A Practical Enquiry into the Philosophy of Education Part 6

CHAP. XI.

_On Nature's Method of Training her Pupils to Communicate their Knowledge._

There is yet a _Fourth_ process in the educational system of Nature, which may be termed supplementary, as it is not intended solely, nor even chiefly, for the good of the pupil himself, but for the community.--This process of Nature consists in the training of her pupil to communicate, by language, not only his own wishes and wants, but also, and perhaps chiefly, the knowledge and experience which he himself has attained. The three previous processes of Nature were in a great measure selfish,--referring to the pupil as an individual, and are of use although he should be alone, and isolated from all others of his species; but this is characteristically social, and to the monk and the hermit is altogether useless.

That this ability to communicate our sentiments is intended by Nature, not for the sole benefit of the individual, but chiefly as an instrument of doing good to others, appears obvious from various circ.u.mstances. Its importance in education, and in the training of the young, would of itself, we think, be a sufficient proof of this; but it is rendered unquestionable by the invariable decision of every unbia.s.sed mind, in judging of a person who is constantly speaking of and for himself; and of another whose sole object in conversation, is to exalt and promote the happiness of those around him. The one person, however meritorious otherwise, is pitied or laughed at;--the other is admired and applauded in spite of ourselves.

The benevolence of this arrangement in the educational process of Nature is worthy of especial notice, as it leads us directly to the conclusion, that learning, of whatever kind, is not intended to be a monkish and personal thing, but is really designed by Nature for the benefit of the community at large. Those connected with education, therefore, are here taught, that the training of the young should be so conducted, that while the attainments of the pupil shall in every instance benefit himself, they shall at the same time be of such a kind, and shall be communicated in such a way, as shall advantage the persons with whom he is to mingle, and the community of which he is to form a part. Unless this lesson, taught us by Nature, be attended to, her plan is obviously left incomplete.

In entering upon the consideration of this part of our subject, we cannot but remark the value and the importance which Nature has attached to the higher acquisitions of this anti-selfish portion of her teaching.

Language is perverted and abused, when it is generally and chiefly employed for the benefit of the individual himself; and the decision of every candid and well-disposed mind confirms the truth of this a.s.sertion. When, on the contrary, it is employed for the benefit of others, or for the good of the public in general, it commands attention, and compels approval. Eloquence, therefore, is obviously intended by Nature for the benefit of communities; and accordingly, she has so disposed matters in the const.i.tution of men's minds, and of society, that communities shall in every instance do it homage. In proof of this, we find, in every age and nation, wherever Nature is not totally debased by art or crime, that the most powerful orator, has almost always been found to be the most influential man. Every other qualification in society has been made to bend to this, and even reason itself is often for the moment obscured, by means of its fascinations. Learning and intellect, riches, popularity, and power, have frequently been made to quail before it; and even virtue itself has for a time been deprived of its influence, when a.s.sailed by eloquence. Nay, even in more artificial communities, where Nature has been constrained and moulded anew to suit the tastes and caprices of selfish men, eloquence has still maintained its reputation, and has generally guided the possessor to honour and to power. Amongst the lower and unsophisticated cla.s.ses of society its influence is almost universal; and in most polished communities, it is still acknowledged as a high attainment, and one of the best indications that has yet been afforded of superior mental culture.

That this is not an erroneous estimate of the mental powers of a finished debater, will be evident from a slight a.n.a.lysis of what he has to achieve in the exercise of his art. He has, while his adversary is speaking, to receive and retain upon his mind, the whole of his argument,--separate its weak and strong points,--and call forth and arrange those views and ill.u.s.trations which are calculated to overthrow and demolish it. This itself, even when performed in silence, is a prodigious effort of mental strength; but when he commences to speak, and to manage these, with other equally important operations of his own mind at the same moment, the difficulty of succeeding is greatly increased. When he begins to pour forth his refutation in an uninterrupted flow of luminous eloquence;--meeting, combating, and setting aside his opponent's statements and reasonings;--carefully marking, as he goes along, the effect produced upon his hearers, and adapting his arguments to the varying emotions and circ.u.mstances of the audience;--withholding, transposing, or abridging the materials he had previously prepared, or seizing new ill.u.s.trations suggested by pa.s.sing incidents;--and all this not only without hesitation, and without confusion, but with the most perfect composure and self-controul;--such a man gives evidence of an energy, a grasp, a quickness of thought, which, as an exhibition of G.o.dlike power in a creature, has scarcely a parallel in the whole range of Nature's efforts. All kinds and degrees of physical glory, in comparison with this, sink into insignificance.

It is but rare indeed that any country or age produces a Demosthenes, a Pitt, a Thomson, or a Brougham; and such persons have hitherto been considered as gifts of Nature, rather than the legitimate production of educational exercises. But this we conceive to be a mistake. They may perhaps have been self-taught, and self-exercised, as Demosthenes confessedly was; but that teaching, and especially mental and oral exercise, are necessary for the production of one of Nature's chief ornaments, both a.n.a.logy and experience abundantly shew.[8] Fluency in the use of words is not enough,--copiousness of thought, such as may be of use in the study, is not enough;--for Nature's work, of which we are at present speaking, consists chiefly in the faculty of forming one train of thoughts in the mind, at the same time that the individual is giving expression to another. Every child, accordingly, who holds conversation with his companion, is practising on a limited scale the very exercise which, if carried out by regular gradations, would ultimately lead to that excellence which we have above described. In every case of free unconstrained conversation, the operation of this principle of Nature is apparent; for the idea is present to the mind some time before the tongue gives it utterance, and the person is preparing a second idea, at the moment he is communicating the first.

Upon this simple principle the whole art of eloquence, when a.n.a.lyzed, appears to depend. We shall therefore endeavour to trace its operation, and the methods which Nature adopts for the purpose of perfecting it.

That this ability is altogether acquired, and depends wholly upon exercise for its cultivation, is obvious in every stage of its progress, but especially towards its commencement. When Nature first begins to suggest to an infant the use of language, we perceive that it cannot think and speak at the same moment. Long after it has acquired the knowledge of words and names, and even the power of articulating them, it utters but one syllable, or one word at a time. Its language, for a while after it has acquired a pretty extensive acquaintance with nouns and adjectives, is made up of single, or at most double words, with an observable pause between each, as if, after uttering one, it had to collect its thoughts and again prepare for a new effort, before it was able to p.r.o.nounce the next. This is the child's first step, or rather the child's first attempt, in this important exercise; and it is conspicuous chiefly by the want, even in the least degree, of that power of which we have spoken. By and bye, however, the child is able to put two syllables, or two words together, without the pause;--but not three.

That is a work of time, and that again has to become familiar, before four, or more words be attempted. These, however, are at last mastered; and he slowly acquires by practice the ability to utter a short sentence, composed chiefly of nouns, adjectives, and verbs, without interruption, and at last without difficulty.

In the process here described, we perceive the commencement of Nature's exercises in training her pupil to the acquisition of this valuable faculty. It consists chiefly, as we have said, in enabling the child by regular practice to arrive at such a command of the mental faculties, and the powers of articulation, as qualifies him to exercise both apparently at the same moment. His mind is employed in preparing one set of ideas, while the organs of speech are engaged in giving utterance to another. He thinks that which he is about to speak, at the moment he is speaking that which he previously thought; and if, as is generally admitted, the mind cannot be engaged upon two things at the same moment, there is here an instance of such a rapid and successive transition from one to another, as obviously to elude perception.

The various means which Nature employs in working out this great end in the young are very remarkable. We have seen that a child at first does not possess the power of uttering even a word, while his thoughts are engaged on any thing else. The powers of the mind must as it were be concentrated upon that one word, till by long practice he can at last think on one and utter another. The same difficulty of speaking and thinking on different things is observable in his amus.e.m.e.nts; and Nature appears to employ the powerful auxiliary of his play to a.s.sist him in overcoming it. When a young child is engaged in any amus.e.m.e.nt which requires thought, the inability of the mind to do double duty is very evident. He cannot hear a question, nor speak a single sentence, and go on with his play at the same time. If a question be asked, he stops, looks up, hears, answers, and then perhaps collects his thoughts, and again proceeds with his game as before; but for a long time he cannot even hear, far less speak, and play at the same moment. When a child is able to do this, it is a good sign of his having acquired considerable mental powers.

The excitement of play, we have said, is one chief means which Nature employs for the cultivation of this faculty, and it is peculiarly worthy of attention by the Educationist. Every one must have observed the strong desire which children have, during their more exhilarating games, to exercise their lungs by shouting, and calling out, and giving direction, encouragement, or reproof, to their companions. In all these instances, the impetus of their play is not apparently stopt while they speak, and every time that this takes place, they are promoting their mental, as well as their physical health and well-being. The accuracy of this remark is perhaps more conspicuous, although not more real, in the less boisterous and more placid employment of the young. The lively prattle of the girl, while constructing her baby-house; her playful arrogation of authority and command over her playmates, and her serio-comic administering of commendation or reproof in the a.s.sumed character of "mistress" or "mother," are all instances of a similar kind. A little attention to the matter will convince any one, that every sentence uttered by a child while dressing a doll, or rigging a s.h.i.+p, or cutting a stick, is really intended and employed by Nature in advancing this great object. And we cannot help remarking, that the irksome silence so frequently enjoined upon children during their play, or during any species of active employment, is not only harsh and unnecessary, but is positively hurtful. It is in direct opposition both to the design and the practice of Nature. It is obstructing, or at least neglecting the cultivation and the developement of powers, which are destined to be a chief ornament of life; a source of honour and enjoyment to the pupil himself, and ultimately a great benefit to society.

The cultivation of this faculty in adults, after they have emanc.i.p.ated themselves from the discipline of Nature, is advanced or r.e.t.a.r.ded by the use or neglect of similar means. Accordingly we find, that in every instance where the powers of the mind are actively, (not mechanically) employed, while the individual is at the same time called on to exercise his powers of speech and hearing on something else, this faculty of extemporaneous speaking is cultivated, and rendered more easy and fluent. Whereas, on the contrary, the most extensive acquaintance with words, even when combined with much knowledge, has but little influence in making a ready speaker. Many of the most voluble of our species have but a very scanty vocabulary, and still less knowledge; while men of extensive and profound learning, whose habits have been formed in the study, are often defective even in common conversation, and utterly unable to undertake with success the task of public extemporaneous speaking. From this cause it is, that some of our ablest men, and our greatest scholars, are necessitated to read that which they dare not trust themselves to speak; while others, by a different practice, and perhaps with fewer real attainments, feel no difficulty in arranging their ideas, and delivering them at the same time with ease and fluency.

Hence it is also, that travelling, frequent intercourse with strangers, debating societies, and above all, forensic pleadings, sharpen the faculties, and give an ease and accuracy in thinking and speaking, which are but rarely acquired in the same degree in any other way.

There is one particular feature in this department of Nature's teaching, which is of so much importance both to the young and to adults, that it ought not to be pa.s.sed over without notice. It is the important fact, that the highest attainments in this valuable accomplishment are within the reach of almost every individual pupil, by a very moderate diligence in the use of the proper means. The counterpart of this is equally true; for without culture, either regular or accidental, no portion of it can ever be acquired. This is abundantly proved both by experience and a.n.a.logy. Experience has shewn, that in every case, perseverance alone, often without system, has made great and powerful speakers; and the a.n.a.logy between the expression of our feelings by _words_ and by _music_, shews what proper training may do in both cases. Every one will admit that it is easier to give expression to our feelings by the natural organs of speech, than by the mechanical use of a musical instrument; and if by making use of the proper means, and with a moderate degree of diligence and perseverance, every man can be trained to play dexterously on the violin, or the organ, and at the same moment maintain a perfect command over the operations of his mind,--we may reasonably conclude, from a.n.a.logy, that with an equal, or even a smaller degree of diligence, when the means have been equally systematized, the most humble individual may be trained to manage the operations of his mind, while he is otherwise making use of his _tongue_, as the other is of his _fingers_.

But the opposite of this, as we have stated above, is equally true. For, although a man may, by diligence and perseverance, attain a high degree of perfection in the exercise of this faculty; yet, even the lowest must be procured by the use of means. The art of thinking and speaking different ideas at the same time, as we have proved, is not an instinctive, but is wholly an acquired faculty, and must be attained by exercise wherever it is possessed. We have instanced as examples the case of the girl having at first to stop while dressing her doll, and the boy while rigging his s.h.i.+p; but what we wish to notice here is, that the principle is not peculiar to children, whose ideas are few, and whose language is imperfect, but applies equally to adults, even of superior attainments, and well cultivated minds. We have in part proved this by the frequent defects of even learned men in conversation; but there is good reason to conclude, that even these defects would have been greater, if the few opportunities they have improved had been less numerous. In short, it appears, that the successful uttering of but two consecutive words, while the mind is otherwise engaged, must be acquired even in the adult, by education or by discipline. This important fact in education, might be demonstrated by numerous proofs, deduced from acts which are commonly understood to depend altogether on habit, and where the mind is obviously but little engaged. We shall take the case already supposed, that of the fingering of musical instruments. The rapidity with which the fingers in this exercise perform their office, would lead us to p.r.o.nounce it to be purely mechanical, and to suppose that the mind was at perfect liberty to attend to any of the other functions of the body, during the performance. But this is not the case; for although by long practice, the operator has acquired the art of _thinking_ upon various other subjects while playing, he finds upon a first trial, that he is then totally unable to articulate two words in succession. Here then is a case exactly parallel with that of the children who had to stop to speak during their play; proving that it does not arise from the lack of ideas, or a deficiency in words, but purely from want of discipline and practice; because many musicians by practice, and by practice alone, overcome the difficulty, and become able both to speak and to play at the same time.

There is another circ.u.mstance connected with this part of our subject, which is worthy of remark. A person who is playing on an instrument, and who is desirous to speak, finds himself, without long practice, totally unable to do so; but he may, if he pleases, sing what he has to say, provided only that he modulate his voice to the tune he is playing. The reason of this appears to be two-fold; first, that the mind, by following the tune in the articulation of the words, is relieved in a great measure from doing double duty; and secondly, and chiefly, because the person has already acquired, by more or less practice, the faculty of singing and playing at the same time. From this ill.u.s.tration, we perceive the necessity that exists in education, of cultivating in the young, by direct means and special exercises, this important faculty of managing the thoughts and giving expression to them at the same moment.

It must be acquired by a course of mental discipline, which brings all the elements of the principle into operation; the collecting and managing of ideas, the chusing and arranging of words, and the giving of them utterance, at the same time. That direct exercises of this kind are necessary for the purpose, is obvious from the ill.u.s.trations here given; where we find, that although a person, while playing on an instrument, may sing his words, he is yet unable to make the slightest deviation from singing to speaking, without a long and laborious practice.

Here then we have been enabled to trace this supplementary process of Nature in the education of her pupils, and to detect the great leading principle or law, by which it is governed. The attainment itself is the ready and fluent communication of our ideas to others; and the mode employed by nature for arriving at it, appears to be the training of her pupils to exercise their minds upon one set of ideas, while they are giving expression to another. That the mind is actually engaged in two different ways, at the same moment of time, it is not necessary for us to suppose. It is sufficient for our purpose, that the operations so rapidly succeed each other, as to appear to do so. The ability to accomplish this, we have proved to be in every case an acquired habit, and is never possessed, even in the smallest degree, without effort. It is, in fact, the invariable result of exercise and education. The most gifted of our species are frequently dest.i.tute of it; while very feeble minds have been found to possess it, when by chance or design they have employed the proper means for its attainment. What is wanted by the Educationist therefore, is an exercise, or series of exercises, which will enable him to imitate Nature, by causing his pupil to employ his mind in preparing one set of ideas, while he is giving expression to another. Such an exercise, upon whatever subject, will always produce, in a greater or less degree, the effect which Nature by this supplementary process intends to accomplish; that of giving the pupil ease and fluency in conversation, and a ready faculty of delivering his sentiments; while we have seen, by numerous ill.u.s.trations, that it is at least highly improbable that it ever can be acquired in any other way.

We have also demonstrated the impropriety of all unnecessary artificial restrictions upon children while at their play, and of preventing their speaking, calling out, and giving orders, encouragement, or commendation to their companions during it. These ill.u.s.trations and examples have also pointed out to us the importance of encouraging the young to speak or converse with their teachers or one another, while they are actively employed at work, in their amus.e.m.e.nts, or in any other way in which the mind is but partially engaged. Exercises of this kind in the domestic circle, where they could be more frequently resorted to, would be of great value in forwarding the mental capacities of the young, and might be at least equally and extensively useful, as similar exercises employed in the school. The consideration of suitable exercises for advancing these ends, by which Nature may be successfully imitated in this important part of her process, belongs to another department of this Treatise, to which accordingly we must refer.

FOOTNOTES:

[8] Note G.

CHAP. XII.

_Recapitulation of the Philosophical Principles developed in the previous Chapters._

Before proceeding to the third and more practical part of this Treatise, it will be of advantage here, shortly to review the progress we have made in establis.h.i.+ng the several educational principles, exhibited in the operations of Nature, as it is upon these that the following practical recommendations are to be entirely founded. In doing this, we would wish to press upon the attention of the reader the important consideration, that however much we may fail in what is to _follow_, the principles which we have _already ascertained_, must still remain as stationary landmarks in education, at which all future advances, by whomsoever made, must infallibly set out. The previous chapters, therefore, in so far as they have given a correct exposition of Nature's modes of teaching, must const.i.tute something like the model upon which all her future imitators in education will have to work. There may be a change of _order_, and a change of _names_, but the principles themselves, in so far as they have been discovered, will for ever remain unchanged and unchangeable.--It is very different, however, with what is to _follow_, in which we are to make some attempts at imitation. The principles which regulate the rapid movements of fish through water is one thing; and the attempt to imitate these principles by the s.h.i.+p-builder is quite another thing. The first, when correctly ascertained, remain the unalterable standard for every future naval architect; but the attempts at imitation will change and improve, as long as the minds of men are directed to the perfecting of s.h.i.+p-building. In like manner, the various facts in the educational processes of Nature, in so far as they have been correctly ascertained in the previous part of this Treatise, must form the unalterable basis for every future improvement in education. These facts, or principles, will very probably be found to form only a part of her operations;--but as they do really form _a part_, they will become a nucleus, round which all the remaining principles when discovered will necessarily congregate. We shall here therefore endeavour very shortly to recapitulate the several principles or laws employed by Nature in her academy, so far as we have been able to detect them; as it must be upon these that not only we, but all our successors in the improvement of education, must hereafter proceed.

We have seen in a former chapter, that the educational processes of Nature divide themselves distinctly into four different kinds. _First_, the cultivation of the powers of the mind:--_Second_, the acquisition of knowledge:--_Third_, the uses or application of that knowledge to the daily varying circ.u.mstances of the pupil:--and _Fourth_, the ability to communicate this knowledge and experience to others.

The _first_ department of Nature's teaching, that of cultivating the powers of her pupil's mind, we found to depend chiefly, if not entirely, upon one simple mental operation, that of "reiterating ideas;" and from numerous examples and experiments it has been shewn, that wherever this act of the mind takes place, there is, and there must be, mental culture; while, on the contrary, wherever it does not take place, there is not, so far as we can yet perceive, the slightest indication that the mind has either been exercised or benefited.

The _second_ department of Nature's teaching, we have seen, consists in inducing and a.s.sisting her pupils to acquire knowledge.--This object we found her accomplis.h.i.+ng by means of four distinct principles, which she brings into operation in regular order, according to the age and mental capacity of the pupil. These we have named the principle of "Perception and Reiteration," which is the same as that employed in her first process;--the principle which we have named "Individuation," which always precedes and prepares for the two following;--there is then the principle of "a.s.sociation," or "Grouping," by which the imagination is cultivated, and the memory is a.s.sisted;--and there is, lastly, the principle of "Cla.s.sification," or "a.n.a.lysis," by which all knowledge when received is regularly cla.s.sified according to its nature; by which means the memory is relieved, the whole is kept in due order, and remains constantly at the command of the will.--These four principles, so far as we have yet been able to investigate the processes of Nature, are the chief, if not the only, means which she employs in a.s.sisting and inducing the pupil to acquire knowledge; and which of course ought to be employed in a similar way, and in the same order, by the teacher in the management of his cla.s.ses.

The _third_, and by far the most important series of exercises in Nature's academy, we have ascertained, by extensive evidence, to be the training of her pupils to a constant practical application of their knowledge to the ordinary affairs of life.--These exercises she has separated into two distinct cla.s.ses; the one connected with the physical and intellectual phenomena of our nature, and which is regulated by what we have termed the "animal, or common sense;" and the other connected with our moral nature, and regulated by our "moral sense," or conscience. In both of these departments, however, the methods which Nature employs in guiding to the practical application of the pupil's knowledge are precisely the same, consisting of a regular gradation of three distinct steps, or stages. These steps we have found to follow each other in the following order. There is always first, some fundamental truth, or idea--some definite part of our knowledge of which use is to be made;--there is next an inference, or lesson, drawn from that idea, or truth;--and there is, lastly, a practical application of that lesson, or inference, to the present circ.u.mstances of the individual. This part of Nature's educational process,--this application, or use of knowledge, we have ascertained and proved to be the great object which Nature designs by _all her previous efforts_.

This part of her work, when completed, forms in fact the great Temple of Education,--all the others were but the scaffolding by which it was to be reared.--This is the end; those were but means employed for attaining it. In proof of this important fact we have seen, that when this object is successfully gained, all the previous steps have been h.o.m.ologated and confirmed; whereas, whenever this crowning operation is awanting, all the preceding labour of the pupil becomes useless and vain, his knowledge gradually melts from the memory, and is ultimately lost.

The _fourth_, or supplementary process in this educational course as conducted by Nature, we found to consist in the training of her pupils to an ability to communicate with ease and fluency to others the knowledge and experience which they themselves had acquired.--This ability, as we have shewn, is not instinctive, but is in every instance the result of education. It is not always the accompaniment of great mental capacity; nor is it always at the command of those who have acquired extensive knowledge. Persons highly gifted in both respects, are often greatly deficient in readiness of utterance, and freedom of speech. On careful investigation we have seen, that it is attained only by practice, and by one simple exercise of the mental powers, in which the thoughts are engaged with one set of ideas, at the same moment that the voice is giving expression to others. This faculty has been found to be eminently social and benevolent, and intended, not so much for the benefit of the individual himself as for the benefit of society. Nature, accordingly, constrains mankind to do homage to eloquence when it is employed for others, or for the public;--but strongly induces them to look with pity or contempt on the person who is always speaking of or for himself. These facts accordingly have led us to the important conclusion, that learning and the possession of knowledge are not intended merely for the person himself, but for the good of society; and therefore, that education in every community ought to be conducted in such a manner, that the attainments of each individual in it, shall either directly or indirectly benefit the whole.

In these several departments of our mental const.i.tution, and in the principles or laws by which they are carried on, we have the great thoroughfare,--the highway of education,--marked out, inclosed, and levelled by Nature herself. Hitherto, in our examination of the several processes in which we find her engaged, we have endeavoured strictly to confine ourselves to the great general principles which she exhibits in forwarding and perfecting them. We have not touched as yet on the methods by which, in our schools, they may be successfully imitated; nor have we made any enquiry into the particular truths or subjects which ought there to be taught. These matters belong to another part of this Treatise, and will be considered by themselves. And it is only necessary here to observe, that as it is the _use_ of knowledge chiefly which Nature labours to attain, it is therefore _useful knowledge_ which she requires to be taught. This is a principle so prominently held forth by Nature, and so repeatedly indicated and enforced, that in the school it ought never for an hour to be lost sight of. The whole business of the seminary must be practical; and the knowledge communicated must be useful, and such as can be put to use. If this rule be attended to, the knowledge communicated will be valuable and permanent;--but if it be neglected, the pretended communications will soon melt from the memory, and the previous labours of both teacher and pupil will be in a great measure lost.

The existence of these several principles in education has been ascertained by long experience and slow degrees;--and the accuracy of the views which we have taken of them, has been rigorously and repeatedly tested. No pains has been spared in projecting and conducting such experiments as appeared necessary for the purpose; and it has been by experience and experiment alone that their efficiency has been established. Many of these experiments were conducted in public,--some of them have for years been in circulation,--and the decisiveness of their results has never been questioned. The several principles in education which it was the object of these experiments to ascertain, are here for the first time, collected and exhibited in their natural order; and they are now presented to the friends of education with some degree of confidence. Judging historically, however, from the experience of others in breaking up new ground in the sciences, there is good reason to believe, that the present Treatise goes but a short way in establis.h.i.+ng the science of education. There is yet much to be done; and others, no doubt, will follow to complete it. But if confidence is to be placed in history, it appears evident, that they must follow in the same course, if ever they are to succeed. Nature is our only instructress; and however much she may have hitherto been neglected, it is only by following her leadings with a child-like docility, that improvement is ever to be expected. By so following, however, success is certain. The prospects of the science at the present moment, both as to its spread and its improvement, are exceedingly cheering. The field, which is now being opened up for the labours of the Educationist, is extensive and inviting; and the antic.i.p.ations of the philanthropist become the more delightful, on account of the improvements likely to ensue for carrying on the work. The errors and failings of former attempts will warn, while every new discovery will direct in the labour. The virgin soil has even yet in a great measure to be broken up; and if we shall be wise enough to employ the implements provided for us by Nature herself, the present generation may yet witness a rapid and abundant ingathering of blessings for the world. This is neither a hasty nor a groundless speculation.

There are already abundant proofs to warrant us in cheris.h.i.+ng it.

Numerous patches of ground have again and again, under serious disadvantages, been partially cultivated; and each and all have invariably succeeded, and produced the first fruits of a ripe, a rich, and an increasing harvest.

PART III.

ON THE METHODS BY WHICH THE EDUCATIONAL PROCESSES OF NATURE MAY BE SUCCESSFULLY IMITATED.

CHAP. I.

_On the Exercises by which Nature may be imitated in cultivating the Powers of the Mind._

In the educational processes of Nature, her first object appears to be the cultivation of her pupil's mind; and this, therefore, ought also to be the first concern of the parent and teacher.--The wisdom of this arrangement is obvious. For as success in a great measure depends upon the vigour and extent of those powers, their early cultivation will render the succeeding exercises easy and pleasant, and will greatly abridge the anxiety and labour of both teacher and scholar.

There is no doubt a great diversity in the natural capacities of children; and phrenology, as well as daily experience shews, that children who are apt in learning one thing, may be exceedingly dull and backward in acquiring others. But after making every allowance for this variety in the intellectual powers of children, it is well established by experience, and repeated experiments have confirmed the fact,[9] that the very dullest and most obtuse of the children found in any of our schools, are really capable of rapid cultivation, and may, by the use of proper means, be very soon brought to bear their part in the usual exercises fitted for the ordinary children. A large proportion of the dulness so frequently complained of by teachers arises, not so much from any natural defect, or inherent mental weakness in the child, as from the want of that early mental exercise,--real mental culture,--of which we are here speaking. Whenever this dulness in a sane scholar continues for any length of time, there is good reason to fear that it is owing to some palpable mismanagement on the part of the parent or teacher. On examination it will most likely be found, either that the pupil has had exercises prescribed to him which the powers of his mind were as yet incapable of accomplis.h.i.+ng; or, if the exercises themselves have been suitable, there has been more prescribed than he was able to overtake.

In either case the effect will be the same. The mind has been unnaturally burdened, or overstretched; confusion of ideas and mental weakness have been the consequence; and if so, the very attempt to keep up with his companions in the cla.s.s only tends to aggravate the evil.

Hence arises the propriety of following Nature in making the expansion and cultivation of the powers of the mind our first object; and our design in the present chapter is to examine into the means by which, in the exercises of the school, she may be successfully imitated in the operations which she employs for this purpose.

We have in our previous investigations seen, that the cultivation of the mental powers is a work of extraordinary simplicity, depending entirely upon one act of the mind,--the reiteration of ideas. We have proved, by a variety of familiar instances, that wherever this act takes place, the mind is, and must be exercised, and so far strengthened; while, on the contrary, wherever it does not take place, there is neither mental exercise, nor any perceptible accession of mental strength. It does not depend upon the particular form of the exercise, whether it consists of reading, hearing, writing, or speaking; but simply and entirely upon the reality and the frequency of the reiteration of the included ideas during it. This makes the cultivation and strengthening of the powers of the mind a very simple and a very certain operation. For if the teacher can succeed by any means in producing frequent and successive repet.i.tions of _this act_ of the mind in any of his pupils, Nature will be true to her own law, and mental culture, and mental strength will a.s.suredly follow;--but, on the contrary, whenever in a school exercise this act is awanting, there can be no permanent progression in the education of the pupil, and no amelioration in the state of his mind.

The mechanical reading or repeating of words, for example, like the fingering of musical instruments, may be performed for months or years successively, without the powers of the mind being actively engaged in the process at all; leaving the child without mental exercise, and consequently without improvement.