mr. //arfrfon, sometime Fellow of King's College in Cambridge. ASCHAM'S SCHOOLMASTER. ^y and purely in Lis presence, my wont is to be more willing to use mine ears, than to occupy my tongue. Sir Walter Mildmay, M. Astley, and the rest, said very little; only Sir Richard Sackville said nothing at all. After dinner, I went up to read with the Queen's Majesty. We read then together in the Greek tongue, as I well remember, that noble oration of Demosthenes against yEschines, for his false dealing in his emb^issage to King Philip of Macadonie. Sir Ricliard Sackville came up soon after, and finding me in her Majesties privy chamber, he took me by the hand, and carrying- me to a window, said : " M. Ascham, I would not for a good deal of money have been this day absent from dinner; where, though I said nothing, yet I gave as good ear, and do consider as well the talk that passed, as any one did there. M. Secretary said very wisely, and most truly, that many young wits be driven to hate learning, before they know what learn- ing is. I can be good witness to this myself; for a fond [foolish) schoolmaster, before I was fully fourteen years old, drave me so with fear of beating from all love of learning, that now, when I know what difference it is, to have learning, and to have lit- tle, or none at all, I feel it my greatest grief, and find it my greatest hurt that ever came to me, that it was my so ill chance, to light upon so lewd a schoolmaster. But feeling it is but in vain to lament things past, and also wisdom to look to things to come, surely, God willing, if God lend me life, I will make this my mishap some occasion of good hap to little Robert Sackville my son's son. For whose bringing up, I would gladly, if it so please you, use specially your good advice. I hear say you have a son much of his age ; we will deal thus together: point you out a schoolmaster, who by your or- der shall teach my son and yours,*^ and for all the rest, I will ju-ovide, yea tliough they three do cost me a couple of hundred pounds by year ; and beside, you shall find me as fast a friend to you and yours, as perchance .any you have." Which promise the worthy gentleman surely kept with me until his dying day. We had then farther talk together of bringing up of children, of the nature of quick and hard wits, of the right choice of a good wit, of fear, and love in teachingchildren. We passed from cliildren and came to young men, namely, gentlemen : we talked of their too much liberty to live as they lust; of their letting loose too soon to overmuch experience of ill, contrary to the good order of many good old Commonwealths of the Persians, and Greeks ; of wit gathered, and good fortune gotten by some, only by experience without learn- ing. And, lastly, he required of me very earnestly to shew what I thought of the common going of English men into Italy. " But, saith 48 ASCIIAM S SCHOOLMASTER. he, because this pjace, and this time will not suffer so long talk, ai these good matters require, therefore I pray 3'ou, at my request, and at your leisure, put in sonic order of writing the chief points of this our talk, concerning the right order of teaching, and lionesty of Hv- ing, for the good bringing up of children and young men ; and sure- ly, beside contenting me, you sliall both please and profit very many others." I made some excuse by lack of ability, and weakness of body. " Well, saith he, T am not now to learn what you can do ; our dear friend, good M. Goodricke,* whose judgment I could well believe, did once for all satisfy me fully therein. Again, I heard you say, not long ago, that you may thank Sir John Cheke'^ for all the learning you have ; and I know very well myself, that you did teach the Queen. And therefore, seeing God did bless you, to make you the scholar of the best master, and also the schoolmaster of the best scholar, that ever were in our time, surely, you should please God, benefit your country, and honest your own name, if you would take the pains to impart to others what you learned of such a master, and how you taught such a scholar. And in uttering the stuff ye received of the one, in declaring the order ye took with the other, ye shall never lack neither matter, nor manner, what to write nor how to write, in this kind of argument." I beginning some further excuse, suddenly was called to come to the Queen. The night following, I slept little ; my head was so full of this our former talk, and I so mindful somewhat to satisfy the hon- est request of so dear a friend. I thought to prepare some little treatise for a New-years' gift that Christmas : but, as it chanceth to busy builders, so, in building this my poor school-house, (the rather because the form of it is somewhat new, and differing from others,) the work rose daily higher and wider, than I thought it would at the beginning. And though it appear now, and be in very deed, but a small cot- tage, poor for the stuftj and rude for the workmanship; yet in o-oing forward I found the site so good, as I was loth to give it over; but the making so costly, out-reaching my ability, as many times I wished that some one of those three, my dear friends, with full pur.ses. Sir, Tho. Smith, M. Iladdon, or M. Watson had had the doing of it. Yet nevertheless, I myself spending gladly that little, that I gat at home by good Sir John Cheke, and that I borrowed abroad of my fi'iend Sturmius,'^ beside somewhat that was left me in reversion, by my old Masters Plato, Aristotle and Cicero, I have at last patched it up, as I could, and as you see. If the matter be mean, and meanly handled, I pray you bear both with me, and it; for never work went up in • Bisliop of Ely, and Loni Chancellor under Edward, VI. ASCHAM'S SCHOOLMASTKR. 4g worse weather, with more lets and stojjs, than this poor school-house of mine. Westminster-Hall can bear some witness, beside* much weakness of body, but more trouble of mind, by some such sores, as •grieve me. to touch them myself; and therefore I purpose not to open them to others. And in the midst of outward injuries, and inward cares, to increase them withal, good Sir Richaixl Sackville di(jth, that worthy gentleman ; "That earnest ftivorer and furtherer of God's true Religion ; tliat faithful servitor to his prince and country ; a lover of learning, and all learned men ; wise in all doings ; courteous to all persons, shewing spite to none, doing good to many ; and as I well found, to me so fast a friend, as I never lost the like before." When he was gone, my heart was dead ; there was not one that wore a black gown for him, who carried a heavier heart for him, than I ; when he was gone, I cast this book away ; I could not look upon it, but with weeping eyes, in remembring him, who was the on- ly setter on, to do it ; and would have been not only a glad commen- der of it, but also a sure and certain comfort to me, and mine for it. Almost two years together, this book lay scattered and neglected, and had been quite given over of me, if the goodness of one had not given me some life and spirit again. God, the mover of goodness, prosper always him and his, as he hath many times comforted me and mine, and, I trust to God, shall comfort more and more. Of whom most justly I may say, and very oft, and always gladly I am wont to say, that sweet verse of Sophocles, spoken by Oedipus to worthy Theseus. "E^^cd yap a "p^w Sid (fl, xsx aXXov ^poTwv.j- This hope hath helped me to end this book ; which if he allow, I shall think my labors well employed, and shall not much esteem the misliking of any others. And I trust he shall think the better of it because he shall find the best part thereof to come out of his school whom he of all men loved and liked best. Yet some men, friendly enough of nature, but of small judgment in learning, do think I take too much pains, and spend too much time, in setting forth these childrens affiiirs. But those good men were never brought up in Socrates's school, who saith;]; plainly, " that no * Ingravescenle jam tetate. a nocturnis el pomeridianis studiis abhorrebal : Anlnlucanis el ma'utinis lemporibus legehat, commentahatuT. studchat, srrihrhat. Eral corpore imbecillia, el vaietudhiarius, multis mnrbis frnctus, continentibus /ebribus c.orrfptns,variis, agrota- lionif/KS ajflicncs ; qua pinicin ante mortem imnin eiim in htcl icamfebrim conjccerunt. This is taken out of Mr Grant's excellent Oration on Mr. Ascliam. (19 ) t Fur whatsoever I have, I have through thee, and through none other of living wen. (J) Piato in initio Theagis: AXXa fiiv S!], to AnfiioKe. koli XiyCTai ye trv/xSuXfi lepuv XP'il"^ tlvai. clvcp «v Kai aXXi? f)TisSv iiiv Icpa, Kat avrri av eirj, ncpi >jj ai vvv aVftj^nXtict. 'Ou yap In ncpl Stu deiOTcpu av afBpoiiroi ffuXeiaatTO, i"; -rrtni ITaiiltiaj /cui avTU, Kai TOJv avrS CtKcloiv. This Passage is cited by the Author, tho' not so fully. (16.) 4 ^n ARCIIAM'6 SCHOOLMASTER. man goeth about a more godly purpose, than lie that is mindful of the good bringing up both of his own and other men's children." Therefore, I trust, good and wise men will think well of this my doing. And of other, that think otherwise, I will think myself, they are but men, to be pardoned for their folly, and pitied for their igno- rance. In writing this book, I have had earnest respect to three special points, truth of religion, honesty in living, right order in learning. In which three ways, I pray God, my poor children may diligently walk ; for whose sake, as nature moved, and reason required, and ne- cessity also somewhat compelled, I was the willinger to take these pains. For, seeing at my death, I am not like to leave thera any great store of living, therefore in my life time, I thought good to bequeath unto them, in this little book, as in my will and testament, the right way to good learning : which if they follow, with the fear of God, they shall very well come to sufficiency of living. I wish also, with all my heart, that young Mr. Robert Sackville,'^ may take that fruit of this labor, that his worthy grandfather purposed he should have done : and if any other do take either profit or pleasure hereby, they have cause to thank Mr. Robert Sackville, for whom spe- cially this my schoolmaster was provided. And one thing I would have the reader consider in reading this book, that because no schoolmaster hath charge of any child, before he enter into his school ; therefore I leaving all former care, of their good bringing up, to wise and good parents, as a matter not belong- ing to the schoolmaster, I do appoint this my schoolmaster then, and there to begin, where his office and charge beginneth. Which charge lasteth not long, but until the scholar be made able to go to the University, to proceed in logic, rhetoric, and other kinds of learning. Yet if my schoolmaster, for love he bearcth to his scholar, shall teach him somewhat for his furtherance, and better judgment in learn- ing, that may serve him seven year after in the University, he doth his scholar no more wrong, nor deserveth no worse name thereby, than he doth in London, who selling silk, or cloth, unto his friend, doth give him better measure, than either his promise, or bargain was. Farewell in Christ. ANNOTATIONS ON ASCIIAM'S SCHOOLMASTER. ANNOTATIONS. 51 TuE idea of the Schoolmaster originated in the table-talk of a company "of wise and good men," who dined together in the chambers of Sir William Cecil, at Windsor Castle on the 10th ot December, 1563 ; — a company which Ascham says, " coiild hardly then be picked out again out of all England besides." (I.) Sir William Cecil, for forty years Secretary of State under Queen Eliza- beth, and raised to the peerage by the title of Baron of Burleigh, in 1571, was bom at Bourn, in Lincolnshire, September 13, 1520, — educated at the grammar school of Grantham and Stamford, at St. John's College, Cambridge, and at Gray'a Inn, London, — was married to a sister of Sir John Cheke, in 1541, and on her death in 1 543, to a daughter of Sir Anthony Cook in 1545, and wa.s largely concern- ed in the public affahs of his country and age. He was a hard student in early life, a thoughtful reader of books, as well as observer of men, wise and moderate in his political measure.?, and never unmindful of his family and social duties in his anxioua labors for the state. Much light is thrown on the domestic habits of Lord Bur- leigli, in the "Diary of a Domestic" — or "f/ie Complete Statesman" as it is entitled by the writer, who describes liimself as having " lived with him durint; the last twenty-five years of his life." " His kindness, as nature ever leads all men, was most expressed to his chil- dren ; if he could get his table set round with his young little children, he was then in his kingdom ; and it was an exceeding pleasure to hear what sport lie would make with them, and how aptly and meiTily he would talk with them, — witli such pretty questions and witty allurements, as much delighted himself, tho children, and the hearers. * * He had his own children, grand children, and great grand children, ordinarily at his table, sitting about him like olive brandies. * * He was of spare and temperate diet, * * and above all things, what busi- ness soever was in his head, it was never percieved at his table, where he would be so merry, as one would imagine he had nothing else to do; directing his speech to all men according to tlieir qualities and capacities, so as he raised mirth out of all men's speeches, augmenting it with his own, whereby he was never in want of company, so long as lie was able to keep companj'. * * His recrea- tion was chiefly'in his books, wherewith if he had time, he was more delighted than others with play at cards. * Books were so pleasing to him, as when ho got liberty from the queen to go unto his countrj- house to take air, if lie found but a book worth t!ie opening, ho would rather lose his riding than his reading. And yet riding in his garden and walks, upon his little mule, was his greatest disport. But, so soon as he came in, he fell to liis reading again, or else to dis- patcliing of business. * * * His favorite book was Cicero's Offices. His kindness of nature was seen in his declaration that he entertained malice to- ward no individual, and tlianked God that he never retired to rest cut of charily witli any man." While appreciating the advantages of the best education, and striving to secure them at any price for his own children, Lord Burleigh deemed " human learning, without the fear of God, of great hurt to all youth." With the most profound reverence for " divine and moral documents," his " Advices to his son, Robert Cecil," are characterized by the shrewdest worldly wisdom. Son Roliert, Tlie virtuous inclinations of thy matchless mother,* by whose tender and godly caro t!iy infancy was governed, tOL'elher with thy education under so zealous and exccllonl a tutor, puts me in rather as.surance than hope that thou art not ignorant of that siim- Tr.wn bonum which is only able to make thee happy as well in thy death as in thy life ; I ♦Lady Burleigh, was one of live daii^'liters of Sir Aiitliony Cook. iir(cr|itor of Kdward VI., a!l of whom were d.stin^'ui^lied for their mental acconiplislinieuiK, and for tlieir exemplary demeanor as mothers of faniiheK. Her death, af>er sharhig his foiUiiiis i'>t forlytliree years, Lord Burleigli regarded as the great calamity ni his life. 52 ANNOTATIONS ON ASCIIAMS SCHOOLMASTER. mean the true knowledge and worship of thy Creator and Redoempr ; without which all other things are vain and miserable. So that thy youth being guided by so sufficient a teacher, I make no doubt that he will furnish thy life with divine and moral doctiments. Yet, that I ni.ny not cast off the care beseeming a parent toward his child, or that thou stiouldest have cause to derive thy whole felicity and welfare rather from others than from whence thou receivedst thy breath and being, I think it fa and agreeable to the af- fection 1 bare thee, to help thee with -such rules and advertisements for the squaring o£ Ihy life as are rather gained by experience than by much re;uliug. To the end that, en- tering into this exorbitant age, thou rnayest be the better prepared to shun those scan- d.ilous courses whoreunto the world, and the lack of experience, may easily draw thee, nnd because I will not confound thy memory, I have reduced them into ten precepts ; and, next unto Moses' Tallies, if thou imp.'-int them in thy mind, thou shalt reap the benefit, and I the content. And they are these following:— I. When it shall please God to bring thee to man's estate, ose great providence and. ciicumspection in choosing thy wife ; for from thence will spring all thy future good or evil. And it is an action of thy life like unto a stratagem of war, wherein a man can err but once. If thy estate be good, match near home and at leisure ; if weak, far off and quickly. Inquire diligently of her disposition, and how her parents have been in- clined in their youth. Let her not be poor, how generous* soever ; for a man can buy- nothing in the market with gentility. Nor choose a base and uncomely creature alto- gether for wealth ; for it will cause contempt in others and loathing in thee. Neither make a choice of a dwarf or a fool ; for by the one thou shalt beget a race of pigmies; the other will be thy continual disgrace ; and it will yirkef thee to hear her talk. For ihou shalt find it to thy great grief, that there is nothing more fulsomcj than a she-fool. And touching the guiding of thy house, let thy hospitality be moderate, and, accor- ding to the means of thy estate, rather plentiful than sparing, but not costly ; for I nev- er knew any man grow poor by keeping an orderly table. But some consume them- selves through secret vices, and their hospitality ueais the blame. But banish swinish drunkards out of thine house, which is a vice impairing health, consuming much, and makes no show. I never heard jiraise ascribed to the drunkard but the well-bearing his drink, which is a belter commendation for a brewer's horse or a drayman than for ei- ther a gentleman or a serving man. Beware thou spend not above three or four parts of thy revenues, nor above a third part of that in thy house ; for the other two parts will do no more than defray thy cxtraordinaries, which always surmount the ordinary b;^ much ; otherwise thou shalt live, like a rich beggar, in continual want. And the needy man can never live happily nor contentedly; for every disaster makes him ready to mortgage or sell. And that gentleman who sells an acre of land sells an ounce of cred- it ; for gentility is nothing else but ancient riches. So that, if the foundation shall at any time sink, the building must needs follow. So much for the first prcct-pt. II. Bring thy children up in learning and obedience, yet without outward austerity. Praise ihcra openly, reprehend them secretly. Give tiiem good countenance, and con- venient maintenance, according to thy ability ; otherwise tiiy life will seem their bond- age, and what portion thou shalt leave them at thy death they will thank death for it, and not thee. And I am persuaded that the foolish cockering^ of some parents, and the over-stern carriage of others, causeth more men and women to take ill courses than their own vicious inclinations. Marry thy daughters in time lest they marry themselves And suffer not thy sons to pass the Alps ; for they shall learn nothing but pride, bias phemy, and atheism || And if by travel they get a few broken languages, that shall profit ihein nothing more than to have one meat served in divers dishes. Neither, by my consent, shall thou train ihcm up in wars ; for he that sets up his rest to live by I'.iat profession can hardly be an honest man or a good christian. Besides, it is a sci- ence no longer in request than use. For soldiers in peace are like chimneys in summer. III. Live not in the country without corn and cattle about thee ; for he that putteth •Well-boru. t Irk. J Disgusting. § Ovurindulgeuce. i li', this strong aversion to foreign travel, A:;cham symj'-atLized. ANNOTATIONS ON ASCIIAMS SCHOOLMASTER. 53 his lianJ to the parse for every expense of household, is lilie hirn that keepcth water in a sieve. And what provision liiou shall want, learn to buy it at the best hand ; for there is one penny saved in four betwixt Inlying in thy need and when tlie markets and seasons serve fittest for it. Be not served with kinsmen, or friends, or men intreated. to stay ; for they expect much, and do little ; nor with such as are amorous, for theic heads are intoxicated. And keep rather two too few, than one too many. Feed them well, and pay them with the most ; and then thou mayest boldly require service at their hands. IV. Let thy kindred and allies be welcome to thy house and talilc. Grace them with thy countenance, and further Ihem in all honest actions ; for, by this means, thou shall so double the band of nature, as thou shall find them so many advocates to plead an apology for thee behind thy ijack. But shake off those glow-worms, 1 mean para- sites and sycophants, who will feed and fawn upon thee in the summer of prosperity ; but, in an adverse storm, they will shelter thee no more than an arbor in winter. V. Beware of suretyship for thy best friends. He that payelh another man's debt seeketh his own decay. But if thou canst not otherwise choose, rather lend thy money thyself upon good bonds, although thou borrow it. So shall thou secure thyself, an J pleasure thy friend. Neither borrow money of a neighl)or or a friend, but of a stranger ; where j)aying for it, thou shall hear no more of it. Otherwise thou shall eclipse thy credit, lose thy freedom, and yet pay as dear as to another. But in borrowing oF money be precious of thy word ; for he that hath care of keeping days of payment is lord of another man's jiurse. VI. Undertake no suit against a pogr man with receiving* much wrong ; for besides that tliou raakest him thy compeer, it is a base conquest to triumph where there is small resistance. Neither attempt law against any man before thou be fully resolved that thou hast right on thy side ; and then spare not for either money or pains ; for a cause or two so followed and obtained will free thee from suits a great part of thy life. VII. Be sure to keep sonic great man thy friend, but trouble him not for trifles- Compliment him often with many, yet small gifts, and of little charge. And if thou hast cause to bestow any great gratuity, let it be something which may be daily in sight: otherwise, in this ambitious age, thou shall remain like a hop without a pole, liveia oljscurity, and be made a foot-ball for every insulting companion to spurn at. VIII. Toward thy superiors be humble, yet generous. t With thine equals fami'inr yet respective. Toward thine inferiors show much humanity, and some familiarity : es to bow the body, stretch forth the hand, and to uncover the head ; with such like jiopulai comi)liments. The first prepares thy way to advancement, — the second makes tliee known for a man well bred, — the third gains a good report; which, once got, is easily kept. For right humanity lakes such deep root in the minds of the multitude, rs ihey are more easily pained by unprofitable curtesies than by churlish ijenefits. Yt t ] advise thee not to affect, or neglect, popularity too much. Seek not to be Essex : Bliun to lie Raleigh () IX. Trust not any man with thy life, credit or estate. For it is mere folly for a mnit 1o enthral himself to his friend, as though occasion being offered, he should not darf? 1(1 become an enemy. X. Be not scurrilous in conversation, nor satirical in thy jests. The one will mako thee unwelcome to all company ; the other pull on quarrels, and get the haired of thy liesl friends For suspicious jests, when any of them savor of truth, leave a biiternes.s of mind of those which are touched. And, allieil I have already pointed at this inclu- sively, yet I think it necessary to leave it to thee as a special caution ; l)ecause I have sr< n many so prone to quip and gird, J as they would rather lose their friend than their jest And if perchance their boiling brain yield a quaint scoff, they will travel to be delivered of it as a woman with child. These nimble fancies are but the froth of w it." * Tliougti you receive. t Not mean. t Mock and libe. § Ei-fex was the idol of the people, his rival, Raleigh, their aversion, till liis undeserved misforlunee attracted tlieir compassion, and his heroism their applause. 54 ANNOTATIONS ON ASCHAM'S SCHOOLMASTER. (2.) Sir "WaLiAM Peter, (or Petre.) — born at Exeter, and educated at Exe- ter College, Cambridge, — employed in visitation of the monasteries, obtained grants of many Abbey lands, was knighted and made secretary of state under Henry VIII., and died in 1572. He was a liberal benefactor to Exeter and All Soul's College. (3.) Sir John Mason was born of obscure parents in Abingdon, but re- ceived a good education from his uncle, a monk of Abingdon Abbey, and at All Soul's College, and in consequence rose to important offices under Henry VIII., Edward IV., Queens Mary and Elizabeth. He was chancellor of the university of Oxford at the time of his death. His maxim was, "DO, and say Nothing." He endowed liberally a hospital at Abingdon. (4.) Nicholas "Wotton, Doctor of Laws, and Dean of Canterbury, was a man of great abilities, and an intimate friend of Lord Burleigh, and employed by him in many important embassies to foreign princes, and was privy counselor to Henry VIII., Edward VI., and Queens Mary and Elizabeth, — secretary of state to Edward VI., and declined the offer of being made Archbishop of Canter- bury by Queen Elizabeth. He died poor, when so many public men became rich in sequestration of abbey property. (5.) Sir Robert Sackville, " although not himself a scholar, was a lover of . learning, and all learned men;" and in his descendants, for many generations, the office of patron seemed hereditary. The name of his grandson, Charles, Earl of Dorset comes down to us loaded with the panegyrics of poets and artists whom he befriended. Prior's dedication to his son, is one of the most elegant panegyr- ics in the English language, and Pope's Epitaph will make Dorset longer remem- bered than all of his own writings. (6.) Walter Mildmat was educated at Christ College, Cambridge, of which he afteward became a benefactor. He was knighted by Edward VI., and made chancellor of the exchequer in 1556 by Elizabeth. He was a man of learning, and an encourager of learning. He founded Emanuel College, Cambridge, where many of the early Puritan divines of New England, Hooker, Stone, Davenport and others, were educated. Of his benefactions to this college, he said to Queen Ehzabeth, who was suspicious of the puritan tendencies of some of the professors, " I have set an acorn, which, when it becomes an oak, God only knows what will be the fruit thereof" The fruit borne by this college was far from being acceptable to the church party in King James' reign. In the song of the " Mad Puritan," written by the witty Bishop Corbet the hero sings : "In the house of pure Emanuel 1 had my Education, Where some surmise, I dazzled my eyes With the light of revelation. Bravely I preach Hate cross, hate surplice, Mitres, copes and rochets. Come, hear me pray Nine times a day, And fill your heads vrith crotchets." (7.) "Walter Hadden, who became Master of Requests under Queen Eliza- beth, Judge of the Prerogative Court of Canterbury, and Commissioner at the royal visitation of the University of Cambridge, was bom in Buckinghamshire, in 1516, was educated at Eton, and King's College, Cambridge, where he waa ANNOTATIONS ON ASCHAM'S SCHOOLMASTER. 55 professor of rhetoric and oratory', and, at one time, master of Trinity College. He stood amongst the foremost as a Latin scholar, and Queen Elizabeth, when ask- ed which she preferred, Hadden or Buchanan, rephed — " Buchananum omnibus antepono; Haddonum, nemini postpone." He was the principal compiler of the "Reformatio Legum Ecclesiasticarum." He died in 1572. (8.) Mr. John Astelt, or Asterly, Master of the Jewel House, was the author of a treatise on Eiding, entitled — " Tlie Art of Riding, set forth in a Briefe, with a due Interpretation of certain places, alledged out of Zenophon and Gryson, very expert and excellent Horsemen : wherein also the trtie use of the Hand by the said Gryson^ s Rules and Precepts is shown." 1584. (9.) Mr. Bernard Hampton was educated at Cambridge, and clerk of the Privy Council. (10.) M. XiCAsrus was a Greek of Constantinople, who visited England in the time of Queen Elizabeth, partly to promote a union between the Greek Church and the Church of England, and partly to collect what charity he could for the distressed Christians of his own country. (1 1.) Roger Ascham, in respect to scholarship, knowledge of the world, and conversational talent, was second to no one in the goodly company of eminent :and learned men assembled that day in the chambers of Sir William Cecil. (12.) Beating was early recognized as an essential part of an English insti- tution of learning, and neither prince or pew was spared the salutary infliction of the rod. Ardibishop Anselm protested against its use in 1070, as calculated to " convert men into brutes," and, in the " Paston Letters," Mrs. Agnes Paston instructs Mr. Greenfield, tutor of her son, "to truly belash him until he will amend." In the same curious collection will be found the articles by which the Earl of Warwick, when he took charge of Henry VL, binds the Earl of Glou- cester and the Council to stand by him " in chastising him, (the young king,) in his defaults," although he should " in conceit of his high and royal authority " " loathe the chastening." "We shall have more to say on this topic hereafter. (13.) Sir Thomas SxnxH, for a time Provost of Eton College, and university orator at Cambridge, was born in 1514, and educated at Queen's College, and cooperated with Sir John Cheke in introducing the pronunciation of Greek, as advocated by Erasmus. He was author of a treatise on a reformation of the spelling of the English languge, entitled " De recta et emendata lingua AnglicoR Scripturce." In 1548 he was advanced to the ofiQce of secretary of state, and knighted. In 1578 he was the author of an act of Parliament, by which the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, and the two colleges of Eton and Win- chester, were authorized to require in their leases that a third part of the old rent should be paid in kind ; a quarter of wheat for each 6s. 8d, or a quarter of malt for every 5s; or that the lessee should pay for the same according to the price that wheat and malt should be sold for, in the market next adjoining to the respective colleges, on the market day before the rent comes due. (14.) Sir John Cheke, whom Ascham characterizes as "one of the best scholars " and " the conningest masters of his time," was born in Cambridge in 1514, was educated at St. John's College, which he afterward, as professor, as- sisted to build up to be the chief seat of learning, especially in Greek, and where he trained such scholars as Cecil, Ascham, lladden. Bill, &c.; was en- trusted with the education of Prince Edward, by whom, when he became King, he was knighted, made Privy Councilor, and one of his Secretaries of State ; 5Q ANNOTATIONS ON ASCIIAM'S SCHOOLMASTER. served in several educational and ecclesiastical commissions ; promoted the ap- pointment of good men to office ; became involved in the civil and theological troubles of his times; and died in 1557, at an ago when his country had most to expect from his learning and experience. lie was a great promoter of the study of Greek, and its correct pronunciation, and labored with his friend, Sir Thomas Smith to give prominence to the Saxon elerrtent in the English language, and to rid its orthography of many of its anomalies. For this purpose he made a new translation of the Gospel of St. Matthew, in which he strove to use only English Saxon words. See Strype's Life of Sir J. Cheke. (15.) John Sturm, or Sturmius, was bom at Sclileiden, near Cologne, was educated at Liege, Louvain and Paris, and for forty-five years was rector of the gymnasium and college at Strasburg, which he established and made the best classical school in Europe. He was much consulted in the drafting of Bchool-codes, and in the organization of gymnasia^ and his " Plan for organizing institutions of learning," his "Classic Letters," addressed to the teachers of hia own school, and his editions of classic authors, entitle him to a prominent place in tlie history of " Pedagogics." Raumer, in his " History of the Science and Art of Teaching," devotes a chapter to StuHrm's system of education. (IG.) Theages is not considered by many scholars worthy of Plato, and its authorship is attributed to Antipater, the teacher of Panietius, and the discipla of Diogenes of Babylon. Theages desired " to become a wise man," to the great trouble of his^ father, Demodocus, who resorts to Socrates for counsel. Socrates replies in the lan- guage of the proverb, applied to those who came to counsel the oracles " Counsel, Demodocus, is said to he a sacred thing f^ and then adds, " If then any other consultation is sacred, this is so, about which you are now considering. For there is not a thing, about which a person may consult, more divine than about the instruction of himself and of those related to him." After probing the young man by questions, Socrates concludes to receive him into his companionship. (17.) Plato in the Dialogues on the Republic, exhibits the misery of man let loose from law, and a general plan for making him subject to law, as the sure way of perfecting liis nature. In the seventh dialogue, from which Ascham quotes, Plato unfolds the province of a good early education, in turning the eyes of the mind from the darkness and uncertainty of popular opinion, to the clear light of truth, and points out some of the uses of mathematics and gymnastics, in quickening and enlarging the apprehension, and inuring to intense application. In this connection he asserts : '■'Every thing then relating to arithmetic and geometry, and all the previoiis in- struction which they should receive before they learn dialectics, ought to be set before them while they are children, and on such a plan of teaching, that they may leai-n without compuhion. Why so f Became, said J, a free man ought to acquire no training under slavery ; for the labors of the body when endured through compul- sion do not at aU deteriorate the body ; but for the soul, it can endure no compukory discipline. True, said he. Do not then, said I, my best of friends, force boys to their learning ; but train them up by amusement, that you may be better able to discern the character of each one's genius." This, too, was the doctrine of Quintilian, in Inst. Lib. 1. c. 1, 20: — Nam id in primis cavere oportobit, ne studia, qui amare nondum potest, odcrit et amaritu- dinem semel perceptam etiam ultra rudes annos reformidet. THE SCHOOLMASTER. [Abstract of the First Book of Ascham's Sclioolmaster.J BOOK I. THE BRIXGING DP OF YOUTH. The title of the first book of the Schoolmaster describes it as " Teaching the Bringing up of Youth;" and it may be said to treat of the general principles according to which the education of children at school ought to be conducted. Much of it has, hosvever, a particular reference to what was then, as it is still, in England, the usual commencement of a liberal education, the study of the Latin tongue, — a subject which is exhaustively treated in the second book and wUl be omitted in this abstract of the first. The author then proceeds to the proper subject of this portion of his work, the general manner and temper in which the instruction of youth ought to be conducted ; — " If j-our scholar do miss sometimes, in marking rightly these foresaid six things, chide not hastilj^ j for that shall both dull his wit, and discourage his diligence ; but mouish him gently, which shall make him both willing to amend and glad to go forward in love, and hope of learning. I have now wished twice or thrice this gentle nature to be in a schoolmaster. And that I have done so, neither by chance nor without some reason, I will uow declare at large why in mine opinion love is fitter than fear, gentleness better than beating, to bring up a child rightly in learning. "With the common use of teaching, and beating in common schools of England, I will not greatly contend; which if I did, it were but a small gram- matical controversy, neither belonging to heresy nor treason, nor greatly touch- ing God nor the prince, although in very deed, in the end, the good or ill bringing up of children, dotlf as much serve to tlie good or ill service of God, our Prince, and our whole country, as any one thing doth beside. I do gladly agree with all good schoolmasters in these points; to have children brought to good perfectncss in learning, to all honestj' in manners ; to have all faults rightly amended; to have every vice severely corrected. But for the order and way that leadeth rightly to these points, we somewhat differ ; for commonly many schoolmasters, some as I have seen, more as I have heard tell, be of so crooked a nature, as when they meet with a hard-witted scholar, they rather break him than bow him, rather mar him than mend him. For when the schoolmaster is angry with some other matter, then will he soonest fall to beat his scholar ; and though he himself should be punished for his foll\-, yet must he beat some scholar for his pleasure, though there be no cause for him to do so, nor yet fault in the scholar to deserve so. These, ye will say, be fond schoolmasters, and few they be, that be found to be such. They be fond, indeed, but surely over many such bo found every where. But this will I say, that even the wisest of your great beaters do as 58 ASCIIA.M-S SCHOOLiMASTER. oft punisli nature, as they do correct faults. Tea, many times the bettor nature is sorer punished. For, if ono by quickness of wit take his lesson readily, another by hardness of wit taketh it not so speedily ; the first is always com- mended; the other is commonly punished : when a wise schoolmaster should rather discreetly consider the right disposition of both their natures, and not so much weigh what either of them is able to do now, as what either of them is likely to do hereafter. For this I know, not only by reading of books in my study, but also by experience of life abroad in the world, that those which be com- monly the wisest, the best learned, and best men also, when they be old, were never commonly the quickest of wit when they were young. The causes why, amongst other, which be many, that move me thus to think, bo these few which 1 will reckon. Quick wits commonly be apt to take, unapt to keep ; soon hot, acid desirous of tliis and that ; as soon cold, and weary of the same again ; more quick to enter speedily, than able to pierce far ; even like our sharp tools, whose edges be very soon turned. Such wits delight themselves in easy and pleasant studies, and never pass far forward in high and hard sciences. And therefore the quickest wits commonly may prove the best poets, but not the wisest orators : ready of tongue to speak boldy, not deep of judgment, either for good counsel, or wise writing. Also for manners and life, quick wits commonly be, in desire, new-fangled ; in purpose, unconstant, light to promise anything, ready to forget everything, both benefit and injury; and thereby neither fast to friend, nor fearful to foe; inquisitive of every trifle, not secret in the greatest aSiurs; bold with any person ; busy in every matter ; soothing such as be present, nipping any that is absent ; of nature also always flattering their betters, envying their equals, despising their inferiors ; and by quickness of wit, very quick and ready to like none so well as themselves. Moreover, commonly, men very quick of wit be also very light of conditions; and thereby very ready of disposition to be carried over quickly by any light company to any riot and uutlirifiiness when they be young; and therefore seldom either honest of life, or rich in living when they be old. For quick in wit, and light in manners, be either seldom troubled, or very soon weary in carrj-ing a very heavy purse. Quick wits also be in most part of all their doings over quick, hasty, rash, heady, and brainsick. These two last words, heady and brainsick; be fit and proper words, rising naturally of the matter, and termed aptly by the condition of over-much quickness of wit. In youth also they be ready scoffers, privy mockers, and ever over light and merry ; in age, soon testy, very waspish, and always over miserable. And yet few of them come to any great age, by reason of their misordered life when they were young ; but a great deal fewer of them come to show any great countenance, or bear any great authority abroad in the world ; but either live obscurely, men know not how, or die obscurely, men mark not when. They be like trees, that show forth fair blossom and broad leaves in springs time, but bring out small and not long-lasting fruit in harvest time; and that only such as fall and rot before they be ripe, and so never or seldom come to any good at all. For this you shall find most true by experience, that amongst a number of quick wits in youth, few be found in the end either very fortunate for themselves, or very profitable to serve the commonwealth, but decay and vanish, men know not which way ; except a very few, to whom peradventure blood and happy parentage may perchance purchase a long standing upon the ASCIIAM'S SCHOOLMASTER. 59 stage. The which felicity, because it cometh by others' procuring, not by their own deserving, and stands by other men's feet, and not by their own, what outward brag soever is borne by them, ia indeed of itself, and in wise men's eyes, of no great estimation." The author here gives it as his opinion, that there are certain sciences by the over-much study and use of which " some wits, moderate enough by nature, be many times marred." The sciences against which he thus warns moderate wits are music (in which he is said to have been himself a proficient,) arithmetic, and geometry." "Tliese sciences," he says, "as they sharpen men's wits overmuch, 80 they change men's manners over sore, if they bo not moderately mingled, and wisely applied to some good use of life. Mark all mathematical heads, which be only and wholly bent to those sciences, how solitary they be them- selves, how unfit to live with others, and how unapt to serve in the world." In support of this notion he quotes Galen, Plato, and Cicero, as all condemning much music, on the ground that it "marreth men's manners;" and he refers to what he had himself written .more at large on the matter, twenty years ago, in liis Book of Shooting. The passage in the Toxophilus is curious as giving the grounds on which Ascham appears to have taken up these opinions. He there observes that "lutes, harps, barbitons, sambukes, with other instruments, every one which standeth by fine and quick fingering, be condemned of Aristotle, as not to be brought in and used among them which study for learning and virtue." Music, he thinks, doth to a man's mind, " as honey doth to a man's stomach, which at first receiveth it well, but afterward it maketh it unfit to abide any strong nourishing meat, or else any wholesome, sharp, and quick drink. And even so in a manner these instruments make a man's wit so soft and smooth, so tender and quaisy, that they be less able to brook strong and tough study. Wits be not sharpened, but rather dulled, and made blunt with such sweet softness, even as good edges be blunted, which men whet upon soft chalk stones." In the present work he contends, generally, that "overmuch quickness of wit, either given by nature, or sharpened by study, doth not commonly bring forth either greatest learning, best manners, or happiest life in the end." The sense in which he makes this proposition, as well as the reasons by which he defends it, will be understood from the passage that follows: — " Contrarywise, a wit in youth that is not over dull, heavy, knotty, and lumpish ; but hard, tough, and though somewhat staffish, (as Tully wisheth otium quiduin non languidum, and negoiium cum lahore, non cum 2)ericulo,)* such a wit, I say, if it be at the first well handled by the mother, and rightly smoothed and wrought as it should, not overthwartly and against the wood by the schoolmaster, both for learning and whole course of living, proveth always the best. In wood and stone, not the softest, but hardest, be always aptest for portraiture, both fairest for pleasure, and most durable for profit. Hard wits be hard to receive, but sure to keep ; painful without weariness, heedful without wavering, constant without newflmgleness ; bearing heavy things, though not lightly, yet willingly; entering hard thing.s, though not easily, yet deeply; and so come to that pcrfectness of learning in the end, that quick wits seem in hope, but do not in deed, or else very seldom, ever attain unto. " t. e. Leisure wliicli is quiet, but not languid ; and business attended with exertion, but not with danger. go ASCHAM'S SCHOOLMASTER. Also for manners and life, hard wits commonly are hardly carried, either to desire every new thing, or else to marvel at every strange thing. And therefore they be careful and diligent in their own matters, not curious and busy in other men's affairs ; and so they become wise themselves, and also are counted honest by others. They be gr^ve, steadfast, silent of tongue, secret of heart ; not hasty in making, but constant in lt\6rrovor, that is, should have " a lust to labor, and a will to take pains ; for if a child have all the benefits of nature, with perfection of memory, love, life, and praise learning never so much ; yet if he be not of himself painful, he shall never attain unto it. And yet where love is present, labor is seldom absent, and namely in study of learning, and matter of the mind. Fifthly, he mu.st bo *t'>/j/coor, that is, "glad to hear and learn of another; for otherwise he shall stick with great trouble, where he might go easUy forward ; and also catch hardly a very little by his own toil, when he might gatbei quickly a good deal by another man's teaching." The sixth mark is that he be ZrirririKds, that is, "naturally bold to ask any question, desirous to search out any doubt; not ashamed to learn of the mean- est, nor afraid to go to the greatest, until he be perfectly taught and fully satisfied." Lastly, the author (employing, however, a word which is not in Plato) enumerates as one of the characteristics demanded in the child by Socrates, that he be iX£7raiyoj, that is, one " that loveth to be praised for well doing at his father or master's hand." "And thus," he concludes, "by Socrates' judgment, a good father and a wise schoolmaster should choose a child to make a scholar of, that hath by nature the foresaid perfect qualities and comely furniture both of mind and body ; hath memory quick to receive, svu"e to keep and ready to deliver; hath love to learning; hath lust to labor; hath desire to learn of others; hath boldness to ask any question ; hath mind wholly.bent to win praise by well doing. The two first of these qualities he considers to be special benefits of nature, yet to be preserved and much increased by discipline. The five last are to be wholly won and maintained by the wisdom and discretion of the schoolmaster. "Which five points," he proceeds, "whether a schoolmaster shall work sooner in a child by fearful beating, or courteous handling, you that be wise, judge. Tet some men, wise indeed, but, in this matter, more by severity of nature than any wisdom at all, do laugh at us when we thus wish and reason, that young children should rather be allured to learning by gentleness and love, than compelled to learning by beating and fear. They say, "our reasons serve only to breed forth talk, and pass away the time ; but wo never saw good schoolmasters do so, nor never read of wise men that thought so." In opposition to this doctrine, Ascham quotes from Plato the precept of So- crates, that no learning ought to be learnt with bondage. " And why ?" ho adds of himself, "For whatsoever the mind doth learn unwillingly with fear, the same it doth gladly forget without care." He goes on to show that it is expressly of the teaching of children that Socrates in the passage quoted speaks. He then proceeds as follows : "Fond schoolmasters neither can understand, nor will follow this good counsel of Socrates; but wise riders in their office can, and will do both; which is the only cause that commonly the young gentlemen of England go so unwil- ASCHAM'S SCHOOLMASTER. 63 lingly to school, and run so fast to the stable. For in very deed, fond school- masters by fear do beat into them the hatred for learning; and wise riders, by gentle allurements, do breed up in them the love of riding. They find fear and bondage in schools, they feel liberty and freedom in stables; which causes them utterly to ablior the one, and most gladly to haunt the other. And I do not write this, that in exhorting to the one, I would dissuade young gentlemen from the other: yea I am sorry with all my heart that they be given no more to riding than they be. For of all outward qualities, to ride fair is most comely for himself, most necessary for his country ; and the greater he is in blood, the greater is his praise, the more he doth exceed aU other therein. It was one of the three excellent praises amongst the noble gentlemen, the old Persians: 'Always to say truth, to ride fair, and shoot well;' and so it was engraven upon Darius' tomb, as Strabo witnesseth: — Darius the king lielh buried here, Who in riding and shooting had never peer.-' He next takes up an objection which may be brought against his argument : " Yet some will say that children of nature love pastime, and mislike learning, because in their kind the one is easy and pleasant, the other hard and weari- some. "Which is an opinion not so true as some men ween. For the matter lieth not so much in the disposition of them that be young, as in the order and manner of bringing up' by them that be old ; nor yet in the difference of learnmg and pastime. For beat a child if he dance not well, and cherish him though he learn not well, ye shall have him unwilling to go to dance, and glad to go to his book ; knock him always when he draweth his shaft ill, and favor him again though he fault at his book, ye shall have him very loth to be in the field, and very willing to go to school. Yea, I say more, and not of myself, but by the judgment of those, from whom few wise men will gladly dissent, — that if ever the nature of man be given at "any time, more than other, to receive goodness, it is in innocency of young years, before that experience of evil haven taken root in him. For the pure clean wit of a sweet young babe is like the newest wax, most able to receive the best and fairest printing ; and like a new bright silver dish never occupied, to receive and keep clean any good thing that is put into it." Some further illustration follows of the facility with which impressions, whether good or evil, may be made upon the youthful mind ; and then comes a passage too interesting not to be given in full : — "And one example, whether love or fear doth work more in a child for virtue and learning, I will gladly report, which may be heard with some pleasure, and followed with more profit. Before I went into Germany, I came to Brodegate in Leicestershire, to take my leave of that noble Lady Jane Grey, to whom I was exceeding much beholden. Her parents, the Duke and Duchess, with all the household, gentle- men and gentlewomen, were hunting in the park. I found her in her chamber reading 'Phasdo Platonis,' in Greek, and that with as much delight as somo gentlemen would read a merry tale in Boccace. After salutation and duty done, with some other talk, I asked her why she would lose such pastime in the park ? Smiling, she answered me : ' I wist, all their sport in the park is but a shadow to that pleasure that I find in Plato. Alas! good folk, they 64 ASCHAM S SCHOOLMASTER. never felt what true pleasure meant.' ' And how came you, Madam,' quoth I, ' to this deep knowledge of pleasure ? And what did chiefly allure you unto it, seeing not many women, but very few men, have attained thereunto ?' ' I will tell you,' quoth she, 'and tell you a truth which perchance ye will marvel at. One of the greatest benefits that ever God gave me, is that he sent me so sharp and severest parents, and so gentle a schoolmaster. For when I am in pre- sence either father or mother, whether I speak, keep silence, sit, stand, or go, eat, drink, be merry, or sad, bo sewing, playing, dancing, or doing anything else, I must do it, as it were, in such weight, measure, and number, even so perfectly, as God made the world ; or else I am so sharply taunted, so cruelly threatened, yea presently sometimes with pinches, nips, and bobs, and other ways (which I will not name for the honor I bear them,) so without measure misordered, that I think myself in hell, till time come that I must go to Mr. Elmer, who teacheth me so gently, so pleasantly, with such fair allurements to learaing, that I think all the time nothing while I am with him. And when I am called from him, I fall on weeping, because whatsoever I do else, but learning, is full of grief, trouble, fear, and whole misliking unto me. And thus my book hath been so much my pleasure, and bringeth daily to me more plea- sure and more, that in respect of it all other pleasures in very deed be but trifles and troubles unto me.' I remember this talk gladly, both because it is so worthy of memory, and because also it was the last talk that ever I had, and the last time that ever I saw that noble and worthy lady." For a perfect discussion of this part of his subject, Aschara refers the reader to the treatise "De Institutione Principis," (On the Education of a Prince) ad- dressed by his friend John Sturmius to the Duke of Cleves. Although, how- ever, he is fur the use of gentleness rather than severity in the instruction of youth at school, he does not dispute the necessity of sharp chastisement by parents for correcting vicious habits in their children. I'his discipline was well known and diUigently used among the Grecians and old Romans ; as doth appear in Aristophanes, Isocrates, and Plato, and also in the commedies of Plautus ; where we see that chOdren were under the rule of three persons, a schoolmaster, governor, and father. The schoolmaster taught him learning with all gentleness; the governor corrected his manners with much sharpness ; the father held the stern of his whole obedience. And so he that used to teach did not commonly use to beat, but remitted that over to another man's charge. But what shall we say, when now in our days the schoolmaster is used both for preceptor in learning, and psedagogus in man- . ners ? Surely, I would he should not confound their oflices, but discreetly use the duty of both, so that neither ill touches should be left unpunished, nor gentleness in teaching anywise omitted. And he shall well do both, if wisely he do appoint diversity of time, and separate place, for either purpose ; usmg always such discreet moderation, as 'the school-house should be counted a sanctuary against fear ; and very well learning a common pardon for ill doing, if the fault of itself be not over heinous.' " The author considers the second great fault of English education in his time to be the license that was allowed to young men after ^leaving school. He contrasts with the prevailing manners, the more strict discipline of wise antiquity, when, for instance, "no son, were he never so old in year.-J, never so great in birth, though ho were a king's son, might marry but by his father's ASCIIAMS SCHOOLMASTER 65 and mother's consent." Having quoted to this effect the examples of Cyrus and Sampson, he exclaims; "Doth this modesty, doth this obedience that was in great King Cyrus, and strong Sampson, remain in our young men at this day ? No surely, for we live not longer after them by time, than we live far diflerent from them by good order. Our time is so far from that old discipline and obedience, as now not only young gentlemen, but even very girls, dare without all fear, though not without open shame, where they list, and how they list, marry themselves in -spite of father, mother, God, good order, and all." This evU he says, is peculiar to the children of the rich and great, as they deserve it should be. From seven to seventeen, young gentlemen are carefuUy enough brought up ; but from seventeen to seven-and-tweuty (which Xenophon calls the most dangerous time of all man's life, and most shppery to stay well in,) "they have commonly the rein of aU hcense in their own hand, and specially such as do Uve in the court." "And that," he adds, " which is most to be marvelled at, commonly the wisest, and also best men, be found the fondest fathers in this behalf. And if some good father will seek some remedy herein, yet the mother (if the household of our lady) had rather, yea, and will Lave her son cunning and bold, in making him to live trimly, when he is young, than by learnmg and travel to be able to serve his prince and his country, both wisely in peace, and stoutly in war, when he is old." "The fault is in yourselves, ye noblemen's sons, and therefore ye deserve the greater blame, that commonly the meaner men's children come to be the wisest counsellers, and greatest doers in the weighty affairs of this realm. And why? for God wiU have it so of his providence, because you will have it no otherwise by your negligence. And God is a good God, and wisest in all his doings, that will place virtue, and displace vice in those kingdoms where he doth govern. ' For he knoweth that nobility, without virtue and wisdom, is blood indeed, but blood truly without bones and sinews; and so of itself, without the other, very weak to bear the burthen of weighty affairs.' The greatest ship indeed commonly carrieth the greatest burthen, but yet always with the greatest jeopardy, not only for the persons and goods com- mitted unto it, but even for the ship itself, except it be governed with the greater wisdom. But nobility, governed by learning and wisdom, is indeed most like a fair ship, having tide and wind at will, under the rule of a skillful master; when contrarywise, a ship carried, yea with the highest tide and greatest wind, lacking a skillful master, most commonly doth either sink itself upon sands, or break itself upon rocks. And even so, how many have been either drowned in vain pleasure, or overwhelmed by stout willfulness, the histories of England be able to afford over many examples unto us. Therefore, ye great and noblemen's children, if ye will have rightly that praise, and enjoy surely that place, which your fathers have, and elders had, and left unto you, ye must keep it, as they gat it ; and that is, by the only wa}' of virtue, wisdom, and worthiness." In some passages that follow, the manners of the court, and the habits of thinking and judging that prevailed there, are very severely reprobated. There were then, indeed, the author allows, many fair examples in the English court for young gentlemen to follow ; "but they be," he says, "like fair marks in the field, out of a man's reach, too far ofl' to shoot at well." Young gentlemen 5 QQ A8CHAMS SCHOOLMASTER. who come to court are commonly obliged to associate with the worst des- cription of characters there. These are they who laugh at quietness of nature as simploness and lack of wit, and at bashful and blushing modesty as babyish- ness and ill-breeding. "What is learned from their company is, first, to bluah at nothing; "then followeth to dare do any mischief; to contemn stoutly any goodness; to be busy in every matter; to he skillful in every thing; to acknowledge no ignorance at all." " Moreover, " he continues, "where the swing goeth, there to follow, fawn, flatter, laugh, and lie lustily at other men's liking ; to face, stand foremost, shove back ; and to the meaner man, or un- known in the court, to seem somewhat solemn, coy, big, and dangerous of look, talk, and answer; to think well of himself, to be lusty in contemning of others, to have some trim grace in a privy mock : and, in greater presence, to bear a brave look ; to be warhke, though he never looked enemy in the face in war ; yet some warlike sign must be used, either a slovenly buskin, or an over-staring frounced head, as though out of every hair's top should suddenly start out a good big oath when need requireth. Yet, praised be God 1 England hath at tliis time many worthy captains and good soldiers, which be indeed so honest of behavior, so comely of conditions, so mild of manners, as they may be examples of good order to a good sort of others, which never came in war." Something, he considers, may be done to remedy these evils by good laws ; but the object is perhaps chiefly to be effected by " observing private discipline, every man carefully in liis own house ; and namely, if special regard be had to youth, and that not so much in teaching them what is good, as in keeping them from that that is ill." "In youth," he says, "some ignorance is as necessary as much knowledge;" "but this ignorance in youth," he adds, "which 1 speak on, or rather this simplicity, or most truly this innocency, is that which the noble Persians, as wise Xenophon doth testify, were so careful to breed up their youth in. But Christian fathers commonly do not so. "And to know what worthy fruit did spring of such worthy seed, I will tell you the most marvel of. all, and yet such a truth as no man shall deny it, ex- cept such as be ignorant in knowledge of the best stories. Athens, by this discipline and good ordering of youth, did breed up, within the circuit of that one city, within the compass of one hundred years, within the memory of one man's life, so many notable captains in war, for worthiness, wisdom, and learning, as be scarce matchable, no, not in the state of Rome, in the compass of those seven hundred years wjien it flourished most. And because I will not only say it, but also prove it, the names of them be these — Miltiades, Themistocles, Xantippus, Pericles, Cimon, Alcibiades, Thrasy- bulus, Conon, Iphicrates, Xenophon, Timotheus, Theopompus, Demetrius, and divers others more; of which every one may justly be spoken that worthy praise which was given to Scipio Africanus, who Cicero doubteth ' whether he were more noble captain in war, or more eloquent and wise counsellor in peace.' And if ye beheve not me, read dilligently JEmilius Probus* in Latin, and Plutarch in Greek, which two had no cause either to flatter or lie upon any of those which I have recited. And beside nobility in war, for excellent and matcirless masters in all manner of learning, in that one city, in memory of one age, were more learned men, and that in a manner altogether, than all time doth remember, than all place • lie means the lives now commonly liekl to be written by Cornelius Nepos. ASCHAM S SCHOOLMASTER. 67 doth afford, than all other tongues do contain. And I do not mean of those authors which by injury of time, by negligence of men, by cruelty of tire and sword, be lost, but even of those which by God's grace are left yet unto us, of which, I thank God, even my poor study lacketh not one. As in philosophy, Plato, Aristotle, Xenophon, Euclid, and Theophrast; in eloquence and civil law, Demosthenes, ^schines, Lycurgus, Dinarchus, Demades, Isocrates, Isajus, Lysias, Antisthenes, Andocides; in History, Herodotus, Thucydides, Xenophon, and which we lack, to our great loss, Theopompus and Ephorus ; in poetry, yEschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, Aristophanes, and somewhat of Monander Demosthenes' sister's son. The remembrance of such a commonwealth, using such discii^line and order for youth, and thereby bringing forth to their praise, and leaving to us for our example, such captains for war, suoh counsellors for peace, and matchless masters for all kind nf learning, is pleasant for me to recite, and not irksome, I trust, for others to hear, except it be such as make neither account of vu'tue nor learning. And whether there be any such or no, I cannot well tell ; yet I hear say, some young gentlemen of ours count it their shame to be counted learned, and perchance they count it their shame to be counted honest also, for I hear say they meddle as little with the one as with the other. A marvellous case, that gentlemen should be so ashamed of good learning, and never a whit ashamed of ill manners ! Such do say for them, that the gentlemen of France do so ; which is a lie, as God wiU have it. Langseus and Bellteus, that be dead, and the noble Vidam of Chartres, that is alive, and infinite more in France which I hear tell of, prove this to be most false. And though some in France, which will needs be gentlemen, whether men wUl or no, and have more gentleship in their hat than in their head, be at deadly feud with both learning and honesty ; yet I believe, if that noble prince, King Francis the First, were alive, they should have neither place in his court nor pension in his wars, if he had know- ledge of them. This opinion is not French, but plain Turkish, from whence some French fetch more faults than this, which I pray God keep out of Eng- land, and send also those of ours better minds, which bend themselves against virtue and learning, to the contempt of God, dishonor of their country, to tho hurt of many others, and at length to the greatest harm and utter destruction of themselves. Some others, having better nature, but less wit (for ill commonly have over- much wit,) do not utterly dispraise learning, but they say, that, without learning, common experience, knowledge of all fashions, and haunting all companies, shall work in youth both wisdom and ability to execute any weighty affair. Surely long experience doth profit much, but most, and almost only to him (if we mean honest affairs) that is dilligently before instructed with precepts of well-doing. For good precepts of learning be the eyes of the mind, to look wisely before a man which way to go right, and which not. Learning teacheth more in one year than experience in twenty ; and learning toacheth safely, when experience maketh more miserable than wise. Ho hazardeth sore that waxeth wise by experience. An unhappy master is ho that is made cunning by many shipwrecks; a miserable merchant, that is neither rich nor wise but after some bankrouts. It is costly wisdom that is bought by experience. We know by experience itself, that it is a marvellous pain to find out a short way but Ijy long wandering; and surely he that would 68 ASCHAM'S SCIIOOLMASTEE. prove wise by expcrieuce, he may be witty indeed, but even like a swift runner, that runneth fast out of the way, and upon the night, he knowcth not whither. And verily they be fewest in number that be wise by unlearned experience. And look well upon the former life of those few, whether your example be old or young, who, without learning, have gathered by long experience a little wisdom and some happiness ; and when you do consider what mischief they have committed, what dangers they have escaped (and yet twenty for one do perish in the adventure.) then think well with yourself whether ye would that your own son should come to wisdom and happiness by the way of such expe- rience or no. It is a notable tale, that old Sir Roger Chamloe, some time Chief-Justice, would tell of himself. "When he was Ancient in inn of court, certain young gentlemen were brought before him, to be corrected for certain misorders; and one of the lustiest said, 'Sir, we be young gentlemen; and wise men before ua have proved all fashions, and yet those have done full well.' This tliey said, because it was well known that Sir Roger had been a goodfellow in his youth. But he answered them very wisely. 'Indeed,' saith he, 'in youth I was as you are now; and I had twelve fellows like unto myself, but not one of tliera came to a good end. And therefore, follow not my example in youth, but follow my counsel in age, if ever ye think to come to this place or to these years that I am come unto, lest ye meet either with poverty or Tyburn in the way.' " Although thus jealous, however, of the effects of teaching by experience, and earnestly in favor of tlie method of at least laj-ing the foundations of knowledge in the young mind chiefly by learning and good bringing up, Ascham would by no means have the whole time of youth to be spent in study. " I do not mean, by all this my talk, that young gentlemen should always be poring on a book, and by using good studies should lose honest pleasure, and haunt no good pastime ; I mean nothing less. For it is well known that I both like and love, and have always, and do yet still use all exercises and pastimes that be fit for my nature and ability. And beside natural disposition, in judg- ment also I was never either Stoic in doctrine or Anabaptist in religion, to mislike a nierrj^, pleasant, and playful nature, if no outrage be committed against law, measure, and good order." "Therefore, to ride comely, to run fair at the tilt or ring, to play at all weapons, to shoot fair in bow, or surely in gun, to vault lustily, to run, to leap, to wrestle, to swim, to dance comely, to sing and play on instruments cun- ningly, to hawk, to hunt, to play at tennis, and all pastimes generally which bo joined with labor used in open place, and on the daylight, containing either some fit exercise for war, or some pleasant pastime for peace, be not only comely and decent, but also very necessary for a courtly gentlemen to use." Returning to the subject of joining learning with comely exercises, he highly recommends the work of Conto Baldesar Castiglione, entitled "II Cortigianto," (the Courtier,) as excellently translated into English by Sir Thomas Hobby, " which book," says he, " advisedly read and diligently followed but one year at home in England, would do a young gentleman more good, I wiss, than three years travel abroad spent in Italy." "But the English court," he adds, "has never lacked many fine examples for young gentlemen to follow." Among these he mentions the late King Edward, "and in the second degree, two nobla ASCHAM S SCHOOLMASTER. G9 primroses of nobility, the young Duke of Suffolk and Lord Henry Malavers," who, he says, " were two such examples to the court for learning, as our time may rather wish than look for again." At St. John's College, Cambridge, also, he commemorates Sir John Cheke and Dr. Redmayn as having, in his time, done more by their example than the good statutes of the college themselves did "to breed up learned men, of whom there were so manj-," says he, "in that one College of St. John's, at one time, as I believe the whole University of Lovain, in many years, was never able to afford." He then proceeds: "Present examples of this present time I list not to touch ; yet there is one example for all the gentlemen of this court to follow, .that may well satisfy them, or nothing will serve them, nor no example move them to goodness and learning. " It is your shame (I speak to you all, you young gentlemen of England,) that one maid should go beyond you all in excellency of learning and know- ledge of divers tongues. Point forth six of the best given gentlemen of this court, and all they together show not so much good will, spend not so much time, bestow not so many hours daily, orderly, and constantly, for the increase of learning and knowledge, as doth the Queen's Majesty herself Yea I believe, that beside her perfect readiness in Latin, Italian, French and Spanish, she readeth here now at Windsor more Greek every day than some prebendary of this church doth read Latin in a whole week. And that which is most j)raise- worthy of all, within the walls of her privy chamber, she hath obtained that excellency of learning to understand, speak; and write both wittily with head and fair with hand, as scarce one or two rare wits in both the Universities have in many years reached unto. Amongst all the benefits that God hath blessed me withal, next the knowledge of Christ's true religion, I count this the greatest, that it pleased God to call me to be one poor minister in setting for- ward these excellent gifts of learning in this most excellent Prince ; whoso only example, if the rest of our nobility would follow, then might England be, for learning and wisdom in nobility, a spectacle to all the world beside. But see the mishap of men ; the best examples have never such force to move to any goodness, as the bad, vain, light, and fond have to all illness." " Take heed, therefore, ye great ones in the Court, yea though ye be the greatest of all, take heed what ye do, take heed how ye live, for as you great ones use to do, so all mean men love to do. You be indeed makers, or marrers of all men's manners within the realm." Returning from this digression, the author states the sum of what he baa hitherto dehvered to be, " that from seven year old to seventeen, love is the best allurement to learning; from seventeen to seven-and-twenty, that wise men should carefully see the steps of youth surely staid by good order, in that most slippery time, and ^ecially in the court;" and he then proceeds as follows : — "Sir Richard Sackville, that worth}'- gentleman of worthy memory, as I said in the beginning, in the Queen's privy chamber at Windsor, after he had talked with me for the right choice of good wit in a cliild for learning ; and of the true difference betwixt quick and hard wits ; of alluring young cliildrcn by gentle- ness to love learning ; and of the special care that was to be had to keep young men from licentious living; he was most earnest with me to have me say my mind also what I thouglit concerning the fancy that many young gentlemen of 70 ASCHAMS SCHOOLMASTER. England have to travel abroad, and namely to lead a long life in Italy. Ilia request, both for his authority and good will toward me, was a sufficient com- mandment unto mo to satisfy his pleasure with uttering plainly my opinion in that matter. 'Sir,' quoth I, 'I take going thither, and living there, for a young gentleman, that doth not go under the keep and guard of such a man as both by wisdom can, and authority dare rule him, to be marvellous dangerous." * * "But to my matter; as I began plainly and simply with my young scholar, so will I not leave him, God willing, until I have brought him a perfect scholar out of the school, and placed him iu the University, to become a fit student for logic, and rhetoric, and so after to physic, law, or divinity, as aptnes^s of nature, advice of friends, and God's disposition shall lead him." II. THE READY WAT TO THE LATIN TONGUE. We shall commence an abstract of the Second Book of the Schoolmaster, by introducing the ofx^ning passages of the First, which were omitted in their place, as belonging more appropriately to the subject matter of this : "After the child hath learned perfectly the eight parts of speech, let him then learn the right joining together of substantives with adjectives, the noun with the verb, the relative with the antecedent. And in learning farther his syntaxis, by mine advice he shall not use the common order in common schools f.)r making of Latins, whereby the cliild commonly learneth, first, an evU choice of words (and 'right choice of words,' saith Caesar, 'is tlie foundation of elo- quence,') then a wrong placing of words, and, lastly, an ill framing of the sentence, with a perverse judgment both of words and sentences. These faults, taking once root in youth, be never, or hardly plucked away in age. Moreover, there is no one thing that hath more either dulled the wits or taken away the will of children from learning, than the care they have to satisfy their masters in making of Latins. For the scholar is commonly beat for the making, when the master were more worthy to be beat for the mending, or rather marring of the same, the master many times being as ignorant as the child what to say properly and fitly to the matter. Two schoolmasters have set forth in print, either of them, a book of such kind of Latins, Ilorman and "Whittington. A child shall learn of the better of them that which, another day, if he be wise and come to judgment, he must be fain to unlearn again. There is a way touched in the first book of Cicero de Oratore, which wisely brought into schools, truly taught, and constantly used, would not only take wholly away this butcherly fear in making of Latins, but would also with ease and pleasure, and in short tune, as I know by good experience, work a true choice and placing of words, a right ordering of sentences, an easy under- standing of the tongue, a readiness to speak, a facility to write, a true judgment both of liis own and other mens doings, what tongue soever he doth use. The way is this: After the three concordances learned, as I touched before, let the master read unto him the Epistles of Cicero, gathered together and chosen out by Sturmius for the capacity of children. First, let him teach the child cheerfully and plainly the cause and matter of the Letter : then let him construe it into English, so oft as the child may easily curry away the understanding of it ; lastly, parse it over perfectly. This done thus let the child, by and by, both construe and i)arse it over again ; so that it ASCHAM'S SCHOOLMASTER. Yl may appear that the child doubteth in nothing that his master taught him before. After this, the child must take a paper book, and sitting in some place where no man shall prompt him, by himself, let him translate into English his former lesson. Then, showing it to his master, let the master take from him his Latin book, and pausing an hour at least, then let the child translate his own English into Latin again in another paper book. When the child bringeth it turned into Latin, the master must compare it with Tully's book, and lay them both together; and where the child doth well, either in choosing or true, placing Tully's words, let the master praise him, and say, ' Here you do well ;' for I assure you there is no such whetstone to sharpen a good wit, and en- courage a will to learning, as is praise. But if the- child miss, either in forgetting a word, or in changing a good with a worse, or misordering the sentence, I would not have the master either frown, or chide with him, if the child hath done his diligence and used no truantship therein; for I know by good experience, that a child shall take more profit of two faults gently warned of, than of four things rightly hit; for then the master shall have good occasion to say unto him, ' Tully would have used such a word, not this ; Tully would have placed this word here, not there : would have used this case, this number, this person, this degree, this gender; he would have used this mood, this tense, this simple rather than this compound ; this adverb here, not there ; he would have ended the sentence with this verb, not with that noun or participle,' &c. In these few lines I have wrapped up the most tedious part of grammar, and also the ground of almost all the rules that are so busily tauglit by the master, and so hardly learned by the scholar in all common schools, which after this sort the master shall teach without all error, and the scholar shall learn without great pain ; the .master being led by so sure a guide, and the scholar being brought into so plain and easy a way. And therefore we do not contemn rules, but we gladly teach rules, and teach them more plainly, sensibly, and orderly than they be commonly taught in common schools. For when the master shall compare Tully's book with the scholar's translation, let the master at the first lead and teach his scholar to join the rules of his grammar book with the ex- amples of his present lesson, until the scholar hj himself be able to fetch out of his grammar every rule for every example, so as the grammar book be ever in the scholar's hand, and also used of him as a dictionary for every present use. This is a lively and perfect way of teaching of rules; where the common way used in common schools, to read the grammar alone by itself, is tedious for the master, hard for the scholar, cold and uncomfortable for them both. Let your scholar be never afraid to ask you any doubt, but use discreetly the best aUurements you can to encourage him to the same, lest his overmuch fearing of you drive him to seek some misorderlj'^ shift, as to seek to be helped by some other book, or to be prompted by some other scholar, and so go about to beguile you much, and himself more. With this way of good understanding the matter, plain construing, diligent parsing, daily translating, cheerful admonishing, and heedful amending of faults, never leaving behind just praise for well doing, I would have the scholar brought up withal, till he had read and translated over the first book of Epistles chosen out by Sturraius, with a good piece of a comedy of Terence also. All this wliile, by mine advice, the child shall use to speak no Latin ; for, as Cicero saith in like matter, with like words, Luquaido, male loqui discuni; and 72 ASCIIAM S SCHOOLMASTER. that excellent learned man G. Budaeus, in his Greek commentaries, sore com- plaineth, that when he began to learn the Latin tongue, use of speaking Latin at the table and elsewhere unadvisedly did bring him to such an evil choice of words, to such a crooked framing of sentences, that no one thing did hurt or hinder him more all the days of his life afterwards, both for readiness in speak- ing, and also good judgment in writing." Upon the subject of speaking Latin, the author admits that if children could be brought up in a house or a school in which the Latin tongue was properly and perfectly spoken, then the daily use of speaking would be the best and readiest way to learn the language. But in the best schools in Eng- land he contends that no such constant propriety of expression was to be heard. If the object therefore be that the scholar shall learn not only to speak Latin, but to speak it well, our author's opinion is that he will best acquire this faculty by use of writing. After some time wlien the scholar is found to perform this first kind of exer- cise with increasing ease and correctness, he must have longer lessons to translate, and must also be introduced to the second stage in the order of teaching; that is to say, he is to be taught to know and distinguish, both in nouns and verbs, what is proprium (literal,) and wliat is iranslatum (metaphorical;) what synonymum (synonymous,) what diversum (difl'ering in signitication in certain respects;) which words are contraria (opposite in signification to each other,) and which are the most remarkable phrases or idiomatic expressions, through- out the whole passage which forms his lesson. For this purpose he must have a third paper book ; in which after he has done his double translation he must write out and arrange what is to be found in the lesson under each of these heads. Should the passage contain nothing certain of them, he ought still to enter the head or title: thus, diversa nulla (no words differing in signification;) contraria nulla (no words of opposite signification,) &c. "This diligent translating," says the author, "joined with this heedful mark- ing in the foresaid p]pistles, and afterward in some plain Oration of Tully, as Pro Lege Manilia, Pro Archia Poeta, or in those three Ad 0. Ccesarem (lie means those three u.mmonly entitled Pro Q. Ligario, Pro Rege Dejotaro, and Pro M. Marcello,) shall work such a right choice of words, so strait a framing of sen- tences, such a true judgment, both to write skillfully and speak wittily, as wise men shall both praise and marvel at." The author in the Second Book proceeds with the subject as follows : — "After that your scholar, as I said before, shall come in deed, first to a ready perfectness in translating, then to a ripe and skillful choice in marking out his six points ; as — 1. Proprium; 2. Translatum; 3. Synonymum; 4. Contrarium; 5. Diversum ; 6. Phrases ; then take this order with him : read daily unto him some book of Tully ; as the Third Book of Epistles, chosen out by Sturmius ; de Amicitia de Senectute, or that excellent Epistle, containing almost the whole First Book, ad Q. Fratrem; some comedy of Terence, or Plautus. But in Plautus, skillful choice must be used by the master, to train his scholar to a judgment in cutting out perfectly over old and improper words. Ciesar's Com- mentaries are to be read with all curiosity, wherein especially (without all ex- ception to be made either by friend or foe) is seen the unspotted propriety of the Latin tongue, even when it was, as the Grecians say, in aif^ft, that is, at the highest pitcli of all perfectness ; or some orations of T, Livius, such as be both longest and plainest. ASCIIAM'S SCHOOLMASTER. 73 These books I would have him read now a good deal at every lecture ; for he shall not now use daily translation, but only construe again, and parse, where 3'e suspect is any need : yet let him not omit in these books his former exercise, in marking diligently, and writing orderly out his six points ; and for translating, use j'ou yourself every second or third day, to choose out some Epistle ad Aiti- cum, some notable common-place out of his Orations, or some other part of Tully, by your discretion, which your scholar may not know where to find ; and translate it you )'Ourself into plain natural English, and then give it him to translate into Latin again, allowing him good space and time to do it both with diligent heed and good advisement. Here his wit shall be new set on work ; his judgment for right choice truly tried; his memory for sure retaining better exercised, than by learning anything without the book ; and here, how much he hath profited shall plainly appear. When he bringeth it translated unto you, bring you forth the place of Tully; lay them together, compare the one with the other; commend his good choice, and right placing of words ; show his faults gently, but blame them not over- sharply ; for of such missings, gently admonished ofj proceedeth glad and good heed-taking ; of good heed-taking, springeth chiefly knowledge, which after groweth to perfectness, if this order be diligently used by the scholar, and gently handled by the master. For here shall all the hard points of grammar both easily and surely be learned up, which scholars in common schools, by mak- ing of Latins, be groping at with care and fear, and yet in many years they scarce can reach unto them. ******* When by this diligent and speedy reading over those forenaraed good books of Tully, Terence, Cajsar, and Livy, and by this second kind of translating out of your English, time shall breed skill, and use shall bring perfection : then ye may try, if ye will, your scholar with the third kind of translation, although the two first waj'S, by mine opinion, be not only sufficient of themselves, but also surer, both for the master's teaching and scholar's learning, than this third way is, which is thus : — Write you in English some letter, as it were from him to liis father, or to some other friend, naturally, according to the disposition of the child ; or some tale, or fable, or plain narration, according as Aphthonius* beginneth his exercises of learning : and let him translate into Latin again, abiding in such place where no other scholar may prompt him. But yet, use you yourself such discretion for choice therein, as the matter may be within the compass, both for words and sentences, of his former learning and reading. And now take heed, lest your scholar do not better in some point than you yourself, except yo have been diligently exercised in these kinds of translating before. I had once a proof hereof, tried by good experience, by a dear friend of mine, when I came first from Cambridge to serve the Queen's Majesty, then Lady Ehzabeth, Ij'ing at worthy Sir Antony Denny's, in Cheston. John Whitney, a young gentleman, was my bed-fellow, who willing by good nature, and provoked by mine advice, began to learn the Latin tongue, after the order declared in this book. We began after Cliristmas; I read unto him Tully cfe Amiciiia, which he did every day twice translate out of Latin into English, and out of English into * This book of Aphthonius, now forjrotten, was once in great vogne in our schools and on the continent. Among the list of books in Sandwich Sclinol hox or library (Temp. Eliz. Reg.) wasa copy of Aphthonius. There is a short notice of Aphthonius in the Penny Cyclopaedia. 74 ASCHAM S SCUOOLMASTER. Latiu again. About Si. Lawronco tide, after, to prove how he profited, I did choose out Toiquatus' talk de Amicitia, in the latter end of the lirst book de Finibus, because that place was the same in the matter, like in words and phrases, nigh to the form and fashion of sentences, as he had learned before in de Amicitia. I did translate it myself into plain English, and gave it him to turn into Latin, which he did so choicely, so orderly, so without any great miss in the hardest points of grammar, that tiome in seven year in grammar schools, yea, and some in the University -too, can not do half so well." The author next discusses " the six ways appointed by the best learned men for the learning of tongues and increase of eloquence, as 1. Translalion; 2. Faraphratie; 3. Mdaphrasis; 4. Epitome; 5. Imitation.''^ I. " Translation, is easy in the beginning for the scholar, and briugeth also much learning and great judgment to the master. It is most common and most commendable of all other exercises for youth : most common ; for all your con- structions in grammar schools be nothing else but translations. But because they be not double translations, as I do require, they bring forth but simple and single commodity ; and because also they lack the daily use of writing which is the only thing that brecdeth deep root, both in the wit for good understanding, and in the memory for sure keeping of all that is learned." Ascham justifies his views on the subject by citing the opinions of Cicero, Quintiliau, and Pliny, and thus concludes: — "And by these authorities and reasons am I moved to think this way of double translating, either only, or chiefly, to be fittest for the speedy and perfect attaining of any tongue. And for speedy attaining, I durst venture a good wager, if a scholar in whom is aptness, love, diligence, and constancy, would but translate after this sort one little book in Tully (as de Senedute, with two Epis- tles, the first ad Q. Fratrem, the other ad Leniulum the last save one in the First Book,) that scholar, I say, should come to a better knowledge in the Latin tongue than the most part do that spend four or five years in tossmg all the rules of grammar in common schools. Indeed, this one Book with these two Epis- tles, is not sufficient to aflbrd all Latiu words (which is not necessary for a young scholar to know,) but it is able to furnish him fully, for all points of grammar, with the right placing, ordering, aud use of words, in all kind of matter. And why not? For it is read, that Dion Prusa^us,* that wise philosopher aud excel- lent orator of all his time, did come to the great learning and utterance that was in him, by reading and following only two books, Phajdon Platonis, and Demos- thenes' most notable Oration Ilcpi napa-nptaficiaT. And a better and nearer example herein may be our most noble Que en Eliza- beth, who never took yet Greek nor Latin grammar in her hand, after the first declining of a noun and a verb ; but only by this double translating of Demos- thenes and Isocrates daily, without missing, every forenoon, and likewise some part of Tully every afternoon, for the space of a year or two, hath attained to such a perfect understanding in both the tongues, and to such a ready utterance of the Latin, and that with a judgment, as they be few in number in both the Universities, or elsewhere m England, that be in both tongues comparable with her Majesty." II. Paraphrasis is defined as being "not only to express at large with more words, but to shine and contend to translate the best Latin authors into other ♦Tliat is, Chrysostom, whose name was Dion, and who was a native of Pnisa in Bithjnia. ASCHAMS SCHOOLMASTER. ^5 Latin words, as manj-, or thereabout." This method Ascham decidedly con- demns as a school exercise, on the same grounds on which it is disapproved of by Cicero and the younger Pliny, the latter of whom in one his Epistles calls it audax contentio, an audacious contention. " It is a bold comparison, indeed," says our author, " to think to say better than that is best. Such turning of the best into worse, is much like the turning of good wine, out of a fair sweet flagon of silver, into a foul musty bottle of leather ; or to turn pure gold and silver into foul brass and copper. Paraphrasis, therefore, by mine opinion, is not meet for grammar schools, nor yet very fit for j'OUng men in the University, until study and time have bred in them perfect learning and steadfast judgment." III. Metaphrasis. " This kind of exercise," says Ascham, " is all one with para- phrasis, save it is out of verse either into prose, or into some other kind of meter ; or else out of prose into verse, which was Socrates's exercise and pastime, as Plato reporteth, when he was in prison, to translate JEsop's fables into verse. Quintihau doth greatly praise also this exercise ; but because TuUy doth disallow it in young men, by mine opinion it were not well to use it in grammar schools, even for the self-same causes that he recited against paraphrasis." IV. " Epitome is good privately for himself that doth work it, but ill commonly for all others that use other men's labor therein. A silly poor kind of study, not unlike to the doing of those poor folk which neither till, nor sow, nor reap themselves, but glean by stealth upon other men's ground. Such have empty barns for dear years." "I do wish," he afterwards remarks, in reference to the common books of ex- ercises used at schools, " that all rules for young scholars were shorter than they be. For without doubt, Grammatica itself is sooner and surer learned by ex- amples of good authors than by the naked rules of grammarians. Epitome hurtelh more in the universities and study of philosoijhy, but most of all iu divinity itself" • He acknowledges, however, that " books of common places be very necessary to induce a man into an orderly general knowledge, how to refer orderly all that he rcadeth ad ceria rcrum cainta (to certain heads, ) and not wander m study." "Epitome is most necessary of all in a man's own writing, as we learn of that noble poet Virgil, who, if Donatus say true, in writing that perfect work of the Georgics, used daily, when he had written forty or fifty verses, not to cease cutting, paring, and polishing of them, till he had brought them to the number of ten or twelve. And this exercise is not more needfully done in a great work than wisely done in our common daily writing, either of letter or other thing else; that is to say, to peruse diligently, and see and spy wisely, what is always more than needeth. • For twenty to one offend more in writing too much than too little ; even as twenty to one fall into sickness rather by over much fullness than by any lack or emptiness. * * * * And of all other men, even those that have the inventivest heads for all pur- poses, and roundest tongues in all matters and places (except they learn and use this good lesson of epitome,) commit commonly greater faults than dull, staying, silent men do. For quick inventors, and foir ready speakers, being boldened »^g ASCHAM'S SCHOOLMASTER. with their present abihty to say more, and perchance bettor too, at the sudden for that present than any others can do, use less help of diligence and study than they ought to do, and so have in tliem commonly less learning and weaker judgment for all deep considerations than some duller heads and slower tongues have. And therefore ready speakers generally be not the best, plainest, and wisest writers, nor yet the deepest judgcrs in weighty aflairs; because tliey do not tarry to weigh and judge all things as they should, but having their heads over full of matter, be like pens over full of ink, which will sooner blot tlian make any fair letter at all. Time was, when I had experience of two ambassadors in one place, the one of a hot head to invent, and of a hasty hand to write ; the other cold and staid in both ; but what difference of their doings was made by wise men is not unknown to some persons. The Bishop of Winchester, Stephen Gardiner, had a quick head and a ready tongue, and yet was not the best writer in England. Cicero in Brutus doth wisely note the same in Serg. Galba and Q. Hortcnsius, who were both hot, lusty, and plain speakers, but cold, loose, and rough writers. And Tully telleth the cause why, saying, when they spoke, their tongue was naturally carried with full tide and wind of their wit ; when they wrote, their head was solitary, dull, and calm ; and so their style was blunt and their writing cold." The author then quotes a remark from Cicero, to the effect, that the fault in question is one by which men of much natural ability, but insufQciently instructed, are often found to be characterized. " And there- fore," he concludes, "all quick inventors and ready fair speakers must be careful that, to their goodness of nature, they add also in any wise study, labor, leisure, learning, and judgment, and then they .shall indeed pass all other (as I know some do in whom all those qualities are fully planted,) or else if they give over much to their wit, and over little to their labor and learning, they will soonest overreach in talk, and farthest come behind in writing, whatsoever they take in hand. The method of epitome is most necessary for such kind of men." V. Imitation Ascham defines to be " a faculty to express lively and perfectly that example which you go about to follow." "All languages," he continues, " both learned, and mother tongues, be gotten, and gotten solely, by imitation. For as ye use to hear, so ye learn to speak; if ye hear no other, ye speak not yourself; and whom ye only hear, of them ye only learn. And therefore if ye would speak as the best and wisest do, ye must be con- versant where the best and wisest are; but if you be born or brought up in a rude country, ye shall not choose but .^peak rudely. The rudest man of all knoweth this to be true. Yet nevertheless, the rudeness of common and mother tongues is no bar for wise speaking. For in the rudest country, and most barbarous motlier language, many be found that can speak very wisely; but in the Greek and Latin tongues, the two only learned tongues, which be kept not in common talk, but in private ■ books, we find always wisdom and eloquence, good matter and good utterance, never or seldom asunder. For all such authors, as be fullest of good matter and right judgment in doctrine, be likewise always most proper in words, most apt in sentence, most plain and pure in uttering the same." After examining what has been said upon the subject of imitation by various writers, ancient and modern, he advises "a good student to journey through all authors," but to dwell only, "after God's Holy Bible, with Tully in Latin, Plato, Aristotle, Zenophon, Isocrates, and Demosthenes in Greek." LORD BACON, HIS PHILOSOPHY, AND ITS INFLUENCE UPON EDUCATION. (Translated from the German of Von Raumer, for the American Journal of Education.) Francis Bacon was born at London, on the 22d of January, 1561. His fatlier, Nicholas Bacon, was Lord Keeper of the Seal, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth ; his mother, whose maiden name was Anna Cook, was a pious and highly intellectual lady, well versed both in the Greek and Latin classics. When quite young. Bacon displayed such a mature judgment, that Queen Elizabeth, who took great pleas- ure in conversing with him, addressed him as her little Keeper of the Seal. When not quite sixteen years of age, he was placed at Trinity College, Cambridge, liis principal instructor there was John Whit- gift, a doctor of theology, and afterward Archbishop of Canterbury. While at Cambridge, he bestowed diligent study upon Aristotle, but with all his regard, for him, he conceived a distaste for his doctrines ; and, even from this early period, we may date the commencement of his warfare against scholasticism. After he had completed his education at the university, his father, wishing to initiate him in politics, commended him to the charge of Paulett, English ambassador at the Court of France. During Ba- con's residence at Paris, his father died, leaving but a moderate prop- erty to be divided between himself and his four brothers. In after years, his brother Anthony bequeathed him an independent fortune. On his return to England, he applied himself with ardor to the study of law, and was soon chosen councilor by Elizabeth ; but she did not advance him to any higher post of honor. This was re- served for James L, who made him Lord High Chancellor, with the titles of Verulam and Vice-Count St. Albans. He married the daughter of a wealthy London alderman, whose name was Burnham, by whom, however, he had no issue. Six years before his death, he was deposed from his office. And that he had been guilty of misdemeanor therein, is, alas ! but too evident. He was convicted of having used his high judicial function in the service of bribery, and James L could do no more than miti- gate the sentence that was pronounced against him, nor could he 77 78 LORD BACON. ever afterward recover the influence that lie had lost, though he sought it with the most fulsome flatteries. It is truly painful to see a man of such commanding talents sink into such depths of moral degradation. It would appear, in some instances, as if an over-exertion of the intellectual powers operated to the injury of the moral nature ; since constant mental labor leaves no time for self-consecration and self-conquest, yea, in the end, destroys all power and capacity therefor, — so much does such labor engross the whole man. But the closing years of Bacon's life redounded to the inestimable advantage of science ; for he gave his undivided attention to it, after his removal from the service of the state. He died on the 9th of April, 1626, in the 66th year of his age, having lived to be three years older than Shakspeare, whom he sur- vived ten years. Seldom have two such eminent men lived at the same time, and in the same place, — men of such vast, and yet oppo- site endowments. It would almost appear that, in Bacon, the genius of prose, in Shakspeare, of poetry, came into the world in person : in one, an understanding, the highest, clearest, most searching, and me- thodical ; and, in the other, an imagination of unbounded creative capacity. The poet, it is true, manifested a keen intellectual insight, together with a wonderfully comprehensive knowledge of human na- ture ; but we can hardly concede to Bacon much of that sense of beauty which is so marked an attribute of the poet. Both of them, however, were alike in achieving superior feme by the exercise of their understanding, and in suflfering the glory of that fame to be tarnished by the abuse of their imagination. Ho"w far justice was meted out to Bacon, we shall be better able to judge in the sequel. A third great genius, born in the same decade with Shakspeare and Bacon (1571,) deserves mention here, as ranking with the mightiest minds that the world ever produced ; I refer to Kepler. But what a remarkable contrast does the mutual non-intercourse of these three giant spirits present to the warm and living fellowship that subsisted between Luther and Melancthon. It is as though they had not known of each other's exi.stence. Bacon, notwithstanding the uni- versality of his writings, has no where made mention of Shakspeare ; he treats of dramatic poetry, but utters not a syllable in regard to the greatest dramatist " that ever lived in the tide of times," although this one was even his fellow-citizen. So, likewise. Bacon treats often of astronomy, and introduces Copernicus and Galileo, but Kepler never. And yet, Kepler must have been known to him, for, in the year 1618, he dedicated his great work, "Harmonice Mundi,^'' to the LORD BACON. YO self-same King James wliom Bacon revered as his great patron, and, in many of his own dedications, had styled a second Solomon. Bacon's works have appeared in repeated editions, both in sejiarate treatises and in a collected form. Many of them have no bearing upon our present inquiry ; such, for instance, as the '■'•Political Speeches^'' the '■^Essays, Civil and Moral," the '■'■History of the Reign of Henry VII." etc. On the contrary, his philosophical works proper are of the utmost value in their relation to the science of ed- ucation, although, on a cursory glance, it may not appear so. What Bacon advanced directly on this subject, is comparatively unimport- ant; but the indirect influence which, as the founder of the inductive method of philosophizing upon nature, or " real realism^' as I have elsewhere styled it, he exerted upon education, this, though we are unable always to analyze it, is nevertheless invaluable. The reader will therefore follow me without surprise, if, in the succeeding pages, I shall appear to have lost sight, for a time, of the purely educational element. Bacon has himself given us a sketch of the great philosophical Avork, which he designed to write, and parts of which he completed. The work was called '■^Instauratio Magna," and it was divided into six parts. The first part was an encyclopedia of all human learning, whether ancient or modern. In this he purposed, especiall}', to point out deficiencies, and suggest new subjects of inquir3^ This part we have; it is the "Z>e clignitate et augmentis scientiarinn,'" is in nine books, and is the best known of all his works. Some portions of it are completely elaborated ; others consist of a more or less thor- oughly meditated plan. The second part of the ^^Instawatio Mag- na" Bacon published under the title of '■'■Novum Organum, Sive judicia vera de inierpretatione Naturae.'''' He worked upon this part for many years; at his death, there were found twelve dift'erent elab- orations of it. It is a collection of great thoughts, remarkable for their depth, their freshness, and the extreme nicety with which they are adjusted, the one to the other, — and all are intelligibly expressed in aphorisms, whose every word we feel has been carefully weighed. The third part of the '■'■Jnstauratio Magna'" was designed to pre- sent a collection of the facts of natural history, and experimental phi- losophy, or " Pha;nomena itniversi ;" some portions of this were com- pleted. In the fourth part, or " Scala intellcctus,'" Bacon gives special applications of his philosophy in examples of the correct method of investigating nature. The fifth, or " Anticipationes philosophise secun- dce,'" was to be a sketch of the preparations of preceding ages for the final introduction of the new philosophy ; while the sixth wjis to em- 80 LORD BACON. body the new philosophy, in all its completeness and grandeur. This crowning part of the whole work Bacon left wholly untouched. We shall confine our attention, at the present time, however, chiefly to the two first and completest divisions of this great work, viz., to the "Z)e auymcntis scientiarum^' and the '■''N'ovum Organum!'^ But, in order to judge Bacon aright, we must first cast a glance at the in- tellectual character, not only of the age in which he lived, but of the centuries just preceding. We have seen that, in those centuries, supreme homage was paid to the word alone in all books, in disputations and declamations, and that thinking men displayed neither sense nor feeling for any thing but language, deriving from this, and basing upon this, all their knowledge. Every avenue to nature, to a direct and independent in- vestigation of the external world, was closed. That gifted monk, Roger Bacon, a most worthy predecessor of Lord Bacon, was, in the middle ages, regarded as a magician ; and, as a magician, suffered per- secution, because he was not content to view nature through the eyes of Aristotle, choosing rather to go himself to the fountain-head and converse with her, face to face. He maintained that men ought not to be satisfied with traditional and accepted knowledge. Reason and experience were the two sources of science ; but experience alone was the parent of a well-grounded certainty, and this true empiricism had hitherto been wholly neglected by most scholars. That Roger Bacon did not speak of experimental knowledge, as a blind man would dis- course of colors, is proved by some remarkable expressions of his, an- ticipatory and unambiguous, upon spectacles, telescopes, and gun- powder. But Roger stood alone in that age of the world, like a solitary preacher in the desert ; and hence it was that he was re- garded with wonder, as a magician, and persecuted. But that which showed in Roger Bacon as mere anticipation, and obscure prophecy, appeared, after the lapse of three hundred years, full-formed and clear in Francis Bacon. Even as Luther came forth to strip off' the thick veil of human traditions, that had been w^oven over the revelation of God in the Holy Scriptures, distorting its fea- tures, concealing it, and even burying it in oblivion, for multitudes of his fellow men, so did Bacon make war upon the traditions and pos- tulates of men, which had quite darkened over the revelation of God, in the material world, lie wished men no longer to put their faith in arbitrary and fanciful glosses upon this revelation, but to go them- selves directly to its living record. lie saw, moreovei^, that the more sagacious intellects of his time were wholly divorced from nature, and wedded to books alone; their LORD BACON. f!j energies all expended upon words,, and belittled by the endless hair- splitting subtleties of logic. He perceived that the physical philoso- phy current among his contemporaries, was gathered from Aristotle, or his disciples ; and that it no where rested upon the solid basis of nature. Men read in books what authors said concerning stones, plants, animals, and the hke; but to inspect these stones, plants, and animals, with their own eyes, was far enough from their thoughts. And hence were they compelled to defer to the authority of these authors, whether they would or no, because the}' cherished not the remotest idea of subjecting these descriptions and recitals to the test of actual experiment. Consider, too, that such test was the more needed, since these very authors had, mostly themselves, received their information even from third or fourth hands. We are amazed when we read the farrago of incredible and impossible stories, in which the books of natural history, especially those of the middle ages, abounded ; when we contemplate, for example, the monsters to which we are introduced in the zoologies of this period, or the marvelous virtues which were foolishly claimed for various stones, &c. And even if these books, thus treating of nature, did contain many thincrs that were true, yet it was manifest, that progress in natural science •was not to be hoped for, so long as men remained satisfied with their teachings. And how, I ask, could men have been otherwise than satisfied, when they appeared not even to realize the existence of na- ture, the mighty fountain-head of all authorities. 'Now, from this unworthy and slavish homage and deference to au- thors, authors too, mostly, with no title to confidence. Bacon purposed to recall men, by inviting them to a direct communion with the crea- tion around them, and by pointing them to those eternal truths, whose obligation they were bound humbly to acknowledge, and yet whose claims would never tarnish their honor. For an implicit obedience to nature is attended with a double re- ward, viz., an understanding of her processes and dominion over her. " Forsooth," he says, " we suffer the penalty of our first parents' sin, and yet follow in their footsteps. They desired to be like God, and we, their posterity, would be so in a higher degree. For we create worlds, direct and control nature, and, in short, square all things by the measure of our own folly, not by the plummet of divine wisdom, nor as we find them in reality. I know not whether, for this result, we are forced to do violence to nature or to our own intelligence the most ; but it nevertheless remains true, that we stamp the seal of our own image upon the creatures and the works of God, instead of care- fully searching for, and acknowledging, the seal of the Creator, mans' 6 82 LORD BACON. fest in tbem. Therefore have we lost, the second time, and that de- servedly, our empire over the creature ; yea, when, after and notwith- standing the fall, there was left to us some title to dominion over the unwilling creatures, so that they could be subjected and controlled, even this we have lost, in great part, through our pride, in that we have desired to be like God, and to follow the dictates of our own reason alone. Now then, if there be any humility in the presence of the Creator, if there be any reverence for, and exaltation of, his handiwork, if there be any charity toward men, any desire to relieve the woes and sufferings of humanity, any love for the light of truth, any hatred toward the darkness of error, — I would beseech men, again and again, to dismiss altogether, or at least for a moment to put away, their absurd and intractable theories, which give to assump- tions the dignity of hypotheses, dispense with experiment, and turn them away from the works of God. Then let them -(vith teachable spirit approach the great volume of the creation, patiently decipher its secret characters, and converse with its lofty truths ; so shall they leave behind the delusive echoes of prejudice, and dwell within the perpetual outgoings of divine wisdom. This is that speech, and lan- guage, whose lines, have gone out into all the earth ; and no confu- sion of tongues has ever befallen it. This language we should all strive to understand ; first condescending, like little children, to master its alphabet. ' " Our concern is not," he says in another place, " with the inward delights of contemplation alone, but with all human affairs and fortunes, yea, with the whole range of man's activity. ISor man, the servant and interpreter of nature, obtains an intelligent do- minion over her, only in so far as he learns her goings on by experi- ment or observation ; more than this, he neither knows, nor can he do. For his utmost power is inadequate to loosen or to break the established sequence of causes ; nor is it possible for him to subjugate nature, except as he submits to her bidding. Hence, the twin desires of man for knowledge, and for power, coincide in one ; and therefore the ill-success of his operations springs mainly from his ignorance of their essential causes." "This, then," he continues, "is the substance of the whole matter, that we should fix the eyes of our mind upon things themselves, and thereby form a true conception of them. And may God keep us from the great folly of counting the visions of our own fancy for the types of his creation ; nay, rather may he grant us the privilege of tracing the revelation and true vision of that seal and impress which he himself has stamped upon his creatures." In another place Bacon entreats men "for a little space to abjure all traditional and inherited LORD BACON. 83 views and notions, and to come as new-born children, witli open and unworn sense, to the observation of nature. For it is no less true in this human kingdom of knowledge than in God's kingdom of heaven, that no man shall enter into it except he become first as a little child ! " Man must put himself again in direct, close, and personal contact with nature, and no longer trust to the confused, uncertain, and arbitrary accounts and descriptions of her historians and would-be interpreters. From a clear and correct observation and perception of objects, their qualities, powers, etc., the investigator must proceed, step by step, till he arrives at axioms, and at that degree of insight, that will enable him to interpret the laws, and analyze the processes of nature. To this end, Bacon proffers to us his new method, viz., the method of in- duction. With the aid of this method, we attain to an insight into the connection and mutual relation of the laws of matter, and thus, according to him, we are enabled, through this knowledge, to make nature subservient to our will. " Natural philosophy," he says in another place, " is either specula- tive or operative ; the one is concerned with the invention of causes, the other with the invention of new experiments. Again, speculative natural philosophy, or theory, is divided into Physic and Metaphysic. Natural history describes the variety of things ; Physic, the causes, bui variable or respective causes. As, for instance, it seeks to know why snow is white ; but Metaphysic inquires after the true nature of white- ness, not only as it finds this quality in snow, but also in chalk, silver, lilies, (fee. Thus Metaphysic mounts, at last, to the knowledge of es- sential forms, or absolute differences, — the Ideas of Plato. These forms constitute the ultimate aim of science. Physic leads, through ac- quaintance with immediate causes, to Mechanic ; but Metaphysic, by virtue of dealing with ultimate forms, leads to Magic. Thus me- chanic and Magic carry into practice what Physic and Metaphysic ad- vance as theory. The knowledge of occult forms brings the power to work marvels." Natural philosophy Bacon compares to a "pyramid, whose basis is Natural History ; the stage next the basis, is Physic branching into Practical Mechanic ; the stage next the vertical point, is Metaphysic. As for the vertical point, ^Ojms quod operatur Deus a princijno usque ad finevfiy the summary law of nature, we know not whether man's inquiry can attain unto it." Thus have we given a very general sketch of the positive side f>f the Baconian philosophy. Its gradations are as follows : beginning at observation and experiment, it lays down, by a process of induc- tion, higher and higher axioms, till at last it penetrates to essential 84 LORD BACON. forms, increasing insight adding ever new vigor and breadth to experiment. But Bacon well knew that many obstacles stood in the way of the reception of his new philosophy, and that he must first remove these obstacles. The greater portion of his ^'■Novum Organiim''' is accord- ingly occupied with polemics. Idols and false notions, he says here, govern the human under- standing to that degree that, before the introduction of any positive system of truth, they must all be cleared away, and men be warned against them. There are four kinds of idols. Idols of the Tribe ; or generic, and founded in the universal nature of mankind. Idols of the Cave ; or specific, growing out of the diversities of individual character. Idols of the Forum ; or such as proceed from the social relations of men. Idols of the Theater ; or those which have been forced into the human mind by successive schools of philosophy, creating, as it were, fictitious or scenic representations of life. I will now extract, from Bacon's exposition of these various idols, some remarks, bearing upon education, " It is false," he says, " to assert that our senses are the ultimate measure of the world ; all the perceptions of the senses, as well as all the conceptions of the mind, find their correspondences in the nature of man, not in the being of the universe. The human understanding receives the rays that stream from created objects, as an uneven mirror, which mingles its own nature with that of the object it reflects, giving to them false shapes and colors." Bacon here disclaims that absolute knowledge of objects, which pene- trates to the essence of their being; for such all-sufficient knowledge is the prerogative of God alone. Our point of view is forever outside of the center of the universe. But yet he does not appear to realize the intimate connection of this view with the fall of man, and the conditions affixed, in consequence thereof, to human learning. For even were the knowledge possible to man radical and complete, yet it reaches only to the border-land, beyond which lie the inscrutable mysteries of the Deity. These mysteries man can prefigure and be- lieve, but never fathom, " The human intellect is led by its very essence to assume a greater order and equality in nature than it actually finds." In another place he says, " The light of the understanding is not a clear light, but it is clouded by the will and the affections. Hence man rejects LORD BACON. o~ that which is diflScult, because it calls for patient inquiry ; that which is moderate, because it narrows his hopes, &c." How appropriate is this remark in the education of the young, and how little is instruc- tion based upon just views of the relation between the will and the understanding, and upon the taste or distaste of pupils for given pur- suits ; and how evident it is, that the will must be animated by the conscience, where the gifts of intellect have been sparingly bestowed ! "Some minds are lost in admiration of antiquity, others in the pas- sion for novelty, but only the select few are so well balanced as to keep a medium course, and neither to pull down that which has been skilfully built up by the ancients, nor to despise that which has been well done by the moderns." This remark should serve to encourage teachers, e&oecially at the present day, when a superstitious reverence for antiquity is engaged in active conflict with a superstitious regard for whatsoever is new. Further on, Bacon attacks the various philosophies which have been in vogue at different periods. " The devotees of science have been either empiricists or dogmatists. The empiricist, like ants, have heaped up only that which the)' could put to use; and the dogmat- ists, like spiders, have spun threads out of their own bowels. The bees, on the contrary, hold a course midway between these two ; for they sip of the flowers of the field and garden, and the nature of these they change and distil, by virtue of the force that is in them. So a true philosophy is not efi"ective alone, or chiefly, by the power of' thought which it contains, nor does it proceed out of a memory filled with the results of observation and experiment, but all its stores are changed and assimilated by the understanding." He likewise cen- sures " an undue respect for authorities, and that too common error of opinion, that nothing new remains to be found out." lie con- demns sin as the bane of all knowledge. He says, " men have entered into a desire of learning and knowledge, not for the benefit and use of their fellows, but from a natural curiosity and inquisitive appetite, for victory of wit and contradiction, or for lucre and profession." Most sharply does he castigate liars. " Knowledge is nothing else than a representation of truth ; for the truth of being and the truth of knowing are one, differing no more than the direct beam and the beam reflected." Highly instructive to us also are his repeated attacks upon the Greeks. " The wisdom of the Greeks," he says, " was rhetorical, ex- pended itself ujion words, and had little to do with the search after truth." Their philosophers, according to him, even Plato and Aris- totle, were altogether sophists ; a few of the graver and more earnest so LORD BACON. spirits of an earlier period, like Empedocles, Anaxagoras, (fee, ex- cepted. True, indeed, was that saying of the Egyptian priests, " the Greeks continue children forever, having neither an antiquity of science, nor a science of antiquity. For they have the nature of boys, inasmuch as they are full of loquacity, but incapable of repro- duction, and their wisdom is therefore rich in words but poor in deeds." Elsewhere, he says, " To speak truly, ' antiquitas seculi, juventus mundi,' and these times are the ancient times, when the ivorld is an- cient. Hence those elder generations fell short of many of our pres- ent knowledges ; they knew but a small part of the world, and but a brief period of history ; we, on the contrary, are acquainted with a far greater extent of the old world, besides having uncovered a new hemisphere, and we look back and survey long periods of history." This passage is the embodiment of that ultra anti -classical view, against which, in Bacon's own day, Bodley, and, in our own times, Goethe, have so earnestly protested. How prejudicial to the cause of education it must be we can readily imagine, for it sounds in our ears with the authority of a voice from the past, cheering on our nar- row-minded realists in their opposition to the study of the ancients. But though it is not possible for us entirely to exculpate Bacon in this his judgment of antiquity, yet, in strict justice, we ought to make all due allowance for his point of view. His was the philosophy of nature; a knowledge of nature, and power over her by virtue of that knowledge, were his aim. " What have the ancients done in this particular," he asked ; but gave no thought to Homer, Sophocles, Demosthenes, and Phidias ; and seeing, as in a vision, the air-pumps, electric telegraj)hs, and steam-engines, the seventy-eight thousand species of animals, the seventy-eight thousand species of plants, of our day, — seeing all these rewards of knowledge and power, which were to flow from the adoption of his method, he looked upon the ancients with indifference. But even from this point of view, he should have conceded to them far more than he did. It is enough that we men- tion the determinations of latitude and longitude, the length of a meridian, the precession of the equinoxes ; enough that we speak of the great Hipparchus, of Archimedes, and Apollonius of Perga, of Hippocrates, of Aristotle's " History of Animals," and the " Garden of Plants" of Theophrastus. And how much more could I bring for- ward in proof of the g^reatness of the Greeks, even in natural philos- ophy ! And, more than all, what shall we say of those great funda- mental thoughts, which have tested the human intellect foi more than two thousand years ? LORD BACON. 87 Bacon's hostility to Aristotle was mainly to be ascribed to the scholastics, who called themselves his disciples, though their master's works were not known to them, save through the medium of unfaith- ful translations. He concedes to them "sharp wit" indeed, but adds " that it only worked upon itself, as the spider worketh her web, and brought forth mere cobwebs of learning, and nothing more." But we find him no more favorable to the anti-scholastics, whom we may style the philologists of the fifteenth and sixteenth centu- ries. " At the time of Martin Luther, an atfected study of eloquence began to flourish. There arose a great enmity and opposition to the scholastics, because they considered no whit the pureness of their style, but took the liberty to coin and frame new and barbarous terms of art, to express their own sense, and to avoid circuit of speech. This enmity speedily ended in producing the opposite extreme ; for men began to hunt more after words than matter, and more after the choiceness of the phrase, and the round and clean composition of the sentence, than after the weight of matter, soundness of argument, life of invention, or depth of judgment. Then did Sturmius spend such infinite and curious pains upon Cicero and Hermogenes. Then did Erasmus take occasion to make the scoffing echo, '■Decern annos consumpsi in legendo Cicerone,^ and the echo answered in Greek, ' 'Ov£,' asine.'" " In sum," he concludes, " the whole inclination and bent of those times was rather toward copia than weight." We have now sufficiently characterized Bacon's polemics. The fore- going paragraph proves that he regarded what the philologists of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries styled realism, as wholly distinct from the realism that his philosophy required. This latter I have ventured to call " real realism,'' in contrast with the verbal realism of the philologists, who knew roses and wine only as they were described in the verses of Anacreon and Horace. Though there were many before Bacon, especially artists and crafts- men, who lived in communion with nature, and who, in manifold ways, transfigured and idealized her, and unveiled her glory ; and though their sense for nature was, in a measure, highly cultivated, so that they attained to a practical understanding of her ways, yet this understanding of theirs was, so to speak, at its highest, merely in- stinctive ; for it led them to no scientific deductions, and yielded them no thoughtful, sure, and legitimate dominion over her. To the scholars of that day Bacon's doctrine was wholly new. It summoned them to leave for a while their books, which had been their vital element, — "And with untrammeled thiiught To talk with nature, face to face." 83 LORD BACON. Thus Bacon was tlie father of tlie modern iv>Jists, and, as I shall take occasion to show hereafter, of realistic princii)les of instruction. Traces, moreover, are to be found ih him of the harsh and repulsive features which characterize our modern matter-of-fact philosophy. As an instance in point, consider the sentence which he pronounced against the ancients ; how he weighed them in the scales of his own philosophy, and found them wanting ; how low an estimate he set upon what they did bring to pass, counting it all as the result of pure accident, because not arrived at by means of systematic induction. The exquisite sense of beauty, and the high culture of art of the an- cients, seemed, in fact, to have been wholly ignored by the prosaic Bacon, as it is by the realists of the present age. His method itself, likewise, and still more that which by virtue of this method he accomplished, in the way of observation and experi- ment, are open to many objections. He tells us that he is about to wed the human intellect to nature, and on this announcement we look to see a joyful marriage and a union of love. But, instead of this, he presents us with a slow and wearisome plan of a siege, for the reduction of the stronghold of nature, whom he apparently desires us to starve into a surrender. For proof of this we need only turn to his '■'History of the Winds,'''' written upon this plan, to say nothing of numerous kindred paragraphs, scattered throughout the second book of his '■'■Novuin OryanumP He had evidently convinced him- self that, with the aid of his method of induction, men could as in- telligently and surely advance to the accomplishment of their aims, in the subjection of nature, as an able general predicts, to a certainty, that a fortress, to which he has laid siege, will surrender within a given time. If earlier observers, without such method, had made any progress in the investigation of nature, this, according to Bacon, should be ascribed to accident. " But this method makes us inde- pendent of accident, for it is all-comprehending and infallible. Nay, it is a way in which the blind can not err, a way too which places the man of humble capacity on a level with the genius." These words appear addressed to us by Pestalozzi and the Pesta- lozzians. But such a view is derogatory to the gifts which God has lavished upon his chosen children. What though Bacon, by the use of his method, has built a solid waggon track to Helicon ? The soar- ing intellects of a Kepler and a Galileo need no such beaten course ; they are already upon the mountain-top, before the waggoners are ready to set forth. This anti-genial element of the Baconian method Goethe has treated with a well-merited severity. When a man of fertile imagin- LORD BACON. gg ation and keen insight fixes his attention upon one important fact, seizes the law revealed therein, and holds fast that law, the results that he brings to pass are more far-reaching in their scope and influ- ence, than when an adust and hackneyed plodder, wearys himself through long years in a methodical heaping together of myriads of isolated and less important facts, without once detecting the charac- ter and essence of the simplest of them all. For consider how truth flashed in upon the mind of Galileo, while watching the vibrations of a pendant chandelier, "a striking proof," says Goethe, "that for the man of genius, one fact is better than a thousand." For, accord- ing to him, in scientific researches every thing depends on what may be styled the " aperQU," or the instantaneous, intuitive recognition of the principle that underlies a given phenomenon. But some one will ask, " do you then reject Bacon's method of in- duction in all its particulars ?" By no means. It is only this idea of an equalizing scale applied to the mind, and his view that there is no other road to knowledge than the one that he has marked out, that merit our reproof In fact, Bacon himself, with a most happy inconsistency, often em- ploys expressions that disarm all attack. For instance, take the fol- lowing : " When a man brings to the contemplation of nature an open sense and a mind that is unentangled by the prejudices of tradition, he needs no such method." The favorites of fortune, the miracle- workers, as Luther calls them, are gifted with this unclouded vision ; to this class Goethe himself belonged. With a lively sensibility, a refined organism, and a passionate love for nature, he needed not that any should say to him, 'open thine eyes and look around thee.' To him, the author of the lines, " Nature is good and kind Wlio clasps me to her breast," a marriage between the soul and the outward world was already a settled fact. "They that are whole need not a physician.'' But these miracle-workers are, alas, too rare; and most men must make use of a method which shall stimulate their sluggish spirits into life and energy. As it regards the manner in which Bacon illustrated liis method, as in the " History of the Winds" so severely commented upon by Goethe, he should be judged, in a measure, by the general tone of natural science in his own age. To Goethe's eloquent apology for " aper<7us" or intuitive perceptions. Bacon might have replied, "your principles underlying phenomena, are what I have denominated ' forms,' which I nevertheless can not unveil by means of a single 90 LORD BACON. fact taken symbolically, but oaly by induction, by a comparison of many facta, representing the varied shapes of one and the same Proteus." In short, despite the objectionable manner in which Bacon, here and there, endeavored, in the <;oncrete, to maintain, realize, and prove the deep and solid foundation-principles which he advanced, the truth of those principles remains yet unassailed ; and, like a vital germ, they have grown, and are bearing fruit even to the present day. Bacon originated no school, but something greater and wider in its scope. He was the founder of the direct mode of questioning na- ture, a mode open alike to all, whatever their talent or abilities. He •was, as we have before intimated, the creator of the practical experi- mentalism of the present day, which explores the world for material to work up into manufactured fabrics, and to him may be ascribed the present prevailing tendency, of the English nation especially, to utilitarianism, to that perfect subjection of nature, by the aid of science, that will lead men finally to a true rational magic. * * * * * * * I have now endeavored to present a brief abstract of Bacon's phi- losophy. I have also occasionally adverted to the influence which it has exerted upon mental culture, and, as a consequence, upon meth- ods of instruction ; an influence which, at the distance of two centu- ries, is still in the ascendant. . But there are also many passages in the " De auymentis scientiarunC which have a direct bearing upon education. Of this nature is the second chapter of the Sixth Book, in which he treats of " prudentia traditiva," or knowledge dehvered, and characterizes various methods of teaching. He gives the prefer- ence to the genetic method, where the teacher " transplants knowl- edge into the scholar's mind, as it grew in his own." Whatever is imparted in' this way, will take root, flourish, and bear fruit. He commends aphorisms : "For rejiresentinga knowledge broken, they do invite men to inquire farther; whereas systems, carrying a show of a total, do secure men as if they were at farthest." "Methods should vary according to the subject to be taught, for in knowledge itself there is great diversity." In one place he treats most strenuously and earnestly of the im- portance of education. "A gardener," he says, " takes more pains with the young than with the full-grown plant; and men commonly find it needful, in any undertaking, to begin well. We give scarce a thought to our teachers, and care little for what they may be, and yet we are forever complaining, because rulers are rigid in the matter LORD BACON. gj of laws and penalties, but indifferent to the right training of the young." To this Bacon adds a panegyric upon the schools of the Jesuits, by way of introduction to another paragraph on education. It is as follows : — "As it regards teaching, this is the sum of all direction : take ex- ample by the schools of the Jesuits ; for better do not exist. How- ever, I will add, according to my wont, a few scattered thoughts on this head. Collegiate training for young men and boys excels, in my opinion, that of the family or of the school. For not only are greater incentives to action to be found at colleges, but there too the young have ever before their eyes men of dignified bearing and superior scholarship, who command their respect, and whom they grow insens- ibly to imitate. In short, there is hardly a particular in which col- leges do not excel. In regard to the course and order of instruction, my chief counsel would be to avoid all digests and epitomes of learn- ing; for they are a species of imposture, giving men the means to make a show of learning, who have it not. Moreover, the natural bent of individual minds should be so fir encouraged, that a scholar, who shall learn all that is required of him, may be allowed time in which to pursue a favorite study. And furthermore, it is worth while to consider, and I think this point has not hitherto received the attention that its importance demands, that there are two distinct modes of training the mind to a free and appropriate use of its Ac- uities. The one begins with the easiest, and so proceeds to the more difficult ; the other, at the outset, presses the pupil with the more difficult tasks, and, after he has mastered these, turns hiin to pleas- anter and easier ones: for it is one method to practice swimming with bladders, and another to practice dancing with heavy shoes. It is beyond all estimate, how much a judicious blending of these two methods will profit both the mental and the bodily powers. And so to select and assign topics of instruction, as to adapt them to the individual capabilities of the pupils, — this, too, requires a special ex- perience and judgment. A close observation and an accurate knowl- edge of the diflierent natures of pupils is due from teachers to the pa- rents of these pupils, that they may choose an occupation in life for their sons accordingly. And note further, that not only does every one make more rapid progress in those studies to which his nature inclines him, but again that a natural disinclination, in whatever di- rection, may be overcome by the help of special studies. For in- stance, if a boy has a light, inattentive, and inconstant spirit, so that he is easily diverted, and his attention can not be readily fixed, he 92 LORD BACON. will fiinl advantage iu the mathematics, in which a demonstration must be commenced anew whenevei* the thoughts wander even for a moment. These cautions respecting mental training may not, at the first glance, appear to abound either in weight or wisdom; but, acted on, they are both fruitful and efficient. For as the wronging or cherish- ing of seeds or young plants is that, that is most important to their thriving, and as it was noted that the first six kings, being in truth as tutoi's of the state of Rome in the infancy thereof, was the princi- pal cause of the eminent greatness of that state which followed ; so the culture and manurance of minds in youth hath such a forcible, though unseen operation, as hardly any length of time or contention of labor can countervail it afterward. And it is not amiss to observe how small and mean faculties, gotten by education, yet when they fall into great men or great matters, do work great and important eflfects, whereof I will give a notable example. And the rather, as I find that the Jesuits also have not neglected the cultivation of these lesser graces of the scholar, in which, as it seems to me, they have shown sound judgment. I speak of that art which, followed for a livelihood, brings reproach, but, used in education, does the best of service, — I mean the acting of plays. This strengthens the memory, gives volume to the voice, power to the expression, ease to the bear- ing, grace to the gestures, and imparts a wonderful degree of self- confidence, thus thoroughly fitting young men for the demands of a public career. Tacitus relates that a certain stage-player, Vibulenus, by his faculty of playing, put the Panonnian armies into an extreme tumult and combustion. For there arising a mutiny among them, upon the death of Augustus Caisar, BL'esus, the lieutenant, had com- mitted some mutineers, which were suddenly rescued ; whereupon Vibulenus got to be heard speak, which he did in this manner : 'These ])Oor innocent wretches, appointed to cruel death, you have restored to behold the light ; but who shall restore my brother to me, or life unto my brother, that was sent hither in message from the le- gions of Germany, to treat of the common cause ? And he liath murdered him this last night by some of liis fencers and ruffians, that lie hath about him for his executioners upon soldiers. Answer, Blse- sus, what is done with his body ? The mortalest enemies do not deny burial ; when I have performed my last duties to the corpse, with kisses, with tears, command me to be slain besides him, so that these my fellows, for our good meaning, and our true hearts to the legions, may have leave to bury us.' With which s|teech he put the army into an infinite fury and uproar ; whereas truth was, he had no LORD BACON. 93 brother, neither was there any such matter, but he played it merely as if he had been upon the stage." It should be understood, however, that this passage on education is isolated, and by no means in connection with the general phi- losophical system of Bacon. It is surprising that the man who said, "It is no less true in this human kingdom of knowledge than in God's kingdom of heaven, that no man shall enter into it, except he become first as a Httle child," did not adhere to this sentiment, and carry it into all his speculations. When he taught that " men must abjure all traditional and inherited views and notions, so that with an open and unworn sense they might come to the observation of nature," why did he not apply his doctrine to that class, who know nothing by tra- dition, and who have nothing to unlearn, — I mean to children ? Why did he not build anew the science of education upon the solid basis of realism ? Instead of this, we find nothing but an ill-assorted far- rago of good, bad, and indifferent. I have already expressed my disapproval of the pernicious influence of the educational tenets of the Jesuits, which Bacon so highly recommends, especially their ^;rj- mum mobile, the principle of emulation. Much might be urged also against some of the features of seminaries and colleges. His advoca- cy of theatrical representations in schools is, singularly enough, sup- ported by the above example from Tacitus ; which, more nearly consid- ered, is truly hideous, an example of a stage-player, who, in the reign of Tiberius, with the aid of surpassing eloquence, palmed off upon the Pannonian legions a wholesale lie, and so instigated them to a rebellion against their general. But he forgot to add, that Drusus most fitly recompensed the ill-omened orator for his all too potent speech with the loss of his head. Why did not Bacon, keen as he ordinarily proved himself in argument, rather use this example to condemn theatrical representations in schools, inasmuch as these rep- resentations very often pass from a mimic jest into a too serious fa- miliarity with lies and deceit ? Meanwhile some of his views in the passage above quoted, as, against over hasty methods of imparting instruction, in favor of a ju- dicious interchange between the easier and the more difficult branch- es of learning, and the like, are timely and encouraging. But, though these doctrines insure their own reception, we ought not too hastily to conclude that Bacon's highest claims in t!ie cause of education are based upon them. These claims proceed much rather from the fact, which I can not too often repeat, that he was the first to break out of the beaten track, and to address scholars, who lived and moved in the languages and writings of antiquity, yea, who 94 LORD BACON. were mostly echoes of the old Greeks and Romans, and who had no higher ambition than to be so, — to address them in such language as the following : "Be not wrapped up in the past, there is an actual present lying all about you; look up and behold it in its grandeur. Turn away from the broken cisterns of traditional science, and quaff the pure waters that flow sparkling and fresh forever from the un- fathomable fountain of the creation. Go to nature and listen to her many voices, consider her ways and learn her doings ; so shall you bend her to your will. For knowledge is power." These doctrines have exerted an incalculable influence, especially in England, where theoretical and practical natural philosophy are, in the manner indicated by Bacon, united, and where this union has been marvelously fruitful of results. Their influence, moreover, may be traced, at quite an early period, in the department of education. The first teacher who imbibed the views of Bacon was, most proba- bly, Ratich. But we have the distinct acknowledgment from that most eminent of the teachers of the seventeenth century, Co- menius, of his indebtedness to Bacon. In the year 1633, he brought out a work upon natural philosophy ; and, in the preface to this work, he adverted to his own obligations to Bacon. He here called the ^^ Instatiratio Magna^'' "a most admirable book. I regard it as the most brilliant of the philosophical works of the present century. I am disappointed, however, that the keen-eyed Verulam, after furnishing us with the true key to nature, has not hifnself opened her mysteries, but has only showed us by a few examples how they may be opened, and so left the task to future generations." In another paragraph he says: "Do not we, as well as the ancients, live in the garden of na- ture ? Why then should not we, as well as they, use our eyes and our ears ? Why must we learn the works of nature from any other teachers than these, our senses ? Why, I ask, shall we not throw aside our dead books, and read in that living volume around us, in which vastly more is contained than it is possible for any man to re- cord ; especially too that the pleasure and the profit t^ come from its perusal are both so much the greater ? In experience too, we are so many centuries in advance of Aristotle." With this eminent examj)le of Bacon's influence in the department of instruction, I shall close. Were I to cite additional instances, 1 should be compelled to anticipate much of the following history. In this, the connection of our modern realists, their schools of industry, polytechnic schools, and the Hke, with the doctrines of Bacon, will be so abundantly and so repeatedly demonstrated, as to justify me in styling him the founder and originator of modern reahsm, and of realistic principles of instruction. LORD BACON ON EDUCATION AND STUDIES. WITH ANNOTATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. ESSAY XXXIX. OF CUSTOM AND EDUCATION. Men's thoughts are much according to their inclination ; their discourse and speeches according to their learning and infused opinions ; but their deeds are after^ as' they have been accustomed : and therefore, as Machiavcl well noteth (though in an evil-favored instance,) there is no trusting to the force of nature, nor to the bravery of words, except it be corroborate' by custom. His instance is, that for the achieving of a desperate conspiracy, a man should not rest upon the fierceness of any man's nature, or his resolute undertakings, but take such a one as hath had his hands formerly in blood : but Machiavel knew not of a friar Clement, nor a Ravillac, nor a Jaureguy, nor a Baltazar Gerard ; yet his rule holdeth still, that nature, nor the engagement of words, are not^ so forcible as custom. Only super- stition is now so well advanced, that men of the first blood are as firm as butchers by occupation ; and votary^ resolution is made equipollent to custom, even in matter of blood. In other things, the predofninancy of custom is every where visible, insomuch as a man would wonder to hear men profess, protest, engage, give great words, and then do just as they have done before, as if they were dead images and engines, moved only by the wheels of custom. We see also the reign or tyranny of custom, what it is. The Indians (I mean the sect of their wise men,) lay them- selves quietly upon a stack of wood, and so sacrifice themselves by fire : nay, the wives strive to be burned with the corpse of their husbands. The lads of Sparta,^ of ancient time, were wont to be scourged upon the altar of Diana, without so much asqueching.' I remember, in the begin- ning of Queen Elizabeth's time of England, an Irish rebel condemned, put 1. After. According to. ''That ye seek not after your own heart." — Num., xv : 39. "He who wa.s of the bondwoman was born after the flesh." — Gal, iv: 23. " Deal not with uj after our sins " — Litany. 2. As. That. See page 23. 3. Corroborate. Corroborated ; strengthened ; made Jinn. " His heart is corroborate." — Shakespeare. 4. Nor — Are not. This double negative is used frequently by old writers. "Nor to no Roman else." — Shakespeare. "Another sort there be, that will Be talking of the fairies still, Nor never can they have their fill." — Drafton. 5. Votary. Conteerated by a vow. 6. Cic. Tuseul. Dial., ii : 14. 7. Quech (properly quich.) To move; to sttr. •'■ Underre her feet, there as she sate, An huge great lyon laye, that mote appalU An hardy courage ; like captived thrall With a strong iron chain and collar bounde — Not once he could nor move nor quich." — Spenur. 96 LORD BACON. up a petition to the deputy that he might be hanged in a withe,' and not in a halter, because it had been so used with former rebels. There be monks in Russia, for penance, that will sit a whole night in a vessel of water, till they be engaged with hard ice. Many examples may be put of the force of custom, both upon mind and body ; therefore, since custom is the principal magistrate of man's life, let men by all means endeavor to obtain good customs. Certainly, custom is most perfect when it beginneth in young years : this we call education, which is, in eflfect, butan early custom. So we see in languages, the tone is more pliant to all expressions and sounds, the joints are more supple to all feats of activity and motions, in youth, than afterward ; for it is true, the late learners can not so well take up the ply, except it be in some minds, that have not suffered themselves to fix, but have kept them- selves open and prepared to receive continual amendment, which is ex- ceeding rare ; but if the force of custom, simple and separate, be great, the force of custom, copulate, and conjoined, and collegiate, is far greater ; for there example teacheth, company comforteth,'' emulation quickeneth, glory raiseth ; so as in such places the force of custom is in his' exalta- tion. Certainly, the great multiplication^ of virtues upon human nature resteth upon societies well ordained and disciplined ; for commonwealths and good governments do nourish virtue grown, but do not much mend the seeds : but the misery is, that the most effectual means are now ap- plied to the ends least to be desired. ANNOTATIONS. "ilfen's thoughts are much according to their inclinations : their discourse and speeches according to their learning and infused opinions, but their de'eda are after as they have been accustomed.''' This remark, like many others, Bacon has condensed in Latin into the very brief and pithy apophthegm which I have given in the '■'■ Antitheta on Nature in A/en." " Cogltamus secundum naturam ; loquimur secundum pra?cepta ; sed agimus secundum consuetudineni.'' Of course. Bacon did not mean his words to be takt-n literally in their utmost extent, and without any exception or modifica- tion ; as if natural disposition and instruction had nothing to do with conduct. And, of course, he could not mean any thing so self-contradictory as to say that all action is the result of custom : for it is plain that, in the first instance, it must be by actions that a custom is formed. But he uses a strong expression, in order to impress it on our mind that, for practice, custom is the most essential thing, and that it will often overbear both the original disposition, and the precepts which have been learnt: that whatever a man may inwardly think, and (with perfect sincerity) say, you can not fully depend on his conduct till you know how he has been accustomed to act. For, continued 1. Wiihs Twigs, or bundx of ttcigs " If they bind me with seven preeu teiths, then shall I be weak." — Judges, xvl : 7 2. Comfort. Tu strengthen as an auxiliary ; to help. (The meaning of the original L«tin word. Cuii/urlo.) " Now we exhort you brethren, comfiirt the feeble-minded."— 1 Thess., v : 14. 3. Ills. J/s "But God giveth it a body as it liatli pleased Him. and to every seed Ai's own body."— 1 Coi:,xv: 38. 4 Miillipiicaiion upon, "Increase and midtiphj upon us thy mercy ."—Collect /or the 4th Sunday ii/ler Trinity. LORD BACON. gi^ action is like a continued stream of water, whicli wears for itself a channel, that it will not easily be turned from. The bed whieh the current had gradually scooped at first, afterward confines it. Bacon is far from meaning, I conceive, when he says that " men speak as they have learned," to limit himself to the case of i«.vi«f ere professions ; but to point out how much easier it is to learn to repeat a lesson correctly, than to bring it into practice, when custom is opposed to it. This is the doctrine of one whom Bacon did not certainly regard with any un- due veneration — Aristotle ; who, in his "£