LB 
 
 
 
 875 
 
 . 
 
 
 ; P29 1 2 
 
 Pa7/ne - 
 
 
 
 
 Southern Branch 
 of the 
 
 University of California 
 
 Los Angeles 
 
 Form L 1 
 
 LB 
 875 
 P29 1 2 

 
 
 f'gd3S 
 
 fiMW 
 
 
 npif ■■ 
 
 ■>«), 
 
 P>PR1319«
 
 ii FORMAL SCHOO> 
 LEGTB"RES ■ 
 
 ON THE 
 
 Science and Art of Education. 
 
 WITH OTHER LECTURES AND ESSAYS. 
 
 BY THE LATE 
 
 JOSEPH PAYNE. 
 
 THE FIRST PROFESSOR OF THE SCIENCE AND ART OF EDUCATION IN 
 THE COLLEGE OF PRECEPTORS, OF LONDON. 
 
 BEADING CLUB EDITION. 
 
 INDEXED BY HEADLINES, AND WITH FULL ANALYSES. 
 
 By C. ^A/. BARDEEN 
 
 SYRACUSE, N. Y. : 
 
 C. W. BARDEEN, PUBLISHER. 
 
 1885. 
 
 Gopyriglit, 1885, by C. W, Bardbbn.
 
 THE FOLLOWIIS^G BOOKS, 
 
 FEEQUENTLY REFERRED TO IN THIS VOLUME, MAY BE HAD 
 OF THE PUBLISHER AT THE PRICES ANNEXED. 
 
 Quick's "Essays on Educational Roformers," $ 1.50 
 
 (See pp. 61, 110, 129, 130, 183, 231, 243.) 
 
 Wilson's "On Teaching Natural Science in Schools," 25 
 
 {See pp. 140,220.) 
 Youman's " Culture demanded by Modern Life,"... 2.00 
 
 (See pp. 62.) 
 Youmanss's " First Book in Botany," .75 
 
 " " Second Book in Botany,". 1.30 
 
 (See pp. 218, 245.) 
 
 Fitch's "Lectures on Teaching," 1.25 
 
 (See p. 80.) 
 
 Ascham's "The Schoolmaster," Reprint .50 
 
 (See pp. 123-128.) 
 
 Krlisi's "Life and Work of Pestalozzi," .. 1.50 
 
 (See pp. 231.) 
 
 Rousseau's " Emile," in French _ 1.00 
 
 The Same, translated, 2 vols., 8vo, 10.00 
 
 3 or 4 vols., 16mo, 5.00 
 
 " " " abridged, ._ 1.00 
 
 Pestalozzi's "Leonard and Gertrude," trans., abridged, 1.00 
 
 Address, C. W. BARDEEN. Syracuse, N. Y.
 
 
 {FhiU Analyses loill be found at the dose of each chapter.) 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Preface - - - - - - iv 
 
 Introduction, by the Rev. R. H. Quick vi 
 
 Obituary Notice... xii 
 
 The Science and Art of Education - 17 
 
 The Theory or Science of Education 49 
 
 The Practice or Art of Education 86 
 
 Educational Methods 116 
 
 Principles of the Science of Education. _. 156 
 
 Theories of Teaching, with their Corresponding Practice 165 
 
 The Importance of the Training of the Teacher. 189 
 
 The True Foundation of Object-Teaching 211 
 
 Pestalozzi: the Influence of his Principles and Practice on 
 
 Elementary Education. 228 
 
 (See also pp. 130-137.) 
 Froebel and the Kindergarten System of Elementary Educa- 
 tion 254 
 
 111
 
 PREFACE 
 
 BY THE AMERICAN EDITOR. 
 
 The wide adoption of this portion of Joseph Payne's 
 addresses as a manual for Reading Circles among teach- 
 ers, has led to frequent complaint that long paragraphs, 
 repetitions, and different analyses at different times of 
 the same subject, have made it difficult thoroughly to 
 master the editions already published. 
 
 Accordingly I have prepared this new edition with 
 these features: 
 
 (1) The pages are indexed by head lines, the left- 
 hand giving the title of the lecture, and the right-hand 
 giving the particular topic under discussion. 
 
 (2) Each lecture is followed by a somewhat minute 
 analysis, convenient not only for review, but for com- 
 parison with treatments of the same subject in other 
 lectures. 
 
 It must be remembered that this volume was not 
 prepared by the author as a text-book, but is simply a 
 compilation of addresses and papers delivered at differ- 
 ent times and under different circumstances. Hence 
 the same truth is often repeated, not only in different 
 expression, but with different application. Only by an 
 intelligent comparison of these various statements can 
 Prof. Payne's views be thoroughly understood ; and for 
 this comparison these analyses are almost indispensable. 
 
 The central principle of Prof. Payne's system stands
 
 PREFACE. V 
 
 out boldly, and is reiterated at every opportunity: that 
 the pupil knows only what he has discovered for him- 
 self, and that in this process of discovery the teacher is 
 only a guide. A comparison of the analyses given will 
 show how often this truth is stated, and how variously 
 
 it is demonstrated. 
 
 C. W. BARDEEN. 
 
 Syracuse, April 15, 1885.
 
 INTEODUOTIOIN^ 
 
 BY THE EEV. R. H. QUICK, AUTHOR OF "ESSAYS ON 
 EDUCATIONAL REFORMERS," ETC. 
 
 A few words of introduction seem necessary to tell 
 the general reader what it concerns him to know about 
 the author of this volume, and his practical acquaint- 
 ance with education. 
 
 At an early age Mr. Payne became an assistant in a 
 London school; and, as he himself maintained, he 
 would have fallen into the ordinary groove of routine 
 teaching had he not accidentally become acquainted 
 with the princiijles of the French reformer Jacotot, and 
 been fired with the enthusiasm which Jacotot succeeded 
 in kindling far and wide both in his own country and in 
 Belgium. In England Mr. Payne was the first (in im- 
 portance, if not in time) of Jacotot's disciples; and 
 finding that the new principles entirely changed his 
 notion of the teacher's ofiice, and turned routine into a 
 course of never-ending experiment and discovery, he 
 forthwith set about preaching the new educational 
 evangel. Though a very young man and with small 
 resources, he published an account of Jacotot's system 
 (1830), and gave public lectures to arouse teachers to a 
 sense of its importance. The system interested a lady, 
 who induced Mr, Payne to undertake the instruction of 
 her own children: and this family became the nucleus 
 of a large school under Mr. Payne's management at 
 vi
 
 MR. PAYNE AS A REFORMER. Vll 
 
 Denmark Hill. Some years afterwards, Mr. Payne es- 
 tablished himself at the Mausion House, Letlierhead, 
 where he was still very successful as a schoolmaster, 
 and whei-e he acquired the means of retiring, after 
 thirty years' work, from the profession. In his school- 
 keeping, and in all his undertakings, even his studies, 
 Mr. Payne was greatly assisted by his wife,, a lady who 
 had herself been engaged in education, and who entered 
 into his pursuits with the sympathy of the intellect as 
 well as of the heart, till she was called away, only a 
 few months before her husband. Believing as I do that 
 Mr. Payne's labors have had and will have a great influ- 
 ence on education in this country, I feel bound to bear 
 this testimony to her by whom he was so greatly assisted. 
 We have seen that Mr. Payne became early in life an 
 enthusiastic theorist. We most of us have our enthusi- 
 asms when we are young, and teachers like other people, 
 at first expect to do great things, and make great ad- 
 vances on the practice of their predecessors. But as 
 they grow older the enthusiasms die out. All sorts of 
 concessions to use and wont are enforced upon them; 
 and by degrees they find there is much to be said for 
 the usual methods. These methods are, for the master 
 of all events, the easiest ; and they have this great 
 advantage, that they lead to the expected results. 
 Changes might lead to unexpected results, and these 
 would not find favor with parents. If we do well 
 what other peoph^ are doing, and doing in some cases 
 very badly, we shall please everybody; and why not be 
 satisfied with that which satisfies our employers? In 
 this way we find excuses for our failing energy, and by 
 the time we have experience enough to judge what
 
 Alll INTRODUCTION. 
 
 reforms are jjossible, we have settled down into indo- 
 lent contentment with things as they are. To this law 
 of the decay of enthusiasms Mr. Payne's career shows 
 us a striking exception. In early life an interest in 
 principles had changed his occupation from a dull 
 routine to an absorbing intellectual pursuit, and as he 
 went on he found that his study of theory instead of 
 making him " unpractical " gave him great practical 
 advantages. His pupils did not fail in ordinary ac- 
 quirements; and their memory, even for Latin Gram- 
 mar, was developed without any assistance from the 
 cane. When I first became acquainted with Mr. Payne, 
 he had retired from his school, and I do not know l;ow 
 far he succeeded in carrying (nit his principles. That 
 they had constant influence over him, no one who knew 
 him would for an instant doubt; but probably, like all 
 high-minded men, he fell far short of his own ideal. 
 But the more he taught hiraselt; and the more he had to 
 direct other teachers, the stronger grew his conviction 
 that education should be studied scientifically, that 
 principles should direct practice, and further that the 
 main cause of weakness in our t^chool system lay in our 
 teacher's ignorance of the nature of their calling, and 
 of the main truths about it already established. The 
 consequence was that when after many years of labor 
 he found himself able to spend his remaining days as he 
 chose, he set to work with an enthusiasm and energy 
 and self-devotion rarely found even in young men, to 
 arouse teachers to a sense of their deficiencies and to be 
 a jiioneer in the needed science of education. It Avas, I 
 believe, mainly owing to his influence, and to that of 
 his friend Mr. C. H. Lake, that the College of Precep-
 
 MR. PAYNE S WOKK. ]X 
 
 tors instituted an examination for teachers, the first 
 held in the country. In 1872, the College took another 
 important step, and uppointed the first English Profes- 
 sor of tlie Science and Art of Education. The Profes- 
 sor appointed was Mr. Payne, and no man could have 
 heen found with higher qualifications. He had always 
 been a diligent student, and had much wider culture 
 than is usually found in schoolmasters, or indeed in any 
 class of hardworked men, and his habits of reading and 
 writing now gave him ^-eat advantages. But these 
 would have been of little avail had he not possessed the 
 main requisite for the professorship as few indeed pos- 
 sessed it, viz., a profound belief in the present value 
 and future |)ossibililies of the Science of Education. 
 No work could have been more congenial to him than 
 endeavoring to awaken in young teachers that sj^irit of 
 inquiry into piiuciples, which he had found the salt of 
 his own life in the schoolroom. And short as his tenure 
 of the Professorsliip unhnppily proved, he succeeded in 
 his endeavor, and left behind him students who have 
 learnt from him to make their practice as teachers more 
 beneficial to othei's and infinitely more pleasurable to 
 themselves, by investigating the theorj^ which not oidy 
 explains right practice, but also points out the way to it. 
 
 That interest in education as a science and an art 
 which was awakened by the delivery of Mr. Payne's 
 lectures, will one day, I trust, be more widely spread by 
 their publication. The papers in this volume have 
 already appeared at different times, and they are now 
 for the first time collected. But there are numerous 
 lectures which still remain in MS. 
 
 M]-. Payne always spoke of Jacotot as "his master,"
 
 X INTRODUCTION. 
 
 and in one of the paradoxes of Jacotot is contained the 
 principle which takes the leading place in Mr. Payne's 
 teaching Jacotot exposed himself to the jeers of 
 schoolmasters by asserting that a teacher who under- 
 stood his business could " teach what he did not know." 
 By teacher is usually understood one who communicates 
 knowledge. This meaning of the word, however, Avas 
 unsatisfactory to Jacotot and to his English disciple. 
 What is knowledge? Knowledge is the abiding result 
 of some action of the mind. ' Whoever causes the mind 
 of pupils to take the necessary action teaches the pupils, 
 and this is the only kind of teaching which Mr. Payne 
 would hear of. Tlius we see that Jacotot's paradox 
 points to a new conception of the teacher's function. 
 The teacher is not one who "tells," but one who sets 
 the learner's mind to v/ork, directs it and regulates its 
 rate of advance. In order to "tell," one needs nothing 
 beyond a form of words which the pupils may repro- 
 duce with or without comprehension. But to "teach," 
 in Mr. Payne's sense of the word, a vast deal more was 
 required, an insight into the working of the pupil's 
 mind, a power of calling its activities into play, and of 
 directing them to the needful exercise, a perception of 
 results, and a knowledge how to render those results 
 permanent. Such was Mr. Payne's notion of the teach- 
 er's ofllice, and this notion lies at the root of all that he 
 said and wrote about instruction. It would be useless 
 to attenipt to decide how far the conception was origi- 
 nal with him. " Everything reasonable has been thought 
 already," says Goethe. Mr. Payne, as we have seen, 
 was always eager to declare his obligations to Jacotot. 
 The same notion of the teacher is found in the utter-
 
 .TACOTOT S PARADOX. XI 
 
 aoces of otiicr men, especially of Pestalozzi and FroebeU 
 But when such a conception becomes part and parcel of 
 a mind like Mr. Payne's, it forthwith becomes a fresh 
 force, and its influence spreads to others. 
 
 To elevate the teacher's conception of his calling was 
 the task to wbich Mr. Payne devoted the latter years of 
 his iife; but those who knew him best, desire to see 
 his influence extended by this and other publications of 
 his writings, that he may still be a worker in the cause 
 which he had at heart. 
 
 January, 1880. R. H. QUK K.
 
 MR. JOSEPH PAYNE. 
 
 The subjoiupd Obituaiy Notice appeared shortly after Mr. Payne's 
 death, in the Educational Times for June 1st, 1876. 
 
 It would be difficult to over-estimate the loss which 
 the cause of educational progress and reform has sus- 
 tained by the recent death of Mr. Joseph Payne. At 
 the present juncture, when so great an impetus has been 
 given to popular education, and such rapid strides are 
 being taken, not alwaj^s with the clearest light, or in.the 
 wisest direction, and when the guidance and influence of 
 men of wide experience, careful thought, and untiring 
 devotion, are more than ever necessary, few could be 
 named whose place it would be more difficult to supply. 
 
 Those who had the privilege of knowing Mr. Payne 
 are aware that, both as a theorist and as a practical 
 teacher, he had made it the business of his life to expose 
 the futility of the unintelligent routine with which edu- 
 <3ators have too commonly contented themselves, and to 
 rouse teachers to replace it by methods which would call 
 the expanding faculties of the young scholar into health- 
 ful activity, which would promote and regulate their 
 development by well-considered and sympathetic guid- 
 ance, and would direct their action to the best and 
 wisest ends. In short, he strove to make education a 
 I reality instead of a pretence. With this view he cou- 
 stajitly insisted on the too often forgotten trutli, that 
 xii
 
 BIRTH AND EARLY KDUCATIOX. XUI 
 
 the only teaching that is \vortl)y of the name is that 
 which enables the learner to teach himself, that which 
 awakens in hini the desire for knowledge, and guides 
 him by the surest and readiest methods to its attainment. 
 Such teaching proceeds upon intelligent and scientific 
 principles, and demands of the teacher something differ- 
 ent from the hum-drum giving of routine lessons. As 
 the obvious corolhiry of this, i\lr. Payne urged upon 
 teaebeis the necessity of mastering the true principles 
 that should guide them in the exercise of their profes- 
 sion, and of rousing themselves to the perception of the 
 truth that the teacher must learn how to teach,' that he 
 must not only know thoroughly and fundamentally that 
 which he teaches, but must study well the laws which 
 govern the exercise and development of the faculties of 
 those whom he teaches; that he must know both the 
 lesson and the scholar, and the means by which the two 
 may be brought into fruitful contact. These aims Mr. 
 Payne pursued throughout his life, unobtrusively in- 
 deed, yet with single-minded enthusiasm, and unswerv- 
 ing tenacity of purpose. 
 
 Mr. Payne was born at Bury St. Edmund's on the 2d 
 of March, 1808. His early education was very incom- 
 plete, and it was not till he was about fourteen years 
 old that, at a school kept by a Mr. Freeman, he came 
 under the instruction of a really competent teacher. 
 This advantage, however, he did not enjoy very long. 
 At a comparatively early age he was under the necessity 
 of getting his own living, which he did partly by teach- 
 ing, partly by writing for the press. His life at this 
 period was laborious, and not altogether free from pri- 
 vations. He found time, however, for diligent study,
 
 XIV OBITUAKY NOTICE. 
 
 and numerous extract and common-place books testify 
 to the wide range of his reading in the ancient classics 
 and in English literature. 
 
 When he was al)Out twenty years of age he became a 
 private tutor in the family of Mr. David Fletchei*, of 
 Camberwell. His exceptional aptitude for teaching, 
 and his energetic devotion to study attracted the appre- 
 ciation and sympathy of the mother of his young pu]nls. 
 The children of one or two neighbors were admitted to 
 share the benefits of his instruction, and thus a small 
 preparatory school sprang up. Under his zealous and 
 able direction it increased in numbers and consideration, 
 till it expanded into the importaiit school known as 
 " Denmark Hill Grammar School," carried on in a fine 
 old mansion (recently demolislied) on Denmark Hill. 
 Here, in partnershij) with Mr, Fletcher, he continued 
 his labors for sorrie years. 
 
 In 1837 Mr. Payne married Miss Dyer, a lady who 
 was at the head of a girls' school of high repute, which 
 she continued to carry on for some time. In her he had 
 the happiness of obtaining, as the partner of his life, a 
 lady of great energy of character, of tact and method 
 in the conduct of affairs, and admirably suited to sym-, 
 pathize with him in the aims and ambitions of his life. 
 
 Mr, Payne's connection with the school at Camber- 
 well continued till the year 1845, when he established 
 himself independently at the Mansion House, Lether- 
 head. Here he labored with great energy and success 
 for about eighteen years, his school taking rank as one 
 of the very first private schools in this country. In 
 1863, having acquired a modest competence, he with- 
 drew from the active cares of his profession. None the
 
 HIS WORK FOR EDUCATION. XV 
 
 less, however, did he continue to devote himself strenu- 
 ously to the cause of educational proQ;ress. He took a 
 lively and active interest in several of the most import- 
 ant movements having this for their purpose, such (for 
 example) as the " Women's Education Union," and the 
 "■ Public Girls' School Company," the improvement of 
 women's education havinj^- long been one of his most 
 cherished objects. By lectures, and through the press, 
 and by his active and energetic participation in the 
 operations carried on by the College of Preceptors, he 
 still zealously pursued the great object of his life — the 
 advancement of education by the improvement of the 
 methods, and the elevation of the character and status 
 of the teacher. The Kindergarten system of Froebel 
 was one in which he took a keen interest. He studied 
 profoundly the methods and systems of all who have 
 obtained celebrity as educators, and Pestalozzi and Jaco- 
 tot had in him a warm admirer and an able exjjositor. 
 When a Professorship of the Science and Art of Educa- 
 tion (the first of its kind) was established by the College 
 of Preceptors, he was unaminously elected to occupy 
 that Chair. 
 
 Throughout his life Mr. Payne was a hard student. 
 Till but a few months before his death, he was wont to 
 continue his work into the small hours of the morning. 
 He was especially interested in the history of the devel- 
 opment of the English language, and the characteristics 
 of the different dialects, and more particularly in the 
 history of the Norman-French element. This led him 
 to a rather extensive study of the dialects of French, 
 and the history of the French language generally. A 
 paper of great value by him on these subjects appears
 
 XVI . OBI'l ITART NOTICE. 
 
 in the "Transactions of the Pliilohigical Society," of 
 which he was one of the most distinguished and active 
 members. 
 
 Mr. Payne's life had been too laborionsiy occupied to 
 leave time for the composition of any large literary 
 works; but his little volume of "Select Poetry for 
 Children " is one of the very best of its class, and his 
 " Studies in English Prose," and " Studies in English 
 Poetry," have met with a wide appreciation. Among 
 various lectures and pamphlets published by him, may 
 be mentioned: — "Three Lectures on the Science and 
 Art of Education," delivered at the College of Pre- 
 ceptors in 1871. "The True Foundation of Science 
 Teaching," a lecture delivered at the College of Pre- 
 ceptors in 1872. " The Importance of the Training of 
 the Teacher." " The Science and Art of Education," an 
 introductory lecture delivered at the College of Precept- 
 ors. "Pestalozzi," a lecture delivered at the College of 
 Preceptors in 1875. " Froebel and the Kindergarten 
 System," a lecture delivered at the College of Precept- 
 ors. "The Curriculum of Modern Education." 
 
 The death of his wife, which occured in the autumn 
 of last year, probably aggravated the symptoms of a 
 malady of some standing, which terminated on April 
 30th, 1876, a life of singular purity and nobleness of 
 aim, of strenuous and unintermitting industry, and of 
 unselfish devotion to high and M^orthy ends.
 
 THE SCIENCE AND ART OF EDUCATION; 
 
 At the beginning of last year, I deliverpcl in this room, 
 a lecture intended to inaugurate the Course of Lectures 
 and Lessons on the Science and Art of Education, which 
 the Council of the College of Pi-eceptors had appointed 
 me to undertake. The experiment then about to be 
 tried was a new one in this country; for, although we 
 have had for some years Colleges intended to prepare 
 Elementary Teachers for their work, nothing of the kind 
 existed for Middle Class and Higher Teachers. As I 
 stated in that Inaugural Lecture, the Council of the 
 College of Preceptors, after waiting in vain for action 
 on the part of the Government or of the Universities, 
 and attempting, also in vain, to obtain the influential 
 co-operation of the leading scholastic authorities in aid 
 of their object, resolved to make a beginning themselves. 
 They therefore adopted a scheme laid before them by 
 one of their colleagues — a lady — and offered the First 
 Professorship of the Science and Art of Education to me. 
 
 We felt that some considerable difficulties lay in the 
 way of any attempt to realize our intentions. Among 
 these, there were two especially on which I will dwell 
 for a few minutes. The first was, the opinion very gen- 
 erally entertained in this country, that there is no 
 Science of Education, that is, that there are no fixed 
 
 * An Introductory Lecture delivered at the College of Preceptors, on 
 the 20th January, 1874. 
 B 32
 
 18 THE SCIEXCE AND ART OF EDUCATION. 
 
 principles for the guidance of the Educator's practice. 
 It is generally admitted that there is a Science of Medi- 
 cine, of Law, of Theology; but it is 7iot generally 
 admitted there is a corresponding Science of Education, 
 The opinion that there is no such Science was, as we 
 know, courageously uttered by Mr. Lowe, but we also 
 know that there are hundreds of cultivated professional 
 men in England, who silently maintain it, and are prac- 
 tically guided by it. These men, many of, them distin- 
 guished proficients in the Art of teaching, if you venture 
 to suggest to them that there must be a correlated Science 
 which determines — whether they are conscious of it or 
 not — the laws of their practice, generally by a signifi- 
 cant smile let you know their opinion both of the subject 
 and of yourself. If they deign to open their lips at all, 
 it is to mutter something about "Pedagogy," "frothy 
 stuff," " mere quackery,"* or to tell you point-blank that 
 if there is such a Science, it is no business of theirs: 
 they do very well without it. This opinion, which they 
 no doubt sincerely entertain, is, liov/ever, simply the 
 product of thoughtlessness on their part. If they had 
 carefully considered the subject in relation to themselves 
 — if they had known the fact that the Science which 
 they disclaim or denounce has long engaged the atten- 
 tion of hundreds of the profoundest thinkers of Ger- 
 many — many of them teachers of at least equal standing 
 to their own — who have reverently admitted its preten- 
 
 * It Is remarkable that the dictionary meaning of "quack" is "a 
 boastful pretender to arts he does not understand," so that the asserter 
 of principles astlie foundation of correct practice is ignorantly denounced 
 as weak on the very point which constitutes his stren^h. One may imag- 
 ine the shouts of laughter with which such a denunciation would be, 
 receivedln an assembly of German experts in education.
 
 IS THERE SUCH A SCIENCE? 19 
 
 sions, and devoted their great powers of mind to the 
 investigation of its laws, they would, at least, have 
 given you a respectful hearing. But great, as we know, 
 is the power of ignorance, and it will prevail — for a 
 time. There are, however, even now, hopeful signs 
 which indicate a change of public opinion. Only a 
 week ago, a leader in the Times called attention to Sir 
 Bartle Frere's conviction expressed in one of his lectures 
 in Scotland, that "the acknowledged and growing 
 power of Germany is intimately connected with the 
 admirable education which the great body of the 
 German nation are in the habit of receiving." The edu- 
 cation of which Sir Bartle Frere thus speaks, is the 
 direct result of that very science which is so generally 
 unknown, and despised, because unknown, by our culti- 
 vated men, and especially by many of our most eminent 
 teachers. When this educated power of Germany, 
 which has already shaken to its centre the boasted mili- 
 tary reputation of France, does the same for our boasted 
 commercial reputation, as Sir Bartle Frere and others 
 declare that it is even now doing, and for our boasted 
 engineering reputation, as Mr. Mundella predicts it will 
 do, unless we look about us in time, the despisers of the 
 Science of education will adopt a different tone, and 
 perhaps confess themselves in error; at all events, they 
 will betake themselves to a modest and respectful silence. 
 No later^back than yesterday (January 19) the Times con- 
 tained three letters bearing on Sir Bartle Frere's asser- 
 tion that the increasing commercial importance of 
 Germany is due mainly to the excellence of German 
 education. One writer refers to the German Realschulen 
 or Thing-Schools and to the High Schools of Commerce,
 
 20 THE SCIENCK AND ART OF EDUCATION. 
 
 in both of which the practical study of matters bearing 
 on real life is conducted. Another writer, an Ex-Chair- 
 man of the Liverpool Chamber of Commerce, says, — "I 
 have no hesitation in stating that young Germans make 
 the best business men, and the reason is, that they are 
 usually better educated ; I mean by this, they have a 
 mure thorough education, which imparts to them accu- 
 racy and precision. Whatever they do is well and 
 accurately done, no detail is too small to escape their 
 attention, and this engenders a habit of thought and 
 mind, which in after life makes them shrewd and thor- 
 ough men of business. I think the maintenance of our 
 commercial superiority is very much of a schoolmaster's 
 question." A third wriier speaks of the young German 
 clerks sent out to the East as "infinitely superior" in 
 education to the class of young men sent out from Eng- 
 land, and ends by saying, " Whatever be the cause, 
 there can be no question that the Germans are outstrip- 
 ping us in the race for commercial superiority in the far 
 East." 
 
 Some persons, no doubt, will be found to cavil at 
 these statements; the only comment, however, I think it 
 necessary to make is this — " Germany is a country 
 where the Science of Education is widely and pro- 
 foundly studied, and where the Art is conformed to the 
 Science." I leave you to draw your own inferences. 
 Without, however, dwelling further on this important 
 matter, though it is intimately connected with my pur- 
 pose, I repeat that this dead weight of ignorance in the 
 public mind respecting the true claims of the Science of 
 Education, constitutes one of the difficulties witli which 
 we have had to contend. The writer of a leading arti-
 
 TEACHERS TOO SELF-CONTENTED. 21 
 
 cle in tlie Times, January 10, said emphatically, "In 
 triitli, iliere is nothing in which the mass of Englishmen 
 are so much in need of education as in appreciating the 
 value of Education itself." These words contain a 
 pregnant and melancholy truth, which will be more and 
 more acknowledged as time moves on. 
 
 But there was another difficulty of scarcely less import- 
 ance with which we had to contend, and this is the con- 
 viction entertained by the general body of teachers that 
 they have nothing to learn about Education. We are now 
 descending, be it remembered, from the leaders to the 
 great band of mere followers, from the officers of the 
 army to the rankjind file. My own experience, it may 
 well be believed, of teachers, has been considerable. As 
 the net result of it, I car. confidently affirm that until I 
 commenced my class in February last, I never came in 
 contact with a dozen teachers who were not entirely 
 satisfied with their own empirical methods of teaching. 
 To what others had written on the principles of Educa- 
 tion,— -to what these had reduced to successful practice, 
 — they were, for the most part, profoundly indifferent. 
 To move onward in the grooves to which they had been 
 accustomed in their school days, or if more intelligent, 
 to devise methods of their own, without any respect to 
 the experience, however enlightened, of others, was, and 
 is, the general practice among teachers. For them, 
 indeed, the great educational authorities, whether writers 
 or workers, might as well never have existed at all. In 
 short, to repeat what I said before, teachers, as a class 
 (there are many notable exceptions), are so contented 
 with themselves and their own methods of teaching that 
 they complacently believe, and act on the belief, that
 
 22 THE SCIENCE AND AKT OF EDUCATION. 
 
 they have nothing at all to learii from the Science and 
 Art of Education ; and this is much to be regretted for 
 their own sakes, and especially for the sake of their 
 pupils, whose educational health and well-being lie in 
 their hands. However this may be, the fact is unques- 
 tionable, that one of the greatest impediments to any 
 attempt to expound the principles af Education lies in 
 tbe unwarrantable assumption on the part of the teachers 
 that they have nothing to learn on the subject. Here, 
 however, as is often the case, the real need for a remedy 
 is in inverse proportion to the patient's consciousness of 
 the need. The worst teachers are generally those who 
 are most satisfied with themselves, and their own small 
 performances. 
 
 The fallacy, not yet displaced from the mind of the 
 public, on which this superstructure of conceit is raised, 
 is that " he who knows a subject can teach it." The 
 postulate, that a teacher should thoroughly know the 
 subject he professes to teach, is by no means disputed, 
 but it is contended that the question at issue is to be 
 mainly decided by considerations lying on the pupil's 
 side of it. The process of thinking, by which the pupil 
 learns, is essentially his own. The teacher can but stim- 
 ulate and direct, he cannot supersede it. He cannot do 
 the thinking necessary to gain the desired result for his 
 pupil. The i)roblem, then, that he has to solve is how 
 to get his pupil to learn ; and it is evident that he may 
 know the subject without knowing the best means of 
 making his pupil know it too, which is the assumed end 
 of all his teaching. He may be an adept in his subject, 
 but a novice in the art of teaching it — an art which has 
 principles, laws, and processes peculiar to itself.
 
 SCHOLARSHIP INSUFFICIENT. 23 
 
 But, again : a man, profoundly acquainted with a 
 subject, may be unapt to teach it by reason of the vei'y 
 height and extent of his knowledge. His mind habitu- 
 ally dwells among the mountains, and he has, therefore, 
 small sympathy with the toiling plodders on the plains 
 below. The difficulties which beset their path have long 
 ceased to be a part of his own experience. He cannot 
 then easily condescend to their condition, place himself 
 alongside of them, and force a sympathy he cannot nat- 
 urally feel with their trials and perplexities. Both 
 these cases tend to the same issue, and show that it is 
 fallacy to assert that there is any necessary connection 
 between knowing a subject and knowing how to teach it. 
 
 Our experiment was commenced on the 6th of Feb- 
 ruary last. On the afternoon of that day, only seven- 
 teen teachers had given in their names as members of 
 the class that was to be formed. In the evening, how- 
 ever, to my surprise, I found no fewer than tifty-one 
 awaiting the lecture. This nnmbei" was increased in a 
 few weeks to seventy, and on the whole, there have been 
 eighty members in the course of a year. Having 
 brought our little history down to the commencement of 
 the lectures in 18*73, I propose to occupy the remainder 
 of our time with a brief account of what was intended, 
 and what has been accomplished by them. 
 
 Generally speaking, the intention was to show (1) that 
 there is a Science of Education, that is, that there arj 
 principles derived from the nature of the mind which 
 furnish laws for the educator's guidance ; (2) that there 
 is an Art founded on the Science, which will be efficient 
 or inefficent in proportion to the educator's conscious 
 knowledge of its principles.
 
 24 THE SCIEXCE AND ART OF EDUCATION. 
 
 It will be, perhaps, remembered by some now present, 
 that I gave in my Inaugural Lecture a sketch of the man- 
 ner in which I intended to treat these subjects. As, 
 however, memories are often weak, and require to be hu- 
 mored, and as repetition is the teacher's sheet-anchor, I 
 may, perhaps, be excused if I repeat some of the matter 
 then brought forward, and more especially as I may cal- 
 culate that a large proportion of my audience were not 
 present last year. 
 
 I had to consider how I should treat the Science of 
 Education, especially in relation to such a class as I was 
 likely to have. It was to be expected that the class 
 would consist of young teachers unskilled in the art of 
 teaching, and perhaps even more unskilled in that of 
 thinking. Such in fact they, for the most part, proved 
 to be. No IV the Science of Education is a branch of 
 Psychology, and both Education and Psychology, as 
 sciences, may be studied either deductively or induct- 
 ively. We may commence with general propositions, 
 and work downward to the facts they represent, or up- 
 ward from the facts to the general proj5ositions. To 
 students who had been mainly occupied with the con- 
 crete and practical, it seemed to me much better to 
 commence with the concrete and practical ; with facts, 
 rather than with abstractions. But what facts ? That 
 was the question. There is no doubt that a given art 
 contains in its practice, for eyes that can truly see, the 
 principles which govern its action. The reason for do- 
 ing may be gathered from the doing itself. If, then, 
 we could be quite sure beforehand that perfect speci- 
 mens of practical teaching based on sound principles, 
 were accessible, we might have set about studying them
 
 NOT TO BE EVOLVKD FROM PltACTlCE. 25 
 
 carefully, with a view to elicit the principles which un- 
 derlie the ))r:ictice, and in this way we might have ar- 
 rived at a Science of Education. But then this involves 
 the whole question — Who is to guarantee dogmatically 
 the absolute soundness of a given method of teaching, 
 and if any one comes forward to do this, who is to guar- 
 antee the soundness of his judgment? 
 
 It appears, then, that although we might evolve the 
 principles of medicine from the general practice of 
 medicine, or the principles of engineering from the gen- 
 eral practice of engineering, we cannot evolve the prin- 
 ciples of education from the general practice of education 
 as we actually find it. So much of that jDractice is radically 
 and obviousl}'^ unsound, so little of sequence and co-ordi- 
 nation is there in its prtrts, eo aimless generally is its 
 action, that to search for the Science of Education in its 
 ordinary present practice would be a sheer waste of 
 time. We should find, for instance, the same teacher 
 acting one day, and with regard to one subject, on one 
 principle, and another day, or with regard to another 
 subject, on a totally different principle, all the time for- 
 getting that the mind really has but one method of 
 learning so as really to know, though multitudes of 
 methods may be framed for giving the semblance of 
 knowing. We see one teacher who is never satisfied un- 
 til he secures his pupils' possession of clear ideas upon a 
 given subject ; another who will let them go off with 
 confused and imperfect ideas ; and a third, who will 
 think his duty dune when he has stuffed them with mere 
 words — with husks instead of grain. It is then perfect- 
 ly clear that we cannot deduce the principles of true 
 science from varying practice of this kind ; and if we
 
 26 THE SCIENCE AND ART OF EDUCATION. 
 
 confine ourselves to inferences drawn from sncli prac- 
 tice, we shall never know what the Science of Educa- 
 tion is. Having thus shut ourselves off from dealing 
 with the subject by the high a^n'or/ method, commenc- 
 ing with abstract principles, and also from the unsatis- 
 factory method of reference founded on various, but 
 generally im|)erfect, practice ; and being still resolved, 
 if possible, to get down to a solid foundation on which 
 we might build a frabric of science, we were led to in- . 
 quire whether any system of education is to be found, 
 constant and consistent in its working, by the study of 
 which we might reach the desired end. On looking 
 round we saw that there is such a system continually at 
 work under our very eyes, — one which secures definite 
 results, in the shape of positive knowledge, and trains 
 to habit the powders by which these results are gained, 
 — which cannot but be consistent Avith the general na- 
 ture of things, because it is Nature's own. Here, then, 
 we have what we were seeking for — a system working 
 harmoniously and consistently towards a definite end, 
 and securing positive results — a system, too, strictly 
 educational, whether we regaixl the development of the 
 faculties employed, or the acquisition of knowledge, as 
 accompanying the development — a system in which the 
 little child is the Pupil and Nature the educator. 
 
 Having gained this stand-point, and with it a convic- 
 tion that if we could only understand this great educa- 
 tor's method of teaching and see the true connection 
 between the means he emjjloys and the end he attains, 
 we should get a correct notion of what is really meant 
 by education ; we next inquire, "How are we to proceed 
 for this purpose?" The answer is, by the method
 
 INVESTIGATION OF NATUKE's SYSTEM. 27 
 
 tlirougli which other truths are ascertained — by investi- 
 gation. We must do what the chemist, the physician, 
 the astronomer do, when they study their resi:>ective sub- 
 jects. We must examine into the facts, and endeavor 
 to ascertain, first, what they are ; secondly, what they 
 mean. Tlie bodily growth of the child from l)irth is, for 
 instance, a fast, which we can all observe for ourselves. 
 What does it mean '? It means lliat, under certain 
 external influences — such as air, light, food — the child 
 increases in material bulk and in physical power ; that 
 these influences tend to integration, to the forming of a 
 whole; that they are all necessary for that purpose; that 
 the withholding of any one of them leads to disintegra- 
 tion or the breaking up of the whole. But as we con- 
 tinue to observe, we see, moreover, evidences of mental 
 growth. We witness the birth of consciousness ; we see 
 the mind answering, through the sense, to the call of the 
 external world, and giving manifest tokens that impres- 
 sions are both received and retained by it. The child 
 " takes notice " of objects and actions, manifests feelings 
 of pleasure or pain in connection with them and indi- 
 cates a desire or w^ill to deal in his own way with the 
 objects, and to take part in the actions. We see that 
 this grow^th of intellectual power, shown by his increas- 
 ing ability to hold intercourse with things about him, is 
 closely connected with the growth of his bodily powers, 
 and we derive from our observation one important prin- 
 ciple of the Science of Education, that mind and body are 
 mutually inter dependeyit, and co-operate in promoting growth. 
 
 We next observe that as the baby, under the com- 
 bined ijifluences of air, light, and food, gains bodily 
 strength, he augments that strength by continually exer-
 
 28 THE SCIENCE AND ART OF EDUCATION. 
 
 cising it ; he uses the fuiid he has obtained, and by 
 using, makes it more. Exercise reiterated, almost unre- 
 mitting ; unceasing movement, apparently for its own 
 sake, as an end in itself ; the jerking and wriggling in 
 the mother's arms, the putting forth of his hands to 
 grasp at things near him, the turning of the head to look 
 at bright objects ; this exercise, these movements, con- 
 stitute his very life. He lives in them, and by them. 
 He is urged to exercise by stimulants from without; but 
 the exercise itself brings pleasure v/ith it {labor ipsevolup- 
 ^fls), is continued on that account, and ends in increase 
 of power. What applies to the body, applies also, by 
 the foregoing principle, to the intellectual powers, which 
 grow with the infant's growth, and strengthen with his 
 strength. Our observation of these facts furnishes us, 
 therefore, with a second principle of education — Faculty 
 of whatever hind grows hy exercise. Without changing our 
 ground we supplement this principle by another. We 
 see that the great educator who prompts the baby to 
 exercise, and connects pleasure with all his voluntary 
 movements, makes the exercise effectual for the i^urpose 
 in view by constant reiteration. Perfection in action is 
 secured by repeating the action thousands of times. The 
 baby makes the same movements over and over again ; 
 the muscles and the nerves learn to work together, and 
 habit is the result. Similarly in the case of the mind, 
 the impressions communicated through the organs of 
 sense grow from cloudy to clear, from obscure to defi- 
 nite, by dint of endless repetition of the functional act. 
 By the observation of these facts we arrive at a third 
 principle of education : — Exercise invoices repetition, which, as 
 regards bodily actions, ends in habits of action, and as regards^
 
 PRIXCIPLES LEARNED FROM NATURE. 29 
 
 impressions received by the mind, ends in clearness of perception. 
 
 Looking still at our baby as he pursues his education, 
 we see that this manifold exercise is only apparently an 
 end in itself. The true purpose of the teaching is to 
 stimulate the pupil to the acquisition of knowledge, and 
 to make all these varied movements subservient to that 
 end. This exercise of faculty brings the child into 
 contact with the properties of matter, initiates him into 
 the mysteries of hard and soft, heavy and light, etc., 
 the varieties of form, of round and flat, circular and 
 angular, etc., the attractive charms of color. 
 
 All this is knowledge gained by reiterated exercise 
 of the faculties, and stored up in the mind by its reten- 
 tive powder. We recognize the baby as a practical 
 inquirer after knowledge for its own sake. But we 
 further see him as a discoverer, testing the properties of 
 matter by making his own experiments npon it. He 
 knocks the spoon against the basin which contains his 
 food; he is pleased with the sound produced by his 
 action, and more than pleased, delighted, if the basm 
 breaks under the operation. He throws his ball on the 
 ground, and follows its revolution with his enraptured 
 eye. What a wonderful experiment it is ! How 
 charmed he is with the effect he has produced! He 
 repeats the experiment over and over again with un- 
 wearied as.siduity. The child is surely a Newton, or a 
 Farady, in petticoats. No, he is simply one of nature's 
 ordinary pupils, inquiring after knowledge, and gaining 
 it by his own unaided powers. He is teaching himself, 
 under the guidance of a great educator. His self-teach- 
 ing ends in development and growth, and it is therefore 
 strictly educational in its nature. In view of these facts
 
 30 THE SCIENCE AND ART OF EDUCATION. 
 
 we gain a fourth principle of the Science of Education. 
 The exercise of the chi^s own powers, stimulated but not super- 
 seded ly the educator''s interference, ends loth in the acquisition 
 of knowledge and in the invigoration of the powers for further 
 acquisition. 
 
 It is unnecessary to give further illustrations of our 
 method. Every one will see that it consists essentially 
 in the observation and investigation of facts, the most 
 important of which is that we have before us a pupil 
 going through a definite system of education. We are 
 convinced that it is education, because it develops fac- 
 ulty, and therefore conduces to development and growth. 
 By close observation we detect the method of the master, 
 and see that it is a method which repudiates cramming 
 rules and definitions, and giving wordy explanations, and 
 secures the pupil's utmost benefit from the work by 
 making him do it all himself through the exercise of his 
 unaided powers. We thus get a clue to the construction 
 of a Science of Education, to be built up, as it were, on 
 the organized compound of body and mind, to which we 
 give the name of baby. Continuing still our observa- 
 tion of the phenomena it manifests, first, in its speech- 
 less, and afterwai-ds in its speaking condition, we gain 
 other principles of education; and lastly, collegating and 
 generalizing our generalizations, we arrive at a defini- 
 tion of education as carried on by Nature. This may 
 be roughly expressed thus: — Natural education consists in 
 the development and training of the learner'' s powers, through iti- 
 fluetices of various kinds, which are initiated hy action from 
 without, met by corresponding reaction from within. 
 
 Then assuming, as we appear to have a right to do, 
 that this natural education should be the model or type
 
 EDUCATION DEFIXED. 31 
 
 of formal education, we somewhat modify our definition 
 thus — 
 
 Edxication is the developnent and training of the learner's 
 native powers hy means of instruction carried on through the 
 conscious and persistent agency of the formal educator, and de- 
 pends upon the established connection between the tvorld without 
 and the world within the mind —between the objective and the 
 subjective. 
 
 I am aware that tliis definition is defective, inasmuch 
 as it ignores — or appears to ignore — the vast fields of 
 physical and moral education. It will, however, serve 
 my present purpose, which is especially connected with 
 intellectual education. 
 
 Having reached this point, and gained a general 
 notion of a Science of Education, we go on to consider 
 the Art of Education, oi- the practical application of the 
 Science. We are thus led to examine the difference 
 between Science and Art, and between Nature and^ Art. 
 Science tells us what a thing is, and why it is what it is. 
 It deals therefore with the nature of the thing, with its 
 relations to other things, and consequently with the laws 
 of its being. Art derives its rules from this knowledge 
 of the thing and its laws of action, and says, "Do this 
 or that with the thing in order to accomplish the end 
 you have in view. If you act otherwise with it, you 
 violate the laws of its being." Now the rules of Art 
 may be carried out blindly or intelligently. If blindly, 
 the worker is a mere artisan — an operative who follows 
 routine, whose rule is the rule-of-thumb. If intelligent- 
 ly, he is a true artist, who not only knows what he is 
 doing, but why this process is right and that wrong, and 
 who is furnished with resources suitable for guiding
 
 32 THE SCIENCE AND ART OF EDUCATION, 
 
 norraal, and correcting abnormal, action. All the opera- 
 tions of the true artist can be justified by reference to 
 the principles of Science. But there is also a correlation 
 between Nature and Art. These terms are apparently, 
 but not really, opposed to each other. Bacon long ago 
 pointed out the true distinction when he said, Ars est 
 Homo additus Nature — Art is Nature with the addition of 
 Man — Art is Man's work added to (not put in the place 
 of) Nature's work. Here then is the synthesis of Nature 
 and Man Avhich justifies us in saying that natural educa- 
 tion is the type or model of^formal, or what we usually 
 call, without an epithet, education, and that the Art of 
 Teaching is the application by the teacher of laws of 
 Science,which he has himself discovered by investigating 
 Nature. This is the key-stone of our position ; if this 
 is firm and strong, all is firm and strong. Abandon this 
 position and you walk in darkness and doubt, not know- 
 ing what you are doing or whither you are n'andering 
 — at the mercy of every wind of doctrine. 
 
 The artist in education, thus equipped, is ready not 
 only to work himself, but to judge of the work of others. 
 He sees, for instance, a teacher coldly or sternly demand- 
 ing the attention of a little child to some lesson, say in 
 arithmetic. The child has never been led up gradually 
 to the point at which he is. He has none but confused 
 notions about it. The teacher, without any attempt to 
 interest the child, without exhibiting affection or sym- 
 pathy towards him, hastily gives him some technical 
 directions, and sends him away to profit by them as he 
 may — simply " orders him to learu," and leaves him to 
 do so alone. Our teacher says, —"This transaction is 
 inartistic. The element of humanity is altogethei- want-
 
 PRACTICAL APPLICATIONS. 33 
 
 ing iu it. It is uot in accorcliincc with the Science of 
 Education; it is a viohition of the Art. The great edu- 
 cator, in his leaching, presents a motive and an object 
 for voluntary action; und therefore excites attention 
 towards the object by enlisting the feelings in the 
 inquiry. He does not, it is true, show sympathy, because 
 he acts by inflexible rules. But the human educator, as 
 an artist, is bound not only to excite an interest in the 
 work, but to sympathize with the worker. This teacher 
 does neither. His practice ought to exemplify the for- 
 mula, Ars=Natura-\-Hoyno. He leaves out both Natura 
 and Homo. His Ars therefore=0." 
 
 Another case presents itself. Here the teaclier does 
 not leave the child alone; on the contrary, is continually 
 "by his side. At this moment he is copiously " impart- 
 ing his knowledge " of some subject to his pupil, whose 
 aspect showa that he is not receiving it, and who there- 
 fore looks puzzle<l. The matter, whatever it is, has evi- 
 dently little or no relation to the actual condition of the 
 child's mind, in which it finds no links of association and 
 produces no intellectual reaction, and which therefore 
 does not co-operate with the teacher's. He patiently 
 endures, however, because he cannot escape from it, the 
 down pouring of the teacher's knowledge ; but it is 
 obvious that he gains nothing from it. It passes over 
 his mind as water passes over a duck's back. The sub- 
 ject of instruction, before unknown, remains unknown 
 still. Our artist teacher, looking on, pronounces that 
 this teaching is inartistic, as not being founded on Sci- 
 ence. " The efticiency of a lesson is to be proved," he 
 says, "by the part taken in it by the pupil; and here 
 the teacher does all the work, the pupil does nothing at
 
 34 THE SCIENCE AND ART OF EDUCATION. 
 
 all. It is the teacher's mind, not the learner's that is 
 engaged in it. Our great master teaches by calling into 
 exercise the learner s powers, not by making a display of 
 his own. The child will never learn any tiling so as to 
 possess it for himself by such teaching as this, which 
 accounts the exercise of his own faculties as having little 
 or nothing to do with the process of learning." 
 
 Once more; our student, informed in the Science of 
 Education, watches a teacher who is giving a lesson on 
 language— say, on the mother tongue. This mother 
 tongue the child virtually knows how to use already; 
 and if he has been accustomed to educated society, 
 speaks and (if he is old enough to write) writes it cor- 
 rectly. The teacher puts a book into his hand, the first 
 sentence of which is, "English grammai- is the art of 
 speaking and writing the English language correctly." 
 The child does not know what an " art " is, nor what is 
 meant by speaking English " correctly." If he is intel- 
 ligent he wonders whether he speaks it "correctly" or 
 not. As to the meaning of " art," he is altogether at 
 sea. The teacher is aware of the perplexity, and desir- 
 ing to make him i-eally understand the meaning of the 
 word, attempts an explanation. " An art," he says (get- 
 ting the definition from a dictionary), " is a power of 
 doing something not taught by Nature." The child 
 stares with astonishment, as if you were talking Greek 
 or Arabic. What can be meant by a "power" — what 
 by "being taught by Nature"? The teacher sees that 
 his explanation has only made what was dark before 
 darker still. He attempts to explain his explanation, 
 and the fog grows thicker and thicker. At last he gives 
 it up, pronounces the child stupid, and ends by telling
 
 PRACTirAL APPLICATIONS. 35 
 
 him to leain by rote — that is, by hurdy-gurdy grind — 
 the uniutelligible words. That at least the child can do 
 (a parrot could be taught to do the same), and he does 
 it; but his mind has received no instruction whatever 
 from the lesson — the intelligence which distinguishes 
 the child from the parrot remains entirely uncultivated. 
 Our teacher proceeds to criticise, " This is," he says, 
 " altogther inartistic teaching." Our great master does 
 not begin with definitions — and indeed gives no defini- 
 tions — because they are unsuited to the pupil's state of 
 mind. He begins with facts wliich the child can under- 
 stand, because he observes them himself. This teacher 
 should have begun with facts. The first lesson in Gram- 
 mar (if indeed it is necessary to leach Grammar at ail to 
 a little child) should be a lesson on the names of the ol- 
 jects in the room — objects which the child sees and hand- 
 les, and knows by seeing and handling — that is, has 
 ideas of them in his mind. "What is the name of this 
 thing and of that ?" he inquires, and the child tells him. 
 The ideas of the things, and the names by which they 
 are known, are already associated together in his con- 
 sciousness, and he has already learned to translate things 
 into words. The teacher may tell him (for he could not 
 discover it for himself) that a name may also be called a 
 noun. " What then," the teacher may say, " is a noun ? " 
 The child replies, '■'■A noun is the name of a thing.^'' He has 
 constructed a definition himself — a very simple one cer- 
 tainly — but then it is a definition which he thoroughly 
 understands because it is his own work. This mode of 
 proceeding would be artistic, because in accordance with 
 Nature. There would be no need to commit the defini- 
 tion to memoiy, as a mere collection of words, because
 
 36 THE SCIENCE AND ART OF EDUCATION, 
 
 what it means is already committed to the understand- 
 ing which will retain it, because it represents facts al- 
 ready known and appreciated. Thoroughly knowing 
 things is tlie sure way to remember them." 
 
 In some such way as this our expert brings the pro- 
 cesses commonly called teaching to the touclistone of 
 his Science, the Science which he has, built up on his 
 observation of the processes of Nature. 
 
 I am afraid that, in spite of my illustrations, I may 
 still have failed to impress you as strongly as I wish to 
 do with the cardinal truth, that you cannot get the best 
 results of teaching unless you understand the mind with 
 which you have to deal. There are, indeed, teachers 
 endowed with the power of sympathizing so earnestly 
 with children, that in their case this sympathy does the 
 work of knowledge, or rather it is knowledge uncon- 
 sciously exercising the power proverbiallj^ attributed to 
 it. The intense interest they feel in their work almost in- 
 stinctively leads them to adopt the right way of doing it. 
 They are artists without knowing that they are artists. 
 But, speaking generally, it will be found that the only 
 truly efficient director of intellectual action is one who 
 understands intellectual action — that is, who under- 
 stands the true nature of the mind which he is directing. 
 It is this demand which we make on the teacher that 
 constitutes teaching as a psychological art, and which 
 renders the conviction inevitable that an immense num- 
 ber of those who practise it do so without possessing the 
 requisite qualifications. They undertake to guide a ma- 
 chine of exquisite capabilities, and of the most delicate 
 construction, without understanding its construction or 
 the range ol its capabilities, and especially without un-
 
 TEAPHING A PSYCHOLOGI'^AI, AKT. 37 
 
 derstaiiding the fundaraenta] principles of the science of 
 mechanics. Hence the telling, cramming, tlie endless^ 
 explaining, the note learning, wliicli enfeeble and deaden 
 the native powers of the child; and hence, as the final 
 consequence, the melancholy results of instruction in 
 our primary schools, and the scarcely less melancholy 
 results in schools of higher aims and pretensions, all of 
 which are the legitimate fruit of ihe one fundamental 
 error which I have over and over again pointed out. 
 
 In accordance with these views, it has heen insisted 
 on throughout the entire Course of Lectures, that teach- 
 ing, in the true sense of the term, has notliing in 
 common witi) the system of telling, cramming, and 
 drilling, which v«ry geneially ursurps its name. The 
 teacher, properly so called, is a man who, besides know- 
 ing the subject he has to teach, knows moreover the 
 nature of the mind which he has to direct in its acquisi- 
 tion of knowledge, and the best methods by which this 
 may be accomplished. He must know the subject of 
 instruction thoroughly, because, although it is not he 
 but the child who is to learn, his knowledge will enable 
 him to suggest the points to which the learner's atten- 
 tion is to be directed; and besides, as his proper func- 
 tion is to act as a guide, it is important that he should 
 have previously taken the journey himself. But we dis- 
 countenance the notion usually entertained that the 
 teacher is to know because he has to communicate his knowl- 
 edge to the learner; and maintain, on the contrary, that 
 his proper function as a teacher does not consist in the 
 communication of his own knowledge to the learner, but 
 rather in such action as ends in the learner's acquisition 
 of knowledge for himself. To deny this principle is to
 
 38 THE SCIEXCE AXD ART OF EDUCATION. 
 
 give a direct sanction to telling and cramming, which 
 are forbidden by the laws of education. To tell the 
 child what he can learn for himself, is to neutralize his 
 efforts; consequently to enfeeble his powers, to quench 
 his interest in the subject, probably to create a distaste 
 for it, to prevent him from learning how to learn — to 
 defeat, in slun-t, all the ends of true education. On the 
 'other hand, to get him to gain knowledge for himself 
 stimulates his efforts, strengthens his powers, quickens 
 his interest in the subject and makes him ttike pleasure 
 in learning it, teaches him how to learn other subjects, 
 leads to the formation of habits of thinking; and, in 
 short, promotes all the ends of true education. The ob- 
 vious objection lo this view of the case is, that as there 
 are many things which the child cannot learn by him- 
 self, we must of course tell him them. My answer is, 
 that the things which he cannot learn of himself are 
 things unsuited to the actual state of his mind. His mind 
 is not yet prepared for tljem; and by forciiigthem upon 
 him prematurely, you are injuriously anticipating the 
 natural course of things. You are cramming him with 
 that which, although it may be knowledge to you, can- 
 not possibly be knowledge to him. Knowing, in rela- 
 tion to the training of the mind, is the result of learning; 
 and learning is the process by which the child teaches 
 himself; and he teaches himself — he can only teach him- 
 self — by personal experience. Take, for instance, a por- 
 ti()n of matter which, for some cause or other, interests 
 liim. He exercises his senses iipon it, looks at it, hand- 
 les it, etc., throws it on the ground, flings it up into the 
 air; and while doing all this, compares it with other 
 things, gains notious of its color, form, hardness, weight,
 
 DIRECTIOX TOAVAKD SELF-ACTIVITY. 39 
 
 etc. The result is, that without atiy direct teaching 
 from you, without any telling, he knows it through his 
 personal experience — he knows it, as we say, of his own 
 knowledge; and has not only learned by himself some- 
 thing that he did not know before, but has been learn- 
 ing how to learn. But supposing that you are not satis- 
 fied with hisproceedingthus naturally and surely in the 
 career of self-acquisition, and you tell him something 
 which he could not possibly learn by this method of his 
 own. Let it be, for instance, the distance of the sun 
 from the earth, the superficial area of Sweden, etc. 
 When you have told him that the sun is 95 millions of 
 miles from the earth, that the area of Sweden is so many 
 square miles, you have evidently transcended his per- 
 sonal exj^erience. What you have told him, instead of 
 being knowledge gained, as in the other case, at first 
 hand, is information obtained probably at tenth or even 
 fifteenth hand, even by yourself, and is therefore in no 
 true sense of the word " knowledge " even to you, much 
 less is it knowledge to him; and in telling it to him pre- 
 maturely, you are cramming and notteacliing him. Dr. 
 John Brown ("Horae Subsecivse," Second serie.«, p. 473) 
 well says, — "The great thing with knowledge and the 
 young is to secure that it shall be their own; that it be 
 not merely external to their inner and real self, but shall 
 go in succum et sanguinem; and therefore it is that the self- 
 teaching that a baby and a child give themselves re- 
 mains with them forever. It is of their essence, whereas 
 what is given them ah extra, especially if it be received 
 mechanically without relish, and without any energiz- 
 ing of the entire nature, remains pitifully useless and 
 werih (insipid.) Try, therefore, always to get the resi-
 
 40 THE SCIENCE AND ART OF EDUCATION. 
 
 dent teacher inside the skin, and who is for ever giving bis 
 lessons, to help you, and be on your side," Yon easily 
 see from these remarks of Dr. Brown's that he means 
 what I mean; — that matters of information obtained by 
 other people's research, and which is true knowledge to 
 those who have lawfully gained it, is not knowledge to 
 a child, who has had no share in the acquisition, and 
 your dogmatic imposition of it upon his mind, or rather 
 memory only, is of the essence of cramming. Such in- 
 formation is nierely patchwork laid over the substance 
 of the cloth as compared with the texture of the cloth 
 itself. It is on, but not of, the fabric. This expansive 
 and comprehensive principle — which regards all learn- 
 ing by mere rote, even of such matters as the multiplica- 
 tion table or Latin declensions — before the child's mind 
 has had some preliminary dealing with the facts of Num- 
 ber or of Latin — as essentially crnmming, and therefore 
 anti-educational in its nature— will be of course, received 
 or rejected by teachers, Justin proportion tss they receive 
 or reject the conception of an art of teaching founded 
 on psychological principles. 
 
 And this brings me to the next point for special con- 
 sideration. I said that, the teacher who is to direct intel- 
 lectual operations should understai'd what they are. He 
 shoidd, especially as a teacher of little clnldren, examine 
 well the method, already referit-"d to, by which they gain 
 ;ill their elementary knowledge by themselves, by the 
 exercise of tlieir own powers, lie should study children 
 in the conci'ete, — take note of the causes which ojicrate 
 on the will, which enlist the feelings, which call forth the 
 intellect, — in order tiiat he mny use his knowledge with 
 the best effect when he takes the ])lace of the great
 
 TEACHIJs'G BASED ON PSYCHOLOGY. 41 
 
 natural educator. To cliange slightly Locke's worrls, be 
 is to "consider the operation of the discerning faculties 
 of a cliild as they are employed about the objects which 
 they have to do with; " and this because it is his proper 
 function as a teacher to guide this operation. And if he 
 wishes to be an accomplished teacher — a master of his 
 art — he should furtlier study the principles of Psychol- 
 ogy, the true groundwork of his action, in the writings 
 of Locke, Dugald Stewart, Bain, Mill, and others, who 
 show us what these principles are. This study will give 
 a scientific compactness and co-ordination to the facts 
 which he has learned by his own method of investiga- 
 tion. 
 
 But it may be said, Do you demand all this prepara- 
 tion for the equipment of a mere elementary teacher? 
 My reply is, I require it because he is an elementary 
 teacher. Whatever may be done in the case of those 
 children Avho are somewhat advauced in their career, 
 and who have, to some extent at least, learnt how to 
 learn, it is most of all important that in the beginning of 
 instruction: and with a view to gain the most fruitful 
 results from tliat instruction, the earliest teacher should 
 be an adept in the Science and Art of Education. We 
 should do as the Jesuits did in their famous schools, who, 
 when they found a teacher showing real skill and knowl- 
 edge in teaching the higher classes, promoted him to the 
 charge of the lowest. There was a wise insight into 
 human nature in this. Whether the child shall love or 
 hate knowledge, — whether his fundamental notions of 
 things .shall be clear or cloudy, — whether he shall 
 advance in his course as an intelligent being, or as a 
 mere machine, — whether he shall, at last, leave school
 
 42 THE SCIENCE AND ART OF EDUCATION. 
 
 stufifed with crude, undigested gobbets of knowledge, or 
 possessed of knowledge assimilated by his own diges- 
 tion, and therefore a source of mental health and 
 strength, — whether he shall be lean, atrophied, weak, 
 destitute of the power of self-government and self-direc- 
 tion, or strong, robust, and independent in thought and 
 action, — depends almost altogether on the manner in 
 which his earliest instruction is conducted, and this 
 again on the teacher's aquaintance with the Science and 
 Art of Education. 
 
 But besides knowing the subject of instruction, and 
 knowing the Art of Education founded on the Science, 
 the accomplished teacher should also know the methods 
 of teaching devised or adopted by the most eminent 
 practitioners of his art. A teacher, even when equipped 
 in the manner I have suggested, cannot safely dispense 
 with the experience of others. In applying principles to 
 practice there is always a better or a worse manner of 
 doing so, and one may learn much from knowing how 
 others have overcome the difficulties at which we 
 stumble. 
 
 Many a teacher, when doubtful of the principles which 
 constitute his usual rule of action, will gain confidence 
 and strength by seeing their operation in the practice of 
 others, or may be reminded of them when he has for the 
 moment lost sight of them. Is it nothing to a teacher 
 that Plato, Aristotle, Plutarch, Quintilian, in ancient 
 times; Ascham, Rousseau, Comenius, Sturm, Pestalozzi, 
 Ratich, Jacotot, Frobel, Richter, Herbart, Beneke, Dies- 
 terweg, Arnold, Spencer, and a host of others in modern 
 times, have written and worked to show him what edu- 
 cation is both ia theory and practice '? Does he evince
 
 THE HISTORY OF EDUCATIOX. 43 
 
 anythino; but his own ignoranco by pretending to despise 
 or ignore their labors '? What would be said of a medi- 
 cal practioner who knows nothing of the woiks or even 
 the names of Celsus, Galen, Harvey, John Hunter, 
 Sydenham, Bell, etc., and who sets up his empirical 
 practice against the vast weight of their authority and 
 experience? I need not insist on this argument; it is 
 too obvious. Much time, therefore, has been devoted, 
 during the year, to the History of Educr.tion in various 
 countries and ages, and to the special work of some of 
 the great educational reformers. In particular, the 
 methods of Ascham, Ratich, Comenius, Pestalozzi, 
 Jacotot, and Frobel have been minutely described and 
 criticised. 
 
 And now it is only right to endeavor, in conclusion, to 
 answer the question which may be fairly asked, " After 
 all, what have you really accomplished by this elaborate 
 exj^osition of principles and methods ? You have had 
 no training schools for the practice of your students; it 
 has all ended in talk." In reply to this inqiry or objec- 
 tion, 1 have a few Avords to say. The students whom I 
 have been instructing are for the most part teachers 
 already, who are practising their art every day. My 
 object has been so forcibly to stamp upon their minds a 
 few great principles, so strongly to iiaipress them with 
 convictions of the truth of these principles, that it should 
 be impossible, in the nature of things, for them as my 
 disciples, to act in contradiction or violation of them. 
 Whenever, in their practice, they are tempted to resort 
 to drill and cram, I know, without being there to see, 
 that the principles which have become a part of their 
 being, because founded on the truths of nature recog-
 
 44 THE SCIENCE ^ViCD AKT OF EDUCATION. 
 
 nized by themselves, rise up before tliem and forbid the 
 intended delinquency. In this way, without the appa- 
 ratus of a training school, the work of a training school is 
 done. 
 
 But, in order to show that I am not talking at ran- 
 dom, I will quote a few passages from exercises written 
 by the students themselves, relative to their own expe- 
 rience: — 
 
 " Before attending these Lectures, my aim was that my pupils 
 should gain a certain amount of knowledge. I now see how far 
 more important is the exercise of those powers by which knowl- 
 edge is gained. I am therefore trying to make them think for 
 themselves. This, and the principle of repetition, which has been 
 so much insisted upon, prevents us from getting over as much 
 ground as formerly, but I feel that the work done is much more 
 satisfactory than it used to be. I now try to adapt my plan to 
 the pupil, not the pupil to my plan. I used to prepare a lesson 
 (say in history) with great care; all the information which I thus 
 laboriously gained, I imparted to my pupils in a few minutes. I 
 now see that, though I was benefitted by the process, my pupils 
 could have gained but little good from it. The fact of having a 
 definite end in view gives me confidence in my practice. Tlie 
 effect of these Lectures, as a whole, has been to give me a new 
 interest in my work." 
 
 ' ' I knew before that the ordinary ' learu by rote ' method was 
 not real education; but being unacquainted with the Science 
 upon which the true art of instruction is founded, all my ideas 
 on the subject were vague and changeable, and 1 often missed 
 the very definite results of the ' hurdy gurdy' system without 
 altogether securing any better ones. 
 
 "I have learned that the only education worthy of the name is 
 based upon principles derived from the study of child nature, 
 and from the observation of nature's methods of developing and 
 training the inherent powers of children from the very moment 
 of their birth. I have had my eyes opened to observe these pro- 
 cesses, and now see much more in the actions of little children
 
 PRACTICAL RESULTS OF INSTRUCTION. 45 
 
 than I formerly did. More thaa this, I liave learned to apply 
 the principles of nature to the processes of formal education, and 
 by them to test their value and Tightness, so that I need no 
 longer be in doubt and darkness, but have sure grounds to pro. 
 ceed upon under any variation of circumstances. 
 
 " Lastly, I have learned to revereace and admire the great and 
 good, who in different ages and various countries have devoted 
 their minds to the principles or the practice of education, whose 
 thoughts, whose successes, whose very failures are full of instruc- 
 tion for educators of the present day, especially for those who, 
 having been,guided to tlie sure basis upon which true education 
 rests, are in a position to judge of the value of their different 
 theories and plans, and to choose the good and refuse the evil." 
 
 " What you have done for me, I endeavor to do for my pupils. 
 I make them correct their own errors; indeed, do their own work 
 as much as possible. Since you have been teaching me, my 
 pupils have progressed in mental development as they have never 
 done in all the years I have been teaching. Though from want 
 of power and early training I have not done you the justice which 
 many of your pupils have, still you have set your seal upon me, 
 and made me aim at being, what I was not formerly, a scientific 
 teacher." 
 
 "....And now to turn to the modifications introduced into 
 my practice by these Lectures. I was delighted with them, and 
 was more astonished as eacli week passed at what I heard. New 
 light dawned upon me, and I determined to profit by it. I soon 
 saw some of the prodigious imperfections in my teaching, and set 
 about remedying them. My ' pupils ^ould be self-teachers,' 
 then I must treat them as such. I left off telling them so much, 
 and made them work more. I discontinued correcting their exer- 
 cises, and made them correct them themselves. I made them look 
 over their dictation before they wrote it, and, when it was fin- 
 ished, referred them to the text-book to see whether they had 
 
 written it correctly Time would fail me to give in detail all 
 
 the alterations introduced into my practice." 
 
 "In conclusion, considering wh&t my theory and practice 
 were when I entered your class, I am convinced that the benefits
 
 46 THiE SCIENCE AND ART OE EDUCATION. 
 
 I have derived as regards both are as follows: — (1) I have learned 
 to observe, (3) to admire, (3) to imitate, and (4) to follow. Nature. 
 My theories have become based on the firm foundation of princi- 
 ples founded on facts; my practice (falling far short of the per- 
 fection that I aim at attaining) is nevertheless in the spirit of it. 
 And although in all probability I shall never equal any of these 
 great teachers whose lives and labors you have described, yet I 
 know that I shall daily improve in my practice if I hold fast to 
 the priuciples'that jon have laid down. I consider you have 
 shown me the value of a treasure that I unconsciously possessed — 
 I mean the power of observing Nature, and therefore I feel 
 towards you the same sort of gratitude that the man feels towardl 
 the physician who has restored his sight." 
 
 These expressions will show that my labors, however 
 imperfect, have not ended in mere talk. 
 
 And now it is time to set you free from the long 
 demand I have made on your patience. I have studi- 
 ously avoided in this Lecture tickling your ears with 
 rhetorical flourishes. My great master, Jacotot, has 
 taught me that " rhetoric and reason have nothing in 
 common." 1 have therefore appealed to your reason. 
 I certainly might have condensed my matter more; but 
 long experience in the art of intellectual feeding has 
 convinced me that concentrated food is not easy of 
 digestion. But fo^ this fault— if it be one — and for any 
 other, Avhether of commission or omission, I throw 
 myself on your indulgent consideration.
 
 THE SCIENCE AND ART OF EDUCATION-ANALYSIS, 
 
 A. The Science of Education. 
 
 I. Objections encountered. 
 
 1. That there is no Science of Education ...18 
 
 (a) Tlie experience of Germany 19 
 
 2. That Teachers liave Nothing to Learn 31 
 
 (a) That he who Icuows a subject can teach it 22 
 
 a But the problem is to gt t the pupil to learn 23 
 
 ft The teacher's scholarship may be an obstacle 23 
 
 II. Means of establishing a Science of Education 24 
 
 1. Wlio is to guarantee its soundness ? 25 
 
 2. Not to be evolved from present practice 25 
 
 3. Nature's system to be followed. 26 
 
 III. Principles discovered by investigation 27 
 
 1. Mind and body interdependent. 27 
 
 2. Faculty grows by exercise. 28 
 
 3. Exercise ends in habits and perception 29 
 
 4. Exercise ends in acquisition and invigoration. 30 
 
 5. Definition of Natural Education 31 
 
 6. Definition of Education 31 
 
 B. The Art of Education. 
 
 I. Science and Art distinguished 32 
 
 1. Science deals with essence; art with action 32 
 
 2. Art is nature with man added 32 
 
 3. Art is the application of the science .32 
 
 II. Applications of Art based on Science... 33 
 
 1. Teaching involves interest and sympathy 33 
 
 2. Teaching exercises the pupil's powers 34 
 
 3. Teaching begins with known facts... 36 
 
 III. The teacher must understand the pupil's mind 36 
 
 1. Sympathy may do the worli of knowledge. 37 
 
 2 But teaching is a psychological art 37
 
 48 THE SCIENCE AXD AKT OF EDUCATION. 
 
 3. Teaching vs. telling, cramming, drilling ..38 
 
 IV. The teacher to direct the pupil to self-activity 38 
 
 1. The pnpil unfitted for what he cannot learn by himself.. 39 
 (a) Knowledge should be the pupil's own 39 
 
 2. Hence the teacher must know the pupil's mind. 41 
 
 (a) Especially important in primary work 41 
 
 a Promotion downward 42 
 
 C. The History of Education .43 
 
 I. Confidence and strength from practice of others. 43 
 
 D. The Practical Resxdts of the Training of Teachers. 
 
 I. Extracts from letters 44
 
 THE THEORY 
 OR SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.* 
 
 It is proposed in this course of three Lectiires, to treat 
 of, 1st, The Theory or Science of Education; 2d, The 
 Practice or Art of Education; 3d, Educational Methods, 
 or special applications of the Science and Art. 
 
 The Science of Education is sometimes called Peda- 
 gogy or Paideutics, and the Art of Education, Didactics. 
 There seems, however, no need for these technical terms. 
 The expressions Science and Art of Education are ex- 
 plicit, and sufficiently answer the purpose. 
 
 The Theory or Science, as distinguished from the Prac- 
 tice or Art, embraces an inquiry into the principles on 
 which the Practice or Art depends, and which give 
 reasons for the efficiency or inefficiency of that practice. 
 I do not profess in this Lecture to construct the Science 
 of Education — that still waits for its development. As, 
 however, its ultimate evolution depends very bqucIi on 
 a general recognition of its value and importance, I pro- 
 pose to indicate a few of its principles, as well as some of 
 the sources from which they may be derived ; and further, 
 to show the need for their application to the present 
 condition of the art. 
 
 In the progress of knowledge, practice ever precedes 
 theory. We do, before we enquire why we do. Thus 
 the practice of language goes before the investigation 
 
 * Delivered at the House of the Society of Arts, on 12th July, 18T1 ; 
 Professor Huxley, LL.D., in the Chair. 
 
 C 49
 
 50 THEORY OF EDUCATION. 
 
 into its laws, and the Art before tlie Science of Music. 
 It is the same with Education. The practice has long 
 existed; but the theory has, as yet, been only partially 
 recognized. As, however, theory re-acts on practice, 
 and improves it, we may hope to see the same results in 
 Education, when it shall be scientifically investigated. 
 
 As the terms Education and Instruction will fre- 
 quently occur in these Lectures, it may be convenient 
 at the outset to enquire into their exact meaning. 
 
 The verb educare, from which we get our word educate, 
 differs from its primitive et^Mcere in this respect, that while 
 the latter means to draw forth by a single act, the form- 
 er, as a sort of frequentative verb, signifies to draw forth 
 frequently, repeatedly, persistently, and therefore strong- 
 ly and permanently; and in a secondary sense to draw 
 forth faculties, to train or educate them. An educator 
 is therefore a trainer, whose functions it is to draw forth 
 persistently, habitually and permanently, the powers of 
 a child, and education is the process which he employs 
 for this purpose. 
 
 Then as to Instruction. The Latin verb instruere, from 
 which we derive instruct, means to place materials to- 
 gether, not at random, but for a j^urpose — to pile or 
 heap them one upon another in an orderly manner, as 
 parts of a preconceived whole. Instruction, then, is the 
 orderly placing of knowledge in the mind, with a defi- 
 nite object. The mere aggregation, by a teacher, in the 
 minds of his pupils, of incoherent ideas, gained by desulto- 
 ry and unconnected mental acts, is no more mstriictioniham 
 heaping bricks and stones together is building a house. 
 The true instructor is never contented with the mere 
 collection of materials, however valuable in themselves.
 
 EDUCATION Vs. INSTRUCTION. 61 
 
 but continually seeks to make them subservient to the 
 end he has in view. He is an educational Ampliion, under 
 whose influence the bricks and stones move together to 
 tlie place wliere they are wanted, and grow into the form 
 of a harmonious fabric. 
 
 Instruction thus viewed, is not, as some conceive of it, 
 the antithesis of Education, nor generically distinct from 
 it. Every educator is an instructor; for education 
 attains its ends through instruction; but, as will be 
 shown, the instructor who is not also consciously an ed- 
 ucator, fails to accomplish the highest aims of his 
 science. The instruction which ends in itself is not 
 complete education. 
 
 But we will now attempt to give a definition of Edu- 
 cation. 
 
 Education, in its widest sense, is a general expression 
 that comprehends all the influences which operate on 
 the human being, stimulating his faculties to action, 
 forming his habits, moulding his character, and making 
 him what he is.* Though so powerfully affected by 
 these influences, he may be entirely unconscious of them. 
 They are to him as "the wind which bloweth where it 
 listeth; but he knows not whence it cometh nor whither 
 it goeth." They are not, however, less real on this ac- 
 count. The circumstances by which he is surrounded — 
 the climate, the natural scenery, the air he breathes, the 
 food he eats, the moral tone of the family life, that of 
 the community — all have a share in converting the raw 
 material of human nature, either into healthy, intelli- 
 gent, moral, and religious man; or, on the contrary, in 
 
 *" Wliatever," says Mr. J. S. Mill, " helps to shape the human being, 
 to make the individual what he is, or hinder him from being what he is 
 not, is part of his education."— luauawraJ Address at St. Andreivs,
 
 52 THEOKY OF EDUCATION. 
 
 coiiveitino^ it into an emhodiraent of weakness, stupid- 
 ity, wickedness, and misery. Thus external influences 
 automatically acting upon a neutral nature, produce, 
 each after its kind, the most opposite results. In this 
 sense the poor little gamin of our sti'eets, who defiles the 
 air with his blasphemies, whose thoughts are of the 
 dirt, diriy, who picks our pockets with a clear con- 
 science, has been duly educated by the impure atmosphere, 
 the squalid misery, the sad examples of act and speech 
 presented to him in his daily life — to be the outcast 
 that he is. Such instances show the wondrous power 
 of the eductition of circumstance. 
 
 It is a noticeable characteristic of this kind of educa- 
 tion, that its pupils rarely evince of their own accord 
 any desire for improvement, and are in this respect 
 scarcely distinguishable from barbarians. The savages 
 of our race remain savages, not because they have not 
 the same original faculties as ourselves — faculties gen- 
 erally capable of improvement — but because they have 
 no desire for improvement. Nature does indeed furnish 
 her children with elementary lessons. She teaches them 
 the use of the senses, language, and the qualities of 
 matter, but she leaves them to procure advanced knowl- 
 edge for themselves, while she implants in their minds 
 neither motive nor desire for its acquisition. The dif- 
 ferentia of the savage is, that he has rarely any wish 
 for self-elevation. It is sad to think how many savages 
 of this kind we have still amongst ourselves! 
 
 But education is conscious as well as unconscious. 
 Some cause or other suggests the desire for improve- 
 ment. The teacher appears in the field, and civilization 
 begins its career. The civilization which we contrast
 
 EDUCATION DEFINED. 53 
 
 with barl)arism is simply the result of that action of 
 inincl on mind which carries forward the teaching of 
 Nntnre — in other words, of what we call education. 
 Where there is no specific conscious education, thei-e is 
 no civilization. Where education is fully appreciated, 
 the result is high civilization; and generally, as educa- 
 tion advances, civilization advances in proportion, and 
 thus affords a measure of its influence. It follows, then, 
 that all the civilization that exists is ultimately due to 
 the educator, including, of course, the educator in 
 religion. 
 
 Education, then, as we may now more specifically 
 define it, is the training carried on consciously and con- 
 tinuously by the educator, and its object i» to convert 
 desultory and accidental force into organized action; 
 and its ultimate aim is to make the child operated on by 
 it capable of becoming a healthy, intelligent, moral, and 
 religious man; or it may be described as the systema- 
 tization of all the influences which the Science of Edu- 
 cation recognizes as capable of being employed by one 
 human being to develop, direct, and maintain vital force 
 in another, with a view to the formation of habits. 
 
 This conception of the end of education defines the 
 function of the educator. He has to direct forces 
 already existing to a definite object, and in proportion 
 as his direction is wise and judicious will the object be 
 secured. 
 
 He has in the child before him an embodiment of 
 animal, intellectual, and nioi-al forces, the action of 
 which is irregular and fortuitous. These forces he has 
 to develop further, direct, and organize. The child has 
 an animal nature, affected by external influences, and en-
 
 54 THEORY OF EDUCATION. 
 
 (lowed with vital energies, wliicb may be used or abused 
 to his weal or woe. He has also an intellectual nature, 
 capable of indefinite development, which may be 
 employed in the acquisition of knowledge, and gain 
 strength by the very act of acquisition; but which may, 
 on the other hand, through neglect, waste its powers, or 
 by perversion abuse them. He has, moreover, a moral 
 nature capable by cultivation of becoming a means of 
 usefulness and happiness to himself and others, or of 
 becoming by its corruption the fruitful source of misery 
 to himself and the community. 
 
 It is the business of the educator, by his action and 
 influence on these forces, to secure their beneficial and 
 avert their injurious manifestation — to convert this un- 
 disciplined energy into a fund of organized self-acting 
 power. 
 
 In order to do this efficiently, he ought to understand 
 the nature of the phenomena that he has to deal with; 
 and his own training as a teacher ought especially to 
 have this object in view. Without this knowledge, 
 much that he does may be really injurious, and much 
 more of no value. 
 
 To speak technically, then, a knowledge of what is 
 going on in his pupils' bodies, minds, and hearts, their 
 subjective process, will regulate the means which he 
 adopts to direct the action of those bodies, minds, and 
 hearts, which is his objective process — the one being a 
 counterpart of the other — and the consideration of what 
 this knowledge consists of, and how it may be best 
 applied, constitutes the Theory or Science of Education. 
 
 I am well aware that the mention of the words 
 ' • Theoiy of Education," and the assumption that the
 
 THE SCIENCE JUSTIFIED. 55 
 
 educator ought to be educated in it, is apt to excite 
 some degree of opposition in the minds of tliose who 
 chiim especially the title of " practical teachers," and 
 who therefore characteiize this theory as "a quackery." 
 Now a quack, the dictionary iills us, is "one who prac- 
 tises an art without any knowledge of its j>rinciples." 
 There seems, then, to he a curious infelicity of language 
 in calling a subject which embraces principles, which 
 especially insists on principles, a quackery. If educa- 
 tion thus viewed is a quackery, then the same must be 
 said of medicine, law, and theology; audit would follow 
 that the greatest proHcieiit in the principles of these 
 sciences must be the greatest quack — a remarkable 
 reductio ad absurdum. This position, then, will perhaps 
 hardly be maintained. 
 
 But there is a second line of defence. The practical 
 teachers say — and, doubtless, say sincerely — " We don't 
 want any Theory of Education; our aim is practical, we 
 want nothing but the practical." We agree with them 
 as to the value, the indispensable value, of the practical, 
 but not as to the assumed antagonism between theory 
 and practice. So far from being in any strict sense 
 opposed, they are identical. Theory is the general, 
 practice the particular, expression of the same facts. 
 The words of the theory interpret the practice; the 
 propositions of the science interpret the siient language 
 of the art. The one represents truth in posse, the other, 
 in esse ; the one, as Dr. Whewell well remarks, involves, 
 the other evolves, principles. So in Education, theory 
 and practice go hand-in-hand; and the practical man 
 who denounces theory is a theorist in fact.* He does 
 
 * " Tlieory aiul practice always act upou eacli other; one can see from 
 tlieir works what men's opiuioiis are; and from their opinions predict 
 what they will do."— Gyet/ie.
 
 56 THEORY OF EDUCATION. 
 
 not of course drive bliiully on, without caring whither 
 he is going; the concepiion, then, which he forms of his 
 end, is his theory. Nor does he act without considering 
 the means for securing his object. This consideration 
 of the means as suitable or unsuitable for his purpose, is 
 again his theory. In fact, the reasons which he would 
 give for his actual practice, to account for it or defend 
 it, constitute, whether he admits it or not, his theory of 
 action. All that we ask, is that this conception of the- 
 ory in relation to education should be extended and 
 reduced to princii^les. 
 
 Mr. Grove, the eminent Q.C., in an address given at 
 St. Mary's Hospital, forcibly expresses the same opin- 
 ion: — "If there be one species of cant," he says, "more 
 detestable than another, it is that which eulogizes what 
 is called the practical man as contradistinguished from 
 the scientific. If by practical man is meant one who, 
 having a mind well stored with scientific and general 
 information, has his knowledge chastened and his theo- 
 retic temerity subdued, by varied experience, nothing 
 can be better; but if, as is commonly meant by the 
 phrase, a practical man means one whose knowledge is 
 only derived from habit or traditional system, such a 
 man has no resource to meet unusual circumstances; 
 such a man has no plasticity; he kills a man according 
 to rule, and consoles himself, like Moliere's doctor, by 
 the reflection that a dead man is only a dead man, but 
 that a deviation from received practice is an injury to 
 the whole profession." 
 
 Practical teachers may, however, admit that they 
 have a theory, an empirical theory, of their own which 
 governs their practice, and yet deny that the general-
 
 PRACTICAL AND POSSIBLE. 6V 
 
 ization of this theory into principles would be of any 
 value to tliemselves or to tlie cause of education. They 
 may go further still, and deny both that there is or can 
 })e any Science of Education. Some do, indeed, deny 
 both those positions. It has already been admitted that 
 the Science of Education is as yet in a rudimentary con- 
 dition. There is at present no such code of indisputa- 
 ble laws to test and govern educational action as there 
 is in many other sciences. Its principles lie disjointed 
 and unorganized in the sciences of Physiology, Psychol- 
 ogy, Ethics, and Logic, and will only be gathered to- 
 gether and codified when we rise to a high conception 
 of its value and importance. Even now,- however, they 
 are acknowledged in the discussion of such questions as, 
 the best method of training the natural faculties of 
 children — the order of their development — the subjects 
 proper for the curriculum of instruction — book teaching 
 versus oral — the differentia of female education — school 
 discipline — moral training, and a multitude of others 
 which will one dny be decided by a reference, not to 
 traditional usage, but to the principles of the Science of 
 Education. The fact, then, that this science is not yet 
 objectively constructed is no argument against our 
 atten)pting to construct it, and we maintain that the 
 pertinacious adherence to the notion of the all-sufficiency 
 of routine, forms the greatest difficulty in the way of 
 securing the object. It is, however, mainly for the sake 
 of the teachers of the next generation that the import- 
 ance of a true conception of the value of principles in 
 education is insisted on. 
 
 It follows, then, that practical teachers who desire to 
 see practice improved — and surely there is need of im-
 
 58 THEORY OF EDUCATION. 
 
 provement — ought to admit that there is the same obli- 
 gation resting on the educator to study the principles 
 of his art as there is on the physician to study anatomy 
 and therapeutics, and on the civil engineer to study 
 mechanics. The art in each of these cases has a scien- 
 tific basis, and the practitioner who desires to be suc- 
 cessful in it — to be the master and not the slave of 
 routine — must studiously investigate its fundamental 
 principles. 
 
 But there is another argument against routine teach- 
 ing which ought not be omitted. It is founded on the 
 effect which such teaching produces on the pujjil. Those 
 teachers who are themselves the slaves of routine make 
 their pupils slaves also. Without intellectual freedom 
 themselves, they cannot emancipate their pupils. The 
 machine generates machines. They make their pupils 
 mechanically apt and dexterous in processes, and in this 
 way train them to practice; but, not appreciating princi- 
 ples themselves, they cannot train them to principles. 
 Yet this latter training, which essentially involves rea- 
 soning and thought, ought to be the continual and 
 persistent aim of the educator. He has very imperfectly 
 accomplished the end of his being if he dismisses his 
 pupils as merely mechanical artisans, knowing the hoWf 
 but ignorant of the Wty; expert in processes but unin- 
 formed in principles; instructed, but not truly educated. 
 It is the possession of principles which gives mental life, 
 courage and power: the courage which is not daunted 
 where routine fails, the power which not only firmly di- 
 rects the established machinery,but corrects its apparent 
 eccentricities, canrepaii- it when it is deranged, and adjust 
 its forces to new emergencies. Take the cage of a rou-
 
 ROUTINE TEACIIINO. 59 
 
 tine pupil to whom you propose an arithmetical problem. 
 His first enquiry is, not what are the conditions of the 
 question, and the principles involved in its solution, but 
 what rule he is to work it by.* This is the question of 
 a slave, who can do nothing without orders from his 
 master. Well, you give him the rule. The rule is, in 
 fact, a resume of priuciples which some scientific man has 
 deduced from concrete facts and which repi'esents and 
 embodies the net result of various processes of his mind 
 upon them. But what is it to our routine pupil? To 
 him it is merely an order given by a slave driver, and he 
 hears in it the words, — Do this; don't do that; don't ask 
 why; do exactly as I bid you. He reads his rule, his 
 order, does what he is bid, grinds away athis\vork, and 
 arrives at the end of it a slave as much as evei", and he 
 is a slave because his master has made him one. 
 
 Educators, indeed, Kke other men, come under two 
 large categories, which may be described in the preg- 
 nant words of the accomplished author of the " Auto- 
 crat at the Breakfast Table." " All economical and 
 practical wisdom," he says, " is an extension or variation 
 of the following arithmetical formula 2 + 2 = 4. Every 
 philosophical proposition, has the more general character 
 of the expression fl!+ 5 = c. We are merely operatives, 
 empirics, and egotists, until we begin to think in let- 
 ters instead of figures." 
 
 Now the mere routine teacher belongs to the former, 
 
 and the true educator to the latter class, and each will 
 
 stamp his own image on his pupils. 
 
 ♦ MM. Demogeot and Montucci. in their Report to the French Gov- 
 ernment on English Secondary Instruction fParis 1867) severely comment 
 on the mechanical spirit in which mathematics are generally taught in our 
 schools through our taking little account of the reason, and making pro- 
 cesses rather than principles the end of instruction (p. 120).
 
 60 THEORY OF EDUCATION. 
 
 All that has been said resolves itself, then, into 
 the proposition that a man engaged in a profession, as 
 distinguished from a mt're handicraft, ought not only to 
 know what he is doing, but why; the one constituting his 
 practice, the other his theory. He cannot give a reason 
 for the faith thatisin him, unless he examines the grounds 
 of that faith, — unless he examine;-' them per se, and traces 
 their connection with each other and with the whole 
 body of truth. The possession of this higher kind of 
 knowledge, the knowledge of principles and laws, is, 
 strictly speaking, his only warrant for the pretension 
 that he is a. professional man, and not a mere mechanic. 
 Society has not, indeed, hitherto demanded this profes- 
 sional equipment for the educator, nor has the educator 
 himself generally recognized the obligation, aptly stated 
 by Dr. Arnold, that, "in whatever it is our duty to act, 
 those matters also it is our duty to study," and hence 
 the present condition of education in England. Educa- 
 tion can never take its proper rank among the learned 
 professions, that proper rank being really the highest of 
 them all, until teachers see that there really are princi- 
 ples of Education, and that it is their duty to study 
 them. 
 
 But there is another mode of studying princii:)les be- 
 sides investigating them per se. They may be studied 
 in the practice of those who have mastered them. 
 
 It is clear that a man may have carefully investigated 
 the principles of an art, and yet fail in the application 
 of them. This generally arises from not having fully 
 corapi'ehended them. He has omitted to notice or ap- 
 preciate something which, if he knew it, would answer 
 his purpose; or from want of early training finds it difti-
 
 p:xpekiexce of others. 61 
 
 cult to deduce facts from principles, practice from theory. 
 In such a case there is an available resource. Others 
 have seen what he has failed to see, have firmly grasped 
 what he has not comprehended, have made the necessary 
 deductions, and embodied them in their own practice. 
 Let the learner, then, in the Science of Education, study 
 that practice, and trace it in the correspondence between 
 the principles which he but partially appreciates, and 
 their practical application in the methods of those who 
 have thought them out. In other words, let him study 
 the great masters of his art, and learn from them the 
 philosophy which teaches by examples. This study, so 
 far from being inconsistent with the Theory of Educa- 
 tion, is, indeed, a necessary part of it. We may all 
 learn something from the successful experience of others. 
 De Quincy (as quoted by Mr. Quick in his valuable " Es- 
 says on Educational Reformers*") has pointed out that 
 a man who takes up any pursuit, without knowing what 
 advances others have made in it, works at a great disad- 
 vantage. He d'^es not apply his stiength in the right 
 direction, he troubles himself about small matters and 
 neglects great, he falls into errors that have long since 
 been exploded. To this Mr. Quick pertinently adds, — 
 "1 venture to think, therefore, that practical men, in ed- 
 ucation, as in most other things, may derive benefit from 
 the knowledge oF what has been uh'eady said and done 
 by the leading men engaged in it both past and present." 
 Notwithstanding the obvious common sense of this ob- 
 servation, it is undeniably true that the great majority 
 of teachers are profoundly ignorant of the sayings and 
 doings of the authorities in education. Their own em- 
 *Publishecl by C. W. Bardeen, Syracuse, N. Y., price $1.50.
 
 62 THEORY OF EDUCATION. 
 
 pirical methods, their own self-devised principles of 
 infttrnction, generally form tbeir entire equipment for 
 their profession. I have myself questioned on this sub- 
 ject scores of middle-class teachers, and have not met 
 with so many as half-a-dozen who knew anything more 
 than the names, and often not these, of Quintilian, Asch- 
 am, Comenius, Locke, Pestalozzi, Jacotot, Arnold, and 
 Herbert Spencer. What should we say of a physician 
 who was entii'ely unacquainted with the researches of 
 Hippocrates, Galen, Harvey, Sydenham, the Hunters, 
 and Bright ? 
 
 In the foregoing remarks I have endeavored to show 
 that there is, and must be, a Theory of Education under- 
 lying the practice, however manifested, and to vindicate 
 the conception of it from the contempt sometimes 
 thoughtlessly thrown upon it by practical teachers. 
 
 But it is important now to attempt to ascertain what 
 resources, in the shape of principles, hints, and sugges- 
 tions, it furnishes to the educator in his three-fold capac- 
 ity of director of Physical, Mental, and Moral education. 
 
 The conception we have formed of the educator in re- 
 lation to his work requires him to be possessed of a 
 knowledge of the being whom he has to control and 
 guide. " Whatever questions," says Dr. Youmans, of 
 New York, " of the proper subjects to be taught, their 
 relative claims, or the true methods of teaching them, 
 may arise, there is a prior and fundamental enquiry into 
 the nature, capabilities, and requirements of the being 
 to be taught. A knowledge of the being to be trained, 
 as it is the basis of all intelligent culture, must be the 
 first necessity of the teacher" (p. 404).* 
 
 * "Xli« Culture tleinanclycl by ii Motleru Li.t*?,"
 
 f'HYSICAL EDUCATION 6'3 
 
 " Physical Education. 
 Viewed merely as an animal, this being is a depository 
 of vital forces, which may be excited or depressed, well- 
 directed or misdirected. These forces are resident 
 in a comj)licated structure of limbs, senses, breathing, 
 digesting, and blood-circulating apparatus, etc.; and 
 their healthy manifestation depends much (of course 
 not altogether) upon circumstances nnder the control of 
 the educator. If he understands the phenomena, he will 
 modify the circumstances for the benefit of the child; if 
 he does not understand them, the child will suffer from 
 his ignorance. The daily experience of the school-room 
 sufficiently illustrates this point. Place a large num- 
 ber of children in a small room with the windows shut 
 down, and detain them at their lessons for two or three 
 hours togethei'. Then take note of what you see. The 
 impure air, breathed and rebreathed over and over again, 
 has lost its vitality — has become poisonoias. It re-acts 
 on the blood, and this again on the brain. The teacher 
 as well as the children all suffer from the same cause. 
 He languidly delivers a lesson to pupils who more lan- 
 guidly receive it. They are no longer able to concen- 
 trate their attention. They answer his half-understood 
 questions carelessly and incorrectly. Not appreciating 
 the true state of the case, he treats them as wilfully in- 
 different, and ])unishes the offenders, as they feel, unjust- 
 ly. They retain this impression; the cordial relation 
 subsisting before is rudely disturbed, and his moral 
 influence over them is impaired. We have here a nat- 
 ural series of causes and consequences. The state of the 
 air, a physical cause, acts first on the bodies, then on 
 the minds, and lastly on the hearts of the pupils; the
 
 64 THEORY OF EDTTCATION. 
 
 last being, peiliaps, the most important consequence of 
 the three. Now in this case both teacher and pupils 
 suffer from neglect of those laws of health which a 
 knowledge of Physiology would have supplied. It is 
 unnecessary to dwell upon the obvious applications of 
 such knowledge to diet, sleep, cleanliness, clothing, etc. 
 
 Knowledge of this kind has been strangely overlooked 
 in the educator's own education, though so much of his 
 efficiency depends on his acting himself, and causing 
 others to act, on the full recognition of its value. Edu- 
 cation has too generally been regarded in its relations 
 to the mind, and the co-operatiou of the body in the 
 mind's action has been forgotten. Those who listened 
 to the masterly lecture, delivered a few years ago at 
 this College, by Dr. Youmans, on the " Scientiiic Study 
 of Human Nature," will remember his eloquent vindica- 
 tion of the claims of the body to that consideration 
 which educators too frequently deny it, and the conse- 
 quent importance to them of sound physiological knowl- 
 edge. With singular force of reasoning he showed 
 that the healthiness of the brain, as the organic seat of the 
 mind, is the essential basis of the teacher's operations; 
 that tlie efficiency of the brain depends in a great de- 
 gree on the healthy condition of the stomach, lungs, 
 heart and skin; and that this condition is very much af- 
 fected by the teacher's application to the laws of health 
 as foundetl on Physiology. His general remarks on 
 education, and especially on physical education, are too 
 valuable to be omitted: — 
 
 "The imminent question," he says (p. 406), "is, how 
 may the child and youth be developed healthfully and 
 vigorously, bodily, mentally, and morally? and science
 
 PHYSICAL EDUCATION. 65 
 
 alone can answer it by a statement of the laws upon 
 which that development depends. Ignorance of these 
 laws must inevitably involve mismanagement. That 
 there is a large amount of mental perversion and ab- 
 solute stupidity, as well as bodily disease, produced in 
 school, by measures which o))erate to the prejudice of 
 the growing brain, is not to be doubted; that dullness, 
 indocility, and viciousness, are frequently aggravated by 
 teachers, incapable of discriminating between their men- 
 tal and bodily causes, is also undeniable; while that 
 teachers often miserably fail to improve their pupils, and 
 then report the result of their own incompetency as failures 
 of nature,— a]\ may have seen, although it is now proved 
 that the lowest imbeciles are not sunk beneath the pos- 
 sibility of elevation." 
 
 I give one short quotation from Dr. Andrew Combe, 
 to the same effect. "I cannot," he says, regard any 
 teacher, or pai-ent, as. fully and conscientiously qualified 
 for his duties,^ unless he has made himself acquainted 
 with the nature and general laws ol' the animal economy, 
 and with the direct relation in which these stand to the 
 principles of education." Dr. Brigham also advises 
 those who undertake to cultivate and discipline the mind, 
 to acquaint themselves with Human Anatomy and Phy- 
 siology. 
 
 All these authorities agree, then, that educators have 
 a better chance of improving the physical condition of 
 their pupils if they are themselves acquainted with the 
 laws of health; and they insist, moreover, that the health 
 of the body is not only desirable for its own sake, but 
 because, from the interdependence of mind and body, the 
 mens sana depends so much on the corpus sanum. This
 
 66 I'HEORY OF EDUCATION. 
 
 truth is strikingly, though paradoxically, expressed by 
 Rousseau, when he says, "The weaker the body is, the 
 more it commands; the stronger it is, Lhe better it 
 obeys;" and when he also says, "make your pupil 
 robust and healthy, in order to make him reasonable and 
 wise." 
 
 In short, hundreds of writers have written on this sub- 
 ject for the benefit of educators, thousands of whom 
 have never even heard of, much less read, their writings; 
 or, if they have, pursue the even tenor of their way, do- 
 ing just as they did before, and ignorantly laughing at 
 Hygiene and all the aid she offers them. 
 
 Physical education also comprehends the ti'aining of 
 special faculties and functions, with a view to improve 
 their conditiou. The trainer of horses, dogs, singing 
 birds, boxers, boat crews, and cricketers, all make a 
 study, more or less profound, of the material they have 
 to deal with — all except the educator, the trainer of 
 trainers, who generally leaves things to take their chance, 
 or assumes that the object will be sufficiently gained by 
 the exercises of tlie playground and the gymnastic ap- 
 paratus. It would be easy to show tliat this self-educa- 
 tion, although most valuable, is insufficient, and ought 
 to be supplemented by the appliances of Piiysiological 
 Science. This science would suggest, in some cases, 
 remedies for natural defects; in others, suitable train- 
 ing for natural weakness; in others, still graver reasons 
 for checking the injurious tendency, so common among 
 children, to over exertion; and in all these cases would 
 be directly ancillary to the professed object of the edu- 
 cator as a trainer of intellectual and moral forces. 
 
 The effect, too, of the condition of the mind on that
 
 INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION. 67 
 
 of the body — tlie converse reciprocal action — is an 
 im|)ortant part of this subject; but there is no time 
 to enter on it. 
 
 Intellectual Education. 
 
 But lot US next consider the relation of the educator 
 to the mtelleclual echicatmi of his pupils. However will- 
 ing he may be to repudiate his responsibility for the 
 trainingof their bodies, he cannot deny the responsibility 
 for the training of their minds. But here Dr. Youman's 
 words, already quoted, apply with especial force — " A 
 knowledge of the being to be trained, as it is the basis 
 of intelligent culture, must be the first necessity of the 
 teacher," and few perhaps will venture to argue against 
 those that follow: "Education," he says " is an art, like 
 locomotion, raining, and bleaching, which may be pur- 
 sued empii-ically, or rationall}'^ — as a blind habit, or under 
 intelligent guidance: and the relations of science to it are 
 precisely the same as to. all the other arts — to ascertain 
 their couditions, and give law to their processes. What 
 it has done for navigation, telegraphy, and war, it will 
 also do for culture." 
 
 The educator of the mind ought, then, to be acquainted 
 with its phenomena and its natural operations ; he ought 
 to know whit the mind does when it perceives, remem- 
 bers, judges, etc., as well as the general laws which gov- 
 ern these processes. He sees these processes in action 
 continually in his pupils, and has thus abundant oppor- 
 tunities for studying them objectively. He is conscious 
 of them, too, in his own intellectual life, and there may 
 study them subjectively ; but the investigation, thus 
 limited, is confessedly difficult, and will be much facil- 
 itated by his making an independent study of them as
 
 68 THEORY OF EDUCATION. 
 
 embodied in the science of Psychology or Mental Phil- 
 osophy. This science deals with everything which 
 belongs to the art which he is daily practising, will 
 expl.'iin to him some matters which he has found diffi- 
 cult, will open his eyes to others which he has failed to 
 see, will suggest to him the importance of truths which 
 he has hitherto deemed valueless ; and, in short, the 
 mastery of it will endow him with a power of which he 
 will constantly feel the influence in his practice. His 
 pupils are continually engaged in observing outward 
 objects, ■ascertaining their nature by analysis, comparing 
 them together, classifying them, gaining mental concep- 
 tions of them, recalling these conceptions by memory, 
 judging of their relations to each other, reasoning on 
 these relations, imagining conceptions, inventing new 
 combinations of them, generalizing by induction from 
 particulars, verifying these generalizations by deduction 
 to particulars, tracing effects to causes and causes to 
 effects. Now, every one of these acts forms a part of 
 the daily mental life of the pupils whom the educator is 
 to train. Will not the educator, who understands them 
 as a part of his science, be more c<)mpetent to direct them 
 to profitable action than one who merely recognizes 
 them as a part of his empirical routine ? Suppose that 
 the object is to cultivate the power of observation. Now 
 the power of observation may vary inaccuracy fi-om the 
 careless glance which leaves scarcely any impression 
 behind it, to the close penetrating scrutiny of the expe- 
 rienced observer, which leaves nothing unseen. Mr. 
 J. S. Mill (Logic i. 408) has pointed out the difference 
 between observers. " One man," he says, " from inat- 
 tention, or attending only in the wrong place, overlooks
 
 INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION. 69 
 
 half of what he sees ; another sets down mucli more than 
 he sees, eonfounilino; it with what he imagines, or with 
 what he infers; iuiother takes note of the kind of all the 
 circumstances, but, being inexpert in estimating their 
 degree, leaves the quantity of each vague and uncertain ; 
 another sees indeed the whole, but makes such awkward 
 division of it into parts, throwing things into one mass 
 which ought to be separated, and separating others 
 which might more conveniently be considered as one, 
 that the result is much the same, sometimes even worse, 
 than if no analysis had been attempted at all. To point 
 out," he proceeds, " what qualities of mind, or modes of 
 mental culture, fit a man for being a good observer, is a 
 question which belongs to the theory of education. There 
 are rules of self-culture which render us capable of 
 observing, as there are arts for strengthening the limbs." 
 But to return to our educator, who, having been edu- 
 cated himself in Mental Science, desires to make his 
 pupils good observers. He recognizes the fact that, to 
 make them observe accurately, he must first cultivate 
 the senses concerned in observing ; he must train the 
 natural eye to see, that is, to perceive accurately — by 
 no means an instinctive faculty ; for this he must culti- 
 vate the power of attention ; he must lead them to per- 
 ceive the ])arts in the whole, the whole in the parts, of 
 the object observed, calling on the analytical faculty for 
 the first operation, the synthetical for the second ; he 
 must invite comparison with other like and unlike 
 objects, for the detection of differonce in the one case, 
 and of similarity in the other, and so on. Is it probable 
 that the teacher entirely ignorant of the science of 
 Psychology, and the educator furnished with its re-
 
 YO THEOKY OF EDUCATION. 
 
 sources, will make their respective pupils equally accur- 
 ate observers ? 
 
 It would not be difficult to show that a knowledge of 
 Logic, as "■ the science of reasoning " or of the formal 
 laws of thought should also be a part of the equipment 
 of the accomplished educator. The power of reasoning 
 is a natural endowment of his pupils ; but the pow'er of 
 correct reasoning, like that of observing, requires train- 
 ing and cultivation. But we cannot dwell on this point. 
 
 In further illustration of the main argument, I beg to 
 refer to ray hearers to the very ingenious lecture lately 
 delivered at this College by my friend Mr. Lake, on 
 " The Application of Mental Science to Teaching," and 
 especially to teaching Writing, wherein he show^s that 
 even that mechanical art maybe made a means of real 
 mental training to the pupil. He proves that Muscular 
 Sensibility, Sensation, Thought, Will, as well as the 
 nascent sense of Artistic Taste, are all involved in the 
 subjective process of the pupil ; that in accordance with 
 this, the educated educator frames the objective process, 
 through which he develops thepuj)il's mind, and to some 
 extent his moral character, and thus makes him a practi- 
 cal proficient in his art. Mr. Lake's lecture is probably 
 the first attempt ever made to show the dii'ect practical 
 bearing of physiological and psychological knowledge 
 on the art of teaching, and deserves the thoughtful con- 
 sideration of all educators. This same Mental Science 
 is also applicable to the teaching of Heading and Arith- 
 metic. Indeed, I am persuaded — and I speak from some 
 experience — that these elementary arts may be so taught 
 as to become, not o'nly " instruction," but true " educa- 
 tion," to the child ; not merely, as they are generally
 
 MORAL EDUCATION. 71 
 
 regarded, "instruments of education," but education 
 itself. Observation, memory, judgment, reasoning, in- 
 vention, and pleasurable associations with the art of 
 learning, may all be cultivated by a judicious applica- 
 tion of the principles of Mental Science. Mulhauser, 
 and INfaiily (of the City of London School), have proved 
 this for Writing, Jacotot for Reading, and Pestalozzi 
 for Arithmetic. When this truth is acknowledged, it 
 will be felt more generally than it is now, that the most 
 pretentious schemes and curricula of education are, after 
 all, comparatively valueless if they do not secure for the 
 pu))i] the power of doing common things well. This, how- 
 ever, is a theme which would I'equire a lecture by itself 
 for its adequate treatment. 
 
 Moral Education. 
 
 But the child whom we have considered as the object 
 of the educatoi's operations has moral as well as physi- 
 cal and intellectual faculties ; and the development of 
 these, with the view of forming character, is a transcen- 
 dently important part of the educator's work. This 
 child has feelings, desires, a will and a conscience, which 
 are to be developed and guided. Here, too, as in the 
 other cases. Nature has given elementary teaching, and 
 elicited desultory and instinctive action ; but her lessons 
 are insufficient, and require to be supplemented by the 
 educator's. 
 
 The child, as already said, is a moral being, but his 
 moral principles are crude and inconsistent. Acted on 
 by the impulse of the moment, he follows out the prompt, 
 ings of his will, without any regard to personal or rela- 
 tive consequences ; and if the will i« naturally strong-
 
 V2 THEORY OF EDUCATION. 
 
 even the experience of injurious consequences does not, 
 of itself, restrain him. Self-love induces hira to regard 
 everything that he wishes to possess as i-ightfuUy his 
 own. He says by his actions, " Creation's heir, the world 
 — the world is mine." lie is therefore indifferent to the 
 rights of others, and resents all oposition to his self-seek- 
 ing. He is also indifferent to the feelings of others, and 
 often tyrannizes over those who are weaker than Iiim- 
 self. His unbounded curiosity impels him incessantly to 
 gain knowledge. Hs examines evei'vthiug that interests 
 him ; acquires both ideas and expressions by listening to 
 conversations ; breaks his toys to see how they are 
 made; disj)lays also his constructive ability by cutting 
 out boats and paper figures. But he has sympathy as 
 well as curiosity. He makes friends, learns to love 
 them, to yield up his own inclinations to theirs ; imi- 
 tates their sayings and doings, good and bad ; adopts 
 their notions, becomes like them. He has also a con- 
 science, which, when awakened, decides, though in an 
 uncertain manner, on the moral quality of his actions ; 
 and lastly he has a will, which is swayed by this self- 
 love, curiosity, sympathy, and conscience. 
 
 This is a slight sketch of the moral forces which the 
 educator has to control and direct. Now every teacher 
 is conscious that he can, and does every day, by his per- 
 sonal character, by the economic arrangements of the 
 school, by his general discipline, by special treatment of 
 individual cases, exercise a considerable influence over 
 these moral phenomena ; and must confess that the ex- 
 tent of this influence is generally measured by his own 
 knowledge of human nature, and that when he fails it is 
 because he forgets or is ignorant of some elementary
 
 MORAL EDUCATION. 73 
 
 principle of tluit nature. If he allows this, he must al- 
 low that a larger acquaintance with the principles on 
 which human beings ;ict, — the motives which influence 
 them, — the t)bjects at which they commonly aim, — the 
 passions, desires, characters, manners which appear in 
 the world around him and his own constitution, — would 
 proportionately increase his influence. 
 
 But these are the very matters illustrated by the Sci- 
 ence of Morals, or Moral Philosophy, and the educator 
 will be greatly aided in his work by knowing its leading 
 principles. 
 
 For what is the object of moral training? Is it not 
 to give a wise direction to the moral powers, — to en- 
 courage virtuous inclinations, sentimeirts and passions, 
 and to repress those that are evil, — to cultivate habits of 
 truthfulness, obedience, industry, temperance, prudence, 
 and respect for the rights of others, with a view to the 
 formation of character ? 
 
 This enumeration of the objects of moral training 
 presents a wide field of action for the educator ; yet a 
 single day's experience in any large school will probably 
 supply the occasion for his dealing with every one of 
 them. How important it is, then, that he should be well 
 furnished with resources. 
 
 Every earnest educator, moreover, will confess that 
 he has much to learn, especially in morals, from his pu- 
 pils. To be successful, he must study his own charac- 
 ter in theirs, as well as theirs in his own. Coleridge has 
 well put this in these lines : — 
 
 " O'er Wayward childhood would'st thou hold firm rule, 
 And sun thee in the light of happy faces ? 
 Love, Hope, and Patience — these must be thy graces ; 
 And in thine own heart let them first keep school."
 
 74 THEORY OF EDUCATION. 
 
 A little story from Chaucer illustrates the same point. 
 I give it in his own words : — "A philosopher, upon a 
 tyme, that wolde have bete his disciple for his grete 
 trespas, for which he was greatly anioeved, and brought 
 a yerde to scourge the child ; and when the child saugh 
 the yerde, he sayde to his master, ' What thenke ye to 
 do ? 'I wolde bete the,' quod the master, ' for thi cor- 
 rectioun.' 'Forsothe,' quod the child, 'ye oughte first 
 correcte youresilf that han lost al youre pacience for the 
 gilt of a child.' 'Forsothe,' quod the raaister, al wepy- 
 ing, ' thou saist soth ; have thou the yerde, my deere 
 sone, and correcte me for rayn impatience.'" This mas- 
 ter was learning, we see, in the school of his own heart, 
 and his pupil was his teacher. 
 
 Time does not allow of our entering more in detail 
 into the question of moral training, and showing that 
 the great object of moral, like that of physical and in- 
 tellectual education, is to develop force, with a view to 
 the pupil's self-action. Unless this point is gained — and 
 it cannot be gained by preceptive teaching — little is 
 gained. Our pupil's character is not to be one merely 
 for holiday show, but for the daily duties of life — a 
 character which will not be the sport of every wind of 
 doctrine, but one in which virtue — moral strength, — is 
 firmly embodied. Such a character can only be formed 
 bymakmg the child himself a co-operator in the process 
 of formation. 
 
 If I have not specially referred to religious, as a part 
 of moral education, it is because no truly religious edu- 
 cator can fail to make it a part of his system of means. 
 As for the case of the teacher whose every-day life 
 shows that he is not influenced himself by the religion
 
 DEVELOPMENT OF SELF-ACTIVITY, 75 
 
 which he, as a matter of form, imposes upon liis pupils, 
 1 have great difficulty in conceiving of him as a teacher 
 of morals at all. 
 
 I liave now completed the general view I proposed to 
 take of the relation of the educator to his work; and the 
 gist of all that I have said is contained in the simple 
 proposition, that he ought to know his business, if he 
 wishes to accomplish his objects in the best way. The 
 deductions from this proposition are, — that, as his busi- 
 ness consists in training physi(!al, mental, and moral 
 forces, he ought to understand the nature of these 
 forces, both in their statical and dynamical condition, 
 at rest and in action, and should therefore study Phy- 
 siology, Psychology, Ethics, and Logic, which explain 
 and illustrate so many of the phenomena;* that he 
 should, moreover, study them, as embodied in the prac- 
 tice of the great masters of the art. Inspired thus with 
 a noble ideal of his work, he will gradually realize it in 
 his practice, and become an accomplished educator. He 
 will meet with many difficulties in this self-training, but 
 the advantages he gains will more than compensate him. 
 None can know better than himself — none so well — the 
 trials, disappointments, fainting of heart, and defeats 
 that his utmost skill cannot always turn into victories, 
 which he will have to encounter; but then, on the other 
 hand, few can know as he does those moments of won- 
 
 *The late Mr. Fletcher, Inspector of Schools, thus enforces the same 
 doctrine:— "Tlie intellectual faculties can never be exercised thoroughly 
 but by men of sound logical training, perfect in the art of teaching; 
 hence there exist so few highly-gifted teachers. In fact, there are none 
 but men of some genius who are said to have peculiar tact, which it is 
 impossible to imitate; but I am anxious to see every part of the fine art 
 of instruction redeemed from hopeless concealment under such a word, 
 and made the subject of rational study and improved training."
 
 76 THEORY OF EDUCATION. 
 
 derful liappiness which fall to his lot when he sees his 
 work going on well; when, in the improved health, the 
 increased intellectual and moral power of his pupils, he 
 recognizes the result of measures. which he has devised, 
 of principles which he lias learnt from the school with- 
 out, from the school within, and from the ripe experi- 
 ence and thought of the fellow-laborers of his craft. At 
 such moments, fraught with the spirit of the great ar- 
 tist, who exclaimed in his enthusiasm, " Ed io anche sono 
 pittore ;" he also exclaims, "And I too am an educa- 
 t(>r ! " This enthusiasm will be more common when edu- 
 cators entertain a more exalted conception of their pro- 
 fession. 
 
 That the educator cannot fully realize his conception, 
 is no argument against his keeping it constaiitly in view, 
 to stimulate his zeal and guide his practice. The educa- 
 tion of aims and achievements must, after all, be an in- 
 determinate one; but we approach nearer and nearer to 
 its solution, by a high assumption for the aims. "We 
 strive," as Coleridge says, " to ascend, and we ascend in 
 our striving." Nothing has been said of the value of 
 Physiology, Psychology, etc., to the educator merely as 
 a man, not as a professional man. But it is easy to see 
 that it must be great. Nor have they been pointed out 
 as subjects of direct instruction for his pupils; yet surely 
 it is important that he should be able to give in his class- 
 es elementary lessons on all these subjects, particularly 
 on Physiology. The nomenclature, at least, and the ru- 
 diments of Psychology may be advantageously learned 
 by elder pupils, and the elements of Logic should cer- 
 tainly form a part of the instruction of students of Eu- 
 clid and grammatical analysis.
 
 THE TEACHER TRAINED. 77 
 
 But beyond the theoretical treatment of the Science of 
 Education, I have a practical object in view. I wish to 
 show that there is a strong presumption that the educa- 
 tor of our day needs education in his art. Individual 
 teachers may deny this for themselves — they genex'ally 
 do — but they freely admit it with regard to their ri- 
 vals in the next street, or the next town. Generalize 
 this admission, and all we ask for isgranted. But there 
 is a test of a different kind which disposes of the ques- 
 tion — the test of i-esults. "By their fruits ye shall 
 know them." If the fruit is good, the tree is good. If 
 the large majority of schools are in a satisfactory con- 
 dition, then the educator is doing his work well; for 
 " as is the master, so is the school " — which means, to 
 speak technically, that the results of a system of educa- 
 tion are not as the capabilities of the pupil, nor as the 
 external school machinery, but as the professional pre- 
 paredness of the educator. If, then, the large majority 
 of schools are unsatisfactory, it is because the teacher is 
 unsatisfactory. And that they are so, is proved by 
 every test that can be applied. All the Commissions on 
 Education — whether primary, secondary, or advanced — 
 tell the same tale, pronounce the same verdict of failure; 
 and that verdict would have been more decided had the 
 judges been themselves educators. Dealing with a sub- 
 ject which they know mostly as amateurs, not as ex- 
 perts, they are not competent to estimate the results by 
 a scientific standard; they therefore reckon as good 
 much that is really bad; for the value of a result in edu- 
 cation mainly depends on the manner in which it has 
 been gained. Yet even these estimators severally de- 
 clare that the educational machinery of this country is
 
 4 78 THEORY OP EDUCATION. 
 
 working immensely under the theoretical estimate of its 
 power. The " scandalously small " results of the Public 
 School education are parallelled or exceeded by those of 
 the Middle Class and Primary Schools; and in cases of 
 primary schools where this epithet would not apply, we 
 find that the superiority is due to the preliminary train- 
 ing of the teacher. 
 
 What, again, is to be said of the evidence furnished 
 by such a statement as the following, which we extract 
 from the Athenaeum of March 27, 1869: — " A petition was 
 last week presented to the House of Commons from the 
 Council of Medical Education, stating that the main- 
 tenance of a sufficient medical education is very difficult, 
 owing to the defective education given in middle class 
 schools. A similar complaint was made in a petition 
 from the British Medical Association, numbering 4,000 
 members. In a third petition, proceeding from the Uni- 
 versity of London, it was stated that during the last 10 
 years 40 per cent, ^it has since been more than 50 per 
 cent.] of the candidates at the Matriculation examina- 
 tions have failed to satisfy the examiners." 
 
 Once more, Sir John Lefevre, describing, in 1861, the 
 mental condition of the candidates for the Civil Service 
 who came before liim for examination, refers to '■ the 
 incredible failures in orthography, the miserable writ- 
 ing, the ignorance of arithmetic. " It is comparatively 
 rare," he says, " to find a candidate who can add cor- 
 rectly a moderately long column of figures." Some 
 improvement has taken place, no doubt, during the last 
 ten years under the influence of the examination of the 
 College of Preceptors, and those of Oxford and Cam- 
 bridge, but the main difiiculty remains much the same.
 
 INEFFICIENCY OF PRESENT TEACHING. 79 
 
 This, then, is the evidence, or rather a part of the evi- 
 dence which attests the unsatisfactory results of our 
 middle-class teaching. But we repeat, " as are the teach- 
 ers, so are the schools ;" and, therefore, without hesita- 
 tion make the teachers directly responsible for these 
 results. Had they been masters of their art, these results 
 would have been impossible; and they are not masters 
 of their art, because they have not studied its principles, 
 nor been scientifically trained in its practice. 
 
 The true remedy has been suggested by many eminent 
 men, not merely by teachers. It consists in teaching 
 •the teacher how to teach, in training the trainer, in edu- 
 cating the educator. 
 
 Thus, Dr. Gull, after complaining of the insufficient 
 education of youths who are to study medicine, said 
 (Evidence before Schools Enquiry Commission) that 
 " improvement must begin with the teachers. Anyone 
 is allowed to teach. There is no testing of the teachers. 
 I think he should be examined as to his power of teach- 
 ing and his knowledge." "The subjects (for his pre- 
 paration) should include the training of tlie senses, and 
 the intellect, and the teaching of the moral relations of 
 man to himself and his neighbor." Mr. Robson, in his 
 evidence before the same Commission, said, " We should 
 require certificates of teachers showing that knowledge 
 has been attained, and also some knowledge of Mental 
 Philosophy in connection with the art of teaching. Ev- 
 ery teacher has to act on the human mind, and unless he 
 knows the best methods of so acting, it is quite impossi- 
 ble he can exercise his powers to the best advantage." 
 The evidence of Messrs. Howson, Besant, Goldwin Smith, 
 Best, and others, was to the same effect.
 
 80 THEOKY OF EDUCATION. 
 
 The assistant Commissioners, Messrs. Bryce, Fearon, 
 and especially Mr, Fitch, make the same complaints of 
 the want of training for the teacher. Mr. Fitch — who 
 has every right to be heard on such a point, for he thor- 
 oughly knows the subject, practically as well as theoreti- 
 cally — says, in his report on Yorkshire Endowed and 
 Private Schools, " Nothing is more striking than the very 
 general disregard on the part of schoolmasters of the 
 Art and Science of Teaching. Few have any special 
 preparation in it. Professional training for middle-class 
 schoolmasters does not exist in this country. It is cer- 
 tain that many of them would gladly obtain it, if it were " 
 accessible. But at present it is not to be had." And 
 again, " It is a truth very imperfectly recognized by 
 teachers, that the education of a youth depends not only 
 on what he learns, but on how he learns it, and that 
 some power of the mind is being daily improved or 
 injured by the methods which are adopted in teaching 
 him." Mr. Fitch, in another place,* also remarks, " We 
 all know instances of men who understand a subject 
 thoroughly, and who are yet utterly incapable of teach- 
 ing it. We have all seen that waste of power and loss 
 of time continually result from the tentative, haphazard, 
 and unskilful devices to which teachers of this kind 
 resort. Yet we seem slow to admit the obvious infer- 
 ence from such experience. The art of teaching, like 
 other arts, must be systematically acquired. The pro- 
 fession of a schoolmaster is one for which no man is duly 
 qualified who has not studied it thoroughly, both in its 
 principles and in their practical application." 
 
 The Rev. Evan Daniel, principal of Battersea Normal 
 
 ♦ " The Professional Training of Teacliers."
 
 UXIVERSITY EDUCATION INSUFFICIENT. 81 
 
 School, aptly describes the two main classes of middle- 
 class teachers. 1st. University men, "not infrequently 
 of distinguished ability and .scholarship. Few of them, 
 however, have had the advantage of professional train- 
 ing. They enter on their work with but a slight knowl- 
 edge of child-lif*^; they have never studied the psycho- 
 logical principles on which education should be based; 
 they are almost utterly ignorant of the best modes of 
 teaching, of organizing, and of maintaining discipline." 
 These are the teachers, rather the would-be teachers, 
 who, as a distinguished Head Master told us some time 
 ago in the Times, are to be allowed to find out their art 
 by victimizing their pupils for two whole years before 
 they become worth anything to their profession. But 
 Mr. Daniel also refers to the other class of teachers, 
 who, besides wanting everything that the former class 
 want, also want their mental cultivation, and remain 
 " in a state of intellectual stagnation, discharging their 
 duties in a half-hearted perfunctory spirit, and finding 
 them twice as hard and disagreeable as they need be, 
 from the want of suitable preparation for them." 
 
 The arguments then from theory and those from facts 
 meet at this point, and demand with united force that 
 the educator shall be educated for his profession. But 
 how is this to be brought about ? What is doing in 
 furtherance of this most important object ? The answer 
 to the question must be brief, and shows rather tentative 
 efforts than accomplished facts. 
 
 1. The training of teachers for primary schools is 
 going on satisfactorily in the Normal Colleges of the 
 National and British and foreign School Societies, so that 
 what is asked for middle-class teachers is evidently pos- 
 
 D
 
 82 THEORY OF EDUCATION. 
 
 ible. They can be trained into Letter teachers than 
 they are. 
 
 2. This training of the middle-class teachers, which 
 some decry as quackery and others as useless, is actually 
 going on in France and Germany most satisfactorily. 
 In both countries, highly cultivated and efficient educa- 
 tors, with whom the majority of English teachers would 
 have no chance of competing, are the everyday product 
 of their respective systems of training. 
 
 3. Our Government, in the Educational Council Bill, 
 for the present withdrawn, provided " that all teachers 
 of endowed schools should be registered, as persons 
 whose qualifications for teaching have been ascertained 
 by examinations, or by proved efficiency in teaching on 
 evidence satisfactory to the Council;" and that teachers 
 of private schools might also be entered on the registry, 
 by showing similar qualifications. 
 
 4. The Scholastic Registration Association, having 
 for its object " the discouragement of unqualified per- 
 sons from assuming the office of schoolmaster or 
 teacher," has obtained a large share of public approval, 
 and numbers among its members many head-masters of 
 public schools and colleges, as Drs. Hornby, Kennedy, 
 Haig-Brown (President of the Association), Thring, 
 CoUis, Weymouth, Schmitz, Rigg, Donaldson, Jones, 
 Mitchinson, the Revs. E. A. Abbott and F. W. Farrar, 
 and many other distinguished friends of education. 
 
 5. The College of Preceptors, too, by the institution 
 of this Lectureship, by the re-constitution of its Exami- 
 nations for Teachers, and by its recent memorial to the 
 Government on Training Colleges, is showing itself fully 
 alive to the importance of the subject. Its new exarai-
 
 PRESENT MEANS FOR TRAINING, 83 
 
 nations have just taken ])lace, and candidates liave fof 
 the first time been examined on the principles of Physi- 
 ology, Psychology, Moral Philosophy and Logic, and 
 their application to the art of teaching, as well on their 
 own personal experience as educators. The results have 
 shown how deeply needed is this knowledge of princi- 
 ples; out of fifteen candidates only three have satisfied 
 examiners. We still hope, however, by placing a high 
 standard before the candidates, and requiring an earnest 
 study of the subjects of examination, to make our 
 diplomas certificates of real qualification, as far as writ, 
 ten and viva voce examinations can test it. 
 
 Yet the real desideratum, after all, is Training Col- 
 leges for middle-class teachers, Professorships of Educa- 
 tion at our leading Universities, and more, perhaps, than 
 all, a nobler conception of education itself among Eng. 
 lish teachers.
 
 THE THEORY OF EDUCATION-ANALYSIS. 
 
 I. Preliminary Considerations. 
 
 1. Theory vs. Practice 49 
 
 2. Education and Instruction defined 50-53 
 
 (a) Unconscious Education 61 
 
 (6) Conscious Education 53 
 
 3. Function of the Educator.. 53 
 
 {a) Knowledge of his pupils 53 
 
 {b) Means adopted to direct them 54 
 
 II. Justification oj the Science of Education 54 
 
 1. Objections considered: 
 
 (o) That it is quackery 55 
 
 ib) That it is not "practical" 55 
 
 (c) That it is not possible... 57 
 
 2. Every act has a scieutific basis 58 
 
 (a) Evils of routine teaching 58 
 
 a The pupil a slave 59 
 
 (5 The teacher an empiric 60 
 
 8. The "why " as well as the "what" .60 
 
 4. Experience of others made available 61 
 
 III. Help afforded by the Science of Education 62 
 
 1. Physical Education 63 
 
 (a) Need of physiological knowledge 63 
 
 a Ventilation 63 
 
 (6) A sound mind in a sound body 65 
 
 (c) Self-education not sufficient 67 
 
 2. Intellectual Education 67 
 
 {a) Need of Mental Philosophy 68 
 
 a Cultivation of observing powers 70 
 
 fi Instruction in Logic 70 
 
 y Writing, Reading, Arithmetic 71 
 
 84
 
 ANALYSIS. 85 
 
 3. Moral Education 72 
 
 {a) The child's natural impulses 72 
 
 a Self-love, /i Curiosity, y Sympathy, 6 Conscience, 
 
 £ Will 72 
 
 (b) Importance of Mental Philosophy -.73 
 
 a Objects of moral training 74 
 
 /J The teacher often the learner _ 74 
 
 (c) Object to develop self-action. 75 
 
 IV. The Teacher must Know his Business 76 
 
 1. The majority of schools unsatisfactory 76 
 
 2. Due to inefficiency of teachers _ -80 
 
 3. Corrected only by training of teachers -80 
 
 («) University education insufficient 81 
 
 {b) Present means for training in England . .82
 
 TEE PRACTICE OR ART OF EDUCATION.* 
 
 The Theory of Education, as explained in the former 
 Lecture, consists in an appreciation of the influences 
 which must be brought to bear intentionally, consciously, 
 and persistently on a child, with a view to instruct him 
 in knowledge, develop his faculties, and train them to 
 the formation of habits. It was shown that this view 
 of Education assumes that the educator must himself 
 study and comprehend the nature of these influences; 
 and that this theoretical study, aided by the lessons of 
 experience, both personal and that of others, constitutes 
 his own education. 
 
 Assuming, then, the education of the educator him- 
 self, which involves a due conception of the end in view, 
 we have now to consider some of the means by which 
 he has to realize it, and this constitutes the Practice or 
 Art of Education. 
 
 I have already disclaimed the idea of attempting to 
 construct a symmetrical science of education, and am 
 not bound therefore to deduce a symmetrical art from a 
 theoretical ideal. Nor is this necessary; for whatever 
 may be said of the Theory, there is no doubt that the 
 Art of Education exists, and that its fundamental prin- 
 ciples can be evolved from its practice. 
 
 The Art of Education, strictly considered, involves 
 
 ♦ Delivered at the House of the Society of Arts, on 14th July, 1871, 
 J. G. Fitch, Esq., iu the chair. 
 86
 
 LEARNING IS SELF-TEA.OHING. 87 
 
 all the means by which the educator brings his influence 
 to bear on his pupils, :ind embra(;es tliereiore organiza- 
 tion, discipline, school economics, tlie regulation of 
 studies, etc. Our limited space, however, forbids our 
 entering on these matters, and the " Art of Education " 
 will in this lecture be considered as only another term 
 for Teaching or Instruction 
 
 If we observe the process which we call instruction, 
 we see two parties conjointly engaged — the learner and 
 the teacher. The object of both is the same, but their 
 relations to the work to be done are different. Inas- 
 raudfh as the object can only be attained by the mental 
 action of the learner, by his observing, remembering, 
 etc., it is clear that what he does, not what the teacher 
 does, is the essential part of the process. This essential 
 part, the appropriation and assimilation of knowledge 
 by the mind, can be performed by no one but the 
 learner; for the teacher can no more think for his pupil, 
 than he can walk, sleep, or digest for him. It is then on the 
 exercise of the pupil's own mind that his acquisition of 
 knowledge entirely depends, and this subjective process, 
 performed entirely by himself, constitutes the })upil's 
 art of learning. If, however, every act by which ideas 
 from without become incorpoi-ated with the pupil's 
 mind is an act which can only be performed by the 
 pupil himself, it follows that he is in fact his own 
 teacher, and we arrive at the general proposition, that 
 learning is self -teaching . This psychological principle is of 
 cardinal importance in the art of education. We see at 
 once that it defines the function of the teacher, the 
 other party in the process of instruction. It appears, 
 from what has been just said, that the only indispensable
 
 88 PRA.CTICE OF EDUCATION. 
 
 part of the process — the mental act by which knowledge 
 is acquired — is the pupil's, not the teacher's; and, indeed, 
 that the teacher cannot, if he would, perform it for the 
 puj il. On the other hand, the experience of mankind 
 /"shows that the pupil, how^ever capable, would not gen- 
 erally undertake his part spontaneously, nor, if he did, 
 carry it to a successful issue. The indispensable part 
 of the process cannot, it is true, be done without the 
 mental exertion of the pupil, but it is equally true that 
 it will not be done without the action an<l influence of 
 the teacher. The teacher'' s part, then, in the process of instruc- 
 tion is that of a guide, director, or superintendent of the opera- 
 tions hy which the pupil teaches himself f^ 
 
 As this view of the correlation of learning and teach- 
 ing assumes the competency of the pupil to teach him- 
 self, it may of course be theoretically disputed. It is 
 important, then, to add that the child whom the teacher 
 takes in hand has already learned or taught himself a 
 great number of things. He has, in fact, learned the 
 use of his senses, the qualities of matter, and the ele- 
 ments of his mother-tongue, without the aid of any 
 professed teacher. The faculties, however, by the use 
 of which he has made these acquisitions, are the same 
 that he must employ in his further acquisitions, when 
 the action and influence of natural circumstances are 
 superseded by those of the professed teacher. 
 
 A slight review of the operation of these natural cir- 
 
 *" To teach boys how to instruct themselves— that, after all, is the 
 great end of school-work."— Majuchy. 
 
 "The object of all education is to teach people to tiiink for them- 
 selves."— "C/nwersiVy Extension," an Address delivered at the request of 
 the Leeds Ladies' Education Associiition, by James Stuart, Fellow and 
 Assistant Tutor of Trinity College, Cunibridge.
 
 HOW NATURK I'EACHES. 89 
 
 cumstances — wbicli we nmy for convenience' sake call 
 Nature — vvill serve to suggest some of the means by 
 which the teacher, as a superintendent of the pupil's 
 process of self-instruction, is to exercise his proper ac- 
 tion and ini3uence. 
 
 How, then, does nature teach ? She furnishes knowl- 
 edge by object-lessons, and she trains the active powers 
 by making them act. She has given capability of ac- 
 tion, and she develops this capability by presenting oc- 
 casions for its exercise. She makes her pupil learrn to 
 do by doing, to live by living. She gives him no gram- 
 mar of seeing, hearing, etc.; she gives him no compen- 
 diums of abstract principles. She would stop his pro- 
 gress at the very threshold, if she did. Action! action! 
 is her maxim of training; and things! things! are the 
 objects of of her lessons. She adopts much repetition in 
 her teaching, in order that the difficulty may become 
 easy, "use becomes a second nature." Tn physical train- 
 ing, " use legs and have legs," is one of her maxims, and 
 she acts analogously, in regard to mental and moral 
 training. She teaches quietly. She does not continu- 
 ally interrupt her pupil, even when he blunders, by out- 
 cries and objurgations. She bides her time, and by 
 prompting him to continued action, and inducing him 
 to think about what he is doing, and correct his 
 errors himself, makes his very blunders fruitful in 
 instruction. She does not anxiously intervene to pre- 
 vent the consequences of his actions; she allows him co 
 experience them, that he may learn prudence; some- 
 times even letting him burn his lingers, that he may 
 gain at once a significant lesson in physics, and also 
 learn the moral lesson involved in the ministry of pain.
 
 90 PRACTICE OF EDUCATlOlSr. 
 
 These are some of the features of Nature's Art of 
 Education, and they are all consistent with the assump- 
 tion that throughout her course of instruction the pupil 
 is teaching himself. 
 
 We infer, then, from these considerations, that the 
 child whose instruction is to be secured by the guidance 
 of the teacher has already shown his capacity to learn, 
 and to learn, moreover, without explanations. We remark, 
 further, that an accurate analysis of this process of self- 
 tuition, based on the combined observations and experi- 
 ments of teachers carefully noted and compared to- 
 gether, and generalized into principles of education, will, 
 no doubt, in time to come, furnish the true canons of 
 the art of teaching, or, in other words, that the pupil's 
 subjective process of learning, when thoroughly under- 
 stood, will suggest, with proper limitations, the teach- 
 er's counterpart objective process of teaching. 
 
 The principle I am contending for — that the child is 
 capable of teaching himself withoi;t explanations — is in- 
 deed very generally acknowledged in word by teachers, 
 who also very generally repudiate it in fact. They al- 
 low that it is not what they do for their pupil, but what 
 he does for himself, that gives him strength and inde- 
 pendent force : but the multitude of directions, pre- 
 cepts, warnings, exhortations, and explanations, with 
 which tbey bewilder and enfeeble him, neutralizes their 
 theoretical acknowledgment of the principle. Let such 
 teachers say what they will, they virtually deny the pu- 
 pil's native capacity; they act on the belief that he can- 
 not learn without explanations, and especially without 
 their explanations. 
 
 This question of the necessity of explanations is a vi
 
 HOW NATURE TEACHES. 91 
 
 tal point in our argument, and needs further discussion. 
 Explaining is " flattening," or " making level," " clearing 
 the ground" so as to produce an even surface; and, 
 when applied to teaching, as generally understood, 
 means removing obstructions out of the way, so as to 
 make the subject clear to the pupil, and generally to do 
 this by verbal discourse. 
 
 But (1), we notice that Nature, who makes her pupil 
 teach himself gives no explanations of this kind. She 
 does not explain the diiference between hard and soft 
 objects — she says, feel them; between this and that fact 
 — she says, place them side by side, and mark the differ- 
 ence yourself; and generally she says to her pupil, don't 
 ask me to tell you any thing that you can find out for 
 yourself. 
 
 (2) The question of explanations essentially involves 
 those of the order of studies and the method of teach- 
 ing. If the subject is unsuited to the pupil's stage of 
 instruction, or if, instead of presenting him with facts 
 which he can understand, we force upon him abstractions 
 which he cannot, we create the need for explanations; 
 and in this case it is not merely probable, but certain, 
 that most of them, however elaborate, will be thrown 
 away. We are, in fact, calling on the immature facul- 
 ties for an effort which is beyond the strength of the 
 ti-ained intellect; for the man has never lived who cnn 
 understand an abstract general proposition while utterly 
 ignorant of the facts on which it is ultimately founded. 
 But supposing that we admit the value of explanations 
 generally, and that the explanations given are admirably 
 clear in themselves, their value to the individual pupil 
 will depend, not on their absolute excellenqe, but on
 
 92 PRACTICE OF EDUCATION. 
 
 their relation to the condition of his mind. Unless, 
 then, the teacher has well studied that mind, so as to 
 know its individual history, its actual condition, and its 
 needs, much of his explanation will " waste its sweet- 
 ness on the desert air." Tliat portion only will be re- 
 ceived and assimilated for which the previous instruc- 
 tion has prepared the mind, and all the rest will flow 
 away and leave no impression whatever behind it. And, 
 in general, it may be laid down as a practical principle 
 of teaching, that long elaborate explanations are entirely 
 out of place in a class of children. They do not gener- 
 ally quicken, but rather quell, attention. The children, 
 indeed, consider that, though it may be the teacher's 
 duty to preach, it is no necessary part of theirs to heed 
 the preaching. This work, as they generally take it, is 
 the proper occasion for their play; and this play, with- 
 out outward manifestation, may be going on uproarious- 
 ly in that inner playground where the teacher cannot 
 set his foot. Rousseau, in his interesting if somewhat 
 romantic " Emile," gives the following opinion on this 
 subject — I adopt Mr. Quick's translation: — " I do not at 
 all admire explanatory discourses; youn'4 people give 
 little attention to them, and never retain them. Things! 
 things! I can never enough repeat it, that we make 
 words of too much consequence. With our prating 
 modes of education, we make nothing but praters." 
 
 Now in these cases the teacher fails because he does 
 not follow Nature. The pupils for whom he "clears 
 the ground " would have cleared it themselves if he had 
 known how to direct them, and would have been the 
 stronger for the exercise. 
 
 Having thus indicated Nature's art of teaching, as, in
 
 FAULTS IX NATUKE's TEACHING. 93 
 
 a general way, the archetype of tlie educator's, it is im- 
 portant now to say that it is not to be implicitly followed. 
 
 (1.) Nature's teaching is desultory. She mingles lessons 
 in physics, hinguage, morality, all together. Her main 
 business seems to be the training of faculty, and slie 
 subordinates to this the orderly acquisition of knowledge 
 by her pupils. We are to imitate Natnre in training 
 faculty, but with n definite aim as regards subjects. 
 
 (2.) Nature^ teaching is often inaccurate; not, however, 
 from any defect in her method, but from inherite<l defects 
 in her pupils. If she has not originally given a sound 
 brain, she does not generally herself improve upon her 
 handiwork. The impressions received by a feeble brain 
 become blurred, imperfect conceptions, and Nature 
 often leaves them so. It is the educator's business, 
 however, to endeavor to impr )ve upon her labors, — to 
 ascertain the original fault, and by apt exercises to 
 amend it. 
 
 (3.) Nature's teaching often appears to be overdone. S!ie 
 gives ten thousand exercises to develop faculty, but she 
 continues to give them when that purpose is answered. 
 The educator is to imitate her in very frequently repeat, 
 inij his lessons, but to cease when the object is gainetl. 
 
 (4.) Nature does not secure the results of her lessons tvith a 
 direct aim to mental and moral improvement. She exercises 
 various powers to a certain extent and with certain ob- 
 jects; but she does not prompt to their improvement 
 beyond this point, nor exercise them equally upon ob- 
 jects uncoimected with animal wants and instincts. We 
 are to imitate Nature, in gaining such results for our 
 pupils as she gains, but we are to go beyond her in
 
 94 PRACTICE OF EDUCATION. 
 
 securing tliese results as a means to the attainment of a 
 higher platform of knowledge and power. 
 
 (5.) Nature accustoms her pupils to little, and that the sim- 
 plest, generalization. For any care that she takes, the 
 materials suitable for this process may remain unquick- 
 ened throughout the whole of a man's life. The educator 
 18 to imitate Nature in prompting his j^upils to general- 
 ize on facts, but to surpass her in carrying them forward 
 in practice. 
 
 (6.) Nature is relentless in her discipline. She takes no 
 account of extenuating circumstances. To disobey is to 
 die. She not only punishes the offender for his offence, 
 but often makes him suffer for the offences of others. 
 She involves him in all the consequences of his actions, 
 and often gives him no oi)portunity for repentance. The 
 educator, on the other hand, while allowing his pupil to 
 be visited by the consequences of his actions, is to pre- 
 vent ruinous consequences — to give him room for repent- 
 ance, to love the offender while punishing the offence, 
 and to allow for extenuating circumstances. 
 
 Nature's teaching, then, while in general the model of 
 the educator's, requires adaptation, extension, and cor- 
 rection, in order to make the best use of it. The old 
 adage, "Art improves Nature," applies undoubtedly to 
 the art of education: a truth which even Pestalozzi — 
 certainly himself a choice specimen of Nature's teach- 
 ing, a head boy in her school — failed, as we shall see, to 
 appreciate. 
 
 The upshot of what has been said hitherto is this, that 
 the natural process by which the mind acquires knowl- 
 edge and })0wer is a process of self-education, — that the 
 educator should recognize that process as a guide to his
 
 GOOD TEACHING ILLUSTRATED. 95 
 
 practice, suggesting both what be sbould aim at and 
 what be sbould avoid. To tbis it is very important to 
 add, tbat bis success in carrying out bis object will 
 greatly depend upon bis being furnisbed witb the re- 
 sources of bis science. A thousand unforeseen difficul- 
 ties, arising from the individual personal characteristics 
 of his pupils, will occur in the progress of his work, and 
 demand the exercise of his utmost skill and moral courage 
 for their treatment. It is here, quite as much as in the 
 normal action of the machinery that he is directing, that 
 the value of bis own education as an educator will be 
 found. It is the "unusual circumstances" referred to 
 by Mr, Grove, that call for that " plasticity " — that mul- 
 tiform power of applying principles, which distinguishes 
 the scientifically trained from the routine teacher. 
 
 I will now illustrate ray subject by presenting two 
 typical specimens of the Art of Teaching. In the first 
 the teacher fully recognizes the competency of his pupils 
 to learn or teach themselves without any explanations 
 whatever from him, and, accordingly he gives them 
 none; at the same time, however, he earnestly employs 
 himself in directing the forces under his command, and 
 sees in the self-instruction of his pupils, the result of his 
 action and influence. In the second instance the teacher 
 acts on the presumption tbat the pupil's success depends 
 rather on what is done for him than on what he does for 
 himself. 
 
 Suppose that the object be to give a lesson on a sim- 
 ple machine — say the pile-driving machine — in its least 
 elaborate form. I scarcely need say tliat it consists of 
 two strong uprights, well fastened into a solid, broad 
 block of wood, as a basis, and supplied with two thick
 
 96 PRACTICE OF EDUCATION. 
 
 ropes, one on each side, which are laid over pulleys at 
 the top of the nprifijhts, and employed to draw up a 
 heavy mass of iron, tlie fall of which on the head of the 
 pile drives it into the earth. Two or three men at each 
 rope supply the motive power. 
 
 Let a large working model of the machine be so placed 
 that all the pupils of the class may see and have access 
 to it. The teacher's object is to make this machine the 
 means of communicating knowledge and of drawing 
 forth their intellectual powers. He has no need to tell 
 them to look at it. The image of it, as a whole, is at 
 once impressed upon tluar minds. The teacher need not 
 tax his ingenuity to devise methods for gaining their 
 attention. Their attention is already on the full stretch. 
 Their curiosity is largely excited — their eyes wide open, 
 and "unsatisfied with seeing." — "What can it be? 
 What will it do?" He tells them the purpose of it, 
 and nothing more, — " It is a contrivance for driving 
 piles into the ground." They are eager to see it in 
 action. 
 
 It is now at rest, the weight resting on the head of 
 the pile. The teacher directs two of the children, one 
 on each side, to lay hold of the ropes and pull up the 
 weight, telling the class that the weight is called a mon- 
 key — a fact which they will certainly remember. [Names 
 and conventionalities which they cannot find out for 
 themselves, he must, of coun'^e, tell them; but telling of 
 this kind is not explanation ] Well, the monkey is drawn 
 up gradually, until the clutch relaxes its hold, and down 
 it falls, to their immense delight. This is the first 
 experiment. Let all the children try it — all pull up the 
 weight with their own hands, and gain an idea, by per-
 
 THE PUPILS EXPERIMENT, 97 
 
 soiKil, individual experience, of the resistance of the 
 weight. This experience involves muscular sensibility, 
 sensation, and a rudimentary notion of force. The chil- 
 dren by this time, have an idea of the machine, and 
 begin to conceive the relaticm between the end and the 
 means — between the pro])lem to be solved and the means 
 of solving it. The pile evidently gives way under the 
 repeated blows of the monkey. Let the monkey be 
 weighed, and another substituted heavier or lighter. 
 What is the result now ? Use the measuring scale to 
 see exactly how much the pile moves under the different 
 weights. Why are the results different ? [These me- 
 clianical acts of weighing and measuring exactly are not 
 to be despised; they are fraught with practical instruc- 
 tion], Next, let the height from which the weight falls 
 be gradually varied, until there is no height, and the 
 weight merely rests on the head of the pile, as at first. 
 What is gained by the motion of the weight ? Try the 
 experiment many times — ^weigh, measure, judge. When 
 is weight acting alone ? — when along with motion ? The 
 children form a conception for themselves of momentum; 
 and wh«n the thing is understood the technical name 
 may be given. Next, let the weight be detached and 
 placed on an inclined plane — a slanting board. Why 
 does it move now less easily than it did when it was 
 free ? Alter the inclination; try all possible varieties of 
 slope. When is the motion easiest ? The pupils gain 
 the idea oi friction, and may have the name given them. 
 Let the clutch be examined. How does it act? Why 
 hold the weight so firmly at one moment and let it go 
 the next ? Try the experiment, handle it, attach it to 
 the weight? Do<s it hold the weight firmly? Why
 
 98 PRACTICE OF EDUCATION. 
 
 does it let the weight go at the right moment ? Again, 
 suppose the weight were made of wood, lead, putty, 
 etc., instead of iron. Try these substances for the 
 weight. Why are they less suitable for the purpose 
 than iron ? 
 
 Attach weights to the ropes, and see whether they 
 may be so contrived as to supersede the manual labor. 
 What are the difficulties in doing this ? Can they be 
 overcome ? What is the use of the pulleys ? Remove 
 them, and pull at the ropes without them. What dif- 
 ference is there now in the ease of motion. 
 
 Could any one devise another machine for driving 
 piles, or any other contrivance for doing the work of 
 this better ? Let every one think of this before the next 
 lesson, and bring his model with him. The teacher suras 
 up the rcvsults of the lesson, and tells the pnpils to write 
 them down before hira. He examines their papers, and 
 makes them correct the blunders themselves. The les- 
 son is concluded. 
 
 Now in this lesson we have a typical specimen of the 
 self-teaching of the pupils under the superintendence of 
 the teacher. If teaching means, as stated in books on 
 the subject, the communication of knowledge by the 
 explanations of the teache]", he has taught them noth- 
 ing. Of that kind of teaching Avhich Mr. Wilson of 
 Rugby calls "the most stupid and most didactic" — 
 meaning that the most didactic is the most stupid — we 
 have here not a trace. The teacher has recognized his 
 true function as simply a director of the mental machin- 
 ery which is, in fact, to do all the work itself; for it is 
 not he, but his pupils, that have to learn, and to learn by 
 the exercise of their own minds. He has constituted
 
 THE TEACHER ONLY A DIRECTOR. 99 
 
 himself, therefore, as (if tlie expression may be pardoned) 
 a sort of outside will and mind, to act on and co-operate 
 with the wills and mindsof his pupils. He is the ;?rmM/rt 
 mobile which sets the machinery in motion, and maintains 
 and regulates the motion; but the work that it does, the 
 results that it gains, are not his work nor his results, but 
 the machinery's. In the case of the human machinery — 
 the children's minds, whicli are not dead matter, but 
 living organisms — he has had to supply motives to 
 action, sympathy and encouragement — to apply, indeed 
 all the resources of his science. But still he is simply 
 the superintendent or director of the operations which 
 constitute the learning or self-teaching of the pupils; 
 and the intrusion of those explanations, which some con- 
 sider the essence of teaching, would have hindered and 
 frustrated the efficiency of those operations. For, in 
 the case before us, why should he explain, and what has 
 he to explain ? The machine is its own interpreter. It 
 answers those who interrogate it in the emphatic and 
 eloquent language of facts — a language which the chil- 
 dren understand without explanations; and it practises 
 them abundantly in what Professor Huxley aptly calls 
 ihe " logic of experiment; " and if it says nothing about 
 abstractions and first principles, w^hich they could not 
 comprehend, it lays before them the proper groundwork 
 for these mental deductions, ready for the superstruct- 
 ure of science when the proper time comes. And until 
 this groundwork of facts is laid, the teacher may strain 
 his mind and break his heart in his anxiety to give 
 explanations. In fact, none that he can give will be 
 equal in value to those given silently, powerfidly, and 
 effectually by the machine itself. It is clear, then, that
 
 100 PRACTICE OF EDUCATION. 
 
 nothing would be gained by his explanations, and that 
 they are therefore unnecessary. 
 
 Without dwelling now on all the poinj^ of interest 
 contained in the lesson that I have described, which 
 will be suminai'ized hereafter, I invite attention espe- 
 cially to two or three. 
 
 (1.) We notice the pleasureable feeling of the children 
 thus actively engaged in the free exercise of their own 
 powers — seeing, handling, experimenting, discovering, 
 investigating, and inventing for themselves. This feel- 
 ing will, by the necessary laws of association, always 
 accompany the remembrance of the lesson. Is not this 
 in itself an immense gain both for teacher and pupils? 
 
 But (2) there is another very important gain for the 
 pupils educating themselves. It is an approved principle 
 of the science of education that it should be the aim of 
 the educator not merely to train faculty, but to induce 
 in his pupils the power of exercising it without his aid — 
 in other words, to make the ])upils independent of the 
 teacher. Noav, if as in the case before us, the children 
 have gained their knowledge by the exercise of their 
 own faculties — have observed, experimented, etc., for 
 themselves, they cannot but have gained a rudimentary 
 consciousness that they could, with(>ut the teacher, go 
 through the same process in acquiring the knowledge of 
 another machine. This consciousness of power, may, as 
 I have said, be, at the end of the first' lesson, merely 
 rudimentary; but it will gain strength as they proceed, 
 and the final result of such teaching will be that they 
 will acquire the valuable habit of independent mental 
 self-direction. An eminent Fiench teacher used to be 
 laughed at for saying that he was continually aiming to
 
 PUPILS BECOME DISCOVERERS. 101 
 
 make himself useless to his pupils. The silly laughers 
 thought that he had made a blunder, and meant to say 
 — useful. But they were the blunderers. 
 
 (3.) It is a noticeable point in the process described 
 that it led the children to discover, investigate, and 
 invent on their own account. They were continually 
 conscious of the pleasure of finding things out for them- 
 selves. They were continually making advances, how- 
 ever feeble, in the very path that the first discoverers of 
 knowledge of the same kind, and indeed of every kind, 
 had trod before them. Though only little children, 
 they were unconsciously adopting the method of the 
 scientific investigator, nnd becoming trained, though as 
 yet but very imperfectly, in his spirit. Should they sub- 
 sequently iiive themselves up to scientific inquiry, they 
 will not change their method, for it is even now essen- 
 tially that of scientific investigation. The value of this 
 plan of learning is aptly pointed out in a well-known 
 passage from Burke's essay on "The Sublime and Beau- 
 tiful." " I am convinced," he says, " that the method 
 of teaching [or learning] which approaches most nearly 
 to the method of investigation is incomparably the best; 
 since, not content with serving up a few barren and life- 
 less truths [such as abstractions, general propositions, 
 formulae, etc.], it leads to the stock on which they grew; 
 it tends to set the reader [or learner] himself on the 
 track of invention, and to direct him into those paths in 
 which the author [or scientific investigator] has made 
 his own discoveries." It is obvious that our children, 
 engaged in investigating and discovering for themselves, 
 were precisely in the position, with regard to their sub- 
 ject, which is described in these words.
 
 102 PRACTICE OF EDUCATION. 
 
 But their native inventive faculty was also exercised. 
 They would be sure, before the next lesson, to take the 
 hint given them by the teacher, and would be ready with 
 various contrivances for modifying the pile-driving 
 machine. When I say this I speak from experience, not 
 conjecture. 1 have myself, when engaged in readin_^ a 
 simple narrative with a class of children, and meeting 
 with a reference to some gate to be burst open by 
 mechanical means, or some bridge to be extemporized 
 in a difficult emergency, simply said, " try to invent a 
 contrivance for accomplishing these objects, and show 
 me to-7norrow your notions by a drawing and descrip- 
 tion," and have never failed to receive a number of rude 
 sketches of schemes more or less suited to the purpose, 
 but all showing the intense interest excited by the devo- 
 tion of their minds to the object. [ am persuaded that 
 teachers generally overlook half the powers latent in 
 the minds of their pupils; they do not credit children 
 with the possession of them, and therefore fail to call 
 them out. An instructive instance of a different mode 
 of proceeding is furnished by the experience of Profes- 
 sor Tyndall, when he was a teacher in Queenwood 
 School. The quotation is rather long, but it is too val- 
 uable to be omitted. " One of the duties," he says, in 
 his Lecture at the Royal Institution, On the Study of 
 Physics as a branch of Education, " was the instruction 
 of a class in mathematics, and I usually found that 
 Euclid, and the ancient geometry generally, when 
 addressed to the understanding, formed a very attract- 
 ive study for youth. But [mark the hut .'] it was my 
 habitual practice to withdi'aw the boys from the routine 
 of the book, and to appeal to their self-])0wer in the
 
 PROF. TYNDALL^S EXPERIMENT. 103 
 
 treatment of questions not comprehended in that routine. 
 At first the change from the beaten track usually excited 
 a little aversion; the youth felt like a child among 
 sti-angers; but in no single instance have I found this 
 aversion to continue. When utterly disheartened, I have 
 encouraged the boy by that anecdote of Newton, where he 
 attributes the difference between him and other men main- 
 ly to his own patience; or of Mirabeau, when he ordered 
 his servant, who had stated something to be impossible, 
 never to use that stupid word again. Thus cheered, he 
 has returned to his task with a smile, which perhaps had 
 something of doubt in it, but which nevertheless evinced 
 a resolution to try again. I have seen the boy's eye 
 brighten, and at length, with a pleasure of which the 
 ecstacy of Archimedes was but a simple expansion, 
 heard him exclaim, ' I have it, sir ! ' The consciousness 
 of self-power thus awakened was of immense value; and 
 animated by it, the progress of the class was truly aston- 
 ishing. It was often my custom to give the boys their 
 choice of pursuing their propositions in the book, or of 
 trying their strength at others not found there. Never 
 in a single instance have I known the book to be chosen. 
 I was ever ready to assist when I deemed help needful, 
 but my offers of assistance were habitually declined. 
 The boys had tasted the sweets of intellectual conquest, 
 and demanded victories of their own. I have seen their 
 diagrams scratched on the walls, cut into the beams of 
 the play-ground, and numberless other illustrations of 
 the living interest they took in the subject .... The 
 experiment was successful, and some of the most delight- 
 ful hours of my existence have been spent in marking 
 the vigorous and cheerful expansion of mental power
 
 104 PRACTICE OF EDtrCATION. 
 
 when ai)pealed to in the manner I have described." 
 Tliis is indeed a striking ilhistration of the true art of 
 teaching, as consisting in the mental and moral direc- 
 tion of the pupil's self-education; and the result every 
 one can see, was the acquisition of something far more 
 valuable than the knowledge of geometry. They gained, 
 as an acquisition for life, a knowledge of tiiemselves, a 
 conciousness of both mental and moral power, which all 
 the didactic teaching in the world could never have 
 given them. All teachers should learn, and practise, 
 the lesson conveyed by such an example of teaching as 
 this. 
 
 jNow taking the former instance as a typical specimen 
 of the art of teaching, let us consider what is involved 
 in it, and gather from it a confirmation of the views 
 already given of the relation of the educator to his 
 pupils, of the Science of P-^ducation to the Art. 
 
 We see (1) that the pupil, teaching himself under the 
 direction of the educator, begins with tangible and con- 
 crete facts which he can comprehend, not with abstract 
 principles which he cannot. He sees, handles, experi- 
 ments upon the machine; observes what it is, what it 
 does, draws his own conclusions; and thus healthfully 
 exercise his senses, his powers of observation, his judg- 
 jnent; and prepares himself for understanding, at the 
 proper time, general propositions founded on the knowl- 
 edge that he has acquired. 
 
 (2.) That, in teaching himself — in gaining his knowl- 
 edge — he employs a method, the analytical, which lies 
 in his own power, not the synthetical, which would re- 
 quire the teacher's exj^lanations; yet that he employs 
 also the synthetical, when called on to exercise his
 
 POINTS TO BE CONSIDERED. 105 
 
 combining- and constructive faculty. He employs the 
 analytical niotliot] in resolving the machine into its parts, 
 its actions into their several constituents and m^ans; 
 and the synthetical when he uses the knowledge thus 
 gained, for interpreting other parts and other actions of 
 the machine, and when he applies this knowledge to the 
 invention of other contrivances not actually contem- 
 plated by the machine-maker. 
 
 (3.) That, in being made a discoverer and explorer on 
 his own account, and not merely a passive recipient of 
 the results of other people's discoveries, he not only 
 gains mental power, but finds a pleasui'e in the discov- 
 eries made by himself, which he could not find in those 
 made by others. 
 
 (4.) That in teaching himself, instead of being taught 
 by the explanations of the teacher, he proceeds, and can 
 only proceed, in exact proportion to his strength, gain- 
 ing increased knowledge just at the time that he wants 
 it — at the very moment when the increment will natur- 
 ally become, to use a happy expression of Mr, Fitch, 
 "incorporated with the organic life of his mind." It is 
 needless to add, that he advances in this self-teaching, 
 from the known to the unknown, for the process he em- 
 ploys leaves no other course oj^en to him, 
 
 (5.) That, in teaching himself in this way, he learns 
 to reason both on the relation of facts and the relation 
 of ideas to each other: and that thus the " logic of 
 experiment" leuds him to the logic of thought. 
 
 (6.) That, in this process of self-teaching, he acquires 
 a fund of knowledge and of mental conceptions, which, 
 by the natural association of ideas, forms the ground- 
 work or nucleus to which other knowledge and other
 
 106 PRACTICE OF EDUCATION. 
 
 conceptions of the same kind will subsequently attach 
 themselves; the machine which he knows, becoming a 
 sort of alphabet of mechanics, by means of which he will 
 be able to read and understand, in some degree, other 
 machines. 
 
 (7.) That the knowledge, thus gained by the action 
 of his own mind, will be clear and accurate, as far as it 
 goes, because it has been gained by his own powers. 
 He may, indeed, have to modify his first notions, to 
 acknowledge to himself that his observations were im- 
 perfect, his conclusions hasty; but if not interfered with 
 by unseasonable meddling from without, his mind will 
 correct its own abberrations, and be much the stronger 
 for being required to do this itself. (You will remember 
 Professor Tyudall's experience in teaching geometry.) 
 
 (8.) That by teaching himself in this special case, he 
 is on the way to acquire the power of teaching himself 
 generally, to gain the habit of mental self direction, of 
 self power, the very end and consummation of the edu- 
 cator's art. 
 
 In order to illustrate my point still more clearly, by 
 force of contrast, I will give a sketch of another mode 
 of teaching, very commonly known in schools, taking 
 the same subject for the lesson as before. 
 
 The teacher, whose operations we are now to observe, 
 has a notion — a very common one — that as rules and 
 general principles are compendious expressions repre- 
 senting many facts, he can economize time and labor 
 by commencing with them. They are so pregnant and 
 comprehensive, he thinks, that if (your 2/ is a great 
 peace-maker) he can but get his pupils to digest them, 
 they will have gained much knowledge in a short time.
 
 BAD TEACHING ILLUSTRATED. 107 
 
 This remarkable educational fallacy T have already 
 referred to. Our teacher, however (not knowing the 
 science of education, which refutes it), assumes its 
 truth, takes up a book (a great mistake to begin with, to 
 teach science from a book !), and in order to be quite in 
 form (scientific form being the very opposite to this), 
 reads out from it a definition of a machine: "A machine 
 is an artificial work which serves to apply or regulate 
 moving power;" or another to the same effect: "A ma- 
 chine is an instrument formed by two or three of the 
 mechanical powers, in order to augment or regulate 
 force or motion." Now the men who wrote these defi- 
 nitions were scientific men, already acquainted with the 
 whole subject, and they summed up in these few words 
 the net result of their observation of a great number of 
 machines, so as logically to differentiate a machine from 
 everything else. Their definitions were intended for the 
 mature minds of students of science, and were therefore 
 framed in a scientific manner. This logical arrangement 
 is, however, the very opposite to that in which the sci- 
 ence was historically developed, and which is the only 
 one possible for the child who teaches himself. Our 
 teacher, uninformed in the science of education which 
 disposes of this and so many other questions belonging 
 to the art, implicitly follows the good old way, and 
 reads out, as I have said, the definition of a machine. 
 The pupils, who are quite disposed to learn whatever 
 really interests them, listen attentively, but not knowing 
 anything about " moving power " or " force " nor what 
 is meant by augmenting or regulating it, nor what 
 " mechanical powers " are, at once perceive that this is 
 a matter which does not concern them, and very sensibly
 
 108 PRACTICE OF EDUCATION. 
 
 turn their minds in another direction. The vivid curi- 
 osity and sympathy manifested in the other instance are 
 wanting here. These pupils have no curiosity about 
 the entirely unknown, and no sympathy with the teach- 
 er who presents them with the entirely unintelligible. 
 The teacher perceives this, and endeavors to " clear the 
 ground," evidently filled with stumbling-blocks and 
 brambles, by an explanation: — "A machine," he says, 
 (no machine being in sight) " is an artificial work, that 
 is, a work made by art." (Boy, really anxious to learn 
 something if he can, thinks, " What is art ? " He has 
 heard, perhaps, of the art of painting, but what has a 
 machine to do with painting?) The teacher proceeds: 
 "A machine you see [the children see nothing] is an 
 artificial work (that is, a work made by art), which 
 serves to apply, augment (that is add to) and regulate 
 (that is, direct) moving force or power; you know what 
 that is of course — [The teacher instinctively avoids ex- 
 plaining the mechanical force of a mere idea] — by com- 
 bining or putting together two or more of the mechani- 
 cal powers — that is, levers, pulleys, etc. — I need not 
 explain these common words, everybody knows what 
 they mean; — so now you see what a machine is. What 
 is a machine?" A. B. answers, "A machine is a mov- 
 ing power." C. D., "It is something which adds force." 
 "Adds force to what?" C. D. still, "to pulleys and 
 levers." "How stupid you all are !" groans out the 
 teacher, " there is no teaching you anything ! " At that 
 moment, E. F., a practical boy, gets a glimmering of 
 the truth, and says, "A steam engine is a machine.'' 
 This is an effort of the boy to dash through the entan- 
 glement of the words, and make his way up to the fact*.
 
 15AD TEACHING ILLUSTRATED. 109 
 
 The teaclier, however, at once throws him hack again 
 into the meshes, by saying, " Well then, apply the defi- 
 nition." Boy replies, " I don't understand the defini- 
 tion." " Not understand the definition ! Why, I have 
 explained every word of it ; " and so on. He reads the 
 definition again, questions his pupils again upon it with 
 the same result. He perceives that he has failed alto- 
 gether in his object. All his explanations, which have 
 been nothing more than explanations of words, not of 
 things, (a very common error in teaching) have failed to 
 " clear the ground," which remains as full of stumbling- 
 blocks and brambles as ever. A bright thought strikes 
 him. He introduces a picture of a machine — say of the 
 pile-driving machine — (not the machine itself), and a 
 considerable enlightenment of the darkness at once 
 takes place. There is now something visible, if not tan- 
 gible. Curiosity and sympathy are awakened, and some 
 of the ends of teaching are secured, and more would be 
 secured but that the teacher still confines himself to 
 reading from his book a description of the machine, 
 though he occasionally interpolates explanations of the 
 technical words that occur. But the picture is, after 
 all, a dead thing; all its parts are in repose or equilib- 
 rium; and the pupils, after giving their best attention 
 to it, see in it scarcely any illustration of the terms of the 
 definition through which they have labored so painfully. 
 The pictured machine represents " moving power " by 
 not moving at all, and " force " by doing nothing, while 
 it leaves the "mechanical powers" an entirely unsolved 
 mystery. They depart from the lesson with a number 
 of confused notions of " moving power," " augmenta- 
 tion of force," " mechanical powers," " pile-driving,"
 
 110 PRACTICE OF EDUCATION. 
 
 "monkeys," and " clutches," while the mental discipline 
 they have acquii-ed is an absolute nullity. Their minds 
 have indeed never once been brought into direct vital 
 contact with the matter they were to learn. The thing 
 itself, the machine, has been withheld from them; noth- 
 ing but a representation, possibly a mis-representation, 
 of it, has been seen, at a distance, in a state of dead 
 repose. Instead, therefore, of observing themselves its 
 action, they have been told what somebody else has ob- 
 served; instead of trying experiments upon it with their 
 own hands, they have been treated with a description of 
 somebody else's experiments; instead of being required 
 to form a judgment of their own on the relation of cause 
 and effect, as seen in the action and reaction of forces, 
 they have been made acquainted with the judgments of 
 others, and the general result of the whole lesson prob- 
 ably is, that while they have been, no doubt, deeply 
 impressed with the learning and science of their teacher 
 (and especially of his book), they have left the class still 
 more deeply impressed with the determination that, if 
 this is science, they will have as little as jjossible to do 
 with it.* 
 
 Now the teacher, in this case, may be credited with 
 earnestness, zeal, industry, knowledge of his subject 
 (though he had better have thrown away his book), 
 with all the knowledge in short that goes to the making 
 of a teacher, except (but the exception is rather import- 
 ant) a knowledge of the art of teaching. 
 
 The3e specimens of the art of teaching strikingly illus- 
 
 * " There is no use, educationally, in telling you simply the results to 
 which I have come. But the true method of education is to show you a 
 road, by pursuing which you cannot help arriving at these results for 
 yourselves."—" University Extension," ubi supra.
 
 SELF- ACTIVITY TO BK STIMULATED. Ill 
 
 trate the principles before insisted on. It has been 
 maintained that there is an inherent capacity in the 
 child who has taus^ht himself to speak and walk, to teach 
 himself other things, provided that they are things of 
 the same kind as he has learnt already. Now all chil- 
 dren, not being born idiots, are capable of taking part 
 in such a lesson as I have described — can employ their 
 senses upon the concrete matter of the machine, observe 
 its phenomena, make experiments themselves with it, 
 and gain more or less knowledge by this active employ- 
 ment of their minds upon it. And the same would be 
 true of lessons on other concrete matter — on flowers, 
 stones, animals, etc. In fact, these children have been 
 taught all their lives by contact with concrete matter in 
 some shape or other, and the teacher who understands 
 his science will see that there is no other possible path 
 to the abstract. It is obvious, then, that rudimentary 
 lessons on the properties of matter, in continuation of 
 those already received from natural circumstances, should 
 constitute the eai'liest instruction of a child; and our 
 typical lesson conclusively shows that such instruction is 
 attainable, and most valuable, not only for its own sake, 
 but with a view to mental development. 
 
 It is also shown that when the subject of instruction 
 is judiciously chosen, the pupil needs no verbal explana- 
 tions. The lesson in question is a specimen of teaching 
 in which, in accordance with the theory with which we 
 set out, aU the work on which the mental acquisition 
 depends is absolutely and solely done by the pupil, while the 
 teacher's action and influence, which originate and maintain 
 the pupil's work, u confined to guidance and superintendence. 
 
 Many arguments might be adduced to show that the
 
 112 PRACTICE OF EDUCATION. 
 
 principle, that the main business of the teacher is to get the 
 pupil to teach himself, lies at the basis of the entire Art of 
 Instruction. The teacher who, by whatever means, 
 secures this object, is an efficient artist; he who fails in 
 this point, fails altogether; and the various grades of 
 efficiency are defined by the degree of approximation to 
 this standard.* 
 
 The principle itself is recognized unconsciously in the 
 practice of all the best teachers. Such teachers, while 
 earnestly intent on the pi'ocess by which their pupils are 
 instructing themselves, generally say httle during the 
 lesson, and that little is usually confined to direction. 
 Arnold scarcely ever gave an explanation; and if he did, 
 it was given as a sort of reward for some special effort of 
 his pupils; and his son, Mr. Matthew Arnold, tells us tliat 
 such is the practice of the most eminent teachers of 
 Germany. 
 
 If further authority for the theoretical argument be 
 needed, it may be found in the words of Rousseau, who, 
 recommending " self-teaching " (his own word), says, — 
 
 ♦"Alltheoest cultivation ofachild's inind," says Dr. Temple, '"is 
 obtained by the cliild's own exertions, and tiie master's success may be 
 measured by tlie degree in which he can bring his scholars to make such 
 exertions absolutely without aid." 
 
 "Tliat divine and beautiful thing called teaching; that excellent 
 
 power whereby we are enabled to help i)eople to tiiink for tliemselves; 
 encouraging them to endeavors, by dexterously guiding those endeavors 
 to success; turning them from their error just when, and no sooner tlian 
 their error has thrown a himinousnesa upon that which caused it; care- 
 fully leading them into typical difficulties, of which the very patii we lead 
 them by shall itself suggest the solution; sometimes gently leading them; 
 sometimes leaving them to the resource of their own unaided endeavors, 
 till, little by little, we have conducted them through a process in wiiich it 
 would be almost impossible for them to tell how much is their own dis- 
 covery, how much is what they have been told."—" University Exten- 
 nion," tibi >mpra.
 
 ADVANTAGES OF SELF-ACTIVITY. 113 
 
 " Obliged to learn by himself, the pupil makes use of his 
 own reason, and not that of others. From the continual 
 exercise of the pujiil's own understanding will result a 
 vigor of mind, like that which we give the body by Inbor 
 and fatigue. Another advantage is, that we advance 
 only in proportion to our strength. The mind, like the 
 body, carries only that which it can carry. But when 
 the understanding appropriates things before depositing 
 them in the memory, whatever it afterwards draws from 
 thence is properly its own." Again: "Another advan- 
 tage, also resulting from this method, is, that we do not 
 accustom ourselves to a servile submission to the author- 
 ity of others; but, by exercising our reason, grow every 
 day more ingenious in the discovery of the relations of 
 things, in connecting our ideas, and in the contrivance 
 of machines; whereas, by adopting those which are put 
 into our hands, our invention grows dull and indifferent, 
 as the man who never dresses himself, but is served in 
 everything by his servants, and drawn about everywhere 
 by his horses, loses by degrees the activity and use of 
 his limbs." ("Essays on Educational Reformers," p. 
 135.)
 
 THE PRICTICE OF EOnCATION -ANALYSIS. 
 
 I. Practice of Education here limited to InMruction . .86 
 
 II. Learning is Self Teacliing. 
 
 1. Two parties conjointly engaged .87 
 
 2 . The teacher is only a guide . _ 88, 99 
 
 III. Nature' s Art of Education 89 
 
 1. She gives no explanations 90, 91 
 
 2. She puts facts before generalization ...89,92,104 
 
 IV. But Nature is not to be followed implicitly. 
 
 1. Her teaching is desultory 93 
 
 2. It is often inaccurate. ..93 
 
 3. It often appears overdone .93 
 
 4. It does not aim at improvement 93 
 
 5. It does not accustom to generalization .94 
 
 6. Its discipline is relentless 94 
 
 V. An Illustration of Good Teacliing 95. 
 
 1. The object placed before the class ... 96,104 
 
 2. The pupils experiment with it 96, 100' 
 
 {a) Notions of a force, /i machinery, y measure- 
 ment, 5 momentum, £ friction, etc 97 
 
 3. Their inventive talent is awakened 98 
 
 4. The machine is its own explanation 99 
 
 5. The pupils enjoy learning 100 
 
 G. The best teacher grows most useless 101 
 
 7. The pupils become discoverers 101, 105 
 
 (a) The faculty of invention stimulated 102 
 
 (6) Prof. Tyndall's experience 103 
 
 VI. Deductions from this Illustration, of Self- Teaching. 
 
 1. The pupil begins with facts 104 
 
 2. He uses both analysis and synthesis. 105 
 
 3. He enjoys the pleasure of discovery _ .105 
 
 4. He is started in self-teaching 105 
 
 114
 
 AKALYSiS. 116 
 
 5. He learns to generalize 106 
 
 6. His lesson becomes a clue to others... 106 
 
 7. His knowledge is accurate as far as it goes 106 
 
 8. He gains habits of mental self-direction 106 
 
 Vn. An Illustration of Bad Teaching. 
 
 1. The pupil ])egins with a generalization 107 
 
 (a) Fallacy that compact statement is most useful... 107 
 
 (b) Mistake of taking science from a boolc 107 
 
 (c) Misunderstanding of what is scientilic form 107 
 
 a Logic of statement vs. logic of development 107 
 
 (d) Language unintelligible to the pupils 108 
 
 (e) No curiosity, no sympathy 108 
 
 (/) The explanation of words, not things 109 
 
 3. A picture introduced instead of the object 109 
 
 (a) After all, only a dead thing 110 
 
 (b) Confused notions, and no mental discipline 110 
 
 (c) Result, distaste for science. 110 
 
 Vni. T/ie Business of the Teacher to get the Pupil to teach 
 
 Himself. 
 
 1. The child has inherent capacity Ill 
 
 {n) Rudimentary lessons on matter appropriate .111 
 
 (b) He needs no explanations .112 
 
 2. This principle is recognized by the best teachers 113 
 
 3. Advantages to the pupil 113
 
 EDUCATIOXAL METHODS. 
 
 There is a just distinction between a iv[ethocl and 
 an Art, and between these and a Science. A Method is 
 a special mode of administering an Art, and an Art is 
 a practical display of Science. In education, every 
 teacher must have some mo<le of exhibiting the notions 
 he has of his art, and this mode is his Method. He is 
 practising bis Art whenever he calls forth the active 
 powers of his pupils, let the subject on which he exer- 
 cises them be what it may. A simple machine, a flower, 
 a bit of chalk, or a portion of language, may be the means 
 for displaying his art. But if he contents himself with 
 leading his pispils in a desultory way, from one point of 
 knowledge to another, from one temporary mental excite- 
 ment to another, he risks their loss both of instruction 
 and education — the one consisting in the orderly acquisi- 
 tion of knowledge ; the other in the attainment, through 
 instruction, of good mental habits. The teacher, then, 
 must define his object by a special mode or method for 
 securing it. This method will be the exponent of his 
 notions of the Art of Education, and w'lil be good or 
 bad just as these notions ai-e sound or unsound ; and 
 this, again, will depend on bis knowledge of the Science 
 of Education — a science, as was before shown, ultimately 
 based on that of Human Nature. 
 
 The principki being once admitted, that the instruc- 
 tion aimed at can only be gained by the thinking of the 
 116
 
 THE CENTRIPETAL FORCE. 117 
 
 pupil, it follows that the direct object of the teacher is 
 to get the learner to think. The mode of procedure 
 which secures this object in the best way is the best 
 method of teaching. There may, therefore, be many good 
 methods ol teaching ; but no method is good which does 
 not recognize and appreciate the pupil's natural method 
 of learning. This principle, I repeat, serves as the test 
 of the method employed by the teacher ; and it is in 
 this sense that the pupil's subjective process of learning 
 suggests the objective counterpart method of teaching. 
 If the teacher succeeds in getting his pupils to do ail 
 tiie thinking by which the instruction is gained, the 
 method he employs must be a good one ; foi", to repeat 
 Dr. Temple's words already quoted, "the master's suc- 
 cess may be measured by the degree in which he can 
 bring his pupils to make such exertions [/. e., the exer- 
 tions of their own raindsj absolutely without aid." In 
 the system of agencies, then,, by which the work of in- 
 struction is to be acconiplished, the principle, that the 
 pupil's own mental effort alone secures the intended re- 
 sult, is the centripetal force which is ever tending to 
 harmonize the details of the process. Continually act- 
 ing in opposition to this are the centrifugal forces — 
 volatility, indolence, indifference, etc., which tend to 
 disturb its normal operation. The teacher who com- 
 mands both these forces, directing the centripetal and 
 controlling the centrifugal, is a master of educational 
 method, and preserves unity of action amidst the endless 
 diversities of his practice. 
 
 It follows from the foregoing observations, that as the 
 characteristics of a good method of teaching are sug- 
 gested and dictated by the characteristics of a good
 
 118 EDUCATIONAL METHODS. 
 
 method ol learnino-, it is important to know what is in- 
 volved in a good method of learning. In the last Lect- 
 ure, 1 endeavored to show, by an illustrative lesson, 
 what the pupil, under the direction of the teacher, does 
 when engaged in teaching himself A machine. The les- 
 son was, however, presented as typical, and may be ap- 
 plied, mutatis mutandis, to other subjects of instruction. 
 It showed that a child can learn the elements of physi- 
 cal science by the exercise of his own mind, " absolutely 
 without the aid " of the teacher, except that aid which 
 consists in maintaining the mental force by which the 
 pupil acquires his knowledge. The teacher throughout 
 recognized the native capacity of his pupils to learn, 
 and his method consisted in stimulating that capacity to 
 do its proper work. He gave no explanations, because 
 the machine being its own interpreter, none were needed. 
 He gave no definitions, because all definitions, given in 
 anticipation of the facts on which they are founded, 
 would have been unintelligible ; and he properly con- 
 sidered that the true basis of all science is a knowledge 
 of facts. He recognized, in short, throughout the en- 
 tire lesson, the principle which I have so often insisted 
 on, that his pupils were teaching themselves, and that 
 he was the director of the process. 
 
 In order to show what the method of the pupil was, 
 is is necessary briefly to recapitulate the main points of 
 tlie process. We notice, then — 
 
 1. That he began his self-teaching with tangible and 
 concrete matter, on which he could exercise his natural 
 senses. 
 
 2. That he employed analysis in gaining his knowl- 
 edge, and synthesis in displaying and applying it.
 
 ADVA>JTAGES OF SELF-ACTIVITY. 119 
 
 3. That he was an explorer, experimenter, nijd invent- 
 or on his own account — a true, however feeble, disciple 
 of the method of scientific investiij;ation. 
 
 4. That he proceeded in proportion to his strength, 
 and consequently from the known to the unknown. 
 
 5. That the ideas that he gained, being derived by 
 himself from facts present to his senses, were clear and 
 accurate as far as they went. 
 
 6. That by teaching himself — relying on his own 
 powers — in a special case, he Avas acquiring the power 
 of teaching himself generally ; and was therefore on 
 the way to gain the habit of independent mental self- 
 direction — the real goal of all the teachei-'s efforts. 
 
 7. That he dispensed with all explanations on the 
 part of the teacher, tliough he was told the conven- 
 tional and technical names for things v/hich he already 
 knew. 
 
 These are not all, but they are the main characteris- 
 tics of the pupil's method of learning elementary science, 
 and indeed of learning everything — language, geometry, 
 arithmetic, for instance — which admits of analysis of 
 decomposition into parts, or which ultimately rests on 
 concrete matter. In learning the imitative arts, the 
 process will be somewhat varied, but the principles re- 
 main essentially the same; for it is the same human 
 mind engaged in teaching itself under the direction of 
 the teacher. 
 
 All the main characteristics, then, of a good method 
 of teaching are involved in those of the pupil's natural 
 method of learning: that is to say, the teacher must 
 begin his instructions in science, language, etc., with 
 concrete matter — with facts; must exercise his puj)il's
 
 120 EDUCATIONAL METHODS. 
 
 native powers of observation, judgment and reasoning; 
 call on liiin to practise analysis and synthesis; make him 
 explore, investigate, and discover for himself; and so on. 
 
 Now it is obvious that, in order to maintain that ac- 
 tion and induence by which the pu))ii's method is to end 
 in complete and acci;rate knowledge, the teacher must 
 be well furnished with that knowledge of mental and 
 moral phenomena — of human nature, in short — which, 
 as 1 showed in the first Lecture, should constitute his 
 own equipment as an educator. He must know what 
 the mind does while thinking, in order to get his pupils 
 to think correctly. He must also know the normal ac- 
 tion of moral forces before he can effectually control 
 the moral forces of his pupils. In short, he must know 
 what education is, and what it can be expected to ac- 
 complish, before he can make it yield its best results. 
 Without this knowledge, much of his labor maybe mis- 
 applied, and even if not altogether wasted, will be much 
 less productive than it would otherwise have been. 
 
 In order to show that these notions respecting the 
 characteristics of a good method are not merely theo- 
 retical, I will now quote from an independent source — 
 Mr. Marcel's valuable treatise on teaching* — what he 
 considers to be the main features of such a method gen- 
 eral 1)'. 
 
 First, says Mr. Marcel, "^ good method favors self -teach- 
 ing;'''' and on this point he makes the following apt re- 
 marks: — 
 
 * "Language as a means of Mental Culture and International Com- 
 munication; a Manual of the Teacher and the Learner of Languages.'" 
 By C. Marcel, Knt. Leg. Hon; French Consul; 2 vols. 12ino; Chapman & 
 Hall, 1853— a work of conspicuous excellence on the whole art of teach- 
 ing, and well deserving to be rei)rinted.
 
 OLAUDE MAKCKL. 121 
 
 "One of the chief characteristics of a good method 
 consists in enabling learners to dispense with the assist- 
 ance of a toaclier when they are capable of self-govern- 
 ment. It should be so contrived as to excite and direct 
 their spontaneous efforts, and lead them to the convic- 
 tion that they have the power, if they have the will, to 
 acquire whatever mnn has acquired. The prevailing 
 notion that we must be taught everything [that is, by 
 " the most stupid and most didactic method"] is a great 
 evil. . . , The best informed teachers and the most 
 elaborate methods of instruction can impart nothing to 
 the passive and inert mind. If even a learner succeeded 
 in retaining and applying the facts enumerated to him, 
 the mental acquisition would then be vastly inferior to 
 that which the investigation of a single fact, the analy- 
 sis of a single combination [e. g., the fact of the pile- 
 driving machine, the combinations it afforded], by his 
 unaided reason, would achieve." 
 
 2. "^ c/ood method is in accordance with nature.'''' 
 
 He adds, — " The natural process by which the vernac- 
 ular idiom is acquired demonstrates what can be done 
 by self-instruction, and presents the best model for our 
 imitation in devising a method of learning languages." 
 [This is only another way of stating the main proposi- 
 tion, that the method of teaching is suggested by the 
 natural method of learning]. 
 
 3. '■^A good method comprises Analysis and Synthesis. ^^ 
 "Analysis, the method of Nature, jiresents a whole, 
 
 subdivides it into its parts, and from particulars infers a 
 general truth. By analysis we discover truths; by syn- 
 thesis we transmit them to others. . . . Analysis, con- 
 sistently with the generation of ideas and the process of
 
 122 EDtrOATtOXAL METHODS. 
 
 nature, makes the learner pass from the known to the 
 unknown; it leads him by inductive reasoning to the 
 object of study, and is both interesting and improving, 
 as it keeps the mind actively engaged. Synthesis [Mr. 
 Marcel here means the synthetic process of the teacher; 
 there is a little confusion in his statement], on the con- 
 trary, which imposes truths, and sets out with abstrac- 
 tions, presents little interest, and few means of mental 
 activity in the first stages of instruction. ... It is, 
 however, necessary for completing the work commenced 
 by analysis. In a rational m^^thod we should follow the 
 natural course of mental investigation; we should pro- 
 ceed from facts to principles, and then from principles 
 down to consequences. We should begin with analysis, 
 and conclude with synthesis. ... In the study of the 
 arts, decomposition and recomi)osition, classification and 
 generaliziition, are the groundwork of creation [i. e. of 
 invention]." 
 
 4. "^ ffood method is both practical and comparative." 
 Mr. Marcel, w^ho has in view especially the learning of 
 language, means that there should be both practice 
 founded on imitation, and coniparison, conducted by the 
 exorcise of the reasoning pow'ers. ''The former," he 
 say's, "exercises the powers of perce[>tion, imitation, and 
 analogy; the latter those of reflection, conception, com- 
 parison and reasoning, the first leads to the art, the sec- 
 ond to the science, of language. . . . The one teaches 
 how to use a language, the other how to use the higher 
 faculties of the mind. The combination of both w^ould 
 constitute the most efticient system." [It is needless to 
 say that our model lesson on teaching elementary science 
 presented both these chaiacteristicsj.
 
 CLAUDE MARCEL. 123 
 
 5. '■^A good method is an instrument of infeUecttial culture.'''' 
 
 This is little more than u repetition of tlie previons 
 statetnents. However, Mr. Marcel, in insistino; that a 
 good method should cultivate all the intellectual facul- 
 ties, further remarks, that " through such a method the 
 reasoning powers will be unfolded by comparing, gener- 
 alizing, and classifying the facts of language, by infer- 
 ring and applying the rules of grammar, as also by dis- 
 criininaling between different sentiments, different 
 styles, different writers and different languages; whilst 
 the active co-operation of attention and memory will be 
 involved in the action of all the other faculties." 
 
 Such are, according to Mr. Marcel, who only repre- 
 sents all the writers of any authority on the subject, the 
 main criteria of a good method of teaching. It is ob- 
 vious that, though he has chiefly in view the teaching of 
 languages, they strikingly coincide with the deductions 
 we gathered from observing the pupil's own method of 
 learning elementary science. The conclusion, then, ap- 
 pears inevitable, that the characteristics of a good 
 method must be the same, whatever the subject of in- 
 struction, and that its goodness must be tested by its 
 recoajnition or non-recocjnition of the natural laws of 
 the process by which the human mind acquires knowl- 
 edge for itself. 
 
 Having thus indicated the main criteria of a good 
 method of teaching, I shall employ the remainder of our 
 time in the exposition and criticism of the methods of a 
 few of the masters of the art. 
 
 I begin with Roger Ascham's method of teaching La- 
 tin, a method characterized by Mr. J.B. Mayor, (himself 
 a high authority on education), in his recently published
 
 124 EDUCATIONAL METHODS. 
 
 valuable editioi] of "The Scboolmaster," as " the only 
 sound method of acquiring a dead language." 
 
 Ascham gave his pupils a little dose of grammar to 
 begin with. He required them to learn by heart about 
 a page of matter containing a synopsis of the eight parts 
 of speech, and the tliree concords. This was the gram- 
 matical equipment for tlieir work. He then took an 
 easy epistle of Cicero. What he did with it may be best 
 learned from liis own words. " First," he said, " let the 
 master teach the childe, cherefullie and ))lainlie, the 
 cause and matter of the letter [that is, what it is about], 
 then let him construe it into Englishe, so oft, as the 
 childe may easilie carie awaie the understanding of it. 
 Lastlie, parse it over perfitlie. [The teacher, it is seen,- 
 supplies conventional knowledge — the English words 
 corresponding to the Latin — which the child could not 
 possibly find out for himself, and strictly applies the 
 modicum of grammar already learned,] This done thus, 
 let the childe, by and by, both construe and parse it 
 over againe; so that it may apjjeare, that the childe 
 douteth in nothing that his master taught him before. 
 [This is the reproductive part of the process, involving a 
 partial, mechanical, synthesis]. After this, the childe 
 must take a paper booke, and, silting in some place 
 where no man shall prompte him, by himself, let him 
 translate into Englishe his former lesson. [This is a 
 test of sound acquisition, and involves a more definite 
 synthesis]. Then showing it [his translation] to his 
 master, let the master take from his Latin booke, and 
 pausing an houre, at. the least, then let the childe trans- 
 late his owne Englishe into Latin againe, in an other 
 paper booke. [This is the critical test, the exact repro-
 
 ROGER ASOIIAM. 125 
 
 ductioii by memory, aided by judgment, of the knowl- 
 edge gained by obhervation and cojn])aiison]. When 
 the childe bringetli it turned into Latin [liis re-transla- 
 tion] the master must compare it with Tullies booke 
 [the T>atin text of the epistU^], and lai'^them both togith- 
 er; and where the childe dotli well, either in chosing or 
 true placing of Tullies words, let the master praise him 
 and saie, Mere ye do well. For I assure you there is no 
 such whetstoiie to sharpen a good witte and encoui-age 
 a will to learninge, as is praise." [This last {)art of the 
 process is especially valuable, involving the correction 
 of faults in the presence of the model, the pupil being 
 really taught, not by the arbitrary dictum of the master, 
 but by the superior authority of the master's master, the 
 author himself]. 
 
 Tn this way, supplj'ing additional grammatical knowl- 
 edge by the law of exigence, just when it is needed, the 
 teacher finds in the text thus carefully "lessoned," 
 studied, and known by the pupil, " the grouno," _as 
 Ascham puts it, " of almost all the rewles that are so 
 busilie (anxiously) taught by the master, and so hardlie 
 learned by the scholer, -in all common scholes; which 
 after this sort the master shall teach without all error 
 [because founded on facts present to view], and the 
 scholer shall learne withoute great paine; the master 
 being led by so sui'e a guide, and the scholer being 
 brought into so plaine and easie a waie. And, there- 
 fore," he ])roceeds, " we do not contemne rewles, but we 
 gladlie teach rewles; and teach them more plainile, sen- 
 sibile, and orderlie than they be commonlie taught in 
 common scholes." 
 
 We see in Ascham's method, that the con(;rete pre-
 
 126 EDUCATIONAL METHODS. 
 
 ceded the abstract; the particulars, the generalization; 
 the examples of language, the grammatical rules. He 
 was thus carrying out the spirit of Dean Colet and Car- 
 dinal Wolsey, who had insisted, to nse the words of the 
 former, that if a man desires " to attain to understand 
 Latin books, and to speak and to write clean Latin, let 
 him above all busily (carefully) learn and read good 
 Latin authors of chosen poets and orators, and note 
 wisely how they wrote and spake, and study always to 
 follow them, desiring none other rules but their exam- 
 ples." After much more to the same effect, he ends his 
 instructions to the masters of St. Paul's School, by urg- 
 ing that " busy (careful) imitation with tongue and pen 
 more availeth shortly to get the true eloquent speech, 
 than all the traditions, rules, and precepts of masters." 
 Cardinal Wolsey uses nearly the same words in his direc- 
 tions to the masters of Ipswich School. 
 
 Into the further details of Ascham's method, so 
 quaintly described in the " Seholemaster," I cannot 
 entei', except to say that after a long training in double- 
 translations, with the constant application of grammar 
 rules as they are wanted (" the grammar booke being 
 ever in the scholer's hand, and also used by him, as a 
 dictionarie, for everie present use,") the master trans- 
 lates himself easy portions of Cicero into English, and 
 then requires the pupil, who has not seen the original, to turn 
 them into Latin. The pupil's work is then to be care- 
 fully compared with, and corrected by, the original, 
 " for of good heedtaking springeth chiefly knowledge." 
 This exercise prepares the scholar for independent com- 
 position in Latin. 
 
 There is one feature especially in this method, as
 
 ROGER ASCHAM. 12*7 
 
 described by Ascliam, worthy of careful notice, and that 
 is the close study of a small portion of literary matter, ending 
 in a complete mastery of it. Tlie various exercises of the 
 mlithod requii'e the pupil, as Aschain siiows, to s;o over 
 this portion at least a dozen times; and he adds signifi- 
 cantly, "always with pleasure; for pleasure allureth 
 love, love hath lust to labor, labor always attaineth his 
 purpose." By continually coming- into direct contact 
 with the phraseology of the text, the pupil masters the 
 form; and through the form penetrates into the spirit of 
 the author; or, as Ascliam phrases it, " by marking 
 dailie and following diligentlie the footsteps of the best 
 authors, the pupil understands their invention of argu- 
 ments, their arrangement of topics, and hereby," he 
 adds, "your scholar shall be brought not only to like 
 [similar] eloquence, but also to all true understanding 
 and rightful judgment for speaking and writing." It 
 appears, then, that Ascham's pupil proceeds firmly on a 
 broad basis of facts, which he has made his own by men- 
 tal conquest, and that this has been possible because the 
 field of conquest has been intentionally limited. It is 
 obvious that no method of teaching which consists in 
 bringing a bit of this thing (or author), a bit of that 
 thing (or author), transiently before the pupil's mind, 
 creating ideas, like dissolving views, each of which in its 
 turn displaces its predecessor, which makes acquisitions 
 only to abandon them before they are "incorporated 
 with the organic life of the mind," can possibly be a 
 good method. Hence the very general result of our 
 systems of education, so called, is a farrago of facts par- 
 tially hatched into principles, mingled in unseemly jum- 
 ble with rules half understood, exceptions claiming equal
 
 128 EDUCATIONAL METHODS. 
 
 rank with tlie rules, definitions dislocated from the ob- 
 jects they define, and tecliniealities which clog lather 
 than facilitate, as they should do, the operations ot ^.ie 
 mind. 
 
 It would be easy to show that tlie valuable ends of 
 instruction and education can only be gained by doing a 
 little well; tliat the ambition to grasp many things igno- 
 bly ends in the loss of the large majority of them [qui 
 trop emhrasse mal etreint) ; that apprehension is not com- 
 prehension, and generally, that to the characteristics of 
 a good method of teaching we must add this, tbat it 
 aims at securing mulium, but not multa. If the object of 
 education is training to faculty, to mental self-direction, 
 his principle must be constantly insisted on. I see, 
 however, with the deepest regret, that our educational 
 amateurs — men of the best intentions, but of no pi'ac- 
 tical experience — are continually violating it in their 
 persistent attempts to extend the curriculum of element- 
 ary instruction. A little bit of this knowledge, a little 
 bit of that — some information on this point, and some 
 on that — is so " useful." They forget that the most 
 useful thing of all is the formation of good mental 
 habits, and that these can only be formed by concentrat- 
 ing the mind on a few subjects, and making them the 
 basis of training. When this supremely useful object 
 has been gained, the curriculum may be extended ad 
 libitum; but not till then. What is really wanted in 
 primary, and indeed all classes of schools, is not so 
 much more subjects to teach, but the power of teaching 
 the ordinary subjects well. Ascham's method, then, 
 with some slight modifications, presents all the charac- 
 teristic features of a good method of teaching, and is.
 
 BATICH, STURM, COMKNIUS. 129 
 
 I need not point out, identical in principle with that 
 already illustrated. It is natural, simple, effective, al- 
 though so widely different, in most of its features, from 
 the traditional methods of our grammar schools; which 
 are, indeed, in most respects, suited to the mental con- 
 dition of the ambitious, active-minded, inventive few, 
 but not at all to the ordinary mental condition of the 
 many. We too often forget that the raison d'etre of the 
 schoolmaster is the instruction, not of the minority who 
 will and can teach themselves, but of the majority who 
 can but will not. Our teaching force should regulate 
 the movements rather of the ordinary planets than of 
 the comets of the system. 
 
 In the seventeenth century, a number of thoughtful 
 men — Germans — unsatisfied with the methods of educa- 
 tion then in vogue, began almost simultaneously to 
 investigate the princi])les of education; and, as the 
 result, arrived virtually at the conclusion on which 1 
 have so often insisted, that the teacher's function is 
 really defined by that of the pupil, and that it is by 
 understanding what he is, and what he does, that we 
 learn how to treat hirn wisely and effectively. The 
 eminent names of Ratich^ Sturm, and especially Come- 
 nius, are connected with this movement. I can do no 
 more than refer those who are interested in the details 
 to Von Raumer's valuable " Gesci)ichte der Piidagogik," 
 or to Mr. Quick's exposition of them in the " Essays on 
 Educational Reformers." The results may be stated in 
 Mr. Quick's words: 
 
 " 1. They (the reformers in question) proceed from 
 the concrete to the abstract, giving some knowledge of 
 the thino- itself before the rules which refer to it.
 
 130 EDUCATIONAL METHODS. 
 
 2. Tliey employ the student in analyzing matter put 
 before him, rather than in working synthetically accord- 
 ing to precept. 3. They require the student to teach 
 himf^elf, under the superintend e7hce of the master, rather than be 
 taught by the master, and receive anything on the 
 master's authority. 4. They rely on the interest ex- 
 cited in the pupil by the acquisition of knowledge; and 
 renounce coercion. 5. Only that which is understood 
 may be committed to memory." 
 
 The methods, then, of these reformers present the 
 same characteristics which we have deductively gained 
 by other means. 
 
 In a lecture on Methods, it is impossible to omit the 
 names of Locke and Rousseau. As, hoM'ever, it is easy 
 to read through the short and very interesting "Treatise 
 of Education" and the capital digest of the "Emile" 
 in Mr. Quick's book, I may pass them over. 
 
 We come liext to Festalozzi — a name of world-wide 
 renown, of still increasing influence. He differed essen- 
 tially from Comenius, whom he practically succeeded in 
 the history of education, in being a comparatively un- 
 educated man. When once reproached by his enemies 
 (of whom, from various causes, he had many) with being 
 unable to read, write, and cipher respectably, he frankly 
 acknowledged that the charge was true. On another 
 occasion he confessed to an " unrivalled incapacity to 
 govern " — a confession which discovered a most accur- 
 ate self-knowledge on his part; and generally, his whole 
 educational life bore witness to the deficiency of his 
 mental equipment and training. He often bitterly de- 
 plored, when he could not remedy, this ignorance and 
 incapacity. His mind, however, was remarkably active
 
 PESTALOZZl. 131 
 
 and enterprising, and his moral power truly immense. 
 A thousand criticisms on his want of knowledge, of 
 judgment, of the power of government, of even common 
 sense (as men usually estimate that quality), fall power- 
 less as attacks on a man whose unfailing hope, love, and 
 patience not only formed his inward support under trials 
 and disappointments, but combined with that intense ne- 
 cessity of action, which was the essence of his nature, 
 in stamping his moral influence on all around him. Vir- 
 tue, witl>»him, was not a mere word; it was an energetic, 
 ever-acting force.* To instruct and humanize the poor 
 wretched children who were generally his pupils, — to 
 relieve their physical wants and sufferings, — to sympa- 
 thize with them under their diflficulties, — was to him not 
 only a duty but a delight. To accomplish these objects, 
 he woi'ked like a horse (only harder), fagging and slav- 
 ing sometimes from three in the morning till eleven at 
 night, dressed himself like a mechanic, almost starved 
 himself, became, as he tells us, " the children's teacher, 
 trainer, paymaster, man-servant, and almost house- 
 maid;" and all this to gain the means for instructing, 
 boarding, sometimes even clothing, children who not 
 unfrequently rewarded his labors with ingratitude and 
 scorn. Pestalozzi was indeed the Howard of school- 
 masters. 
 
 It was his unbounded philanthropy that first led him 
 to become a schoolmaster. — his intense love and pity 
 
 * Like most enthusiasts, however, he exercised it very irregularly. On 
 one occasion, we are told, when reduced to the utmost extremity for want 
 of money, he l)orrowed 400 francs from a friend. Going home, he met a 
 peasant wringing his hands in despair for the loss of his cow. Without 
 a moment's hesitation, Pestalozzi put the jjurse with all its contents into 
 the man's hands and ran off, as quick as he could, to escape his thanks.
 
 132 EnUCATIONAL METHODS 
 
 that supplied both motive and means. He saw around 
 liim children perishino-, as he conceived, for lack of 
 knowledge; and though possessed of little himself, 
 though mentally untrained, though ignorant of the ex- 
 perience of other teachers, he resolved, witli such appli- 
 ances as he had, to commence the M'ork, The one rul- 
 ing thought in his mind was, " Here are poor ignorant 
 children. Frommy heart T pity them. I feel that lean 
 do them some good. Let me try." 
 
 It is not to be wondered at tliat his trials often proved 
 "trials" indeed, and ended in utter disa]i])()intment: for 
 although his educational instincts furnished him with 
 excellent r\otionsand theories about teaching, the actual 
 results were often unsatisfactory. In this intense eager- 
 ness to press forward, he never stopped to examine re- 
 sults, nor to co-ordinate means with ends. Provided 
 that he could excite, as he generally did, a vivid interest 
 in the actual lesson, he was contented with that excite- 
 ment as the end of his teaching. Thus, while he, to 
 some extent, developed the mental powers, he did not 
 even conceive of the higher eiul of training them to in- 
 dependent action. 
 
 In order tosliow what Pestalozzi's method of teaching 
 really was^ I shall quote some ])assages from an inter- 
 esting narrative written by Ramsauer, who was first a 
 pui)il and ihen a teacher in one of Pestalozzi's schools.* 
 
 Refeiring to his experience as a pupil, lie says, " I got 
 about as much regular schooling as the other scholars — 
 namely, none at all; but his (Pestalozzi's) sacred zeal, 
 
 * Those quotations are taken from a translation by Mr. Tilleard of Von 
 Ilaumer' s account of Pestalozzi's Life and System, given in the " (ie- 
 scliiclite der riidagogik,"
 
 PESTALOZZI. 133 
 
 l)is devoted love, which caused him to be entirely un- 
 mindful of himself, his serious and depressed state of 
 mind, which struck even the chiklren, made the deepest 
 impression on me, and knit my childlike and grateful 
 heart to his forever." 
 
 Pestalozzi had a notion "that all the instruction of 
 the school should start from form, number, and lan- 
 guage; so ihat the entire curriculum consisted of drawing, 
 ciphering, and exercises in language." "We neither 
 read nor wrote," says Ramsauer, " nor were we required 
 to commit to memory, anything secular or sacred." 
 " For the drawing, we had neither copies to draw from 
 nor directions what to draw, but only crayons and 
 boards; and we were told to draw 'what we liked.' . . 
 But we did not know what to draw, and so it happened 
 that some drew men and women, some houses, etc. . . 
 Pestalozzi never looked to see what we had drawn, or 
 rather scribbled; but the clothes of all the scholars, es- 
 pecially the sleeves and elbows, gave unmistakable evi- 
 dence that they had been making due use of their cray- 
 ons." [This is a remarkable specimen of children being 
 left to teach themselves, without the careful superintendence 
 of the teacher, and certainly does not recommend the 
 practice]. 
 
 "For the ciphering," Ramsauer says, " we had be- 
 tween every two scholars a small table pasted on mill- 
 board, on which, in quadrangular fields, were marked 
 dots which we had to count, to add together, to subtract, 
 to multiply and divide, by one another." [Here there 
 is obviously some siiperintendence; the character of it, 
 however, is seen in what follows]. '' But as Pestalozzi 
 only allowed the scholars to go over and repeat the ex-
 
 134 EDUCATIOXAL METHODS. 
 
 ercises in their turns, and never questioned them nor set 
 them tasks, these exercises, which were otherwise very- 
 good, remained without any great utility. He had not 
 sufficient patience to allow things to be gone over again, 
 or to put questions; and in his enormous zeal for the in- 
 struction of the whole school, he seemed not to concern 
 himself in the slightest degree for the individual 
 scholar." [These are Ramsauer's words, and they give 
 a curious idea of a superintendence which involved 
 neither knowledge of the nature of the machine, nor a 
 true conception of the end towards which it was work- 
 ing, nor any notion of the corrections necessary to con- 
 trol its abberrations and apply its action to special cases. 
 Yet, as making concrete matter the basis of the abstrac- 
 tions of number, it was good; and good, too, in employ- 
 ing the pupil's own observation, and his analytical and 
 synthetical faculties. Hence we find that Pestalozzi was 
 more successful in teaching arithmetic than anything 
 else]. 
 
 Ramsauer pi-oceeds, — "The best things we had with 
 him were the exercises on language, at least those which 
 he gave us on the paper-hangings of the school-room, 
 and which were real exercises on observation." " These 
 hangings," he goes on to say, " were very old and a good 
 deal torn; and before these we had frequently to stand 
 for two or three hours together; and say what we ob- 
 served in respect to the form, num'oer, position, and 
 color of the figures painted on them, and the holes torn 
 in them, and to express what we observed in sentences 
 gradually increasing in length. On such occasions he 
 would say, ' Boys, what do you see ?' (He never named 
 the gii'ls). Ans. — A hole in the wainscot (^meaning the
 
 PESTALOZZI. 135 
 
 hangings). P. — Very good. Now repeat after me : I 
 see a liole in the wainscot. I see a long hole in the 
 wainscot, Througli the hole I see the wall. Throngh 
 the long narrow hole I see the wall. P. — Repeat after 
 me: I see figures on the jiaper-hangings. 1 see black 
 figures on the paper-hangings. 1 see round black figures 
 on the paper-hangings, I see a square yellow figure on 
 the paper hangings. Beside the square yellow figure I 
 see black round figures, etc. 
 
 " Of less utility were those exercises in language 
 which he took from natural history, and in which we bad 
 to repeat after him, and at the same time to draw, as I 
 have already mentioned. He would sa}': — Amphibious 
 animals—crawling amphibious animals, creeping amphib- 
 ious animals. Monkeys — long-tailed monkeys, short- 
 tailed monkeys, — and so on." 
 
 Kamsauer adds, — " We did not understand a word of 
 this; tor not a word was explained; and it was all spoken 
 in such a sing-song tone, and so rapidly and indistinctly, 
 that it would have been a wonder if any one had under- 
 stood anything of it, and had learned anything from it. 
 Besides, Pestalozzi cried out so dreadfully loud and so 
 continuously that he could not hear us repeat after him, 
 the less so as he never waited for us when he had read 
 out a sentence, but went on without intermission, and 
 read off a whole page at once. Our repf tition consisted 
 for the most part in saying the last word or syllable of 
 each phrase; thus, 'JMonkeys — monkeys,' or 'Keys — 
 keys.' There was never any questioning or recapitu- 
 lation." 
 
 This long, but interesting account, from the pen of an 
 attached pupil, fairly represents (as we learn from Von
 
 136 EDUCATIONAL METHODS. 
 
 Raumer liimself, who spent nearly nine months in the 
 school) Pestak^zzi's actual teachint^, though not the ideal 
 which, in describing results to strangers, he often, in his 
 enthusiasm, substituted for it. 
 
 In criticizing it, we observe, in the first place, that 
 Pestalozzi's method excites mental action to some ex- 
 tent, but secures the ends neither of instruction nor 
 education. It scarcely at all recognizes the self-teaching 
 of the child, but rather supersedes it by the mechanical 
 repetition of the master's words. The observation of 
 the child, called for a moment to the properties of ob- 
 jects, is immediately checked by the resolution, on the 
 part of the teacher, of the lesson on things into a lesson 
 on words. The naming of qualities, not ascertained by 
 investigation, but pointed out by the tencher, constitutes 
 what Pestalozzi looked on in theory as a training of the 
 powers of ohservation. Von Raumer, Professors Maiden 
 and Mosely, and Herbert Spencer, all agree in their es- 
 timate both of the value of Pestalozzi's theory respect- 
 ing object teaching, and the comparative worthlessness 
 of his pi'actice. In fact, to hold up a piece of chalk be- 
 fore a class (keejiing ii in your own hands all the while,) 
 to call out " That is chalk! that is chalk! that is chalk!" 
 or " Chalk is white," " Chalk is hard," etc , is in no i)rop- 
 er sense teaching the properties oF chalk, but only the 
 names of its properties. Pestalozzi, however, never 
 saw this, nor that his method genei-ally had no tendency 
 to train the mind. An additional proof of his blind- 
 ness in this respect was that he drew up manuals of 
 instruction for his teachers which involved in their use 
 a perfectly slavish routine. Thus we learn from his 
 " Book for Mothers," that the teacher, in teaching a
 
 PESTALOZZl. 137 
 
 cliild the parts of liis own body (which he fancied was 
 tlio subject to be first taught), is to go, word for word, 
 tlirougli a quantity of such matter as this: — " The mid- 
 dle bones of the index finger are phiced outside, on the 
 middle joints of tlie index finger, betwcM^n the back and 
 middle members of the index finger," etc. Then he 
 compiled a S])elling-book containing long lists of words, 
 which were to be repeated to the infant in its cradle, be- 
 fore it was aible to pronounce even one of them, that 
 they might be deeply impressed on its memory by fre- 
 quent repetition. 
 
 On the whole, then, from Pestalozzi's method pur et 
 simple, there is little to be gained. It was much im- 
 proved subsequently by some of his teachers, Schmid, 
 Niederer, etc., who saw in his theories applications 
 which he failed to see himself. Had he been educated 
 in education, — had he, moreover, profited by the experi- 
 ence of others, — had he brought his practice into con- 
 formity with his principles (crude enough though some 
 of these were) — his career, instead of being a series of 
 failures and disappointments, many of them due, how- 
 ever, to his unrivalled " incapacity to govern," would 
 have been one of triumphant success. 
 
 As it is, we owe him much. His principles, and much 
 of his practice, are an inheritance that the world will 
 not willingly let die. Let us, however, leave the noble- 
 minded, self-sacrificing Pestalozzi, with all his virtues 
 and all his faults, and pass on to Jacotot. 
 
 It should be stated in the outset, that Jacotot was 
 rather an educator of the mind than of all the human 
 forces. He does not appear to have been placed in cir- 
 cumstances which required him to develop and train, by
 
 138 EDUCATIONAL METHODS. 
 
 special treatment, the physical and moral powers; al- 
 though the moral force of his own energetic character, 
 as well as that of his system, could not but be, and was, 
 vitally influential on the whole being of his j^upils. It 
 is, however, mainly as a teacher that I propose to con- 
 sider him. 
 
 But some here will enquire who was Jacotot ; — a 
 question I have no time to answer in detail. I can 
 merely say that he was born at Dijon in 1770; was edu- 
 cated at the college of that town; at nineteen years of 
 age took the degree of Docteur-dos-Lettres, and was 
 appointed Professor of Humanities (?'. e., grammar, rhet- 
 oric, and composition) in tlie same college; when the 
 troubles of his country arose, became, at the age of 
 twenty-two, a captain of artillery, and fought bravely 
 at the sieges of Maestricht and Valenciennes; was after- 
 wards made sub-director uf the Polytechnic School at 
 Paris; then Professor of the Method of Sciences at 
 Dijon; and later Professor of Pure and Transcendental 
 Mathematics, Roman Law, Ancient and Oriental Lan- 
 guages in different colleges and universities. Oblis:ed, 
 as a marked opponent of the Bourbons, to leave Fi'ance 
 on their restoration, he took refuge in Brussels, and was 
 in 1818 appointed by the Belgian government Professor 
 of the French Language and Literature in the Univer- 
 sity of Louvain; there discovered the method of teach- 
 ing which goes by his name; devoted the remainder of 
 his life to propagating it; and died at Paris in 1840, 
 being then seventy years of age. 
 
 We are told that, as a schoolboy, he displayed some 
 remarkable characteristics. He was what teachers, and 
 especially dull ones, consider a particularly " objectiona-
 
 JACOTOT. 139 
 
 ble " cliild. He was one of those children who "wanted 
 to know, you know," wliy tliis thing was so; why that 
 other thing was not. He showed little deference, I am 
 afraid, to the formal didactic prelections of his teachers. 
 Not that he was idle; far from that. We are told that 
 he delighted in the acquisition of all kinds of knowledge 
 that could be gained by liisown efforts, while he steadily 
 resisted what was imposed on him by authority; admit- 
 ting nothing which was prima facie conteaUMe; rejecting 
 whatever he could not see clearly; refusing to learn by 
 heart grammars, or, indeed, any mere digests of conclu- 
 sions made by others. At the same time he eagerly 
 committed to memory passages of authors which pleased 
 him, thus spontaneously preferring the society of the 
 "masters of the grammarians" to that of the grammari- 
 ans themselves. Even as a child, nearly everything he 
 knew he had taught himself. He was, in short, ill 
 adapted to be a pupil of any of those methods which, in 
 Mrs. Pipchin's fashion, are intended to open the mind of 
 a child like an oyster, instead of encouraging it to de- 
 velop like a flower. As a Professor, his rooms were 
 always crowded with eager pupils; and his inaugural 
 address, at Louvain, was received, we are told by one 
 who was present, with an enthusiasm like that which 
 usually greeted Talma on the stage. 
 
 His style of teaching, as a Professor, before the 
 invention of his method, was striking and original. 
 Instead of pouring forth a flood of information on the 
 subject under attention from his own ample stores, ex- 
 plaining everything, and thus too frequently superseding, 
 in a great degree, the pupil's own investigation of it, 
 Jacotot, after a simple statement of the object of
 
 140 EDUCATIONAL METHODS. 
 
 the lesson, with its leading divisions, boldly started 
 it as a quarry for the class to hunt down, and in- 
 vited every member to take part in the chase. AW 
 were at liberty to raise questions, make objections, 
 and suggest answers, to ask for facts as the basis of 
 arguments, to repudiate mere diclaclic authority. Dur- 
 ing the discussion, the teacher confined himself to ask- 
 ing questions, to suggesting now and then a fresh scent, 
 to requiring clear statements and mutual courtesy; but 
 of teaching, in the popular sense of the term, as consist- 
 ing in the authoritative communication of knowledge, 
 there was little or none. His object throughout was to 
 excite, maintain, and direct the intellectual energies of 
 his pupils — to train theui to think The lesson was 
 concluded by his summing up tbe arguments that had 
 been adduced, and stating clearly the results obtained.* 
 
 *Mr. Wilson of Rugby, in his admirable paper in the ''Essays on a 
 Liberal Educati,»ii," tluis describes, in almost identical terms, what he 
 considers a proper method of teaching science:— 
 
 " Theory and experience alike convince me that the master who is 
 teacliing a class quite unfamiliar with scientific method, ought to make 
 his class teach themselves, by tliinking out the subject of the lecture with 
 them, taking up their suggestions and illustrations, criticizing them, 
 limiting thein down, and proving a suggestion barren or an illustration 
 inapt; starting tlieiu on a fresh scent when they are at fault, reminding 
 them of some familiar fact they had overlooked, and so eliciting out of 
 the chaos of vague notions that are afloat on the matter in hand— be it the 
 laws of motion, the evaporation of water, or the origin of the drift— some- 
 thing of order, and concatenation, and interest, before the key to the 
 mystery is given, even if, after all, it has to be given. Training to think, 
 not to be a mechanic or surveyor, must be first and foremost as his object. 
 So valuable are the sulijects intrinsically, and such excellent models do 
 they provide, that the most stupid and didactic teaching will not be use- 
 less, but it will not be the same source of power that ' the method of 
 investigation' will be in the liands of a good master Smne few will 
 work out a logic of proof, and a logic of discovery, when the facts and 
 laws that are discovere<l and proved have had tiiiie to lie and crystallize 
 in their minds. But imbued witii scientific method they scarcely will be, 
 unless it sjjrings up spontaneously in them."— "On Teacliiiig Natural 
 Science in Scliools." A'ssays on a Liberal Education,, pp. 281, 282.
 
 JACOTOT. 141 
 
 We come now to the origin of Jacotot's method. In 
 entering on his duties at Louvain, he found that he had 
 to lecture to students, many of whom knew nothing of 
 French. As he was himself ignorant of Flemish, the 
 problem was how to teach them. He solved it in this 
 way. He put into their hands copies of Telemaque, 
 which contained a Flemish translation, not literal, on the 
 opposite page. After some exercises in pronunciation, 
 he directed the students, through an interpreter, to com- 
 mit to memory a few sentences of the French text, and 
 gather their general meaning from the version in their 
 own language. They were told, on the second, day, and 
 for several days, to add other porti(>ns in the same way, 
 while carefully repeating from the beginning. This 
 process, the laying in of materials, was repeated until a 
 page or two of the book was thoroughly known — that 
 is, known so that the pupils could go on with any sen- 
 tence of the French text from memory, when the first 
 word was given, or quote the whole sentence in which 
 any given word occurred, while they had at the same 
 time a general idea of the meaning. The teacher now 
 began, through his interpreter, to put questions, in or- 
 der to test their knowledge, not only of the sentences, 
 as wholes, but also of the component phrases and words. 
 As the process of learning by heart, and repeating from 
 tlie beginning, went on, the questions became more close 
 and specific, so as to induce in the pupils' minds analysis 
 of the text into its minutest elements. When about 
 half the first book of T6lemaque was thus intimately 
 known, Jacotot told them to relate in their own French, 
 good or bad, the substance, not the exact words, of this 
 or that paragraph of the portion that they knew, or to
 
 142 EDUCATIONAL METHODS. 
 
 read a paragrapli of another part of the book, and write 
 down or say what it was about. He was surprised at 
 their success in this syntbetic use of their fund of ma- 
 terials. He praised their achievements; saw, but took 
 no notice of, the blunders; or if he did, it was simply to 
 require the pupils to correct them themselves by refer- 
 ence to the text (just as Ascham did). He reckoned on 
 the power of the process itself, which involved an active 
 exercise of the mind, to correct blunders which arose 
 from inadvertence. In a very short time, these youths, 
 learning, repeating, answering questions, were able to 
 relate anything that they had first read over. Compo- 
 sitions of different kinds, their text furnishing both sub- 
 jects and language, were then given, and it was found 
 that as they advanced they spontaneously recognized in 
 their practice the rules of orthogi'aphy and grammar 
 (without having learned them), and at length wrote a 
 language not their own better (as Jacotot somewhat 
 extravagantly declared) — that is with a more complete 
 command of the force, correctness, and even grace of 
 style — than either himself or any of his colleagues. 
 
 All were surprised at the result of his experiment, but 
 Jacotot alone perceived the principles involved in it. 
 He saw — 
 
 (1.) That his pupils had learned French, not through 
 his knowledge of it — the circumstances forbade that — 
 but through tlie exercise of their own minds upon the 
 matter of the text, which they had committed to mem- 
 ory. If they had had any teacher, the book had been 
 their teachei*. It was from that source they had derived 
 all their knowledge, and the exercise of their observing, 
 remembering, comparing, generalizing, judging, and
 
 JACOTOT. 143 
 
 analyzing powers upon it had supi)led tlieiu with the 
 materials they employed in their synthetic applications. 
 
 (2.) He saw that, though he had been nominally their 
 teacher, they had really taught themselves, — that the 
 acquisitions they had made were their own acquisition^', 
 the fruit of th':'ir own mental exertions, — that the 
 method by which they had learned was i-ea-lly their 
 method, not his. 
 
 (3) He deduced from this observation, tiiat the func- 
 tion of the teacher is that of an external raoi'al force, 
 always in operation to excite, maintain and direct the 
 mental action of the pupils, — to encourage and sympa- 
 thize with his efforts, but never to supersede them. 
 
 After awhile Jacotot presented, in the form given 
 below, the result of his meditations on the principles 
 involved in his experiments. This precept for the guid- 
 ance of the teacher, is in fact— as will be at once seen — 
 an epitome of the method of the learner, and indeed of 
 all learners, whatever be their age, or the subject they 
 may wish to learn so as really to know. 
 
 This, then, is the fundamental precept of Jacotot's 
 method: — Ilfaut apprendre quelque chose, et y rapporter tout 
 le rede; i. e., the pupil must learn something, and refer 
 all the rest to it. When further explanation was de- 
 manded, he would reply to this effect: — 
 
 (l) Learn — i. e., learn so as to know thoroughly, per- 
 fectly, immovably {imperturbablement), as well six months 
 or twelve months hence as now — something, a portion 
 of a book, for instance. (2) Repeat that something, the 
 portion learned, incessantly — i. e., every day or fre- 
 quently {sans cesse), from the beginnmg, without any 
 omission, so that no part of it be forgotten. (3) liefted
 
 144 EDUCATIONAL METHODS, 
 
 upon the mattei* thus acquired — analyze it, decompose 
 it, re-combine the elements, make it a real mental pos- 
 session in all its details, interpret the unknown by it. 
 (4) Verifij -test general remarks— «'. e., grammatical and 
 other rules — by comparing them with the facts — the 
 phraseology and constructions which you already know. 
 In brief, learn, repeat, reflect, verifij, or if you like, learn, 
 verify, repeat, reflect; so that you learn first, the order of 
 the other processes is unimportant. Know facts, then; 
 bring all the powers of the mind to bear upon them; and 
 repeat what you know, to prevent its being lost. This 
 is the method of Jacotot, which may be otherwise repre- 
 sented thus: — 
 
 <- In all your learning, do homage to the authority of 
 facts. 
 
 (1) Apprenez. — ^Learn them accurately; grasp them 
 firmly; apprehend, so as to know them, 
 
 (2) Rapportez. — Compare them with each other, inter- 
 pret one by another, make the known explain the un- 
 known, generalize them, classify them, analyze them 
 into their elements, re-combine the elements, attach new 
 knowledge to the pegs already fixed in your mind. 
 
 (3) Repetez. — Don't let the facts slip away from you. 
 To lose them, is to waste the labor you spent in acquiring 
 them. Keep them, therefoi'e, continually before you by 
 repetition. 
 
 (4) Verifiez. — Test general principles, said to be found- 
 ed on them by confronting them with your facts. Bring 
 your grammatical rules to the facts, and explain the 
 facts by them. 
 
 In all this process, the pupil is employing natural 
 means for a natural end. He is doing what he did in
 
 JACOTOT. 1 45 
 
 the case of the pile-driving machine — observing, com- 
 paring, investigating, discovering, inventing: and if we 
 apply the tests — Mr. Marcel's or any otlier — of a good 
 method, we find them all in this, which is the methodof 
 the pupil, teaching liiinself under the direction of the 
 master. 
 
 It is, in short, as said before, the method by which all 
 learners — whether the little child in nature's infant 
 school, or the adult man in the school of science — learn 
 whatever they really know. In both cases, the essential 
 basis of all mental progress is a knowledge of facts — a 
 knowledge which, to be fruitful, must be gained at first 
 hand, and not on the report of others, must be strict and 
 accurate, and must be firmly retained. These are the 
 essential conditions for the subsequent operations by 
 which knowledge is appropriated, assimilated, and 
 incorporated with the organic life of the mind. On this 
 point, however, I cannot further dwell. 
 
 In order to make the principles of Jacotot's method 
 clearer by a practical example, I will give, in some de- 
 tail an account of his plan of teaching Reading. 
 
 In this method, the sacred mysteries of b-a ha; l-e, he, 
 in pronouncing which. Dr. Bell gravely tells us " the 
 sound is an echo to the sense,'''' are together exploded; 
 those columns too, all symmetrically arranged in the ves- 
 tibule of the temple of knowledge to the dismay of the 
 young pilgrim to its shrine, are entirely ignored. The 
 sphynx of the alphabet never asks him what see-a-tee 
 spells, nor devours him if he fails to give the impossible 
 answer, cat. The child who has already learnt to speak 
 by hearing and using whole words, not separate letters 
 ' — saying hahy, not hee-a^ hee-wy — has whole words placed
 
 146 EDUCATIONAL METHODS. 
 
 before him. These words are at first treated as pic- 
 tures, which have names that he lias to learn to associ- 
 ate with the forms, in the same way that he already 
 calls a certain animal shape a cow^ and another a dog, anci 
 knows a certain face as mamma's, and another as papa^s. 
 Suppose we take a little story, which begins thus: — 
 
 "Frank and Robert were two little boys about eight 
 years old." 
 
 There is, of course, a host of reasons to show the un- 
 reasonableness of beginning to teach reading by whole 
 words. We ought, we are told, to begin with the ele- 
 ments, put them together for the child, arrange words 
 in classes for him, keep all difficulties out of his way, 
 proceed step by step from one combination to another, 
 and so on. Reflecting, however, that Nature does not 
 teach speaking nor give her object-lessons in this way, 
 but first presents wholes, aggregates, compounds, which 
 her pupil's analytic faculty resolves into their elements, 
 the teacher sets aside all these speculative difficulties; 
 and, believing in the native capacity of the child to ex- 
 ercise on printed words the same powers which he has 
 already exercised on spoken words, forms tbe connection 
 between the two by saying to the child, " Look at me '* 
 (not at the book). He then very deliberately and dis- 
 tinctly, but without grimacing, utters the sound "PVank'* 
 two or three times, and gets the child to do the same 
 repeatedly, so as to secure from the first a clear and 
 firm articulation. He then points to the printed word, 
 repeats "Frank" and requires the child, in view of it, 
 to utter the same sound several times. The first word 
 is learned and known. The teacher adds "and." The 
 child reads "Frank and." The teacher adds "Robert."
 
 Jacotot's method illustrated. 14^ 
 
 The child reads "Frank and Robert." The teacher asks, 
 "Which is 'Robert'? 'and"? What is that word?" 
 (pointing to it), "and that?" etc. The teacher says, 
 "Show me ' and,' 'Robert,' 'Frank,' in the same page — 
 in any page." 
 
 The same process is repeated with the rest of the 
 words of the sentence, and conies out thus: — 
 F'rank 
 Frank and 
 Frank and Robert 
 Frank and Robert were, etc.; 
 the pupil is told each word once for all, and repeats 
 from the beginning, that nothing ma}^ be forgotten. 
 By thus (1) learning, (2) repeating, he exercises percep- 
 tion and memory. 
 
 Suppose that the next sentences are — 
 
 "They were both very fond of playing with balls, 
 tops, and marbles. 
 
 " One day, as they were playing in the garden, it 
 began to thunder very loud and to rain very hard. 
 
 "So they ran under the apple tree." 
 
 All the words of these sentences may be gradually 
 learned, in the same way, in four, six, or ten lessons. 
 There is no need for haste. The only thing needful is 
 accurate knowledge — to have something [quelqm chose) 
 thoroughly, perfectly, immoveably known {imperturhable- 
 ment apprise). 
 
 The child has up to this point imitated the sounds 
 given him, has associated them with the signs, has exer- 
 cised observation and memory; so that wherever he 
 meets with these words in his book, the sign will suggest
 
 148 EDUCATIONAL METHODS. 
 
 the sound — or given t])C sound, lie will at once point out 
 the t*ign. 
 
 The teacher may now, if he thinks fit, begin to exer- 
 cise the child's analytical and inductive faculties; not, 
 however, necessarily on any symmetrical plan. He says, 
 " Look at me," and pronounces very distinctly f-rank, 
 repeating the process in view of the printed word. He 
 does the same wnth f-ond and f-aat, and asks the child, 
 " Wliich letter is/?" (the aiticulation, not the name ef). 
 The child points it out, and in this way / (that is, the 
 articulation, the power of it) is learned and known. 
 
 The teacher covers over \.he f m frank, and asks what 
 is left. The child replies " rank." The teacher pro- 
 ceeds as before, utteiing r-ank, and requiring the child 
 to read for himself R-ohert, r-ain, ran, and thus the artic- 
 ulation of initial r is mastered. In the same way, the 
 articulation Hs gained from l-ittle and l-oud Nor do the 
 mutes, as h and j3, present any difficulty. The utterance 
 of h-oys, h-oth, h-alls, h-egan suggests the necessary config- 
 uration of the organs, and the function of these letters 
 is appreciated. 
 
 The teacher may next, if he pleases, though it is not 
 necessary to anticipate the natural results of the process, 
 try the synthetic or combining powers of the child. He 
 writes on a black-board, in priming letters, the words, 
 fold, falls, fops, fain, frond, fray, ray, rap, lank, flank, last, 
 loth, lops. Id, lair, lap, bank, hat, hold, hay, blank, etc., and 
 requires the child, without any help ivhatever, to read them 
 himself. Most children will do this at once. If there 
 is any difficulty, a simple reference, to the words Frank, 
 little, hoys, etc., without any explanation, will immediately 
 dispel it.
 
 jacotot's method illustrated. 149 
 
 It is not necessary, I repeat, for the teaclier thus to 
 antici])ate the iiievituble results of the process. The 
 quickened mind of tlie pupil will, of its own accord, ana- 
 lyze aj)d combine, in its natural instinct to interpret 
 the unknown by the known. Tlie only essential parts of 
 the process are learning and repeating from the begin- 
 ning; all the rest <l(.pends on these. And in guiding 
 the mind of the pupil to the intellectual use of his 
 materials, the teacher should be under no anxiety about 
 the length of the process. He should often practise a 
 masterly inactivity; should know how to gain time by 
 losing it — to advance by standing still. If he have a 
 genuine belief in the native capacity of his pupils' 
 minds, he need have no fear as to the result. The pupil 
 (1) learning, (2) rejieating, (3) reflecting — i. e., analyz- 
 ing or de-composing, (4) re-combining, is all along em- 
 ploying his active powers as an observer and investi- 
 gator, and learns at length to read accurately and to 
 articulate justly. The names of the letters may be given 
 him when he has thus learned their powers. It is a con- 
 venience, nothing more, to know them. The young 
 carpenter saws and planes no better for knowing the 
 naipes of his tools. 
 
 Such, then, is Jacotot's method applied to the teaching 
 of Reading. It ought, by theory, to accomplish this 
 object, and it does. While philosophers are discussing 
 the propriety of learning a subject without beginning 
 secundum artem at what they call the beginning, the child, 
 like the epic poet, dashes in medias res, and arrives at the 
 end long before the discussion is over. A young inves- 
 tigator of this school, initiated in the habit of actively 
 employing his mind ou the subject of study, laughs at
 
 150 EDUCATIONAL METHODS. 
 
 the ingenious arrangements, however kindly meant, 
 furnished by various spelling-book makers, to aid him 
 in his career. He turns aside from ram, rem, rim, rom, 
 rum, — adge, edge, idge, odge, and udge, — indeed, from all the 
 scientific permutations made for him on the assumption 
 that he cannot make them himself. He is told that 
 there is a go-cart provided to help him to walk, — that 
 the food is ready minced for his eating: but he chooses 
 to walk and comminute his food for himself. Why 
 should we prevent him ? 
 
 This method is essentially the same as M]\ Curwen's 
 "Look and Say Method," and that of the little book en- 
 titled "Reading without Spelling, or the Teacher's 
 Delight;" the only difference being that the teacher 
 here employs the process consciously as a means of 
 developing and training the mental powers as well as of 
 teaching to read, of education as well as of instruction. 
 
 My pleasant task is now done. I have left much 
 unsaid that I wish to say; and in criticising others, have, 
 no doubt, exposed myself to criticism. As that is the 
 common lot, I ought not to complain of it. I will, in 
 conclusion, go over the main points which I have 
 touched upon in the three lectures. 
 
 In my first Lecture I endeavored to show that educa- 
 tion is both a science and an art, and that the principles 
 of the science account for, "explain, and give laws to the 
 {)rocesses of the art; that the educator's own education 
 is incomplete without a knowledge of these principles, 
 which are ultimately grounded on those of Physiology, 
 Psychology, and Ethics; that this knowledge is useful, 
 not only in its application to the normal phenomena 
 occurring in practicCj but especially to the abnormal,
 
 REVIEW. 151 
 
 wliich demand for tlieir treatment all the resources of 
 the science; that knowledge of this kind is comparatively 
 rare among educators, and that its rarity is the main 
 cause of the unsatisfactory condition of much of our 
 education. 
 
 In the second Lecture, assuming the education ot the 
 educator, and confining myself to teaching, or the art of 
 intellectual education, I endeavored to show that the 
 teacher ought, in the first place, to have a just concep- 
 tion of his relation to his pupil; that this was gained by 
 his seeing in the child one who had learned, or taught 
 himself, all that he already knew, and inferring, there- 
 fore, that it was his business to continue the process 
 already begun; that it thus appeared that the child's 
 process of learning was, to a great extent, a guide to the 
 teacher's process of teaching, and that the joint opera- 
 tion in which both were engaged resolved itself into the 
 superintendence, or direction, by the teacher, of the 
 pupil's method of self-instruction. 
 
 In this Lecture, I have shown that a method of teaching 
 any subject is a special mode of applying the art of 
 teaching; that to be a good method, it must have cer- 
 tain characteristics, deduced from successful practice, 
 and ultimately referable to the principles of the science 
 of education, and I have described, and to some extent 
 criticized, a few well-known methods. 
 
 My simple aim, in these Lectures, has been to lead the 
 educator to form a high idea of his work; to show that 
 there are principles undei'lying his practice which it is 
 irapoi'tant for him to know, and to induce him to study 
 and apply them, not only for his own sake, but as a 
 • protest against the despotism of routine, which has so
 
 152 EDUCATIONAL METHODS. 
 
 long hindered eduention from claimino; its professional 
 rightsMn England. I trust I have not altogether failed 
 to accomplish ray purpose.
 
 EDUCfiTlONAL METHODS-ANALYSIS, 
 
 I. Science, Art, and Metliod dixtingimhed 1 1 
 
 II. Method the test of the Art , 1 1 (I 
 
 1. Best method that which teaches the pupil to thiol?,. ! IT 
 (a) Centrifugal and centripetal forces 117 
 
 2. Characteristics of a good method 118 
 
 {a) Beginning witli the tangible 118 
 
 {b) Employing first analysis, then synthesis 118 
 
 (c) Making the pupil an explorer 11!) 
 
 {d) Leading him from the known to the unknown __.l 1!) 
 
 {e) Imparting only clear ideas 119 
 
 (/) Leading to mental self-direction ... 1 1 9 
 
 {q) Dispensing with explanations 119 
 
 3. The teacher must know the mind he deals with r20 
 
 III. Marcel's doctrine of Methods 1 20 
 
 1. A good method favors self-teachinir 121 
 
 2. A good method is in accordance with nature ..121 
 
 3. A good methdd comprises analysis and synthesis 121 
 
 4. A good method is both practical and comparative. .132 
 
 5. A good method is an instrument of mental culture.. 122 
 
 IV. Roger Ascham's method of teaching Latin. 
 
 1. Its leading features: 
 
 (a) Memorizing of material to work with 124 
 
 {b) Translation of Cicero's letters 124 
 
 (c) Application of grammatical principles learned 124 
 
 (rf) Review 124 
 
 (e) Reproduction of the letter in English 124 
 
 (/) Re-translation of the letter into Latin 124 
 
 {g) Comparison with the original 125 
 
 (/t) Translation of English into Latin he has not seen. 127 
 
 2. Characterized by a complete mastery of a little 127 
 
 (a) Prime requisite to good method ...128 
 
 153
 
 ^EDUCATIONAL METHODS. 
 
 a The end should be to do !, ]itt]e ^ell 128 
 
 fj Not many things but much 128 
 
 (J) This principle forgotten in some modern systems.. lao 
 
 (c) The school not for the few, but for tlie many 129 
 
 V. Principles of the German Educators of the 17th Century ^ 129 
 
 1. Proceed from the concrete to the abstract.. ._130 
 
 2. Analysis precedes synthesis 130 
 
 3. The pupil teaches himself, render direction .130 
 
 4. The interested pupil needs no coercion 130 
 
 5. Only what is understood should be memorized 130 
 
 VI. Pestalozzi. 
 
 1. His character 130 
 
 («) A man uneducated and undisciplined 131 
 
 Q)) His mind active and enterprising... .131 
 
 (c) His moral power immense 131 
 
 a A teacher because a philanthropist 132 
 
 {d) Did not conceive the higher end of training 132 
 
 2. His method of teaching ..133 
 
 {a) Form taught without superintendence 133 
 
 {h) iVi/irnJer taiigiit with imperfect superintendence.. 134 
 
 a But begun with concrete objects.. 134 
 
 fS Employed the pupil's observation 134 
 
 (c) Language taught by names, not things 135 
 
 ft Object-teaching by /i«wies of properties 137 
 
 (i To be taught through slavish routine 137 
 
 y Spelling-books for inarticulate babies 137 
 
 3. Little to be gained directly from his method 138 
 
 VII. Jacoiot, an educator of mind, rather than of forces 138 
 
 1. His history ..138 
 
 2. His characteristics: 
 
 (a) A dull and "objectionable" scholar 139 
 
 {b) Self-taught even from childhood 140 
 
 3. His style of teaching... 140 
 
 (a) To excite, maintain, and direct mental energy 140 
 
 4. History of his methods: 
 
 («) Effort to teach Flemish children French 141 
 
 {b) Principles established by the experiment 143
 
 ANALYSIS. 165 
 
 a The language loarned by direct study 143 
 
 /j The pupils their own teachers 143 
 
 ;' The function of the teacher to direct mental 
 
 action 143 
 
 5. Principle: Learn one thing, and refer the rest to lhat.144 
 
 (a) Learn, so as to know thoroughly 144, 143 
 
 (b) Repeat, so that nothing be forgotten 144, 145 
 
 (o) Reflect, so that it becomes a mental possession. 144, 145 
 (rf) Verify, by comparison with facts 144, 145 
 
 6. Illustration of Jacotot's method ^146 
 
 {a) Alphabetical teaching of reading discarded 14G 
 
 (b) First, the word-method 147 
 
 (c) Then the phonic method. _..148 
 
 {(l) The teacher's masterly inactivity ---15o 
 
 (e) It does teach the pupil to read 1 52 
 
 VIII. Review of the previous lectures 153
 
 PRINCIPLES OF 
 THE SCIENCE OF EDUCATION. 
 
 I. General PRiNCirLES. 
 
 1. Every child is an organism, furnished by the Cre- 
 ator with inherent capabilities of action, and surround- 
 ed by material objects which serve as stimulants to ac- 
 tion'. 
 
 2. The channels of communication between the ex- 
 tern al stimulants and the child's inherent capabilities of 
 action are the sensory organs, by whose agency he re- 
 ceives impressions. 
 
 3. These impressions, or sensations, being incapable 
 of resolution into anything simpler than themselves, are 
 the fundamental elements of nil knowledge. The de- 
 velopment of the mind being with the reception of sen- 
 sation. 
 
 4. The grouping of sensations forms perceptions, 
 which are registered in the mind as conception of ideas.* 
 The development of the mind, which begins with the 
 recei)tion of sensations, is carried onward by the forma- 
 tion of ideas. 
 
 5. The action and reaction between the external 
 stimulants and the mind's inherent powers, involving 
 
 * By "conception," or "idea," is meant tlie trace, residuum, or ideal sub- 
 stitute wliicli represents the real perception. 
 166
 
 r.ENKRAL PRINCIPLES. l57 
 
 processes of developrnontf and implying growth, may be 
 regarded as constituting a system of natural education. 
 
 6. A system of education implies — (1) an educating 
 influence, or educator; (2) a being to be educated, or 
 learner; (3) matter for tlie exercise of the learner's pow- 
 ers; (4) a method by which the action of these powers is 
 elicited; and (5) an end to be accomplished. 
 
 7. In the case before us, the educating influence, or 
 educator, is God, represented by Nature, or natural cir- 
 cumstances; the being to be educated, or learner, a 
 child; the matter, the objects and i^henomena of the ex- 
 ternal world; the method, the processes by which this 
 matter is brought into communication with the learner's 
 mind; and the object or end in view, intellectual de- 
 velopment and growth. 
 
 In view of the different agencies concerned in effect- 
 ing this intellectual education, and of their mutual re- 
 lation, we arrive at the following: 
 
 II. Peixciples of Natural Edijcation, 
 
 I. Nature, as an educator, recognizes throughout all 
 his operations the inherent capabilities of the learner. 
 The laws of the learner's being govern the educator's 
 action, and determine what he does, and what he leaves 
 undone. He ascertains, as it were, from the child hitn- 
 self ho^v to conduct his education. 
 
 II. The natural educator is the prime mover and di- 
 rector of the action and exercise in which the learner's 
 education consists. 
 
 III. The natural educator moves the learners's mind 
 
 t The term "development" is here employed for that unfolding of the 
 natural powers of which "growth" is the registered result.
 
 158 PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION. 
 
 to action by exciting his interest in the new, the won- 
 derful, the beautiful; and maintains this action through 
 the pleasure felt by the learner in the simple exercise of 
 his own powers — the pleasure of developing nnd growing 
 by means of acts of observing, experimenting, discover- 
 ing, inventing, performed by himself — of being his own 
 teacher. 
 
 IV. The natural educator limits himself to supply- 
 ing material suitable for the exercise of the learner's 
 powers, stimulating these powers to action, and main- 
 taining their action. He co-operates with, but does not 
 supersede, this action. 
 
 V. The intellectual action and exercise in which the 
 learner's education essentially consists are performed by 
 himself alone. It is what he does himself, not what is 
 done for him, that educates him. 
 
 VI. The child is therefore a learner who educates 
 himself under the stimulus and direction of the natural 
 educator. 
 
 VII. The learner educates himself by his personal 
 experience; that is, by the direct contact of his mind at 
 first hand -with the matter — object of fact — to be learned. 
 
 VII [. The mind, in gaining knowledge for itself, 
 proceeds from the concrete to the abstract, from par- 
 ticular facts to general facts, or principles; and from 
 principles to laws, rules, and definitions; and not in the 
 inverse order. 
 
 IX. The mind, in gaining knowledge for itself, pro- 
 ceeds from the indefinite to the definite, from the com- 
 pound to the simple, from complex aggregates to their 
 component parts, from the component parts to their 
 Qonstitutional elements — by the method of Investiga-
 
 JNATURAL EDUCATION. 159 
 
 tfon. It employs both Analysis and Synthesis in close 
 connection. 
 
 X. The learner's process of self-edncation is condi- 
 tioned by certain laws of intellectual action. These are 
 — (1] the Law of Consciousness; (2) of Attention, includ- 
 ing that of Individuation, or singling out; (3) of Relativ- 
 ity, including those of Discrimination and Similarity; 
 (4) of Retentiveness, including those of Memory and 
 Recollection; (5) of Association, or Grouping; (6) of 
 Reiteration, or Repetition, including that of Habit. 
 
 XL Memory is the result of attention, and attention 
 is the concentration of all the powers of the mind on the 
 matter to be learned. The art of memory is the art of 
 paying attention. 
 
 XII. Ideas gained by personal experience are sub- 
 jected by the mind to certain processes of elaboration ; 
 as classification, abstraction, generalization, judgment, 
 and reasoning. These processes imply the possession of 
 ideas gained by personal experience, and they are all 
 performed by the youngest child who possesses ideas. 
 
 XIII. The learner's knowledge consists in ideas, gained 
 from objects and facts by his own powers, and conscious- 
 ly possessed — not in words. The natural educator, by 
 his action and influence," secures the learner's possession 
 of clear and definite primary ideas. Such ideas, so 
 gained, are necessarily incorporated with the organic 
 life of the learner's mind, and become a permanent part 
 of his being. 
 
 XIV. Words are the conventional signs, the objec- 
 tive representatives, of ideas, and their value to the 
 learner depends on his previous possession of the ideas
 
 160 PRINCIPLES OP EDUCATION. 
 
 they represent. The words, without the ideas, are not 
 knowledge to liim, 
 
 XV. Personal experience is the condition of develop- 
 ment, whether of the body, mind, or moral sense. What 
 the child does himself, and loves to do, forms his habits 
 of doing; but the natural educator, by develoi^ing his 
 powers and promoting their exercise, also guides him to 
 the formation of right habits. He therefore encourages 
 the physical development which makes the child healthy 
 and robust, the intellectual development which makes 
 him thoughtful and reasonable, and the moral develop- 
 ment which makes him cajDable of appreciating the beau- 
 tiful and the good. This threefold development of the 
 child's powers tends to the formation of his bodily, men- 
 tal, and moral character, and prepares him to recognize 
 the claims of religion. 
 
 XVI. Education as a whole consists of development 
 and training, and may therefore be defined as "the cul- 
 tivation of all the native powers of the child, by exercis- 
 ing them in accordance with the laws of his being with 
 a view to development and growth." 
 
 The above general facts or principles being the results 
 of an analytical investigation into the nature of thechild 
 as a thmking being, and into the processes by which his 
 earliest education is carried on, constitute the Science 
 of Natural Education. 
 
 But as it is the same tiiind which is to be cultivated 
 throughout, Natural E'lucation is the pattern or model 
 of Formal Education, and consequently the Science of 
 Natural Education is the Science of Education in gen- 
 eral.
 
 THE ART OP EDUCATION. 161 
 
 The formal educator or teacher, therefore, who pro- 
 fesses to take up and continue the education begun by 
 Nature, is to found his scheme of action upon the 
 above principles, and in supplementing and compliment- 
 ing the natural educators's work, he is to proceed on the 
 same lines. He is not to intrude modes of action which 
 contravene and neutralize the principles of natural edu- 
 cation. 
 
 III. The Art of Education. 
 
 1. Art is the application of the laws of Science to a 
 given subject under given circumstances. 
 
 2. The Art of Education, or Teaching, is the explicit 
 display of the implicit priuciples of the Science of Edu- 
 cation. 
 
 3. The principles alreadj' stated set the child or pu- 
 pil before us as one who gains knowledge for himself, at 
 first hand, by the exercise of his own native powers, 
 through personal experience, and therefore as a learner 
 who teaches himself. 
 
 4 This is the central principle of the Art of Teach- 
 ing. It serves as a limit to define both the functions of 
 the formal teacher, and the nature of the matter on 
 which ihe learner's powers are first to be exercised — 
 that is, of the subject of instruction. 
 
 5. The limit which includes also excludes — it pro- 
 scribes as well as j^rescribes. The teacher who regards 
 the child as a learner who is to teach liimsulf through 
 personal experience is therefore interdicted from doing 
 anything to interfere with the learner's own method, — 
 from telling, cramming, explaining, and even from cor- 
 recting, merely on his own authority, the learner's blun- 
 ders. The function assigned him by the Science of Edu-
 
 162 PRINCIPLES OF EDtJCATIOJ^. 
 
 cation is that of a stimulator, director, and s'Uperintend- 
 ent of the learner's work, and to that office he is to co)i- 
 fine himself. 
 
 6. But the limit in question determines also the 
 character of the matter on which the learner's powers 
 are to be first exercised. If he is to teach himself, he 
 can only do so by exercising his mind on concrete ob- 
 jects or actions — on facts. These furnish him with 
 ideas. He cannot teach himself by abstractions, rules, 
 and definitions, packed up for him in words by others; 
 for these do not furnish him with ideas of his own. In 
 all that he has to learn he must begin with facts — that is, 
 with personal experience. It is clear, then, that the con- 
 ception of the learner as a self-teacher determines both 
 the manner in which he is to be taught and the means. 
 
 7. This notion of the Art of Teaching, which has 
 specially in view the period of the child's life when the 
 formal teacher first takes him in hand, in order to 
 develop and train his mind, is capable of general appli- 
 cation. It applies therefore, with tlie requisite modifi- 
 cations, to instruction properly so called, which consists 
 in the orderly and systematic building of knowledge 
 into the mind, with a definite object. 
 
 8. The teacher, therefore, educates by instructing, 
 and instructs by educating. Education and instruction 
 are diiferent aspects of the same process. 
 
 9. The sttm of what has been laid down is, that the 
 Art of Education consists in the practical application of 
 principles gained by studying the nature of the child; 
 the central iDrinciple, which governs all the rest, being 
 that it is what tlie child does for and by himself that 
 educates him.
 
 PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATIOH-ANALYSIS. 
 
 I. General Principles. 
 
 1. The child is au organism...- 155 
 
 2. He receives impressions by the sensory organs .155 
 
 3. These sensations are the elements of knowledge 155 
 
 4. The grouping of sensations forms perceptions 155 
 
 5. Action and re action constitute education 156 
 
 6. A system of education requires: 
 
 {a) An educator, (6) a learner, (c) matter, (d) method, 
 
 (e) an end- 156 
 
 7. In natural education Nature is the teacher 156 
 
 II. Principles of the Science of Educdtion. 
 
 1. Nature recognizes inherent capabilities 156 
 
 2. The teacher is the mover and director 157 
 
 3. The learner's mind is stimulated by being interested. .157 
 
 4. Suitable material provided, the pupil does the work. 157 
 
 5. The child is educated by what he does himself 157 
 
 6. The child educates himself under direction 157 
 
 7. The learner educates himself by personal experience -157 
 
 8. The mind proceeds from concrete to abstract 157 
 
 9. The mind employs both analysis and synthesis 158 
 
 10. Self-education is conditioned by the laws of: 
 
 (ffi) Consciousness, {b) attention, {c) relativity, {d) re 
 
 tentiveness, (e) association, (/) repetition 158 
 
 11. Meniory is the result of attention 158 
 
 12. Sensations are elaborated by classification, etc 158 
 
 13. The learner's knowledge is measured by ideas, 
 
 not words - - - - - 158 
 
 14. Words valuable only to represent ideas possessed. -.159 
 
 15. Personal experience a condition of development 159 
 
 16. Education consists of development and training 159 
 
 163
 
 164 ANALYSIS. 
 
 III. Principles of the Art of Education. 
 
 1. Art the application of {generals to particulars 160 
 
 2. The Art of Education explicit display of the Science. 160 
 
 3. The child is a learner who teaches himself .-160 
 
 4. This is the central principle _. 160 
 
 5. Telling, cramming, exp4aining, interdicted 161 
 
 6. The pupil must begin with personal experience 161 
 
 7. This art is to be practically applied to instruction. .161 
 
 8. Education by instruction, instruction by education. 162 
 
 9. What the child does is what educates him 162
 
 THEORIES OF TEACPIING WITH THEIR 
 CORRESPONDING PRACTICE.* 
 
 There are, as we know, many metliods of leaching. 
 There are, for instance, Aschara's, Hamilton's, and Ollen- 
 dorf's method of teaching languages, and Pestalozzi's 
 and Jacotot's methods of teaching generally; there are 
 the methods of the old Grammar School, and those of 
 the Dame Schools, and of the Kindergarten and a great 
 many others. Each of these has a theory which under- 
 lies it and accounts for its specialty. Into the details, 
 however, of various methods I am not about to enter; my 
 purpose is the more general one of endeavoring to ascei'- 
 tain the leading spii'it which pervades them all, inde- 
 pendently, for the most part, of the details. 
 
 A little consideration of the subject, will, I believe, 
 justify us in taking, as the criterion of this spirit, the 
 aspect under which we I'egird the relation of the teacher to 
 the pupil, and of both to their joint work. One teacher 
 may regard the communication of his own ideas to his 
 pupil as his proper and special function, and their minds 
 as a sort tabula rasa, on which he has to write himself- 
 According to this theory, he will then treat them merely 
 as recipients, and will carefully tell them what they ought 
 to receive, and how they ought to receive it. In placing 
 facts before them, he will tell them what conclusions 
 
 *Read at a meeting of the Education Department of tlie Social Science 
 Association, Monday, 26tli April 1869. 
 
 165
 
 166 THEORY OF EDUCATION". 
 
 they are to draw from them. When his pupils comm.it 
 faults he will correct them himself even though no use 
 whatever is made of the corrections by them. He will 
 be so careful that the pupil should not go wrong that he 
 will continually interfere with his free action, by urging 
 him to aim at this point and avoid that — in short, he 
 will assume that the ability of the pupil to observe, 
 compare, reason, think, depends almost entirely upon his 
 own continual telling, showing, explaining, and thinking 
 for him. Such a teacher evidently has a mean opinion of 
 the pupil's i^owers, he assumes that they cannot work 
 without the constant intervention of his own, and con- 
 siders that in the joint operation carried on by himself 
 and his pupil, he takes, and ought to take, the larger 
 share. 
 
 Another teacher entertains a very different view of 
 the relation he sustains to his })upil. He sets out, 
 indeed, with a different estimate of the pupil's native 
 ability, which he regards as competent to observe facts, 
 compare them together and draw inferences respecting 
 them without any authoritative interference on his part. 
 He sees this native faculty at work in daily life, and 
 therefore knows that it can be erajDloyed in self-instruc- 
 tion. He trusts in it, therefore, and never tells the 
 pupil what he can find out for himself; he does not 
 superfluously explain relations between objects or facts 
 which exjilain themselves by the simple juxtaposition of 
 the objects and facts. He does not correct blunders 
 which almost invariably arise either from insufiicient 
 knowledge or from carelessness: in the one case he 
 requires the pupil to gain the knowledge required, or 
 leaves the blunder for subsequent correction; in the
 
 THE OIJ) EDUCATION, AND THE NEW. 167 
 
 otliei- he demands more attention, and expects the ])npil 
 to correct his own blunders. He feels no inordinate 
 anxiety about his pupil's occasional errors of judgment, 
 jirovided that his mind is actively engaged in the subject 
 under instruction, in short, seeing that the child is pur- 
 suing, in a natural Avay, his own self-teaching, he is 
 anxious not to supersede his efforts by any needless, and 
 probably injurious, interference with the process. He 
 judges, therefore, that in the joint operation referred to 
 it is the pupil and not himself who is to take the far 
 larger share, inasmuch as the pupil's ultimate power of 
 thinking will be in the inverse ratio of the teacher's 
 thinking for him. 
 
 It is evident that these different conceptions of the 
 relation between the teacher and the pupil, are not 
 easily reconcilable with each other, and that the practi- 
 cal results must be respectively very different. These 
 results I will not now endeavor to estimate, but address 
 myself to r>iy immediate purpose, which is to maintain 
 the latter theory, and to show that learning is essentially 
 self-tuition, and teaching the superintendence of the process; 
 and, in short, that compendiously stated, the essential 
 function of the teacher consists in helping the pupil to 
 teach himself. 
 
 It may be worth wliile to inquire for a few minutes 
 into the exact meaning, as fixed by etymological consid- 
 erations, of the words learn and teach. As words repre- 
 sent ideas, we may thus ascertain what conceptions 
 were apparently intended to be represented by these or 
 equivalent symbols. Now it does seem remarkable that, 
 in European languages at least, to learn means to gather 
 or glean for oneself — and teach, to guide or superintend.
 
 168 THEORIES OF EDUCATION. 
 
 In no case that I ana aware of do these words imply a 
 correlation of receptivitij on the one hand, with communi- 
 cativeness on the other. A brief referenoo to the facts 
 will be sufficient to show this. I take the wora lca*-n 
 first, becai;se learning must precede teacliing. Learn, in 
 the earliest form of our lauguaae, which we erroneously 
 call Anglo-Saxon instead of Original or Primitive Eng- 
 lish, was leorn-ian, a derivative of the simpler form Icer-an, 
 to teach. There is reason to believe that the longer 
 form with the epenthetic n represents a class of words 
 once not uncommon in Gothic languages, though now no 
 longer recognized in practice — I mean words endued in 
 themselves Mith the functions of reflective or passive 
 verbs. Thus, in Moeso-Gothic, we have lukan, to shut or 
 lock up, luhi-an, to lock oneself up, or to be locked up; 
 wak an, to wake another, xoahi-ayi, to wake oneself, to be 
 awake. We have the corresponding awake arid awaken 
 ourselves. If this analogy be correct, then leorn-ian, as 
 connected with Icer-an, to teach, means to teach oneself, 
 i. e., to learn. As, however, the director of a work 
 often gets the credit due to his subaltern, so the pei'son 
 who directed his pupil to do his work of teaching him- 
 self was formerly said — and the usage still exists — to 
 learn or larn the pupil. In nearly all European lan- 
 o-uacjes, this double force of the word is found. Three 
 hundred years ago even it was unquestionably good 
 English to say, as Cranmer does in his versioti ot the 
 Psalter — " Lead me forth in thy truth and learn me," 
 and as Shakespeare does in the person of Caliban — "The 
 red plague rid you for learning me your language." 
 But whiit does the original root leer mean '? It is evi- 
 dently equivalent to the jMoeso-Gothic lais or les ; s being
 
 ETYMOLOGY OF " TEACH " AND " LEARN." 169 
 
 intercliangeable witli r, as we see in the Latin, arhos, arbor 
 and in the German, etsen, compared with our iron. But 
 the Moeso-Gotiiic lais or les is identical with the German, 
 les or lesen, and means to pluck., gather, acquire, read, learn, 
 and we have still a trace of it in our provincial word 
 leasing — gleaning or gathering up. The primitive mean- 
 ing then of the root lar, of our original English must 
 have been the same as that of the Moeso-Gothic les^ 
 though, for reasons already referred to, the causative 
 sense to make to gather, acquire or learn, must have been 
 very early super-added. On the whole, then, it appears 
 sufficiently clear that to learn is to gather or glean for 
 oneself — i. e., to teach oneself. But the correlative teach 
 also requires a moment's consideration. This is derived 
 from, or equivalent to, the original English, tcec or tach 
 (in tsec-an or ta3ch-an), to the German, zeig (in zeigen), to 
 the Moeso-Gothic tech (in techan), to the Latin doc (in 
 docere), or die in di(c)scere (of which the ordinary form 
 is discere) and to the Greek Seik (in dei/cwm). This 
 common root means to show, point out, direct, lead the wag. 
 The same idea is conveyed by the French equivalents 
 montrer and enseigner, both meaning, as we know, to teach. 
 
 The etymology, then, in both instances supports the 
 theoiy that learning is gathering up or acquiring for one- 
 self, and teaching, the guiding, directing, or superintend- 
 ing of that process. 
 
 The pupil, then, by this theory is to advance by his 
 own efforts, to work for himself, to learn for himself; to 
 think for inmself ; and the teacher's function is to con- 
 sist mainly in earnest and sympathizing direction. He 
 is to devote his knowledge, intelligence, virtue, and ex- 
 perience to that object. He has himself travelled the
 
 1*70 THEORIES OF EDUCATION. 
 
 road before which he and iiis young companion are to 
 travel together; lie knows its difficulties, and can sym- 
 pathize with the struggles which must he made against 
 them. He will therefore endeavor to gain his pupil's 
 confidence, by entering into them, and by suggesting 
 adequate motives for exertion when he sees the needful 
 courage failing. He will encourage and animate every 
 honest and manful effort of his pupil, but, remembering 
 that he is to be v^. guide and not a hearer, he will not even 
 attempt to supersede that labor and exercise which con- 
 stitute the value of the discipline to the pupil, which he 
 cannot take upon himself without defeating the very 
 end in view. 
 
 It is worth while here to meet a plausible objection 
 which has been taken against this view of the teacher's 
 function. If, it is said, the pupil really after all learns 
 by himself without the intervention of the teacher's 
 mind in the process — though the intervention of hiswor- 
 al influence is strenuously insisted on — then this superin- 
 tendent of other people's efforts to gain knowledge may 
 really have none himself; this director of machinery ujay 
 know nothing of mechanics. This objection is perti- 
 nent and deserves attention. It is obvious that the teach- 
 er who is really able to enter into his pupil's difficulties 
 in learning effectively ought to be well furnished with 
 knowledge and experience. Knowledge of the subject 
 under instruction is to be required of the teacher, both be- 
 cause the recognized possession of it gives him weight 
 and influence, and because the jjossession of a large 
 store of well-digested knowledge is itself distinct evidence 
 that its owner has gone through a course of healthful 
 mental discipline, and is on that ground — other things
 
 THE TEACHEtt A GUIDE. 1*71 
 
 being equal — a fit and jn-oper person to superintend 
 those wlio are going tlirough the same discipline. 
 Knowledge also of a S])ecial kind he ought to have — 
 that derived Ironi thoughtful study, accompanied by 
 practice, of the machinery which he is to direct. He is 
 not, by the assumption, iiimself an essential part of it, 
 but as an overlooker or engineer he certainly ought to 
 be acquainted with its natui'e and construction, so as to 
 be able to estimate its working power, and to know 
 when to start and when to stop it, to prevent both in- 
 action and overaction. A teacher, then, without some 
 knowledge of psychology, gained both systematically 
 and by experience and observation, could hardly be con- 
 sidered as fully equipped for this work. But I need not 
 dwell further on this point, though I could not well 
 leave it unnoticed. 
 
 It appears, then, that the teacher of apupil who teach- 
 es himself will find quite enough to do in his work of 
 superintendence and sympathy. It is only as far as the 
 mental process of learning that the pupil is in any sense 
 independent of him. 
 
 I do not profess to describe in philosophic terms 
 what the mental process which we call learning really 
 is, but it is necessary for my argument to maintain that 
 whatever it is, it can no more be pex'formed by deputy 
 than eating, drinking, or sleeping, and further, that 
 every one engaged in performing it is really teaching 
 himself. If, then, the views Ihave suggested of the re- 
 lation between the teacher and the learner be generally 
 correct, and the latter really learns by teaching himself, 
 it would follow that if we could only ascertain his meth- 
 od as a learner, we should obtain the true elements of
 
 172 THEORIES OF EDUCATIO^^ 
 
 ours as teachers; or in otiier woriis, that true principles 
 of the art of teaching would be educed from those in- 
 volved in the art of learning, though the converse is by- 
 no means true. 
 
 The establishment of these principles would furnish 
 us with a test of the real value of some of the practices 
 in current use amongst teachers, and perhaps help to lay 
 the foundation of that teaching of the future, which will 
 as I believe, indentify self-tuition, under competent 
 guidance, with the scientific method of investigation. 
 
 But I must endeavor to enlarge the field inquiry, and 
 show that self-tuition under guidance is the only possi- 
 ble method in the acquirement of that elementary in- 
 struction which is the common property of the whole hu- 
 man race. Long before the teacher, with his apparatus 
 of books, maps, globes, diagrams, and lectures, appears 
 in the field, the child has been pursuing his own educa- 
 tion under the direction of a higher teacher than any of 
 those who bear the technical name. He has been learn- 
 ing the facts and ])lienomena which stand for words 
 and phrnses in the great book of Natuie, and has also 
 learned some of the conventional signs by which those 
 facts and phenomena are known in his mother-tongue. 
 
 As my general proposition is that the art of teaching 
 should be, as far as possible founded on those processes 
 by which nature teaches those who have no olher teacher 
 — those who learn by themselves — it is important to 
 glance at a few of these processes. 
 
 Nature's earliest lessons consist in teaching her pupils 
 the use of their senses. The infant, on first opening his 
 eyes, probably sees nothing. A glare of light stimulates 
 the organ of sight, but makes no distinct impression up-
 
 THE INFANT AS A STUDENT. 1*73 
 
 on it. Ill a sliort time, liowever, tlielio;lit reflected from 
 the various objects around him impinges with more or 
 less force, npou the eye and impresses upon it the im- 
 ages of tilings without, tlie idea of the image is duly 
 transferi-ed to the mind — and thus the first lesson in see- 
 ing is given. 
 
 This idea of form, is, howevei-, complex in its chnrac- 
 ter, which arises from the fact that the objects pre- 
 sented to his attention are wholes or aggregates. He 
 learns to recognize them in the gross before he knows 
 them in detail. He has no choice but to learn them in 
 this way. No child ever did learn them in any other 
 way. Nature presents him with material objects and 
 facts, or things already made or done. She does not 
 invite him, in the first instance, before he knows in a 
 general way the whole object, to observe the constituent 
 parts, nor the manner in which the parts are related to 
 the whole. She never, in condescension to his weakness 
 of perception, separates the aggregate in its component 
 elements — never presents these elements to his cousider- 
 tion one by one. In short, she ignores altogether in her 
 earliest lessons the synthetical method, and insists on 
 his employing only the analytical. As a student of the 
 analytical method he proceeds with his investigations, 
 observing resemblances and differences, comparing, con- 
 trasting, and to some extent generalizing (and thus 
 using the synthetical process), until the main distinc- 
 tions of external forms are comprehended, and their 
 more important parts recognized as distinct entities, to 
 be subsequently regarded themselves as wholes and de- 
 composed into their constituent parts. Thus the child 
 goes on with Nature as his teacher, learning to read for
 
 174 THEORIES OF EDUCATION. 
 
 himself and by himself the volume she spreads out before 
 him, masterino; first some of its sentences, then its phras- 
 es and words, and lastly, a few of its separate letters. 
 
 So with regard to the physical properties of objects as 
 distinguished from their mechanical divisions or parts. 
 What teacher but Nature makes the child an embryo 
 experimental philosopher ? It is she who teaches him to 
 teach himself the difference between hard and soft, bit- 
 ter and sweet, hot and cold. He lays hold of objects 
 within his reach, conveys them to his mouth, knocks 
 them against the table or floor, and by performing such 
 experiments incessantly gratifies, instructs, and trains 
 the senses of sight, touch, taste, smelling, and hearing. 
 At one time a bright and most attractive object is close 
 at hand. It looks beautiful and he wonders what it can 
 be. Nature whispers, " Find out what it is. Touch it." 
 He puts his fingers obediently into the flame, burns 
 them, and thus makes an experiment, and gains at the 
 same time an important experience in the art of living. 
 He does not, however, feel quite certain that this may 
 not be a special case of bad luck. He therefore tries 
 again, and of course with the same result. And now, 
 reflecting maturely on what has taken place, he begins 
 to assume that not only the flame already tried, but all 
 flames will burn him — and thus dimly perceiving the 
 relation between cause and effect, he is already track* 
 ing, though slowly and feebly, the footsteps of the induct- 
 ive philosophy. Even earlier in life — as soon, indeed, 
 as he was born, as Professor Tyndall remarks — urged 
 by the necessity of doing something for his living, he 
 improvised a suction-pump, and thus showed himself 
 to be, even from his birth, a student of practical science.
 
 nature's teaching. 175 
 
 These instances will serve to show that Nature's 
 earliest lessons are illustrations of the theory, that teach- 
 ing essentially consists in aiding tlie pupil to teach him- 
 self. The child's method of learning is evidently self- 
 tuition under guidance, and nothing else. He learns, 
 i. e., gathers up, acquu-es, knows a vast number of facts 
 relating to things about him; and, morever, by imita- 
 tion solely, he gains a practical acquaintance with the 
 arts of walking, seeing, hearing, etc. Who has taught 
 him ? Nature — himself — practically they are one. In 
 the oi-dinary sense, indeed, of the word teaching, Xatixre 
 has not taught liim at all. She has given him no rules, 
 no laws, no abstract principles, no formulre, no grammar 
 of hearing, seeing, walking, or talking; she simply gave 
 the faculty, supplied the material, and the occasion for 
 its exercise, and her pupil learnt to do bi/ doing. This is 
 what ISatm-e, the teacher, the guide, the directrix, did. 
 But something more she did, or rather in her wisdom 
 left undone. When her pupil, through carelessness and 
 heedlessness, failed to see what was before him, when 
 he blundered in his walking or talking, she neither in- 
 terposed to correct his blunders, nor indulged in out- 
 cries and objurgations against him. She bided her op- 
 portunity. She went on teaching, he went on learning, 
 and the blunders were in time corrected by the pupil 
 himself. Even when he was about to burn his fingers, 
 it was no part of her plan to hinder him from learning 
 the valuable lessons taught by the ministry of pain. 
 Perhaps in these respects, as well as in so many others, 
 teachers of children might learn something from the 
 example of their great Archididascalos. 
 
 But it will be objected that Nature's wise, authorita-
 
 176 THEORIES OF EDIJCATIOX. 
 
 tive teaching can be no guide for ns. She teaches by 
 the law of exigency, and her pupil must perforce learn 
 whether he will or not. In the society in which we 
 live there is no such imperative claim, and the teacher, 
 Avho appears as Nature's deputy, can neither wield her 
 authority nor adopt her methods. In reply to this ob- 
 jection it may be urged that Society's claims upon her 
 members are scai'cely less imperative than Nature's, and 
 that the deputy can, and ought to, act out his superior's 
 principles of administration. 
 
 Suppose then, for instance, that Society requires that 
 a child should learn to read. In this case, certainly, 
 Nature will not intervene to secure that special instruc- 
 tion, but the method adopted by her deputy may be, 
 and ought to be, founded on hers. Every principle of 
 Nature's teaching is violated in the oi'dinary plan of 
 commencing with the alphabet. Nature, as I have al- 
 ready said or implied, sets no alphabet whatever before 
 her pupil; nor is there in the teaching of Nature any- 
 thing that even suggests such a notion as learning 
 A, B, C. Nature's teaching, it cannot be too fre- 
 quently repeated, is at first analytical, not synthetical, 
 and the essence of it is that the pupil makes the analy- 
 sis himself. 
 
 Our ordinary teacher, however, in defiance of Nature, 
 commences his instruction in the art of reading with 
 A, B, C, pointing out each letter, and at the same time 
 uttering a sound which the child is expected to consider 
 as the sound always to be associated with that sign. 
 At length, after many a groan, the alphabet is learned 
 perfectly and the teacher proceeds to the combinations. 
 He points to a word, and the pupil says, letter by letter,
 
 THE WORD METHOD IN READING. 177 
 
 bee-a-tee, and then, naturally enough, comes to a dead 
 stop. His work is done. Neither he nor Sir Isaac 
 Newton in his prime, could take the next unexpected 
 step and compound these elements into hat. The sphynx 
 who proposes the riddle may indeed look menacingly 
 for the answer, hut by no possible chance can she get it. 
 The teacher then comes to the rescue, utters the sound 
 hat, which the child duly repeats, and thus the second 
 stage in reading is accomplished. 
 
 It will be observed that the only rational and sensible 
 feature in this process is the utterance and echo of the 
 sound hat in view of the word or sign, and if the teacher 
 had begun with this, and not confused the child by giv- 
 ing him the notion that he was learning a sound, when 
 he was in fact learning nothing but a name, Nature would 
 haveapprovedof the lesson, as analagous to those given by 
 herself. She might also have asked the teacher to notice 
 that the child learns to speak by hearing and using 
 whole words. Nobody addresses him as hee-a-hee-wy, nor 
 does he say em-a-em-em-a. He, in fact, deals with aggre- 
 gates, compares them together, exercises the analytical 
 faculty upon them, and employs the constituent ele- 
 ments which he thus obtains in ever new combinations. 
 There can be no doubt, then, that the child learns to 
 speak, by imitation, analysis, and practice. Why not, 
 then, says Nature, let him learn reading in the same way ? 
 Let him in view of entire words echo the sound of 
 them received from the teacher; let him learn them thor- 
 oughly as wholes; let him by analysis separate them in- 
 to their syllables, and the syllables into their letters, and 
 it will be found that the phonic faculty of the compound 
 leads surely and easily to that of its separate parts. The 
 
 G
 
 l^S THEOKIES OF EDrcATIOX. 
 
 fact of our ortliography is siugularly anomalous is an ar- 
 gument for, rather than against, the adoption of this 
 plan of teaching to read. 
 
 In pursuing this only natural method of instruction 
 we notice that the pupil frequently repeats the same 
 process, going over and over the same ground until 
 he has mastered it, and as in learning to walk he 
 often stumbled before he walked freely, and in learning 
 to talk often blundered and stammered before he used 
 his tongue readily, so while learning to read in Nature's 
 school, he will make many a fruitless attempt, be often 
 puzzled, often for awhile miss his path, yet all the while 
 he is correcting his errors by added knowledge and 
 experience, sharpening his faculties by practice, teaching 
 himself by his own active efforts, and not receiving 
 passively the explanations of others; deeply interested 
 too in discovering for himself that which he would be 
 even disgusted with if imposed upon by dogmatic 
 authority, he is trained, even from the very beginning, 
 in the method of investigation. I cannot but lookxipon 
 him as illustrating faithfully and fairly in his practice the 
 theory that learning is self-tuition under competent 
 guidance, and that teaching is, or ought to be, the super- 
 intendence of the process. 
 
 Did time permit I could give many illustrations of the 
 interest excited, and the efficiency secured, by this 
 method of teaching reading. For example, 1 have seen 
 and heard children earnestly petitioning to be allowed 
 to pursue their lessons in reading, after a short experi- 
 ence of it, by what they called the " finding out plan." 
 It was known to me more than forty years ago, as a 
 part of Jacotot's once renowned " Enseignement Uni-
 
 LORD BYROX'S EXPERIENCE. 179 
 
 versal," and I then put it to the severest test. It is also 
 substantially contained in Mr. Curwen's " Look and Say 
 Method," in the little book entitled "Reading without 
 Spelling, or the Scholar's Delight," and in articles by 
 Mr. Dunning and Mr. Baker, of Doncaster, in the 
 Quarterly Journal of Education for 1 834. A natural method, 
 like others, requires of course to be judiciously directed, 
 and the teacher's especial duty is in this, as in other 
 methods, to maintain the interest of the lesson, and 
 above all, to get the pupil, however young he may be, 
 to think ; especially as, according to the principles already 
 laid down, it is rather the pupil who learm than the 
 master who teaches. As a case in point I quote a passage 
 from the life of Lord Byron. Speaking of a school he 
 was in when five years of age, he says, " I learned little 
 there except to repeat by rote the first lesson of mono- 
 syllables, ' God made man, let us love hira, etc.,' by 
 hearing it often repeated without acquiring a letter. 
 Whenever proof was made of my progress at home, I 
 repented these words with the most rapid fluency, but 
 on turning over a new leaf, I continued to repeat them, 
 so that the narrow boundaries of my first year's accom- 
 plishments were detected, my ears boxed (which they 
 did not deserve, seeing that it was by ear only that I 
 had acquired my letters), and my intellects consigned 
 to a new preceptor." This case, however, proves only 
 that Byron had not been directed in teaching himself, 
 and that he was not a pupil of the analytical method. 
 His mind had taken no cognizance of the acquisitions 
 which he had mechanically made. 
 
 Another instance, much more to the point, is supplied 
 in a passage which I extracted many years ago from a
 
 180 THEORIES OF EDUCATION. 
 
 Report of the Gaelic School Society, and which con- 
 tains a most valuable lesson for the teachers of reading. 
 "An elderly female in the parish of Edderton was most 
 anxious to I'ead the Scriptures in her native tongue. 
 She did not even know the alphabet, and of course she 
 began with the letters. Long and zealously she strove 
 to acquire these, and finally succeeded. She was then 
 put into the syllable class, in which she continued some 
 time, but made so little progress that, with a breaking 
 heart, she retired from the school. The clergyman of 
 the parish, on being made acquainted with these cir- 
 cumstances, advised the teacher to send for her again, 
 and instead of trying her with syllables, to which she 
 could attach no meaning, to give her the sixth Psalm at 
 once. This plan succeeded to admiration: and when the 
 school was examined by a committee of presbytery, she 
 read the tnirty-seventh Psalm in a manner that aston- 
 ished all present." Whether this important discovery 
 — for it was nothing less — was made practically availa- 
 ble in the teaching of the parish of Edderton I do not 
 know; but I sliould not be surprised to find that the 
 good old A, B, C, and the cabalistical b-a, ba; b-e, be, 
 — in which Dr. Andrew Bell gravely tells us "the sound 
 is an echo to the sense!'''' — is still going on there as at 
 the beginning. 
 
 I have detained you long over the practical illustra- 
 tion contained in the method of teaching to read, be- 
 cause it really is a complete application of the theory 
 which I advocate, and involves such principles as these 
 which I state with the utmost brevity for want of time: — 
 
 1. The pupil teaching himself, begins with tangible 
 and concrete facts which he can comprehend,
 
 LIMITS OF TIIK TEACHEr's FUNCTION. 181 
 
 not with abstract principles which he cannot. 
 
 2. He employs a method — the analytical — which 
 
 lies in his own power, not the synthetical, which 
 mainly requires application ah extra. 
 
 3. His early career is not therefore impeded by need- 
 
 less precepts, and authoritative dogmas. 
 
 4. He learns to become a discoverer and explorer on 
 
 his own account, and not merely a passive recip- 
 ient of the results of other people's discoveries. 
 
 5. He takes a degree of pleasure in the discoveries 
 
 or acquisitions made by himself, which he can- 
 not take in those made by others. 
 
 6. In teaching himself he proceeds — he can only pro- 
 
 ceed — in projiortion to his strength, and is not 
 perplexed and encumbered by explanations, 
 which, however excellent in themselves, may not 
 be adapted — genei-ally are not adapted — to the 
 actual state of his mind. 
 
 7. He consequently proceeds from the known to the 
 
 unknown. 
 
 8. The ideas that he thus gains will, as natural se- 
 
 quences of those already gained by the same 
 method, be clear and precise' as far as they go, 
 and his knowledge will be accurate, though of 
 course very limited, because it is his own. 
 
 9. By teaching himself, and relying on his own pow- 
 
 ers in a special case, he acquires the faculty of 
 teaching himself generally — a faculty the value 
 of which can hardly be overrated. 
 If these principles are involved in the method of self- 
 tuition they necessarily define the measure and limit of 
 teacher's function, and show us what the art of teaching
 
 182 THEORIES OF EDUCATION, 
 
 ought to be. They seem also to render it probable that 
 mueh that goes under the name of teaching rather hin- 
 ders than helps the self-teaching of the pupil. The as- 
 sumption of the pupil's inability to learn except through 
 the manifold explanations of the teacher is inconsistent 
 with this theory, nor less so is the universal practice of 
 making technical definitions, abstract principles, scientific 
 rules, etc., form so large a portion of the pabulum of 
 the youthful mind. The superintending teacher by no 
 means however, despises definitions, princi))les and rules, 
 but he introduces them when the pupil is prepared for 
 them, and then he gets hira to frame them for himself. 
 The self-teaching student has no power to anticipate the 
 time when these deductions from facts — for such they all 
 ultimately are — will, by the natural course of mental de- 
 velopment, take their j^roper place in the course of in- 
 struction, and any attempt to force him to swallow them 
 merely as intellectual boluses prematui-ely can only end 
 in derangement of the digestive organs. His mind can 
 digest, or at least begin to digest, facts which he sees 
 for himself, but not definitions and rules which he has 
 had no share in making. He cannot, in the nature of 
 things, assume the conclusions of others drawn from facts 
 of which he is ignorant as his conclusions, and he is not 
 therefore really instructed by passively receiving them. 
 Those who take a different view from this of teaching 
 sometimes plead that inasmuch as rules and principles 
 are compendious expressions representing many facts, the 
 pupil does in learning them economize time and labor. 
 Experience does not, however, support this view, but it 
 is rather against it. The elementary puj)il cannot, if he 
 would, comprehend for instance the metaphysical, dls-
 
 NO "new education." 183 
 
 tinctions and definitions of grammar. They are utterly 
 unsnited for his stage of developenjent, and if violently 
 intruded into his mind they cannot be assimilated to 
 its substance, but must remain there as crude, undigest- 
 ed matter until the system is prepared fur them. When 
 that time arrives, he will welcome these compendious 
 generalizations of facts which when prematurely offered 
 he rejected with disgust. Stuffing a pupil with ready- 
 made rules and formulae may perhaps make an adept in 
 cramming, but is cramming the be-all and end-all of 
 education ? 
 
 But I must furl my sails and maka for land. The 
 idea which I have endeavored to give of the true rela- 
 tion of the pupil to the teacher, and which represents 
 the former as carrying on his own self-tuition- under the 
 wise superintendence of the latter, is of course not new. 
 Nothing strictly new can be said about education. The 
 elements of it may easily be found in the principles and 
 practice of Ascham, Montaigne, Ratich, Milton, Co- 
 meuius, Locke, Rousseau, Pestalozzi, Jacotot, and Her- 
 bert Spencer. Those who are interested in the subject 
 may find an account of the views and methods of these 
 eminent men in Mr. Quick's valuable little book on P^du- 
 cational Reformers. All, in fact, who have insisted on 
 the great importance of eliciting the pupil's own efforts 
 and not superseding, enfeebling and deadening them by 
 too much telling and explaining — all, too, who have 
 urged that abstract rules and principles should, in teach- 
 ing, follow, not precede, the examples on which they are 
 founded, have virtually adopted the theory.which I have 
 endeavored to state and illustrate. They have, in sub- 
 stance, admitted that the teacher's function is defined
 
 184 THEORIES OF EDUCATION. 
 
 by a true conception of the mental operation which we 
 call learning, and that that operation is radically and 
 essentially the work of the pupil, and cannot be j>er- 
 formed for hira. 
 
 If I have succeeded at all in the development of my 
 theory, it must be obvious that a pupil thus trained must 
 be a more accurate observer, a more skilful investigatoi", 
 more competent to detil with subjects of thought in an 
 intelligent way; in a word, a more awakened thinker 
 than one trained in accordance with the opposit e theory. 
 The process he goes through naturally tends to make 
 him such, and to prepare him to appreciate and adopt 
 in his subsequent career the methods of science. It is 
 the want of that teaching which comes from himself 
 that makes an ordinary pupil the slave of technicalities 
 and routine, that prevents liira from grai)pling with a 
 common problem of arithmetic or algebra unless he hap- 
 pens to remember the rule, and from demonstrating a 
 geometrical proposition if he forgets the diagram; 
 which, even though he may be a scholar of Eton or 
 Harrow, leaves hira destitute of power to deal at sight 
 with a passage of an easy Greek or Latin author. In 
 the great bulk of our teaching, with of course many 
 and notable exceptions, the native powers of the pupil 
 are not made the most of, and hence his knowledge, 
 even on leaving school, is too generally a farrago of 
 facts only partially hatched into principles, mingled in 
 unseemly jumble with rules scarcely at all understood, 
 exceptions claiming equal rank with the rules, defini- 
 tions dislocated from the objects they define, and tech- 
 nicalities which clog rather than facilitate the operations 
 of the mind.
 
 BETTER SCHOOLS FROM BETTER TEACHING. 185 
 
 A slight exercise of our memories, and a slight glance 
 at the actual ?tate of things amongst us, will, I believe, 
 witness to the substantial truth of this statement. If, 
 however, we want other testimony, we may find it in 
 abundance in the Reports and evidence of the four 
 Commissions which have investigated the state of edu- 
 cation amongst us; if we want more still, we may be 
 supplied — not, 1 am sorry to say, to our heart's content, 
 but discontent — in the reports of intelligent official ob- 
 servers from abroad. If we want more still, let us read 
 the petition's only lately presented to the House of Com- 
 mons from the highest medical authorities, who com- 
 plain that medical education is rendered abortive and 
 impossible by the wholly unsatisfactory results of mid- 
 dle-class teaching. Does it aj^pear unreasonable to sup- 
 pose that such a chorus of dispraise and dissatisfaction 
 could not be raised unless there were something in the 
 methods of teaching which naturally leads to the results 
 complained of ? If the quality of the teaching — I am 
 not considering the quantity — is not responsible for the 
 quality of its results, I really do not know where we are 
 to find the cause, and failing in detecting the cause, how 
 are we to hegin even our search for the remedy ? Theories 
 of teaching which distrust the pupil's native ability, 
 which in one way or other repress, instead of aiding, the 
 natural development of his mind, which surfeit him with 
 technicalities, which impregnate him with vague in- 
 fructuous notions that are never brought to the bii'th, 
 that cultivate the lowest faculties at the expense of the 
 highest, that make him a slave of the Rule-of-Thumb 
 instead of a master of principles — are these theories, 
 which have done much of the mischief, to be still relied
 
 1 86 THEORIES OF EDUCATION. 
 
 on to su[)])ly llie reform we need ? Or shall we find, at 
 least, some of the uerms of futuie life in the other 
 theory, which fiora the first confides in, cherishes, and 
 encourages the native powers of the child; which take 
 care that his acquisitions, however small, sliall be made 
 by himself, and secures their possession by repetition 
 and natural association; which invests his career with 
 the vivid interest which belongs to that of a discoverer 
 and explorer of unknown lands; wiiich, in short, to 
 adojjt the striking words of Burke, instead of serving 
 up to him barren and lifeless truths, leads 'him to the 
 stock on which they grew; which sets him on the track 
 of invention, and directs him into those paths in which 
 the great authorities he follows made their own discov- 
 eries ? Is a theory which involves such principles, and 
 leads to such results, worthy the consideration of those 
 wlio regard education as pre-eminently the civilizing 
 agent of the world, and lament that England, as a na- 
 tion, is so little fraught with its spirit ?
 
 THEORY OF TEACHIN&.-AHLYSIS. 
 
 I. The Eelation of the Taicher to the Pupil. 
 
 1. The teacher that communicates ideas 165 
 
 (a) Has a mean opinion of the pupil's powers 166 
 
 3. Tlie teacher that guides to ideas ..166 
 
 {a) Pupils competent to observe, compare, infer 166 
 
 II. Learning is Self- Tuition. 
 
 1. Etymology of the words "learn "and "teach" 167 
 
 2. The teacher to be a guide 170 
 
 {a) The teacher must know psychology. .. 171 
 
 {b) He has quite enough to do 171 
 
 (c) The pupil's independence partial 171 
 
 {d) Methods of teaching derived from methods of 
 
 learning ..-. .. 172 
 
 3. Self-tuition the only acquirement of Itaowledge 172 
 
 («) Nature's process of teaching: 
 
 a First, use of the senses 173 
 
 fj Analj'sis precedes synthesis 173 
 
 ;' The child an experimental philosopher 174 
 
 d The child learns to do by doing . . 175 
 
 E He corrects his own blunders 175 
 
 (5) Society's claims, vs. Nature's 176 
 
 a Learning to read 176 
 
 y3 Lord Byron's experience... 179 
 
 y The old woman of Edderton 179 
 
 (c) Principles illustrated. 
 
 a The pupil begins with facts 180 
 
 /i He uses analysis . . 180 
 
 y He is not impeded by precepts 180 
 
 d He learns to be an explorer 180 
 
 E He takes pleasure in his discoveries _. 161 
 
 ? He proceeds according to his strength 181 
 
 187
 
 188 THEORIES OF EDUCATION. 
 
 7j He goes from the known to the unknown 181 
 
 S His ideas are clear so far as they go 181 
 
 7 He acquires the habit of self-teaching -.181 
 
 {d) Application to prevalent methods 181 
 
 a Much teaching a hindrance. 182 
 
 f3 Principles should be developed, not memorized -.182 
 
 y^ No economy in cramming ...182 
 
 ni. These principles accepted by all great teachers 183 
 
 1. Want of self teaching makes one a slave of routine. 184 
 
 2. Reports show inefficiency of present schools 184 
 
 3. The remedy, better knowledge of our work ...185
 
 THE IMPORTANCE OF THE TRAINING 
 OF THE TEACHER. 
 
 In the first place, I wish to make a few remarks on the 
 terra "profession," as applied to teaching. It cannot be 
 said, strictly, that we have in England, at this moment, 
 any profession of teaching. The term " profession," 
 when properly, that is, technically employed, connotes 
 or implies " learned;" and involves the idea of an incor- 
 porated union of persons qualified by attainments and by 
 a scientific training for a particular calling in life, and 
 duly authorized to pursue it. It is in this sense alone 
 that the term is employed, in speaking of the prof essions 
 of law, medicine and theology. As, however, in the 
 case of education — and speaking particularly of second- 
 ary education — no positive attainments, no special train- 
 ing, no authoritative credentials whatever are demanded 
 as professional qualifications, it is obvious that there is, 
 strictly speaking, no profession of teaching amongst us, 
 and that when we use the term "profession" in this ap- 
 plication of it, we use it in a vague, inaccurate and un- 
 technical sense. As to attainments none whatever are 
 required of the person who *' professes " to teach. The 
 profound ignoramus, if sufficiently endowed with assur- 
 ance, may compete tor public patronage on nearly equal 
 terms with the most cultivated student of learning and 
 science, and may in many cases even carry off the prize; 
 while as to training, the teacher who has severely disci- 
 
 189
 
 190 IMPORT AXCE OF TRAINING. 
 
 plinecl his mind by tlie study of the theory of education, 
 and carefully conformed his practice to it, scarcely 
 stands a better chance of success than the ignorant pre- 
 tender who cannot even define the term "education; " 
 who has no conception of the meaning of "training; " 
 and whose empirical self-devised methods of instruction 
 constitute the sum total of his qualifications for the office 
 he assumes. 
 
 Lastly, as to credentials, both classes of teachers, the 
 qualified and the unqualified, stand on precisely the same 
 footing before the public. No authoritative exequatur dis- 
 tinguishes the competent from the incompetent teacher. 
 Both jostle each other in the strife for pre-eminence, and 
 the public look on all the while with indifference, appar- 
 ently unconscious that their children's dearest interests 
 are involved in the issue. 
 
 It is obvious then, that as neither knowledge, trainings 
 nor credentials are required of the teacher, there can be 
 no " profession of teaching." The assumption, however, 
 that there is such a profession, and that any one who 
 pleases may claim to be a member or it, has proved very 
 injurious to the interests of the public. Girls left un- 
 provided for, young widows left in a similar predicament, 
 and many others suddenly plunged into difficulties and 
 obliged to cast about for a livelihood, often can think of 
 no other employment than that of teaching, which, as be- 
 ing in common parlance " professional," is therefore "gen- 
 teel;" and accordingly, without a single qualification, of- 
 ten with the disqualification that they have nearly all 
 their previous lives regarded teachers and teaching with 
 contempt, declare themselves before the world ready to 
 te^qh. The declaration, if it means anything, means
 
 TEACmNG ONLY A SEMI-PIBOFES^SION. 191 
 
 that they profess themselves ready to imclertake the 
 practice of an art which, beyond most others, requires 
 peculiar knowledge, experience, culture, and tact. It 
 means further, that they ai'e prepared to watch over the 
 development of a child's growing mind, to furnish it 
 with suitable mental food at the proper time; to see that 
 the food is thoroughly digested; to stimulate it to exer- 
 cise its faculties in the right direction; to curb its aberra- 
 tions; to elicit the consciousness of independent power ; 
 to form, in short, habits of thinking for life-long use. 
 All this, and very much more, is really involved in the 
 conception we ought to form of a teacher's functions; 
 and yet we see every day persons who have not even a 
 conception of this conception : persons destitute of all 
 knowledge of the subjects they profess to teach, of the 
 nature of the mind which is to be taught, of the practical 
 art itself, of the principles of education which underlie the 
 art, and of the experience of the most eminent instructors, 
 blindly and rashly forcing themselves before the world 
 as teachers. Such persons seem not to be aware that if 
 with similar qualifications they were to undertake to 
 practice the arts of medicine, law, architecture, engi- 
 neering, or music, they would be laughed at every where. 
 Yet these very persons, who would be instinctively con- 
 scious of their incompetency, without knowledge or train- 
 ing, to perform a surgical operation, to steer a vessel, to 
 build a house, or to guide a locomotive, are ready, at a 
 moment's warning, to perform any number of operations 
 on a child's mind, and to undertake the direction of its 
 mental or raornl forces — a task, considering the delicacy 
 of the machinery with which they have to deal, more dif- 
 ficult in many respects than any other that can be named.
 
 192 IMPOKTANCE OF TKAINING. 
 
 In maintaining, however, generally that the professor 
 of an art should understand its principles, and that he 
 cannot understand them without study and training, I 
 do not mean to assert that there may not be found 
 among those who feel themselves suddenly called upon 
 to act as teachers, especially among women, many, who 
 without obvious preliminary training, are really already 
 far advanced in actual training for the task they assume. 
 In these cases, superior mental culture, acute insight into 
 character, ready tact and earnest sympathy constitute, 
 pro ta?ito, a real preparation for the profession; and sup- 
 ply, to a considerable extent, the want of technical train- 
 ing. To such persons it not unfrequently happens that 
 a matiired consciousness of the importance of the task 
 they have undertaken, and actual contact with the work 
 itself, rapidly suggest what is needed to supplement 
 their inexperience. Such cases, however, as being rare 
 and exceptional, are not to be relied on as examples. 
 Even in them, moreover, a thoughtful study of the Sci- 
 ence of Education, and of the correlated Art, would 
 guide the presumed faculty to better results than can be 
 gained without it. 
 
 We can have little hesitation then in asserting that 
 the pretension to be able to teach without knowing even 
 what teaching means; without mastering its processes 
 and methods as an art; without gaining some acquaint- 
 ance with its doctrines as a science; without studying 
 what has been said and done by its most eminent prac- 
 titioners, is an unwarrantable pretension which is so near 
 akin to empiricism and quackery,* that it is difficult to 
 make the distinction. 
 
 ♦••Empiric; one of a sect of aiicieiit pliysiciaus, who practised from
 
 PRIMARY TEACHING. 193 
 
 There are, however, two or three fallacious arguments 
 sometimes urged against the preliminary training of the 
 teacher which it is important briefly to discuss. 
 
 The first is, that "granting the need of such training 
 for teachers of advanced subjects, it is unnecessary for 
 the teaching of elementary su})jects. Anybody can 
 teach a child to read, write, and cipher." This is, no 
 doubt, true, if teaching means nothing more than me- 
 chanical drill and cram; but if teaching is an art and 
 requires to be artistically conducted, it is not true. A 
 teacher is one who, having carefully studied the nature 
 of the mind, and learned by reading and practice, some 
 of the means by which that nature may be influenced, 
 applies the resources of his art to the child-nature before 
 him. Knowing that in this nature there are forces, 
 moral and intellectual, on the development of which the 
 child's well-being depends, he draws them forth by 
 repeated acts, exercises them in order to strengthen 
 them, trains them into faculty, and contiimally aims at 
 making all that he does, all that he gets his pupils to 
 do, minister to the consciousness of growth and power 
 in the child's mind. If this is a correct description of 
 the teacher's function, it is obvious that it applies to 
 every department of the teacher's work; as much to the 
 teaching of reading and arithmetic as to that of Greek 
 plays, or of Differential Calculus. The function does 
 not change with the subject. But I go further, and 
 maintain that the beginning of the process ol" education 
 is even more important in some respects than the later 
 stages. // w'/y a que le premier pas qui coute. The teacher 
 
 experience, not from theory."— '• Quack; a boastiul pretender to arts lie 
 does not understand."
 
 194 IMPORTANCE OF TRAINING. 
 
 who takes in hand the instruction and diix'ction of a 
 mind which has neverHbeen taught before, coraniences a 
 series of processes, which by our theory should have a def- 
 inite end in view — and tliat end is to induce in the child's 
 mind the consciousness of power. Power is, of course, 
 a relative term, but it is not inapplicable to the case be- 
 fore us. The teacher, even of reading, who first directs 
 the child's own observation on the facts in view — the 
 combination of tlie letters in separate words or syllables 
 — gets him to compare these combinations together, and 
 notice in what respect they differ or agree, to state him- 
 self the difference of agreement — to analyze each new 
 compound, into its known and unknown elements, ap- 
 plying the known, as far as possible, to interpret the 
 unknown — to refer each fresh acquisition to that first 
 made, to find out for himself everytliing which can be 
 found ont through observation, inference and reflection 
 — to look for no help, except in matters (such as the 
 sounds) wiiich are purely conventional — to teach him- 
 self to read, in short, by the exercise of his own mind — 
 such a teacher, it is contended, while getting the child 
 to learn how to read, is in fact, doing much more than 
 this — he is teaching the child how to use his mind — how 
 to observe, investigate, think * It will probably be 
 granted that a process of this kind — if practicable — 
 would be a valuable initiation for the child in the art of 
 learning gener^dly, and that it would necessarily be 
 attended by what I have described as a conciousness of 
 power. But, moreover, — which is also very important — 
 
 * See this process fully described in the Author's third lecture "On 
 the Science and Art of Education," published by the College of Precep- 
 tors, p. 63.
 
 THE BEST TEACHING NEEDED FIRST. 195 
 
 it would be attended by a consciousness of pleasure. 
 Even the youngest child is sensible of the charm of do- 
 ing things himself — of finding out things for himself ; 
 and it is of cardinal impoi'tance in elementary instruc- 
 tion to Iny the grounds for the association of pleasure 
 with mental activity. It would not be difficult, but it 
 is unnecessary, to contrast such a method as this, which 
 awakens all the powers of the child's mind, keeps them 
 in vivid and pleasurable exercise, and forms good men- 
 tal habits, with that too often pursued, which deadens 
 the faculties, induces idle hal)its, distaste for learning, 
 and incapacity for mental exertion. 
 
 It is clear, then, that "any teacher" cannot teach even 
 reading, so as to make it a mental exercise, and, conse- 
 quently, a pai't, of real education — in other words, so as 
 "to make all that he does, and all he gets his pupil to 
 do, minister to the consciousness of growth and power 
 in the child's mind." So far then from agreeing with 
 the proposition in question, I believe that the early 
 development of a child's mind is a woik that can only 
 effectually be performed by an accomplished teacher; 
 such a one as T have already described. In some of the 
 best German elementary schools men of literary distinc- 
 tion. Doctors in Philosophy, are employed in teaching 
 children how to read, and in the highly organized 
 Jesuit Schools, it was a regulation that only those 
 teachers who had been specially successful in the higher 
 classes should be entrusted with the care of the lowest. 
 
 There is, moreover, another consideration which de- 
 serves to be kept in view in discussing the competency 
 (»f "any teacher" to take charge of a child who is 
 beginning to learn. Most young untrained teachei's
 
 196 IMPORTANCE OF TRAINING. 
 
 fancy when they give their first lesson to a child who 
 has not been taught before, that they are commencing 
 its education. A moment's reflection will show that 
 this is not the case. They may indeed be commencing 
 its formal education, but they forget that it has been 
 long a pupil of that gi'eat School, of which Nature is 
 the mistress, and that their proper function is to continue 
 the education which is already far advanced. In that 
 School, observation and experiment, acting as superin- 
 tendents of instruction, through the agency of the child's 
 own senses, have taught it all it knows at the time 
 when natural is superseded, or rather supplemented by 
 formal education. Can it then be a matter of indiffer- 
 ence whether or not the teacher understands the pro- 
 cesses, and enters into the spirit of the teaching carried 
 on at that former School; and is it not certain that his 
 want of knowledge on these j)oints will prove very inju- 
 rious to the young learner ? The teacher who has this 
 knowledge will bring it into active exercise in every 
 lesson that he gives, and, as I have shown in the case of 
 teaching to read, will make it instrumental in the devel- 
 opment of all the intellectual faculties of the child. He 
 knows that his method is sound, because it is based on 
 Nature; and he knows, moreover, that it is better than 
 Nature's, because it supersedes desultory and fortuitous 
 action by that which is organized with a view to a defi- 
 nite end. The teacher who knows nothing of Nature's 
 method, and fails, therefore, to appreciate its spirit, de- 
 vises at haphazanl a method of his own which too 
 generally has nothing in common with it, and succeeds 
 in effectually quenching the child's own active energies; 
 in making him a passive recipient of knowledge, which
 
 NATURES TEACHING RECOGNIZED. 197 
 
 he has had no share in gaining; and in finally converting 
 him into a mere unintellectual machine. Untrained 
 teachers, especially those who, as the phrase is, "com- 
 mence" the education of children, are, as yet, little 
 aware how much of the dulness, stupidity, and distaste 
 for learning which they complain of in their pupils, is 
 of their own creation. The upshot then of this discus- 
 sion is, not that " any teacher," but only those teachers 
 who are trained in the art of teaching can be safely 
 entrusted with the education of the child's earliest 
 efforts i7) the career of instruction. 
 
 Another fallacy, which it is important to expose, is 
 involved in the assumption, not unfrequently met with, 
 that a man's "choosing to fancy that he has the ability 
 to teach, is a sufticient warrant for his doing so," leav- 
 ing, it is added, "the public to judge whether or not he 
 is fit for his profession." Ridiculous as this proposition 
 may appear, I have heard it gravely argued for and 
 approved in a soiiference of teachers, many of whom no 
 doubt, hud good grounds of their own for their adher- 
 ence to it. Simply stated, it is the theory of free trade 
 in education. Every one is to be at liberty to offer his 
 wares, and it is the buyer's business to take care that 
 he is not cheated in the bargain. It is unnecessary for 
 my present purpose to say more on the general proposi- 
 tion than this — that the state of the market and the 
 frequent inferiority of the wares invalidate the assump- 
 tion of the competency of the buyer to form a correct 
 estimate of the value of the article he buys, and, more- 
 over, that an immense quantity of mischief may be, and 
 actually is done to the parties most concerned, the 
 children of the buyers, while the hazardous experiment
 
 198 IMPORTANCE OF TRAINING. 
 
 is going on. As to the minor proposition, the man's 
 " choosing to fancy that he has the ability " to teach is 
 a sufficient warrant for his doing so, it is obviously in 
 direct opposition to the argument 1 am maintaining. It 
 cannot for a moment be admitted that a man's " choos- 
 ing to fancy that he has the ability " to discharge 
 a function constitutes a sufficient warrant for the in- 
 dulgence of his fancy, especially in a field of action 
 where the dearest interests of society are at stake. We 
 do not allow a man " who chooses to fancy that he has 
 the ability " to practise surgery, to operate on our limbs 
 at his pleasure, and only after scores of disastrous ex- 
 periments, decide whether he is "fit to follow^ the pro- 
 fession " of a surgeon. Nor do we allow a man who 
 may "choose to fancy that he has the ability" to take 
 the command of a man-of-war, to undertake such a 
 charge on the mere assurance that we may safely trust 
 to his "inward impulse." And if we require the strict- 
 est guarantees of competency, where our lives and 
 property are risked, shall we be less anxious to secure 
 them when the mental and moral lives of our children — 
 the children of our commonwealth — are endangered ? I 
 repudiate then entirely this doctrine of an "inward im- 
 pulse," which is to supersede the orderly training of the 
 teacher in the art of teaching. It has been tried long 
 enough, and has been found utterly wanting. Fallacies, 
 however, are often singularly tenacious of life, and w^e 
 are not therefore surprised at Mr. Meiklejohn's asser- 
 tion, that in more than 50 per cent, of the letters which 
 he examined, the special qualification put forw^ard by 
 the candidates was their " feeling " that they could per- 
 form the duties of the office in question to their own satis-
 
 THE "inward impulse ' THEORY. 199 
 
 faction. ( ! ) This is obviously only anotiier specimen, 
 though certainly a remarkable one, of the "inward im- 
 pulse " theory. 
 
 The third fallacy I propose to deal with is couched in 
 the common assumption that "any one who knows a 
 subject can teach it." There can be no doubt that the 
 teacher should have an accurate knowledge of the sub- 
 ject he professes to teach, and especially for this, if for 
 no other reason — that as his proper function is to guide 
 the process by which his pupil is to learn, it will be of 
 the greatest advantage to him as a guide to have gone 
 himself through the process of learning. But, then, it 
 is very possible that although his experience has been 
 real and personal, it may not have been conscious— that 
 is, that he may have been too much absorbed in the 
 l^rocess itself to take account of the natural laws of its 
 operation. This conscious knowledge of the method by 
 which the mind gains ideas is, in fact, a branch of Psy- 
 chology, and he may not have studied that science. 
 Nor was it necessary for his purpose, as a learner, that 
 he should study it. But the conditions are quite altered 
 when he becomes a teacher. He now assumes the direc- 
 tion of a process which is essentially not his but the 
 learner's; for it is obvious that he can no more think for 
 the pupil than he can eat or sleep for him. His efficient 
 direction, then, will mainly depend on his thoughtful 
 conscious knowledge of all the conditions of the prob- 
 lem which he has to solve. That problem consists in 
 getting his pupil to learn, and it is evident that he may 
 know his subject, without knowing the best means of 
 making his pupil know it too, which is the assumed end 
 of all his teaching: in other words, he may be an adept
 
 200 IMPORTANCE OP TRAINING. 
 
 in his subject, but a novice in the art of teaching it. 
 Natural tact and insight ujay, in many cases, rapidly 
 suggest the faculty that is needed; but the position still 
 remains unafiFected that knowing a subject is a very 
 different thing from knowing how to teach it. This 
 conclusion is indeed involved in the very conception of 
 an art of teaching, an art which has principles, laws, and 
 processes peculiar to itself. 
 
 But, again, a man profoundly acquainted with a sub- 
 ject may be unapt to teach it by reason of the very 
 height and extent of his knowledge. His mind habitu- 
 ally dwells among the mountains, and he has therefore 
 small sympathy with the toilsome plodders on the plains 
 below. It is so long since he was a learner himself that 
 he forgets the difficulties and perplexities which once 
 obstructed his path, and which are so painfully felt by 
 those who are still in the condition in which he once was 
 himself. It is a hard task, therefore, to him to conde- 
 scend to their condition, to place himself alongside of 
 them, and to force a sympathy which he cannot nat- 
 urally feel with their trials and experience. The teacher, 
 in this case, even less than in the other, is not likely to 
 conceive justly of all that is involved in the art of 
 teaching, or to give himself the trouble of acquiring it. 
 Be this, however, as ii may, both illustrations of the 
 case show that it is a fallacy to assert that there is any 
 necessary connection between knowing a subject, and 
 knowing how to teach it. 
 
 Having now shown that the present state of public 
 opinion in. England, which permits any one who pleases 
 to *'set up " as a teacher without regard to qualifications 
 is inconsistent with the notion that teaching is an art for
 
 CRAMMING DEFINED. 201 
 
 the exercise of which preliminary training is necessary, 
 and disposed of those prevalent fallacies which are, to a 
 great extent, constitnents of that public opinion, I pro- 
 ceed to give some illustrations of teaching as it is in 
 contrast with teaching as it should be. The fundamen- 
 tal proposition, to which all that I have to say on the 
 point in question must be referred, is this — that teach- 
 ing, in the proper sense of the terra, is a branch of edu- 
 cation, and that education is the development and train- 
 ing of the faculties with a view to create in the pupil's 
 mind a consciousness of power. Every process em- 
 ployed in what is called teaching that will not bear this 
 test is, more or less, of the essence of cramming, and 
 cramming is a direct interference with, and antagonistic 
 to, the true end of education. Cramming may be defined 
 for our present purpose as the didactic imposition on the 
 child's mind of ready-made results, of results gained by 
 the thought of other people, through processes in which 
 his mind has not been called upon to take a part. During 
 this performance the mind of the pupil is for the most 
 part a passive recipient of the matter forced into it, and 
 the only faculty actively employed is memory. The re- 
 sult is that memory instead of being occupied in its 
 proper function of retaining the imp7-ession left on the 
 mind by its own active operations, and being therefore 
 subordinate and subsequent to those operations, is forced 
 into a position to which it has no natural right, and 
 made to precede, instead of waiting on, the mind's ac- 
 tion. Thus the true sequence of causes and consequenc- 
 es is disturbed, and memory becomes a principal agent 
 in instruction. If we further reflect that ideas gained 
 by the direct action of the mind naturally find their
 
 202 IMPORTANCE OF TRAINING. 
 
 proper place among tlie other ideas already existing 
 thereby the law of association, while th-ose arbitrarily 
 forced into it do so only by accident — for the mind re- 
 ceives only that which it is already ])repared to receive 
 — we see tliat cramming, which takes no account of pre- 
 paredness, is absolutely opposed to development, that is 
 to education in the true sense of the term. Cramming, 
 therefore, has nothing in common with the art of teach- 
 ing, and the great didactic truth is established that it is 
 the manner or method rather than the thing taught, that 
 constitutes the real value of the teaching. 
 
 Mr. D'Arcy Thomson, in his interesting book entitled 
 " Wayside Thoughts," referring to the usual process of 
 cramming in education, compares it to the deglutition by 
 the boa constrictor of a whole goat at a meal, but he re- 
 marks that while the boa by degrees absorbs the animal 
 into his system, the human boa often goes al)out all his 
 life with the undigested goat in his stomach ! There 
 may be some extravagance in this whimsical illustration, 
 but it involves after all, a very serious truth. How 
 many men and women are there who, if they do not car- 
 ry the entire goat with them through life, retain in an 
 undigested condition huge fragments of it, which press 
 as a dead weight on the system — a source of torpidity 
 and uneasiness, instead of becoming through proper as- 
 similation a means of energy and power. The true edu- 
 cator, who is at the same time a genuine artist, proceeds 
 to his work on principles diametrically opposed to those 
 involved in cramming. In the first place he endeavors 
 to form a just conception of the nature, aims, and ends 
 of education, as of a theory which is to govern his pro- 
 fessional action. According to this conception "educa-
 
 METHOD OF THE TRUE TEACHER. 203 
 
 tion is tlie training carried on consciously and continu- 
 ously by the educator with the view of converting de- 
 sultory and accidental force into organized action, and 
 of ultimately making the child operated on by it a 
 healthy, intelligent, moral, and religious man." Con- 
 fining himself to intellectual training, he sees that this 
 must be accomplished througii instruction, which is 
 " the orderly placing of knowledge in the mind with a 
 definite object; the mere aggregation of incoherent ideas, 
 gained by desultory and unconnected mental acts being 
 no more instruction than heaping bricks and stone to- 
 gether is building a house."* These conceptions of the 
 nature and aim of education, and of its proper relation 
 to instruction, suggest to him the consideration of the 
 means to be employed. These means to be effectual 
 must have an exact scientific relation to the nature of 
 the machinery that is to be set in motion; a relation 
 which can only be understood by a careful study of the 
 machinery itself. If it is a sort of machinery which 
 manifests its energies in acts of observation, perception, re- 
 flection, and remembering, and depends for its efficacy upon 
 attention, he must study these phenomena subjectively in 
 relation' to his own conscious experience, and objectively 
 as exhibited in the experience of others. Regarding, fur- 
 ther, this plexus of energies as connected with a base to 
 which we give the name of mind, he must proceed to 
 study the nature of the mind in general, and especially 
 note the manner in which it acts in the acquisition of 
 ideas. This study will bring him into acquaintance with 
 certain principles or laws which are to guide and control 
 his future action. The knowledge thus gained will con- 
 *See the Author's " Lectures on the Science and Art of Education."
 
 204 IMPORTANCE OF TRAINI>;rT. 
 
 stitute liis iuitiatiou into the Science and Art of Educa- 
 tion. 
 
 The Science or Theory of Education then is seen to 
 consist in a knowledge of those principles of Psychol- 
 ogy, which account for the processes by which the mind 
 gains knowledge. It therefore serves as a test, by 
 which the Art or Pi-actice of Education may be tried. 
 All practices which are not in accordance with the 
 natural action of the mind in acquiring knowledge for 
 itself are condemned by the theory of Education, and in 
 this predicament is cramming, which consists in forcing 
 into the mind of the learner the products of other peo- 
 ple's thought. Such products are formulae, rules, general 
 abstract propositions, definitions, classifications, tech- 
 nical terms, common words even, when they are not the 
 signs of ideas gained at first-hand by his own observa- 
 tion and perception. The Science of Education recog 
 nizes all these kinds of knowledge as necessary to the 
 formation of the mind; hut relegates them to their 
 proper place in the course of instruction, and determines 
 that that place is subsequent not antecedent to the 
 action of the learner's mind on the facts which serve as 
 their groundwork. Facts, then, things, material ob- 
 jects, natural phenomena; physical facts, facts of lan- 
 guage, facts of nature, are the true, the all-sufficient 
 pabulum for the youthful mind, and the careful study 
 and investigation of them at first-hand, through his own 
 observation and experiment are to constitute his earliest 
 initiation in the art of learning. After this initiatory 
 practice, which involves analysis and disintegration, 
 come, as the natural sequence, the processes of recon- 
 struction and classification of the elements obtained,
 
 METHOD 01* THE TRUE TEACHER. 2 05 
 
 induction, framing of definitions, building up of rules, 
 generalization of particulars, construction of formulae, 
 application of technical terras, in all which processes the 
 art of the teacher as a director of the learner's intellect- 
 ual efforts is manifestly called into exercise; and the 
 need of his own experimental knowledge of the pro- 
 cesses he has to direct is too obvious to require to be 
 insisted on. 
 
 The comprehensive principle here enunciated, which 
 regards even the learning by rote of the multiplication 
 table and Latin declensions, antecedently to some pre- 
 liminary dealing with the facts of Latin and the facts of 
 number, as of the essence of cramming, will be theoreti- 
 cally received or rejected by teachers, just in propor- 
 tion as they receive or reject the conception of an art of 
 teaching founded on intellectual principles. It is ob- 
 vious enough that cramming knowledge into the memory 
 without regard to its fitness for mental digestion, if an 
 art at ail, is an art of a very low order, and has little in 
 common with that which consists in a conscious appre- 
 ciation of the means whereby the mind is awakened to 
 activity, and its energies trained to independent power. 
 The teacher, in fact, in the one case is an artist, scien- 
 tifically working out his design in accordance with the 
 principles of hia art, and ready to apply all its resources 
 to the emergencies of practice; in the other case, he is 
 an artisan empirically working by rule-of-thumb, un- 
 furnished with principles of action, and succeeding, 
 when he succeeds at all, through the happy accident 
 that the pupil's own intellectual activity practically de- 
 feats the natural tendency of the teacher's mechanical 
 drill.
 
 206 IMPORTANCK OF TRAINING. 
 
 I do not, however, by any means ))retendto assert that 
 every teacher who declines to accept this notion of 
 teaching as an art, is an artisan. It often happens that 
 a man works on a theory which he does not consciously 
 appreciate, and in his actual practice obviates the ob- 
 jection which might be taken against some of his pro- 
 cesses. Hence we find teachers, while denouncing such 
 expressions as " development and cultivation of the in- 
 telligence " as "frothy,"* doing practically all they can 
 to develop and cultivate the intelligence of their pupils. 
 Such teachers do indeed violently drive " the goat " 
 into the stomach of their pupils, but when they have 
 got it there take great pains to have it digested in some 
 fashion or other. I believe that the process would be 
 much facilitated by their knowing something of the 
 physiology of digestion, but I do not therefore designate 
 such practitioners as artisans. At the same time I do 
 not call them artists, for their procedure violates nature, 
 and true art never does that. The epithet artisan may 
 however be restricted to those — and their number is 
 legion — whose practice consists of cramming pur et 
 simple. 
 
 On the whole, then, I contend that if we could ex- 
 amine the entire practice of those teachers who actually 
 succeed in endowing the large majority — not a select 
 few — of their pupils with sound and systematic knowl- 
 edge, and with well-informed minds, we should find 
 that, whatever be their theoretic notions, they have 
 worked on the principles on which I have been all along 
 
 * See a letter in the "Educational Times," for December, 1872, from 
 the Rev. E. Boden, Head Master of the Clitheroe Royal Grammar 
 School.
 
 ARTISTS AND ARTISANS. 207 
 
 insisting. They have sncceedod by the «ilevelopment 
 and cultivation of the intelligence of their pupils, and 
 by nothing else, and they have succeeded just in pro- 
 portion as they have consciously kept this object in 
 view. Let us hear what Dean Stanley tells us of Arnold's 
 teaching. "Arnold's whole method was founded on the 
 principle of awakening the intelligence of every indi- 
 vidual boy. Hence it was his practice to teach, not, as 
 you perceive, by downpouring, but by questioning. As 
 a general rule he never gave information except as a 
 reward for an answer, and often withheld it altogether, 
 or checked himself in the very act of uttering it, from a 
 sense that those whom he was addressing had not suf- 
 ficient interest or sympathy to entitle them to receive 
 it. His explanations were as short as possible, enough 
 to dispose of the difficulty and no more, and his ques- 
 tions were of a kind to call the attention of the boys to 
 the real point of every subject, to disclose to them the 
 exact boundaries of what they knew and did not know, 
 and to cultivate a habit not only of collecting facts, but 
 of expressing themselves with facility, and of under- 
 standing the principles on which these facts rested." 
 Such was Arnold's method of teaching; and it is obvious 
 that, mutatis mutandis, modified somewhat so as to apply 
 to the earliest elementary instruction, it involves all the 
 principles which 1 have contended for, as constituting 
 the true art of teaching. The boys were, in fact, teach- 
 ing themselves under the direction of the teacher with- 
 out, or with the slightest, explanation on his part. They 
 were using all their minds on tiie subject, and gaining in- 
 dependent power. Arnold, to use a famous French teach- 
 er's expression, was "laboring to render himself useless."
 
 208 IMPORTANCE OF TRAINING. 
 
 But I must draw these remarks to a conclusion. It is 
 hardly necessary for me to state formally the principips 
 for which I have been all along arguing. 
 
 The upshot is this — Teaching is not a blind routine 
 but an art, which has a definite end in view. An art 
 implies an artist who works by systematic rules. The 
 processes and rules of art explicitly or implicitly evolve 
 the principles involved in science. The art or practice 
 of education, therefore, is founded on the science or 
 theory of education, while the science of education is 
 itself founded on the science of mind or psychology. 
 The complete equipment and training of the teacher for 
 his profession comprehends therefore: — 
 
 (a) A knowledge of the subject of instruction. 
 
 (b) A knowledge of the nature of the beiiig to be in- 
 structed. 
 
 (c) A knowledge of the best methods of instruction. 
 
 This knowledge gained by careful study and con- 
 joined with practice, constitutes the training of the 
 teacher.
 
 IMPORTANCE OF TRAINING OF TEACHERS, 
 ANALYSIS, 
 
 I. Teaching is not as yet a " Profession. " 1 89 
 
 1. No positive attainments demanded 189 
 
 2. No training 190 
 
 3. No authoritative credentials _.. ...: ..190 
 
 II. Results of its Non- Professional clmracter. 
 
 1. Sought by the incompetent as a "genteel" avocation. 190 
 («) Impossible in medicine, law, etc ..191 
 
 2. Even the naturally gifted would profit by training.. 192 
 
 3. To teach without training is quackery.. 193 
 
 III. Arguments urged against Training. 193 
 
 1. That it is unnecessary for primary teaching 193 
 
 (a) But it is necessary in every department. .193 
 
 ip) And even more important in the first stages 194 
 
 a Good teaching involves mental training 194 
 
 /i It imparts pleasure to learning 195 
 
 (c) The most learned teachers put into this depart- 
 ment 196 
 
 {d) The child's education not begun at school ...196 
 
 a Nature's teaching to be understood and followed-197 
 /i Children often dull from lack of this 197 
 
 2. That " Inward Impulse" is warrant to teach 197 
 
 {a) Parents not competent to judge teachers,. 198 
 
 {b) Damage to children during the experiment 198 
 
 (c) Applicable to no other skilled occupation ...198 
 
 3. That he who knows can teach 199 
 
 (a) The problem is to get the pupil to learu -..199 
 
 a To have learned is to have gone through the 
 
 process - ...199 
 
 H 209 '
 
 210 IMPORTANCE OF TRAINING. 
 
 (i But this must have been conscious to be 
 
 helpful. --.. 200 
 
 y Teaching has its own laws 200 
 
 (6) Knowledge may impede teaching by its extent.. -200 
 
 a Teacher on the heights, pupils in the plain .200 
 
 ft Teacher has forgotten how hard it is to learn.. .200 
 IV. Teaching as it is, and as it should be 201 
 
 1. Teaching contrasted with cramming 201 
 
 {a) The boa and the undigested goat 202 
 
 {b) How the true teacher proceeds 203 
 
 a He forms a just conception of education 203 
 
 ft He studies the proper means to be employed 203 
 
 y He tests his science by psychology 204 
 
 (c) Distinction between artist and artisan 205 
 
 a Not all untrained teachers artisans — 206 
 
 ft But all crammers eminently so 206 
 
 2. All good teachers have worked on these principles. .207 
 (a) Thomas Arnold's teaching 207 
 
 V. Concluding Summary. 
 
 The training of the teacher includes: 
 
 1. Knowledge of the subject 208 
 
 2. Knowledge of the pupil 208 
 
 3. Knowledge of the best methods ..J.20§
 
 THE TRUE FOUNDATION OF SCIENCE- 
 TEACHING.* 
 
 It is almost a truism to say, that the foundation of a 
 building is its most important feature. If the founda- 
 tion be either hisecure in itself, or laid without regard 
 to the plan of the superstructure, the building as a 
 whole will be found wanting both in unity and strength. 
 A building is in fact the embodiment and realization of 
 an idea conceived in the mind of the architect, and if he 
 is competent for his post, and. can secure the needful 
 co-operation, the practical expression will symmetrically 
 correspond to the conception. But unless the founda- 
 tion is solidly laid, and all the parts of the building are 
 constructed with relation to it, his aesthetic and theoretic 
 skill will go for little or nothing. His work is doomed 
 to failure from the beginning, and the extent of the fail- 
 ure will be proportionate to the ambition of the design. 
 These remarks are applicable to the art of building gen- 
 erally, whether shown in large and imposing structures, 
 or in the meanest cottages. In no case can the essential 
 elements of unity and strength be dispensed with. 
 
 In these preliminary observations I have foreshadowed 
 the subject with which I have to deal — that of Science- 
 teaching — whether carried on under ihe direction of a 
 Science and Art Department, or in the smallest class of 
 a private school; and nay purpose is to ascertain how 
 
 * Delivered at the College of Preceptors, on the ilth Dec, 1872. 
 
 211
 
 212 TRUE FOUNDATION OF SCIENCE-TEACHING. 
 
 far the ideal of theorj' is realized in the general prac- 
 tice. 
 
 Whatever might have been said of the neglect of 
 what is called " science " in former times, we cannot 
 make the same complaint now. A ringing chorus of 
 voices may be heard vociferously demanding science tor 
 the children of primary, secondary, and public schools; 
 for the Universities; in short, for all classes of society. 
 "Science," it is said, "is the grand desideratum of our 
 age, the true mark of our civilization. We want sci- 
 ence to supply a mental discipline unfurnished by the 
 old-esiablished curriculum; we want it as the basis of 
 the technical instruction of our workmen." 
 
 In answer to this universal demand we see something 
 called Science-teaching finding its way into primary, and 
 even into public schools, in spite of the declaration of 
 an eminent Head -master, not longer back than 1863, 
 that instruction in physical science, in the way in which 
 it could be given in Winchester School, was " worth- 
 less; " that a "scientific fact was a fact which produced 
 nothing in a boy's mind;" and that this kind of instruc- 
 tion "gave no power whatever." We further see this 
 something, called Science, stimulated by grants and 
 prizes, through the vast machinery of the Science and 
 Art Department; and lastly we have, at this moment, a 
 Royal Commission of eminent scientific men, taking 
 evidence and furnishing Reports on " Scientific In- 
 struction and theAdvancement of Science." Who, after 
 this, will be bold enough to say that Science is not look- 
 ing up in the knowledge-market ? 
 
 But amidst all the clamor of voices demanding in- 
 struction in Science, we listen in vain for the authorita-
 
 WHAT IIS MEANT BY SCIKNCE. 213 
 
 tive voice — the voice of tlie master artist — which shall 
 define for us the aims and ends of Science, and lay down 
 the laws of that teachino- by which they are to be 
 effectively secured. As things go, every teacher is left 
 to frame his own theory of Science-teaching, and his 
 own empirical method of carrying it out; and the result 
 is, to apply our illustration, that the fabric of Science- 
 teaching now rising before us rests upon no recognized 
 and established foundation, exhibits no principle of liar- 
 monious design, and that its various stages have scarcely 
 any relation to each other, and least of all to any solidly 
 com pacted ground -pi an. 
 
 The first question for ccmsideration is, " What is 
 meant by Science?" The shortest answer that can be 
 given is, that " Science is organized knowledge." This 
 is, however, too general for our present purpose, which 
 is, to deal with Physical Science. In a somewhat de- 
 veloped form, then, physical science is an organized 
 knowle<lge of material, concrete, objective facts or phe- 
 nomena. Tlie term " organized," it will be seen, is the 
 essence of the definition, inasmuch as it connotes or 
 implies that certain objective relations subsisting in the 
 nature of things, between facts or phenomena, are sub- 
 jectively appreciated by the mind — that is, that Science 
 differs from mere knowledge by being a knowledge both 
 of facts, and of their relations to each other. The mere 
 random, haphazard accumulation of facts, then, is not 
 Science; but the perception and conception of their 
 natural relations to each other, the comprehension of 
 these relations under general laws, and the organization 
 of facts and laws into one body, the parts of which are 
 seen to be subservient to each other, is Science.
 
 214 TRUE FOUNDATION OF SCIENCE-TEACHING. 
 
 Returning- to the other factor of the definition, 
 " Knowledge," we observe that there are two kinds of 
 knowledge — what we know through our own experi- 
 ence, and what we know through the experience of 
 others. Thus, I know by my own knowledge that I 
 have an audience before me, and I know through the 
 knowledge of others that the earth is 25,000 miles in 
 circumference. This latter fact, however, I know in a 
 sense different from that in which I know the former. 
 The one is a part of my experience, of my very being. 
 The other I can only be strictly said to know when I 
 have, by an effort of the mind, passed through the con- 
 nected chain of facts and reasonings on which the 
 demonstration is founded. Thus only can it become my 
 knowledge in the true sense of the term. 
 
 Strictly speaking, then, organized knowledge, or Sci- 
 ence, is originally based on unorganized knowledge, and 
 is the outcome of the learner's own observation of facts 
 through the exercise of his own senses, and his own re- 
 flection upon what he has observed. This knowledge, 
 T;ltimately organized into Science through the operation 
 of his mind, he may with just right call his own; and, 
 as a learner, he can properly call no other knowledge 
 his own. What is reported to us by another is that 
 other's, if gained at first-hand by experience; but it 
 stands on a different footing from that which we have 
 gained by our own experience. He merely hands it 
 over to us; but when we receive it, its condition is 
 already changed. It wants the brightness, definiteness, 
 and certainty in our eyes, which it had in his; and, 
 moreover, it is merely a loan, and not our property. 
 The fact, for instance, about the earth's circumference
 
 WHAT IS MEANT BY SCIENCE. 215 
 
 was to him a living fact; it sprang into being as the 
 outcome of experiments and reasonings, with the entire 
 chain of wliich it was seen by him to be intimately — 
 indeed indissolubly and organically connected. To us 
 it is a dead fact, severed from its connection with the 
 body of truth, and, by our hypothesis, having no 
 organic relation to the living truths we have gained by 
 our own minds. These are convertible into our Science; 
 that is noi. What I insist on then is, that the knowl- 
 edge from experience — that which is gained by bringing 
 our own minds into direct contact with matter — is the 
 only knowledge that as novices in science we have to 
 do with. The dogmatic knowledge imposed on us by 
 authority, though originally gained by the same means, 
 is, really, not ours, but another's — is, as far as we are 
 concerned, unorganizable; and therefore, though Science 
 to its proprietor, is not Science to us. To us it is 
 merely information, or haphazard knowledge. 
 
 The conclusions, then, at which we arrive, are — (1) 
 That the true foundation of physical Science lies in the 
 knowledge of physical facts gained at first-hand by ob- 
 servation and experiment, to be made by the learner 
 himself; (2) that all knowledge not thus gained is, pro 
 tanto, unorganizable, and not suited to his actual condi- 
 tion; and (3) that his facts become organized into 
 Science by the operation of his own mind upon them. 
 
 Having given some idea of what is meant by Science, 
 and how it grows up in the mind of the learner, I turn 
 now to the teacher, and briefly inquire what is his func- 
 tion in the process of Science-teaching. 
 
 I have elsewhere* endeavored to expound the correla- 
 * See " Theories of Teaching," witii the correspoucling Practice.
 
 216 TRUE FOUXDATIOX OF SCIENCE-TEACHING. 
 
 tion of learning unci teaching, and to show that the nat- 
 ural ])roce'!S of investigation by wliich the unassisted 
 student — unassisted, that is by book or teacher, — would 
 seek, as a first discoverer, to gain an accurate knowl- 
 edge of facts and their interpretation, suggests to us 
 both the nature and scope of the teacher's, and espe- 
 cially the Science-teacher's, functions. According to this 
 view of the subject, the learner's method, and the teach- 
 er's, serve as a mutual limit to each other. The learner 
 is a discoverer or investigator engaged in interrogating 
 the concrete matter before him, with a view to ascertain 
 its nature and properties: and the teacher is a sui)erin- 
 tendent or director of the learner's process; poiniing out 
 the problem to be solved, concentrating the learner's 
 attention upon it, varying the points of view suggesting 
 experiments, inquiring what they result in; converting 
 even errors and mistakes into means of increased power, 
 bringing back the old to interpret the new, the known 
 to interpret the unknown, recpiiring an exact record of 
 results arrived at— in short, exercising all the powers of 
 the learner's mind upon the matter in hand, in order to 
 make him an accurate observer and experimenter, and 
 to train him in the method of investigation. 
 
 The teacher, then, is to be governed in his teaching, 
 not by independent notions of his own, iutt by consid- 
 erations inherent in the natural process by which the 
 pupil learns. He is not, therefore, at libei'ty to ignore 
 this natural process, which essentially involves the ob- 
 servation, experiment, and reflection of the pupil; nor 
 to supersede it by intruding the results of the observa- 
 tion, experiment, and reflection of others.- He is, on the 
 contrary, bound to recognize these operations of his pu-
 
 S'UISrCTION OF THE TKACIIEK. 217 
 
 pil^s mincl as the true foundation of the Science-teaching which 
 he professes to carry out. In other wonls, the process 
 of the learner is the true foundation of that of the 
 teacher. 
 
 This sketcli wonldbe sufficient were it merely my ob- 
 ject to present a theory. But as I am seriously in earn- 
 est, and wish to see the claims of Science vindicated, 
 and the teaching of its facts, pnnciples, and laws placed 
 on a totally different ground froin that which it now 
 generally occupies, 1 must pursue the subject further. 
 
 It will have been observed, that I lay great stress on 
 teaching Science in such a way that it shall become a 
 real training of the student in the method of Science, 
 with a view to the forming of the scientific mind. Ac- 
 cording to the usual methods of science-teaching, it is 
 quite possible for a student to "get u])," by cramming, 
 a number of books on scientific subjects, to attend lect- 
 ure after lecture on the same subjects, to be drenched 
 with endless explanations and comments on descriptions 
 of experiments performed by others, to lodge in his 
 memory the technical results of investigations in which 
 he has taken no part himself, together with formulae, 
 rules, and definitions ad infinitum, and yet, after all, never 
 to have even caught a glimpse of the idea involved in 
 investigation, or to have been for a moment animated 
 by the spirit of the scientific exploi-er. That spirit is a 
 spirit of power, which, not content with the achieve- 
 ments gained by others, seeks to make conquests of its 
 own, and therefore examines, explores, discovers, and 
 invents for itself. These are the manifestations of the 
 spirit of investigation, and that spirit may he excited by 
 the true Science-teacher in the heart of a little child. 1
 
 218 TRUE JFOtTNDATION OF SCIENCE-TEACHING. 
 
 may refer, for proof of this assertion, to the teacliing of 
 botauy to poor village children by the late Professor Hen- 
 slow; to the teaching of general Science by the late Dean 
 Dawes to a similar class of children; to that pursued at 
 the present time at the Bristol Trade School ; and to the 
 invaluable lessons given to the imaginary Harry and 
 Lucy by Miss Edgeworth. Without warranting every 
 process adopted by these eminently successful teachers, 
 some of whom were peihaps a little too much addicted 
 to explaining, I have no hestation in declaring that they 
 one and all acted mainly on the p]-inciple that true 
 Science-teaching consists in bringing the pupil's mind 
 into direct contact with facts — in getting him to inves- 
 tigate, discover, and invent for himself. The same 
 method is recommended in Miss Youman's philosophical 
 Essay "On the Culture of the Observing powers of chil- 
 dren,"* and rigorously applied in her " First Lessons on 
 Botany; " and in the Supplement to that little volume f I 
 have given, as iis editor, a tyjjical lesson on the pile-driv- 
 ing engine, which illustrates the following principles: — 
 
 1. That the pupils throughout the lesson, are learning 
 — i. e., teaching themselves, by the exercise of their own 
 minds, without, and not by, the explanations of the 
 teacher. 
 
 2. That the pupils gain their knowledge from the 
 object itself, not from a description of the object fur- 
 nished by another. 
 
 3. That the observations and experiments are their 
 own observations and experiments, made by their own 
 
 * " All Essay on the Culture of the Observing Powers of Children, es- 
 pecially in connection with the Study of IJotany. By Eliza A. Youmans, 
 of New York, with Notes and a Supplement by Joseph Payne." 
 
 t See also page 95 of this volume.
 
 KNOWLEDGE AT FIRST-HAND. 219 
 
 senses and by their own hands, as investigators seeking 
 to ascertain for themselves what the object before them 
 is, and what it is capable of doing. 
 
 4. That the teacher recognizes his proper function as 
 that of a guide or director of the pupil's process of self- 
 teaching, which he aids by moral means, but does not 
 supersede by the intervention of his own knowledge. 
 
 These hints all tend to show what is really meant by 
 Science-teaching, as generally distinguished from other 
 teaching. 
 
 In case, howevei*, my competency to give an opinion 
 on Science-teaching should be questioned, I beg to en- 
 force my views by the authority of Professor Huxley, 
 who, in a lecture on "Scientific Education," thus ex- 
 presses himself : — "If scientitic training is to yield its 
 most eminent results, it must be made practical — that is 
 to say, in explaining to a child the general phenomena 
 of nature, you must, as far as possible, give reality to 
 your teaching by object-lessons. In teaching him bot- 
 any, he must handle the plants and dissect the flowers 
 for himself; in teaching him physics and chemistry, 
 you must not be solicitous to fill him with information, 
 but you must be careful that what he learns he knows 
 of his own knowledge. Do not be satisfied with telling 
 him that a magnet attracts iron. Let him see that it 
 does; let him feel the pull of the one upon the other for 
 himself. . . . Pursue this discipline carefully and 
 conscientiously, and you may make sure that, however 
 scanty may be the measure of information which you 
 have poured into the boy's mind, you have created an 
 intellectual habit of priceless value in practical life." 
 
 Again, in the same lecture, the Professor says, — " If
 
 220 TRUE FOUNDATION OF SCIENCE- TEACHING. 
 
 the great benefits of scientific training arc sought, it is 
 essential that such training should be real — that is to 
 say that the mind of the scholar should be brought into 
 direct relation with fact; that he should not merely be 
 told a thing, but made to see, by the use of his own 
 intellect and ability, that the thing is so, and not other- 
 wise. The great peculiarity of scientific training — that 
 in virtue of which it cannot be replaced by any other 
 discipline whatever — is this bringing of the mind directly 
 into contact with fact, and ])ractising tlie mind in the 
 completest form of induction — that is to say, in drawing 
 conclusions from jiarticuhir facts made known by imme- 
 diate observations of Nature." 
 
 To the same effect another eminent Science-teacher, 
 Mr. Wilson, of Kugby School, tlius expresses himself. 
 "Theory and experience," he says, "alike convince me 
 that the master who is teaching a class quite unfamiliar 
 with scientific method, ought to make his class teach 
 themselves, by thinking out the subject of the lecture 
 with them, taking up their suggestions and illustrations, 
 criticising them, hunting them down, and proving a 
 suggestion barren or an illustration inapt; starting them 
 on a fresh scent when they are at fault, reminding them 
 of some familiar fact they had overlooked, and so elicit- 
 ing out of the chaos of vague notions that are afloat on 
 the matter in hand, be it the laws of motion, the evap- 
 oration of water, or the origin of the drift, something of 
 order, concatenation, and interest, before the key to the 
 mystery is given, even if, at all, it has to be given. 
 'Training to think, not to be a mechanic or a surveyor, 
 'must be first and foremost as his object. So valuable 
 are the subjects intrinsically, and such excellent models
 
 OPINIONS OF EMINENT EDUCATORS, 221 
 
 do they provide, that the most stupid and didactic 
 teaching will not be useless; but it will not be the same 
 source of power that the method ot investigation will be 
 in the hands of a good master." 
 
 My last quotation will be from the very valuable lect- 
 ure given here by Dr. Kemshead, the able Science- 
 teacher of Dulwich C/ollege, on "The Importance of 
 Physical Science as a branch of English General Educa- 
 tion." Referring to education generally, he says, and 
 I entirely agree with him, — " I wish it particularly to be 
 borne in mind that, whenever I use the word education, 
 I use it in its highest ahd truest sense of .training and 
 developing the mind. I hold the acquisition of mere 
 useful knowledge, however important and valuable it 
 may be, to be entirely secondary and subsidiary. 1 con- 
 sider it to be of more value to teach the young mind 
 to think out one original problem, to draw one correct 
 conclusion for itself, than to have acquired the whole of 
 ' Mangnall's Questions ' or ' Brewer's Guide to Science.' " 
 There speaks the true teacher. But what does he say 
 on Scipuce-teaching? This: — "I wish particularly to 
 draw the distinction between mere scientific knowledge 
 and scientific training I do not believe in the former; 
 I do beheve in the latter. In physical and experimental 
 science, studied for the sake of training, the mode of 
 teaching is everything I know of one school [we shall 
 soon see that thei-e are many such] in which physical 
 science is made a strong point in ihe prospectus, where 
 chemistry is taught b}' reading a texl-book (a very anti- 
 quatpd one, since it only gives forty-five elements), but 
 in which the experiments are learnt by heart, and never 
 seen practically. Such a proceeding is a mere farce on
 
 222 TRUE FOUXDATIOX OF SCTEXCE-TEACHING. 
 
 Science." But Dr. Kemshead proceeds, — " Of course, 
 as mere useful knowledge, Lardner's hand-books, or any 
 other good text-books, might be committed to memory. 
 So long as the facts arc correct, and are put in a manner 
 that the pui)il can receive them, the end is gained; but 
 this is not scientific teaching — cramming if you like, but 
 not teaching. It will f am sure, be manifest to you all 
 that there is nothing of scientific training in this. To 
 develop scientific habits of thought — the scientific mind, 
 the teaching must be of a totally different nature. In 
 order to get the fullest benefit from a scientific educa- 
 tion, the teacher should endeavor to bring his jsupil face 
 to face with the great problems of Nature, as though 
 he were the first discoverer. He should encourage him 
 from the first to record accurately all his experiments, 
 the object be had in view in making them, the results 
 even when they have failed, and the inferences which he 
 draws in each case, with as much rigor and exactitude 
 as though they were to be published in the 'Philosophi- 
 cal Transactions.' He should, in fact, teach his pupil to 
 face the great problems of Nature as though they had 
 never been solved before." 
 
 "To face the great problems of nature as though they 
 had never been solved before " — " to bring the child 
 face to face with the great problems of Nature, as 
 though he Avere the first discoverer" — these weighty, 
 pregnant, and luminous expressions contain the essence 
 of the whole question I have endeavored to set before 
 you. They define, as you easily perceive, the attitude 
 of the pupil in regard to his subjective process of learn- 
 ing — the one being the counterpart of the other. 
 
 It will have been noticed, perhaps, that nothing has
 
 THE PROVINCE OF TEXT-BOOKS. 223 
 
 been said of text-l)ooks, which some consider as " the 
 true foundation of Science-teaching." The reason of 
 this omission Hes in the nature of things. The hooks of 
 a true student of physical Science are the associated 
 facts and ])lienomena of Nature. He finds them in " the 
 I'unning brooks," the raoimfcains, trees, and rocks; where- 
 ever, in short, he is brouglit face to face with facts and 
 phenomena; these are the pages, whose sentences, phras- 
 es, words, and letters he is to decipher and interpret by 
 his own investigation. The intervention of a text-book, 
 so-called, between the student and the matter he is to 
 stud}', is an impertinence. For what is such a text-book? 
 A compendium of observations and experiments made 
 by othei's in view of tliat very nature-book which, by the 
 hypothesis, he is to study at first hand for himself, and 
 of definitions, rules, generalizations, and classifications 
 which he is, through the active powers of his mind, to 
 make for himself. The student's own method of study 
 is the true method of Science. He is being gradually 
 initiated in the processes by which both knowledge, 
 truly his own, and the power of gaining more, are se- 
 cured. Why should we supersede and neutralize his en- 
 ergies, and altogether disorganize his plan by requiring 
 him to receive on aiithority the results of other people's 
 labors in the same field ? Again, a text-book on Science 
 is a logically constructed treatise, in wliich the proposi- 
 tions last arrived ac by the author are presented first— 
 in the reverse order to that followed by the method of 
 Science. The sufficient test of the use of books in Sci- 
 ence-teaching, is, in fact, this: Do they train the mind 
 to scientific method V If they do not — if on the con- 
 trary, they discountenance that method, — then they are
 
 224 TRUE FOUNDATION OF SCIENCE-TEACHING. 
 
 to be rejected in that elementary work — the foundation of 
 Science-teaching — with which alone we are here con- 
 cerned. Once raore, I appeal to Prof, Huxley, who tells 
 us that, " If Scientific education is to be dealt with as 
 mere book-work, it will be better not to attempt it, but to 
 stick to the Latin Grammar, which makes no pretense to 
 be anything but book-work." Again in his Lecture to 
 Teachers, — "But let me entreat you to remember my 
 last words. Mere book learning in physical Science is a 
 sham and a delusion. What you teach, unless you wish 
 to be impostors, that you must first know; and real 
 knowledge in Science means personal acquaintance with 
 the facts, be they few or many?" But I must add to 
 these authoritative words those of Dr. Acland, who, when 
 asked by the Public Schools Commission his opinion of 
 the London University Examinations in Physical Science, 
 thus replied: — "I may say, generally, that I should val- 
 ue all knowledge of these physical sciences very little 
 indeed unless it was otherwise than book-work If it is 
 merely a question of getting up certain books, and be- 
 ing able to answer certain book questions that is merely 
 an exercise of the memory of a very useless kind. The 
 great object, though not the sole object, of this training 
 should be to get the boys to observe and understand the 
 action of matter in some department or another . . . 
 I want them to see and know the things, and in that 
 way they will evoke many qualities of the mind, which 
 the study of these subjects is intended to develop." (vol. 
 iv. p. 407). These words sufficiently show both what 
 the true foundation is, and what it is not. Once more — 
 for the importance of this matter cmu hardly be too much 
 Insisted on — hear what Prof. Huxley says, in his evi-
 
 THE PROVINCE OP TEXT-BOOKS. 235 
 
 dence before the Commission on Scientific Instruction 
 (p. 23): — "The great blunder that our people make, I 
 think, is attempting to teach from books; our school- 
 masters have largely been taught from books and noth- 
 ing but books, and a great many of them understand 
 nothing but book teaching, as far as I can see. The 
 consequence is, that when they attempt to deal with 
 Scientific teaching, they make nothing of it. If you are 
 setting to work to teach a child Science, you must teach 
 it through its eyes, and its hands, and its senses." 
 
 I do not for a moment deny that much is to be gained 
 from the study of scientific text-books. It would be 
 absurd to do so. What I do deny is that the reading up 
 of books on Science — which is, strictly speaking, a literary 
 study — either is, or can possibly be, a training in scien- 
 tific method. To receive facts in Science on any other 
 authority than that of the facts themselves; to get up 
 the observations, experiments and comments of others, 
 instead ol observing, experimenting, and commenting 
 ourselves; to learn definititions, rules, abstract proposi- 
 tions, technicalities, before we personally deal with the 
 facts which lead up to them; all this, whether in literary 
 or scientific education — and especially in the latter— is 
 of the essence of cramming, and is therefore entirely 
 opposed to, and destructive of, true mental training and 
 discipline.
 
 TRUE FOUNDATIOH OF SCIENCE-TEACHING- 
 ANALYSIS, 
 
 I. Modern demand for Science- Teaching ...212 
 
 1. Rests upon no solid foundation 211, 213 
 
 II. What is meant by Science ? .213 
 
 1. Organized linowledge of concrete facts .213 
 
 (a) Not onlj' of facts, but of tlieir relations 213 
 
 (b) Knowledge by experience vs. that by report 214 
 
 (c) Novices have to do only with experience .-.. 215 
 
 (d) Science vs. information 215 
 
 2. Hence these conclusions: 
 
 (a) The foundation lies in knowledge at first hand.. _215 
 
 {b) All other knowledge unorgauizable 215 
 
 (c) These facts are organized by mental action 215 
 
 III. Ftt nction of the Teacher in Science- Teaching .216 
 
 1. The learner's and the teacher's rfnethods limit each 
 
 other __. -216 
 
 (o) The teacher to be governed by the pupil's 
 
 methods 217 
 
 IV. The Pupil's mind to be brought into contact loith Facts 217 
 
 1. Facts may be crammed without a glimpse of the 
 
 idea ....217 
 
 2. Even little children may have spirit of investigation. 218 
 (a) Proved by Prof. Henslow, Miss Edgeworth, etc. 218 
 
 3. Illustrated by lesson on pile-driver. .219 
 
 (a) Pupils learn without explanations 219 
 
 (b) They gain their knowledge from the object itself .219 
 
 (c) They are personal investigators 219 
 
 {d) The teacher is the guide and director 219 
 
 4. Confirmed by eminent educators 219 
 
 (a) Prof. Huxley ..219 
 
 226
 
 ANALYSIS. 227 
 
 (b) Mr. Wilson of Rugby School 220 
 
 (c) Dr. Kemshead, of Dulwich College 221 
 
 . The true text-books are the facts of nature 223 
 
 (a) Intervention of a book an impertinence 223 
 
 (b) Its metliod the opposite of investigation 223 
 
 (c) Book-learning in science a sham and delusion 224 
 
 (d) Opinions of eminent educators .224 
 
 (e) Reading text-books literary, not scientific 225
 
 PESTALOZZI; 
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF HIS PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE ON 
 ELEMENTARY EDUCATION.* 
 
 c 
 
 Familiar as Pestalozzi's name is to our ears, it will 
 hardly be pretended that he himself is well known 
 amongst us. His life and personal character — tiie work 
 he did himself, and that which he influenced others to 
 do — his successess and failures as a teacher, form alto- 
 gether a large subject, which requires, to do it justice, a 
 thoughtful and lengthened study. Parts of the subject 
 have been from time to time brought very prominently 
 before the public, but often in such a way as to throw 
 the rest into shadow, and hinder the appreciation of it 
 as a whole. Though this has been done without any 
 hostile intention, the general effect has been in England 
 to misrepresent, and therefore to under-estimate, a very 
 remarkable man — a man whose principles, slowly but 
 surely operating on the public opinion of Germany, have 
 sufficed, to use his own pithy expression, "to turn right 
 round the car of Education, and set it in a new direc- 
 tion." 
 
 One of the aspects in which he has been brought be- 
 fore us — and it deserves every consideration — is that of 
 an earnest, self-sacrificing, enthusiastic philanthropist,^ 
 endowed with what Kichter calls "an almighty love,'' 
 
 * A lecture delivered at the College of Preceptors, on the 20th Feb., 
 1875. 
 
 228
 
 f 
 
 PARTIAL VIKWS OF HIS OIIAHACTER. 229 
 
 whose first .'ind last tliouglit was how he mio-lit raise tlie 
 debased and suffering among his countrymen to a higher 
 level of happiness and knowledge, by bestowing upon 
 them tlie blessings of education. It is right that he 
 should be thus exhibited to the world, for never did any 
 man better deserve to be enrolled in the noble array of 
 martyrs who have died that others might live, tiian Pes- 
 taiozzi. To call hiin the Howard of educational philan. 
 thi-opists, is only doing scant justice to his devoted char- 
 acter, and under-estimates, rather than over-estimates, 
 the man. 
 
 Another aspect in which Pestalozzi is sometimes |)re- 
 sented to us, is that of an unhandy, unpractical, di-eamy 
 theorist; whose views were ever extending beyond the 
 compass of his control; who, like the djinn of the East- 
 ern story, called into being forces which mastered in- 
 stead of obeying him; whose "unrivalled incapacity for 
 governing" (this is his own confession) made him the 
 victim of circumstances; who was utterly wanting in 
 worldly wisdom; who, knowing man, did not know men; 
 and who, therefore, is to be set down as one who prom- 
 ised much more than he performed. It is impossible to 
 deny that there is substantial truth in such a representa- 
 tion; but this only increases the wonder that, in spite of 
 his disqualifications, he accomplished so much. It is 
 still true that his awakening voice, calling for reform in 
 education, was responded to by hundreds of earnest and 
 intelligent men, who placed themselves under his ban- 
 ner, and were proud to follow whither the Luther of 
 educational reform wished to lead them. 
 
 A third view of Pestalozzi presents him to us as 
 merely interested about elementary education — and this
 
 230 PESTALOZZI. 
 
 appears to many who are engaged in teaching what are 
 called higher subjects, a matter in which they have little 
 or no concern. Those, however, who thus look down on 
 Pestalozzi's work, only show, by their indifference, a 
 profound want, both of self-knowledge, and of a knowl- 
 edge of his principles and purpose. Elementary educa- 
 tion, in the sense in which Pestalozzi understands it, is, 
 or ought to be, the concern of every teacher, whatever 
 be his especial subject, and whatever the age of his pu- 
 pils; and when he sees that elementary education is 
 only another expression for the forming of the character 
 and mind of the child, he must acknowledge that this 
 object comes properly within the sphere of his labors, 
 and deserves, on every ground, his thoughtful atten- 
 tion. 
 
 In spite, then, of Pestalozzi's patent disqualificationis 
 in many respects for the task he undertook; in spite of 
 his ignorance of even common subjects (for he spoke, 
 read, wrote, and ciphered badly, and knew next to 
 nothing of classics or science); in spite of his want of 
 woi'ldly wisdom, of any comprehensive and exact knowl- 
 edge of men and of things; in spite of his being merely 
 an elementary teacher, — through the force of his all- 
 conquering love, the nobility of his heart, the resistless 
 energy of his enthusiasm, his firm grasp of a few first 
 principles, his eloquent exposition of them in words, 
 his resolute manifestation of them in deeds, — he stands 
 forth among educational reformers as the man whose 
 influence on education is wider, deeper, more penetrat- 
 ing, than that of all the rest — the prophet and the sov- 
 ereign of the domain in which he lived and labored. 
 
 The fact that, with such disqualifications and draw-
 
 / 
 
 HIS PERSONAL DISADVANTAGES. 231 
 
 backs, he has attained such a position, supersedes any 
 argument for our giving earnest heed to what he was 
 and what he did. It is a fact pregnant in suggestions, 
 and to the consideration of them this Lecture is to be 
 devoted. 
 
 It was late in life — he was fifty-two years of age — 
 before Pestalozzi became a practical schoolmaster. He 
 had even begun to despair of ever finding the career in 
 which he might attempt to realize the theories over 
 which his loving heart and teeming brain had been 
 brooding from his earliest youth. He feared that he 
 should die, without reducing the ideal of his thought to 
 the real of action.* 
 
 Besides the advanced age at which Pestalozzi began 
 his work, there was another disability in his case to 
 which I have not referred. This was, that not only had 
 he had no experience of school work, but he knew no emi- 
 nent teacher whose example might have stimulated him 
 to imitation; and he was entirely ignorant (with one 
 notable exception) of all writings on the theory and 
 practice of education. The exception I refer to is the 
 Emile of Rousseau, a remarkably suggestive book, which 
 made, as was to be expected, a strong impression on his 
 mind. We know from his own account, that he had 
 already endeavored, with indifferent success, to make 
 his own son another Emile. The diary in which he has 
 
 * See the particulars of Pestalozzi's life, in Mr. Quick's admirable Essays 
 on Educational Reformers ; iu PesiaZ;>22i, edited for the Home and Colo- 
 nial Society, by Mr. Dunning, in Von Raumer's History of Education ; in 
 Roger de Guimps' Histoire de Pestalozzi, de sa Pensee, et dc son (Euvre, 
 Lausanne, 1874; in the Life and ivork of Pestalozzi, by Hermann Krusi, 
 New York, 1875; and in various treatises by Mr. Henry Barnard, formerly 
 Commissioner of Education, Washington.
 
 232 PESTALOZZI. 
 
 recorded day by day the particulars of his experinu'nt is 
 extremely interesting and instructive. 
 
 At fifty-two years of age, then, we find Pestalozzi 
 utterly unacquainted with the science and the art of 
 education, and very scantily furnished even with ele- 
 mentary knowledge, undertaking at Stanz, in the canton 
 of Unterwalden, the charge of eightycliildren, whom 
 the events of war had rendered homeless and destitute. 
 Here he was at last in the position Avhich, during years 
 of sorrow and disappointment, he had eagerly desired to 
 fill. He was now brought into immediate contact with 
 ignorance, vice, and brutality, and had the opportiinity 
 for testing the power of his long-cherished theories. 
 The man whose absorbing idea had been that the 
 ennobling of the people, even of the lowest class, 
 through education, was no mere dream, was now, in the 
 midst of extraordinary diflSculties, to struggle with the 
 solution of the problem. And surely if any man con- 
 sciously possessing strength to fight, and only desiring 
 to be brought face to face with his adversary, ever had 
 his utmost wishes granted, it was Pestalozzi at Stanz. 
 Let us try for a moment to realize the circumstances — 
 the forces of the enemy on the one side, the single arm 
 on the other, and the field oi the combat. The house in 
 which the eighty children were assembled, to be boarded, 
 lodged, and taught, was an old tumble-down Ursuline 
 convent, scarcely habitable, and destitute of all the con- 
 veniences of life. The only apartment suitable for a 
 schoolroom was about twenty-four feet square, furnished 
 with a few desks and forms; and into this were crowded 
 the wretched children, noisy, dirty, diseased, and igno- 
 rant, with the manners and habits of barbarians. Pes-
 
 HIS WORK AT STANZ. 233 
 
 talozzi's only iielper in the management of the institu- 
 tion was an old woman, who cooked the food and swept 
 the rooms; so that he was, as he tells us himself, not 
 only the teacher, but the paymaster, the man-servant, 
 and almost the house-maid of the chihlren. 
 
 Here, then, we see Pestalozzi surrounded by a "sea 
 of troubles," against which he had not only " to take 
 arms," but to forge the arms himself. And what was 
 the single weapon on which he relied for conquest? 
 It was his own loving heart. Hear his words: — "My 
 wishes were now accomplished. 1 felt convinced that 
 I my heart would change the condition of my children as 
 speedily as the springtide sun reanimates the earth 
 frozen by the winter." "Nor," he adds, " was I mis- 
 taken. Before the springtide sun melted away the snow 
 from our mountains, you could no longer recognize the 
 same children." 
 
 But how^ was this wondeful transformation eifected? 
 What do Pestalozzi's words really mean ? Let us pause 
 for a moment to consider them. Here is a man who, in 
 presence of ignorance, obstinacy, dirt, brutality, and 
 vice — enemies that will destroy him unless he can des- 
 troy <Aew— opposes to them the unresistible might of 
 weakness, or what appears such, and fights them with 
 his heart/ 
 
 Let ail teachers ponder over the fact, and remember 
 that this weapon," too frequently forgotten, and there- 
 fore unforged in our trainmg colleges, is an indispensible 
 requisite to their equipment. Wanting this, all the para- 
 phernalia of literary certificates — even tlie diplomas of 
 the College of Preceptors — will be unavailing. With it, 
 the teacher, poorly furnished in other respects (think of
 
 234 PESTALOZZI. 
 
 Pestalozzi's literary qualifications ! ), may work wonders, 
 compared with which the so-called magician's are mere 
 child's play. The t[rst lesson, then, that we learn from 
 Pestalozzi is, that the teacher must have a heart — an ap- 
 parently simple but really profound discovery, to which 
 we cannot attach too much importance. 
 
 But Pestalozzi's own heart was not merely a statical 
 heart — a heart furnished with capabilities for action, but 
 not acting; it was a dynamical heart — a heart which was 
 constantly at work, and vitalized the system. Let us 
 see how it worked. 
 
 " I was obliged," he says, " unceasingly to be every- 
 thing to my children. I was alone with them from morn- 
 ing to night. It was from my hand that they received 
 wiiatever could be of service both to their bodies and 
 minds. All succor, all consolation, all instruction came to 
 them immediately from myself. Their hands were in my 
 hand; my eyes were fixed on theirs, my tears mingled 
 with theirs, my smiles encountered theirs, my soup was 
 their soup, my drink was their drink. I had around me 
 neither family, friends, nor servants; I had only them. I 
 was with them when they were in health, by their side 
 when they were ill. I slept in their midst. I was the last 
 to go to bed, the first to rise in the morning. When we 
 were in bed, I used to pray with them and talk to them 
 till they went to sleep. They wished me to do so." 
 
 This active, practical, self sacrificing love, beaming 
 on the frozen hearts of the children, by degrees melted 
 and animated them. But it was only by degrees. Pes- 
 talozzi was at first disappointed. He had expected too 
 much, and had formed no plan of action. lie even rath- 
 er prided himself upon his want of plan.
 
 HIS THEORY OF MORAL EDUCATION. 235 
 
 "I knew," lie says, "no system, no method, no art 
 but that which rested on the simple consequences of the 
 firm belief of the children in my love towards them. I 
 wished to know no other." 
 
 Before long, however, he began to see that the re- 
 sponse which the movement of his heart towards theirs 
 called forth was rather a response of his personal efforts, 
 than one dictated by their own will and conscience. It 
 excited action, but not spontaneous, independent action, 
 Tliis did not satisfy him. He wished to make them act 
 from strictly moral motives. 
 
 Gradually, then, Pestalozzi advanced to the main 
 principles of his system of moral education — that virtue, 
 to be worth anything, must be practical; that it must 
 consist not merely in knowing what is right, but in do- 
 ing it; that even knowing what is right does- not come 
 from the exposition of dogmatic precepts, but from the 
 convictions of the conscience; and that, therefore, both 
 knowing and doing rest ultimately on the enlightenment 
 of the conscience through the exercise of the intellect. 
 
 He endeavored, in the first place, to awaken the moral 
 sense — to make the children conscious of their moral 
 powers, and to accomplish his object, not by preaching 
 to them, though he sometimes did this, but by calling 
 these powers into exercise. He gave them, as he tells 
 us, few explanations. He taught them dogmatically 
 neither morality nor religion. He wished them to be 
 both moral and religious; but he conceived that it was 
 not possible to make them so by verbal precept, by word 
 of command, nor by forcing them to commit to memory 
 formularies which did not represent their own convic- 
 tions. He did not wish them to say they believed, be- 
 
 ^
 
 236 PESTALOZZI. 
 
 fore they believed. He appealed to what was divine in 
 their hearts, implanted there by the Supreme Creator; 
 and having brought it out into consciousness, called on 
 them to exhibit it in action. " When," he says, "the 
 children were perfectly still, so that you might hear a 
 pin drop, I said to them, ' Don't you feel yourselves 
 more reasonable and more happy now than when you are 
 making a disorderly noise ?" When they clung round 
 ray neck and called me their father, I would say, ' Chil- 
 dren, could you deceive your father ? Could you, after 
 embracing me thus, do behind ray back what you know 
 I disapprove of ?' And when we were speaking about 
 the misery of our country, and they felt the happiness 
 of their own lot, I used to say, ' How good God is, to 
 make the heart of man pitiful and compassionate.' " At 
 other times, after telling them of the desolation of some 
 family in the neighborhood, he would ask them whether 
 they were willing to sacrifice a portion of their own 
 food to feed the starving children of that family ? 
 
 These instances will suffice to show generally what 
 Pestalozzi meant by moral education, and how he oper- 
 ated on the hearts and consciences of the children. We 
 see that, instead of feeding their imagination with pict- 
 ures of virtue beyond and above their sphere, he called 
 on them to exercise those within their reach. He knew 
 what their ordinary family life had been, and he wished 
 to prepare them for something better and nobler; but 
 he felt that this could only be accomplished by making 
 them, while members of his family, consciously appre- 
 ciate what was right and desire to do it. 
 
 Here then, in moral and, as we shall presently see, in 
 intellectual education, Pestalozzi proceeded from the 
 
 ;-*
 
 FROM THE CONCRETE TO THE AHSTRACT. 23Y 
 
 near, the practical, the actual — to the remote, the ab- 
 stract, the ideal. It was on the foundation of what the 
 children were, and could become, iji the sphere they 
 occupied, that he built up their moral education. 
 
 But he conceived — and, I think, justly — that their 
 intellectual training was to be looked on as part of their M- 
 raoral training. Whatever increases our knowledge of 
 things as they are, leads to the appreciation of tlie 
 truth; for truth, in the widest sense of the terra, is this 
 knowledge. But the acquisition of knowledge, as re- 
 quiring mental effort, and therefore exercising the active 
 powers, necessarily increases the capacity to form judg- 
 ments on moral questions; so, that, in proportion as you" 
 cultivate the will, the affections, and the conscience, 
 with a view to independent action, you must cultivate 
 the intellect, which is to impose the proper limits on that 
 in<lependence; and on the other hand, in proportion as 
 you cultivate the intellect, you must train the moral 
 powers which are to carry its decisions into effect. 
 Moral and intellectual education must consequently, in 
 the formation of the human being, proceed together, 
 the one stimulating and maintaining the action of the 
 other. Pestalozzi, therefore, instructed as well as edu- 
 cated; and indeed educated by means of instruction. 
 In carrying out this object, he adopted the general prin- 
 ciple I before stated. He proceeded from the near, the 
 practical, the actual, to the remote, the abstract, and 
 the ideal. 
 
 We shall see his theoretical views on this point in a 
 few quotations from a work which he wrote some years 
 before, entitled " The Evening Hour of a Hermit^ He 
 says: —
 
 238 PESTALOZZI. 
 
 " Nature develops all the human faculties by practice, and 
 their growth depends on their exercise." 
 
 "The circle of knowledge commences close around a man, 
 and thence extends concentrically." 
 
 " Force not the faculties of children into the remote paths of 
 knowledge, until they have gained strength by exercise on things 
 that are near them.'' 
 
 " There is in Nature an order and march of development. If 
 you disturb or interfere with it, you mar the peace and harmony 
 of the mind. And this you do, if, before you have formed the 
 mind by the progressive knowledge of the realities of life, you 
 fling it into the labyrinth of words, and make them the basis of 
 development." 
 
 " The artificial march of the ordinary school, anticipating the 
 order of Nature, which proceeds without anxiety and without 
 haste, inverts this order by placing words first, and thus secures 
 a deceitful appearance of success at tlie expense of natural and 
 safe development." 
 
 In these few sentences we recognize all that is most 
 characteristic in the educational principles of Pesta- 
 lozzi. 
 
 I will put them into another form: — 
 
 (1) There is a natural order in which the powers of 
 the human being develop or unfold themselves. 
 
 (2) We must study and understand this order of Na- 
 ture, if we would aid, and not disturb, the develop- 
 ment. 
 
 (3) We aid the development, and consequently pro- 
 mote the growth of the faculties concerned in it, when 
 we call them into exercise. 
 
 (4) Nature exercises the faculties of children on the 
 realities of life — on the near, the present, the actual. 
 
 (5) If we would promote that exercise of the faculties 
 which constitutes development and ends in growth, we
 
 SOUND PRINCIPLES, IMPERFECT APPLICATION. 239 
 
 also, as teachers, must, in the case of children, direct 
 them to the realities of life — to the things which come in 
 contact with them, which concern their immediate in- 
 terests, feelings, and thoughts. 
 
 (6) Within this area of personal experience we must 
 confine them, until, by assiduous, practical exercise in it, 
 their powers are strengthened, and they are prepared to 
 advance to the next concentric circle, and then to the 
 next, and so on, in unbroken succession. 
 
 (7) In the order of Nature, things go before words, 
 the realities before the symbols, the substance before 
 shadow. We cannot, without disturbing the harmonious 
 order of the development, invert this order. If we do 
 so, we take the traveller out of the open sunlit high-road, 
 and plunge him into an obscure labyrinth, where he gets 
 entangled and bewildered, and loses his way. 
 
 These are the fundamental principles of Pestalozzi's 
 theory of intellectual as well as moral education, and I 
 need hardly say that they resolve themselves into the 
 principles of human natiire. 
 
 But we next inquire, How did he apply them ? What 
 was his method ? These questions are somewhat em- 
 barrassing, and, if strictly pressed, must be answered by 
 saying that he often applied them very imperfectly and 
 inconsistently, and that his method for the most part 
 consisted in having none at all. The fact is, that the 
 unrivalled incapacity for governing men and external 
 things, to which he confessed, extended itself also to the 
 inner region of his understanding. He could no more 
 govern his conceptions than the circumstances around 
 him. The resulting action, then, was wanting in order 
 and proportion. It was the action of a man set upon
 
 240 PESTAXOZZI. 
 
 bringing out the powers of those he influenced, but ap- 
 parently almost indifferent to what became of the 
 results. His notion of education as development was 
 clear, but he scarcely conceived of it as also training 
 and discipline. Provided that he could secure a vivid 
 interest in his lesson, and see the response to his efforts 
 in the kindling eyes and animated countenances of his 
 pupils, he was satisfied. He took it for granted that 
 what was so eagerly received would be certainly re- 
 tained, and therefore never thought of repeating the 
 lesson, nor of examining the product. He was so earn- 
 estly intent upon going ahead, that he scarcely looked 
 back to see who were following; and to his enormous 
 zeal for the good of the whole, often sacrificed the inter- 
 ests of individuals. This zeal was without discretion. 
 He forgot what he might have learned from Rousseau — 
 that a teacher who is master of his art frequently ad- 
 vances most surely by standing still, and does most by 
 doing nothing. In the matter of words, moreover, his 
 practice was often directly opposed to bis principles. 
 He would give lists of words to be repeated after him, 
 or learnt by heart, which represented nothing real in the 
 experience of the pupils. In various other ways he 
 manifested a strange inconsistency. 
 
 Yet, in spite of these drawbacks, if we look upon the 
 teacher as a man whose especial function it is, to use an 
 illustration from Socrates, to be, as it were, the ac- 
 coucheur of the mind, to bring it out into the sunlight 
 of life, to rouse its dormant powers, and make it con- 
 scious of their possession, we must assign to Pestalozzi 
 a vei'y high rank among teachers. 
 
 It was this remarkable instinct for developing the fac-
 
 A CARDINAL PEINCIPLE. 241 
 
 ulties of his pupils that formed his main characteristic 
 as a teacher. Herein lay his great strength. To set the 
 intellectual machinery in motion — to make it work, and 
 keep it working; that was the sole object at which he 
 aimed: of all the rest he took little account. If he had 
 any method, this was its most important element. But, 
 in carrying it out, he relied upon a principle which must 
 be insisted on as cardinal and essential in education. He 
 secured the thorough interest of his pupils in the lesson, and mainly 
 through their own direct share in it. By his influence up- 
 on them he got them to concentrate all their powers upon 
 it; and this concentration, involving self-exei*cise, in turn, 
 by reaction, augmented the interest; and the result was 
 an inseparable association of the act of learning with 
 pleasure in learning. Whatever else, then, Pestalozzi's 
 teaching lacked, it was intensely interesting to the chil- 
 dren, and made them love learning. 
 
 Consistently with the principles quoted from the 
 " Evening Hours of a Hermit^'' and with the practice just 
 described, we see that Pestalozzi's conception of the 
 teacher's function made it consist pre-eminently in rous- 
 ing the pupil's native energies, and bringing about their 
 eelf-development. This self-development is the conse- 
 quence of the self-activity of the pu]»il's own mind — of 
 the experience which his mind goes through in dealing 
 with the matter to be learned. This experience must be 
 his own; by no other experience than his own can he be 
 educated at all. The education, therefore, that he gains 
 is self -education; and the teacher is constituted as the 
 stimulator and director of the intellectual processes by which the 
 learner educates himself. This I hold to be the centJ'al 
 principle of all education — of all teaching; and although 
 I
 
 242 PESTALOZZI. 
 
 not formally enunciated in these words by Pestalozzi, it 
 is clearly deducible from his theory. 
 
 We are now prepared to estimate the ^reat and spe- 
 cial service which Pestalozzi did to education. It is not 
 his speculative theories, nor his practice (especially the 
 latter), which have given him his reputation — it is that 
 he, beyond all who preceeded him, demanded that para- 
 mount importance should be attached to the elementary 
 stages of teaching. " His differentia,'''' as Mr. Quick justly 
 remarks, "is rather his aim than his method." He saw 
 more clearly than all his predecessors, not only what 
 was needed, but how the need was to be supplied. Ele- 
 mentary education, in his view, means, not definite in- 
 struction in special subjects, but the eliciting of the 
 powers of the child as preparative to definite instruc- 
 tion, — it means that course of cultivation which the 
 mind of every child ought to go through, in order to se- 
 cure the all-sided development of his powers. It does 
 not mean learning to read, write, and cipher, which are 
 matters of instruction, but the exercises which should 
 precede them. Viewed more generally, it is that as- 
 siduous work of the pupil's mind upon facts, as the 
 building materials of knowledge, by which they are to 
 be shaped and prepared for their place in the edifice. 
 After this is done, but not before, instruction proper 
 commences its systematic work. 
 
 This principle may find its most general expression as 
 a precept for the teacher thus: — Always make your pupil 
 begin his education hy dealing with concrete things and facts, 
 never with ahstractio7is and generalizations — such as definitions, 
 rules, and propositions couched in words. Things first, after- 
 wards words — particular facts first, afterwards general
 
 ELEMENTARY EDUCATION, 243 
 
 facts, or principles. The child lias eyes, ears, and 
 fingers, Avhich he can employ on things and facts, and 
 gain ideas — that is, knowledge — from them. Let him, 
 then, thus employ them. This employment constitutes 
 his elementary education — the education which makes 
 him conscious of his powers, forms the mind, and pre- 
 pares it for its after work. 
 
 We now see what Pestalozzi meant by elementary 
 education. The next question is, how he proposed to 
 secure it. Let us hear what he himself says: — " If I 
 look back and ask myself what I have really done 
 towards the improvement of elementary education, I 
 find that in recognizing Observation [Anschauung) as the 
 absolute basis of all knowledge, I have established the 
 first and most important principle of instruction; and 
 that, setting aside all particular systems, I have en- 
 deavored to discover wliat oixght to be the character of 
 instruction itself, and what are the fundamental laws 
 according to which the natural education of the human 
 race must be conducted." In another place he says, 
 " Observation is the absolute basis of all knowledge. In 
 other words, all knowledge must proceed from observa- 
 tion, and must admit of being ti'aced to that source." 
 
 The word Anschauung^ which we translate generally 
 and somewhat vaguely by Observation, corresponds 
 rather more closely to our word Perception. It is the 
 mind's looking into, or intellectual grasping of, a thing, 
 which is due to the reaction of its powers, after the 
 passive reception of impressions or sensations from it. 
 We see a thing which merely flits before our eyes, but 
 we perceive it only when we have exhausted the action of 
 our senses upon it, when we have dealt with it by the
 
 244 PESTALOZZl, 
 
 whole mind. The act of perception, then, is the act by 
 which we know the object. If we use the term Observa- 
 tion in this comprehensive sense, it may be taken as 
 equivalent to Anschauung. 
 
 Observation, then, according to Pestalozzi (and Bacon 
 had said the same thing before him), is the absolute 
 basis of all knowledge, and is, therefore, the prime agent 
 in elementary education. It is around this theory, as a 
 centre of gravity, tliat Pestalozzi's system revolves. 
 
 The demands of this theory can only be satisfied by 
 educating the learner's senses, and making him, by their 
 use, an accurate observer — and this not merely for the 
 purpose of quickening the senses, but of securing clear 
 and definite perceptions, and this again with a view to 
 lay firmly the foundation of all knowledge. The habit 
 of accurate observation, as I have thus defined it, is not 
 taught by Nature. It must be acquired by experience. 
 Miss Martineau remarks: — "A child, does not catch a 
 gold fish in water at the first trial, however good his 
 eyes may be, and however clear the water. Knowledge 
 and method are necessary to enable him to take what is 
 actually before his eyes and under his hand;" and she 
 adds, "The powers of observation must be trained, and 
 habits of method in arranging the materials presented 
 to the eye [and the other sense-organs] must be acquired 
 before the student possesses the requisites for under- 
 standing what he contemplates." * 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to show in detail what is 
 meant by the education of the senses. This education 
 consists in their exercise — an exercise which involves 
 
 * See some excellent remarks on this subject in Miss Youman'3 essay
 
 EDUCATION OF THE SENSES. 245 
 
 the development of all the elementary powers of the 
 learner. Any one may see this education going on in 
 the games nnd employments of the kindergarten, and 
 indeed in the occupations of every little child left to 
 himself. It is, therefore, in the strictest sense of the 
 term, self-education. But it should also be made an 
 object of direct attention and study, and lessons should 
 be given for the express purpose of securing it. The 
 materials for such lessons are of course abundant on 
 every hand. Earth, sky, and sea, the dwelling-house, 
 the fields, the gardens, the streets, the river, the forest, 
 supply them by thotisiinds. All things within the area 
 of the visible, the audible, and the tangible, supply the 
 matter for such object lessons, and upon these concrete 
 realities the sense may be educated. Drawing, again, 
 and moulding in clay, the cutting out of paper forms, 
 building with wooden bricks or cubes to a pattern, are 
 all parts of the education of the senses, and at the same 
 time, exercises for the improvement of the observing 
 powers. Then, again, measuring objects with a foot 
 measure, weighing them in scales with real weights, 
 gaining the power of estimating the dimensions of 
 bodies by the eye, and their weight by poising them in 
 the hand, and then verifying the guesses by actual trial 
 — these, too, are valuable exercises for the education of 
 the senses. It is needless to particularize further, but 
 who does not see that such exercises involve, not 
 merely the training of the senses, but also the culture 
 of the observing powers as well as the exercise of judg- 
 ment, reasoning, and invention, and all as parts of ele- 
 
 on tlie culture of the observiug powers of children iii Second Book of 
 Botany. New York.
 
 246 PESTALOZZI. 
 
 mentary education?* It is impossible to exaggerate 
 their value and importance. 
 
 But elementary education, rightly understood, ap- 
 plies also to the initiatory stage of all definite instruc- 
 tion. If we accept Pestalozzi's doctrine, that all 
 education must begin with the near, the actual, the real, 
 the concrete, we must not begin any subject whatever, 
 in the case of children, with the remote, the abstract, 
 and the ideal — that is, never with definitions, generali- 
 ties, or rules; which, as far as their experience is con- 
 cerned, all belong to this category. In teaching Physics, 
 then, we must begin with the phenomena themselves; 
 in teaching Magnetism, for instance, with the child's 
 actual experience of the mutual attraction of the mag- 
 net and the steel bar; Arithmetic must begin with 
 counting and grouping marbles, peas, etc., not with ab- 
 stract numbers; Geometry, not with proj^ositions and 
 theorems, but with observing the forms of solid cubes, 
 spheres, etc.; Geography, not with excursions into un- 
 known regions, but with the schoolroom, the house, etc., 
 thence proceeding concentrically; Language, too, with 
 observing words and sentences as facts to be compared 
 together, classified, and generalized by the learner him- 
 self. In all these cases the same principle applies. The 
 learner must first gain personal experience in the area 
 of the near and the real, in which he can exercise his 
 own powers; this area thus becomes the known which is 
 to interpret the unknown, and thus the principle is 
 established that the learner educates hiniself under the 
 stimulation and direction of the educator. 
 
 * I beg very strongly to recommend to all teachers, and to mothers who 
 teach their children, a most valuable little book, written by the late 
 Horace Grant, Exercises for the Improvement of the Senses. London.
 
 diestekweg's distinctions. 247 
 
 You are now, I presume, aware of what Pestalozzi 
 means by elementary education; and you see that it 
 resolves itself into the education which the learner gives 
 himself by exercising his own powers of observation and 
 experiment. The method of elementary education, is, 
 therefore, the child's own natural method of gaining 
 knowledge, guided and superintended by the formal 
 teacher. 
 
 This method has been, by Diesterweg, an eminent 
 German disciple of Pestalozzi, strongly distinguished 
 from what he calls the Scientific method — that which is 
 employed in higher instruction, in universities and col- 
 leges, and is suitable for learners whose minds are 
 already developed and trained. The Elementary method, 
 he says, is inductive, analytic, inventive (or heuristic, 
 from EvpidKGo, I find out), developing. It begins with 
 individual things or facts, lays these as the foundation, 
 and proceeds afterwards to general facts or principles. 
 The Scientific method, on the other hand, is deductive, 
 synthetic, dogmatic, and didactic. It begins with defi- 
 nitions, general propositions, and axioms, and proceeds 
 downwards to the individual facts on which they are 
 founded. 
 
 I will give the substance of his further remarks on the 
 subject. 
 
 In learning by the Eleinentary method, we begin with 
 individual things — facts or objects. From these we 
 gain definite ideas, ideas naturally related to the condi- 
 tion of our powers, or of our knowledge, as being the 
 result of our own personal experience. Such knowl- 
 edge, as the product of our own efforts, is ours, in a 
 sense in which no knowleds:e of others can ever become
 
 248 PESTALOZZI. 
 
 ours; and, being ours, serves as the solid basis of the 
 judgment and inductions that we are able to I'orra, — the 
 iTiethod is inductive because it begins with individual 
 facts. 
 
 The Scientific method, on the other hand, is deductive, 
 because it begins with general principles, definitions, 
 axioms, formulae, etc.; that is to say, with deductive 
 propositions founded on facts which the learner is after- 
 wards to know, not with facts which he already knows. 
 The definitions, etc., are constructed for him, not by 
 him. They are the ready-made results of the explora- 
 tion of others, not the gains of his own. The deductive 
 method proceeds from the summit to the foundation, 
 from the unknown to the known; the inductive, from 
 the foundation to the summit, from the known to the 
 uidviiown. 
 
 The mind dealing with individual things, and seeking 
 to know them, has no choice but to subject them to 
 mental analysis. Every individual thing is an aggregate 
 of elements, which can oidy be known by disintegration 
 of the compound. Nature presents us with no element 
 whatever alone and simple. The Elementary method, 
 therefore, which requires the learner to perform this 
 disintegration, is analytic. In other words, as resting on 
 observation and experiment, it is the method of investi- 
 gation. 
 
 The Scientific method, on the other hand, is synthetic. 
 It performs the analysis for the learner, and hands over 
 to him the results. It directs him to re-construct some- 
 thing, the form of which lie has not seen, and tells him 
 at every moment where and how he is to place the ma- 
 terials. He does not necessarily know what he is con-
 
 ELEMENTARY VS. SCIENTIFIC METHOD. 249 
 
 strncting until the complete form is before him. He 
 siitisties the demands of tlie method, if he obeys the di- 
 rections given him. He is not required to observe and 
 experiment — i. e., to investigate lor liimself. 
 
 The Elementary method is inventive (heuristic). It 
 places the learner on the path of discovery, and by en- 
 couraging spontaneity and independence, gives free 
 scope for the exercise of all his powers. It suggests to 
 him new combinations of ideas already acquired, and the 
 solution of difficulties which come in his way. 
 
 The spirit of the Scientific method is opposed to invention. 
 It didactically furnishes ready-made matter which is to 
 be received, not questioned, and dogmatically jjrescribes 
 obedience to fixed rules. It consequently checks spon- 
 taneity, independence, and invention. 
 
 The Scientific method, then, as thus interpreted, 
 though adapted to students of high pretensions, is not 
 adapted to those who are acquiring the elements of 
 knowledge. The mistake, for the discovery of which 
 we are indebted to Pestalozzi, is, that in our ordinary 
 traditional teaching the Scientific method has, unfortun- 
 ately, come to be employed in our schools for children 
 where the Elementary method alone is natural and suit- 
 ed to the circumstances Pestalozzi's eminent claim to 
 our gratitude consists in the service he lias done to edu- 
 cation by "turning the traditional car of school routine 
 quite round, and setting it in a new direction." 
 
 I conclude the exposition I have given of Pestalozzi's 
 fundamental principles, by appending a summary of 
 them. 
 
 (1) The principles of education are not to be devised 
 ah extra; they are to be sought for in human nature.
 
 250 fESTALOZZl. 
 
 (2) This nature is nn organic nature — a plexus of bod- 
 ily, intellectual, and moral capabilities, ready for de- 
 velopment, and struggling to develop themselves. 
 
 (3) The education conducted by a formal educator 
 has both a negative and a })ositive side. The negative 
 function of the educator consists in removing impedi- 
 ments, so as to afford free scope for the learner's self- 
 development. The educator's positive function is to 
 stimulate the learner to the exercise of his powers, to 
 furnish materials and occasions for the exercise, and to 
 superintend and maintain the action of the machinery. 
 
 (4) Self-development begins with the impressions re- 
 ceived by the mind from external objects. These im- 
 pressions (called sensations), when the mind becomes 
 conscious of them, group themselves iuto perceptions. 
 These are registered in the mind as concejDtions or ideas, 
 and constitute that elementary knowledge which is the 
 basis of all knowledge. 
 
 (o) Spontaneity and self-activity are the necessary 
 conditions under which the mind educates itself, and 
 gains power and independence^. 
 
 (6) Pi-actical aptness, or facuUv", depends more on 
 habits gained by the assiduous oft-repeated exercise of 
 the learner's active powers, than on knowledge alone. 
 Knowing and doing (wissen und kennen) must, however, 
 proceed together. The chief aim of all education (in- 
 cludng instruction) is the development of the learner's 
 powers. 
 
 (7) All education (including instruction) must be 
 grounded on the learner's own observation [Anschatmng) 
 at first hand — on his own personal experience This is 
 the true basis of all his knowledge. The opposite pro-
 
 HIS FUNDAJffENTAL PRINCIPLES. 25 1 
 
 ceeding leads to empty, liollow, delusive Avord-knowledge. 
 First the reality; then the symbol; first the thing, then 
 the word ; not vice versa. 
 
 (8) What the learner has gained by his own observa- 
 tion [Amchammg), and, as a part of his personal exper- 
 ience, is incorporated with his mind, he knows, andean 
 describe or explain in his own words. His competency 
 to do this is the measure of the accuracy of his observa- 
 tion, and, consequently, of his knowledge. 
 
 (9) Personal experience necessitates the advance- 
 ment of the learner's mind from the near and actual, 
 with which he is in contact, and which he can deal with 
 himself, to the more remote; therefore, from the con- 
 crete to the abstract, from particulars to general^, from 
 the known to the unknown. This is the method of ele- 
 mentary education ; the opposite proceeding — the usual 
 proceeding of our traditional teaching — leads the mind 
 from the abstract to the concrete, from generals to par- 
 ticulars, from the unknown to the known. This latter 
 is the Scientific method — a method suited only to the 
 advanced learner, who, it assumes, is already trained by 
 the Elementary method.
 
 PESTALOZZI-ANALYSIS. 
 
 I. Pestdhzzi not well knoicii .238 
 
 1. A self-sacrificitic: philanthropist 228 
 
 2. Au unpractical theorist 229 
 
 3. Absorbed in elementary education alone,., 230 
 
 4. Yet the most influential of reformers 230 
 
 II. His work as a teacher. 231 
 
 1. Disadvantages: 
 
 {a) Begun at 52, without training :.281 
 
 (5) In an uninhabitable house 232 
 
 {c) Dirty, diseased, ignorant children 233 
 
 {(l) Himself paymaster, servant, house-maid 233 
 
 2. Keliancc! for conquest on a loving heart 233 
 
 (a) First lesson fvr teachers 234 
 
 3. Virtue from enlightenment of conscience 235 
 
 {a) From the concrete to the abstract. 237 
 
 {h) Intellectual a part of moral training 237 
 
 a' " Evening Hours of a Hermit." 238 
 
 4. Principles of his teaching. 238 
 
 (rt) Powers develop in a natural order. .238 
 
 {h) This order to l^e known and followed 238 
 
 (c) We develop faculties by exercising them. 238 
 
 (d) Nature exercises them on realities .238 
 
 {c) We must exercise them on realities 238 
 
 (/) From this experience, concentric circles... 239 
 
 (g) Things before words, realities before symbols.. _239 
 
 5. His application of these principles 239 
 
 {a) Imperfect and inconsistent. 239 
 
 {h) Yet he ranks high among teachers 240 
 
 (X He developed his pupils' faculties 240 
 
 (5 He secured their interest .241 
 
 A cardinal iwinciple .241 
 
 252
 
 ANALYSIS. 253 
 
 y The central principle of teacliing 241 
 
 III. Hi» Service to Elsnientary Education 243 
 
 1. His great principle: facts before principles 242 
 
 {a) Primary education based on observation 243 
 
 (6) Hence the senses must be educated 244 
 
 a Illustration of this education. 245 
 
 (c) The same principle applies to all teaching 246 
 
 (rf) Distinguished by Diesterweg from Scientific 
 
 method 247 
 
 a Induction vs. Deduction ...247 
 
 fi Analysis vs. Synthesis 248 
 
 y Inventiveness vs. Dogmatism 249 
 
 lY. His fu ndamental principles 249 
 
 1. Educational principles to be sought in human 
 
 nature. . . .• - . 249 
 
 2. Human nature is organic ..249 
 
 3. The teacher removes obstacles, and stimulates 250 
 
 4. Self-development begins with perception 250 
 
 5. Spontaneity and self-activity necessary conditions 250 
 
 6. Aptness depends more on exercise than on knowl- 
 
 edge.... 250 
 
 7. All education founded on experience 250 
 
 8. Power of explanation the measure of knowledge 251 
 
 9. Scientific metliods not applicable to beginners 251
 
 FRCEBEL AND THE KINDERGARTEN SYSTEM 
 OF ELEMENTARY EDUCATION.* 
 
 Among the names of the great Reformers of Education, 
 there is one which has not yet received that honor which 
 it deserves, and with w^hich I firmly believe the future 
 will invest it. It is that of Friedrich Wilhelm August 
 Froebel. His claims to distinction among educators are, 
 however, now extensively allowed in his native land, as 
 well as in Switzerland, Holland, France, the United 
 States, and partially even in England. These claims 
 are numerous, and of great importance. While many 
 otheis have labored with greater or less success at the 
 superstructure of Education, to him l)elongs the special 
 credit of having earnestly devoted himself to the founda- 
 tion. While others have taken to the work of Educa- 
 tion their own pre-conceived notions of what that work 
 should be, Fra'bel stands consistently alone in seeking 
 in the natui-e of the child the laws of educational action 
 — in ascertaining from the child liimself how we are to 
 educate him. 
 
 Further, Froebel is the first teacher to whom it has 
 occurred to convert what is usually considered the 
 waste steam of childish activities and energies into the 
 means of fruitful action; to utilize what has hitherto 
 been looked upon as unworthy of notice; and, moreover, 
 to accomplish this object, not only without repressing 
 
 * A Lecture delivered at the College of Preceptors, on the 25th Feb., 1874. 
 254
 
 FlidOHKI, S rKKSONAK HIS'I<»KY. 255 
 
 tlie natural free spirit of cliiklhoocl, but by making that 
 free spirit the very instrument of his purpose. 
 
 In laying before you the development of FriBbel's 
 principles of elementary education, I propose to connect 
 with this development a sketch of the personal history 
 of the man. We shall in this way learn to appreciate 
 not only the principles at which he ultimately arrived, 
 but the mental process which led to them. 
 
 Fra'bel was born April 21, 1782, at Oberweissbach, 
 in the principality of .Sc])warzburg-Rudolstadt. His 
 mother died when he was so young that he never even 
 remembered her; and he was left to the care of an igno- 
 rant maid-of-all-work, who simply provided for his 
 bodily wants. His father, who was the laborious pastor 
 of several parishes, seems to have been solely occupied 
 with his duties, and to have given no concern whatever 
 to the development of the child's mind and character 
 beyond that of strictly confining him within doors, lest 
 he should come to harm by straying away. One of his 
 principal amusements, he tells us, consisted in watching 
 from the window some workmen who were repairing 
 the church, and he remembered long afterwards how he 
 earnestly desired to lend a helping-hand himself. The 
 instinct of construction, for the exei'cise of which, in 
 his system, he makes ample provision, was even then 
 stirring within him. 
 
 As years went on, though nothing was done for his 
 education by others, he found opportunities for satisfy- 
 ing some of the longings of his soid, by wandering in 
 the woods, gathering flowers, listening to the birds, or 
 to the wind as it swayed the forest trees, watching the 
 movements of all kinds of animals, and laying up in his
 
 256 FRCEBEL AND THE KINDERGARTEN. 
 
 mind the various impressions then produced, as a store 
 for future years. He was, in fact, left as much to edu- 
 cate himself through nature as was the Mary Somerville 
 of later times. 
 
 Not until he was ten years of age did he receive the 
 slightest regular instruction. He was then sent to 
 school, to an uncle who lived in the neighborhood. 
 This man, a regular driller of the old, time-honored 
 stamp, had not the slightest conception of the inner 
 nature of his pupil, and seems to have taken no pains 
 whatever to discover it. He pronounced the boy to be 
 idle (which, froiri liis point of view, was quite true) and 
 lazy (which certainly was not true) — a boy, in short, 
 that you could do nothing with. And, in fact, the 
 teacher did nothing with his pupil, never once touched 
 the chords of his inner being, or brought out the music 
 they were fitted, under different handling, to produce. 
 Froebel was indeed, at that time, a thoughtful, dreamy 
 child, a very indifferent student of books, cordially 
 hating the formal lessons with which he was crammed, 
 and never so happy as when left alone with his great 
 teacher in the woods. The result was, that he left school, 
 after four years, almost as ignorant as when he entered 
 it, carrying with him as the produce of his labor a con- 
 siderable quantity of chaff, but very little corn. The 
 corn consisted in some elementary notions of mathemat- 
 ics, a subject which interested him throughout his lite, 
 and which he brought afterwards to bear on the lessons 
 of the Kindergarten. 
 
 Circumstances, which had proved so adverse to his 
 development in his school experiences, took a favorable 
 turn in the next step of his life. It was necessary for
 
 Clin.DIlOOl) AND YOLTI'Il. 257 
 
 him lo earn liis hivad, and \vc next Hiid liim a sort of 
 apprentice to a woodsman in (lie great I'liuringian for- 
 est. Here, as lie afterwards tells ns, he lived some 
 years in cordial intercourse with nature and mathemat- 
 ics, learning even then, though unconsciously, from the 
 teacliing he received, how to teach others. His daily 
 occupation in the midst of trees led him to observe the 
 laws of nature, and to recognize union and unity in ap- 
 parently contradictory phenomena. Here, too, he re- 
 flected on his previous course of education; and formed 
 very decided opinions on the utter worthlessness of the 
 ordinary school-teaching, as never having reached what 
 was in himself, and, therefore, in his view, failing alto- 
 gether to be a true culture of the mind and of the man. 
 His life as a forester, which, though certainly not with- 
 out great influence on his mental character, was not to 
 be his final destination, ended when he was about 
 eighteen years of age. 
 
 He now went to the University of Jena, where he at- 
 tended lectures on natural histoiy, pliysics, and mathe- 
 matics; but, as he tells us, gained little from them. 
 This result was obvioiisly due to the same dreamy specu- 
 lative tendency oC mind which characterized his earlier 
 school-life. Instead of studying hard, he speculated on 
 unity and diversity, on the relation of the whole to the 
 parts, of the parts to the whole, etc , continually striving- 
 after the unattainable and neglecting the attainable. 
 This desultory style of life was [)ut an end to by the 
 failure of means to staj^ at the University. 
 
 For the next few years he tried various occupations, 
 ever restlessly tossed to and t'ro by the demands of tiie 
 outer life, and not less distracted by the consciousness
 
 258 FRCEBEL AKD THE KIXDERGARTEN. 
 
 that bis powers had not yet found what he calls their 
 "centre of gravity." At last, however, they found it. 
 While engaged in an architect's office at Frankfort, he 
 formed an acquaintance with the Rector of the Model 
 School, a man named Gruner. Gruner saw the capabil- 
 ities of Frcpbel, and detected also his entire want of in- 
 terest in the work that he was doing; and one day sud- 
 denly said to him: "Give up your architect's business; 
 you will do nothing at it. Be a teacher. We want one 
 now in the school; you shall have the place." 
 
 This was the turning point in Froebel's life. He ac- 
 cepted the engagement, began work at once, and tells us 
 that the first time he found himself in the midst of a 
 class of 30 or 40 boys, he felt that he was in the element 
 that he had missed so long — " the fish was in the water." 
 He was inexpressibly happy. This ecstasy of feeling, 
 we may easily imagine, soon subsided. In a calmer 
 mood he severely questioned himself as to the means by 
 which he was to satisfy the demands of his new position. 
 He found the answer, he says, by descending into him- 
 self, and listening to the teachings of nature respecting 
 life, mind, and being — lessons already theoretically 
 knowm, but now for the first time, correlated with prac- 
 tice. " My hitherto peculiar development, self-cultiva- 
 tion, self-teacliing," he says, " as well as my observation 
 of nature and of life, now found their proper place." 
 But he keenly felt, at the same time, the effects of his 
 desultory manner of study. He was neither instructed 
 in knowledge nor in teaching, but he now resolved to 
 make up for his deficiencies in both respects. About 
 this time he met with some of Pestalozzi's writings, 
 which so deeply impressed him that he determined to go
 
 HIS SYSTEM DEVELOPS. 259 
 
 to Yverdiim and study Pestalozzism on the spot. He 
 accomplished his purpose, and lived and worked for two 
 years with Pestalozzi. His experience at Yverdum im- 
 pressed him with the conviction that the science of Edu- 
 cation had still to draw (mt from Pestalozzi's system 
 those fundamental principles which Pestalozzi himself 
 did not comprehend. " And therefore," says Schmidt,* 
 "this general disciple of Pestalozzi supplemented and 
 completed his system by advancing from the point 
 which Pestalozzi had reached through pressure from 
 without to the innermost conception of man, and arriv- 
 ing at the thought of the true development and the con- 
 dition of the true culture of mankind." Feeling still his 
 want of positive knowledge, Froeble spent the next two 
 or three years of his life at the Universities of GOt- 
 tingen and Berlin. It was now, while he was for the 
 first time earnestly engaged in study, that his views on 
 Education gradually gained consistency and form. 
 " Our greatest educators," he says, " even Pestalozzi 
 himself not excepted, appear to me to crudely, empiri- 
 cally, capriciously, and, therefore, unscientifically to 
 allow themselves to be led away from nature and nature's 
 laws; they do not appear, indeed, to recognize, honor, 
 and cultivate the divinity of science." 
 
 It would only he tedious to relate the various pre- 
 liminary experiences by which Froebel — sometimes with 
 few, sometimes with many pupils — sometimes under 
 favorable, at other times under unfavorable circum- 
 stances — pursued his course, until the moment when at 
 Blankenburg, near Rudolstadt, he established, about 
 the year 1840, the school to which he first gave the 
 
 ♦ Qeschiclite der Pddagogik, iv, 284.
 
 260 FRfEBEL AND THE KINDERGARTEN. 
 
 name of Kindergarten. In this name lie wished to em- 
 body two of his favorite theoretical notions: — the one, 
 that education, as culture, has to do with cliildren as 
 h'iman plants, which are to be surrounded with circum- 
 stances favorable to their free development, and to be 
 trained by means suited to their nature; and the other, 
 that a school for little children should have attached to 
 it a garden, in which they may exercise their natural 
 taste for flowi-rs, and be not only the observers but the 
 cultivators of ]>lants. Froebel, as well as his disciples 
 of the present day, protest against tlie application of 
 the name School to the Kindergarten, which is, in their 
 view, a place for the development of the activities and 
 capabilities of children before the usual school age 
 begins. The Kindergarten proper is iniended for 
 children of between three and seven years of age. Its 
 purpose is thus briefly indicated by himself: — "To take 
 the oversight of children before they are ready for 
 school life; or exert an influence over their whole being 
 in correspondenee with its nature; to strengthen their 
 bodily powers; to exercise their senses; to employ the 
 awakening mind; to make them thoughtfully acquaint- 
 ed with the world of nature and of man ; to guide their 
 heart and soul in a right direction, and lead them to 
 the Origin of all life and to union with Him." 
 
 You will have observed already that in this pro- 
 gramme there is no mention made of reading, writing, 
 and arithmetic; of grammar, geography, and history; 
 of rules, precepts, or general propositions; not a word 
 about books, nor even of instruction at all in its ordi- 
 nary sense; yet you will also have observed that there 
 is ample provision for actis'ity and energy of various
 
 THE KINDERGARTEN NOT A SfllOOL, 261 
 
 kinds — activity of limbs, activity of the sens(!s, activity 
 of the mind, heart, and of the religious instinct. It is 
 in this immense field of natural energies that the Vvas- 
 belian idea "lives, moves, and has its being." You will 
 further see that the carrying out of this programme in- 
 volves something very different in spirit and essence 
 from the ordinary course of an P^nglish infant school, to 
 which children are often carried merely " to get them 
 out of the way." 
 
 Having said at the commencement of this lecture that 
 Froebel avS an educator begins at the very beginning, T 
 ought now to add that in his gi-eat work, " On the Edu- 
 cation of Man," he takes into consideration the circum- 
 stances of the child during the period which precedes 
 the Kindergarten age, and gives many valuable hints to 
 guide the mother, who is Nature's deputy and helper, 
 for the first three years of its life. As, however, to 
 describe bis views and plans in relation to that period 
 would occupy us too long, I confine myself to the Kind- 
 ergarten age. In Froebel's opinion, the mother who con- 
 sults the true interests of her child, will, when he is 
 three years old, give him up to the governess of the 
 Kindergarten. In this respect he differed from Pesta- 
 lozzi, who thought that the mothei', as the natural 
 educator of the child, ought to retain tJje charge of him 
 up to his sixth or seventh year. It is easy to see that 
 if this opinion be acted on, the education of the child 
 will be restricted to the experience of the family circle. 
 According to Froebel, this basis is too narrow. The 
 family circle does not generally afford a sufficient scope 
 for the development of those activities which, in their 
 combination, constitute life. A system of education,
 
 262 FROEBEL AND THE KINDERGARTEN. 
 
 therefoi'e, founded on this narrow basis, does not really 
 prepare the child for that intercommunion and constant 
 intercourse with his fellownien of which life, broadly- 
 interpreted, consists. Frojbel, moreover, doubts, with 
 much reason, whether mothers generally are qualified 
 for the task assigned them by Pestalozzi, and points out 
 that, if they are not, the child must suffer from their in- 
 competence, even if he lose nothing through neglect 
 occasioned by the demands of the household upon their 
 time and strength. He, therefore, insists that in order 
 to furnish children with opi)ortunities for displaying and 
 developing all their natural capal)ilities, they must be 
 brousrht together in numbers. The mutual action and 
 reaction of forces and activities thus necessitated pre- 
 sents, in fact, a miniature picture of the larger life to 
 which they are destined. The passions, emotions, suf- 
 ferings, desires of our common humanity, have here both 
 scope and occasion for their fullest manifestation; while 
 the intellectual powers, under the stimulus of inexhausti- 
 ble curiosity and of aptitiide for imitation and invention, 
 are excited to constant action. At the same time the 
 bodily powers— hands, feet, muscles, senses — under the 
 influence and impulse of companionship, are more ac- 
 tively exercised, and the health of the constitution 
 thereby promoted, while a larger and better opportunity 
 is supplied for learning the resources of the mother- 
 tongue. The Kindergarten, therefoie, for its full 
 development, requires the bringing together of children 
 in numbers; in order that they may not only be edu- 
 cated, but educate themselves and each other; and 
 requires, moreover, the surrender, on the mother's part, 
 of the charge which she is, as a rule, unfitted to dis-
 
 HIS CEN'JRAI, TDKA. 263 
 
 charge, into tl)e hands of tliose who understand, and are 
 trained for, the work. This, then, is one of tlie cases 
 in which Fra^bel takes a crude and unconditioned notion 
 oi" Pestalozzi's, and org-juiizes it into a clear and consist- 
 ent rule of action. 
 
 But we are still only standing on the circumference 
 of Fncbel's expansive idea of education. Let us now 
 enter within the circle, and make our way to the centre. 
 In order to do this effectiially, let us form a conception 
 of the genesis of the idea — an idea not less distinguished 
 by its originality as a theory than by its far-extending 
 practical issues. 
 
 Let us imagine to ourselves Frosbel, after profoundly 
 studying human nature in general, both in books and 
 life, and minutely observing and. studying the nature of 
 children; in possession, too, of a large theoretical knowl- 
 edge of education, as a means for making the best of 
 that nature; and, at the same time, impressed with a 
 sorrowful conviction, founded partly on his own experi- 
 ence, that most of what is called education, is not only 
 unnatural, but anti-natural, as failing to rench the inner 
 being of the child, and even counteracting and thwart- 
 ing its spontaneous development, — let us, I say, imagine 
 Froebel, thus equipped as an observer, taking his place 
 amidst a number of children disporting themselves in 
 the open air without any check upon their movements. 
 
 After looking on the pleasant scene awhile, he breaks 
 f>ut into a soliloquy: — "What exuberant life! What 
 immeasurable enjoyment ! What unbounded activity ! 
 What an evolution of physical forces ! What a har- 
 mony between the inner and the outer life ! What 
 happiness, health, and strength ! Let me look a little
 
 264 FRfEBEL AND THE KINDERGARTEN. 
 
 closer. What are t'licso cliiKlrcn doino? Tlie air rinji^s 
 musically with their shouts and joj^ous lauuhter. Some 
 are running, jumping, or bounding along, with eyes 
 like the eagle's bent upon its prey, after the ball which 
 a dexterous hit ol' the bat sent flying among thein; 
 others are bending down towards the ring filled with 
 marbles, and endeavoring to dislodge them from their 
 position; others aie running fi'iendly races with their 
 hoops; others again, with arms laid across each other's 
 shoulders, are quietly walking and talking together upon 
 some matter in which they evidently have a common 
 interest. Their natural fun gushes out from eyes and 
 lij>s. 1 hear what they say. It is simply expressed, 
 amusing, generally intelligent, and ofteii even witty. 
 But there is a small group of children yonder. They 
 seem eagerly intent on some subject. What is it? I 
 see one of them has taken a fruit from his pocket. Tie 
 is showing it to his fellows. They look at it and admire 
 it. It is new to them. They wish to know more about 
 it— to handle, smell, and taste it. The owner gives it 
 into their hands; they feel and smell, but do not tjiste 
 it. They give it back to the ownei', his right to it being 
 generally admitted. He bites it, the rest looking 
 eagerly on to watch the result. His fact^ shows that he 
 likes the taste; his eyes grow brighter with satisfaction. 
 The rest desire to make his experience their own. Pie 
 sees their desire, breaks or cuts tlie fruit in pieces, which 
 he distributes among them. He adds to his own pleas- 
 ure by sharing in theirs. Suddenly a loud shout from 
 some other part of the ground atti'acts the attention of 
 the group, which scatters in all directions. Let me now 
 consider. What does all this manifold movement — this
 
 WHAT HE LEARNED FROM ( HILDREN's PLAY. 265 
 
 exliiliitinn of s])Oiitaneniis energy — really mean? To 
 me it seera>! to have a profound meaning. 
 
 It means — 
 ' "(1) That tliere is an immense external development 
 and expansion of energy of various kinds — ]ihysical, 
 intellectual, and moral Limbs, senses, lungs, tongues, 
 minds, hearts, are all at work — all co-operating to pi"0- 
 duce the general effect. 
 
 "(2) That activity — doing — is the common character- 
 istic of this development of force. 
 
 "(3) That spontaneity — absolute freedom from out- 
 ward control — appears to be both impulse and law to 
 the activity. 
 
 "(4) That the harmonious combination and interac- 
 tion of spontaneity and activity constitnte the happi- 
 ness which is apparent. The will to do prompts the 
 doing; the doing reacts on the will. 
 
 ' "(5) That the resulting happiness is independent of 
 the absolute value of the exciting cause. A bit of stick, 
 a stonCj an aj)[)le, a marble, a hoop, a top, as soon as 
 tiiey become objects of interest, call out the activities 
 of the whole being quiti^ as effectually as if they were 
 matters of the greatest intrinsic value. It is the action 
 ui)on them — the doing something with them — that in- 
 vests tbem with interest. 
 
 "(6) That this spontaneous activity generates happi- 
 ness because the result is gained by the children's own 
 efforts, without external interference. What they do 
 themselves and for themselves, involving their own 
 personal experience, and therefoie exactly measured by 
 their own capabilities, interests them. What another, 
 of trained })owers, standing on a different platform of
 
 266 FRCEBEL AND THE KIXDERGARTEN. 
 
 advancement, does/o;- them, is comparatively uninterest- 
 ing. If such a person, from whatever motive, inter- 
 feres with their spontaneous activit}^, he arrests the 
 movement of their forces, quenches their interest, at 
 least for the moment; and they resent the interference. 
 
 " Such, then, apjiear to be manifold meanings of the 
 boundless spontaneous activity that I witness. But 
 Avhat name, after all, must I give to the totality of the 
 phenomena exhibited before me? I must call them 
 Play. Play, then, is spontaneous activity ending in the 
 satisfaction of the natural desire of the child for ple^is- 
 ure — for happiness. Play is the natural, the appropriate 
 business and occupation of the child left to his own resources. 
 The child that does not play, is not a perfect child. He 
 wants something — sense-organ, limb, or generally what 
 we imply by the term health — to make up our ideal of 
 a child. The healthy child plays — plays continually — 
 cannot but play. 
 
 " But has this instinct for play no dee})er significance? 
 Is it appointed by the Supi'eme Being merely to fill uj) 
 time? — merely to form an occasion for fruitless exer- 
 cise? — merely to end in itself? No ! I see now that it 
 is the constituted means for the unfolding of all the 
 child's powers. It is through play that he learns the 
 use of his limbs, of all his bodily organs, and with this 
 use gains health and strength. Through play he comes 
 to know the external world, the pliysical qualities of 
 the objects which surround him, their motions, action, 
 and re-action upon each other, and the relation of these 
 phenomena to himself ; a knowledge which forms the 
 basis of that which will be his permanent stock for life. 
 Through play, involving associateship and combined
 
 DEFINITION OF PT.AY. 267 
 
 action, he begins to recognize moral relations, to feel 
 that he cannot live for himself alone, that he is a mem- 
 ber of a community, whose rights he must acknowledge 
 if his own are to be acknowledged. In and through 
 ])lay, moreover, he learns to contrive means for securing 
 his ends; to invent, construct, discover, investigate, to 
 bring by imagination tlie remote near, and, further, to 
 translate the language of facts into the language of 
 words, to learn the conventionalities of his mother- 
 tongue. Play, then, I see, is the means by which the 
 entire being of the child develops and grows into power, 
 a-nd, therefore, does not end in itself. 
 
 "But an agency which effects results like these, is an 
 education agency; and Piny, therefore, resolves itself into 
 education; education which is independent of the formal 
 teacher, which the child virtually gains for and by him- 
 self. This, then, is the outcome of all that I have ob- 
 served. The child, through the spontaneous activity of 
 all his natural forces, is really developing and strength- 
 ening them for future use; he is working out his own 
 education. 
 
 "But what do I, who am constituted by the demands 
 of society as the formal educator of these children, learn 
 from the insight I have thus gained into their nature ? 
 1 learn this — that I must educate them in conformity 
 with that nature. I must continue, not supersede, the 
 course already begun; my own course must be based, 
 upon it. I must recognize and adopt the principles in- 
 volved in it, and frame my laws of action accordingly. 
 Above all, I must not neutralize and deaden that spon- 
 taneity which is the mainspring of all the machinery; I 
 must rather encourage it, while ever opening new fields
 
 268 FlKKHEL AXI) THE KIXDERGARTEN. 
 
 for its exercise, and giving it new directions. Play, 
 spontaneous play, is the education of little children; but 
 it is not tlie wliole of their education. Their life is not 
 to be made up of play. Can I not then even now grad- 
 ually transform their play into work, but work which 
 shall look like play? — work which shall originate in the 
 same or similar impulses, and exercise the same energies 
 as I see employed in their own amusements and occupa- 
 tions ? Play, however, is a random, desultory education. 
 It lays the essential basis; but it does not raise the 
 superstructure. It requires to be organized for this 
 j)urpose, but so organized that the superstructure shall 
 be strictly related and conformed to the original lines 
 of the foundation. 
 
 ^'' I see that these children delight in movement; — they are 
 always walking or running, jumping, hopping, tossing 
 their limbs about, and, moreover, they are pleased with 
 rhythmical movement, I can contrive motives and 
 means for the saine exercise of the limbs, which shall 
 result in increased physical jiower, and consequently in 
 health — shall train the children to a conscious and 
 measured command of their bodily functions, and at the 
 same time be accompanied by the attraction of rhythmic- 
 al sound through sons: or instrument. 
 
 *■' I see that they use their senses ; but merely at the acci- 
 dental solicitation of surrounding circumstances, and 
 therefore imperfectly. I can contrive means for a def- 
 inite education of the senses, wliich shall result in 
 increased quickness of vision, hearing, touch, etc. I can 
 train the purblind eye to take note of delicate shades of 
 color, the dull ear to appreciate minute differences of 
 sound.
 
 ORGANIZED PLAY IS EDUCATION. 269 
 
 '■^ I see that they observe ; but their observations are for 
 the most part transitory and indefinite, and often, 
 therefore, comparatively imfriiitfuL I can contrive 
 means for concentrating their attention by exciting curi- 
 osity and interest, and educate them in tlie art of 
 observing. They will thus gain clear and definite per- 
 ceptions, bright images in the place of blurred ones, 
 will learn to recognize the difference between complete 
 and incomplete knowledge, and gradually advance from 
 the stage of merely knowing to that of knowing that 
 they know. 
 
 " I see that they invent and construct ; but often awkwardly 
 and aimlessly. I can avail myself of this instinct, and 
 open to it a definite field of action, I shall prompt them 
 to invention, and train them in the art of construction. 
 The materials I shall use for this end will be simple; 
 but in combining them together for a purpose, they will 
 employ not only their knowledge of form, but their im- 
 agination of the capabilities of form. In various ways 
 I shall j^rompt them to invent, construct, contrive, imi- 
 tate, and in doing so develop their nascent taste for 
 symmetry and beauty. 
 
 " And so in respect to other domains of that child- 
 action which we call play, I see that I can make these 
 domains also my own. I can convert children's activi- 
 ties, energies, amusements, occupations, all that goes by 
 the name of play, into instruments for my purjjose, and, 
 therefore, transform play into work. This work will be 
 education in the true sense of the term. The conception 
 of it as such I have gained from the children themselves. 
 They have taught me how I am to teach them." 
 
 And now Froebel descends from the imaginary plat-
 
 270 FRfKHKL AXD THE KINDP:RGARTEN". 
 
 t'unii where he has been holding forth so long. I have 
 endeavored, hi wliat lias [)recedcd, to give you as clear 
 a notion as I could of the genesis of his root-idea; and 
 I may say, in passing, that it is well for you that I, and 
 not Frcebel himself, have been the expositor; for any- 
 thing more cloudy, involved, obscure, and mystical than 
 Frcebel's own style of vv'riting can hardly be conceived. 
 It has been my task to keep the clouds out of sight, and 
 admit upon the scene only the genial light which breaks 
 out from between them. 
 
 Having thus brought before you what I may call 
 Froebel's statical theory of the education of little chil- 
 dren of from three to seven years of age, I now pro- 
 ceed to describe the means by which it was made 
 dynamical — that is, exhibited in practice. But before 1 
 do so, I will add to the particulars of his life, that after 
 founding the Kindergarten at Blankenburg, and carry- 
 ing it on for some years, he left it to establish and 
 organize others in various parts of Germany, and at 
 last died at Liebenstein, June 21, 1852. Thus passed 
 away a man of remarkable insight into human nature, 
 and especially into children's nature, — of wonderful 
 energy of character when once roused to action, — of 
 all-prevading philanthropy — a man, I repeat, to whom 
 alone is due the fruitful and original conception of 
 availing himself, as a teacher, of the spontaneous activi- 
 ties of children as the means of their formal education, 
 and, therefore, of laying on this foundation the super- 
 struction of their physical, intellectual, and moral life. 
 
 And now I must endeavor to give some notice of the 
 manner in which Fra^bel reduced his theory to practice. 
 In doing this, the instances I bring forward, must be
 
 THE THEORY IN PRACTICE. 271 
 
 considered as typical. If you admit— and you can 
 hardly do otherwise — the reasonableness of the theory, 
 as founded on the nature of things, you can hardly 
 doubt that there is some method of carrying it out. 
 Now, a method of education involves many processes, 
 all of which must represent more or less the principles 
 which form the basis of the method. It is quite out of 
 my power, for want of time, to describe the various 
 processes which exhibit to us the little child pursuing 
 his education by walking to rhythmic measure, by gym- 
 nastic exercises generally, learning songs by heart and 
 singing them, jiractising his senses with a definite pur- 
 pose, observing the properties of objects, counting, get- 
 ting notions of color and form, drawing, building with 
 cubical blocks, modelling in wax or clay, braiding slips 
 of various colored paper after a pattern, pricking or 
 cutting forms in paper, curving wire into different 
 shapes, folding a sheet of paper and gaining elementary 
 notions of geometry, learning the resources of the 
 mother-tongue by hearing and relating stories, fables, 
 etc., dramatizing, guessing liddles, working in the gar- 
 den, etc., etc. These are only some of the activities 
 naturally exhibited by young children, and these the 
 teacher of young children is to employ for his purpose. 
 As, however, they are so numerous, I may well be ex- 
 cused for not even attempting to enter minutely into 
 them. But there is one series of objects and exercises 
 therewith connected, expressly devised by Frcebel to 
 teach the art of observing, to which, as being typical, 
 I will now direct your attention. He calls these objects, 
 which are gradually and in orderly succession intro- 
 duced to the child's notice. Gifts — a pleasant name.
 
 272 FEHiBEL AND THE KINDERGARTEN. 
 
 which is, liowever, a tiiere accident of the system: they 
 might equally well be called by any other name. As 
 inti'oductory to the series, a ball made of wool, of 8ay 
 of scarlet color, is placed before the baby. It is rolled 
 along before him on the tabic, thrown along the floor, 
 tossed into the air, suspended from a string, and used 
 as a pendulum, or s|)un round on its axis, or made to 
 describe a circle in space, etc. It is then given into his 
 hand; he attempts to grasp it, fails; tries again, suc- 
 ceeds; rolls it along the floor himself, tries to throw it, 
 and in short, exei'cises every power he has upon it, al- 
 ways pleased, never wearied in doing something or other 
 with it. This is play, but it is play which resolves itself 
 into education. He is gaining notions of color, form, 
 motion, action and re-action, as well as of muscular 
 sensibility. And all the while the teacher associates 
 w^ords with things and actions, and by constantly em- 
 ploying words in their proper sense and in the immedi- 
 ate presence of facts, initiates the child in the use of 
 his mother-tongue. Thus, in a thousand ways, the scar- 
 let ball furnishes sensations and perceptions for the sub- 
 stratum of the mind, and suggests fitting language to 
 express them; and even the baby appears before us as 
 an observer, learning the projjerties of things by per- 
 sonal experience. 
 
 Then comes the first Gift. It consists of six soft 
 woolen balls of six different colors, three primary and 
 three secondary. One of these is recognized as like, 
 the others as unlike, the ball first known. The laws of 
 similarity and discrimination are called into action; 
 sensation and perception grow clearer and stronger. I 
 cannot particularize the numberless exercises that are
 
 THK "gifts." 273 
 
 to be got out of tbe various combinations of these six 
 balls. 
 
 The second Gift consists of a sphere, cube, and cylin- 
 der made of hard wood. What was a ball before, is 
 now called a sphere. The different material gives rise 
 to new experiences; a sensation, that of hardness, for 
 instance, takes the i)lace of softness; while varieties of 
 form suggest resemblance and contrast. Similar ex- 
 periences of likeness and unlikeness are suggested by 
 the behavior of these different objects. The easy roll- 
 ing of the sphere, the sliding of the cube, the rolling 
 as well as sliding of the cylinder, illustrate this point. 
 Then the examination of the cube, especially its sur- 
 faces, edges, and angles, which any child can observe 
 for himself, suggest new sensations and their resulting 
 perceptions. At the same tim e, notions of space, time, 
 form, motion, relativity in general, take their place in 
 the mind, as the unshaped blocks which, when fitly com- 
 pacted together, will lay the firm foundation of the 
 understanding. These elementary notions, as the very 
 groundwork of mathematics, will be seen to have their 
 use as time goes on. 
 
 The third Gift is a large cube, making a whole, which 
 is divisible into eight small ones. The form is recog- 
 nized as that of the cube before seen; the size is differ- 
 ent. But the new experiences consist in notions of 
 relativity — of the whole in its relation to the parts, of 
 the parts in their relation to the whole; and thus the 
 child acquires the notion and the names, and both in 
 immediate connection with the sensible objects, of 
 halves, quarters, eighths, and of how many of the small 
 divisions make one of the larger. But in connection
 
 274 FKCEBEL AND THE KIXDEKGAR TEN. 
 
 witli the third Gift a new faculty is called forth — Imag- 
 ination, and with it the instinct of construction is 
 awakened. The cubes are mentally transformed into 
 blocks: and with them building commences. The con- 
 structive faculty suggests imitation, but rests not in 
 imitation. It invents, it creates. Those eight cubes, 
 placed in a certain relation to each other, make a long 
 seat, or a seat with a back, or a throne for the Queen; 
 or again, a cross, a doorway, etc. Thus does even play 
 exhibit the characteristics of art, and " conforms (to use 
 Bacon's words) the outward show of things to the 
 desires of the mind;" and thus the child, as I said 
 before, not merely imitates, but creates. And here, I 
 may remark, that the mind of the child is far less inter- 
 ested in that which another mind has embodied in ready 
 prepared forms, than in the forms which he conceives, 
 and gives outward expression to, himself. He wants to 
 employ his own mind, and his whole mind, upon the 
 object, and does not thank you for attempting to deprive 
 him of his rights. 
 
 The fourth, fifth, and sixth Gifts consist of the cube 
 variously divided into solid parallelopipeds, or brick- 
 shaped forms, and into smaller cubes and prisms. Ob- 
 servation is called on with increasing strictness, relativity 
 appreciated, and the opportunity afforded for endless 
 manifestations of constructiveness. And all the while 
 impressions are forming in the mind, wliich, in due time, 
 will bear geometrical fruits, and fruits, too, of aesthetic 
 culture. The dawning sense of the beautiful, as well as 
 of the true, is beginning to gain consistency and power. 
 
 I cannot further dwell on the numberless modes of 
 manipulation of which these objects are capable, nor
 
 OBJECTIONS REFUTKD. 275 
 
 enter fiirtl)er into tho groundwork of principles on 
 which their efficacy depends. 
 
 It is needless to say that vaiious objections have been 
 made to Froebel's method, especially by those whose 
 ignorance of the laws of mental development disqualifies 
 them, in fact, for giving an opinion on it at all, and also 
 by others, wliose earnest work at various points ot the 
 superstructure so absorbs their energies that they have 
 none to spare for considering the foundation. But even 
 among those who have considered the working of mental 
 laws, though in many cases from trie standpoint of a 
 favorite theory, there are some who still doubt and 
 object. I will attempt to deal with one or two of their 
 objections. Tt is said, for instance, Avithout proof, that 
 we demand too much from little children, and, with the 
 best intentions, take them out of their depth. This 
 might be true, no doubt, if the system of means adopted 
 had any other basis than the nature of the children; if 
 we attempted theoretically, and without regard to that 
 nature, to determine ourselves what they can and what 
 they cannot do; but when we constitute spontaneity as 
 the spring of action, and call on them to do that, and 
 that only, which they can do, which they do of their 
 own accord when they are educating themselves, it is 
 clear that the objection falls to the ground. The child 
 who teaches himself, never can go out of his depth; the 
 work he actually does is that which he has strength to 
 do; the load he carries cannot but be fitted to the 
 shoulders that bear it, for he has gradually accumulated 
 its contents by his own repeated exertions. This in- 
 creasing burden is, in short, the index and result of his 
 increasing powers, and commensurate with them. The
 
 276 FRCEBEL AND THE KINDERGARTEN". 
 
 objector in this case, in order to gain even a plausible 
 foothold for his objection, must first overthrow the rad- 
 ical principle, that the activities, amusements, and occu- 
 pations of the child, left to himself, do indeed constitute 
 his earliest education, and that it is an education which 
 he virtually gives himself. 
 
 Another side of this objection, which is not unfre- 
 quently presented to us, derives its plausibility from the 
 assumed incapacity of children. The objector points to 
 this child or that, and denounces him as stupid and in- 
 capable. Can the objector, however, take upon himself 
 to declare that this or that child has not been made 
 stujDid even by the very means employed to teach him ? 
 The test, however, is a practical one: Can the child 
 play? If he can play, in the sense which I have given 
 to the word, he cannot be stupid. In his play he em- 
 ploys the very faculties which are required for his 
 formal education. " But he is stupid at his books." If 
 this is so, then the logical conclusion is, that the books 
 have made him stupid, and you, the objector, veho have 
 misconceived his nature, and acted in direct conti'adic- 
 tion to it, are yourself responsible for his condition. 
 
 " But he has no memory. He cannot learn what I 
 tell him to learn." No memory! Cannot learn! Let us 
 put that to the test. Ask him about the pleasant holi- 
 day a month ago, when he went nutting in the woods. 
 Does he remember nothing about the fresh feel of the 
 morning air, the joyous walk to the wood, the sunshine 
 which streamed about his path, the agreeable compan- 
 ions with whom he chatted on the way, the incidents of 
 the expedition, the climb up the trees, the bagging of 
 the plunder? Are all these matters clean gone out of
 
 OBJECTIONS REFUTED. 2 77 
 
 his niind? *'0h no, be remembers things like these." 
 Then he has a memory, and, a remarkably good one. 
 He remembers, because he was interested; and if you 
 wish him to remember your lessons, you must make 
 them interesting. He will certainly learn what he takes 
 an interest in, 
 
 I need not deal with other objections. They all 
 resolve themselves into the category of ignorance of the 
 nature of the child. When public opinion shall demand 
 such knowledge from teachers as the essential condition 
 of their taking in hand so delicate and even profound 
 an art as that of training children, all these objections 
 will cease to have any meaning. 
 
 As I have doubtless appeared throughout this lecture 
 as not only the expositor but the advocate of Froebel's 
 principles, it is only right to say that this has arisen 
 from the fact that, without knowiug it, 1 have been 
 myself for many years preaching from the same text. 
 My close acquaintance with Froebel's theory, and es- 
 pecially with his root-idea, is comparatively recent. But 
 when I had studied it as a theory, and witnessed some- 
 thing of its practice, I could not but see at once that 1 
 had been throughout an unconscious disciple, as it were, 
 of the eminent teacher. The plan of my own course of 
 lectures on the Science and Art of Education was, in 
 fact, constructed in thought before I had at all grasped 
 the Froebelian idea; and was, in that sense, independent 
 of it. But every one who hears my lectures— which are 
 founded on the natural history of the child — must be at 
 once aware that Froebel's notions and mine are virtually 
 the same.* 
 * Bee First Lectui-e, page 17.
 
 278 FRfEBEL AND THE KINDERGARTEN. 
 
 The Kindergarten is gradually making its way in 
 England, without the achievement as yet of any eminent 
 success; but in Switzerland, Holland, Italy, and the 
 United States, as well as in Germany, it is rapidly 
 advancing. Wherever the principles of education, as 
 distinguished from its practice, are a matter of study 
 and earnest thought, there it prospers. Wherever, as 
 in England for the most i)art, the practical alone is con- 
 sidered, and «here teaching is thought to be "as easy 
 as lying," any system of education founded on i>sycho- 
 logical laws must be tardy m its progress. 
 
 I should be glad to think that I have by tliis lecture 
 either kindled an interest hitherto uiifelt in the Kinder- 
 garten, or supplied those who felt the interest before, 
 with arguments to justify it.
 
 FRffiBEL AND THE KINDERSARTEN.-ANALYSIS, 
 
 I. Frubel's Peculiar Place aniong Educators 254 
 
 1 . His work at the foundation instead of superstructure. 254 
 
 2. His laws derived from nature of tlie child 254 
 
 3. The first to utilize what was thought an obstacle 255 
 
 II. His Personal History 255 
 
 1. Childhood and youth: 
 
 {a) No home training 255 
 
 {b) Educated himself through nature 256 
 
 (c) At school learned little but arithmetic _..-256 
 
 {d) His life as a forester 257 
 
 ie) At the University of Jena 257 
 
 2. Manhood: 
 
 {a) From architect to teacher 258 
 
 (6) Two years with Pestalozzi 259 
 
 (c) More University life __259 
 
 (rf) His later career and death 270 
 
 LX Apprehends the divinity of science... ...259 
 
 III. His first Kindergarten at Blankenburg 260 
 
 1. Principles: 
 
 («) Children to be cultured like plants 260 
 
 {b) A real garden attached to the school 260 
 
 (c) A Kindergarten not to be called a School 260 
 
 a Meant for children from 3 to 7 260 
 
 fi None of the usual instruction ..261 
 
 {d) The mother to yield to the Kindergarten 261 
 
 a Experience of the family circle too narrow 262 
 
 (5 Mothers generally unqualified .262 
 
 y Children need to be assembled... 262 
 
 IV. The Central Idea of Ms system 263 
 
 His observation of children at plav 263 
 
 279
 
 280 FRUiBEL AXD THE KIXDEKGARTEX. 
 
 Their enjoyment of exercise - -264 
 
 Their effective language 264 
 
 Their curiositj'' 264 
 
 Their recognition of the rights of others 264 
 
 His interpretation of what he observed 265 
 
 Immense development of energy .265 
 
 Activity the common characteristic ..- 265 
 
 Spontaneity both the impulse and the law... .265 
 
 Happiness from this spontaneity and activity ...265 
 
 This happiness dependent on the activity... .265 
 
 That they enjoy what they do for themselves .266 
 
 His definition of Play 266 
 
 The appropriate occupation of the child 266 
 
 The constituted means for unfolding powers 267 
 
 Play resolves itself into education 267 
 
 Primary education must be Organized Play 268 
 
 Children delight in movement 368 
 
 They use their senses 269 
 
 They observe, but imperfectly 269 
 
 They invent and construct 569 
 
 V. Means for jyutUng the idea into practice .270 
 
 The preliminary scarlet ball 272 
 
 Notions of color, form, motion, action, etc 272 
 
 Practice in use of language 272 
 
 The First Gift: six woollen balls 273 
 
 Laws of similarity and discrimination 273 
 
 Sensation and perception developed 273 
 
 The Second Gift: sphere, cube, and cylinder 273 
 
 Hardness and softness. 273 
 
 Shape, space, time, motion 273 
 
 Foundation laid for mathematics — 273 
 
 The Third Gift: a large cube divided 273 
 
 The whole and its parts 274 
 
 Imagination and construction. 274 
 
 Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Gifts, etc... -274 
 
 VI. Ohjections to Fnebel's Method 275 
 
 That too much is demanded of children 275
 
 ANALYSIS. 281 
 
 But it is all based on spoutaneity 275 
 
 The self-taught child not overburdened 376 
 
 That some children are stupid..- 276 
 
 Not if they can play 276 
 
 That they have no memory 276 
 
 But they remember things out of school 277 
 
 VII. Fmbel's Method is Mr. Payne's 278
 
 THK SCHOOL, BULLETIN PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 Helps in Language Teaching. 
 
 1. Normal language I/essous: being the instruction in 
 Grammar given at the Corthind State Normal School. By Prof. S. 
 J. SoKNBEKGEK. 16nio, boarcls, pp. 81. 50 cts. 
 
 Whatever text-book the teaclier uses, or if lie uses no text- 
 book at all, he will find this manual of great assistance. Its 
 classification is simple, its definitions are careful, its tabular 
 analyses are complete, and its reference by paye to all the best 
 authors makes it invaluable. 
 
 3. Exercises in Analysis and Parsing. By Mary A. 
 
 RiPLKY, teacher of Grammar in the Central High School, Buffalo. 
 16mo, boards, pp. 103. 40 cts. 
 
 The value of such a work depends entirely upon the character 
 of its selections. That these have been gathered with rare skill is 
 testified by the continued use of this book in a majority of the 
 Regents" schools of New York. 
 
 3. The Regents' Questions in Grammar, from the begin- 
 ning to June, 188-i. By Daniel Pratt, Assistant Secretary. 
 16mo, pp. 109, manilla, 25 cts. 
 
 This unequalled series of questions is recognized throughout 
 (he the country as the best drill-book ever made, and the only 
 satisfactory preparation for examination. 
 
 An edition of these Questions, with complete answers, and 
 references to the grammais of Brown, Murray, Greene, Clark, 
 Kerl, Quackenbos, Weld & Quackenbos, Hart, Fowler, Swinton, 
 Reed & Kellogg, and Whitney, will be sent post paid to any 
 address an receipt of One Dollar. It contains 198 pages, and is 
 liandsomely bound in cloth. 
 
 4. Dime Question Hook No. 14, Grammar. By ALBERT 
 P. SouTHWiCK. l6mo, paper, pp. 35. Pi-ice 10 cents. 
 
 This is one of the best books in a deservedly popular seriesi 
 giving full answers to every question, with notes, queries, etc. 
 Conductor John Kennedy says: " The bad question book fosters 
 cram; the good one suggests study. Mr. Southwick's system is 
 good. It is happy and nourishing. I hope you may sell a million 
 of them." 
 
 C. W. BARDEEN, Pub., Syracuse, N. Y.
 
 THK SCHOOI. BUI.I.KTIN PUBI.T CATIONS. 
 
 Helps in Teaching Literature. 
 
 1. A Series of Questions in English and American 
 
 Iiiterature, prepared for class drill and private study by MARy 
 F. llKNDiticK, teacher in the State Normal School, Cortland, N. 
 Y. I61UO. boards, pages 100, interleaved. 35 cents. 
 
 Tills edition is especially prepared for taking notes in tlie 
 literature class, and may be used in connection with any text-book 
 or under any instruction. 
 
 54. Early English ]l,iterature, from the Lay of Beowulf to 
 Edmund Spenser. By Wm. B. Harlow, instructor in the High 
 School, Syracuse, N. Y. 16 mo, cloth, pp. 138. Price 75 cents. 
 
 This handsome volume gives copious extracts from all leading 
 authors, of sufficient length to afford a fair taste of their style, 
 while its biographical and critical notes give it rare value. 
 
 3. Dime Question Book No. 2, General Literature, and 
 No. 13, American Literature, by Albert P. SouTHWiCK. 
 16nio, paper, pp. 35, 39. Price 10 cents each. 
 
 These are among the most interesting books in the series, 
 abounding in allusion and suggestion, as well as giving full 
 answers to every question. They afford a capital drill, and should 
 be used in every class as a preparation for examination. 
 
 4. How to Obtain the Greatest Value from a Book. By 
 
 the Kev. R. W. Lowrie. 8vo, pp. 12. Price 25 cents. 
 
 No one can read this essay without pleasure and profit. 
 
 5. The Art of Questioning. By JOSHUA G. FiTCH. 16mo, 
 paper, pp. 36. 15 cts. 
 
 Mr. Fitch, one of Her Majesty's inspectors of schools, now 
 recognized as the ablest of English writers on education, owed his 
 early reputation to this address, the practical helpfulness of 
 which is everywhere acknowledged. 
 
 6. The Art of Securing Attention. By Joshua G. Fitch. 
 16mo, paper, pp. 43. 15 cts. 
 
 The Maryland School Journal well says: " It is itself an exem- 
 plification of the problem discussed, for the first page Axes the 
 attention so i hat the reader never wearies till he comes to the last 
 and then wishes tliat the end had not come so soon." 
 
 C. W. BARDEEN, Pub., Syracuse, N. Y.
 
 THE SCHOOL, BULLETIN PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 The Best Books for Teachers. 
 
 standard, Uniform, Practical. 
 
 I. Common School Law. A digest of Statute and common law 
 as to the relations of tlie Teacher to the Pupil, the Parent, and tlie 
 District. With 400 references to legal decisions in 21 different 
 States. To which are added the 1400 questions given at the first 
 seven New York Examinations for State Certificates. 7th thou- 
 sand. Cloth, 12 mo, PI). 188 and Appendix. Price 50 cents. 
 
 An hour to each of the seven ciiapters of this little book will 
 make the teacher master of any legal difficulty that may arise; 
 while Ignorance of it puts him at the mercy of a rebellious pupil 
 an exacting parent, or a dishonest trustee. 
 
 II. Buchham's Hand-Books for Young Teachers. No. 1, 
 First Stei'S. Cloth, ](5nio, pp 152. Price 75 cts. 
 
 This manual thoroughly and conijvletely covers a ground not yet 
 trodden. It is simple, it is practical, it is suggestive, it is wonder- 
 fully minute in detail; in short, it anticipates all the difficulties 
 likely to be encountered, and gives the beginner the counsel of an 
 older friend. 
 
 III. DcGraff's School Room Guide, embodying the instruc- 
 tion given by the author at Teachers' Institutes in New York and 
 other States, and esjjecially intended to assist Public School 
 Teachers in the practical work of the school -room. Tenth edition 
 with many additions and corrections. Cloth, 12mo, pp. 449. $1.50 
 
 This book bears the same relation to modern teaching that Page's 
 Theory and Practice bore to the teaching of thirty years ago. It 
 is in every way a Complete Manual, invaluable and indispensable. 
 
 IV. Primary Helps. Being No. l of a new series of Kinder- 
 garten Manuals: by W. N. Hailmann, A. M., editor of The Kind- 
 ergarten Messenger and the New Education. Large 8 vo, pp. 58, 
 with 15 full -page illustrations. Price 75 cents. 
 
 In these days, no teacher can afford to be ignorant of " The New 
 Education," based on the great principal of directing instead of 
 repressing the activity of childhood. As is well remarked by the 
 New Eiiylaiid Journal of Educatio7i,~"The general princii)les here 
 laid down have been applied in many public schools but the 
 method has never before been thoroughly systematized and per- 
 fected." 
 
 V. Huglie's Mistake in Teaching. American edition, with 
 contents and index. Cloth, 16mo, pp. 135. Price 50 cts. 
 
 Superintendents frequently choose this book for their less 
 thoughtful teachers, assured that its pungent style and chatty 
 treatment will arrest their attention and produce gootl results. 
 Any of ilic above sent post-paid on icceipl of the price. 
 
 C. W. BARDEEN, Publisher, 
 
 Syracuse, N. Y.
 
 The Regents' Questions. 
 
 Since 186fi the lleuents of the state of New York have held ex- 
 aminations three iinies ;i year in all the Academies and Academic 
 Departments of the Union Schools, granting certilicates to such 
 pupils as pass satisfactorily, and a|)i)ortioiiin.!j: upon these certifi- 
 cates a large sum of money among the schools of the State. As 
 pupils begin the study of the higher branches after passing this 
 examination, the (ptestions are made to embrace all that is prac- 
 tical in the above branches. In all these 9, 000 questions not a 
 sing\e unimportant or "catch" question can be found. They are 
 now used as text-books in many of the leading schools of the 
 country. Cornell University, and most other colleges, recognizing 
 their practical character, now admit, without any further examin- 
 ation upon these subjects, i)ui)ilswho have i)asse(i an examination 
 upon these (piestions. Students must pass these examinations 
 before they are admitted to Teachers' Classes in Academies, and 
 by the new rules of the New York Court of Appeals, applicants 
 lor examination or for clerkship, shall if not college graduates, 
 first pass one of these examinations. 
 
 The following ELEVEN EDITIONS are published: 
 
 1. The Eegents' Questions in Arithmetic, Geography, Gram- 
 
 mar and Spelling, complete with Keys to the Aritlnnetic, 
 Geography and Grammar Questions, 16mo, cloth .•J2.00 
 
 2. The Regents' Questions in Arithmetic, Geography.Grain- 
 
 mar and Spelling, Complete, cloth 1.00 
 
 3. The Regents' Questions in Arithmetic, manilla, cloth back. . .25 
 
 4. Key to the same, manilla, cloth back 25 
 
 5. The same,each on slip of card-board in box, with key 1.00 
 
 6. The Regents' Questions in Geography, manilla, cloth back .25 
 
 7. Key to the same, manilla, cloth back 25 
 
 8. The Regents' Questions in Grammar, manilla, cloth back .25 
 
 9. The Regents' Questions in Grammar, with Key, unth refer- 
 
 ences tipon every point to all the leading text hooks now in 
 use, thus forming a Comparative English Grammar, 
 cloth 1.00 
 
 10. The Key to the Grammar without the questions, manilla, 
 
 cloth back 
 
 11. The Regents' Questions in Spelling manilla, cloth back 25 
 
 The questions for the Regents' Higher Examinations have never 
 been published, the Regents forbidding it. Instead we have issued 
 tlie Dime Question Books, with full answers, covering all the 
 ground required. Special circulars sent upon application. 
 
 Any of the above will be sent by mail, post-paid, on receipt 
 of the prices annexed. 
 
 Address, 
 
 C. W. BARDEEN, Publisher, 
 
 Syracuse, N. Y.
 
 THE SCHOOL BULLETIN PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 Dime Series of Question Books, 
 
 With Fdl Answers, Notes, Ciueries, Etc., by A. P. South-Trick. 
 
 Elementary Series. 
 
 3. Physiology. 
 
 4. Theory and Practice. 
 
 6. U. S. History and Civil Gov't. 
 10. Algebra. 
 
 13. American Literature. 
 
 14. Grammar. 
 
 15. Orthograph and Etymology. 
 
 18. Arithmetic. 
 
 19. Physical and Political Geog. 
 
 20. Reading and Punctuation. 
 
 Advanced Series. 
 
 1. Physics. 
 
 2. General Literature. 
 5. General History. 
 
 7. Astronomy. 
 
 8. Mythology. 
 
 9. Rhetoric. 
 
 11. Botany. 
 
 12. Zoology. 
 
 16. Chemistry. 
 
 17. Geology. 
 
 PRICE TEN CENTS EACH. 
 
 The immense sale of the Regents' Questions in Arithmetic, Geog- 
 raphy, Grammar, and Spelling has led to frequent inquiry for similar 
 questions in advanced subjects. To meet this demand, we have had 
 prepared this series of Question Books, which, compared with the 
 many books of the sort already published, presents the following 
 advantages : 
 
 1. Economy. — The teacher need purchase books only on the subjects 
 upon which special help is needed. Frequently a SI. 50 book is bought 
 for the sake of a few questions in a single study. Here the studies may 
 be taken uji one at a time, a special advantage in JS'ew Yorh, since 
 applications for State Certifl^ates may now present themselves for 
 examination in only part of the subjects, and receive partial certifi- 
 cates to he exchanged for full certificates when all the branches 
 have been passed. The same plan is very gererally pursued by county 
 superintendents and commissioners who are encourageing their teach- 
 ers to prepare themselves for higher certificates. 
 
 2. Thoroughness.— Each subject occupies from 32 to 40 pages, care- 
 fully compiled, and referring to the leading text books. The questions 
 in large type compare in number with those given in other Question 
 Books, while liesides these there are many notes, queries, and practical 
 hints, tlmtfiU the learner's mirul with suggestions to further investi- 
 gation and personal tltmight upon the subject. In this particular 
 these Questi07i Books escape the .severe critisism that has hem 
 passed upon the mere Cramming -Books. 
 
 3. Utility. — The Dime Question Books are printed in three sizes of 
 type, carefully distinguishing which is most essential, that the teacher 
 who has but little time may concentrate it upon salient points, and 
 afterward fill in the interesting but less important matter at leisure. 
 The handsome page and the clear type add much to the attractiveness 
 of the series. 
 
 The Entire Series is now ready. Each sent Post-paid for 10 cts. 
 Each Series of Ten in one book, cloth bound, SI. 50. 
 
 Address, C. W. BARDEEN, Publisher, Syracuse, N. Y.
 
 TO PRINCIPALS OF ACADEMIES AND 
 UNION SCHOOLS. 
 
 For the Regents' examiuations we now prepare five 
 forms of Examination-paper, all printed from new plates, 
 and with some changes suggested by the board of Regents. 
 
 PRICES PER REAM. 
 Note.— All the paper weighs fourteen pounds per ream of 480 full 
 sheets, but is put up iu reams of 480 half sheets, weighing- 
 seven pounds. Please specify tne letter, in orderini;;. NO 
 ORDERS FILLED EXCEPT FOR EVEN REAMS. Even 
 schools which have but two or three scholars to try will find 
 it profitable to keep a ream on hand. So much less attention 
 as to the form of the paper is required of the scholar that he 
 can give his undivided attention to answering the questions 
 It is now the practice of many of the best schools to put the 
 scholars intending to try, through one complete examination 
 with questions given at a previous time, using this paper, and 
 having all the formalities complied with. This gives the- 
 scholars confidence, and precludes the nervousness which is 
 often fatal to success. 
 
 B. All printed, for Arithmetic, Geography, 
 
 or Grammar $2.25 
 
 C. All printed and numbered for Spelling, 
 
 as per sample 2.50 
 
 D. 37 sheets Spelling printed and num- 
 
 bered, 
 185 sheets Arithmetic, Geography, 
 
 Grammar, printed, > 
 
 258 sheets Arithmetic, Geography, 
 
 Grammar, not printed, 
 480 sheets complete for 37 pupils j 2.00 
 
 The last form is preferred by nine-tenths of the schools purchasing,, 
 and we recommend it as the cheapest and most satisfactory. The 
 sheets printed on the back are used only for the last sheet in each ex- 
 ercise, usually the second in Arithmetic and Geography and the third 
 in Grammar. 
 
 E. The same as D. except that all the 
 sheets in Arithmetic, Grammar, and 
 Geography are printed upon the back.. 2.40 
 
 F. All printed, for the Advanced Examina- 
 tions only 2.25 
 
 C. W. BAKDEEN, Pub., Syracuse, N. Y. 
 
 bi Alii IlUxHiViAL 5UHUUL
 
 LOB ^M 
 
 UCLA-Young Research Library 
 
 LB875.P29 12 
 
 yr 
 
 L 009 578 688 5 
 
 ..[{SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 001252 590 3 
 
 
 >