The Online Library of Liberty

A project of Liberty Fund, Inc.

• Introduction
• Editorial Note
• Acknowledgements
• Observations Upon Liberal Education, In All Its Branches
• The contents
• Part i: Plutarchus Plasmatias: Being a Recital of conversations
• Part ii: Plutarchus Plasmatias: Being a Recital of conversations,
• Part iii: an Essay On Liberal Education
• Chapter I
• Chapter Ii
• Chapter Iii
• Chapter Iv
• Chapter V
• Conclusion: Concerning Travelling

part iii

An Essay on Liberal Education
in which

The properest methods of instructing youth in the Belles- lettres, the polite arts, philosophy, and which is chief, in virtue, are fully considered:

An Essay on Liberal Education, &c.

chapter i

Instruction in the science or art of right living is the chief lesson in education, to which all others ought to be rendered subservient, and what this science is, and what may justly be called false learning.

If there be any such thing as duty, or any such thing as happiness; if there be any difference between right and wrong conduct; any distinction between virtue and vice, or wisdom and folly: In fine, if there be any such thing as perfection or imperfection belonging to the rational powers which constitute moral agents; or if enjoyments and pursuits admit of comparison; good education must of necessity be acknowledged to mean proper care to instruct early in the science of happiness and duty, or in the art of judging and acting aright in life. Whatever else one may have learned, if he comes into the world from his schooling and masters a mere stranger to the world, quite unacquainted with the nature, rank, and condition of mankind, and the duties of human life (in its more ordinary circumstances at least) he hath lost his time; he is not educated; he is not prepared for the world; he is not qualified for society; he is not fitted for discharging the proper business of man.

The way therefore to judge whether education be upon a right footing or not, is to compare it with this end; or to consider what it does in order to accomplish youth for choosing and behaving well in the various conditions, relations, and incidents of life. If education be calculated and adapted to furnish young minds betimes with proper knowledge for their guidance and direction in the chief affairs of the world, and in the principal vicissitudes to which human concerns are subject, then is it indeed proper or right education. But if such instruction be not the principal scope to which all other lessons are rendered subservient in what is called the institution of youth, either the art of living and acting well is not man’s most important business, or what ought to be the chief end of education is neglected, and sacrificed to something of far inferior moment.

The enquiries which are the most suitable employments of man, because none other so nearly concern him, are beautifully described to us by an excellent moralist.

And these therefore are the researches into which youth ought first to be led. Accordingly we find the same poet in another satire describing with the warmest gratitude the care his tutor had taken to direct and assist him in this true philosophy.

Where are we? Under what roof? On board what vessel? Whither bound? On what business? Under whose pilotship, government or protection? What are we? Whence did we arise? Or whence had we our being, and to what end are we designed? To what course of action are we destined by our natural frame and constitution? What have we to do? How are we to steer? What to pursue, and what to avoid? What goal are we to aim at; and how are we to direct and turn the chariot? These are the great and important questions with regard to which till one is able to satisfy himself, he is an absolute stranger to himself, to his nature, origin, end, interest and duty. And it is surprizing indeed to consider, that a man should have been long come into the world, and carried his reason and sense about with him, and yet have never seriously ask’d himself this single question, Where am I? or what? But, on the contrary, should proceed regularly to every other study and enquiry, postponing this alone as the least considerable. How early may the mind of man, which nature hath framed so curious, so inquisitive, so fond of knowledge, and with such a strong desire of happiness, be awakened to this research, and deeply interested in it by a lively feeling of its importance! For what questions are more natural, more obvious, and at the same time, more touching and rousing than these? Indeed no man could long think or look about him, without being led to these enquiries, or having been once pointed to the search, easily quit it, till he had come to some determination with relation to these momentuous points, were he not misled by education into other pursuits; were not his natural curiosity turned by his guides towards other objects, and his imagination taught to amuse itself with investigations that carry him far away from the researches which most concern him. The melancholly phenomenon is not otherwise to be accounted for. And this we know, that whatever first catches and charms our fancy by its specious appearance, will so warmly engage our affection, and so wholly engross our mind, as to leave no room for other ideas to enter; or give such a turn to our pursuits, that it will be very difficult to take us off from them, however trifling, or however hurtful they may be. As the clay may be moulded either into a toy, or a serviceable utensil, so may the young mind either be dissipated, and rendered quite airy, volatile, and absolutely averse to thinking; made fond of the most idle and insignificant exercises, by bad, or turned towards the most serious and useful enquiries by good education. We are indeed in the hands of persons about us in our infancy, as the clay in those of the potter: From these we take our first and most lasting ideas and impressions; by them are we shaped and fashioned into a form of mind almost as indelible as natural complexion. Can the Aethiopian change his colour or the leopard his spots? No more can he, who hath been accustomed from his childhood to do evil, learn to do well. But train up a child in the way wherein he ought to walk, and he will never forsake the paths of truth and virtue. Direct him to the researches best befitting and most interesting him, and inure him, by proper discipline, to right practices, and he will adhere to them, and bless his instructors and formers for ever.

The power of habit shall be fully considered in another place. And sure we need not stay any longer to prove, that man is the properest study of man: And therefore that it ought to be the chief scope of education to teach man what he is, or rather what he is intended to be and may become, by proper application and culture; or what is his chief business, duty and good. Let us therefore, in this chapter, consider what this knowledge means and comprehends: And what the false learning is, by which youth are misled from this truly useful science.

Youth may easily be led to observe, that there is a perfection to which plants and flowers may be improved; or that there is a perfection to which horses and other animals may be formed. And hence they may very naturally be led to enquire what is the perfection to which man may be cultivated, and what is the culture and what the means for accomplishing this noble end. And to know the stock, the furniture, with which nature hath favoured man, the best use of this provision, the end for which it is bestowed upon us, the dignity to which we may arrive by the proper cultivation and employment of it; and what is this due culture and best employment of the powers conferred upon us, that make our stock for use and enjoyment.—This is to know man; to know his rank in nature, the end of his creation, and his relation to the universe, and to its supreme Maker and Lord. And thus alone can one know what he was designed for, or what he ought to aim at and intend; what is his best employment and truest good, the noblest and wisest course he can pursue. Now it will not be difficult to make one early understand what a clear, strong and well furnished understanding means; or that the mind is in a state of darkness with regard to all that most immediately concerns it, till it is able to discern what it is and whence it came, what powers it is possessed of, and what is the best use of them.—Nor will it be found difficult to make youth soon perceive, that self-command and mastership over our affections, is power and dominion, is liberty, is greatness of soul, and absolutely necessary in order to right judging and choosing: They may easily be taught how dangerous blindness or precipitancy are; and that the perfection, the dignity of a being endowed with the power of comparing, computing, judging and choosing, called reason, consists in reason’s holding the reins of government with a steady hand, and letting out or taking in the affections, and directing all their courses according to its best views, upon duly weighing and ballancing the consequences of pursuits and actions. And when these two lessons are understood, a hearty disposition to promote the greater good of mankind, and a large capacity for usefulness in society, will quickly be perceived to be man’s glory, perfection and happiness: the surest way to true honour, and the securest means of self-enjoyment. How soon may very young minds be instructed in just notions of honour and happiness, by painting out to them, in their proper colours, different actions and characters; the character of the deliberate judicious man, in opposition to that of the rash, headstrong one, who suffers himself to be hurried away by every fancy, passion or appetite.—The character of the man who knows himself, and what is the best part he can act in every incident or relation of life, and sees deeply into the secrets of nature, in opposition to him who knows nothing about himself or his duties, or about any of the objects of nature that surround him.—The character of the benevolent man, who is capable of discovering readily what the interests of society require at his hands, and steadily pursues the public good, and is therefore not flattered with mere lip-praise, but sincerely and cordially loved and honoured, in opposition to him who, contracted within himself, thinks of no other end but the gratification of some one or other of his own sensual, selfish appetites, and who may therefore be crowded with flatterers and parasites, but is really despised, nay hated.—Young minds, by describing, by pointing out characters to them in history, life, or fictitious portraits of men and manners, may very soon be taught to know man’s furniture, duty, honour, and true felicity: They will soon be able to discern all the beauty and excellence of that admirable picture Horace draws of Lollius; and to perceive that they and their tutors ought to have it, and such like characters of truly great and good men ever before them as the mark, the glorious mark to be aimed at, and attained to by their education and studies.

The knowledge which this admirable poet tells us, is absolutely requisite to a fine writer, is yet more so to make a good and amiable man; a man of worth and merit in society, one truly happy in himself, and really beloved by mankind.

And accordingly he often recommends this same philosophy, as what ought to be the study of every man who would live honourably and happily in the world, and the main business of education. Now, how youth may be best formed into this knowledge, taste and character, the same author likewise tells us, by setting before us the methods his own father took of instructing him in virtue, and warning him against folly and vice.

What the natural consequence of such wise care was, he describes in the same satyr thus,

His father’s method of instructing him in virtue by examples, naturally led him to the practice, and formed in him the habit of self-conversation or self-examination, and of often reflecting with himself upon his conduct, and upon what is fair and laudable in conduct, and what the reverse, without which one cannot make progress in virtue, or even maintain acquaintance with himself. The nature and excellent effects of this home-discipline are delightfully exhibited to us by a noble example of the practice in the meditations or self-communing of one of the best of princes, M. Antoninus Philosophus, whose amiable virtues cannot be too often set before young minds, in order to shew them the transcendent beauty of virtue, and excite their emulation to be equally wise and good.

Teachers of youth ought therefore to select characters for their young pupils, contrasting the virtues with the opposite vices, as the most effectual way of shewing them to what perfection and dignity men may attain, and how corrupt and abominable they may become through the deceitfulness of vice, if they are not upon their guard against every immoral indulgence. For ’tis by examples that good and bad conduct, with their various effects and consequences, the strength and grace to which men, by proper diligence, may arrive, and the baseness and misery into which vice plunges, most strongly appear: Characters not only point out the virtue that ought to be loved, the wise part that ought to be acted, and what on the other hand is equally vile and dangerous, much more clearly and vividly than precepts, as a picture gives a much more lively idea of any sensible object than the best description: But they actually bring forth good affections into exercise, and by so doing establish right approbations and right aversions in our minds, and thus work into habit and temper that divine ambition of excelling in virtue; which, when it is firmly rooted in the heart, is a living, permanent principle, ever abounding in the great and good deeds to which all the happiness in the world is solely owing, and without which outward affluence is a nusance, a pest. For every vice naturally carries along with it something hurtful to society. And ’tis by wisdom and virtue alone that any good can be extracted out of its native venom, or that its genuine tendency to empoison and corrupt, is alloyed or tempered, as every more shining character in history shews us, by representing to us the struggles to reform, oppose, check, or defeat vice, which constitute its beauty and excellence. This, indeed, is the moral lesson every more exalted example in the records of human affairs presents to us in the most striking light, and which cannot be too early or too forcibly inculcated from fact and experience, “That for a while, prudence and virtue may stem or abate the ravages, the pestiferous influences of abounding wickedness and dissolution of manners: But when vice is become too rampant and impetuous even for much virtue to correct it, then public ruin is unavoidable: Vice is the disease, virtue the medicine, and when the distemper overpowers the remedy, the body politic, like the natural body, is irrecoverably lost, perdition must ensue.” The characters of the more considerable personages in moral history, will afford, to a judicious instructor, excellent opportunities of enforcing, of deeply riveting this important lesson upon young minds. And when they have well digested it, then are they duly prepared and seasoned for entering into the world: But without a thorough understanding and feeling of this truth, one is not sufficiently qualified for directing his own conduct, even in any of the more ordinary spheres of life, but still wants a tutor or guide.

Characters well drawn are (as we have said) lively pictures of the virtues to which men may arise by due application and culture, shewing at once in what we are defective, and to what perfection we may arrive. They set to our view the strength, the force, the comprehensiveness into which our judgment and other intellectual faculties may be improved, and most affecting instances of what is yet a higher qualification than the finest imagination, the most tenacious memory, or the best replenished understanding, that absolute command of our passions, and that godlike benignity of soul, which by spreading happiness all around, as far and as largely as duly improved power can reach, is attended with a sense of inward greatness, and of true merit, with all wise and good beings, which is indeed the highest, and the only lasting, because the most rational fecility: In one word, they exhibit to us in the most touching manner, all the perfections attainable by men: They not only demonstrate the possibility of attaining to them; but powerfully upbraid our indolence, and so rouse our emulation.—Accordingly, teaching by well chosen characters hath been warmly recommended by all the ancient sages. ’Twas thus we are told that Cato the elder, who would not entrust the education of his son to any other, formed his judgment and ambition. He composed for his use characters of the principal persons in ancient times, the most distinguished in his own state, particularly, with a short history of the greatest actions of each, that his son might by this means be early acquainted with patterns the most worthy of his imitation, and model himself by them. And indeed there have been many instances of very young persons, even in modern times, who have been perfectly acquainted with examples of every excellence, every accomplishment, every virtue in human life; and which is yet more, could give a concise, distinct account of the rise and fall of the more remarkable ancient states and empires, in a manner that sufficiently proved they understood and felt what they were able to relate, and that at an age when the greater part of youth are quite rude and ignorant. And what progress in languages, or in any other art, is to be compared with this knowledge? For what do they profit or avail without it? This, we are assured, was the science that was most carefully and early instilled into the minds of all the great examples of public spirit and true fortitude and wisdom amongst the Greeks and Romans, which their history shews. To this principally was it owing, that so many in ancient times were capable of giving counsel about the most important public affairs, and serving their country in various capacities, at an age when with us, according to the more prevailing methods of education, we still excuse ignorance and childishness, and expect nothing manly: Nor could they otherwise have so early attained to such a pitch, not only of virtue, but of civil and political wisdom.

But it is proper to consider yet a little more particularly, that knowledge of human nature, and of the duties of rational and civil life, which is best taught by examples or characters.

Such is our innate desire of knowledge, that children, so soon as they can speak, express their eager inquisitiveness into the nature and use of every new object that falls within their observation. They naturally ask what it is, and for what it serves? Now this native curiosity ought to be indulged, nay cherished and improved into an equal sollicitude to know what they themselves are, and for what end they are made, and may easily be so; and after satisfying, as much as is possible, their curiosity about other things, whether animate or inanimate, ask them but what they themselves are, whence they come, and for what they are designed, and you will quickly see the question rouse all their attention, and kindle a very keen desire to know what and for what they are. And the properest first answer to this question is, to tell them that they are made and designed by the one Author of all things, who made every thing for a good end, and hath abundantly qualified every thing for its end, to improve and grow by diligent culture into the perfection which renders such or such persons so serviceable to mankind, and procures them such universal love and honour. Let the first examples be taken from amongst those whom they have seen, and have naturally, or by acquaintance, some love or regard for: But go on with them, drawing the characters to them, one after another, of such persons as have really been a glory, an eternal honour to mankind, till they have fully conceived, that doing good to mankind is true glory and happiness, and the great end for which man is sent into the world, and formed and furnished as he is, with understanding, memory, reason and various active powers; and till you have raised an ambition in them to imitate these characters, and anxiety to know by what steps, by what methods they may arrive at such perfection.

Take hold of their curiosity to understand the nature and use of every thing; commend it, and let them know that one of the chief excellencies of man, and one of the main ends for which he is framed an intelligent creature, is to improve his understanding, and enrich his mind with knowledge, by satisfying this curiosity, and enquiring diligently with them into the reasons and uses of things: Give them an account of the progress many curious searchers into nature have made in this knowledge; and tell them, that if they will converse with men and with books, and preserve their curiosity, attention and docility, they shall soon know the natures and uses, not only of many things near them, but even of very distant objects, the sun, the moon and the stars. Shew them early, by fit examples, the proper method of searching into and finding out the properties of things and their uses. Above all, let them early be led to observe that knowledge of nature is not only in itself pleasant, exceeding pleasant, and the proper perfection of the intellectual faculties, with which kind nature hath furnished and adorned us; but that knowledge is power, and that the Author of nature hath made a large dominion to be acquirable by mankind, by their understanding and reason: shew them how air, water, and all the elements, and almost all bodies, have been rendered subservient to the advantage or conveniency of human society, by the knowledge of their qualities. They will thus be early led at once to perceive the beauty, and taste the pleasure of natural knowledge, and to remark, that the proper business of mankind on earth, is to obtain a large dominion, command, or lordship there, by subduing, as it were, every element, every object to their use, and that by extending their insight into natural causes, i.e. the natural properties of things, and the laws according to which they produce effects: For thus, and thus alone, is man’s property, power or dominion augmentable: And by thus adding to human knowledge and power is human life sweetened, adorned, greatened. We can only here hint the heads or chief articles of that knowledge, to the desire of which youth ought early to be incited: As for the proper methods of accomplishing this end by conversation, these may be learned from several of Socrates’s discourses recorded by Xenophon: And of them and the Socratic method in general, we shall afterwards have occasion to treat at some length. Till by satisfying the natural curiosity of youth about the natures and uses of several things, they have got an idea of knowledge in general, and know what it is, how it ought to be carried on, and what good ends it serves, besides the immediate satisfaction it gives to the mind, they cannot understand what makes the perfection of the understanding faculty. But by instruction in the natures and uses of several objects, they will soon acquire a notion of intellectual perfection, or understand what a well-furnished mind means, and wherein its excellency and usefulness consists; and be wonderfully fired by the characters of those to whose researches into nature we are indebted for all the knowledge of, and all the dominion over, or in nature we enjoy. Let them see how all the arts by which we subsist with any degree of comfort, spring from the knowledge of nature, acquired by attention to the properties of things and their laws. And they will thus see why knowledge ought to be sought, and how it ought to be pursued, and of what use to mankind they are, who increase our knowledge of nature, and thereby improve advantageous arts, or invent new ones of any considerable utility. And by the same observations they will easily be led to observe the wisdom and goodness of the Maker of all things, in giving things their respective qualities and powers, and so fitting them for certain ends; and in giving to man the capacity of applying such an infinite variety of things to the uses of human society by his reason, which is therefore, as it were, all the powers scattered through inferior beings, animate or inanimate, in one. From which reflection there arises a very natural and obvious consequence that ought never to be omitted, whatever particular nature or frame be the object of the lesson, viz. “That to aim at and pursue the good of our kind by our actions, is to imitate the Author of nature, and to act in concert with him, and therefore the sure way of approving ourselves to him, and gaining his favour.” Let the subject be often changed, but still let the lesson upon the qualities of whatsoever object and its uses, end in these reflections, till having been, by frequent examples, all conspiring to confirm and illustrate them, deeply rivetted in the mind, they will naturally recur to it on every occasion: For thus knowledge will be made an incitement and spur, not only to application in the speculative way, but to action properly so called, that is, activity in rendering knowledge subservient to the advantage, conveniency, ornament or grandeur of human life. Thus will public good become habitually present to their minds, and their predomining motive and passion; the sole measure to them of worth and merit, as indeed it ought to be.

As much as early incitement to the love of natural knowledge is neglected in education; yet, as they must not have observed the natural dispositions of children, who have not remarked that nature points, directs and prompts them to it very strongly, and thus shews what ought to be our first care about them; so, they must not know what natural knowledge means, or to what we owe all the advantages of life, and to what alone we can owe the exercise of our power and dominion in our habitation, earth, who do not consider it as the study that hath the nearest connexion with our interest and dignity, and which ought therefore to be principally encouraged by society, and made the chief scope of education. To give an early turn towards the right method of advancing this knowledge, for the sake of promoting human power and conveniency, is to give the most useful disposition to youth: because, without extending our knowledge, we cannot enlarge our power and dominion; but, by increasing it, we really augment and extend the lordship in this lower world, which the Author of nature hath plainly designed we should acquire, and in proportion to which will our happiness or eminence, as men, always be. To increase the happiness of mankind by industry, by arts, by commerce, is evidently the properest, because the usefulest employment of our active powers. And it is knowledge of nature that alone can enlighten or direct our activity and industry. Promoting public good is the noblest, the best End, the worthiest occupation. But what is promoting public good? Wherein does it consist, but in extending that knowledge of nature, which by every discovery it makes of the properties of things, shews us, that the Author of nature steadily intends, and unerringly pursues the universal good; and enables us to render the life of mankind more convenient, more comfortable, more beautiful and great, by qualifying us to subject natural things to our use and advantage? In proportion to the harmonious consociations of mankind in promoting these ends, must human ease and grandeur be.— And in proportion as the pursuit of these ends is hindered, disturbed, discouraged, or neglected, in proportion do men, or combinations and societies of men, fall short of the felicity and perfection nature hath put in their power to acquire.

So soon as youth are led by proper teaching to observe whence all the arts arise, and what advantages redound from the encouragement and improvement of them, it will be very easy to lead them to take notice of what ought to be the end of these coalitions of mankind called civil societies, and wherein their beauty, order, dignity and strength must consist. For, if the happiness and grandeur of human life must be owing to well employed industry, and industry must owe its guidance to the knowledge of nature, that model or constitution of society must be the best which best protects and encourages well-employed industry: And those to whom we owe good models of civil government, and all the political knowledge necessary to found and preserve well-regulated societies; or to teach us how to prevent and how to remedy the diseases to which they are incident, by laying open to us their causes, their symptoms, their prognostics, and their antidotes— Those are the great souls to whom mankind are under the highest obligations.—Those are the true heroes to whom eternal glory is due. Those truly great men having studied human nature and human affairs, knew human happiness must be the effect of human industry skilfully and benevolently employed, and how the spirit of such industry must be supported and promoted; what causes tend to abate or corrupt it, and by what methods these ought to be removed or checked; they were able to discern whence obstacles to, or perversions of public spirit arise, and how it can only be preserved alive, or revived when languishing and decaying.—And to them therefore, and to the study by which they procured such useful prudence, do we owe an insight into human nature, and the springs of human actions, and moral events good and bad, the utility of which is glaringly manifest. It will be easy, I say, after youth understand that the happiness of mankind must be owing to the industry of man skilfully employed for promoting public good, to make them conceive, that the art of supporting and reviving this spirit of benevolent industry, is a most useful science, and that which must direct in founding or reforming societies, governments and laws, and to inflame their minds with a desire of this knowledg. And when they know what natural knowledge, and what this last kind of science, which is properly called politics, mean; and have had some eminent characters of both classes pointed out to them, they will then understand what is the proper study of man, what knowledge in general, and what the perfection and culture of human understanding towards its perfection, signify and comprehend. Many have told me, and I have myself experimented it, that many young lads, who had for a long time been inured to look upon syntax and prosody as the principal part of learning, and had no notion, no tincture of any other science, have in a few months time, by proper conversations, been made acquainted not only with the properties and final causes of many natural objects, but with the rise and use of several arts, the nature of human happiness, and the way of promoting it, viz. by benevolent industry, directed by the knowledge of nature to the pursuit of things useful to society; but likewise have, by an easy transition from thence, to the end of civil government, been informed with a just notion of public liberty, and thereby inflamed with a warm affection towards it, and an earnest desire for instruction in the true politics above described, and in the history of those to whom mankind have been chiefly indebted for founding good governments, and cultivating and improving that science. However difficult this kind of instruction may be thought by any, ’tis certain that till one hath made some advances in it, and conceived a hearty liking for it, whatever else he may have learned, his mind is not replenished with science of things, or turned towards the best and usefullest study: nay, he cannot so much as understand what real science means, or what are its objects and ends; nor, consequently, have any idea of the improvement or perfection of the understanding. But that it is not so difficult to guide young minds very early into the right path of finding out even what orderly and well-regulated society means, any one will soon be convinced who will try the experiment, and making a proper use of the natural curiosity of the human mind, lead it gradually to observe how much we are obliged for the conveniencies of life to agriculture, manufactures of various sorts, shipping, and so forth; and to take notice whence we have these arts, that is, from what study or knowledge; and to infer from the advantages redounding from the industrious cultivation of those arts, that it must be the chief end of society to defend and encourage industry and ingenuity, by securing to the ingenious and industrious the acquests of their labour against all fraud and violence. Let but the various benefits of ingenious, skilful, benevolent industry be recounted to them, and give them but a view of the insight into nature’s connexions and laws, that must enlighten and guide industry, and they will soon perceive how much it is the interest of every district of mankind to unite under common laws and guidance, for the common defence and encouragement of the benevolent industry, which is the source of so many great goods; and be inspired with ardent desire to understand what are the best, the strongest or firmest barriers against oppression or tyranny, and the stablest security for property, or for every one’s enjoying with undisturbance, the free possession, use and disposal of all he can purchase by his honest art and toil. Give them an account of the inventers and improvers of arts, and of the manifold advantages we reap from such discoveries, and shew them the glory due to them, and cheerfully rendered to them by history, and they will at once see what is the proper employment of human understanding, or wherein its riches and greatness lies, and perceive the application and order of study requisite to attain to equal glory on the account of like usefulness in society, and be fired with zeal to improve their intellectual powers in the same manner; with an antipathy against idleness on the one hand, and fraud or violence on the other, and with love of public order, liberty and justice, and of the constitutions that tend, by preserving them, to encourage and uphold the industrious benevolent spirit, without which nothing that is good or great, beneficial or beautiful in human life can subsist. And are not the beginnings of this taste and temper the proper first elements or beginnings of education, in the knowledge and duties of man? Is not this a good foundation? Or what else ought to be the foundation laid in human minds, whether we consider private or public happiness? What have we done to qualify youth for rational or social life till this be done? And when this point is gained, how quickly will youth be reared up into men equally capable and disposed to promote the general happiness of mankind? I may perhaps, be thought to have insisted too long already upon this point. But however obvious it may be, (and nothing indeed can be more plain or certain, to any one who thinks, than that the knowledge we have described is that alone which can be called knowledge of things, and that alone by which the interests of human society can profit; and that one cannot so much as understand what intelligent faculties, and their improvements and perfections mean, but by the education or instruction that hath been delineated); yet the neglect of this knowledge in education till it is too late, is a sufficient reason for having dwelt so much upon it.

The next lesson, or that which is most a-kin to what hath now been mentioned, and hath the closest connexion with it, is of the highest importance. ’Tis to give youth a just notion of the extent of human power or industry, or of the distinction made by nature between things within and things without our power; things subject to us, and things nowise dependent upon us. Nothing can be more manifest than that till this difference be well understood, men may, will, misplace their labour. And a few instances will soon lead youth, formed and inured to attention, into a true general idea of the things which are submitted to us by nature, or within our dominion. It will not be difficult to make such apprehend, that the general and specific qualities of all bodies, together with the laws of motion according to which their effects are produced, are fixed unalterably by the Author of nature; and therefore that human power cannot change these, but that in order to render bodies subservient to our uses, we must know their properties and powers, and the laws of these powers, and work upon them or apply them to our use, according to these properties and their laws. They may be easily led to observe, that we cannot alter the gravity and springiness of the air, nor the law of gravity in water, but we can render both air and water, in many instances, serviceable to us, in consequence of these immutable properties: They may easily perceive, that the specific gravities of bodies are immutable, and that the same quantity of the same matter hath always the same weight, and yet we may make a lighter body move a heavier out of its place, by adding to the velocity of the lighter, in proportion to what it wants in weight: Experiments to prove these, and many other such physical truths, are easily performed, and as easily understood: And when a few such truths have been explained and confirmed by proper experiments, youth will learn from such lessons what is meant by properties of bodies, and by general fixed laws of motion, and what human art may do, how it must go to work, and what it is absurd for art to attempt. But this being understood, the distinction between the proper objects of human art, sollicitude and industry, and those things which are not subject to us, but are really divine things, i.e. things solely dependent upon the Author of nature, and therefore, with regard us, objects of resignation and submission to the divine disposal, will readily be comprehended, together with one excellent final cause of this difference, viz. the necessity that general unalterable laws should be uniformly observed by nature in its operations, in order to our being capable of knowing or imitating nature, or rendering material things subservient to any useful end with respect to ourselves, since otherwise we could neither know nature, nor have any power or dominion in nature, any natural sphere of activity.

From this observation which results from, and therefore ought to be inculcated from every experiment about whatever corporeal object, it will be a very natural transition to pass to the consideration of our moral power, and of what moral effects are not within our power. Any one may be easily led to perceive, that we cannot add to the number of our senses, or receive any outward sensations or ideas but from experience, but that we can separate, mix and compound our ideas taken in by experience in various manners: And in like manner, that we cannot add to our intellectual faculties, or form any idea of any power of that class, of which we are not partakers in some degree by nature, but yet we can cultivate and improve all these powers of understanding, comparing, judging, reasoning, imagining, and so forth, to a perfection, which without culture they cannot attain to, but must sink and decline: And in the same way that there are original determinations in our minds, to be so and so affected by certain moral objects, as well as by corporeal ones, such as actions and characters, which we cannot alter, and that frequent associations of ideas, and repetitions of affections and actions must of necessity produce habits; but yet we have it in our power to examine our opinions, and to chastise and correct our fancies, and by this discipline to take off our affections from improper objects, and to place them aright, or according to the true estimations of pleasures and pains. A few instances of this kind, exemplified by characters of men who had the full command and mastership of themselves, i.e. of their passions, by means of home-discipline, or of frequently calling their appetites and affections to the tribunal of reason, to be examined and directed or corrected, will soon give youth a notion of our moral power, of inward liberty, and the rule of reason; and shew them, that the chief business of man is to govern himself aright; and for that reason, not only to have just ideas of objects and pursuits, but likewise to inure himself to examine and catechize, so to speak, his affections; and will inflame them with the love of this moral dominion or self-command, without which it may soon be made to appear, that one cannot be great or happy, but must, on the contrary, live in a most tumultuous, irregular manner, and be a prey to every specious fancy that may be presented to his sense or imagination.

It will not be unpleasant to observe to them the analogy between our power over natural things and our moral power: That neither extends to the making of properties or laws, but that both consist in producing effects in consequence of fixed properties and laws; and both of them chiefly lie in separating and mixing or compounding. But it is yet of greater importance, that they should attend to this difference between them, That tho’, with regard to natural effects, skilful industry be generally successful, yet whereas external industry may be obstructed and mar’d by several causes which we can neither foresee nor prevent, inward industry, or application to the improvement of our moral faculties, never fails of attaining its end: And thus the culture of our minds is much more dependent upon us than that of our gardens and fields. So true is this, that steady resolution to conquer the most inveterate bad habits is sure of victory. A physiognomist pronounced Socrates choleric and amorous by his natural temperament. Those who knew his mildness and love of virtue, laughed at the mistake. But he who knew himself better owned that he had been so, and that it had cost him very hard labour to conquer these passions the physiognomist attributed to him. And from thence he took occasion to discourse of man’s power to subdue his appetites and passions, to recover himself from vitious habits, and ascend by brave perseverance to the greatest height of virtue. Youth may be easily led to perceive, that our appetites are governed by our opinions of objects: And therefore, that in order to direct them we must have just apprehensions of things, and inure ourselves to deliberate and compute, before we yield or give way to the sollicitations of any affection. Freedom and strength of mind consist in this command of reason over our appetites and passions, which can only be gained by steadily accustoming ourselves to think and compare maturely and fully before we choose, and not suffering every fancy that may assail our minds, instantly to kindle an ardent impetuous desire. And wisdom consists in having just ideas of pleasures and pains, true notions of the moments and consequences of different actions and pursuits, whereby we may be able to measure, direct or controul our desires or aversions. One able to oppose desires, and to call his opinions to account, and furnished with the knowledge of the effects and consequences of actions requisite to shew him how he ought to behave in every case, is qualified for life. But without the latter, one cannot judge, but is in darkness. And knowledge, without the former, can only serve to create remorse for not taking or not following its counsels. Let them therefore early see the necessity, in order to happiness, in order to have power and liberty, of establishing judgment or reason as the ruler in their minds; and of having their understandings replenished with true and just ideas of all the objects and pursuits in human life, in order to be able to regulate their conduct aright. For what can be more obvious, than that this is the proper business of all who would be timeously prepared for steering wisely through the various rocks and shelves of life, for avoiding dangers and attaining to true happiness? In truth, when the deliberative habit, the patience of thinking before we choose, and the power of resisting fancy till we have brought it to the test of reason and truth, is firmly established in the mind, there will be little hazard of mistaking or erring. For right and wrong, in most circumstances of life, are easily distinguished. We need but ask our own hearts what it becomes us to do, and we will soon perceive, or rather feel what is duty and what not. The foolish choices and pursuits of men, are not so much owing to false judgments, as to the habit of acting precipitantly, and without examining our fancies and appetites. Ask the youngest infant, how he ought to be affected towards the Author of his being, and of all things, who hateth nothing that he hath made, but extends his benevolent care to all his creatures, and he will immediately reply, that he ought to love him, and endeavour to approve himself to him, by imitating his goodness. Ask him what he owes to his parents, what to his brothers and sisters, what to his friends, what to his country, what to all men, and you will find that his own heart will prompt and direct him to just answers; and that a strong sense of the obligations to piety, filial reverence and love, justice, veracity, gratitude, benevolence, immediately exerts itself upon the first proper call, so natural is it to the mind: That is, so right do our affections stand with regard to moral objects, when they are duly tried by them.

The proper study of mankind is man, and for this reason, one who hath the instruction of youth at heart will early direct them to observe all the natural determinations of the mind, such as our determination to distinguish between involuntary and free actions, and to regard ourselves and others as the authors of, and accountable for the latter, and them only: A determination of which we can by no means divest ourselves: a difference which we are necessarily determined to make, and without which we could have no ideas of justice or injustice, blame or merit, because mere accident and designed hurt would affect us in the same manner, did we not make this distinction: And consequently, a determination to be differently affected by the actions of agents, as they are apprehended to be done with or without choice, upon which the whole order of human society, and of all civil intercourse, absolutely depends. Those who delight in puzzling and perplexing clear truths, may argue as subtily as their wit, or rather sophistry can, to prove that men are accountable for none of their actions. But of a necessary determination in our nature to distinguish violence and compulsion from voluntary and free acting, we are as sure as we are of our existence. And the reality of the distinction is certain beyond all dispute, from the double necessity we are under to make it physical and moral. By the former, I mean the insuperable determination of our minds to make a difference, e.g. between the falling of a tile and the voluntary throwing of it: By the latter, the multiplied inconveniencies and absurdities that would follow upon any one’s divesting himself, were it possible, of this determination, and acting as if there was no foundation for it. Another determination in our nature is, to approve free actions that are good or beneficial, and to disapprove such as are ill or hurtful. This determination supposes or includes the former. We do not praise or blame, where we apprehend there was not free choice; but if actions are apprehended to have been done with understanding and election, we are necessarily determined to approve such, if they be kind and contributive to the public weal, and to condemn them if they be unkind and detrimental. The meaning of this, in other words is, That the Author of nature hath designed that good or virtuous actions should immediately, upon a fair view of them, excite our liking and approbation, and vitious ones our dislike and abhorrence; and accordingly, we are necessarily so affected by these moral ideas, as often as they are fully presented to our minds. ’Tis absurd to suppose us not indifferent to them, unless we grant that the Author of nature intended that we should be differently affected by them: For it is to suppose an effect not designed, but taking place without any cause, any foresight and will that it should be. And that originally our affections stand right with regard to good and wrong, however afterwards they may be corrupted or perverted, will be evident from every trial of young minds in this moral way. Paint actions and characters to them of opposite kinds, and you will soon see that their approbation and disapprobation are always quickly and rightly moved, i.e. moved as the public or common good of mankind requires they should. And after these trials, they may easily be led to reflect upon this determination of our minds, to approve and disapprove, and its excellent final cause.

Very near a-kin to this is our determination to receive pleasure from uniformity amidst variety, or in other words, from order, proportion and harmony in sensible objects; which sense, when well improved, is so rich a source of entertainment, being the mother of all the harmonious arts, as they may justly be called, since symmetry, order or harmony is their object and end, architecture, statuary, painting, music, and to a considerable degree, poetry and oratory. It is this determination or sense that qualifies us for admiring and enjoying the beauty and order of nature, and for relishing beauty and order wherever we find it, in art, in writing, in painting, in building, &c. That it originally stands right, that is, towards the beauty which is the effect of regularity and simplicity, will be found by making proper experiments upon young minds; and to what pitch of perfection it may be improved, let the many ingenious, noble productions of the imitative arts witness. And that young minds, after proper trials in this way, may easily be directed to take notice of the excellent final cause of this determination, is too obvious to need any proof, since by it we are disposed to the love of simplicity, neither nature nor art being beautiful, but in consequence of observing this rule, nil frustra, or avoiding superfluous labour, operating in the shortest way, and adding strength to what is principal in every structure or whole. Nor is the connexion between this latter and the moral sense just mentioned, and their mutual tendency to strengthen each other, less manifest, seeing the pursuit of virtue is nothing else but the pursuit of order in the government of the affections, and of order in the frame and government of society.

By a few reflections on these determinations of the human mind, illustrated and confirmed to them by well-chosen examples, they will soon perceive, that man is made for virtue and good order, or to receive his highest and only uncloying gratifications, from outward and inward order and harmony; and that it is the steady pursuit of order and harmony in every particular structure and oeconomy, and in the whole of nature, that is the delightful employment of the eternal all-perfect Mind, from whom all perfections, all beauties, all ideas, senses, determinations, powers and faculties proceed. But in order to make men acquainted with themselves, true philosophy will also lay open to her pupils, all the affections and passions of the human mind, and shew their various manners of operation, and what virtues and vices belong to each of them, and their final ends or causes; why, or for what uses they are implanted in us. Some writers on human nature have much obscured the doctrine of the passions by ways of speaking about them, liable to all the absurdities of supposing ideas in the mind antecedent to experience; and another yet greater, that passions or propensities to objects may precede the ideas of these objects; not to mention a third, viz. that there can be a strong propensity towards an object before one has had repeated views of it, and the imagination hath by these been warmed into a vehement delight in the contemplation of it, and is thereby inflamed with a habitual impatient itching after it. But, in reality, passion means propension, or a strong attachment towards an object, for every passion is a strong inclination or disposition towards an object, engendered and supported by the frequent recoiling of a very strong and warm picture or idea of that object. By the natural constitution or determination of the mind, the idea of fame, e.g. is agreeable to the mind, and exalts our desire. But the image of fame must have been very often repeated, so that the idea of all its sweets and charms is become very lively, and very apt to return into the mind upon every occasion or hint, before the mind can be possessed of a strong propensity to it, able to overcome every other idea. It is the same with regard to power, or with regard to virtue or public good. Power or public good must have often been contemplated by the mind; the images of them must have been deeply engraved upon it by frequent repetition: The mind must have been much warmed by a lively view of their charms, and have by their often recoiling upon it with all their force, contracted a close union, as it were, with them, and a keen tendency towards the pursuit of them. The case is the same with regard to all the other passions of the pleasing or joyful kind; and what hath been said of them may easily be applied to those of the opposite family or class, grief, fear, hatred, &c. called very properly the family of pain.

But this I have mentioned, not that I would have youth perplexed with subtleties, but to shew teachers the necessity of leading youth early to observe, that the aptitude of our minds to be agreeably affected by the images of power, fame, and in general, by all the objects that attract our minds, and the aptitude of our mind to be disagreeably moved by all the objects that are naturally painful to us, and so raise our aversion—That these aptitudes or determinations are of great use, as is likewise the force of association and repetition: But that it is by association and repetition of ideas that desires or aversions are kindled into propensities or passions. That being thus apprized of the manner in which passions are generated, they may learn to be upon their guard against wrong or false associations of ideas, and accustom themselves strictly to examine all their fancies, and the desires raised by them: They may take care that their judgments be just and true, and their desires proportioned to the real natures and values of objects. For thus alone can the growth of sensual passions be prevented; thus alone can true ideas, and true associations of ideas, and true judgments be firmly established in the mind, and passions conformable to them be formed and strengthened. If virtue, and the honour of acting steadily the best, the worthiest part, be the solidest good, then surely ought the passion for virtue, and the glory of adhering to virtue, to be cherished, till it becomes the ruling passion in the mind. But the way to do this, is to impress deeply upon the soul such a full notion of the excellency of virtue, as being habitually present to the mind, shall be able to hold it fast to it, and to bear head against all the allurements of vice, or all the dangers with which virtue may at any time be threatened. Draw the character to him, suppose of an Epaminondas, a Scipio, or a Titus, in whom the love of the public held the ascendent over all other desires so firmly, that nothing was able to shake or corrupt them, and let them know by what close attention to their mind they preserved such a full conviction of the preferableness of integrity to all pomp and pageantry. But let them see likewise, that even where the love of virtue is firmly established, false pleasure of one or other species may, if the guard is relaxed, gradually gain ground, and at last quite efface that glorious passion, and establish into its room the lust of wealth, or any other passion of the basest kind. Shew them how virtuous inclinations grow and strengthen: But shew them likewise how they are weakened, and how the vitious ones get foot and spread, and gradually supplanting their rivals, at last so totally deprave the mind, that the vices which formerly appeared so hideous and abominable that they could not be seen or thought of without horror and detestation, assume at last, if not a smooth and fair, yet a much less frightful appearance. Let youth see all the various turns the same passions take in different circumstances: Let none of the vices that may grow out of any of them, or into which any of them may be perverted, be hid from youth: And far less let the counterfeits of the virtues be concealed from them: But let them early be taught to distinguish generous from base and cruel ambition, true from false courage, and so on with regard to all the other virtues: For the most dangerous enemy to every virtue is that vice which hath the nearest resemblance to it, or can best assume its likeness. Thus only can they be prepared for judging of actions, and the persons concerned in them, when they come to read history. And thus alone can they be seasoned or fortified against the corruptions, snares and dangers of the world. In these lessons, to characters it will be of great use to add proper fables, of which ancient method of teaching we shall afterwards have occasion to treat.

If any one should say, that such philosophical reflections are above the compass of young minds; tho’ we must return again to this subject, and shall then shew, that it is far from being so difficult as is generally imagined, to convey the true philosophy into young minds, besides which there can be no other guide for the right conduct of life; yet let it be just suggested here in the first place, that till we begin to employ them in observing the final causes always aimed at and unerringly attained by nature in all her productions, and from thence to infer the wisdom and goodness of divine providence, in the formation and government of all things, and our obligation to imitate this character; and in observing the final causes of all the senses, powers, faculties and affections belonging to the human mind, together with their perfections and imperfections, or virtues and vices, and in drawing the same conclusion from thence with regard to providence and our duty.—Till we employ youth in such observations, nothing is done to furnish them with real knowledge, and we leave them absolutely in the dark with respect to the science of the greatest importance, and into which therefore they cannot be too early initiated. Till we thus exercise them, nothing is done to give them the best disposition, a propensity towards the most useful enquiry, or a taste and relish of the noblest as well as pleasantest study: And yet while due pains are not taken to form a good and useful temper, ’tis well known that the mind of course will either be contracting wrong habits, by improper exercise, or losing its natural docility, pliableness to instruction and quickness of apprehension. If the mind be not from the beginning well employed, it must take a pernicious turn, or become idle and averse to thought or serious exercise. For the human mind is ever either growing and improving, or shrinking and declining. If it be not advancing towards perfection, and becoming better, it is in this sense, at least, continually becoming worse, that it is daily waxing less capable of improvement. In the second place, I would ask, if they who are so apt to pronounce such institution too deep, or at least too grave and serious for young minds, have made any experiments with respect to the capacity of youth for relishing and entering into moral truths? Tis well known that the parables, fables and allegories with which ancient instructors began in the education of youth, were intended to convey moral maxims into the mind in an agreeable insinuating way. And they must be strangers to them, who think that moral truths are not capable of being rendered very pleasing, of being instilled into and impressed upon the youngest mind, in the most taking and engaging manner. But if this be the knowledge with which they ought early to be tinctured, or towards the love of which their minds ought timeously to be bended, then let teachers of youth use all their invention, and employ all their art to sweeten moral lessons, and make them as entertaining as they must be profitable. Let all the youth read be of this kind. And let not preceptors imagine that there is no way of teaching but in the formal manner of giving a lesson. This is a great mistake in education. By familiar conversation, children’s curiosity may be roused much more effectually, and by it they may be taught a great deal more in a little time, than can possibly be done in the austere magisterial way of calling them to a lecture. I have known boys, before they were seven years of age, acquainted with the figure of our earth, its revolutions round its axis and round the sun, and the more remarkable phenomena arising from these causes, well acquainted with geography, and some part of astronomy, and impatient to understand the science which enables to measure the magnitudes, densities and distances of the planets. And I never found any difficulty in raising their curiosity to know, or in making them understand, for instance, the properties of air and water, upon which sailing depends, and by this means the use of air and winds, and of fresh and salt water—or even in ripping up, as it were, to them the bowels of the earth, and shewing them the various minerals and metals with which they are stored, and the uses of them—in explaining vegetation—or in going on gradually with them through the whole of natural philosophy till they had a pretty good notion of the final causes of most things, and were very desirous of instruction in the science, which is the Key by which men have been enabled to open nature’s mysteries, and discover the laws according to which she works, and according to which human arts produce, and can only produce all their useful effects.—It will not be found difficult to make them conceive, that acquaintance with the properties of streight or curve lines, and with figures of all sorts, must be of great use in unraveling nature, in order to determine the methods in which effects are to be attempted by art, since they may easily be led to understand that all motion is in some line of direction. And desire being once incited to be instructed in this science, as a key to nature, a little practice in it will wonderfully open and enlarge their minds.—But from the final causes of physical appearances, is not the transition to the final causes of moral phenomena, i.e. to the consideration of the human mind, and its powers and affections, and their improvements, very natural? Nothing certainly can be more so. And therefore no lesson or conversation upon any final cause in the natural world ought to be let pass without taking occasion from thence to lead the young scholar to the consideration of the Author of nature, and our duty to him, i.e. our obligation to imitate him, by assiduous endeavours to enlarge our capacity of doing good, and by employing all the powers we have already acquired to the best purpose.

The unity of natural and moral philosophy will appear more fully afterwards. But I must again repeat it, that the great secret of education lies in finding out proper means of making young minds fall in love with useful researches, the enquiries that best become man, because they are of the highest importance to him, viz. researches into the order of the universe, and the good order of the human mind. For besides this one science, there is no true, no solid, no useful knowledge. Many other arts may serve or minister to it: But if this science be neglected, or if one is left an utter stranger to it, however specious his enquiries or occupations may appear to be to himself or others, they are but misleaders from the main and only profitable one. And therefore Cebes, in his allegorical picture of human life, agreeably to the doctrine of his master Socrates, the greatest of mere mortal philosophers, pronounces all other sciences, when separated from the moral science, false learning, and seducers from true wisdom. Need one stay long to convince any reasonable person that the knowledge of words, abstracted from that of things, can be of no value; and that a turn towards merely verbal criticism is one of the most pernicious youth can take. The solidity of mathematics, and its advantage to mankind, is prov’d by many effects of those beneficial arts and sciences which depend on it. But will this knowledge alone qualify for the government of the passions? Or can it, by itself, teach men how to regulate their appetites and conduct their actions? And what availeth the study of outward proportions and harmonies, if these never lead their admirer to serious reflections upon moral order and harmony, the harmony of the divine Mind, and of all his works; and the harmony of affections, which resembles created minds to their Author, and is therefore their glory and happiness. These two studies have naturally a very near connexion and affinity, and may therefore be both pursued at once very consistently. But if one’s whole time be so occupied, even by such geometrical researches as bid fairest for adding to human power, that the knowledge of man himself, and his duties, is entirely neglected, that person, with all his knowledge, must be in profound ignorance with regard to what most concerns him, his inward liberty and happiness; and what is indeed the chief beauty, the supreme harmony, a well-ordered heart and life. Even enquiries into nature herself, if the student rests in the mere physical explications, and is not taught and inured to search for final causes, not only stop short of what ought to be principally attended to; but they, by so doing, mislead from the true philosophy, as we find Socrates8 once and again observing. But of all the pretended sciences, none is more dangerous than that which seemeth to have the divine and human mind for its object; and yet, instead of leading to the knowledge of virtue and duty, habituates the student to take up with subtleties that have never produced, and can indeed never produce any other fruit but contentious jangling about empty puzling paradoxes. Let us hear an excellent author9 upon this subject, whose censures have a far better claim to be hearkened to than mine. “If in the literate world, saith he, there be any chocking weed, any thing purely thorn or thistle, ’tis in all likelihood that very kind of plant which stands for philosophy in some famous schools. There can be nothing more ridiculous than to expect manners or understanding should sprout from such a stock. It pretends, indeed, some relation to manners, as being definitive of the natures, essences, and properties of spirits; and some relation to reason, as describing the shapes and forms of certain instruments employed in the reasoning art. But had the craftiest of men for many ages together been employed to find out a method to confound reason, and degrade the understanding of mankind, they could not perhaps have succeeded better than by the establishment of such a mock-science.—The philosopher who pretends to be wholly taken up in considering his higher faculties, and examining the powers and principles of his understanding; if, in reality his philosophy be foreign to the matter profess’d; if it goes besides the mark, and reaches nothing we can truly call our interest or concern, it must be somewhat worse than mere ignorance or idiotism. The most ingenious way of becoming foolish is by a system. And the surest method to prevent good sense is to set up something in the room of it. The liker any thing is to wisdom, if it be not plainly the thing itself, the more directly it becomes its opposite.—If a passenger should turn by chance into a watch-maker’s shop, and thinking to inform himself concerning watches, should enquire of what metal, or what matter each part was composed? what gave the colours, or what made the sounds? without examining what the real use was of such an instrument, or by what movements its end was best attained, and its perfection acquired: ’Tis plain that such an examiner as this would come short of any understanding in the real nature of the instrument. Should a philosopher, after the same manner, employing himself in the study of human nature, discover only what effects each passion wrought upon the body; what change of aspect or features they produced, and what different manner they affected the limbs and muscles; this might possibly qualify him to give advice to an anatomist or a limner, but not to mankind or himself: Since, according to this survey, he considered not the real operation or energy of his subject, nor contemplated the man as real man, and as a human agent; but as a watch or common machine. The passion of fear (as a modern philosopher informs me) determines the spirits to the muscles of the knees, which are instantly ready to perform their motion, by taking up the legs with incomparable celerity, in order to remove the body out of harm’s way.—Excellent mechanism! But whether the knocking together of the knees be any more the cowardly symptom of flight, than the chattering of the teeth is the stout symptom of resistance, I shall not take upon me to determine. In this whole subject of enquiry, I shall find nothing of the least self-concernment. And I may depend upon it, that by the most refined speculation of this kind, I shall neither learn to diminish my fears or raise my courage. This, however, I may be assured of, that ’tis the nature of fear, as well as of other passions, to have its increase and decrease as it is fed by opinion, and influenced by custom and practice.

“These passions, according as they have the ascendency in me, and differ in proportion with one another, affect my character, and make me different with respect to myself and others. I must therefore, of necessity, find redress and improvement in this case, by reflecting justly on the manner of my own motion, as guided by affections, which depend so much upon apprehension and conceit. By examining the various turns, inflexions, declensions, and inward revolutions of the passions, I must undoubtedly come the better to understand a human breast, and judge the better both of others and myself. ’Tis impossible to make the least advancement in such a study, without acquiring some advantage from the regulation and government of those passions on which the conduct of life depends. For instance, if superstition be the sort of fear which most oppresses, ’tis not very material to enquire, on these occasions, to what parts or districts the blood or spirits are immediately detach’d, or where they are made to rendezvous. For this no more imports me to understand, than it depends on me to regulate or change. But when the grounds of this superstitious fear are considered to be from opinion, and the subjects of it come to be thoroughly searched and examined; the passion itself must necessarily diminish, as I discover more and more the imposture which belongs to it. In the same manner, if vanity be from opinion, and I consider how vanity is conceived, from what imaginary advantages, and inconsiderable grounds, if I view it in its excessive height, as well as in its contrary depression, ’tis impossible I should not, in some measure, be relieved of this distemper.

“The same must happen in respect of anger, ambition, love, desire, and the other passions, from whence I frame the different notions I have of interest: For as these passions veer, my interest veers, my steerage varies, and I make alternately now this, now that, to be my course and harbour. The man in anger has a different happiness from the man in love; and the man lately become covetous has a different notion of satisfaction from what he had before when he was liberal. Even the man in humour has another thought of interest and advantage than the man out of humour, or in the least disturb’d. The examination therefore of my humours, and the enquiry after my passions, must necessarily draw along with it the search and scrutiny of my opinions, and the sincere consideration of my scope and end. And because the study of human affections cannot fail of leading me towards the knowledge of human nature and of myself, this is the philosophy which by nature has the pre-eminence above all other science or knowledge. Nor can this, surely, be of the sort call’d vain or deceitful, since it is the only means by which I can discover vanity and deceit. This is not of that kind which depends on genealogies or traditions, and ministers questions and vain janglings. It has not its name, as other philosophies, from the mere subtlety and nicety of the speculation, but by way of excellence, from its being superior to all other speculations, from its presiding over all other sciences and occupations, teaching the measure of each, and assigning the just value of every thing in life.—This gives to every inferior science its just rank; leaves some to measure sounds, others to scan syllables, others to weigh vacuums and define spaces and extensions, but reserves to herself her due authority and majesty, keeps her state and ancient title of, Vitae Dux, virtutis indagatrix,11 and the rest of those just appellations which of old belong’d to her, when she merited to be apostrophiz’d as she was by the orator, ‘Tu inventrix legum, tu magistra morum & disciplinarum.—Est autem unus dies bene & ex praeceptis tuis actus peccanti immortalitati anteponendus.’12 Excellent mistress! But easy to be mistaken! whilst so many hundreds wear as illustrious apparel, and some are made to outshine her in dress and ornament.

“In reality, how specious a study, how solemn an amusement is raised from what we call philosophical speculations? The formation of ideas, their compositions, comparisons, agreements and disagreements!—What can have a better appearance, or bid fairer for genuine and true philosophy?— But if by all this I cannot learn how to ascertain my ideas, and keep my opinion, liking and esteem of things the same—where, philosopher! are thy ideas? where is truth, and certainty, and evidence so much talk’d of? ’Tis here, surely, they are to be maintain’d, if any where. ’Tis here I am to preserve some just distinctions and adequate ideas, which, if I cannot do a jot the more by what such philosophy can teach me, the philosophy is in this respect imposing and delusive. For whatever its other virtues are, it relates not to me myself, it concerns not the man, nor any other ways affects the mind, than by the conceit of knowledge, and the false assurance rais’d from a suppos’d improvement.—Philosopher, let me hear concerning what is of some moment to me. Let me hear concerning life, what the right notion is, and what I am to stand to upon occasion; that I may not, when life seems retiring, or has wore itself to the very dregs, cry vanity! Condemn the world, and at the same time complain, that life is short and passing! For why so short, if not found sweet? Why do I complain both ways? Is vanity, mere vanity, a happiness? Or can misery pass away too soon? This is of moment to me to examine. This is worth my while. If, on the other side, I cannot find the agreement or disagreement of my ideas in this place, if I can come to nothing certain here, what is all the rest to me? What signifies it how I come by my ideas, or how compound them, which are simple, and which complex? If I have a right idea of life now, when perhaps I think lightly of it, and resolve with myself, ‘That it may easily be laid down on any honourable occasion of service to my friends, or country, teach me how I may preserve this idea; or at least, how I may get safely rid of it, that it may trouble me no more, nor lead me into ill adventures.’ Teach me how I came by such an opinion of worth and virtue; what it is, that at one time raises it so high, and at another reduces it to nothing; how these disturbances and fluctuations happen? By what innovation, what composition, what intervention of other ideas? If this be the subject of the philosophical art, I readily apply to it, and embrace the study. If there be nothing of this in the case, I have no occasion for this sort of learning, and am no more desirous of knowing how I form or compound those ideas which are marked by words, than I am of knowing how, and by what motions of my tongue or palate I form those articulate sounds, which I can full as well pronounce, without any such science or speculation.”

chapter ii

Concerning the formation of good habits in young minds; the proper methods of cultivating virtuous dispositions; and the practices by which the vices are early engendered and strengthened, and of the best means for correcting and reforming them.

What we have hitherto been recommending is not instruction in any particular notional system of opinions or tenets, but in facts relating to the frame and government of the natural world, and to the constitution of the human mind of the greatest importance, ascertainable by experience only, and to be deduced and confirmed from thence; and which, tho’ of different kinds, are so closely connected, that the transition from observations of either kind to the other is exceeding easy and natural. And we have not yet finished this article, but must return to it again, and treat more fully of the true philosophy, and the best methods of instructing youth in it. However, before we go further, because a great deal may be done towards the right formation of youth, of the last consequence to their happiness, before they can understand maxims or rules; nay, because, unless the mind be prepared for wholesome instruction by previous culture, instruction will fare like good seed cast into foul, weedy or stony ground, we shall therefore here treat a little of what ought to be the first and most early care in education, the formation of a right temper, by carefully nursing and cherishing good dispositions in young minds. Socrates, and other ancients, seem to have had particular pleasure in running a parallel between agriculture and the improvement of the mind: But in no respect does the comparison or likeness hold more exactly than in this, that as the ground must be properly prepared for the reception and nourishment of good seed, so the mind must by apposite care be moulded into a fit temperament or disposition for embracing and cherishing the seeds of good doctrine. In both cases, the first or previous care is of the greatest moment. Instruction will be but thrown away, it cannot sink into the mind, or take firm root there, so as to fructify, if the mind be not pure and clean, pliable, or docile and open to truth and knowledge, but will quickly be chocked by the opposite illiberal temperature. The human mind cannot continue long quite a tabula rasa; some images must of course be gaining upon its affections, and consequently, forming some propensities or habits. And we may leave it to any thinking person, who is acquainted with the world, and has but reflected, that reason must be artfully invited and drawn forth into action, and requires much culture in order to ripen and strengthen it, whereas our senses, from the first dawn of life, are continually assailed by outward objects, and speedily rush up to their maturity.—We may leave to such to judge what chance there is for the virtues getting the start of all vitious appetites and habits in young minds, if particular care be not taken, from their first entrance into the world, of adhibiting proper culture and discipline, and of steadily watching and directing all their ideas, desires and movements. Some philosophers, indeed, have represented vice as cogenial with the mind, not considering how absurd it is to suppose a work to come depraved and vitiated from the hands of the all-perfect Creator, were it conceivable, as it is not, that habits or passions of any kind could precede ideas, or be engendered otherwise than by association of ideas and repetition of acts. But, on the contrary, it is virtue, not vice, that is natural to the mind, in any sense that any habit can be said to be so, since originally the affections in the human mind stand right with regard to moral objects; since long before we are able to reason or draw inferences, from the first moment that good actions and characters are set before or perceived by us, virtue is a fair and lovely species, and immediately begets our esteem and approbation, whereas vice is an ugly form, and creates our aversion and abhorrence. There is no necessity of supposing the mind naturally biassed towards vice, in order to account for the ill humours, the crossness and peevishness, or the sensuality and interestedness and lust of power which so early discover themselves in children. If we but consider not only to whom the care of the nursery is generally committed, and with whom children are most habitually conversant, but even the common methods of conduct in very wise and good parents themselves towards their infants, our wonder at the general early corruption of young minds will cease, and we will find that tutors and preceptors have ground to complain, that their task is weeding work; and that children are given into their hands not to be educated, but to be cleansed and purged from bad habits, which, till they are effaced and rooted out, shut the door against all sound instruction, or disappoint the effects of the best teaching. For in what vice are not children generally trained up? or what evil affection is not fostered and cherished in their minds? I have elsewhere13 treated of this subject at some length; and therefore I shall here only transcribe a few observations upon it from an excellent author,14 well worth the most attentive perusal of parents, and all who are employed in the important business of forming youth. And is it not indeed very strange, that the power of habit or custom should be so universally known and confessed, and yet that so little attention should be paid to this very powerful principle in the institution of youth?

“The great mistake, says he, I have observed in people’s breeding their children, is that care hath not been taken, in its due season, to render their minds obedient to discipline and pliant to reason, when at first they were most tender and easy to be bowed. Parents being wisely ordained by nature to love their children, are very apt, if reason watch not that natural affection very warily, to let it run into fondness. They love their little ones, and it is their duty: But they often with them cherish their faults too. They must not be crossed, forsooth, they must be permitted to have their wills in all things; and they being in their infancy not capable of great vices, their parents think they may safely enough indulge their little irregularities, and make themselves sport with that pretty perverseness which they think well enough becomes that innocent age. But to a fond parent, that would not have his child corrected for a perverse trick, but excused it, saying, it was a small matter, Solon very well replied, ‘Ay, but custom is a great one.’ The fondling must be taught to strike, and call names, must have what he cries for, and do what he pleases. Thus parents, by humouring and cockering them when little, corrupt the principles of nature in their children, and wonder afterwards to taste the bitter waters when they themselves have poisoned the fountain. For when their children are grown up, and these ill habits with them, when they are now too big to be dandled, and their parents can no longer make use of them as play-things, then they complain that the brats are untoward and perverse; then they are offended to see them wilful, and are troubled with those ill humours which they themselves infused and fomented in them; and then, perhaps too late, would be glad to get out those weeds which their own hands have planted, and which now have taken too deep root to be easily extirpated. For he that has been used to have his will in every thing, as long as he was in coats, why should we think it strange, that he should desire it, and contend for it still when he is in breeches? Indeed, as he grows more towards a man, age shews his faults the more, so that there be few parents then so blind as not to see them; few so insensible as not to feel the ill effects of their own indulgence. He had the will of his mind before he could speak or go; he had the mastery of his parents ever since he could prattle; and why, now he is grown up, and is stronger and wiser than he was then, why now of a sudden must he be restrained and curbed? Why must he at seven, fourteen, or twenty years old, lose the privilege which the parents indulgence till then so largely allowed him? Try it in a dog, or a horse, or any other creature, and see whether the ill and resty tricks they have learned when young, are easily to be mended when they are knit; and yet none of those creatures are half so wilful and proud, or half so desirous to be masters of themselves and others, as man. We are generally wise enough to begin with them when they are very young, and discipline betimes those other creatures we would make useful and good for somewhat. They are only our own offspring that we neglect in this point; and having made them ill children, we foolishly expect they should be good men. For if the child must have grapes and sugar-plumbs, when he has a-mind to them, rather than make the poor baby cry, or be out of humour; when he is grown up, must he not be satisfied too, if his desires carry him to wine and women? They are objects as suitable to the longing of one of more years, as what he cried for, when little, was to the inclinations of a child. The having desires accommodated to the apprehensions and relish of these several ages, is not the fault, but the not having them subject to the rules and restraints of reason: The difference lies not in the having or not having appetites, but in the power to govern or deny ourselves in them. He that is not used to submit his will to the reason of others, when he is young, will scarce hearken or submit to his own reason, when he is of an age to make use of it. And what a kind of man such a one is like to prove, is easy to foresee.

“These are oversights usually committed by those who seem to take the greatest care of their children’s education. But if we look into the common management of children, we shall have reason to wonder, in the great dissoluteness of manners which the world complains of, that there are any footsteps at all left of virtue. I desire to know what vice can be named, which parents, and those about children do not reason them into, and drop into them the seeds of, as soon as they are capable to receive them.

“Our author observes how they are taught, and encouraged in cruelty and violence; how their vanity and love of dress is fostered; and then he adds: Those of the meaner sort are hindered by the straitness of their fortunes from encouraging intemperance in their children, by the temptation of their diet, or invitations to eat and drink more than enough. But their own ill examples, whenever plenty comes in their way, shew that ’tis not the dislike of drunkenness and gluttony that keeps them from excess, but want of materials. But if we look into the houses of those who are a little warmer in their fortunes, their eating and drinking are made so much the business and happiness of life, that children are thought neglected if they have not their share of it. Sauces and ragousts, and food disguised by all the arts of cookery, must tempt their palates, when their bellies are full: And then, for fear the stomach should be overcharged, a pretence is found for t’other glass of wine to help digestion, tho’ it only serves to increase the surfeit. Is my young master a little out of order, the first question is, what will my dear eat? What shall I get for thee? Eating and drinking are instantly pressed: And every body’s invention is set on work to find out something luscious and delicate enough to prevail over the want of appetite, which nature has wisely ordered in the beginning of distempers, as a defence against their increase, that being freed from the ordinary labour of digesting any new load in the stomach, she may be at leisure to correct and master the peccant humours. And where children are so happy in the case of their parents, as by their prudence to be kept from the excess of their tables, to the sobriety of a plain and simple diet; yet there too, they are scarce to be preserved from the contagion that poisons the mind; tho’ by a discreet management, while they are under their tuition, their healths may perhaps be pretty well secured, yet their desires must needs yield to the lessons which every where will be read to them upon this part of epicurism. The commendation that eating well has every where, cannot fail to be a successful incentive to natural appetite, and bring them quickly to the liking and expence of a fashionable table. This shall have from every one, even the reprovers of vice, the title of living well. And what shall sullen reason dare to say against the public testimony? Or can it hope to be heard, if it should call that luxury which is so much owned, and universally practiced by those of the best quality? This is now so grown a vice, and has so great supports, that I know not whether it does not put in for the name of virtue, and whether it will not be thought folly, or want of knowledge of the world, to open one’s mouth against it. And truly I should suspect, that what I have here said of it might be censured as a little satire out of my way, did I not mention it with this view, that it might awaken the care and watchfulness of parents in the education of their children: when they see how they are beset on every side, not only with temptations but instructors to vice, and that perhaps in those they thought places of security. I shall not dwell any longer on this subject, much less run over all the particulars, that would shew what pains are used to corrupt children, and instil principles of vice into them. But I desire parents soberly to consider what irregularity or vice there is, which children are not visibly taught, and whether it be not their duty and wisdom to provide them other instructors.”

This author after these remarks, which will lead every thinking person to many others of the same kind, goes on to consider how good habits may be formed in young minds.15 “It seems plain to me, says he, that the principle of all virtue and excellency lies in the power of denying ourselves the satisfaction of our own desires, where reason does not authorize them. This power is to be got and improved by custom, and made easy and familiar by an early practice. If therefore I might be heard, I would advise, that contrary to the ordinary way, children should be used to submit their desires, and go without their longings, even from their very cradles. The very first thing they should learn to know should be, that they were not to have any thing, because it pleased them, but because it was thought fit for them. If things suitable to their wants were supplied to them, so that they were never suffered to have what they once cried for, they would learn to be content without it; would never with bawling and peevishness contend for mastery; nor be half so uneasy to themselves and others as they are, because from the beginning they are not thus handled. I say not this, as if children were not to be indulged in any thing, or that I expected they should in hanging-sleeves, have the reason and conduct of counsellors. I consider them as children who must be tenderly used, who must play and have play-things. That which I mean is, that whenever they craved what was not fit for them to have or do, they should not be permitted it, because they were little and desired it. Nay, whatever they were importunate for, they should be sure, for that very reason, to be denied. The younger they are, the less, I think, are their unruly and disorderly appetites to be complied with; and the less reason they have of their own, the more are they to be under the absolute power of those in whose hands they are. From which, I confess it will follow, that none but discreet people should be about them. If the world commonly does otherwise, I cannot help that. I am saying what I think should be, which if it were already in fashion, I should not need to trouble the world with a discourse on this subject. But yet I doubt not, but when it is considered, there will be others of opinion with me, that the sooner this way is begun with children, the easier it will be for them and their governors too. And that this ought to be observed as an inviolable maxim, That whatever once is denied them, they are certainly not to attain it by crying or importunity, unless one has a mind to teach them to be impatient and troublesome, by rewarding them for it when they are so. Those, therefore, that intend ever to govern their children should begin it whilst they are very little, and look that they perfectly comply with the will of their parents. Would you have your son obedient to you when past a child? Be sure then to establish the authority of a father, as soon as he is capable of submission, and can understand in whose power he is. If you would have him to stand in awe of you, imprint it in his infancy; and as he approaches more to a man, admit him nearer to your familiarity: So shall you have him your obedient subject, as is fit, whilst he is a child, and your affectionate friend when he is a man. For methinks they mightily misplace the treatment due to their children, who are indulgent and familiar when they are little, but severe to them, and keep them at a distance when they are grown up. For liberty and indulgence can do no good to children: Their want of judgment makes them stand in need of restraint and discipline. And, on the contrary, imperiousness and severity is but an ill way of treating men, who have reason of their own to guide them, unless you have a mind to make your children, when grown up, weary of you, and secretly wish your death.—If a strict hand be kept over children from the beginning, they will in that age be tractable, and quietly submit to it, as never having known any other: And if, as they grow up to use of reason, the rigour of government, be, as they deserve it, greatly relaxed, the father’s brow more smoothed to them, and the distance by degrees abated, his former restraints will increase their love, when they find it was only a kindness to them, and a care to make them capable to deserve the favour of their parents, and the esteem of every body else. Thus much for the settling your authority over your children in general. Fear and awe ought to give you the first power over their minds, love and friendship in riper years to hold it: For the time must come when they will be past the rod and correction; and then, if the love of you make them not obedient and dutiful, if the love of virtue and reputation keep them not in laudable courses, I ask what hold will you have upon them to turn them to it? Indeed, fear of having a scanty portion if they displease you, may make them slaves to your estate, but they will be never the less ill and wicked in private; and that restraint will not last always. Every man must some time or other be trusted to himself and his own conduct; and to be a good, a virtuous and able man, one must be made so within. And therefore, what he is to receive from education, what is to sway and influence his life, must be something put into him betimes: Habits woven into the very principles of his nature, and not a counterfeit carriage and dissembled outside, put on by fear, only to avoid the present anger of a father, who may perhaps disinherit him. This being laid down in general, as the course that ought to be taken, ’tis fit we now come to consider the parts of the discipline to be used. I have spoken so much of carrying a strict hand over children, that perhaps, I shall be suspected of not considering enough, what is due to their tender age and constitutions. But that opinion will vanish when you have heard me a little farther. For I am very apt to think, that great severity of punishment does but very little good, nay great harm in education: And I believe it will be found, that caeteris paribus, those children who have been most chastised, seldom make the best men. All that I have hitherto contended for is, That whatsoever rigour is necessary, it is more to be used the younger children are, and having by a due application wrought its effect, it is to be relaxed and changed into a milder sort of government. A compliance and suppleness of their wills being, by a steady hand, introduced by parents, before children have memories to retain the beginnings of it, will seem natural to them, and work afterwards in them, as if it were so, preventing all occasions of struggling or repining. The only care is, that it be begun early, and inflexibly kept to, till awe and respect be grown familiar, and there appears not the least reluctancy in the submission and ready obedience of their minds. When this reverence is once thus established (which it must be early, or else it will cost pains and blows to recover it, the longer it is deferred) ’tis by it, mixed still with as much indulgence as they made not an ill use of, and not by beating, chiding, or servile punishments, they are for the future to be governed, as they grow up to more understanding.” Our author, after bringing several arguments to prove that corporal punishment contributes not at all to the mastery of our natural propensity to indulge present pleasure, and to avoid pain at any rate, but rather encourages it, and thereby strengthens that in us which is the root from whence spring all vitious actions and all the irregularities of life. That this sort of correction naturally breeds an aversion to that which ’tis the tutor’s business to create a liking to.—And if it does prevail, and works a cure upon the present unruly distemper, it is often bringing in the room of it a worse and more dangerous disease, by breaking the mind, or producing a slavish temper and dissimulation—he proceeds to observe:16 “On the other side, to flatter children, by rewards of things that are pleasant to them, is as carefully to be avoided. For this but authorizes the child’s love of pleasure, and cockers up that dangerous propensity which we ought by all means to subdue and stifle in him. You can never hope to teach him to master it, whilst you compound for the check you give his inclination in one place, by the satisfaction you propose to it in another. To make a good, a wise, or a virtuous man, ’tis fit he should learn to cross his appetite, and deny his inclination to riches, finery, or pleasing his palate, &c. But when you draw him to do any thing that is fit, by the offer of money, or reward the pains of learning his book by the pleasure of a luscious morsel, when you promise him a lace-cravat, or a fine new suit, upon the performance of some of his little tasks, what do you, by proposing these rewards, but allow them to be good things he should aim at, and thereby encourage his longing for them, and accustom him to place his happiness in them.—I say not this, that I would have children kept from the conveniencies or pleasures of life, that are not injurious to their health or virtue. On the contrary, I would have their lives made as pleasant and as agreeable to them as may be, by a plentiful enjoyment of whatsoever might innocently delight them, provided it be with this caution, that they have those enjoyments, only as the consequences of the state of esteem and acceptation they are in with the parents and governors; but they should never be offered or bestowed on them as the rewards of this or that particular performance, that they shew an aversion to, or to which they would not have applied themselves without that temptation.—Rewards, I grant, and punishments must be proposed to children, if we intend to work upon them. The mistake, I imagine is, that those that are generally made use of, are ill-chosen. The pains and pleasures of the body, are, I think, of ill consequence, when made the rewards and punishments whereby men would prevail on their children. For, as I said before, they serve but to increase and strengthen those inclinations, which it is our business to subdue and master. What principle of virtue do you lay in a child, if you will remedy his desire of one pleasure by the proposal of another? This is but to enlarge his appetite and instruct it to wander. By this way of proceeding, you foment and cherish in him that which is the spring from whence all the evil flows, which will be sure on the next occasion to break out again with more violence, give him stronger longings, and you more trouble. The rewards and punishments then, whereby we should keep children in order, are quite of another kind, and of that force, that when we can get them once to work, the business, I think, is done, and the difficulty is over. Esteem and disgrace are of all others the most powerful incentives to the mind, when once it is brought to relish them. If you can once get into children a love of credit, and an apprehension of shame and disgrace, you have put into them the true principle, which will constantly work and incline them to the right.—Children, earlier perhaps than we think, are very sensible of praise and commendation. They find pleasure in being esteemed and valued, especially by their parents, and those whom they depend on. If therefore the father caress and commend them when they do well, shew a cold and neglectful countenance when they do ill, and this accompanied by a like carriage of the mother, and all others that are about them, will in a little time make them sensible of the difference; and this, if constantly observed, I doubt not but will of itself work more than threats and blows, which lose their force when once grown common, and are of no use when shame does not attend them. But to make the sense of esteem or disgrace sink the deeper and be of more weight, other agreeable or disagreeable things should constantly accompany these different states, not as particular rewards and punishments of this or that particular action, but as necessarily belonging to, and constantly attending one, who by his carriage has brought himself into a state of disgrace or commendation. By this way of treating them, children will, as much as possible, be brought to conceive, that those that are commended, and in esteem for doing well, are necessarily beloved and cherished by every body, and have all other good things as a consequence of it, and on the other side, that when any one by miscarriage falls into disesteem, and cares not to preserve his credit, he will unavoidably fall under neglect and contempt; and in that state, the want of whatever might satisfy or delight him will follow. In this way, the objects of their desires are made assisting to virtue; when a settled experience from the beginning teaches children, that the things they delight in, belong to, and are to be enjoyed by those only who are in a state of reputation. If by these means you come once to shame them out of their faults (for besides that I would willingly have no punishment) and make them in love with the pleasure of being well thought on, you may turn them as you please, and they will be in love with all the ways of virtue. Concerning reputation, I shall only remark this one thing more, That tho’ it be not the true principle and measure of virtue (for that is the knowledge of a man’s duty, and the satisfaction it is to obey his Maker in following the dictates of that light God has given him, with the hopes of acceptation and reward) yet it is that which comes nearest to it; and being the testimony and applause that other people’s reason, as it were by a common consent, gives to virtuous well-ordered actions, it is the proper guide and encouragement of children, till they grow able to judge for themselves, and to find what is right by their own reason. This consideration may direct parents how to manage themselves in reproving and commending their children. The rebukes and chidings which their faults will sometimes make hardly to be avoided, should not only be in grave, sober, and compassionate words, but also alone and in private. But the commendations children deserve, they should receive before others. This doubles the reward by spreading their praise: The backwardness shewn in divulging their faults will make them set a greater value on their credit themselves, and teach them to be more careful to preserve the good opinion of others, whilst they think they have it. But when being exposed to shame, by publishing their miscarriages, they give it up for lost, that check upon them is taken off; and they will be the less earnest to preserve others good thoughts of them, the more that they suspect their reputation with them is already blemished.”

Thus we see education must begin, in order to gain its ends, much more early than is commonly imagined, otherwise the nursery will so spoil and corrupt children, that it will hardly be possible ever to reclaim or reform them. ’Tis in vain to heap rules on children; ’tis impossible for poor little ones to remember a tenth part of them, much less to observe them. But would you have them speak, read, pronounce, and behave gracefully, let them be formed by good example and practice, to intelligent graceful speaking and reading, and genteel behaviour. “Pray remember,” says Mr. Locke,17 for it is from his treatise on education I have been all this while copying, “children are not to be taught by rules which will be always slipping out of their memories. What you think fit for them to do, settle in them by an indispensible practice, as often as the occasion returns, and if it be possible, make occasions. This will beget habits in them, which, being once established, operate of themselves easily and naturally, without the assistance of the memory. But here let me give two cautions. 1. The one is that you keep them to the practice of what you would have grow into a habit in them by kind words and gentle admonitions, rather as minding them of what they forget, than by harsh rebukes and chiding, as if they were wilfully guilty. 2. Another thing you are to take care of is, not to endeavour to settle too many habits at once, lest by variety you confound them, and so perfect none. When constant custom has made any one thing easy and natural to them, and they practice it without reflection, you may then go on to another. By this method of treating children, by a repeated practice, we shall see whether what is required of a child be adapted to his capacity, and any way suited to the child’s natural genius and constitution. For that too must be considered in a right education. We must not hope wholly to change their original tempers, nor make the gay pensive and grave, nor the melancholly sportive without spoiling them. God has stamp’d certain characters upon men’s minds, which, like their shapes, may, perhaps, be a little mended, but can hardly be totally altered and transformed into the contrary. He therefore, that is about children, should well study their natures and aptitudes, and see by often trials what turn they easily take, and what becomes them; observe what their native stock is, how it may be improved, and what it is fit for: He should consider what they want, whether they be capable of having it wrought into them by industry, and incorporated there by practice, and whether it be worth while to endeavour it. For in many cases, all that we can do, or should aim at, is to make the best of what nature has given, to prevent the vices and faults to which such a constitution is most inclined, and give it all the advantage it is capable of. Every one’s natural genius should be carried as far as it can, but to attempt the putting another upon him will be but labour in vain. And what is so plaister’d on, will at last sit but untowardly, and have always hanging to it the ungracefulness of restraint and affectation. Affectation is not, I confess, an early fault of childhood, or the product of untaught nature: It is of that sort of weeds which grow not in the wild uncultivated waste, but in garden-plots under the negligent hand, or unskilful care of a gardener. Management and instruction, and some sense of the necessity of breeding, are requisite to make any one capable of affectation, which endeavours to correct natural defects, and has always the laudable aim of pleasing, tho’ it always misses it, and the more it labours to put on gracefulness, the farther it is from it. For this reason, it is the more carefully to be watched, because it is the proper fault of education, a perverted education indeed, but such as young people often fall into, either by their own mistake, or the ill conduct of those about them. He that will examine wherein that gracefulness lies which always pleases, will find it arises from that natural coherence which appears between the thing done and such a temper of mind as cannot but be approved of as suitable to the occasion. We cannot but be pleased with an humane, friendly, civil temper, wherever we meet with it. A mind free, and master of itself and all its actions, not low and narrow, not haughty and insolent, not blemished with any great defect, is what every one is taken with. The actions which naturally flow from such a well-formed mind, please us also, as the genuine marks of it; and being, as it were, natural emanations from the spirit within, cannot but be easy and unconstrained. This seems to me to be that beauty which shines through some men’s actions, sets off all they do, and takes with all they come near, when, by a constant practice they have fashioned their carriage, and made all those little expressions of civility and respect which nature or custom has established in conversation so easy to themselves, that they seem not artificial or studied, but naturally to flow from a sweetness of mind, and a well-turned disposition. Affectation, on the other side, is an awkward and forced imitation of what should be genuine and easy, wanting the beauty that accompanies what is natural, because there is always a disagreement between the outward action and the mind within, one of these two ways; either, when a man would outwardly put on a disposition of mind, which then he really has not, but endeavours by a forced carriage to make a shew of, yet so, that the constraint he is under discovers itself: And thus men affect sometimes to appear sad, merry, or kind, when in truth they are not so. The other is, when they do not endeavour to make shew of dispositions which they have not, but to express those they have by a carriage not suited to them: And such in conversation are all constrained motions, actions, words or looks, which, tho’ designed to shew their respect or civility to the company, or their satisfaction and easiness in it, are not yet natural nor genuine marks of the one or the other, but rather of some defect or mistake within. Imitation of others, without discerning what is graceful in them, or what is peculiar to their characters, often makes a great part of this. But affectation of all kinds, whencesoever it proceeds, is always offensive; because we naturally hate whatever is counterfeit, and condemn those who have nothing better to recommend themselves by. Plain rough nature left to itself, is much better than an artificial ungracefulness, and such studied ways of being ill-fashioned. The want of an accomplishment, or some defect in our behaviour, coming short of the utmost gracefulness, often escapes observation and censure. But affectation, in any part of our carriage, is lighting up a candle to our defects, and never fails to make us be taken notice of, as either wanting sense, or wanting sincerity. This governors ought the more diligently to look after; because, as I have above observed, it is an acquired ugliness, owing to mistaken education, few being guilty of it, but those who pretend to breeding, and would not be thought ignorant of what is fashionable and becoming in conversation. And if I mistake not, it has often taken its rise from the lazy admonitions of those who give rules, and propose examples without joining practice with their instructions, and making their pupils repeat the action in their sight, that they may correct what is indecent or constrained in it, till it be perfected into an habitual and becoming easiness.”

Our author goes on in the same manner, shewing how civility, deference, liberality, fortitude, and every virtue may early be formed in young minds. What I have quoted from him will send those who are in earnest about the education of their children to his excellent work itself, and lead the thinking into a very useful train of reflections on this important subject. And his observations upon this more essential part of education are compleat; nothing can be added to them.

A skilful tutor, who understands the anatomy, so to speak, of the human mind, the several natures, and the mutual bearings and dependencies of our affections, and that sound balance of them, in which the health, the vigour, the beauty and grace of the mind consist, will take, or rather make occasions for drawing them all forth, after their proper objects and in their proper tones; he will teach his pupil to admire, and to love, to compassionate, and even to be angry in due measures and on fit occasions. He will carefully nourish love of truth, desire of knowledge, aversion to falshood and cruelty, a manly intrepidity, and a sweet yet not servile complaisance and docility. And these qualities make a proper soil for receiving instructions: In such minds, the seeds of wisdom will find a warm and friendly reception, take firm root, and soon bring forth the most excellent fruits. But till such a temper as hath been described is become habitual, natural, for custom is a second nature, the mind is hard and impenetrable, light and sandy, or rank with poisonous weeds; and therefore instructions will either make no impressions, be quickly dissipated, or chocked and corrupted. Our Saviour’s parable of the sower18 is an excellent similitude or allegory for the illustration and confirmation of this important truth. When the precepts of virtue, for these are the good seed he came to sow, are heard carelessly and without regard, so that the first idle fancy or wanton appetite quickly drives them out of the mind, they are as seed that falls upon the beaten road, and never entering at all into the ground is picked up by the birds.—If they meet with a genius that snatches them up through the love of novelty, but hath not constancy or firmness enough to weigh and ponder them, and so deeply enforce and rivet them upon the heart, they are as seed that falls upon ground, where the earth being very shallow, it springs up indeed very quickly, but having no depth of root, as soon as the sun shines hot, it withers away: in this case the smallest amusement carries off the mind, and the good seed abideth not.—But if the mind be over-run with carnal desires, instruction is then like seed that falls among weeds and thorns, which springing up with it, overgrow and kill it.—Finally, a well-disposed mind, not disturbed by irregular passions, but deeply impregnated with the love of truth, knowledge and virtue, firmly and warmly embraces good precepts and institutions; and there the seed dies not but is fruitful, and like corn that falls into a good, well manured, clean soil, bringeth forth a plentiful, a beautiful, an useful harvest. By proper care the temper may be formed before children are capable of understanding rules or reasonings. And indeed, if it is not, it is as absurd to expect much from lessons, as for the husbandman to hope for a good crop from the good grain he sows, if he hath been at no previous pains to dress and prepare his fields. This is an essential part in both husbandries. But yet in education who thinks of it? Who dreams of extending their concern about children even to their birth, by proper care about the first objects and ideas that are presented to their minds, and the exercise, discipline, or training of their appetites and passions? Who considers it as the essential part of education, to convey proper ideas early into young minds, or by fit means of trial and exercise to teach due affections to sprout, pullulate and strengthen? This, however, is the principal art: Nor will it be found a difficult one, by any who is conversant in the structure of the human mind, and the manners in which associations of ideas are formed, and passions are called forth into exercise. Right practice is the chief thing, as our Author observes. Let them have good example continually before their eyes, and let them be encouraged to imitate it, and to reiterate good actions by rendering them praise, and all marks of love and esteem when they do well, and by gentle tender admonitions when they mistake or slip.—Let them hear often other children commended for their docility, their reasonableness, their manliness, their goodness, sweetness and grace.—Let them be kept from all infectious company; but yet let them be inured to treat even their servants with kindness and gentleness.—Let them, in fine, be habituated to see nothing, or hear nothing but what is good, graceful, liberal and praise-worthy—And let their minds be early inflamed with the desire of the love, esteem, approbation and praise of the wise and experienced; and by such care and practice we shall quickly see every virtue begin to bud, and be surprized to find how soon reason itself will dawn, call for information, relish instruction, and lovingly embrace every opportunity of expanding and satisfying itself. Such a mind will love light: There is nothing in it that light can discover but what will yield it thorough satisfaction. For the first moral reasonings that are presented to one of such a disposition, will shew to his mind the reasonableness and beauty of the train and temperature it is in, and fill it with gratitude to its formers for their care to make him, before his own reason could do it, what they knew his reason must approve, so soon as it should be awaked and cleared up, to discern the comeliness of well-disciplin’d affections, and a rightly disposed heart. We are the shorter upon this head, because Mr. Locke has treated so fully of it. To what he says of the example of parents, and of the choice of a tutor, let me but add the sentiments of one of the best men, as well as the politest writers in the later ages, at least, of the Roman state.

Our author, after other observations upon fortitude and timorousness to the same purpose, goes on to consider how children usually become cruel, and how that temper may be remedied. But I shall only take notice of a few things he says concerning one of the most incurable of all the diseases young minds are incident to.27 “Contrary to the busy inquisitive temper there is sometimes observable in children a listless carelesness, a want of regard to any thing, and a sort of trifling even at their business. This sauntering humour I look on as one of the worst qualities can appear in a child, as well as one of the hardest to be cured, where it is natural. But it being liable to be mistaken in some cases, care must be taken to make a right judgment concerning that trifling at their books or business, which may sometimes be complained of in a child. Upon the first suspicion a father has, that his son is of a sauntering temper, he must carefully observe him, whether he be listless and indifferent in all his actions, or whether in some things alone he be sluggish or slow, but in others vigorous and eager. For tho’ he finds that he does loiter at his book, and let a good deal of the time he spends in his chamber or study run idly away, he must not presently conclude that this is from a sauntering humour in his temper. It may be childishness, and a prefering something to his study which his thoughts run on: And he dislikes his book, as is natural, because it is forced upon him as a task. To know this perfectly, you must watch him at play, when he is out of his place and time of study, following his own inclinations; and see there whether he be stirring and active; whether he designs any thing, and with labour and eagerness pursues it, till he has accomplished what he aimed at, or whether he lazily and listlesly dreams away his time. If this sloth be only when he is about his toil, I think it may be easily cured. If it be in his temper, it will require more pains and attention to remedy it. If you are satisfied by his earnestness at play or any thing else he sets his mind on, in the intervals between his hours of business, that he is not of himself inclined to laziness, but that only want of relish of his book makes him negligent and sluggish in his application to it; the first step is, to try by talking with him kindly of the folly and impertinence of it, whereby he loses a good part of his time, which he might have for his diversion: But be sure to talk calmly and kindly, and not much at first, but only those plain reasons in short. If this prevails, you have gained the point in the most desirable way, which is that of reason and kindness. If this softer application prevails not, try to shame him out of it, by laughing at him for it, asking every day when he comes to table, if there be no strangers there, how long he was that day about his business? And if he has not done it in the time he might well be supposed to have dispatched it, expose him and turn him into ridicule for it, but mix not chiding; only put on a pretty cold look towards him, and keep it till he reform, and let his mother and tutor, and all about him do so too. If this work not the effect you desire, then tell him he shall be no longer troubled with a tutor to take care of his education; you will not be at the charge to have him spend his time idly with him; but since he prefers this or that (whatever play he delights in) to his book, that only he shall do; and so in earnest set him to work on his beloved play, till he be fully surfeited, and would at any rate change it for some hours at his book again. But when you thus set him his task of play, you must be sure to look after him yourself, or set somebody else to do it, that may constantly see him employed in it, and that he be not permitted to be idle at that too. This is what I propose, if it be idleness, not from his general temper, but a peculiar or acquired aversion to learning, which you must carefully distinguish. To be clear in this point, the observation must be made when you are out of the way, and he not so much under the restraint of a suspicion that any body has an eye upon him. In those seasons of perfect freedom, let some body you can trust mark how he spends his time, whether he unactively loiters it away, when without any check he is left to his own inclination. Thus, by his employing of such times of liberty, you will easily discern whether it be listlesness in his temper, or aversion to his book that makes him saunter away his time of study. If some defect in his constitution has cast a damp on his mind, and he be naturally listless and dreaming, this unpromising disposition is none of the easiest to be dealt with, because generally carrying with it an unconcernedness for the future, it wants the two great springs of action, foresight and desire, which how to plant and increase, when nature has given a cold and contrary temper will be the question. As soon as you are satisfied that this is the case, you must carefully enquire whether there be nothing he delights in: Inform yourself what it is he is most pleased with; and if you can find any particular tendency his mind hath, increase it all you can, and make use of that to set him on work, and to excite his industry. If he loves praise or play, or fine cloaths, &c. or on the other hand dreads pain, disgrace, or your displeasure, &c. whatever it be he loves most, except it be sloth, (for that will never set him on work) let that be made use of to quicken him, and make him bestir himself. For in this listless temper you are not to fear an excess of appetite (as in all other cases) by cherishing it. ’Tis that which you want, and therefore must labour to raise and increase; for where there is no desire, there will be no industry. If you have not hold enough of him in this way to stir up vigour and activity in him, you must employ him in some constant bodily labour, whereby he may get the habit of doing something. The keeping him hard to some study were the better way to get him an habit of exercising and applying his mind. But because this is an invisible attention, and no body can tell when he is, or is not idle at it, you must find bodily employments for him, which he must be constantly busied in, and kept to; and if they have some little hardship and shame in them, it may not be the worse, that they may the sooner weary him, and make him desire to return to his book. But be sure, when you exchange his book for his other labour, set him such a task to be done, in such a time, as may allow him no opportunity to be idle. Only, after you have by this way brought him to be attentive and industrious at his book, you may, upon his dispatching his study within the time set him, give him as a reward some respite from his other labour, which you may diminish, as you find him grow more and more steady in his application, and at last, wholly take off, when his sauntering at his book is cured.”

From these few examples, we learn how every distemper of the mind ought to be treated, or what are the proper, the most likely methods of reclaiming from bad habits. Gentle admonitions, mild reasoning, a fair and tender representation of the dangers into which a bad habit may plunge, confirmed by examples, and pleasant polite raillery mixed with these, are the first remedies that ought to be tried. And if all sense of shame, and all sense of danger be not totally erazed out of young minds, these methods will gradually have their due effect. Let the fatal consequences of the particular vitious propensity that is to be cured, be set before the young man’s eyes; shew him in proper characters the beauty of the opposite virtue, and by other examples, the pernicious tendency of his vice, and if he can be alarmed or piqued, if he be sensible to disgrace or to peril, he will listen, provided the admonitions are given with all the marks of love and affection. I have known fables, or feigned stories artfully told to, or thrown in the way of youth, of very strong passions, and in great danger from them, have admirable success. Some tutors, with pupils grown up to an age, in which, if the mind be not very well disposed, it is generally very impetuous and obstinate, have been of great use to them, by applying this remedy in a discreet, well-bred, polite manner, and have thus prevented their running into very great extravagancies, nay reclaimed them when they were on the very brink of ruin. Generally speaking, reproof or advice is best administered by a tale: Few out of their hanging- sleeves can bear a direct attack: And fables and stories may be suited to every age, as well as to every vice. But if the habits be such, as if not corrected, must expose to very great mischiefs, to vices that must be punished in all well-governed states, surely it is necessary to leave no methods of curing them untried. Corporal punishment for any thing but downright vice, such as lying, injustice, cruelty, ingratitude, or indocility and obstinacy, ought never to be used. In the schools abroad, whipping or beating is never employed but to correct vices by punishment, which all magistrates must punish, and that with almost the same forms civil chastisements are ordered and inflicted, that is, with a form of trial and judgment resembling the methods in civil courts. And there are instances in our own country, even of numerous schools which have produced excellent scholars, in which whipping into learning was never practised. Mr. Locke hath, by unanswerable arguments, shewn the bad consequences of corporal punishments, except for the correction of very bad habits, of obstinacy in particular: And indeed, if youth are quite deaf to reason, and absolutely irreclaimable by its soft methods, unless we would suffer them to run headlong into infamy and ruin, not to try all ways of making them feel by disgrace and suffering the danger they run, is cruel. But let them know the dangers and punishments in society, their vices, if not reformed, must expose them to, and that it is to prevent these greater ones, that the more tolerable are now employed. And to add to the disgrace, in imitation of the method generally practised in civil governments, let the punishment be executed by some of the lowest servants. He that spareth the rod, saith the wise man, hateth the child, i.e. he does not take the necessary methods of preventing his otherwise unavoidable ruin. This, we have reason to presume is Solomon’s meaning; for he hath often most emphatically recommended all the softer and milder methods of reasoning or shaming young men out of their follies, and of gaining them to hearken to wise counsel, and to love knowledge and understanding. He therefore is to be understood as commanding corporal chastisement, when all other gentler means have proved fruitless, and vices that must render one very hurtful to society, and can hardly escape punishment in society, cannot otherwise be reformed. Let parents carefully distinguish between childishness and levity almost natural to that age, since it is only reason, thinking and experience, that can cure them, and direct vice, such as disregard to truth, for instance, and they will quickly see a necessity of making a distinction likewise in punishment between the one and the other. I do not say that the domestic discipline may not extend to several vices, such as ingratitude, for example, which most civil governments have found inconvenient to punish: But let it be vice alone to which punishments are applied in the discipline or correction of youth, that they may perceive and feel themselves the difference between vices and other lighter follies. In fine, all the reasons for punishing vices in society hold so much the more strongly for the discipline in education we have been pleading for; because it may happily prevent bad habits from going to a height, that must force society to exert its coercive or vindictive authority. For good order, and the general welfare of mankind will require, that examples of terror be made to the rest of the citizens, by severely animadverting upon the crimes of those, who not having been properly corrected in their youth for vices, so soon as they shewed themselves to be too obstinate to yield to admonition and reproof, are become insufferable pests. But all these matters are so fully handled by Mr. Locke, that we need not insist longer upon them; especially, since we shall have occasion to take up this subject afresh in the following chapter.

chapter iii

Of teaching languages, and of the exercises and their uses; together with the observations of the ancients upon punishments and reproofs confirmed by examples.

Mr. Locke’s sentiments about the proper methods of teaching the Latin language, or rather talking it into children, are well known, and they are supported by incontestible arguments: He had known several examples of good success in that way: And the advantageousness of the practice hath been since confirmed by many experiments. I shall only copy a few paragraphs from him on this head, and then go on.28 “If grammar ought to be taught at any time, it must be to one that can speak the language already, how else can he be taught the grammar of it? This, at least, is evident from the practice of the wise and learned nations amongst the ancients. They made it a part of education to cultivate their own, not foreign tongues. The Greeks counted all other nations barbarous, and had a contempt for other languages. And tho’ the Greek learning grew into repute amongst the Romans towards the end of their common-wealth, yet it was the Roman tongue that was the study of their youth: Their own language they were to make use of, and therefore it was their own language they were instructed and exercised in. But more particularly, to determine the proper season for grammar; I do not see how it can reasonably be made any one’s study but as an introduction to rhetoric; when it is thought time to put any one upon the care of polishing his tongue, and of speaking better than the illiterate, then is the time for him to be instructed in the rules of grammar, and not before. For grammar being to teach men not to speak, but to speak correctly, and according to the exact rules of the tongue, which is one part of elegancy, there is little need of the one to him that has no need of the other; where rhetoric is not necessary grammar may be spared. I know not why any one who should waste his time, and beat his head about the Latin grammar, who does not intend to be a critic, or make speeches and write dispatches in it. When any one finds in himself a necessity or disposition to study any foreign language to the bottom, and to be nicely exact in the knowledge of it, it will be time enough to take a grammatical survey of it. If his use be only to understand some books wrote in it, without a critical knowledge of the tongue itself, reading alone will attain this end, without charging the mind with the multiplied rules and intricacies of grammar. We ought to distinguish three cases. 1. Men learn languages for the ordinary intercourse of society and communication of thoughts in common life, without any further design in their use of them. And for this purpose the original way of learning a language by conversation, not only serves well enough, but is to be preferred as the most expedite, proper and natural. Therefore, to this use of language, one may answer, that grammar is not necessary. This so many of my readers must be forced to allow, as understand what I here say, and who, conversing with others, understand them without ever having been taught the grammar of the English tongue, which I suppose is incomparably the greatest part of Englishmen, of whom I have never yet known any one who learned his mother-tongue by rules. 2. Others there are, the greatest part of whose business in the world is to be done with their tongues and with their pens; and to those it is convenient, if not necessary, that they should speak properly and correctly, whereby they may let their thoughts into other men’s minds the more easily and with the greater impression. Upon this account it is, that any sort of speaking, so as will make him to be understood, is not thought enough for a gentleman. He ought to study grammar amongst the other helps of speaking well, but it must be the grammar of his own tongue, of the language he uses, that he may understand his own country[’s] speech nicely, and speak it properly without shocking the ears of those it is addressed to, with solecisms and offensive irregularities, and to this purpose grammar is necessary. But it is the grammar only of their own tongues, and to those only who would take pains in cultivating their language, and in perfecting their stiles. Whether all gentlemen should not do this, I leave to be considered, since the want of propriety and grammatical exactness is thought very misbecoming one of that rank, and usually draws on one guilty of such faults the censure of having had a lower breeding and worse company than suits with his quality. If this be so (as I suppose it is) it will be matter of wonder why young gentlemen are forced to learn the grammars of foreign and dead languages, and are never once told of the grammar of their own tongues: They do not so much as know there is any such thing, much less is it made their business to be instructed in it. Nor is their own language ever proposed to them as worthy of their care and cultivating, tho’ they have daily use of it, and are not seldom, in the future course of their lives, judged of by their handsome or awkward way of expressing themselves in it. Whereas the languages whose grammars they have been so much employed in, are such as probably they shall scarce ever speak or write. Would not a Chinese who took notice of this kind of breeding, be apt to imagine, that all our young gentlemen were designed to be teachers and professors of the dead languages, and not to be men of business in their own. 3. There is a third sort of men who apply themselves to two or three foreign, dead, and, which amongst us are called the learned languages, make them their study, and pique themselves upon their skill in them. No doubt those who propose to themselves the learning of any language with this view, and would be critically exact in it, ought carefully to study the grammar of it. I would not be mistaken here, as if this were to undervalue Greek and Latin. I grant these are languages of great use and excellency, and a man can have no place amongst the learned in this part of the world, who is a stranger to them. But the knowledge a gentleman would ordinarily draw for his use out of the Roman and Greek writers, I think he may attain without studying the grammars of those tongues, and by bare reading, may come to understand them sufficiently for all his purposes. How much further he shall at any time be concerned to look into the grammar and critical niceties of either of these tongues, he himself will be able to determine, when he comes to propose to himself the study of any thing that shall require it.—The formation of the verbs first, and afterwards the declension of the nouns and pronouns perfectly learned by heart, may facilitate the acquaintance with the genius and manner of the Latin tongue, which varies the signification of verbs and nouns, not as the modern languages do, by particles prefix’d, but by changing the last syllables. More than this of grammar I think he needs not have till he can read himself Sanctii Minerva, with Scioppius and Perizonius’s notes.”

These are the sentiments of a very great man, drawn, as he tells us, from experience; and they have been confirmed since by repeated trials. Suffer me only to say, that the prevailing method of teaching Latin may be pursued, without making that or any other language, as is generally done, the sole employment of youth, in their most retentive, as well as docile years. He who looks upon Latin and Greek, or any part of what is commonly called literature, as the main part of education, must be very improper, very unqualified for the great and important business of instructing and fitting youth timeously for the duties and business of life. And how much is it to be regretted, that instruction in the useful sciences is so long delayed, seeing they must be confessed to be of much superior utility to the deepest skill in languages; but more especially, since there is indeed time enough for both? How many young lads have made great proficiency at home, under proper tuition and care, in geography, history and morals, as well as in French, Greek and Latin, at an age when boys come from our greater schools with Latin syntax and prosody, perhaps by rote, but without any taste of solid science, and for that reason absolute strangers to the spirit and sense of the ancient authors they can mechanically construe? Why may not two or three hours a day suffice for any one learned language? And how much might be done in the rest of the day, by taking proper methods? The design of education is to light up gradually the understanding; or to use another similitude, it is to teach young ideas and judgments to shoot and bud. But whether bestowing all the time in cramming the memories of children with mere words, be doing any thing to beget the love of true knowledge, or to reform and strengthen their understandings, we may form some notion from the confessed difference between a man of taste in classical learning, and the mere pedant or verbal critic, in comparison to which tall, full-grown tree, the young construer and etymologist, with his grammar and rhetoric at his finger-ends, is but the budding slip. Why is the best of their time thrown away upon erudition, perfection in which, if it be not united with other knowledge, makes, in the opinion of all good judges, one of the lowest characters even in the republic of letters? ’Tis a turn of mind which none who know the world would wish his son to take: And why then is he wholly employed in a way that can give him no other bent? For what can we expect, at best, if words be all the business, but mere verbalism? Can any one hesitate which to choose, whether that his son should early be acquainted with men, manners and things, or that he should early be a profound linguist, without any tincture of the substantial sciences, supposing it impossible to mix instruction in them with languages? But it is far from being impracticable: Progress in the one needs not exclude due pains about the other, as hath been found in many instances, whatever the ordinary methods in the schools may be. Need I dwell long on this subject? What man of sense, if he thinks of the matter seriously, and balances impartially the values of things in his mind, would not rather have his son at fourteen tolerably skilled in geography and history, acquainted with the true method of unraveling nature, and discovering her laws and final ends, and with the duties which justice, public love, and generosity and fortitude require at his hands, and able to express truths of these classes with propriety and taste, in his own language, tho’ he should yet have made but small proficiency in any learned or foreign language, rather than utterly ignorant of all these sciences, but quite master of the Greek and Latin grammars, which is all that can be learned, where nothing else is taught? Let instruction in real knowledge be the chief care from the first dawn of reason, if verbal knowledge be not of greater excellence and utility. And let us not imagine that the understanding opens otherwise than in proportion to the pains taken to let in light into it, and to brighten and strengthen it by instruction and proper exercise. As candle lighteth candle, so doth instruction light up the understanding. And the longer fit methods of drawing forth reason to seek information, and of informing the mind are delayed, the more difficult instructing work becomes. ’Tis the same here as with regard to the body: The fibres of the latter do not become more stiff and inflexible, for want of early use, than the intellectual faculties become, if they are not exercised, dull or restive, and unsusceptible of their proper movements. And if any one can think information in natural or moral history more unentertaining or insipid to youth than grammatical lessons, and the rationale of the latter more easy and comprehensible to them, let him but try the difference, and he will quickly find the former highly agreeable to the youngest scholar, and that he will make with delight very speedy progress in science; whereas grammar is exceeding irksome to him, and is not at all understood by youth, even after their memories can rote it away most fluently. Every one who will allow himself to think, must immediately perceive that the use and design of grammar and all its rules, cannot be understood till the mind is pretty well stored with the knowledge of things, seeing the foundation of the chief grammatical rules in every language can be none other but either perspicuity, propriety, force or elegance, and harmony of expression. But if this be true, it requires no proof, that tho’ the books that are put into children’s hands, in whatever language they are taught, should not only be correct but elegant, and they should be used to pronounce gracefully, and speak or write accurately, yet they ought not to be much plagued with rules, till they are able to trace the more essential ones to some good reasons for them, founded in one or other of the designs of discourse just mentioned. As one may not only have a very good ear for music, but even be able to play very well upon some musical instrument, tho’ he does not understand the principles and foundations of combination in music; so is it with respect to grammar and languages in a great measure. In teaching music, care is taken first to form the ear, and then, and not till then, is it thought expedient to teach the scholar the maxims or rules of composition. And for the same reasons, the like method ought to be pursued in teaching grammar and rhetoric, that the feelings of the ear may, by these arts, be enabled to justify themselves to the understanding, as far as philosophy or reason can have place with relation to the structure and idiom of a language; for here, no doubt, much must be resolved into mere custom. But grammar, rightly taught, will teach to distinguish what rules are really founded on this reason, e.g. to prevent ambiguity, or some such other equivalent one, and what are founded on harmony and rhythm, and what merely on chance and subsequent use. When it is proper to read grammar in a critical, or rather philosophical manner with youth, ’tis certainly the grammar of their own native tongue for which they are to have most use in life, that they ought most carefully and accurately to be instructed in. The Greeks, perhaps, made more early advances in the most useful sciences than any youth have done since, chiefly on this account, that they studied no other language but their own: This, no doubt, saved them very much time: But they applied themselves carefully to the study of their own language, and were early able to speak and write it in the greatest perfection. ’Twas from the Greeks that the Romans derived all their philosophy and learning; and therefore the Roman youth were timeously taught the Greek tongue: But they did not neglect their own, but studied it more carefully than we now do Greek and Latin, without minding or giving ourselves any trouble about our own tongue. This, not to tire the reader with many proofs of it, we may learn from the compliment Horace pays to Maecenas;

And the passages from ancient authors, which are commonly quoted by Horace’s commentators in their notes on that place; one in particular, in the beginning of Cicero’s book of offices, wrote for the use of his son. “Ut ipse ad meam utilitatem semper cum Graecis Latina conjunxi, neque id in philosophia tantum, sed etiam in dicendi exercitatione feci, idem tibi censeo faciendum, ut par sis in utriusque orationis facultate.”30 And from the account Quintilian gives us of his method of teaching grammar and rhetoric, thinking preceptors may glean excellent rules and helps for teaching the grammar of any language.

All I now contend for is, that there is time enough for teaching many dead and foreign languages, without being forced to neglect more substantial and important parts of education. Let French and Italian be early talked into youth, as is usually done with excellent success. And as for Latin, let conjugations and declensions, and some more general rules of construction be taught regularly: But let the more difficult and abstruse parts of grammar be delayed till their understandings being enriched with useful knowledge, and their ears having been accustomed to clear, strong and elegant expression, they are qualified for examining, with the assistance of masters, the received principles of rhetoric, of which grammar is the first, and yet the most difficult part. Let due pains be taken to make Latin as easy to them as possible, by ranging the words to them in their natural order, and explaining the author, they read, to them in English, as near to the Latin as the idioms of these two languages permit. Let no helps be denied them, that will either save them time or harsh labour; none especially which will remove all the difficulty that may arise to very young scholars, merely from want of acquaintance with their own tongue. But let care be taken the translations or other helps that are allowed them in this view, be just and good in every respect, i.e. be good English, as well as true explications of the author’s meaning. It will be soon enough to begin Greek with youth when they have got a sufficient stock of Latin words to be able to interpret Greek into Latin; and then they will be improving in the latter every step they advance in the former. But whatever language they are learning, one chief thing is to trace with them metaphorical words, which are by far the greatest number in every language, to their roots and primitive significations, and to point out to them the analogies or resemblances in nature, which lay the foundations for similitudes or comparisons, and metaphors which are similitudes expressed in single words, without the formality of telling us that a comparison is designed. This is necessary, in order to one’s being able to comprehend quickly and relish fully the propriety and force of metaphors: And exercises of this kind must not only enrich and improve the fancy, but exceedingly ripen and extend the judgment: For there is not a more useful or more entertaining branch of knowledge, than to be gathering from nature just conceptions, and large views of the likenesses and correspondences which obtain throughout all her works, even those which at the first sight seem most heterogeneous or desperate, and consequently to have the least relation or affinity. And I need not tell those who have any notion of poetry, painting and sculpture, commonly called, with great justice, because of their close dependence, the sister arts, that were there not such an extensive analogy between the moral world and the natural, that almost every moral sentiment may be figured or pictured to us under some material semblance, these arts would be utterly unknown to us: There would be no foundation for them in the frame and contexture of things. To give a just taste of metaphorical language, is to teach to judge what is or what is not a proper image for conveying a clear and warm idea of a subject intended to be illustrated by a lively and true picture of it to the imagination. And so far teaching of languages coincides with philosophy, or is at least an essential step towards forming good taste, and quickening, embellishing and refining the fancy. The perfection of wit and taste consists in finding out readily proper material images for exhibiting moral sentiments in an agreeable garb or dress. And therefore, without overlooking the likenesses and resemblances in nature, which make a most entertaining branch of knowledge, and are the basis of all the ingenious imitative arts, and without neglecting the culture of the imagination, this part of teaching cannot be omitted.

Much depends upon a fit choice of books for young scholars. Quintilian did not think it expedient to read all Horace with his disciples. And Plutarch lays down many excellent cautions about reading the poets with youth, in order to put them into the way of drawing solid advantages from them, and to prevent the bad influence the magic of fiction and numbers must have, if they be not wholesomely employed. If we would form good taste, let them not touch or taste any thing that is not truly chaste and elegant: And if we would preserve their hearts pure and uncorrupted, which is still of greater consequence, let all evil or infectious communication be far removed from them; let them have no fellowship with what must pollute their minds or inflame hurtful passions. Let fables, allegories, and characters, which tend to insinuate in an agreeable manner moral truths or precepts into their minds; which display the folly, absurdity, and deformity of the vices, or the beauty and excellence of the virtues be early read to them and by them. This was the ancient practice, as we are assured by many authors: And our Saviour himself hath, by his frequent use of parables, given a particular recommendation, or rather sanction to this method of instruction. A treatise strongly recommended to preceptors by Mr. Rollin, as one of the best they can put into the hands of young Latin scholars, intitled, Historiae selectae e profanis scriptoribus, &c. were more poetry, i.e. more descriptions and recommendations of the several virtues, and more dehortations from their opposite vices taken from the poets, and some fables added to it under proper heads, would make a perfect book for the use of schools, it being nothing else but excerpts from the Latin writers in their own language, containing moral maxims and precepts, confirmed by characters and histories. I have often wished that there were, for the use of young Latin students, a collection made from Cicero, whose works would furnish a great deal, and other Roman authors, of observations upon final causes in nature, or the wisdom and goodness of God’s works of creation and providence: And one who is very well qualified for it, hath given me encouragement to expect such a work very soon from his hands. And when youth are by such reading prepared for considering the nature of composition, I know not why any other author should be preferred to Cicero himself, i.e. to proper select parts from him, on the beauty of writing. For there all the rules of oratory are fully explained? Nay, there all the different species of true and false wit are more perfectly described and illustrated than in any of our modern systems of rhetoric.

But let me, upon a subject where I would willingly avoid all appearance of dictating to more experienced teachers, just add, That what the very ingenious and worthy Mr. Rollin has said upon teaching languages, deserves the most careful perusal from every one who is engaged in the instruction of youth, because his rules are drawn from his own experience, or such as he could equally found upon. That I may not, however, swell this book too much, I shall only give the substance of what he has collected from the ancients, upon an article which all good men will acknowledge to be by far the most momentuous branch of education.31

“The education of youth hath ever been regarded by the best philosophers and the wisest legislators as the most certain source of happiness, not only to families, but to states or kingdoms. In effect, what is a republic or kingdom but a vast body, whose vigour and health depends upon that of the families, which are, as it were, its parts and members, none of which can fail in its functions without detriment to the whole? But is it not good education which puts all the citizens, the great and noble, more especially, into a condition of executing with dignity their respective offices? Is it not evident that the youth of a state are the nursery by which it is preserved and renewed? From it come fathers of families, magistrates, ministers, in one word, all persons of authority and power? And may we not be assured, that faults in education will shew their bad effects, in the behaviour of those who are placed in these stations? Laws, in truth, are the foundation of states; and by maintaining regularity and good order in them, support public peace and tranquillity. But whence do the laws derive their force and vigour, if not from good education, accustoming the minds of subjects to approve and submit to them? Without this precaution, they are but a very feeble barrier against the passions of mankind.

“Plutarch makes a very judicious observation upon this subject, that deserves to be weighed with attention. It is in his remarks upon Lycurgus. That wise lawgiver, says he, did not think it sufficient to commit his constitutions and orders to writing, being persuaded that the most effectual way of rendering states happy, and any people virtuous, is by practising them in, and inuring them to virtue, till its habits are become natural. For the principles and dispositions which are engraved upon the heart by education, remain firm and unshakeable, as being founded on inward conviction, and the bent and inclination of the will, which is a much stronger and more lasting bond than constraint, and therefore becomes a law to youth, and holds in their minds the quality of a legislator. Here, methinks, is the truest idea that can be given of the difference between laws and education. The laws, by themselves, are a severe imperious mistress, a kind of necessity which fetters man, in what he naturally loves most, and is most jealous of, I mean his liberty. They fret and grieve him, they oppose and contradict him, they are deaf to all his remonstrances and desires; they are inflexible, and speak to him always in a menacing tone, and exhibit nothing to his view but punishments. And therefore it is not surprizing that he should willingly shake off this yoke, when he can do it with impunity, and give himself up to those natural inclinations which the laws had only restrained, not changed or destroyed. ’Tis not so with respect to education. It is a sweet and insinuating mistress, an enemy to all violence and constraint, that delights to act only in the way of persuasion, and endeavours to make its instructions liked by speaking always truth and reason, and aims at making virtue easier by rendering it more amiable. These lessons commencing with infancy, grow up and strengthen with the child, and spreading their roots by degrees, soon pass from the memory and the understanding into the heart, and by practice and habitude become a second nature, which it is almost impossible to efface or alter. ’Tis not then to be wondered at, that the ancient sages should have so earnestly recommended particular concern about education, and considered it as the securest way of rendering a state truly stable and flourishing. Their capital maxim was, that children belonged more to the republic than to their parents, and therefore, that their institution ought not to be left to the caprice of the latter, but be the care of the public. ’Tis true, every species of government hath its particular genius. The spirit and character of a common-wealth is one thing, and that of a monarchical state is another. But ’tis by education that the spirit and character of a people is formed. It is in consequence of the principles we have now laid down that Lycurgus, Aristotle, Plato, and in one word, all those ancients who have left us instructions concerning civil government, declare with one voice, that it is the principal, the most essential duty of a magistrate, a minister, a legislator, a prince, to give attention to the education, in the first place of their own children, who often succeed to their dignities, and in the next place to that of the subjects in general, which constitute the public body; and they have observed that all the disorders of states chiefly spring from neglect of this double duty. Plato quotes an illustrious example of it in the person of one of the most accomplished princes in ancient history, the famous Cyrus. He wanted none of the qualities necessary to make a truly great man, but this one we are now to mention. Being entirely occupied by his conquests, he abandoned to his women the education of his children. So that these young princes were not brought up according to the hard and austere discipline of the Persians, which had such excellent success with regard to Cyrus himself, but in the manner of the Medes, that is to say, in luxury, softness and voluptuousness. Their ears were open to nothing but praise and flattery: All who came near them bended the knee, and laid themselves at their feet; and they thought it essential to their grandeur to keep at an immense distance from all the rest of mankind, whom they looked upon as of a different species. An education from which all controul, all checks were banished, had, says Plato, the effect one must naturally expect from it. The two princes, immediately after the decease of their father, armed the one against the other, neither being able to bear a superior or equal; and Cambyses becoming, by the death of his brother, absolute master, threw himself, like one who had lost his senses, and was quite infatuated, into excesses of all kinds, and brought the Persian empire to the very brink of ruin. Cyrus had left him a vast extent of provinces, immense revenues, an army of incredible numbers; but all this contributed to his ruin, through want of another good, infinitely more valuable, which he neglected to leave him, I mean a good education.

“Philip King of Macedon behaved in another manner. So soon as he was a father (and it was in the middle of his conquests, and in the time of his greatest exploits) he wrote the following letter to Aristotle. ‘I acquaint you that a son is born to me. I do not thank the Gods so much for his birth, as for his happiness in being born while there is an Aristotle in the world. For I hope that, being educated under your care, he will become worthy of the glory of his father, and of the empire I shall leave him.’ This was speaking and thinking like a great prince, who well knew the importance of good education. Alexander had the same sentiments. An historian tells us, that he loved Aristotle as his father, because, said he, to the one I owe my life, to the other the art of living well.

“If it be a great fault in a prince not to give due attention to the education of his own children, it is not a less one to neglect that of his subjects in general. Plutarch, in his parallel between Lycurgus and Numa, remarks very judiciously, that it was this neglect that rendered all the good designs and noble establishments of the latter ineffective. The passage is remarkable. All the care of Numa, says he, being solely aimed at maintaining Rome in peace and quiet, evanished with him: For immediately after his death, the double-gated temple, that really during his time kept in the Demon of war, as if he had been chained by him, burst open, and Italy was forthwith filled with blood and slaughter. And thus his best orders proved abortive, and did not long subsist, because the only support that could preserve and uphold them was wanting, good education of the youth. It was a quite opposite conduct which supported for so long a time the laws of Lycurgus in their full power. For as the same Plutarch observes, the oath which he exacted from the Lacedemonians would have been but a very weak resource after his death, if he had not taken care by his regulations about education to imprint his laws upon their manners, and to make them suck in with their first milk the love of his polity. Accordingly we find, that his chief ordinances preserved themselves more than five hundred years, as a good and strong tincture that had penetrated to the very bottom of the soul. It is astonishing to think how far back the best persons of antiquity carried their attention and vigilance in this matter. They recommended taking the greatest precaution from the very birth of infants, with relation to the persons put about them. We know that Quintilian had taken from Plato and Aristotle what he says with relation to nurses. He advises, like these sages, that in the choice of them regard ought to be had to their language and accent, but yet more especially to their temper, character and manners. And the reasons he gives are admirable. What is learned in infancy gently slides into the mind, and quickly taking deep root there is not easily erazed. Young minds are like fresh vessels, which preserve a long time the flavour of the first liquor that is poured into them; or as wool which never recovers its first whiteness after it has been dyed. And the misfortune is, that bad habits last longer than good ones. It was for the same reasons, that these philosophers looked upon it to be one of the chief duties of those charged with the education of children, to remove far from them the slaves and domestics, who by their discourse, and yet more by their example, might be hurtful to them. They added to this care another, the neglect of which will be the condemnation of many christian parents and masters. They kept carefully from infants not only all books, but all paintings, sculptures, or tapistry that could raise any dangerous image in their minds. All such corruptive pieces of art were strictly forbidden; and it was thought incumbent upon the magistrates to take care that these might be prohibitions were carefully observed. They were persuaded, that from objects so proper to kindle and flatter bad passions and appetites, there proceeded a most pestilential and contagious air. These sages earnestly desired that care might be taken that every thing should teach and inspire virtue, inscriptions, pictures, statues, spectacles, conversations; that every thing, in fine, that presents itself to the senses, and strikes the eyes or ears, should breath a salutary air, which might imperceptibly insinuate itself into young minds, and being aided and supported by the instructions of masters, might, from their tenderest years blow up and cherish in them the love of virtue, and a relish for honest things. There is in the original Greek of Plato, a delicacy of expression of which no other language is susceptive. And tho’ the passage be long, I thought it not amiss to quote a great part of it, to give some idea of his stile. I return to my subject, and I shall conclude this article, by entreating the reader to consider how paganism itself always regarded it as the principal duty of fathers, mothers, magistrates and princes, to watch over the education of children, as an affair of the last moment to private and public happiness. In fact, whilst the mind is yet tender and flexible, it may be moulded and formed just as we please, whereas age and long habit render faults almost incorrigible. ‘Frangas enim citius, quam corrigas quae in pravum induruerunt.’33

“In order to succeed well in the education of youth, the first step, methinks, one ought to take, is to settle well the scope to be proposed, to enquire which is the road to it, and to choose an able and experimented guide, qualified for conducting to it. Tho’ it be in general a very wise and judicious rule, to avoid all singularity, and to follow the established customs; yet I know not, if with regard to the affair in question, this maxim does not admit of some exception, and there be not reason to fear the dan gers and inconveniencies of a sort of servitude, that makes us follow blindly the steps of those who went before us, and consult custom more than reason, and regulate ourselves by what has been, rather than by what ought to be done: From whence it not unfrequently happens, that an error once established, goes from hand to hand, and from age to age, and so becomes almost a law that can’t be prescribed. But are mankind so happy, that the greater number always approves what is best? Doth not the very contrary happen much the oftenest? If we think with any degree of seriousness upon the matter, it will easily be granted, that the design of masters is not merely to teach their scholars Greek and Latin, or to instruct them in making themes, verses, amplifications; to load their memories with historical dates and aeras; to teach them to rear up syllogisms in mood and figure, or to draw lines and figures upon paper. These arts are, I deny not, useful and estimable, but as means, and not as the end; when they lead us to something else, and not when they are rested in as the principal part of instruction; when they serve as preparatives and instruments for better things, the ignorance of which renders every thing else useless. Youth would be to be pitied indeed, if they were condemned to pass eight or ten of their best years in learning, at great expence, and with incredible labour, one or two languages, and other such things, for which they may perhaps have very rarely any occasion. The great use of masters, in the long carrier of studies, is to accustom their disciples to thinking and serious application, and to make them love and esteem the sciences, to excite a hunger and thirst in them after solid knowledge, which will spur them to seek after it, when they leave the schools and colleges; to direct them into the true road to it, and to imprint upon their minds a deep sense of its value and price, and by this means, to qualify them for the different employments to which divine providence may call them. Nay, the scope of masters ought to be something more yet, which is to form their hearts and inclinations; to inspire into them good principles, the principles of honour and probity, and to train up in their minds good habits; to correct and amend in them by soft and sweet methods, any bad dispositions they may have discovered, such as pride, insolence, self-conceit, selfishness, and a spirit of railery, that delights in irritating and insulting, or a habit of laziness and indolence, which would render the best accomplishments profitless. Education, properly speaking, is the art of fashioning the heart and mind. It is of all the sciences the most difficult and the rarest: It is the most important, but it is not studied enough. To judge of the matter by common experience, one would say, that man is the most untractable of all animals. This is the judicious reflection with which Xenophon begins his institution of Cyrus. After having remarked that herds of sheep or cattle never rebel against their leaders, whereas amongst mankind nothing is more common. It seems, says he, as if we ought to conclude from hence, that it is more difficult to command men than beasts. But upon casting his eyes towards Cyrus, who was able to govern so many provinces, and keep them in peace, and to make himself equally beloved by conquered nations and his own natural subjects, he infers, that the fault is not owing to the refractoriness of those who ought to obey, but to superiors who know not how to rule. We may say the same of those who are charged with the education of children. It must be owned that the spirit of man, even in the tenderest age, is impatient of the yoke, and inclines to what is forbidden. But what ought we to conclude from this, but that the art of managing youth requires great prudence and address; and that youth yield more readily to mild methods than to violence? We often see a horse skittish, and spurn and fret at the bit, when it is the fault of his rider, who curbs and checks him unskilfully: Mount another on the same horse, better versed in horsemanship, and he will manage him very easily. To gain this end, the master’s first care ought to be to find out the genius and character of his trust: For accordingly ought he to regulate his management. Some children are retained by fear, and others are dispirited and discouraged by it. Some are hardly to be diverted or drawn from study and application: Others only study by fits and starts. To attempt to bring all upon the same level, or to subject all to one rule and discipline, is to force nature. The prudence of a master lies chiefly in keeping the middle between two extremes: For here the good borders so near upon the bad, that it is easy to mistake the one for the other, and this it is that renders the government of young folks so difficult. Too much liberty begets licentiousness, and too much restraint, on the other hand breaks the spirit. Praise awakes and rouses, but it also inspires vanity and presumption. We must therefore study to keep a just mean, that may balance or avoid these two inconveniencies, and imitate the conduct of Isocrates,34 with regard to Ephorus and Theopompus his scholars, who were of very different characters. This great master, who had no less success in teaching than in writing, as his disciples and writings proved, employed the bridle to keep in the vivacity of the one, and the spur to awake and push forward the other; and did not dream of treating them both in the same manner. His aim in reducing the one and goading the other, was to bring each to the particular perfection of which his nature was capable. Here is the model that ought to be followed in education. Infants carry in their minds the principles, and, as it were, the seeds of all the virtues and vices. Great sagacity is requisite to distinguish their several genius’s and characters; to find out their humours, their talents, their propensities, and, above all, their predomining passions, not with the view or hope of changing entirely their temperament, as for instance, to render one gay who is naturally grave and morose, or him serious who is naturally sprightly and lively. There are certain characters which like bodily deformity may be mended a little, but cannot be wholly changed. Now, the way to know children is to give them liberty from their earliest years to discover their inclinations, and to exert their natural humours; to bear with their little infirmities, that they may not be afraid to let them appear, to observe them narrowly, especially when they are at play, and do not hide or disguise themselves. For young people are naturally open and simple: But when they imagine they are observed, they are fettered, and this puts them upon their guard.

“It is also of great moment to distinguish the nature of the faults to which children are incident. In general, there is a probability that those in which their childhood, bad education, ignorance, misleading, and bad example have any share, are not remediless: And there is ground on the contrary to fear, that the faults which are rooted on the natural character of the mind, and the corruption of the heart, will be found very difficult to be cured, such as insincerity, dissimulation, flattery, a propensity to tale- bearing, in order to sow division, to envy and evil-speaking; a taunting mocking spirit, especially if it exert itself against advice, or things revered as sacred, a spirit of contradiction and obstinacy, and which is the ordinary consequence of it, a willingness and readiness to pervert and misconstruct.

“To get authority over children early is of principal consequence to masters during the whole course of education. I mean by authority a certain air and manner, which imprints respect and gains obedience. And ’tis neither age nor stature, nor the tone of the voice, nor menaces, which give this authority; but a moderate, agreeable, firm character of mind, which is always master of itself, and is always guided by reason, and never acts by caprice or in passion. ’Tis this excellent quality which preserves all in order, maintains an exact discipline, makes rules to be observed, saves from the trouble of reprimanding, and almost totally prevents the necessity of any other punishments. But it is from the very beginning that parents and masters must get this ascendency. If they do not seize the favourable minute, and put themselves from the first in possession of this authority, they will ever after find insurmountable difficulties in obtaining it, and the child will be master. There is in the heart of man a love of independency, which develops and shews itself in the tenderest years, and from the cradle. Now this is the season for breaking hardness and obstinacy, by accustoming children from their cradles to overcome their appetites, and to have no will of their own, but to yield and obey willingly. If what they cried for was never given them, they would quickly learn to give over fretting and peevishness, and by consequence, would not be so troublesome to themselves and others as they are generally rendered during their whole lives by ill-judged indulgence to their humours in their infancy. When I say this, I do not mean, that we should have no indulgence for children: I am far from such a disposition. I only say that nothing ought to be yielded to their crossness and peevishness: On the contrary, if they redouble their importunity they ought to be made to feel, that for this very reason they are not to have what they call for. And this we should lay down for a certain maxim, that after we have once refused them, we must resolve not to succumb to their obstinacy, unless we have a mind to teach them to be impatient and chagrined by so gratifying them. Don’t we see several well- bred children, who at table, whatever be before them, desire nothing, but take chearfully whatever is given them? Whereas, in other families children call tumultuously for whatever they like, and must be served first. Now whence comes this difference but from difference of discipline and education? The younger infants are, the less ought we to indulge their disorderly desires. The less reason they have, there is the more necessity of their absolute subjection to the will of their governors. And when they have once contracted this habit of pliableness, the trouble is over, and obedience will ever after be very easy to them.

What I have said of younger infants may be applied to those of riper years. A scholar who is put under a new master, makes it his first business to study and sound him. He will leave no artifice untried to find him out, and get the ascendent over him. But when he finds all his ruses and arts to no purpose, and that his master, with tranquillity and steadiness pursues his method, and will be obeyed, then the young man surrenders himself with good grace, and this kind of little war, or rather short skirmish which served to try forces on both sides, terminates happily in a peace and good understanding, which render all the after-time they have to be together very sweet and pleasant.

“The respect upon which the authority I have been speaking of is founded includes two things, fear and love, which mutually support and assist one another, and are the two chief handles or springs of government in general, in the management of youth in particular. Being of an age, in which reason is not yet very strong, and far from being able to rule, fear must sometimes come to its assistance, and take its place. But if fear be alone, and not followed very close with something to soften it and give delight, it will not long be listened to, its lessons will have but a very slight and transitory effect, which the hope of impunity will quickly dissipate. Wherefore, in education the great skill and ability of a master consists in mingling force to retain children, without dispiriting them, with love to gain them without softening them. On the one side mildness takes off what is harsh and austere in commanding; it blunts the sting of empire: On the other, prudent severity fixes the volatility and unsteadiness of an age not yet capable of deep reflection, or of governing itself. ’Tis then this happy mixture of sweetness and severity, fear and love, which procures authority to a master, is the soul of government, and inspires into pupils that respect which is the firmest bond of submission and obedience, in such a proportion, however, that it is mildness that ought to predomine and have the ascendant. But it may be said, that this mild way of governing youth, and of making one’s self beloved by his pupils, is much easier to be pursued by a private tutor than by masters of public schools. I own it is very difficult to preserve, in the management of a numerous school, that wholesome temperament between severity and excessive sweetness, of which we have been speaking. But it is not impossible; for we have seen it put in practice by some rare persons, who had hit on the secret of making themselves at once feared and loved. The whole depends upon the character of the masters. Quintilian tells us what the qualities of such a master must be, and how he must conduct himself in order to gain the affection of his disciples.36

“1. Because it is a general maxim that love cannot be bought but by love, ‘Si vis amari ama,’ the first thing Quintilian demands is, that a master should put on the sentiments and feelings, the bowels of a parent for his charge, and consider himself as holding the rank of those who have committed their children to him. 2. Next, That he should indulge no vices in himself, and suffer none in others. But that his austerity should have nothing rude in it, and his facility, on the other hand, no mixture of the too soft, lest he be either despised or hated. 3. That he be not choleric or passionate; but that on the other side, he do not shut his eyes against faults that deserve his animadversion. 4. That his manner of teaching be simple, calm, patient, and correct; and that he count more upon his own application and distinctness than upon the assiduity of his scholars: That he take pleasure in answering their questions: Nay, that he often prevent them, and raise their curiosity by asking them proper questions if they do not come to him with any. 5. That he do not grudge them the praise they have merited in due place and time, but that he be not too lavish of it; for the one discourages, and the other occasions a dangerous self-confidence and security. 6. When he is obliged to reprove, let it be done without bitterness or irritation. For many have contracted an aversion to study, because their master’s reprimands to them were as surly as if he had conceived a hatred against them. 7. That he speak often to them of virtue, and always with high relish, delight and commendation: That he always set it forth to them in the most engaging, captivating colours, as the most excellent and precious of all treasures, the most worthy possession of a reasonable agent; that which gains one the greatest honour, as a quality absolutely necessary to procure universal esteem and love, and as the only means of true happiness. The more pains he takes in informing them of their duties, the less will he be necessitated to chastise. Let him every day teach them himself something which they will take pleasure to carry with them, and by which they will profit. Tho’ reading may furnish with good examples, yet what a master says of himself viva voce, has quite another force, and produces quite a different effect, especially if it come from a master whom the scholars love and honour. For we much more willingly hearken to and imitate those for whom we have preconceived a liking and esteem.

“Those are the qualities which Quintilian requires in a master of rhetoric; (and they are equally requisite to every one who is entrusted with the care of youth) to the end, saith he, that where there are great numbers of students, the prudence of the master may preserve the younger from infection, and his gravity may check the licentiousness of those who are of an age more difficult to govern. For it is not enough that he be a man of virtue, if he be not also able to keep his disciples in order by exact discipline. Let us not doubt but a preceptor of this character will make himself both feared and loved. But the greater part seem to think, that they take a much surer way, namely that of reproof and punishment. It must be acknowledged, that this method appears easier, and that it costs less to the master than the insinuating mild manner, but it is as true, that it succeeds much worse. For by punishments one never arrives at the great end of education, which is to persuade, and to inspire the sincere love of virtue.

“The common compendious way for correcting children is the rod, the only one many of those entrusted with education seem to know. But this remedy often produces a worse disease than those it is employed to redress; especially, if it be employed out of season and measure. For besides that the whip and the rod have something indecent, low and servile in them, they are not in themselves proper remedies for faults, and there is no likelihood that correction will be of any use to a child, if the shame of suffering for having done amiss make not a greater impression upon his mind than the pain of being beat or lashed. Besides, these punishments give him an incurable aversion against the very things one ought to take all pains to make him like. They do not change the temper, but only restrain it for a while, and so only serve to make the passions break forth with more violence, when the curb is removed, and they feel themselves at liberty. They often stupify the mind, and oftener still harden in the vice we would reform: For an infant, who has so little sense of honour as not to be sensible to a reprimand, accustoms himself to stripes like a slave, and is at length very little affected by very severe punishments. Ought we to infer from this, that chastisements should never be applied? I am far from being of that opinion. I know what the wise man says against parents who spare the rod. But it is plain from the general tenor of his writings, that he only enjoins corporal punishment in case of obstinacy and insensibility to honour and reproof. Punishments may therefore be employed, but for faults of great importance, even as violent cures are never used but in extreme danger. Every person who is set over others, in order to correct those under his tuition, ought first to use gentle remonstrances, try the persuasive way, and endeavour to make honour, truth and justice relished; and to inspire esteem for virtue and abhorrence against vice. If this method won’t do, he may then have recourse to more violent and more piquing reproaches. But let him not proceed to corporal punishment till he hath tried all other milder means in vain, and that by degrees, leaving still some hopes of pardon, and thus reserving greater severities for the most desperate cases. When we compare a person of this prudence and moderation with a brutish, passionate, violent master, such as Orbilius, to whom Horace, who had been his scholar, gives the character of Plagosus,37 who does not perceive the difference of the effects that may be expected from their very opposite methods? Which of the two preceptors would we prefer, says Seneca, him who by his sage advices and counsels, and by motives of honour applies himself to amend his scholars, or him who tears their hides into pieces with his rod for a grammatical blunder, or some such like fault? If we should take this way to manage a horse, would we not quite spoil him? A skilful horseman never goes so rudely to work: And why must men be treated more roughly than brutes? The truth of the matter is, what makes it necessary to have at any age recourse to severe punishments, is chiefly the indulgence by which children are spoil’d in their tender years. Would we inure them betimes to obey reason, a reasonable habit would soon be fixed in their minds, that would save us the trouble and pain of punishing them in their more advanced years. But it is of the greatest importance to distinguish faults that demerit punishment from pardonable ones. I scruple not to place in the latter class all those which are done through inadvertency or ignorance, and which cannot be attributed to malice or bad intention, there being none that render culpable but those of the will. Of this kind are many levities and childish frailties which experience and age will infallibly correct. Nor do I think the whip or rod ought to be employed for any slips a child may commit in reading, writing, dancing, in learning any language, as Latin, Greek, &c. except in certain cases, of which I shall speak afterwards. There ought to be other punishments for faults in which there appears no bad disposition of the heart, nor no desire to shake off the yoke of authority. It is likewise the duty of parents and masters to contrive different sorts and degrees of punishments for different faults. It depends upon them to attach shame or ignominy to a thousand things which are indifferent in themselves, and that only become punishments in consequence of the ideas attached to them.—The only vice, in my opinion, that deserves severe treatment, is obstinacy in evil: A determined evident obstinacy. For we must not give this name to faults of levity and inconstancy, into which children, naturally heedless and unfixed, may frequently relapse without having bad dispositions. Suppose a child has told a lie; if it was violent fear drove him to it, the fault is much less on that score, and requires no more than a gentle reprimand. But if it be deliberate and voluntary, and pertly persisted in, it is a real fault that certainly merits punishment. Yet I think even for such a fault the rod ought not to be used the first time; for beyond this what can we do with children? It is the last remedy with relation to them. Does a father, says Seneca, disinherit his son for the first fault, however gross it may be? No. He tries all methods of reclaiming him, and making him return to himself; and it is only when he has lost all hopes of his amendment that he carries matters to such an extremity. A master ought in his sphere to observe the same rule. I say just the same of indocility and disobedience, when they are accompanied with obstinacy, or an air of arrogance, contempt and rebellion. But there is a particular kind of obstinacy with respect to study, and which we may call obstinate idleness, which commonly creates a great deal of trouble to masters, and that is, when children will learn nothing unless they be forced to it. I own nothing is more embarrassing, or more difficult to manage than this character, especially, if insensibility and indifference be joined with indolence, as is not uncommon. ’Tis in such a case, particularly, that a master stands in need of all his prudence, and of all his art, to render study, if not agreeable, at least not nauseous to his disciple, by mixing severity with mildness, threats with promises, punishments with rewards. When nothing else will succeed, one may have recourse to chastisement, but not daily and customarily; for such a remedy is worse than the disease. When punishment is necessary, there are proper times or seasons, and there is a proper manner of inflicting it. No less address and dexterity is requisite in treating the distempers of the mind than in managing those of the body. Nothing is more dangerous to the former than a cure unseasonably applied. A wise physician watches the favourable moment for applying his remedy: He waits till the patient is in a condition to bear it: The first rule therefore, with regard to the chastisement of children, is not to punish them in the very instant they are found in a fault, lest they be irritated and pushed by such severity to extremity: But time ought to be given them to come to themselves, and perceive their fault, and the necessity or justice of punishing them for it, that they may thus be in a condition for profiting by chastisement. The master ought never to punish in passion or anger, more especially, if the fault committed anywise regard his own person in particular. He ought to bear in mind that fine saying of Seneca to a slave, with whom he had reason to be angry, ‘I would punish you as you have deserved, were I not in passion.’ ’Twere to be wished that all persons invested with authority over others were in this respect like the laws, which punish without any commotion or disquiet, and that purely for the sake of justice and public good. The scholar soon perceives the least appearance of wrath in his master’s face or tone of voice, and then he is apt to conclude, that it is not so much his regard to his duty, as the ardor of his passion that instigates him: And there needs no more to render punishment quite fruitless; because the youngest children are sensible that it is reason alone that hath a right to correct. As punishment ought very rarely to be inflicted, so all fit means ought to be used to make it answer its end. Shew, for instance, a child all you have done to avoid coming to this extremity. Let him see that you are really grieved to be forced to it. Speak often in his hearing to other persons of the unhappiness of those who have so little regard to honour and reason, that there is a necessity for using severities with them. Retrench the ordinary marks of your love, till you find that he begins to want consolation. Let the punishment be private or public, as you shall find it necessary for the child’s good, to shew him your tenderness, or to bring him to greater shame. Let public shame be reserved for your last resource. Make use sometimes of some reasonable person to take proper pains with him to bring him to himself, to whom he is likely to open his mind with more freedom than he dare to you. But, above all, let it be evident that you desire no other submissions of him but what are reasonable. Endeavour to convince him, so that he may condemn himself, and so nothing may remain for you to do but to mitigate his punishment. These general rules ought to be applied according to particular circumstances. But if the youth is insensible to honour or shame, care ought to be taken that the first punishment be such as will work its end in place of a more noble motive. I need not say that blows on the head or face are absolutely forbidden to masters by universal consent. They ought not to punish but to correct, and passion cannot correct. Let a master but ask himself if it is in cold blood, and without any emotion he gives a blow to a child? Anger, which is itself a vice, can it be a proper remedy for curing the vices of others?

“No less precaution and prudence are necessary in giving reprimands than in inflicting corporal chastisements; because there is more frequent occasion for the former, and the consequences of them may be equally pernicious. To render them of use, there are three things principally to be observed, the cause, the time, and the manner of giving them. ’Tis not an uncommon error to have recourse to reproof for very slight faults, hardly avoidable by children: And this takes off all their force, and renders them fruitless when they are proper. I have not forgot the observation I have already quoted from Quintilian, that the way to punish rarely is to admonish often. ‘Quo saepius monuerit hoc rarius castigabit.’38 But there is a distinction between admonitions and reprimands. The former savour more of the friend than of the master. They are always accompanied with an air and tone of sweetness, which makes them agreeably received, and therefore they may often be used. But because reproofs always provoke self-love, and not unfrequently borrow a severe mien and tone, they ought to be reserved for the more considerable defaults, and consequently be seldomer employed. The prudence of a master chiefly shews itself, by taking the proper moments when the mind of the young offender is best disposed to profit by correction. These moments Virgil elegantly calls, ‘Molles aditus, mollissima fandi tempora’; and in discerning these he places the address of a negotiator, ‘Quibus rebus dexter modus.’39 Never reprove a child, says Mr. de Fenelon,40 neither in his nor your first emotion. If you do it in yours, he may perceive that you act precipitantly and in anger, and are not moved by reason or love; and thus you will irrecoverably lose your authority: If, while he is in heat, his mind cannot be free or calm enough to avow his fault, overcome his passion, and perceive the utility and reasonableness of your advice: Let him always see that you are absolute master of yourself; and nothing can better evidence that than your patience and calmness. Watch him every moment for several days, if it be necessary, till you catch a proper time for correcting him. ’Tis indeed a very difficult matter to give correction and reproof in a profitable manner. The reason is, because the affair we undertake is, to make men perceive what they do not like to perceive: It is attacking self-love in its tenderest and most sensible part, and where it never yields without violent resistance and struggling. One loves himself whatever he be, and will needs find out reasons for justifying his self-conceit: Hence it is, that various deceitful colours are studied for varnishing over our defects or faults. And therefore it is not to be wondered at, if men take it amiss to be contradicted or condemned, because thus an attack is made at one and the same time upon a mistaken understanding and a corrupted heart. This it is that renders correction and reprimand so delicate a matter to manage. We must let nothing appear to a youth that may mar the end of reproof. We must therefore avoid provoking his anger by harsh words, or his pride by marks of contempt. Let not matters be exaggerated; and it would be right even never to tell a child of a fault without shewing him how he may surmount or remedy it. Parents and masters, says Cicero, are sometimes obliged to use a high tone of voice and strong words in their corrections, but that ought rarely to be done, as physicians only have recourse to certain medicines in extremity. And reprimands, however strong it may be necessary that they should be, ought to have nothing harsh or incensing in them; for if anger mixes in any degree with punishment, it entirely spoils it of its effect. Let the child see that if we use strong terms, it is with regret, and purely for his good. We may reckon upon it, that reproofs have had their full success when they bring the youth to acknowledge his fault, and to desire to have his failures pointed out to him, and to receive the advices given him with docility. When we have gained so much, we have made great progress. For the child who desires to improve, has already made considerable proficiency. ’Tis a sure mark of a solid judgment, and a good mind, when one becomes sensible of faults to which his eyes had hitherto been shut, as it is a good sign when the patient begins to feel his sores. Some children are naturally of such a happy disposition that it is enough to shew them their duty: They do not need long lectures from masters, but immediately discern the fair and fit, and yield themselves to truth and reason. Seneca calls such, Rapacia virtutis ingenia.41 There are, we may say, such sparks of all the virtues in these minds, as require but very gentle blowing to be kindled into a bright flame: But such characters are rarer, and want but little guidance. There are others who have indeed a very good natural foundation, but their minds seem to be block’d up against instruction, either because they have not had early instruction to open their minds, or because, being brought up in a soft manner, and in total ignorance of their duty, they have contracted many bad habits, which are a kind of rust that it is very difficult to remove. Such stand most in need of masters; yet masters seldom fail of correcting and reforming their faults, when they employ much mildness and patience for that effect. These methods may be called, in one word, using reason with children, acting always without choler, and always giving a reason for your conduct towards them. We ought, says Mr. de Fenelon, to try all means of making those things which we exact of young people agreeable to them. If you have any thing laborious or troublesome to propose to them, give them to understand, that the pleasure that is to ensue to them from it, will abundantly recompense their pain: Never fail to let them see the advantage of whatever you teach them; the use of it in life and civil commerce. Tell them it is to qualify them for doing what they must one day do: It is in order to ripen their judgments; it is to accustom them to reason solidly and judiciously about the affairs of life. ’Tis proper always to point out to them a useful or agreeable end of their labour, that may support them in it: And they ought never to be put upon any thing by mere force or absolute authority. When they deserve, whether punishment or rebuke, they themselves should be led to perceive the necessity of correcting them, and be asked whether they think it possible to treat them in any other manner. I have been astonished, says Mr. Rollin, to see, when the reasonable but provoking necessity of chastisement, or a public rebuke, might have chagrined scholars, and tempted them to rebellion, what impression the account I gave them of my conduct made upon them, and how they condemned themselves, and consented that I could not deal otherwise with them. For I owe this justice to all who have ever been under my tuition, to acknowledge here, that I have almost always found them very reasonable, tho’ they were not exempt from all faults. Children are much sooner capable of understanding reason than we are apt to imagine, and they naturally love to be treated as reasonable creatures from their tenderest years. And this good disposition ought carefully to be cherished in them: We ought to make good use of this sentiment of honour, and employ it as a very proper handle to turn them towards virtue. They are likewise very sensible to praise, and masters ought to take hold of this disposition, and endeavour to make a virtue of it. It would discourage them never to commend them when they do well. And tho’ praise is a little dangerous, on account of its tendency to intoxicate with vain conceit; yet it may be employed to animate youth without puffing them up. For of all the motives proper to affect a reasonable soul, there are none which have more force than a sense of honour and shame: Indeed, when we have formed in youth a delicate sense of these, all is gained. They feel a sincere pleasure in being applauded by their parents, and those on whom they depend, more especially. If they therefore caress them and give them praise when they behave well, and if they look down upon them and slight them when they do wrong, and if they make it a rule to themselves to treat their children uniformly and steadily in this manner, this management will make much deeper impression upon them than menaces or even corporal punishments. But to render this usage truly beneficial, two things are to be observed. First of all, when parents or masters are cold or indifferent to children, all others who are about them ought to behave in the same manner towards them, that they may find no consolation for the just anger of their parents or preceptors, in the caresses of governesses or servants. For then they are necessitated to reflect on their faults, and they can’t choose but conceive an aversion against what brings such a general contempt upon them. In the second place, when parents or masters have once assumed a sour or cold look, they must take care not, as it often happens, to lay it very soon aside, and put on their former tenderness and cheerfulness. For if they manage children in this way, it will soon be perceived that their reprimands are but a storm that quickly passes away. Children ought therefore not to be restored to favour, till their care to reform their faults has sufficiently evinced the sincerity of their professed repentance for them. Recompences ought to be employed in education; for tho’ these, no more than praise, ought to be the principal motive that actuates them, yet both may be rendered subservient to the promotion of virtuous dispositions in them, both may be employed to animate and spur them on in their studies. Is it not fit and advantageous that they should know, that they can never suffer, but must always gain by good behaviour, and therefore that their interest, as well as their duty, should engage them to perform carefully and diligently what is required of them, whether with relation to study or conduct? But recompences ought to be wisely chosen, as well as judiciously applied. One certain rule with regard to this matter, to which, however, for ordinary, very little attention is paid, is, that dress, finery, or delicacy, or other things of these kinds, ought never to be presented to their minds under the idea of rewards. The reason is obvious. ’Tis by promising such things to them under the notion of recompences, that a taste, liking, and propensity towards them is engendered and raised in their minds: ’Tis thus they are inspired with esteem for what they ought to despise. The same rule holds with respect to money, the passion for which is so much the more dangerous that it is so general, and that it must grow up with age. They ought to be inured to consider money in no other view but as the means of doing good to others. I have known several scholars, who of their own proper motion and accord divided any money that was given them into three parts, one of which was destined to charitable uses, another to purchase books, and the remainder to their innocent diversions. Children may be recompensed by allowing them innocent amusements, which require a little activity and industry; by taking them out to walk, at which time conversation may be used to great advantage; and by little presents of books, pictures, prints, or by carrying them to see curiosities or rarities of nature or art, as the art of printing, for instance, or any ingenious manufacture. The wisdom of parents and masters lies in contriving proper rewards, and in diversifying them, inciting a liking to them or desire of them; in keeping a certain fit order in the distribution of them, by beginning always with the more simple, and making these last as long as possible. But above all, let promises to them be punctually performed: Let this be an indispensible rule in the government of youth. For one of the vices we ought to take the greatest care to correct, or rather to prevent, is lying: Against this, too great an aversion or abhorrence cannot be raised. We must always speak of it to them as something base, unworthy, cowardly, that absolutely dishonours a person, and that is not to be born with even in slaves. Dissimulation, equivocation, and feigned excuses, approach very near to this vice, or at least never fail to draw into it. And therefore children ought early to know, that twenty faults will much sooner be pardoned than one simple disguisement of the truth to cover other faults. For which reason, when the child candidly confesses his fault, let his ingenuity be applauded, and his transgression be forgiven, without ever upbraiding him for it, or even so much as mentioning it to him afterwards, unless it becomes a mere ruse in him to escape correction; for then it is incompatible with candour and sincerity. All that youth hear from their masters or parents, ought to conspire to inflame their minds with the love of virtue and truth, and to excite their abhorrence of doubleness or falshood. And therefore we ought never to use any blind to please them, or prevail with them to do what we would have them to do: Never to make any promises or threats which they know are not to be executed. For this way of treating them would but teach and confirm them in the cunning to which they commonly have very early but too strong a propension. Accustom them to tell freely and ingenuously what gives them pleasure or pain: And let them understand that cunning always bewrays a bad heart; because one only has recourse to it to hide what he really is, or to give himself an appearance of being what he is not: lead them to remark the ridicule of certain artifices others may have used; the bad success such arts commonly have, and the contempt they generally bring upon those who use them. Make them ashamed when you catch them dissembling; and sometimes deprive them of what they like, because they shewed a disposition to get it by little cunning arts; and assure them they shall have what they ask honestly and without disguise. ’Tis on this point, chiefly, that we ought to pique their sense of honour. Shew them the difference between a child who is sincere and loves truth, in whom every body places entire confidence, because he is looked upon as incapable of lying or dissembling, and another of whom one is always suspicious and diffident, and to whose words none gives any credit, even when he tells truth. Be sure to put them often in mind of what Cornelius Nepos (and Plutarch gives the same encomium to Aristotle) observes of Epaminondas, that he was such a lover of veracity that he never would lie, not so much as in jest.42 What I have been saying proves it to be the indispensible duty of parents and masters, to be very strict to truth in all their dealings with those under their care; the indispensible duty of masters, in particular: For in truth, according to the common course of the world, it is their business to defend their pupils against the bad influence of the conversation and example even of parents, as well as against the false prejudices and wicked principles that are authorised by too general practice. They ought to be to their scholars their faithful guardians and monitors, which, as Seneca speaks, are to take care to preserve and deliver them from popular errors, and to inspire into them principles founded on and conformable to reason. They themselves ought therefore to be so deeply impregnated with the sincere love of reason and truth, as never to think or speak but with prudence and veracity. For nothing can be done or said before children which has not some effect upon them: ’Tis upon what they hear and see that they model themselves. ’Tis from the discourses and practices of those about them they imbibe their first and most lasting notions and passions. For this reason it is, that Quintilian, as we have already observed, so frequently exhorts masters to speak frequently to their pupils of honesty and candour. And Seneca tells us what excellent impressions his master’s discourses of this kind made upon him. The passage is exceeding beautiful:43 ‘Scarcely can one imagine what force good discourse has upon youth, or how strongly it influences the young mind. For the flexible tender hearts of children are easily turned towards virtue. Being docile, and not yet infected by any corruptive contagion, truth very easily finds admittance into their minds, provided it but meets with an intelligent advocate to plead its cause, and display its merit to them. For my own part, when I heard Attalus inveigh against any vice, any disorderly practice, or any irregularity in life, I pitied mankind, and thought nothing estimable but a man capable of such sentiments. When he set himself to describe the advantages of poverty, and to prove that all above a moderate competency ought to be regarded as a useless, a troublesome burden, he made me in love with poverty. If he decried vitious pleasures and praised chastity, frugality, sobriety, and purity of soul, I found myself heartily disposed to renounce all pleasures, even the most innocent and legitimate. But there is a shorter and surer way yet of conducting the young to the love of virtue, and that is by good example. For the language of actions is much stronger and more persuasive than that of words. “Longum iter est per praecepta, breve & efficax per exempla.”44 ’Tis a great happiness when youth meet with masters whose whole lives are one continued lesson: Masters whose actions never belie their instructions, but who do what they advise, and avoid what they blame, and who are yet more admired for their conduct than for their learning or eloquence.’

“Now, is there any thing wanting in what hath been said concerning the duties of parents and preceptors? I think not. And yet let me tell Christians, that all hitherto is taken from pagan writers: ’Tis from Lycurgus, Plato, Cicero, Seneca, Quintilian, I have borrowed all these instructions I have been giving, conformity to which would render education an unfailing source of virtue, and therefore of public and private happiness. ’Tis plain, from what hath been said, that it is vice only that ought to be punished, and not unattentiveness or heedlesness, or any other faults in learning languages, or even sciences. Here all that can be done is to render study as agreeable as possible. But as this is the most important, so it is the most difficult art in the institution of youth. For among the vast number of masters who do not want merit in other regards, how few are there that are capable of succeeding in this point? Good success in it depends much upon the first impressions that are made upon young minds, and consequently, upon the great attentiveness of those masters who are employed in teaching the first elements to children, to prevent their conceiving any aversion to reading and study, which at first they cannot like, lest the disagreeableness of it should be remembered, and follow them to a more advanced age. In order to this, says Quintilian,45 study should be made a play or amusement to children: Let a sprouting genius be flattered and encouraged to shew itself, by asking him little simple questions, and be animated by praise and commendation, that the infant may have ground to be content with himself, and pleased with his having learned something. Sometimes it may be proper to teach another what one refuses to learn or attend to, in order to provoke his jealousy and emulation. Enter also into little disputations sometimes with children, and let them have a seeming victory over you: Endeavour likewise to bait or engage them to study, by recompenses suited to their age. But the great secret, says Quintilian, for rendering study agreeable to young minds, is the master’s knowing how to make himself beloved by them. When this is the case, they willingly hearken to him, they chearfully yield to his teaching, they are desirous to gain and keep his favour, and thus they take a pleasure and pride in receiving his lessons; nay, they even receive his admonitions and corrections with submission: being very sensible to his applause, they exert themselves to merit his friendship, by acquitting themselves well, and doing their duty with complacency and good grace. There is in the minds of children, as well as of men, a natural fund of curiosity, that is, a desire to understand, know and learn, of which great advantages may be made, in order to render learning pleasant and delightsome. All they see being new to them they naturally ask questions, and demand the names and uses of every thing that presents itself to them. We ought therefore to answer their interrogatories without shewing any chagrin or uneasiness, any marks of dissatisfaction with their curiosity; we ought rather to applaud it, and endeavour to content it, by the clearest and exactest answers to their questions we can devise: We ought never to rebuke them, or to trifle with them: But above all, we ought never to put them off with blinds, or to prevaricate with them, and endeavour to deceive or impose upon them. For this they will soon discover, and the discovery will have a very bad effect upon their minds, as hath been already observed in this treatise. In every art and science, the beginnings, the first rudiments are dry and insipid, and consequently forbidding. And for this reason, it is of moment to abridge and facilitate the toil of learning them as much as can be done, or to take off as much as may be from their harshness, by mixing as much sweetness with the draught as possible. ’Tis on this account I think the way of beginning by reading and explaining authors to young folks preferable to that of making them compose themes; because the latter is more irksome and difficult, and exposes them more to reprimands and chastisements. In private education, a skilful, well-qualified master does all he can to make study palatable and of easy digestion, so to speak. He waits for proper opportunities of teaching, studies the taste, temper, and genius of his pupil; he mixes play and amusement with labour and study; he seems to leave matters to their own choice; he avoids formality in giving his lessons; he keeps up and quickens their appetite by means of little interruptions; in one word, he turns himself into a thousand shapes, and invents a thousand arts for accomplishing his end. In colleges or large schools many of these arts are not practicable. In a numerous class, preservation of order and discipline demands a certain regularity and uniformity which all must exactly observe, and which is therefore an embarassment upon masters, that renders their accommodating themselves to different tempers and genius’s almost impossible. It requires great prudence, great address, to govern with steady reins a great number of youth of differing characters; some lively to impetuosity, others phlegmatic and slow; some whom it is necessary to keep in with bit and bridle; others to whom you must give head; others who want a goad or spurring.—It is extremely difficult, I say, to manage at the same time so great a diversity of minds, so as to bring all, notwithstanding all differences of humour, ability and character, to the same goal, in the same path or tract. It must be acknowledged, that it is this that makes the principal difficulty with respect to public education; it is this that renders it a work of so much prudence and patience. But in instructing youth, this essential principle is ever to be kept in view, ‘That study depends upon the will, and admits not of violence or constraint.’ ‘Studium discendi, voluntate quae cogi non potest, constat.’46 You may confine a youth within the school, double his labour by way of punishment, force him to fulfil his appointed task, or deprive him of play and recreation if he don’t. But to labour thus like a galley-slave under the rod, is that to study? Or what can be the fruit of this drudgery, and the austerity forcing to it, but hatred to books, and study, science, instruction and teachers, for their whole after-life? ’Tis the heart, the will that must be gained, and they can only be gained by mildness, by friendship, good-will, persuasion, and by the allures of pleasure, exciting a desire in youth to be instructed and become knowing: And let lessons be as much diversified as possible: Keep them not long at a time about mere words: Nay, let them feel that they are never learning mere vocables or phrases, but are always gaining some real knowledge that will be useful to them, that fits them at least for conversation, and gains them approbation and esteem. Teaching philosophy, or the knowledge of nature and mankind, admits of great diversification without breaking its unity; and so likewise do lessons upon any language. Hardly can we read any author with young people suited to their age, in which maps, medals, prints of statues, bas-reliefs, &c. have not naturally place as the best helps; and they are adminicles that wonderfully entertain, please and enlarge the mind. For a reward to a little application in getting words, let them be instructed in some part of science, amused with some useful experiment, with the description and anatomy of some plant or of some animal, or with the history of some great man’s actions or sayings, or some other such moral lesson. Travel with them, by way of recompence to some dry labour, over some part of the globe, and give them an account of its soil, climate, product, government, manners and customs, great men and principal revolutions. Take these and such- like methods of rewarding their more insipid tasks, and at the same time, facilitate what is really drudgery as much as possible, and you will find young minds grow in curiosity, and wonderfully expand and strengthen by such care, if the master be withal of a gentle and gracious temper and carriage, and knows how to mingle, in due proportions, familiarity and facetiousness with gravity and seriousness.” The greater part of these observations and advices are delivered to us by Plato, Cicero, Quintilian, and other ancient observers of human nature, from their experience. And we have laid them together almost in the order Mr. Rollin has given them to us in his excellent treatise upon teaching the belles-lettres and sciences, because so ranged they make a system; and they thus come to us with the additional confirmation of his own experience, together with that of Mr. de Fenelon and Mr. Nicol, and others of the best men, as well as best writers of that country: And upon comparison, they will be found perfectly agreeable to the sentiments of two of our own greatest men upon the important subject of education, Mr. Locke, whom we have already so often quoted, and Mr. Milton, whose incomparable piece on education deserves the most serious perusal of all concerned in the formation of youth. What we have said in the former part of this chapter concerning grammar, is exactly conformable to Mr. Milton’s47 opinion about this matter, as well as Mr. Locke’s.48 He justly considers rhetoric as making a part of logic. And beginning with logic in teaching philosophy, he, agreeably to the doctrine of Plato concerning this matter, represents as very absurd. For, if the business of logic be to teach the art of communicating or imparting knowledge to others, in an orderly, perspicuous and agreeable manner, does it not presuppose a mind already well freighted with substantial knowledge? Or if its business be to range ideas into categories, classes, or tribes, and observe their relations and dependencies, or differences, does not such work suppose a mind well stored with various ideas, previously collected by various observation and reading? If the end and intention of logic be to compare various sorts of reasoning amongst themselves, and hence to draw general rules for improving knowledge, searching into nature, making experiments, inferring conclusions from particular observations, and avoiding error, can any one be fit for this nicely critical work without being acquainted by use with all the variety of certain and probable evidence, without having been practised in reasoning and concluding in very different manners about a great diversity of objects? Or if the end of logic and rhetoric be to lead youth to make reflections upon the imperfections and abuses of words; the puzling obscurities in which the plainest matters may be involved by words, the various arts of moving the passions, and the sources and rules of all the different species of elegant composition, is this proper work for raw, unfurnished, empty, unexperienced minds? Do we take, says Plato, an inventary of an empty house? Or would we employ one in furnishing a house, and ranging and inventarying its furniture and utensils, who is an utter stranger to houshold arts, and the implements these require, and their respective uses? Do we send one to count without arithmetick, or to measure without a standard?

All that has hitherto been said, will, we think, receive no small confirmation from the account left us by Plato and Xenophon, concerning the education of the Persian princes and nobles. The manner of educating the future master of the empire in Persia, is admired by Plato, and recommended to the Greeks as a perfect model for a prince’s education. He was never wholly committed to the care of the nurse, who however generally was a woman of mean and low condition; but from among the chief officers of the houshold, some of the most approved merit and probity were chosen to take care of the young prince’s person and health till he was seven years of age, and to begin to form his manners and behaviour. He was then taken from them and put into the hands of other masters, who were to continue the care of his education, to teach him to ride as soon as his strength would permit, and to exercise him in hunting. At fourteen years of age, when the mind begins to open and attain to some maturity, four of the wisest and most virtuous men of the state were appointed to be his governors or preceptors. The first taught him magic, that is in their language, the worship of the Gods, according to their ancient maxims, and the laws of Zoroaster the son of Oromasus; he also instructed him in the principles of government. The second was to accustom him to speak truth and to administer justice. The third was to teach him not to be overcome by pleasures, that he might be truly a king, and always free, and master of himself and his desires. The fourth was to fortify his courage against fear, which would have made him a slave, and to inspire him with a noble and prudent assurance, so necessary for those that are born to command. Each of these governors excell’d in his way, and was eminent in that part of education assigned to him. One was particularly distinguished for his knowledge in religion and the art of governing. Another for his love of truth and justice: This for his moderation and abstinence from pleasures: That for a superior strength of mind and uncommon intrepidity. I do not know, says a very ingenious writer, whether such a diversity of masters, who, without doubt were of different tempers, and had perhaps different interests in view, was proper to answer the end proposed; or whether it was possible that four men should agree together in the same principles, and harmoniously pursue the same end. Probably the reason of having so many was, that they apprehended it impossible to find any one person possessed of all the qualities they judged necessary for giving a right education to the presumptive heir of the crown; so great an idea had they of the importance of a prince’s education. Be this as it will, it is well worth our notice, that all this care, as Plato himself remarks in the same place, was frustrated by the luxury, pomp and magnificence with which the young prince was surrounded; by the numerous train of attendants that served him with a servile submission; by all the appurtenances and equipage of a voluptuous, effeminate life of pleasure: the invention of new diversions seemed to engross all his attention: Dangers which the most excellent disposition could never surmount: The corrupt manners of the nation therefore quickly debauched the prince, and drew him into the reigning pleasures, against which the best education is hardly a sufficient defence. The education here spoken of by Plato can only relate to the children of Artaxerxes surnamed Longimanus, the son and successor of Xerxes, in whose time lived Alcibiades, who is introduced in the dialogue whence this observation is taken. For Plato elsewhere informs us, that neither Cyrus nor Darius ever thought of giving the princes their sons a good education: And what we find in history concerning Artaxerxes Longimanus, gives us reason to believe, that he was more careful than his predecessors in the point of educating his children, but was not much imitated, in that respect by his successors. It was strange, indeed, that Cyrus, who was so good a prince, and knew so well, by his own experience, the happy effects of good education, should have been so negligent about that of his sons. For he had been brought up according to the laws and customs of the Persians, which were, according to Xenophon’s account of them, in his Cyropoedeia, excellent in those days with respect to education. The public good, the common benefit of the nation, was the only principle and end of all their laws. The education of children was looked upon as the most important duty, and the most essential part of government. It was not totally left to the care of fathers and mothers, whose blind affection and fondness often render them incapable of that office; but the state took it upon themselves. Boys were all brought up in common, after one uniform manner, where every thing was regulated, the place and length of their exercises, the times of eating, the quality of their meat and drink, and their different kinds of punishment. The only food allowed either the children or the young men was bread, cresses and water; for their design was to accustom them early to temperance and sobriety: Besides, they considered that so frugal and plain a diet, without any mixture of sauces or ragouts, would enable them to undergo the hardships and fatigues of war to a good old age. Here boys went to school to learn justice and virtue, as they do in other places, to learn arts and sciences; and the crime most severely punished was ingratitude. The design of the Persians in all these wise regulations, was to prevent vice, being convinced how much better it is to prevent faults than to punish them: And whereas, in other states, the legislators are satisfied with establishing punishments for criminals, the Persians endeavoured so to order it as to have no criminals amongst them. Till sixteen or seventeen years of age the boys remained in the class of children; and here it was they learn’d to draw the bow, and to fling the dart or javelin; after which they were received into the class of young men. In this they were more narrowly watched and kept under than before, because that age requires the narrowest inspection, and has the greatest need of restraint. Here they remained ten years, during which time they passed all their nights in keeping guards, as well for the safety of the city, as to inure them to fatigue. In the day time they waited upon their governors to receive their orders, attended the king when he went a hunting, or improved in their exercises. The third class consisted of men grown up and formed; and in this they remained five and twenty years. Out of them all the officers that were to command in the troops, and all such as were to fill the different posts and commands or employments in the state, were chosen. When they were turned of fifty, they were not obliged to carry arms out of their own country. Besides these there was a fourth class, from whence men of the greatest wisdom and experience were chosen for forming the public council, and presiding in the courts of judicature. By this means, every citizen might aspire at the chief posts in the government, but not one could arrive at them till he had passed through all these several classes, and made himself capable of them by all these exercises. The classes were open to all; but generally such only, as were rich enough to maintain their children without working sent them thither.

I do not quote this extraordinary care of a state about education as a model that can or ought to be exactly followed in every form of civil government, but as one from which excellent maxims of government, and for the regulation of the most essential part in it, viz. education, may be gathered, abundantly confirming the more material observations that have been already mentioned, with relation to the chief end to be proposed and pursued in the institution and formation of youth, of those in particular whose birth and fortune call upon them to qualify themselves early for high and important offices in their country’s service. The sentiments of the best sages of Greece, in her more glorious days, have been fairly represented and fully discoursed upon in the former part of this work. Here we shall only take notice, that in after-times, even when the affairs and manners of Greece were sadly declined, we are assured that in the schools at Apollonia, whither Julius Caesar sent Octavius to be educated, in order to be qualified for succeeding him in the empire, care was taken to instruct youth in the arts of speaking and writing, but principal care was taken first of all to improve their reason and replenish their understandings with the most useful science, the knowledge of human obligations, which did not stop short at the more general and obvious duties of life, but went higher, and comprehended the arts and maxims of government, and all the laws of nature and nations relative to political affairs, the rights of war and peace, treaties, alliances, commerce, and in one word, all external or internal businesses of states and public magistrates; and to this teaching they joined such exercises as fitted for military command. To this school was Maecenas also sent, and there did he lay the foundation of his friendship with Augustus, which was of so great use to that prince afterwards. For Maecenas it was that gave this emperor a turn towards the muses; and to him chiefly was it owing that the government of an absolute prince, who in the first part of his conduct gave terrible proofs of a cruel temper, became afterwards so sufferable, which is the best that can be said of his or any arbitrary reign, however artfully it may be softened and sweetened. Chains are still chains, how much soever they are gilded or adorned.

We have already given some account of the first or most early part of Cicero’s education from an excellent writer of his life, and we shall here add what the same author hath collected to us from Cicero himself chiefly, concerning the subsequent and finishing parts of the same great man’s studies and exercises, by which he became so early capable of rendering the most eminent services to his friends and to his country in very difficult times.49

“After finishing the course of his puerile studies, before described, it was the custom to change the habit of the boy for that of the man, and take what they called the manly gown, or the ordinary robe of the citizens. This was an occasion of great joy to the young man, who by this change passed into a state of greater liberty and enlargement from the power of their tutors. They were introduced at the same time into the Forum, or the great square of the city, where the assemblies of the people were held, and the magistrates used to harangue them from the Rostra, and where all the public pleadings and judicial proceedings were usually transacted: This therefore was the grand school of business and eloquence; the scene on which all the affairs of the empire were determined, and where the foundation of their hopes and fortunes were to be laid: So that they were introduced into it with much solemnity, attended by all the friends and dependents of the family; and after divine rites performed in the capitol, were committed to the special protection of some eminent senator, distinguished for his eloquence or knowledge of the laws, to be instructed by his advice in the management of civil affairs, and to form themselves, by his example, for useful members and magistrates of the republic. Writers are divided about the precise time of changing the puerile for the manly gown: What seems the most probable is, that in the old republic it was never done till the end of the seventeenth year: But when the ancient discipline began to relax, parents out of indulgence to their children, advanced this aera of joy one year earlier, and gave them the gown at sixteen, which was the custom in Cicero’s time. Under the Emperors it was granted at pleasure, and at any age, to the great, or their own relations, for Nero received it from Claudius, when he just entered into his fourteenth year, which, as Tacitus says, was given before the regular season. Cicero being thus introduced into the Forum, was placed under the care of Q. Minucius Scaevola the augur, the principal lawyer as well as Statesman of that age; who had passed thro’ all the offices of the republic with a singular reputation of integrity, and was now extremely old: Cicero never stirred from his side, but carefully treasured up in his memory all the remarkable sayings which dropt from him, as so many lessons of prudence for his future conduct; and after his death applied himself to another of the same family, Scaevola the High-Priest, a person of equal character for probity and skill in the law; who, tho’ he did not profess to teach, yet freely gave his advice to all the young students who consulted him. Under these masters he acquired a complete knowledge of the laws of his country; a foundation useful to all who design to enter into public affairs, and thought to be of such consequence at Rome, that it was the common exercise of boys at school, to learn the laws of the twelve tables by heart, as they did their poets and classic authors. Cicero particularly took such pains in this study, and was so well acquainted with the most intricate parts of it, as to be able to sustain a dispute on any question with the greatest lawyers of his age; so that in pleading once against his friend S. Sulpicius, he declared by way of raillery, what he could have made good likewise in fact, that if he provoked him, he would profess himself a lawyer in three days time.

“The profession of the law, next to that of arms and eloquence, was a sure recommendation to the first honours of the republic, and for that reason was preserved, as it were hereditary, in some of the noblest families of Rome; who, by giving their advice gratis to all who wanted it, engaged the favour and observance of their fellow-citizens, and acquired great authority in all the affairs of state. It was the custom of those old senators, eminent for their wisdom and experience, to walk every morning up and down the Forum, as a signal of their offering themselves freely to all who had occasion to consult them, not only in cases of law, but in their private and domestic affairs. But in later times, they chose to sit at home with their doors open, on a kind of throne or raised seat, like the confessors in foreign churches, giving access and audience to all people. This was the case of the two Scaevola’s, especially the augur, whose house was called the oracle of the city, and who in the Marsic war, when worn out with age and infirmities, gave a free admission every day to all the citizens, as soon as it was light, nor was ever seen by any in his bed during that whole war. But this was not the point that Cicero aimed at, to guard the estates only of the citizens: His views were much larger; and the knowledge of the law was but one ingredient of many, in the character which he aspired to of an universal patron, not only of the fortunes, but of the lives and liberties of his countrymen: For that was the proper notion of an orator or pleader of causes, whose profession it was, To speak aptly, elegantly, and copiously on every subject which could be offered to him, and whose art therefore included in it all arts of the liberal kind, and could not be acquired to any perfection, without a competent knowledge of whatever was great and laudable in the universe.

“This was his own idea of what he had undertaken; and his present business therefore was, to lay a foundation fit to sustain the weight of this great character: So that while he was studying the law under the Scaevola’s, he spent a large share of his time in attending the pleadings at the bar, and the public speeches of the magistrates, and never passed one day without writing and reading something at home, constantly taking notes, and making comments on what he read. He was fond, when very young, of an exercise which had been recommended by some of the great orators before him, of reading over a number of verses of some esteemed poet, or a part of an oration, so carefully as to retain the substance of them in his memory, and then deliver the same sentiments in different words, the most elegant that occurred to him. But he soon grew weary of this, upon reflecting, that his authors had already employed the best words which belonged to their subject; so that if he used the same it would do him no good, and if different would even hurt him, by a habit of using worse. He applied himself therefore to another task of more certain benefit, to translate into Latin the select speeches of the best Greek orators, which gave him an opportunity of observing and employing all the most elegant words of his own language, and of enriching it at the same time with new ones, borrowed or imitated from the Greek. Nor did he yet neglect his poetical studies; for he now translated Aratus on the phaenomena of the heavens into Latin verse, of which many fragments are still extant; and published also an original poem of the heroic kind, in honour of his Countryman C. Marius. This was much admired, and often read by Atticus; and old Scaevola was so well pleased with it, that in an Epigram which he seems to have made upon it, he declares, that it would live as long as the Roman name and learning subsisted. There remains still a little specimen of it, describing a memorable omen given to Marius from the oak of Arpinum, which, from the spirit and elegance of the description, shews, that his poetical genius was scarce inferior to his oratorial, if it had been cultivated with the same diligence. He published another poem also called Limon, of which Donatus has preserved four lines in the life of Terence, in praise of the elegance and purity of that poet’s stile. But while he was employing himself in these juvenile exercises for the improvement of his invention, he applied himself with no less industry to philosophy, for the enlargement of his mind and understanding; and among his other masters, was very fond, at this age, of Phaedrus the Epicurean: But as soon as he had gained a little more experience and judgment of things, he wholly deserted and constantly disclaimed the principles of that sect; yet always retained a particular esteem for the man, on account of his learning, humanity and politeness. The peace of Rome was now disturbed by a domestic war, which writers call the Italic, Social, or Marsic, during the hurry of which, the business of the Forum was intermitted; the greatest part of the magistrates, as well as the pleaders, being personally concerned in it: Hortensius, the most flourishing young orator at the bar, was a volunteer in it the first year, and commanded a regiment the second. Cicero likewise took the opportunity to make a campaign, along with the Consul Cn. Pompeius Strabo, the father of Pompey the great. This was a constant part of the education of the young nobility; to learn the art of war by personal service under some general of name and experience; for in an empire raised and supported wholly by arms, a reputation of martial virtue was the shortest and surest way of rising to its highest honours; and the constitution of the government was such, that as their generals could not make a figure, even in camps, without some institution in the politer arts, especially that of speaking gracefully; so those who applied themselves to the peaceful studies, and the management of civil affairs, were obliged to acquire a com petent share of military skill, for the sake of governing provinces and commanding armies, to which they all succeeded of course, from the administration of the great offices of state. Cicero, we find, was not less diligent in the army than he was in the Forum, to observe every thing that passed; and contrived always to be near the person of the general, that no action of moment might escape his notice. The transactions of the Forum were greatly interrupted by civil dissentions; in which some of the best orators were killed, others banished. Cicero however attended the harangues of the magistrates, who possessed the Rostra in their turns; and being now about the age of twenty one, drew up probably those rhetorical pieces, which were published by him, as he tells us, when very young, and are supposed to be the same that still remain on the subject of invention: But he condemned and retracted them afterwards in his advanced age, as unworthy of his maturer judgment, and the work only of a boy, attempting to digest into order the precepts which he had brought away from the school. In the mean while Philo, a philosopher of the first name in the Academy, with many of the principal Athenians, fled to Rome from the fury of Mithridates, who had made himself master of Athens, and all the neighbouring parts of Greece. Cicero immediately became his scholar, and was exceedingly taken with his philosophy, and by the help of such a professor gave himself up to that study with the greater inclination, as there was cause to apprehend, that the laws and judicial proceedings which he had designed for the ground of his fame and fortunes, would be wholly overturned by the continuance of the public disorders. But Cinna’s party having quelled all opposition at home, while Sylla was engaged abroad in the Mithridatic war, there was a cessation of arms within the city for about three years, so that the course of public business began to flow again in its usual channel; and Molo the Rhodian, one of the principal orators of that age, and the most celebrated teachers of eloquence, happening to come to Rome at the same time, Cicero presently took the benefit of his lectures, and resumed his oratorical studies with the same ardor. But the greatest spur to his industry was the fame and splendor of Hortensius, who made the first figure at the bar, and whose praises fired him with such an ambition of acquiring the same glory, that he scarce allowed himself any rest from his studies either day or night: He had in the house with him Diodatus the stoic, as his preceptor in various parts of learning, but more particularly in logic; which, Zeno, as he tells us, used to call a close and contracted eloquence, as he called eloquence an enlarged and dilated logic; comparing the one to the fist, or hand doubled, the other to the palm opened. Yet with all his attention to logic, he never suffered a day to pass, without some exercise in oratory, chiefly that of declaiming; which he generally performed with his fellow-students, M. Piso and Q. Pompeius, two young noblemen a little older than himself, with whom he had contracted an intimate friendship. They declaimed sometimes in Latin, but much oftener in Greek; because the Greek furnished a greater variety of elegant expressions, and an opportunity of imitating and introducing them into the Latin; and because the Greek masters, who were far the best, could not correct and improve them, unless they declaimed in that language. Cicero, in fine, runs through all that course of discipline which he lays down as necessary to form the complete orator: For in his treatise on that subject, he gives us his own sentiments in the person of Crassus, on the institution requisite to that character, declaring, That no man ought to pretend to it, without being previously acquainted with every thing worth knowing in art or nature; that this is implied in the very name of an orator, whose profession it is to speak upon every subject which can be proposed to him; and whose eloquence, without the knowledge of what he speaks, would be the prattle only and impertinence of children. He had learned the rudiments of grammar and languages from the ablest teachers; gone through the studies of humanity and the politer letters with the poet Archias; been instructed in philosophy by the principal professors of each sect, Phaedrus the Epicurean, Philo the Academic, Diodotus the Stoic; acquired a perfect knowledge of the law from the greatest lawyers, as well as the greatest statesmen of Rome, the two Scaevola’s; all which accomplishments were but ministerial and subservient to that, on which his hopes and ambition were singly placed, the reputation of an orator: To qualify himself therefore particularly for this, he attended the pleadings of all the speakers of his time; heard the daily lectures of the most eminent orators of Greece, and was perpetually composing somewhat at home, and declaiming under their correction: And that he might neglect nothing, which could help in any degree to improve and polish his stile, he spent the intervals of his leisure in the company of the ladies; especially of those who were remarkable for a politeness of language, and whose fathers had been distinguished by a fame and reputation of eloquence. While he studied the law therefore under Scaevola the augur, he frequently conversed with his wife Laelia, whose discourse, he says, was tinctured with all the elegance of her father Laelius, the politest speaker of his age: He was acquainted likewise with her daughter Mucia, who married the great orator L. Crassus, and with her granddaughters, the two Liciniae, one of them the wife of L. Scipio, the other of young Marius, who all excelled in that delicacy of the Latin tongue, which was peculiar to their families, and valued themselves on preserving and propagating it to their posterity.

“Thus adorned and accomplished, he offered himself to the bar about the age of twenty-six, not as others generally did, raw and ignorant of their business, and wanting to be formed to it by use and experience, but finished and qualified at once to sustain any cause which should be committed to him. Two years after he went abroad: And we have a clear account from himself of the real motive of his journey: ‘My body, says he, at this time was exceedingly weak and emaciated, my neck long and small, which is a habit thought liable to great risk of life, if engaged in any fatigue or labour of the lungs; and it gave the greater alarm to those who had a regard for me, that I used to speak without any remission or variation, with the utmost stretch of my voice and great agitation of my body: When my friends therefore and physicians advised me to meddle no more with causes, I resolved to run any hazard, rather than quit the hopes of glory, which I proposed to myself from pleading: But when I considered, that by managing my voice, and changing my way of speaking, I might avoid all danger, and speak with more ease, I took a resolution of travelling into Asia, merely for an opportunity of correcting my manner of speaking: So that after I had been two years at the bar, and acquired a reputation in the Forum, I left Rome, &c.’ He was twenty-eight years old, when he set forward upon his travels to Greece and Asia, the fashionable tour of all those who travelled either for curiosity or improvement: His first visit was to Athens, the capital seat of arts and sciences; where some writers tell us that he spent three years, tho’ in truth it was but six months: He took up his quarters with Antiochus, the principal philosopher of the old academy: And under this excellent master renewed, he says himself, those studies which he had been fond of from his earliest youth. Here he met with his school-fellow T. Pomponius, who, from his love to Athens, and his spending a great part of his days in it, obtained the sirname of Atticus; and here they revived and confirmed that memorable friendship, which subsisted between them through life with so celebrated a constancy and affection. Atticus being an Epicurean, was often drawing Cicero from his host Antiochus to the conversations of Phaedrus and old Zeno, the chief professors of that sect, in hopes of making him a convert, on which subject they used to have many disputes between themselves: But Cicero’s views in these visits was but to convince himself more effectually of the weakness of that doctrine, by observing how easily it might be confuted, when explained even by the ablest teachers. Yet he did not give himself up so intirely to philosophy as to neglect his rhetorical exercises, which he performed still every day diligently with Demetrius the Syrian, an experienced master of the art of speaking. It was in this journey to Athens that he was initiated, most probably, into the Eleusinian mysteries. The reverence with which he always speaks of these mysteries, and the hints he has dropt of their use and end, seem to confirm what a very learned and ingenious writer has delivered of them, that they were contrived to inculcate the unity of God, and the immortality of the soul. From Athens he passed into Asia, where he gathered about him all the principal orators of the country, who kept him company through the rest of his voyage, and with whom he constantly exercised himself in every place where he made any stay.

“The chief of them, says he, was Menippus of Stratonica, the most eloquent of all the Asiatics; and, if to be neither tedious nor impertinent be the characteristic of an Attic orator, he may be justly ranked in that class. Dionysius also of Magnesia, Aeschylus of Cnidos, and Xenocles of Adramyttus were continually with me, who were reckoned the first rhetoricians of Asia: Nor yet content with these, I went to Rhodes, and applied myself again to Molo, whom I had heard before at Rome, who was both an experienced pleader and a fine writer, and particularly expert in observing the faults of his scholars, as well as in his method of teaching and improving them: His greatest trouble with me was to restrain the exuberance of a juvenile imagination, always ready to overflow its banks, within its due and proper channel. But as at Athens, where he employed himself chiefly in philosophy, he did not intermit his oratorial studies, so at Rhodes, where the chief study was oratory, he gave some share of his time also to philosophy, with Possidonius, the most esteemed and learned stoic of that age; whom he often speaks of with honour, not only as his master but as his friend. It was his constant care that the progress of his knowledge should keep pace with the improvement of his eloquence; he considered the one as the foundation of the other, and thought it in vain to acquire ornaments before he had provided necessary furniture: He declaimed here in Greek, because Molo did not understand Latin; and upon ending his declamation, while the rest of the company were lavish of their praises, Molo, instead of paying any compliment, sat silent a considerable time, till observing Cicero somewhat disturbed at it, he said, as for you, Cicero, I praise and admire you, but pity the fortune of Greece, to see arts and eloquence, the only ornaments that were left to her, transplanted by you to Rome. Having thus finished the circuit of his travels, he came back again to Italy, after an excursion of two years, extremely improved and changed, as it were, into a new man: The vehemence of his voice and action was moderated; the redundancy of his stile and fancy corrected; his lungs strengthened, and his whole constitution confirmed. This voyage of Cicero seems to be the only scheme and pattern of travelling from which any real benefit is to be expected: He did not stir abroad till he had compleated his education; for nothing can be more pernicious to a nation than the necessity of a foreign one; and after he had acquired in his own country whatever was proper to form a worthy citizen and magistrate of Rome, he went, confirmed by a maturity of age and reason, against the impressions of vice, not so much to learn, as to polish what he had learned, by visiting those places where arts and sciences flourished in their greatest perfection. In a tour the most delightful of the world, he saw every thing that could entertain a curious traveller, yet staid nowhere longer than his benefit, not his pleasure detained him. By his previous knowledge of the laws of Rome, he was able to compare them with those of other cities, and to bring back with him whatever he found useful, either to his country or to himself. He was lodged, wherever he came, in the houses of the great and eminent, not so much for their birth and wealth, as for their virtue, knowledge and learning; men honoured and reverenced in their several cities, as the principal patriots, orators, and philosophers of the age: These he made the constant companions of his travels; that he might not lose the opportunity, even on the road, of profiting by their advice and experience: And from such a voyage, it is no wonder that he brought back every accomplishment which could improve and adorn a man of sense.”

I could not choose but give this account of Cicero’s education at full length, because such an example sets forth to our view the proper methods of education and study with more force, and therefore will make a stronger impression than the best expressed maxims or precepts. Let me just subjoin to what hath been said, an admirable letter of Pliny the younger to his friend Fuscus about his studies, from which admirable hints may be taken for the direction of the studies and exercises of young gentlemen, after they are got above the first elements of instruction.

Hitherto we have treated of teaching and study: But the minds even of grown and highly improved men cannot bear to be continually bent upon grave and deep meditation: They must often be refreshed by proper unbending and well-chosen relaxations: much more is this true with regard to the young. Uninterrupted application to study would soon wear out the whole force of their tender minds: And it is because of the necessity of corporal exercise to invigorate the soul as well as the body, that nature hath made children so fond of motion, so restless and lively: Let one be kept closely to reading, without allowing him any respite from thinking, or any exercise to his body, and were it possible to preserve long, by such a method, his liking to study and knowledge, or his health and vigour, yet we would soon find such an one become no less soft in his mind than in his outward man: Both mind and body would thus become gradually too relaxed, too much unbraced for the fatigues and duties of active life: Were it possible for such to improve, or so much as to preserve the natural force of their understanding, which it is not, yet their active powers would daily be losing of their strength and springiness, so to speak, and such a mind would soon become very unmanly, very timid and sluggish. Such, in fine, is the union between body and soul, that the same exercises which are conducive, when rightly managed, to consolidate or strengthen the former, are likewise equally necessary and fit to produce courage, firmness, and manly vigour in the latter. All this is well known, and therefore requires no proof: And what indeed doth knowledge avail, if the mind be not fit for action, but averse to it; or if every danger, every gloomy incident, every slight difficulty in life, intimidates and unhinges the mind, or makes it quake, tremble, and dissolve with fear? The disease is not uncommon amongst mere scholars, in whose education the liberal manly exercises have had no share. And what is the obvious conclusion from all this? But that certain exercises, tending at once to give health and vigour to the body, and strength and intrepidity to the mind, ought to be united in the institution of youth, with philosophy, rhetoric, and the sciences, and not severed the one from the other, as they too generally are, as if mind and body had no dependance, or as if, where there was knowledge of duty, due courage and hardiness of mind could be taken up at any time. I might here entertain my readers, not disagreeably, with some account of the ancient gymnastic exercises, in which the youth amongst the Greeks and Romans were daily practised, and that without much trouble to myself, by translating from several admirable dissertations upon all of them, in the memoires of the French academy of belles-lettres. But it is enough to our purpose to observe, that in these ancient nations, hunting, wrestling, and other such vigorous exercises, which required presence of mind, and caution without fear, were thought absolutely requisite to the formation of the souls, as well as of the bodies of their youth: And the fitness of some such exercises to all youth is strongly recommended by our own Milton, and all our best writers on education, on the same account; for reasons, which the least experience or reflection will immediately suggest, namely, for mutually and equally fortifying body and mind. Plato52 makes an excellent observation upon the natural tendency of the gentle or soft studies and exercises on the one hand, and that of rougher and hardier ones on the other, from which he infers the fitness of mixing them together, in due proportions, in the education of youth, whom we would form into a just temperature of body and mind, whether with respect to their own private happiness, or with respect to public service and utility. According to this admirable philosopher, speculations even about those duties of life, which require undaunted presence of mind, or fearless circumspection, are not sufficient, by themselves, without proper inurance to hardships, difficulties and dangers, to produce true fortitude of mind: And far less can other meditations or enquiries harden or invigorate the mind, and produce manly intrepidity: And far less still can music, and the other soft sciences do it, the genuine pleasures of which, however, cannot be supposed to be forbidden man by the Author of his frame, without imagining the supreme Being to act inconsistently with himself, since he hath framed man not only with eyes and ears, but also with a natural sense of harmony and proportion, improveable to a very great degree of perfection: The frequent repetition of certain exercises, in which dangers are to be foreseen, avoided and warded off, or bravely encountered and surmounted, are the only proper means of forming and improving this useful, this indispensibly necessary good temper of mind, by often calling it forth into action, and putting it to trials. But yet, on the other side, constant practice in the rough, austere, bold exercises, were no methods used to prevent the effect, would render the minds of men too savage and ferocious, and their manners quite rude, harsh and disagreeable, as we find from the character of the Spartans, in whose education the polite arts and sciences had no place, being quite excluded by their legislator. The middle between these two extremes, is the happy, the desirable temper: Gentleness that danger will quickly rouse to thought and courage, and foresight and fortitude, that will act with equal mildness, gentleness and firmness. And in order to produce or form such a disposition, exercises requiring vigour, both of body and mind, must be skilfully blended with more mollifying arts and studies, which have a natural aptitude to humanize the mind, and preserve it from degenerating into ferocity, as the other to strengthen and invigorate it, against all the too softening passions.

These are the reasons for which certain hardy exercises were reckoned by the ancients so essential a part in the formation of a liberal character: Such exercises, in particular, as qualified for just war in the defence of one’s country against hostile invasions. And no doubt, the better adapted the exercises of youth are to this end, the better will they serve the general purpose of exercises, with the additional advantage of fitting youth for the arts and toils of warfare in the public service. For which cause, could it be done, it would not be amiss, that in numerous schools young men were, according to ancient methods already taken notice of, not only initiated in warlike discipline, and trained to arms, but likewise accustomed to watch and keep guard. But not to dwell upon what mere gown men having very little notion of, will be very apt to stumble at, let it just be observed, that sedentary diversions are by no means the proper relaxations of students, neither in relation to health, nor the higher purpose that hath been just mentioned. And yet because certain times and places do not admit of any other, and some amusements to recreate their minds, must be allowed to students, it will not be wrong in bad weather, or the evenings, now and then, to practise them in such games as require some degree of thought, and they will find to be the fashionable diversions of the world, when they enter into it, provided care be taken to accustom them to play, not only without avarice and fairly, but with complaisance, ease and gracefulness. Montagne, I think, tells us, that his father used to play now and then at cards with his children, to inure them to temper, patience and candour in game, and thus secured them against the bad effects plays established in the world might otherwise have had upon them, so soon as they came into the world, and saw amusements that they had been kept strangers to. Let not children be restrained from any recreations that are innocent, but on the contrary, let them be taught to join in them with a genteel complaisance, when good company proposes it, and be accustomed to look with detestation upon unfairness, passion or avarice, and the other evil passions to which too great an itch for such diversions exposes. For till we can banish all play from among those, who being reckoned the fashionable part of the world, have the power of establishing modes, they will but be so much the fonder of what they were restrained from, so soon as they get loose from tutorage. ’Tis indeed no unnecessary part of genteel education, as the world now goes, to fix in young minds betimes proper and true sentiments concerning such amusements; an abhorrence of the vices they too often lead into, and the becoming disposition with which one ought to engage in them. But no sedentary recreations can be made the more common or frequent diversions of youth without detriment to their health; and which is of more consequence, without overlooking what is essential to the character of one fit to serve his country: A mind capable to forego pleasures and suffer hardships, when duty to his friends or country requires it; a mind not insensible to danger, or rashly desirous of it, but yet able to look danger in the face without confusion or disorder; a mind whose force peril unforeseen only serves to awake and call forth into brave behaviour, and which fully possessing itself, can then best discover prudent expedients, when there is most use for such sagacity. The fitter bodily exercises are for gaining this useful end, so much the properer are they, both in respect of body and mind, with relation equally to particulars themselves and society in general. Wherefore riding, fencing, wrestling, handling arms, and other such manly exercises, ought to have their place in the schools where youth are taught the languages and sciences. There ought to be fixed times for them, and daily practice in them too, and not in books only, ought to be made a task. Both being necessary, they ought to be judiciously intermingled, so that the one may serve as a relief from the other. But tho’ youth ought to be obliged to perform their parts both in exercise and study, because both are requisite to complete a truly liberal and manly temper and character; and that study alone may not be looked upon as work and labour; yet it must likewise be permitted to young people, in their youngest years more especially, sometimes not only to divert themselves, but to do it after their own fashion, provided it be innocently, and without prejudice to their health; for there can be no recreation without delight, which depends not always upon reason, but oftner on fancy. Through the whole course of education, from infancy itself, care should be taken, that what is of real advantage to them, they should always do with pleasure, and before they are wearied with one, they should be timely diverted to some other useful employment. But if they are not yet brought to that degree of perfection, that one way of improvement can be made to them a recreation from another, they must be let loose to the play they fancy, and be weaned from excessive fondness for it by a surfeit of it. But from studies or exercises of real use, they ought always to be sent away with appetite, at least be dismissed before they are quite weary and sick of them, that so they may return to them again with delight, as to something they have real pleasure in. For we must never think them rightly formed, till they can find satisfaction in the application to laudable things; and the profitable exercises of the body and mind taking their proper turns, make their time and improvement pass on very agreeably, as it were in one continued train of recreations, whereby the fatigued or wearied part is constantly refreshed and recruited. That this may be done in most children, if a right course be taken to raise in them the desire of esteem, credit, and reputation, there are examples enough to leave us no room to doubt. And such management never fails to make them in love with the hand that directs them, as well as with the virtuous and commendable course they are directed into. It is an essential duty in masters, to take care to appear not enemies, but friends to the pleasures and satisfactions of their pupils. And this great advantage, besides, may be gained, by allowing free liberty to children in their diversions, that this freedom will discover their natural tempers, inclinations and aptitudes, and be thereby a proper means of directing wise parents in the choice of the business and employment of life they shall design them for; and of suggesting fit remedies to them in the mean time, for redressing any wrong bent of nature whatsoever they may observe their children to be in most danger from. Above all things, inspectors of children ought to take care that children play or divert themselves together without fraud or chicane on the one hand, or violence, roughness and imperiousness on the other. They should be taught to have all the deference, complaisance and civility one for the other imaginable. And in this way will they quickly find more pleasure than in the other, when they see it procures them respect, love and honour, and that far from losing any superiority by it, it makes them beloved by their play-fellows, and esteemed by their parents and masters, and all who know and observe them. In order to this, it must be a constant rule with parents and preceptors not to receive or hearken too readily or favourably to the querulous accusations of children, one against another. For these are frequently but the clamours of anger, envy, or revenge, desiring aid. It weakens and effeminates children’s minds to indulge them in complaining: And on the contrary, if they suffer sometimes crossing and pain from others, without being allowed to bemoan themselves and make complaints, this will teach and inure them to sufferance, and harden them early. But tho’ we ought not to countenance and encourage the complaints of those who are apt to accuse, on every slight occasion, yet on the other side, care ought to be taken to curb the violence and insolence of the injurious. When you yourself happen to observe any such thing, let the offender be reproved before the injured party: But if the complaint be really worth your notice and prevention another time, then reprove the faulty child by himself alone, out of sight of him that complained, and make him go and ask pardon and make reparation for the injury he has done. This, when it appears to come as it were from himself, will be the more cheerfully performed and more kindly received; love will be confirmed and strengthened between them, and a habit of civility will thus grow familiar among children; a habit which every one of experience will acknowledge to be of the greatest utility in life, in civil commerce, and which for that reason cannot be too early or too carefully formed and cherished. To compleat this character, and make them not only courteous, civil and obliging, but liberal, teach them to part with what they have easily and freely, and with becoming grace to their friends; and let them find by experience, that the most liberal has always most plenty, with esteem, praise and love into the bargain, and they will quickly learn to practise it. Special care ought to be had, that children do never trifle with the rules of justice: But education should aim at something higher, and endeavour betimes to inspire a generous temper into children, and for that reason, take occasions to incite them to be kind and liberal, and to make them feel the pleasure of doing affectionate offices, and of being beloved for their goodness. Practice in accustoming children to share with one another, and to impart what they get one to another with joy and complacency, will make them kinder and civiler to one another, and consequently to others, than all the rules about good manners with which children are ordinarily incumbered and plagued. Indeed covetousness of having in our possession, and under our power more than we have need of, being the root of all evil, should be early and carefully weeded out, and the contrary quality ought to be diligently implanted and cultivated. This social sense, or benign disposition, should be encouraged by great commendation and credit, and strict care that the child lose nothing by his bounty. Let all the instances he gives of tenderness, humanity and generosity, be always repaid and with interest; and let him thus sensibly perceive, that the goodness he shews to others is no ill-husbandry for himself; but that it brings a return for kindness both from those who receive it, and those who look on. Make it a generous contention or emulation among children who shall outdo one another in this way; and by this means, by a constant practice, children having made it easy to themselves to part with what they have, benevolence may be settled in them into an habit, and they will soon come to take a most sincere pleasure, and a noble pride in being civil, kind and bountiful to others.

Upon this excellent disposition, it will be easy to build that amiable quality commonly called good breeding, and upon no other foundation can it be raised. For whence else can it spring but from a general good-will and regard for all people, deeply rooted in the heart, which makes any one that has it careful not to shew in his carriage, any contempt, disrespect, or neglect of them, but to express a value and respect for them, according to their rank and condition, suitably to the fashion and way of their country? ’Tis a disposition to make all we converse with easy and well-pleased. Good-breeding we may see from this short account of its only firm foundation in goodness of heart, consists in two things. First, a disposition of the mind not to offend others, or make them uneasy. Secondly, the habit of expressing that disposition in the most acceptable and agreeable way. From the former of these one is called civil or humane; from the other well-fashioned, or well-bred: And when these two meet, that is, when the agreeable manner of shewing civility is become natural, then is a man called thoroughly polite. And in truth, it is this lovely quality which gives true beauty to all other accomplishments, or renders them useful to their possessor, in procuring him the esteem and good-will of all that he comes near. Without this charming perfection, his other qualities, however good in themselves, make him but pass for proud, conceited, vain, or foolish. “Courage, says an excellent writer,53 in an ill-bred man, has the air, and escapes not the opinion of brutality; learning becomes pedantry; wit, buffoonery; plainness, rusticity; good-nature, fawning: And there cannot be a good quality in him which want of breeding will not warp and disfigure to his disadvantage. Nay virtue and parts, tho’ they are allowed their due commendation, yet are not enough to procure a man a good reception, and make him welcome wherever he comes. No body contents himself with rough diamonds, and wears them so, who would appear with advantage. When they are polished and set, then they give a lustre. Good qualities are the substantial riches of the mind, but ’tis good breeding sets them off. And he that will be acceptable must give beauty as well as strength to his actions. Solidity, or even usefulness, is not enough: A graceful way and fashion in every thing is that which gives ornament and liking. And in most cases, the manner of doing is of more consequence than the thing done. For upon that depends the satisfaction or disgust wherewith it is received. This, therefore, says the same author, which lies not in pulling off the hat, nor making of compliments, but in a due and free composure of language, looks, motions, posture, place, &c. suited to persons and occasions, and can be learned only by habit and use, tho’ it be above the capacity of children, and little ones should not be perplexed with rules about it, yet it ought to be begun, and in a good measure learned by a young gentleman whilst he is under a tutor, before he comes into the world upon his own legs: For then usually it is too late to reform several habitual indecencies which lie in little things. For the carriage is not as it should be, till it is become natural in every part, falling, as a musician’s fingers do, into harmonious order without care and without thought. If in conversation a man’s mind be taken up with a sollicitous watchfulness about any part of his behaviour, instead of being mended by it, it will be constrained, uneasy and ungraceful.” ’Tis therefore by accustoming children to decency and gracefulness in reading, speaking, in the whole of their behaviour, even in their first diversions with one another; but above all, by cherishing and strengthening in them a generous and humane temper, that they alone can become thoroughly well-bred and civil. The opposites therefore to this delightful temper and manner, are carefully to be corrected and amended, the chief of which are,54 1. a natural roughness which makes a man consult his own humour and inclinations only, and very uncomplaisant to others, so as to have no regard to their tempers or conditions. Every one agrees, that not to mind what pleases or displeases those we are with, is downright clownishness: Yet we may often find one in a very fashionable dress give an uncontrouled swing to his own humour in company, with absolute indifferency how others take it. It is however a brutality that is incompatible with the least tincture of good-breeding. For the very business and scope of good manners is to bend men’s tempers to compliance and accommodation with those we have to do with. 2. Contempt or want of due respect, bewrayed either by looks, word or gesture. This always creates uneasiness from whomsoever it comes: For self-love and pride naturally revolt against it. No body can bear being slighted. 3. Nothing is more repugnant to civility than a censorious temper, or an itch to find fault with others, and expose their weaknesses. Raillery is the most refined way of touching upon the faults of others. And because censuring, to deserve that name, must be managed with wit, pleasantry, and good language; and when it is such it usually gives entertainment to the politest company, people are apt to mistake concerning it, and think there is no incivility in it when it keeps within fair bounds. Hence it is, that this conversation obtains so much, and is so well received amongst people of the better rank. But let it be considered how contrary it is to humanity, to entertain the rest of a company at the cost of one, who being set to shew in burlesque colours, cannot be without uneasiness, unless the subject for which he is rallied be really matter of conversation. For then the pleasant images which make the raillery, carrying praise as well as sport with them, the rallied party finds his account and takes part in the diversion. But raillery being so delicate a matter, that the smallest mistake or wrong turn may spoil all, none ought to meddle with it who has not a very dextrous hand at it. And young people, more especially, should not venture upon it with their elders in particular. Complaisance may degenerate, it often does, into what we call an every man’s man, a softness that yields to the humour of every company, howsoever unreasonable. Now strict regard to truth and virtue is the only remedy against this excess of pliableness: And it ought to be often represented to youth as what it really is, cowardice. But tho’ complaisance does not require that we should assent to all the opinions or reasonings, or relations that the company we are in may be entertained with, nor that we should silently pass over all that is vented in our hearing, much less, that we should comply with every riot or foolery that may be proposed, yet there is in some people what is very properly called a spirit of contradiction, a disposition resolutely, and without regard to right or wrong, to oppose some one, or perhaps every one of the company, whatever they say or do, which surely must be diametrically repugnant to civility; since humanity requires, that all marks of regard and good-will should always accompany even reasonable contradiction to, or dissention from any person. And in truth, he who opposes in any other way, may gain the argument, but he will lose what every good man will far prefer to such a victory, the esteem and love of those who hear him. We may lay it down as a rule, founded on human nature, that he recommends himself very ill to another as aiming at his happiness, who in the services he does him, gives him pain, and makes him uneasy in the manner of doing them. He that understands how to make those he converses with easy, without degrading himself to low flattery or servile complaisance, has hit on the secret charm of living agreably in the world, and of being both useful and acceptable wherever he goes. Civility, therefore, is what in the first place should with great care and attention be rendered habitual to children and young people. And we may see, from the characteristics of it, how well it consists with the true courage and manly intrepidity which the exercises above mentioned are the proper means of producing, and strengthening betimes in young minds. But it is not sufficient to intitle one to the character of well-bred, that he has even the best heart, the most benign, social and generous disposition; one must likewise be acquainted with the proper language by which this excellent temper should shew and express itself, and have it at command, so as not to have it to seek from rules laid up in his head or memory on every emergency, but so ready at his hand, as that he naturally falls into the decency and gracefulness of looks, voice, words, motions, gestures, and the whole of outward demeanour, which takes in company, and makes those whom we converse with easy and well-pleased. For this is properly the outward language whereby the internal civility of the temper is expressed. And hence it evidently follows, that this, like all other languages, must very much depend upon the fashion and custom of every country, and in the rules and practice of it can therefore only be learned from observation, and by frequenting the society of those who are allowed to be exactly well-bred. But nothing is more proper to give children a becoming confidence and easy behaviour, and so to raise them to the conversation of those above their age, than dancing. For though its effect consist chiefly in outward gracefulness of motion, yet I know not how, it gives children manly thoughts, or at least manly carriage more than any thing. There is what we justly call a false modesty, or a sheepish bashfulness, a clownish shame facedness before strangers, or those above, one which confounds the thoughts, words and looks, and makes a person lose himself to such a degree, as not to be able to do any thing, or at least not to do it with that ease and gracefulness which pleases. Now dancing is a proper remedy for this, and together with it the frequenting of good company will soon introduce the contrary habit; not forwardness, pertness, or impudence, but genuine, winning, unabashed modesty. Dancing therefore, being that which gives graceful motions all the life, and above all things, manliness and a becoming assurance to young children, it cannot be learned too early, after they are once of an age and strength capable of it. But you must be sure to have a good master, that knows and can teach what is graceful and becoming, and what gives a freedom and easiness to all the motions of the body. One that teaches not this is worse than none at all, natural rusticity being more tolerable than an affected mien. What hath been said of dancing extends that exercise no further than so far as it tends to perfect a genteel, graceful carriage. And it hath never gained its effect, till it hath the influence upon outward behaviour which Quintilian thus describes. “Neque enim gestum componi ad similitudinem saltationis volo, sed subesse aliquid, in hac exercitatione puerili, unde nos non id agentes, furtim decor ille discentibus traditus prosequatur.”55 “I would not have one carry his body as if he were dancing, but I would have something of the puerile exercise to remain, so that without thinking of it, we may do every thing naturally, and with the grace it is principally designed to render habitual to us.” Quintilian here seems to have had in view these elegant lines of Tibullus, which contain an inimitably beautiful description of outward grace, and its charming effects upon all who see it.

After all, example is the chief thing, in order to form a genteel well-bred youth. And therefore it is necessary that the tutor under whose formation youth are put, be well-bred, and understand all the maxims of civility and good manners, in all the variety of persons, times and places. They are greatly mistaken, who think the whole of good-breeding consists in a certain way of pulling off the hat or making a leg: And they are much more so, who imagine it is enough if a preceptor be a sober man and a scholar. Good-breeding is the accomplishment that is most necessary to be formed by the example and care of a governor. And this is an art not to be learned or taught by books. Nothing can give it but good example and observation joined together. It is fit that an habitual gracefulness and politeness in all his carriage should be settled in a pupil before he goes out of his tutor’s hands, that he may not need advice in this point when he has neither time nor disposition to receive it, nor has any body left to give it him. A tutor ought therefore, in the first place, to be well-bred. And a young gentleman who gets this one quality from his governor, sets out into the world with great advantage, and will find, that this one accomplishment will more open his way to him, and get him more friends, and carry him farther in the world than all the learning he could have imbibed from him, tho’ that, as we have already shewn, should not be neglected. Indeed, besides being compleatly well-bred, the tutor should know the world throughly, the vices, the humours, the follies, the cheats and artifices of the age he is fallen into, and particularly of the country he lives in, that he may be able to shew them to his pupils as he finds him capable, and so teach him skill in men and manners.

But having elsewhere touched on this subject, I shall conclude this chapter, which is already swelled to a very great size, on account of the various particulars it was requisite to consider in it with some exactness, nay minuteness, by observing what a stress the Romans laid upon politeness, or urbanity, as they called it. It appears from an elegant discourse of Monsieur Simon upon this subject, in the memoirs of the academy of belles-lettres at Paris, that what they so called, comprehended purity of language and graceful pronunciation, and for this reason, they took special care of the language and accent, even of the nurses they put about young children: It comprehended likewise graceful demeanor of the body, or easy and genteel outward carriage: It comprehended civility, complaisance, and study to please company, and make them cheerful and happy. But it particularly meant a certain pleasantry or facetiousness of conversation, which promoted gaiety and good humour, without putting any one to pain or uneasiness. And to produce or form all these good qualities in children gradually, were the Romans at due pains. Mr. Simon having observed this, adds this remark. “May I here, says he, make a reflexion upon the education we commonly give our children? It is very remote from the precepts I have mentioned. We take a vulgar woman for a nurse, and it is from her the child learns to speak: To the nurse succeeds a governante, who speaks not a bit better; and out of her hands the child passes into those of a preceptor to whose capacity so little attention is paid, that it is not thought necessary he should have any. Hath the child arrived to six or seven years of age, he mixes with a herd of equally ill-bred boys at college, where under the pretext of teaching him Latin, no regard is had to his mother-tongue. And what happens? What we see every day. A young gentleman of eighteen, who has had this education, cannot read. For to articulate the words, and join them together, I don’t call reading, unless one can pronounce well, observe all the proper stops, vary the voice, express the sentiments, and read with a delicate intelligence. Nor can he speak a jot better. A proof of this is, that he cannot write ten lines without committing gross faults; and because he did not learn his own language well in his early years, he will never know it well. I except a few, who being afterwards engaged by their profession, or their natural taste, cultivate their minds by study. And yet even they, if they attempt to write, will find by the labour composition costs them, what a loss it is not to have learned their language in the proper season. Education amongst the Romans was upon quite a different footing: The Greek was their learned language; it was taught in public schools; they gave application to understand it; but they were no less sollicitous to learn the grammar of their own. Masters taught them early the principles, the difficulties, the subtleties, the depths of it. Masters of rhetoric instructed them in all its riches and beauty. When they went from these schools they were perfect masters of their own language, they never were at a loss for proper expressions; and I am much deceived if it was not owing to this that they produced such excellent works with so marvellous facility. When we consider the writings Cato the Censor, Cicero, Varro, and many others left behind them, men who had so much other business to employ them, men who had such a share in all the affairs of their times, we can’t comprehend how they could be equal to all they really did: And nothing can account for it but the reason we have given. It is not astonishing therefore, if the urbanity, which consists primarily in the purity of language, was so common among the Romans, and is so rare amongst us.— Urbanity came afterwards to signify that character of politeness which reigns in the air and manners of a person. But urbanity taken in this sense is the fruit of good education. Accordingly the great men I have mentioned, whom we may consider as the legislators of education, have recommended every thing that can contribute to polish youth. They would have music, dancing, and the genteel exercises, and even the theatre itself, all the arts, in one word, concur to give them the graces which render knowledge and virtue amiable. ‘Dandum etiam aliquid Comoedo,’57 says Quintilian. “Youth ought to take lessons even from players”; not barely to learn a correct and just pronunciation, but to form their countenance and gesture. With regard to music, he makes it to be an art absolutely necessary to all who would pass for persons of liberal education. And it is because music, according to Aristoxenus, comprehends two kinds of numbers or measures; one for regulating the voice, and the other for regulating those motions of the body whence results good grace in the outward carriage. As to the exercises, ’tis well known what stress the ancients laid upon them, and what share they had in the formation of their youth. Tilt and tournament came in the room of the ancient exercises, and were for some time in great vogue amongst us; and at present to the gymnastic exercises of the ancients, which a learned member of this academy hath so accurately described in his dissertations upon them, have succeeded those exercises which our youth learn at our academies, of which, however, they are now become less fond than they were formerly: Cicero would rather have a young man to form himself upon the model of soldiers, who have, to say the truth, generally a much easier and freer air than most others. These were the methods the Romans took to acquire the urbanity for which they are so celebrated: Methods so much the more easy, that a very little practice in them suffices for giving an agreeable exterior to more solid and more essential virtues. It must be acknowledged, however, that these methods of polite education are now very much neglected. Some go so far as to affirm, that they are not necessary to all conditions of persons. Thus do many of our people of the gown think. And hence it is, that the urbanity I have been discoursing of, and which would so well befit them, is not very common among them. For why may not one speak here what he really thinks, when he hath no other view but the public-good? The austere and rigid education which they for the greater part receive, and by natural consequence give to their children, degenerates into a sort of gravity which Mr. le Duc de la Rochefaucault defines to be a mysterious exterior, invented to hide the defects of the mind; I should rather chuse to say the defects of education. They do not reflect, that very often the want of urbanity suffices to make the greatest talents, and the greatest virtues, hated or contemned. The Romans had in this respect great advantage above us. Amongst them professions were not distinguished or confined within narrow bounds, as they are amongst us. Here one of the robe is merely one of the robe; a magistrate is solely a magistrate; a scholar a mere scholar; a soldier nothing but a soldier; a churchman has his particular functions, and he meddles with little else. It was not so in ancient Rome: The same person had many different talents; he was a scholar, barrister, soldier, priest, augur, at one and the same time. I can easily imagine, that a person who was sufficiently qualified for so many different professions, derived graces from each of them, which mutually diffused themselves through all the rest. And hence I understand that Roman urbanity was not an empty name. In fact all the Romans, during some time, at least, went to war. The first of their employments were equally military and civil; I mean that of quaestor, which we may compare to that of our pay-master to, or intendant of the army. Was there ever a mere barrister, or one who attended the bar more closely than Cicero? Yet he commanded an army, he had the title of general, and kept it a considerable time. Horace, tho’ he does not boast of his courage, had however served under Brutus. But the same persons knew how to distinguish themselves in time of peace as well as of war. A general of the army, after having extended the Roman dominion by his conquests, after having gained victories, and had the honour of a triumph, returning to Rome, and becoming a simple citizen, found, in the diversity of his talents, new employment for his ambition. He became a protector of the laws, a defender of oppressed innocence; and at the bar or in the senate disputed the prize of eloquence with the most distinguished orators. It is no wonder that such a person pleaded or harangued with the same courage he fought, as is said of Caesar; nor that he mingled with the exercises of the bar the military graces he had imbibed by commerce with the gentlemen of the sword; nor that by consequence, he should have surpassed us so far in what I call urbanity. Add to this, that all persons of birth at Rome travelled into Greece, and went to improve their taste of the polite arts in the very bosom of politeness; not to mention their having Greeks at home, very well qualified to instil early that taste into them, or to cultivate it. All these are advantages we want, and many of them are not agreeable to our manners, our customs, our form of government. But for this reason, the culture I am now speaking of is so much the more necessary: And it consists, as hath been said, in a good education, and proper after-care. I will give you a strong example of what these may do with regard to urbanity. It is in Horace, as far as I am able to judge, that the character of urbanity shines more than in any other of the Latin poets. Now we need only call to mind a passage, in which this poet having very modestly praised himself, rather for the vices from which he was free, than for any virtues he possessed, attributes all the honour of his merit to the education his father had given him.

See here a model of education worthy of being imitated. But what did Horace himself add to this care? Not satisfied with the masters he had at Rome, he went to seek others at Athens: So he himself informs us.

Tho’ he was not very brave, yet he would needs make some campaigns, probably to learn the military art, the properest and most improving to young men. But neither the licentiousness which commonly attends that profession, nor the amusements and dissipation into which youth is so apt to run, ever diminished his taste for study and polite literature: He loved them so much as to think books as necessary to life as the things which support it.

Born a poet, he composed verses rather like a gentleman than a poet by profession, despising the approbation of the vulgar, and sollicitous only to please a small number of select readers.

Accordingly in reading Homer, with whom he was so charmed, he studied him as a philosopher more than as a poet: He thought he was reading Chrysippus or Crantor, and referred every thing he read in him to life and manners!

His distance by birth from the great did not dispirit him, but encouraged by his happy endowments, he frequented the most noble, and knew how to please them. Admitted on one side into the familiarity of a Pollio, of Messala, of Lollius, of Maecenas, of Augustus; and on the other side, being in strict friendship with Virgil, with Varus; with Tibullus, with Plotius, &c. in one word, with all the best men of Rome; I am not surprized that he, by commerce with these great men, acquired that politeness, that delicate refined taste, which his writings make us feel. This is what I call continued culture, and such as is requisite to accomplish the character of urbanity. In reality, however good one’s education may have been, if one ceases to improve and cultivate his mind and manners by reflexion, and by conversation with well-accomplished persons, and above all, with persons bred at courts, to whom politeness is as it were natural, he cannot avoid falling into something very opposite to politeness and urbanity. Accordingly it is reported of Cicero, that he could not let the smallest fault in speaking pass unreproved in his son; and of Caesar, that as much as he was taken up with his grand projects, he studied purity of language in his tents, amidst the noise and hurry of arms. Some may perhaps look upon these things as trifles; but to such let me make the answer Quintilian gives on a very like occasion. ‘These accomplishments do not hurt those who use them as steps by which they may rise to others, but those only who stop there, and confine themselves to them alone.’

“As for that part of urbanity which belongs to raillery, it hardly admits of precepts. Here at least my guides fail me, for both affirm it cannot be taught. Cicero says there is no art of wit or pleasant raillery; and in one of his dialogues, one of the personages expresly tells us, that having seen some Greek book intitled, the art of raillery, he expected at first to have learned something from it, but that in fact he found nothing in it but some examples of pleasant and witty sayings; for says he, the Sicilians, the Rhodians, but above all, the Athenians excelled in this way. Hence he concludes, that it is not a thing that can be taught by rules; and he gives a very good reason why. It is a talent that must be born with one, or for which one must be formed by nature herself. However Quintilian, who is more particular in treating things than Cicero, thinks young people may be turned or improved in this way by proper methods. Yet after all, these great masters only prescribe a certain temperament or moderation that ought to be preserved in raillery, that it may have that air of urbanity which is so adorning to a man of worth. What they principally recommend to us is, first of all, not to affect to make persons laugh; and they observe, that raillery better becomes one in defending than in attacking, because there it cannot be suspected of being studied or premeditated. Besides, it is natural for one to defend himself with such arms as he is attacked with. In the second place, they advise always to spare persons to whom we owe respect, or with whom we are in friendship. A maxim which it seems easy to observe, but which, however, it is almost impossible for those to observe who have naturally a turn for raillery. This made Ennius say, that it is easier for a wit to hold burning coals in his mouth, than to keep in a smart thing that presses to get out. Accordingly among the Romans, Crassus is the only person who is brought as an example of one who had a singular talent for raillery, but could keep within the rules of decency; and who could as easily forbear being witty as give way to his pleasantry. Quintilian gives us excellent precepts upon this head, precepts worthy of the Christian morality. ‘Let our wit and pleasantry, says he, always be innocent, and let us not prefer a smart saying to a friend. A humane, well-bred man will be facetious and witty with decency. It is putting too high a value upon wit and pleasantry, to give scope to it at the expence of probity.’ And hence we may learn with what care we ought to avoid all raillery that is gross and low; and how attentive we ought to be, lest through affectation of wit we become scoffers or buffoons, a character very unbefitting a person of dignity and merit. True pleasantry does not excite noisy laughter, it only gently tickles the soul. Plautus was not relished by Horace: It was because Plautus so often sinks into the low comic, and was fitter to divert the vulgar than people of education and good taste. With these precautions, raillery will have no more salt than is necessary to give life to conversation; refined from every thing that is bitter and offensive, it will be humane and polite, which proves what I said in the first part of this discourse, that urbanity in its strict sense, is a moral virtue, which renders society amiable and pleasant; and therefore I shall end this article with what Quintilian says, after giving a definition of manners. ‘Urbanity, besides the perfections I have already mentioned, requires a stock of benevolence, a liberal cast of mind, which is rarely to be found but in persons of birth.’

“That I may omit nothing that may be said about the means of acquiring it, I shall take notice of two defaults which are its opposites. The first is a certain timidity which gives one an embarassed air, and degenerates into false modesty. The remedy proposed for this by the author I have so often cited, is an honest assurance, or rather the intrepidity of a good conscience, to which must be added knowledge of the world, and great practice in it, without which an able man, with all his learning and wit, will make but a very awkward figure. The other is too great a desire to appear polite; whence proceeds I know not what affectation and formality, that spoils all. For if this character be not natural, as it were, to us, I would rather prefer rusticity, which, at least, has the merit of simplicity. In fact, whatever is not easy, but studied, instead of being graceful, gives pain to every spectator; and where grace is wanting, there true urbanity or politeness is not. Whatever is over-done, says Quintilian, is unbecoming; and for this reason, even what is in itself agreeable loses all its beauty, if it exceeds certain limits, and is not prudently moderated. But it is much easier to feel all this than to explain it. The perception of it depends more upon taste than upon precepts. And yet it is by adding politeness to knowledge and virtue that liberal education is finished and rendered complete.”

chapter iv

The true philosophy, and the proper methods of teaching it more fully described; where the Socratic method of teaching; and instruction by fables, parables or allegories are considered.

It was impracticable to get through the subject of the former chapter, so as to render this treatise on education as full and compleat as it ought to be, without entering into a particular detail that may perhaps be tedious to those who are much conversant with it. But now we return to a matter which is in itself more entertaining, and where we can have but small assistance from others, so little hath it been considered, tho’ it be of the highest importance in education.

The character of that true philosophy, which alone hath produced, and only can produce patriots, truly good and great members of society, is strongly painted out to us by Tacitus in his account of Helvidius Priscus, and the education to which he owed his eminent abilities and virtues. “Ingenium illustre altioribus studiis juvenis admodum dedit: non ut plerique, ut nomine magnifico segne otium velaret, sed quo firmior adversus fortuita, rempublicam capesseret. Doctores sapientiae secutus est, qui sola bona quae honesta, mala tantum quae turpia; potentiam nobilitatem, caeteraque extra animum neque bonis neque malis annumerant, &c.”63 This was the philosophy that prevailed in Greece and Rome, while these countries produced those glorious names, which, being an honour to human nature, so greatly adorn their histories; as indeed it is the only philosophy that can inspire or support virtue, and keep men firm to duty in spite of all temptation from the side of danger or of pleasure: The philosophy, that by accustoming one to regard the rectitude of actions, more than external loss and suffering, or pleasure and advantage, enables him to disdain whatever comes into competition with virtue, with the honestum, and steadily to prefer untainted integrity to all that can be gained by prostitution of honour. How elegantly is it described by Lucan in his soul- rouzing character of Cato?

So Socrates, as we learn from Plato and Xenophon, always described the truly great and brave man. And how delightfully, how warmingly do we find Cicero combating the contrary philosophy, in proportion to the spreading and prevalence of which, hath public virtue ever declined, as it manifestly did among the Greeks and Romans: That philosophy which set up pleasure as the sovereign good, and taught men that selfishness is wisdom, and that they were chiefly to consult external ease and conveniency, and not solely the dignity of human nature, or the eternal and immutable rules of moral rectitude, in their choices and pursuits.65 “Were ever, saith he, the names of Lycurgus, Solon, Leonidas, Epaminondas, and other such heroes, who made public good the sole or chief measure and standard of their conduct mentioned in the schools of Epicurus, where pleasure was painted out in regal pomp, beautifully arrayed, and sitting upon a magnificent throne, with the virtues attending her like waiting-maids, who had no other employment but to receive and execute her orders, and whispering her in the ear only to take care to do nothing rashly, or that might bring pain after it. ‘Nocet empta dolore voluptas.’66 The disciples of Epicurus painted this tablature elegantly enough in words: But can you, Torquatus, look into your own mind, and seriously consult your own honest heart, and the noble pursuits to which it generously stimulates you, without being ashamed of this picture? Can you bear the servile language and air he gives to the virtues?—Can such principles animate and excite men to truly laudable and heroic actions? Can such philosophy produce public spirit, love of mankind and true magnanimity? In truth Torquatus, you must either quit the defence of indolence and voluptuousness, or give up all our patriots, heroes and deliverers for fools.—To bring the enjoyments of sense, and the satisfactions of our superior powers of reason and judgment under the denomination of pleasure, is a plain receding from the common notion of the word, and a mere shift and collusion. They do not deal fairly or candidly with us, who in their grave lectures admit that for pleasure, which, at an ordinary time, and in the common practice of life is so little taken as such. The mathematician who labours at his problems and theorems, the bookish man who fatigues his body and mind by severe studies and profound researches, the artist who voluntarily endures the greatest toils and hardships, none of these are said to follow pleasure, nor will those who call themselves the only men of pleasure admit them of their number. The satisfactions of the mind, which are purely mental, and consist solely in sentiment and thought, are too refined for them who are so taken up with pleasures of a more substantial kind. They who are so captivated by the idea of sensitive gratification, can have but little relish for the more spiritual and intellectual sort. But this latter, however, they cry up and magnify upon occasion, to avoid the ignominy which may redound from an open avowance of the former; and this done the latter may take its chance, its use is presently at an end. For it is observable, that when men of this sort have recommended the enjoyments of the mind under the title of pleasure, when they have thus dignified the word, and comprehended in it whatever is mentally good and honest, they can afterwards suffer it contentedly to slide back again into its own genuine and vulgar sense, whence they raised it only to serve a turn. When pleasure is called in question and attacked, then reason and virtue are called on to her aid, and make principal ingredients of her constitution. A complicated form appears, and comprehends streight all which is generous, beautiful and honest in human life. But when the attack is over, and the objection is once dissipated, the spectre vanishes; pleasure returns again to her former shape, and she may even be pleasure still, and have as little concern with dry virtue, and sober reason, as in the nature of the thing, and according to common understanding, she really has. If virtue be an empty name, if there be no distinction between moral rectitude and turpitude of actions, then ’tis no matter how one lives, or what he does, if he can but save himself from pain.—But if there be any dignity belonging to human nature, as adorned with intelligent and active powers:—Or if there be any rule of action, then the first and essential question to be asked on every occasion is, whether the thing proposed be virtuous, whatever it may cost, or be not base whatever advantage it may bring with it. And men consequently are to be taught to postpone and undervalue every gratification on the one hand, and every pain or danger on the other, in comparison of an untainted heart and life.” Thus does Cicero often argue, or this language, at least, does he put often in the mouth of his advocate for virtue against the Epicurean doctrine.

But to proceed more regularly in this present enquiry, we shall fix before our view a short definition of the philosophy which ought to be the chief object and scope of education given us by an admirable author, in whose words, as near as I can remember them, I have given you these reasonings in Cicero de finibus, concerning virtue and true philosophy. “To philosophize, says he, in a just signification, is but to carry good-breeding a step higher. For the accomplishment of breeding is to learn whatever is decent in company, or beautiful in arts; and the sum of philosophy is to learn what is just in society, and beautiful in nature, and the order of the world.”67 True philosophy teaches the order of nature, and the order of human life. And therefore tho’ languages ought not to be neglected, this philosophy ought to be the chief employment of youth every day from their earliest years; that they may timeously learn to delight in searching into the wisdom and goodness of nature, and to love and imitate its all- perfect former and ruler. Lead pupils through air, sea and earth, and teach them to observe the chief properties of these elements, and their final causes, or the infinitely various uses to which they minister, with relation to all the immense diversities of perceptive beings with which they are so richly peopled, that in reality there is no chasm, no blank in nature, but perfection rising above perfection so gradually, from the lowest to the highest, as to leave no room to doubt that any possible or imaginable species of life is wanting in it. Teach them why all matter hath gravity, and why, in the proportion, that gravity takes place near the surface of our earth: Shew them how and why all matter attracts and is mutually attracted, and set before them various effects of this universal law: Let them be taught to observe what an infinite diversity of qualities arises from various textures of bodies, and to what excellent uses all these serve or may be employed: Explain to them the law according to which fluids press; and why fluids, as well as solids, have different specific gravities, and the manifold advantages of these laws: Point out to them the elasticity of the air, and the advantages arising from thence: Explain respiration, flying, swimming, and sailing to them: Carry them into the fields and gardens, and entertain them with the riches of nature that there displays itself, and with the laws of vegetation: Dive with them into the bowels of the earth, and develop to them the treasures of useful minerals and metals which lie hid there: Let not the structures of animals be neglected, but shew them how each species is furnished and adapted for its proper element and peculiar manner of life: And far less let the wonderful instincts implanted by the Author of nature in every tribe of animals, so suited to each particular oeconomy, be overlooked: Travel over our whole earth with them, and shew them how and where it was first peopled, and into what various climates and soils it is divided: Explain to them the source of light and heat, these genial powers of nature whence proceeds all life and motion; the diurnal and annual revolutions of the earth round the sun, and in consequence thereof, the regular succession of day and night, and of the seasons departing and returning at their appointed times: Mount with them to the heavens, and unfold to them our mundan system, and the laws of central and centrifugal forces, which retain our earth and its companion planets in their orbits, while they roll round, at so well proportioned distances and periods, their common enlivener: Unfold to them the various uses of the moon to our earth; and then acquainting them with the fixed stars, teach them to consider them as so many suns of like utility with ours: Teach them not to be startled at eclipses, nor at storms and earthquakes, but to trace them to their causes: Learn them to admire the simplicity and consonancy of all nature’s laws: Shew them how nature never deviates from her purpose, never errs or is deficient; but that in a system compounded of such immense variety, some laws must unavoidably be sometimes thwarted by other laws of equal advantage in the whole, hence all her seeming irregularities or deviations: In fine, guide them gradually through all of nature philosophers have yet been able to understand and explain: And teach them to observe how nature can only be understood or unfolded, and how general properties or powers, and laws of powers are inferred from particular experiences by induction: And take every opportunity that offers of recommending to them that study of lines, figures and proportions, which hath been of so great use in unraveling nature, and explaining her operations, and in the invention of beneficial arts. For so soon as they have any idea of the utility of geometry in this respect, viz. as a key to the works of the great Geometrician, who doth all things according to weight and measure, they will be desirous of being initiated into it; and a little daily practice in it will wonderfully enlarge and invigorate their minds. But let not researches into nature stop here, but proceed yet higher to its nobler parts, viz. to the contemplation of the human mind, and the various capacities with which it is endued, to be improved by proper culture to very high perfection; till they clearly perceive what constitutes good order within the soul, and consonancy thereby with the universal Mind, whose workmanship our thinking and reasoning powers and all things that exist, are, and what makes good order in human society, or maintains and upholds public happiness. The transition from facts and final causes of the one kind, to those of the other, is exceeding natural and easy; and all the while the student is entertained with real harmonies, the knowledge of which qualifies for real usefulness in the world. ’Tis strange that any should imagine that enquiries into the structure of the mind, or its powers, and their laws and connexions, are to be carried on in any other way than researches into the qualities of bodies and their laws, i.e. by careful attention to what experience teaches, and just reasoning from experience; or that these enquiries should be imagined to have no affinity or relation the one to the other. How can facts be known but by experience; external facts but by the testimony of our senses, or internal ones but by inward sensation or consciousness? And what things can be more closely or intimately blended and connected than our bodies are with our minds, and by consequence, the laws of the material world with those relating to our moral powers? In the knowledge of these two consists the whole of real science; the science which enables either for self-government, or for beneficialness in human society; beneficialness to society, whether with respect to the arts of policy, or the mechanical arts, on the advancement of which the conveniency and comfort of human life so greatly depend. Contemplation is the proper employment, the proper food of the understanding; and the contemplation of the beautiful order and wise final causes of nature in all her laws and productions, hath a delightful influence on the temper of the mind, by inspiring into it the love of order in the heart, and in outward manners, and by wonderfully harmonizing the soul, and all its affections and motions. And indeed, as it is in itself an exceeding pleasing employment, for which man is the only creature within our cognizance that is fitted by his frame, whether of body or mind; so it must be considered by all who believe a future more spiritual existence of our souls, in which their principal business and happiness are to consist in the intelligent contemplation and admiration of the divine works and government, as a very necessary preparation to capacitate for such exercise. For they who are acquainted by practice with searching into established connexions and general laws of nature, and their good ends here, are by such use qualified for continuing the same research, however new the objects may be; whereas, on the other hand, one who is an utter stranger to such enquiries, must enter into a future state, very unprepared for that which is justly supposed to make so considerable a part of the employment and entertainment of a future more intellectual and refined existence. But this is not all; for even confining our views entirely to our present state, all the interests of human life require large insight into the laws of the natural and moral world. Nothing can be done for the furtherance of human happiness without it. And in proportion to the advancement of moral and natural knowledge, are men qualified for all the nobler purposes and uses or advantages of human life. All the practical arts, whether of the moral or natural kind, from which any benefit to society can be brought, presuppose this knowledge: They cannot precede, prevent or surpass it, but must owe their advancements to its improvements, and do indeed proportionably advance with it. In every regard therefore, it is the business of education to acquaint youth early with the method of studying nature, and with the pleasure and advantage of such study: It is not merely necessary on this account, that they may be able, when men, to amuse themselves agreeably, and without making the least step towards vice in hours of retirement and solitude: But it is absolutely requisite, in order to qualify them for serving their country when they enter into the world, and capacity for action is reasonably expected from them: From all, of some kind, and of the highest sort from those whose birth and fortunes afford them time and means of high improvement: For no man is born for himself alone; and consequently a happier situation for improving one’s mind, is in reality a proportionably stronger obligation to take due pains to fit one’s self for the most important services to society. If every man be under obligations to mankind, to his country in particular, the bond, the tie must bear proportion to, and grow with the means and power one’s rank and place, by the allotment of providence, gives him. In this wise and just light ought youth, exeemed by an advantageous birth from drudgery to their backs and bellies, to consider this their good fortune. But in vain would they be called upon to enforce this noble sentiment upon their minds, if they were not at the same time initiated into the knowledge, which alone can qualify them for acquitting themselves of this obligation. Moral and natural philosophy, sciences, which tho’ distinguished by different names, are indeed, in their nature, as nearly allied as their objects, soul and body, ought therefore chiefly to enhance the time of youth, whom we would prepare for living either agreeably or usefully in the world, either for solitude or for active life: And languages are only necessary as means of getting into acquaintance with the knowledge of those who went before us, or who speak different languages from our own; or for the sake of communicating what we know to others; and are therefore but a subordinate part, which should have but a subordinate share of their time and application. Let youth be early led through several parts of nature, and from them to the consideration of the Author of all things, whose perfections shine so conspicuously in every law and effect of nature. Let some part of this study be their daily employment, so soon as they can, by the properest care, be rendered capable of it, which, if proper means and methods be used, will be found to be much sooner than we are apt to imagine; and can never be, without taking fit ways for engaging them in it, and making them like it. Much, very much may be done, as we shall see afterwards, to gain this effect, without the formality of lessoning, by conversation. But let even their earliest lessons be of this kind chiefly. Nor will this be difficult for masters who are themselves acquainted with this study, considering the helps they may have from several excellent writings, in which natural phenomena are reduced to their general physical laws, and others in which the final causes of these laws are pointed out. Yet it is to be wished that some system of physics were compiled out of such writings for the use of youth, in which effects were ranged into a more simple and natural order than any I have yet seen, in which final causes are not entirely overlooked. For, generally speaking, the explication of effects, and the doctrine of final causes are sejoined: at least, in the treatises of physics wrote for the instruction of young students, little or no notice is taken of the uses and ends of the laws of nature. Sir Isaac Newton, who may be justly called the light of the natural world, since a great part of it was utterly involved in darkness, utterly unknown till he was able to penetrate into it and unfold it; but more especially, since the nature of light itself, by which all things are rendered visible, was first laid open and explained by his accurate profound researches and reasonings.—This truly marvellous genius, as Socrates in ancient times, with good reason blames68 “Latter philosophers for banishing the consideration of the first cause out of natural philosophy, feigning hypotheses for explaining all things mechanically, and referring other causes to metaphysics; whereas the main business of natural philosophy is to argue from phaenomena, without feigning hypotheses, and to deduce causes from effects till we come to the very first cause, which certainly is not mechanical; and not only to unfold the mechanism of the world, but chiefly to resolve these and such like questions: What is there in places almost empty of matter, and whence is it that the sun and planets gravitate towards one another, without dense matter between them? Whence is it that nature does nothing in vain; and whence arises all that order and beauty which we see in the world? To what end are comets, and whence is it that planets move all one and the same way in orbs concentric, while comets move all manner of ways in orbs very excentric; and what hinders the fixed stars from falling upon one another? How come the bodies of animals to be contrived with so much art, and for what ends are their several parts? Was the eye contrived without skill in optics, and the ear without knowledge of sounds, &c?” To treat physics in another manner, is to leave out the most pleasing and useful part of that science, with respect to the habit and temper of the mind. For repeated views of harmony, wisdom and goodness in all the works of nature rivet firmly upon the mind a fixed conviction, that all is under the administration of a general Mind, as absolutely remote from all malice as from all weakness, whether in respect of understanding or power, than which nothing can have a more sweetning influence upon the mind. A bad opinion of the Author and Governor of the universe must not only sour the mind, but provoke to like malignity as far as our power reaches. “And, according to the hypothesis of those who exclude an universal Former and Father of the world, it must be confessed there can nothing happen in the course of things to deserve either our admiration and love, or our anger and abhorrence. However, as there can be no satisfaction at the best, in thinking upon what blind chance and atoms produce, so upon disastrous occasions, and under calamitous circumstances, ’tis scarce possible to prevent a natural kind of abhorrence and spleen, which will be entertained and kept alive by the imagination of so perverse an order of things. But (continues the same excellent moralist) on another hypothesis (that of perfect Theism) it is understood, ‘That whatever the order of the world produces, is in the main both just and good.’ Therefore, in the course of things in this world, whatever hardship of events may seem to force from any rational creature, a hard censure of his private condition or lot, he may, by reflection nevertheless, come to have patience, and to acquiesce in it. Nor is this all. He may go further still in this reconciliation, and from the same principle, may make the lot itself an object of his good affection, whilst he strives to maintain his generous fealty, and stands so well disposed towards the laws and government of his higher country. Such an affection must needs create the highest constancy in any state of sufferance, and make us in the best manner support whatever hardships are to be endured for virtue’s sake. And as this affection must of necessity cause a greater acquiescence and complacency with respect to ill accidents, ill men and injuries, so of course it cannot fail of producing still a greater equality, gentleness and benignity in the temper. Consequently, the affection must be truly a good one, and a creature the more truly good and virtuous by possessing it. For whatever is the occasion or means of more affectionately uniting a rational creature to his part in society, and causes him to prosecute the public good, or interest of his species with more zeal and affection than ordinary, is undoubtedly the cause of more than ordinary virtue in such a person. This too is certain, continues the same author, that the admiration and love of order, harmony and proportion, in whatever kind, is naturally improving to the temper, advantageous to social affection, and highly assistant to virtue, which is itself no other than the love of order and beauty in society. In the meanest subjects of the world, the appearance of order gains upon the mind, and draws the affection towards it. But if the order of the world itself appears just and beautiful, the admiration and esteem of order must run higher, and the elegant passion or love of beauty, which is so advantageous to virtue, must be the more improved by its exercise in so ample and magnificent a subject. For ’tis impossible that such a divine order should be contemplated without extasy and rapture, since in the common subjects of science and the liberal arts, whatever is according to just harmony and proportion, is so transporting to those who have any knowledge or practice in the kind.” These are excellent reasons for instructing youth early in the harmony and good order of the world. In truth virtue hath not, it cannot have its full force, unless it be considered as imitation of, and conformity to the temper of the universal Mind, that framed and governs all things, and therefore as absolutely requisite to recommend to his favour. Virtue is not only not complete, when due affection is wanting towards the infinitely perfect Parent of nature, but where this is wanting, there can neither be the same benignity, firmness or constancy; the same good composure of the affections, or uniformity of mind, as where the settled persuasion of perfect administration is daily comforting the mind in its adherence to virtue, and exciting to more and more extensive benevolence, in emulation of such an amiable character, and through desire of his approbation and love. Natural philosophy, or instruction in the wisdom and goodness of the works of creation and providence, is therefore the first step in teaching and recommending virtue. The moral lesson should proceed thus, viz. by inferring from every fresh instance of good order and wise contrivance, the perfection of the universal Mind, and his liking to virtue, which is nothing else but serious affection to publick good, subduing and ruling all our other affections. Thus virtue comes upon the mind with all its collected force, with all its charms and obligations; and therefore cannot fail of taking fast hold of it, and of bringing, by repeated considerations of this kind, all our appetites and passions into due and regular subordination to it. Instances of wise final causes, duly explained, will easily lead at once to a clear view of the nature of virtue, or of rational perfection, and of all our obligations to it. For they will lead to this evident truth, which renders the cause of virtue quite triumphant; namely, “That God, who is perfect wisdom and virtue, must approve and love those who are at due pains to improve in wisdom, and what he loves and delights in he will make happy.” Indeed every evidence of the wisdom and benignity of the Author of the universe, is an incontestible proof of his sincere and thorough regard to virtue; and consequently, that the truly good will be well taken care of under his administration. For perfectly wise and good administration must mean such government as is adapted to the promotion, improvement, encouragement and honour of virtue. These are equivalent propositions; or at least the one is involved in the other. And as nothing can be more preservative of virtue, more comfortable or strengthening to it than this delightful persuasion; so the proper way of confirming and fixing it upon the mind, in such a manner as to render it an active principle, is to be daily inculcating it upon youth, from such instances or examples of wisdom and goodness in the works of nature, as set the moral perfection of the Creator and Governor of the universe beyond all doubt. But for this effect, natural philosophy must not stop short at natural phenomena, properly so called, that is, the effects of matter and motion, but consider also the moral powers, faculties and affections with which human minds are adorned, and the noble improvements to which they may be exalted by due culture. And indeed here final causes lie yet more open and obvious to all who will be at any pains to enquire into them, than in physiology. For how many glorious instances doth history, nay even present times, afford of the perfection of knowledge to which human reason, and the perfection of benignity to which human hearts may be improved, which loudly upbraid the folly, perverseness or indolence of all who fall short of them! Not one power or affection can be named in the human soul which may not be cultivated into some very noble perfection or virtue. Take away our understanding or our activity, and we become mere passive beings; but with these faculties, how great a dominion may men acquire, even on earth, and what noble and glorious deeds may they do? Take away our appetites and passions, and men will not indeed be in danger of several vices: But on the other hand, where will there be place for temperance, fortitude, generosity, and all the brighter virtues, which are the greatest ornaments of human nature? These powers and affections therefore are given us for very noble ends, however we may corrupt, abuse or pervert them: Even to make us truly great and good, to enable us to rule, and to give us subjects to rule and keep in good order and subjection, to afford us means of spiritual or moral dominion. In teaching the philosophy of the natural world, and of the human mind more especially, in order to lead to just conceptions of providence, and of human duty, frequent occasions will present themselves of taking off all the difficulties about providence which are apt to disturb the virtuous in their gloomy hours, or have ever afforded any plausible subterfuge to the professed disbelievers of a deity and a future state. For virtue, which is the best possession, as well as highest ornament of the rational nature, and into competition with which nothing can come, if there really be an after-life; or if the souls of men be really immortal, is a purchase in every man’s power. The vigorous persevering efforts of the mind to improve in knowledge, and every moral excellence, never prove abortive, but are ever rewarding themselves by fresh acquisitions, in which conscience triumphs with an undisturbable joy, no riot of sense amidst the greatest affluence or grandeur can equal. And as for external goods, how obvious is it, that they are upon the most equal footing imaginable with respect to all men, since it is industry or toil that procures them? They are by the establishment of nature its rewards: And therefore they are falsely said to be distributed by the Author of the world with partial respect of persons. In truth to demand that riches and health, and outward advantages, should never fall to the share of the vitious, but into the hands of the good and upright alone, is absurdly to demand, that honesty alone should be able to put forth the hand or move the limbs: It is to demand, that all the properties of air, fire and water, in one word, all the laws of mechanism, should shift and change, according to the intentions of human agents. But nature works not in so desultory a manner, but steadily and uniformly, that intelligent industry may be as successful as the laws of matter and motion, upon which the whole order of our corporeal system depends, permit, being never crossed or disappointed, but in consequence of the uniform operation of some very useful law. For did not nature produce external effects, according to the same unvarying laws and connexions, men would not be able to comprehend nature, nor consequently to imitate it, or to produce any effect by counsel and art; and being thus divested of all power, dominion or activity in the natural world, man would be a most ignoble, inglorious creature, in comparison of what his reason and active powers now render him. There lies therefore no objection against providence on account of the law of industry, by which external purchases or advantages are obtained, according to the appointment of nature. And much less do inequalities in the partition or division of outward happiness, arising from the want of benevolence amongst mankind, or the bad constitutions and administrations of civil governments, afford any ground for arraigning the frame of mankind, or the government of the world, since man is furnished with powers by his Author, improveable into so noble a capacity for promoting public good and happiness; and the partition or circulation of happiness must greatly depend upon the forms and administrations of civil societies, in consequence of man’s being framed for society and union: Because, in order to be framed for society, men must have been made mutually dependent, or in other words, common happiness must exceedingly depend upon right or proper confederacy to promote it. This is the case with regard to outward advantages, and necessarily too, in some measure, with regard to internal ones. But still a virtuous habit of mind is the truest felicity of man: And it is in every one’s power who will set about it in earnest to obtain this best of goods, even under the greatest outward disadvantages. For if we look into nature and transfer our view from thence inwardly into our own minds, we shall quickly find, that the supreme Author of the universe hath bound nature fast in the chains of his fixed decrees, laws or ordinances, which all corporeal things steadily obey; but he has left the soul of man absolutely free, so that every one may be what he wills, a Titus or a Caligula. Our power to form our minds, to subdue our passions, and to establish reason in our breasts as our legislator and ruler, is as evident to our feeling and consciousness as our existence: That within certain bounds we have power, dominion, or liberty, is as indisputable as our being. Now what remains to render this idea of human life absolutely consistent with the most perfect administration, if, consistently with these things above mentioned, we consider our present state as our first step into being, our entrance upon rational life; and consequently, as intended to be what such a state should be, a proper school of education, discipline and trial, for forming, cultivating, and bringing to perfection all the glorious virtues of which our moral powers and affections are naturally capable, to be succeeded by a state in which improved moral faculties shall be properly placed, i.e. so situated as to have proper exercise and employment about objects suited to them, and in consequence thereof, high and noble happiness. For if we look upon human life in this light, not only adversity but prosperity ought to be considered as designed to be a trial, a school to virtue for its exercise; and the vicissitudes with which this world is chequered, have, over and above the final cause already mentioned, this further moral fitness, even that they render this world a proper theatre for forming and bringing forth into action several noble truly glorious virtues. Some are tried by adversity, and some by prosperity, or rather all have their successions of both, not only that human nature may be diversified, and appear in various lights, and thus be a school to the thinking for acquiring moral knowledge, but that all may have their opportunities of fixing and invigorating in their minds all the active virtues and graces in their turns. To this we may add, that tho’ none are destined to be vitious, merely to give occasion to the wise and virtuous to display their wisdom and goodness, yet the vices into which so many wilfully plunge themselves, do in fact afford opportunities for the wise and good to exert several excellent qualities, for which there would otherwise be no room. For were there no infirmities, deficiencies, errors or vices, to supply, redress, correct, oppose, or reform, how would there be place for compassion, generosity, wisdom, valour, patience, magnanimity, patriotism, and a meek forgiving temper? It is in difficulties or struggles that virtue exerts all her excellence, and shines out with her fullest lustre.

This view of human life is at once consonant to the idea of the beginning of rational life, as ours plainly is, and to the perfections of the Creator of the world. Nay, perfect providence hath indeed no meaning, if we conceive otherwise of it. For what doth that universal pursuit of the greater order and good, which all researches into nature are daily confirming by fresh discoveries of beautiful and good contrivance mean, if rational powers, capable of eternal progress and exercise, are made to be destroyed, just after by great care and assiduous culture they are brought to a capacity for truly noble employments, instead of being removed into a situation proportionated and adapted to their acquired excellence, as this is to their cultivation and improvement? Where is there in nature any trace or mark of such waste and destruction, not to say cruel malignity? But having elsewhere insisted at great length69 upon these important truths, it is sufficient to observe here, that it is only by inculcating them early upon youth, that virtue can be taught or fully recommended and endeared to them. And therefore, unless virtue be an empty name, this is the proper, the essential lesson in education. Now the way to teach and confirm this doctrine, and all its excellent comfortable consequences, is to lead youth daily thro’ various instances of wisdom and order in the world, and from thence to the consideration of the human mind, and the perfection it is capable of; and to shew them how these marks of wisdom and benignity confirm a divine providence, universally pursuing the greater good, and therefore particularly interested in favour of virtue, the supreme excellence of the rational nature, and therefore God’s image. But in order to carry on moral philosophy to its due perfection, together with natural philosophy instead of stated lectures upon the faculties and affections of the human mind, and the virtues belonging to them, a better method is to read daily with them some piece of history. I have already taken notice, that it is proper to begin with reading and discoursing to them upon select characters or actions, such as those singled out by Mr. Rollin; but after their minds are a little opened and enlarged by this practice, it will be proper to read history with them in chronological order, that thus they may have a view of the progress of human affairs. There, ’tis known, fit examples will ever be presenting themselves for unfolding human nature, all the springs and movements by which we are actuated, all the vices into which mankind may degenerate or be perverted, and all the temptations by which men are misled or corrupted, and all the glorious virtues of which men are susceptive, and the means by which they are strengthened, tried and perfected. Lectures have but little force without examples, and it is better that examples should give occasion or rise to the lectures, than that the latter should seem to haul in the other, as it is better in natural philosophy, that a simple narrative of the facts should precede the conclusions they lay a foundation for. Let the first lessons aim at nothing higher than fixing useful facts upon the memories of youth, which are very tenacious of whatever is agreeably represented or told to them, and giving them a general notion of the excellence of virtue and the deformity of vice. But let not, however, such lessons stop short at mere generals: But let youth be often practised in giving their opinion of actions and characters, and resolving questions about fit and unfit, just and unjust, that they may have by this practice clear and distinct ideas of just and unjust, generous and mean, in every particular circumstance of life, and may thus lay up in their minds sound judgments, confirmed by examples for the direction of their conduct in all the various cases, relations, businesses, or incidents of human life, which shall ever afterwards be ready for use. For it is not enough to have a general notion of virtue: One to be prepared for life must be able to judge readily what virtue requires in almost every particular situation or circumstance. No doubt order requires, that teachers begin with the simpler cases, and proceed gradually to those which require accurate attention to more circumstances; but neither wisdom nor virtue are a ready stock at full command, till by frequent practice in judging, duty immediately presents itself, supported by the solid reasons which render it such, when decision or action is requisite. The great lesson to be inculcated is the excellence of virtue, or unblemished integrity, by steady impervertible adherence to truth and right. And the most important work of education, in order to produce this incorruptible disposition, is to fortify youth early against all the allurements of vice, on the one hand, and all base or mean terrors on the other. Now, for these lessons or instructions, history will ever and anon be furnishing expert masters with very proper and natural opportunities. And to proper examples of greatness of soul, in preferring public good, or truth and moral rectitude in any case to private interest, or of baseness of mind in yielding to any vice, either through voluptuousness or cowardice, it will be fit to add the most beautiful energetic passages in poets, describing or celebrating such true virtue, and stigmatizing with eternal infamy the opposite vices. Let this be done in our own language, till the students have made considerable progress in the learned languages. For maxims, precepts, principles or examples, written in harmonious numbers, both strike the reason more strongly at first, and are more easily retained by it afterwards. And surely instructions in virtue and duty ought not to be postponed to languages. Let all the force of reasoning be confirmed by examples, and all the charms of poetry and eloquence be likewise employed to rivet upon young minds abhorrence of every vice, and sincere love to virtue, and to teach them to look down with disdain upon wealth and outward grandeur, in comparison of the inward independency and liberty of an unpolluted heart. What requires the greatest caution of teachers, when they read history with young pupils, is to take care lest the splendor of the external pomp and magnificence of very wicked men, or the renown with which very inhuman atchievements have been most unjustly honoured, should dazle and mislead them into a false notion of glory. Let care therefore be taken, in the earliest part of their education, to inure them first to enquire into the justice and equity of actions, and to raise their aversion against all cruelty, all violence, all ungenerousness, from a full conviction of the essential difference betwixt right and wrong. But these things are obvious, and therefore need not be further enlarged upon. Teaching moral knowledge and virtue by history, tho’ it must begin, as we have said, yet it must not rest here, but proceed gradually, taking occasion, as the minds of pupils enlarge, to point out to them all the laws of natural equity with regard to the conduct of one sovereignty or civil state towards another in matters of negociations, commerce, war and peace, and to distinguish them from certain polite formalities, which tho’ they have been generally received amongst the more civiliz’d nations from very ancient times, because of their use, are not however founded on the same solid, unchangeable principles of justice. The one are to the other what in private life between man and man the forms of good-breeding or politeness are to the immutable rules of integrity. For in reality, tho’ the law of nature be distinguished, for the sake of order and method, from the law of nations, we are not to imagine that there is one law of equity and rectitude for the regulation of private men in their mutual commerce one with another, and another quite different for the regulation of states, or of those who hold the sovereignty in civil states, towards one another. Violence, injustice, ingratitude, infidelity, falshood, dissimulation, are the same hateful vices in the one case as in the other. And between nation and nation, as well as between man and man, truth, integrity, candour and generosity are the same virtues, and have the same indelible obligation: A state is but a greater one. If these laws of war and peace, as they are generally called, war and peace being the two principal articles to which all the affairs of nations or states may be reduced, are carefully attended to in reading history, youth will soon be prepared for reading with judgment and intelligence Pufendorff, Grotius, Heineccius,70 (an excellent introduction to this most important study) or any other of the celebrated doctors of the laws of nature and nations. And indeed it is very preposterous to begin reading or explaining these authors to youth till they are pretty well acquainted with history, since such lectures cannot stir one step without bringing examples, which, without previous acquaintance with history, cannot be sufficiently understood, but must rather be an embarassment. Another thing that ought not to be omitted here is, that before students can read the authors above mentioned, or any writer upon these subjects, or indeed fully draw all the information they otherwise might, from the best Roman authors, or fully relish them, it is necessary that they should be pretty well acquainted with the Roman law. And therefore I have always thought, that so soon as students have formed clear notions of justice, and of the end of civil government, or rather, in order to perfect their notions of them, Justinian’s institutes should be read with them, and they be practised in strictly examining the Roman laws and usages by principles of natural equity. It is well known, that the language of the writers on the laws of nature and nations is taken from the civil law; and besides, the principles of justice can never be so clearly or fully comprehended from mere general propositions and precepts, without the help of examples, as by taking to task, so to speak, a particular body of laws, and observing their agreements and disagreements with natural law, their deficiencies in respect of it, or their departures from it, and strictly canvassing the reasons of these diversities, with careful attention to the difference there must always be between the extent of natural and civil laws, and to the coherence there ought to be amongst the laws of any state, and the agreement they should have with the temper of the people for whom they were made, and their particular polity. Now the Roman laws are the best example for this purpose, for from them are the writers on natural equity ever borrowing their examples: No body of law, perhaps, recedes less from the law of nature: And in proportion as classical learning is reputed or valued, will acquaintance with the Roman laws and usages be necessary on this very account, that knowledge of them is indispensibly requisite to a thorough understanding of the best Roman authors, the best of their poets not excepted. Entrance upon this kind of study requires very considerable preparation. But however much reading the laws of nature and nations may be neglected in education, it is certainly necessary, if a thorough intelligence of equity be so; for it means nothing else. And if it be necessary, this is the regular manner of setting about and pursuing it. There is no other road to it. How can persons be qualified for making, reforming, or applying laws, which is the business of the highest civil stations in societies, without a thorough acquaintance with natural justice, and all the best fences for liberty and property, and with the interests of their country, which its laws and courts of justice ought to be adapted to promote or secure? With what conscience can any who are ignorant of these matters, thrust themselves into the important trusts which require profound acquaintance with them? And if the study be really of such evident utility, nay necessity, how unaccountable is it that it should not make a principal part in education? One who cannot judge of equity, and the interests of a country, whatever his birth may entitle him to, excludes himself from such a trust, by his neglect to fit himself for the momentuous charge: For if he adventures, unprepared, to undertake any such high commission, he boldly tramples under foot the most sacred rights of mankind, in respect of which crime that of any other who professes what he does not understand, or is not able to perform well, however high it be, is proportionably less, as the scope of every other profession is of inferior moment to this highest of trusts, providing for the public welfare and good, by redressing grievances, changing or reforming statutes, laying on taxes, and deciding fairly in ambiguous contests about property. Let me therefore call upon our young nobility and gentry seriously to consider what is their proper study, and upon all who are concerned in education, to reflect how unqualified they leave their pupils for the great business providence calls them to, however loaded they may go from them with other erudition, or however bedecked with merely ornamental accomplishments, if they are strangers to the nature and end of civil government, and the design and spirit of civil laws, and have not well digested notions of natural equity in its utmost extent, enabling them to discharge with equal dignity to themselves, and advantage to their country, the duties of judges, magistrates, or representatives; for otherwise they are not qualified for the great duty and business of their life. May I not add here a famous saying of Socrates, “That it is very strange that all the world should agree, that the arts of judging and governing are the most important of all arts, and yet every inferior profession should be thought to require an apprenticeship to fit for it, and this none at all. Who thinks of trusting a physician that is not known to have taken due pains to qualify himself for the business? And can birth or wealth give one a right to occupy the most momentous employments in the state, upon the skilful honest discharge of which all the interests of the public so greatly depend, whether he hath studied the arts of government, and thoroughly understand public good, and the intention of laws and magistracy, or not?”

Reading Justinian with young people, is necessary to acquaint them with the more useful part of Roman antiquities: And in general, it is fit that the books they read, in whatever language, should, so soon as possible, be such as are conversant about things of moment, the laws and customs of countries, and their foundation in reason, or the public interest of their country in particular: Such as are properest to give them a turn towards the fittest studies for them, and to qualify them to pursue these studies in the best manner. I am not for neglecting any branch of knowledge or science. But certainly, these of the highest and most extensive utility ought to be chiefly minded. And what can be more useful than expertness in judging of civil orders, laws and constitutions? Now to prepare for the reading and study which this requires, nothing more is necessary than just notions of good and fit, and their contraries in private life, or between man and man, and a strong sense of our natural indispensible obligations to the pursuit of public good: To this first part of education the other properly succeeds, as a continuation of the same study towards its perfection. But by what steps one ought first to be led to the notion of public good, and of the obligations we lie under to pursue it, hath been already observed. If natural philosophy, and the history of mankind so divide the time of youth as to make their principal work, and yet leave room for progress in languages, and exercises and diversions, youth may, by inculcating on their minds, upon proper occasions, these studies will plentifully afford to skilful masters for that purpose, a just idea of the frame and government of the universe, and this well-grounded hope the sincerely virtuous may comfort themselves with, in consequence of a divine providence administring all things to the best, “That in a state which is to succeed to our present one of trial and education, not to correct or amend, but to compleat and perfect this present system, well-improved moral powers shall be fully dignified and honoured, by being placed in circumstances adapted to their improvements, and affording them suitable employments, and by that means happiness of the noblest and most perfect sort the rational nature is capable of; happiness the same in kind with that of the divine Being, which appears evidently from his works, to consist in the perpetual exertions of his infinite power, under the direction of unerring wisdom and compleat benevolence, in communicating or spreading happiness and perfection as far and wide as omnipotence can reach, by the wisest and benign est management.”—By inculcating this proper lesson upon youth, on every occasion, they will soon be qualified for determining what virtue requires or forbids, in whatever particular cases and circumstances, insomuch that after some gradual practice in comparing and examining cases of right and wrong, the most complicated will become easy to them.

In truth, where this kind of education hath no place, youth are daily employed in things much more intricate, perplexed and difficult. And till it can be proved not to be the most necessary branch of education for private happiness or public service, it ought certainly to have the principal share in the instruction of youth, whatever may be thought the fittest method of teaching it. But what can be a more natural, easy, or pleasant method, what can answer the main end better, which is recommending virtue by a full view of all its charms and obligations, than that which hath been pointed out, I cannot conceive. For till virtue is apprehended as conformity to the character, temper and will of the Author of the universe, as what he likes and approves, and will in proper time sufficiently dignify, honour and reward, by placing it in a state which will afford it high and noble entertainments and exercises, after it is qualified for them by inferior employments, in its first state of schooling and probation. Till virtue is thus conceived of, all its excellence, all its strength, all its obligatory force is not understood or felt: And it is only from the nature of the divine works, which may be called his actions, that we can judge of the divine disposition, character or government, even as we can only judge of other beings by their conduct. We may indeed draw some few certain conclusions from the nature of a first cause, considered as such; and when we have found reason to infer the wisdom and goodness of the first independent mind, the source of all the beauty, excellence and perfection that are so largely dispersed through the universe, from his works and government, we may draw several necessary consequences from these his perfections, of the highest moment with relation both to our conduct and comfort. But ’tis from samples or specimens of wisdom and goodness alone that we can be fully satisfied with regard to the moral qualities of the first and universal Cause. And these indeed carry an irresistible conviction along with them; an evidence equally forcible and pleasing to the mind. Here therefore the first lessons concerning virtue ought to begin. And let it be considered by the by, how such instruction and study will qualify for the most agreeable of all entertainments in retired hours, whether forced or voluntary. None who are acquainted with such delightful, uncloying researches, and with the benign, generous emotions they excite and keep alive in the mind, with the sweetness, cheerfulness, and complacency they diffuse through the whole soul, will ever complain of the dulness, the insipidity, the tiresome circle of human life, as many of those who are called men of pleasure are forced to do, amidst the most redundant affluence. ’Tis no wonder that strangers to all enjoyments but those of sense and voluptuousness, should be so often out of humour with themselves, with all about them, with the world in general, and be constantly pursuing happiness and ever disappointed, as they plainly appear to be, by their splenetic fretting, by their flying from themselves, and choosing to live in a perpetual hurry, and their changing and shifting their pleasures as often as their sickly peevish imaginations can present them with new fancies, and thereby raise new appetites. The mind of man must have business or exercise. But the pleasures of mere sense bear no proportion to the large capacity, or the active and refined nature of our rational faculties. But who ever tired of useful study; of enquiring into nature’s wisdom, order and goodness, or of imitating the Author of the world, by giving all diligence to improve his mind, and by exerting himself to the utmost of his power in doing friendly and generous offices? When did truth or virtue ever cloy, or leave remorse or disgust behind them? And the reason is, because rational are our properest, our best employments: Knowledge and virtue are the perfection of the reasonable nature: And it must hold universally true throughout all nature, whether in the material, animal, or moral world, that the most perfect state of a being is its soundest and happiest: To divide the perfection of a being from its happiness, is to separate a thing from itself: These two can no more jar than the essence of a being can differ from itself.

It cannot be expected that in a treatise of this kind, we should dwell long upon all the useful lessons that ought to be inculcated upon youth from history read in order, and which may indeed be much better taught and enforced from characters, actions and events, developing the inward springs of human conduct, and the different consequences of actions, whether with respect to private or public good, than by abstract philosophical lectures. In order to do this, it would be necessary to give some specimens of the instructions that may be drawn from a few select parts of history, by a kind of lectures upon them. But in truth, not to mention any of the ancient historians, one need only look carefully into Mr. Rollin’s abridgment of ancient history, to see that the records of human affairs which are transmitted to us, however defective they may be in several respects, will, however, afford sufficient opportunities of discoursing upon, and explaining at great length, of pointing out in examples, as in a glass, all the passions of the human heart, and all their various workings in different circumstances, all the virtues, and all the vices human nature is capable of, all the snares, all the temptations, all the vicissitudes and incidents of human life: Nor is it less evident, that history will give occasion for explaining not only all the rules of prudence, justice and integrity in private oeconomy, but likewise all the rules of justice, equity and decency relative to civil states, in their transactions one with another, i.e. all the laws of nature and nations, as they are commonly called, or more properly speaking, all the laws of natural reason with regard to independent nations or governments: ’Tis in history likewise that we may best see the necessity of good civil government, in order to the greatest happiness of mankind, the terrible effects of bad or ill-constituted government; and all the various springs and causes of changes and revolutions in governments of every sort. ’Tis therefore the best political as well as moral master. The bishop of Meaux71 and Mr. Rollin, not to name any other, have clearly pointed out every thing that ought chiefly to be attended to in history: And indeed there is hardly any truth in morals or in politics, which one may not learn from their works, with the assistance of a master acquainted with mankind, and with the ancient originals from which they have taken their remarks, as well as their facts. These authors teach us not only to attend to the moral and political facts above mentioned, but likewise to the regular succession and suite of human affairs, plainly demonstrating the superintendency of infinite wisdom, to the progress of religion in particular: In fine, they teach us to connect human affairs, and to take an united view of God’s moral providence. And indeed without this direction, one must needs be lost and bewildered in the moral world, in much the same manner, as he is in the natural, who rambles from part to part, without considering all as making one whole closely joined together, i.e. without any idea of the general laws into which all the variety of phenomena in it are reducible, and their excellent final causes. The instructive writers just mentioned are (I say) so full and distinct upon the uses of history, and the profitable lessons that may and ought to be derived from it into young minds, by a skilful teacher, in an equally pleasing and useful manner, that I shall here only take notice, that I have known very young men, without having neglected languages, very well acquainted with ancient and modern geography, and such perfect masters of the more remarkable successions and changes of empires, as they are delightfully delineated to us by the bishop of Meaux in a very narrow compass, as to be able thoroughly to understand, nay feel the important affecting truths these facts demonstrate, which can’t be better described than by briefly recounting a noted story of Scipio Africanus, whose character, in consequence of the excellent turn proper care about his education had early given him, ought frequently to be set before the eyes of youth, to excite them who would qualify themselves early for public service, to copy after his noble example. The story is shortly this:72 “When Scipio saw the famous city of Carthage, which had flourished seven hundred years, and might have been compared to the greatest empires, on account of the extent of its dominions both by sea and land, its mighty armies, its fleets, elephants, and riches, and that the Carthaginians were even superior to other nations by their courage and greatness of soul, as that notwithstanding their being deprived of arms and ships, they had sustained for three whole years, all the hardships and calamities of a long siege: Seeing this city entirely ruined, historians relate, that he could not refuse his tears to the unhappy fate of Carthage. He reflected that cities, nations and empires are liable to revolutions no less than particular men; that the like fate had befallen Troy, antiently so powerful, and in later times the Assyrians, Medes and Persians, whose dominions were once of so great an extent: And lastly the Macedonians, whose empire had once been so glorious throughout the world. Full of these mournful ideas, he repeated the following verses of Homer.

Thereby denouncing the future destiny of Rome, as he himself confessed to Polybius, who desired Scipio to explain himself on that occasion. He foresaw what must be the inevitable fate of Rome, if wealth should beget impatience of discipline, and in the room of ancient virtue introduce corruption, venality and dissoluteness of manners. How he came to be thus early, so knowing, both in political and military affairs; and withal so thoroughly generous and virtuous, as the whole of his conduct shews him to have been, we may learn from the accounts that are given of him and his education by history. Scipio, the destroyer of Carthage, was son of the famous Paulus Aemilius who conquered Perseus the last king of Macedon, and consequently grandson to that Paulus who lost his life in the battle of Cannae. He was adopted by the son of the great Scipio Africanus, and called Scipio Aemilianus, the names of the two families being so united, pursuant to the law of adoptions. Our Scipio supported with equal lustre the honour and dignity of both houses, being possessed of all the exalted qualities of the sword and gown. The whole tenor of his life, says an historian, with regard to his actions, his thoughts or words, was conspicuous for its great beauty and regularity. He distinguished himself particularly (a circumstance seldom found at that time in persons of the military profession) by his exquisite taste for polite literature and all the sciences, as well as the uncommon regard he shewed to learned men. It is universally known that he was reported to be the author of Terence’s comedies, the most polite and elegant writings which the Romans could boast. We are told of Scipio, that no man could blend more happily repose and action, nor employ his leisure hours with greater delicacy and taste: Thus was he divided between arms and books, between the military labours of the camp, and the peaceful employment of the cabinet, in which he either exercised his body in toils of war, or his mind in the study of the sciences. By this he shewed, that nothing does greater honour to a person of distinction, of what quality or profession soever he be, than the adorning his soul with knowledge. Cicero speaking of Scipio, says, that he always had Xenophon’s works in his hands, which are so famous for the solid and excellent instructions they contain, both in regard to war and policy. He owed this exquisite taste for polite learning and the sciences, to the excellent education which Paulus Aemilius bestowed on his children. He had put them under the ablest masters in every art, and did not spare any cost on that occasion, tho’ his circumstances were very narrow. Paulus Aemilius himself was present at all their lessons, as often as the affairs of government would permit, becoming, by this means, their chief preceptor. The strict union between Polybius and Scipio finished the exalted qualities, which, by the superiority of his genius and disposition, and the excellency of his education, were already the subject of admiration. Polybius, with a great number of Achaians, whose fidelity the Romans suspected during the war with Perseus, was detained in Rome, where his merit soon attracted the eyes, and made his conversation the desire of all persons of the highest quality in that city. Scipio, when scarce eighteen, devoted himself entirely to Polybius, and considered as the greatest felicity of his life, the opportunity he had of being instructed by so great a master, whose society he preferred to all the vain and idle amusements which are generally so eagerly pursued by young persons. Polybius’s first care was to inspire Scipio with an aversion for those equally dangerous and ignominious pleasures to which the Roman youth were so strongly addicted, the greatest part of them being already depraved and corrupted by the luxury and licentiousness which riches and new conquests had introduced into Rome. Scipio, during the first five years that he continued in so excellent a school, made the greatest improvement in it; and despising the levity and wantonness, as well as the pernicious examples of persons of the same age with himself, he was looked upon, even at that time, as a shining model of discretion and wisdom. From hence the transition was easy and natural to generosity, to a noble disregard of riches, and to a laudable use of them, all virtues so requisite in persons of illustrious birth, and which Scipio carried to the most exalted pitch, as appears from many instances of this kind related by Polybius, and highly worthy of being set before youth, to teach them where true dignity consists, and inflame them with a generous ambition to attain to it. It was at Scipio’s return from Macedon, that he met with Polybius in Rome, and contracted the strict friendship with him, which was afterwards so beneficial to our young Roman, and did him almost as much honour in after ages as all his conquests. We find by history that Polybius lived with the two brothers, and this incident, well worth our notice, is handed down to us. One day when Scipio and Polybius were alone, the former vented himself freely to him, and complained, but in the mildest and most gentle terms, that he, in their conversations at table, always directed himself to his brother Fabius, and never to him. ‘I am sensible, says he, that this indifference arises from your supposing, with all our citizens, that I am a heedless young man, and wholly averse to the taste which now prevails in Rome, because I do not plead at the bar, nor study the graces of elocution. But how should I do this? I am told perpetually, that the Romans expect a general and not an orator from the house of the Scipio’s. I will confess to you, pardon the sincerity with which I reveal my thoughts, that your coldness and indifference grieve me exceedingly.’ Polybius, surprized at these unexpected words, made Scipio the kindest answer, and assured the illustrious youth, that tho’ he always directed himself to his brother, yet this was not out of disrespect to him, but only because Fabius was the eldest; not to mention (continued Polybius) that knowing you possessed but one soul, I conceived that I addressed both when I spoke to either of you. He then assured Scipio, that he was entirely at his command: That with regard to the Sciences, for which he discovered the happiest genius, he would have opportunities sufficient to improve himself in them from the great number of learned Grecians who resorted daily to Rome: But that as to the art of war, which was properly his profession and his favourite study, he might be of some little service to him. He had no sooner spoke these words, but Scipio grasping his hand in a kind of rapture: ‘Oh! when, says he, shall I see the happy day, when disengaged from all other avocations, and living with me, you will be so much my friend, as to improve my understanding and regulate my affections? It is then I shall think myself worthy of my illustrious ancestors.’ From that time, Polybius overjoyed to see so young a man breath such noble sentiments, devoted himself particularly to our Scipio, who for ever after paid him as much reverence as if he had been his father. However, Scipio did not only esteem Polybius as an excellent historian, but valued him much more, and reaped much greater advantages from him, by his being so able a warrior and so profound a politician. Accordingly he consulted him on every occasion, and always took his advice, even when he was at the head of his army, concerting in private with Polybius all the operations of the campaign, all the movements of the forces, all enterprizes against the enemy, and the several measures necessary for rendering them successful. We have already observed, that Scipio had never given into the fashionable debauchery and excesses to which the young people at Rome so wantonly abandoned themselves. But he was sufficiently compensated for this self-denial of all destructive pleasures, by the vigorous health he enjoyed all the rest of his life, which enabled him to taste pleasures of a much purer and more exalted kind, and to perform the great actions that reflected so much glory upon him.”

’Tis such education that alone can produce so glorious a pattern of every great and amiable quality. And so soon as youth are able to enter into the excellency of such a character; they will have an example fixed on their minds that will at once give their ambition a very laudable turn, and direct them how to satisfy it. It was instruction in human affairs, knowledge of mankind, deep insight into all the movements of the human breast, and all the operations of moral causes, gathered from facts, that qualified Scipio very timeously for serving his country with such prudence and dignity, whether as a statesman or as a general. And therefore history, applied to these equally substantial and delightful uses, ought to make a main part in the institution of youth. Let it not however be imagined, that I would have any of the sciences, any part of philosophy overlooked in education. As for natural philosophy, it hath been already observed, that it ought to go hand in hand with moral history: And as for the other sciences, a little reflection upon the scope and uses of them, will soon shew every thinking person that one cannot on the one hand be qualified for them, till he is pretty well acquainted with the history of mankind, and hath treasured up in his judgment several of the more important truths it teaches, and it alone can confirm. Moral philosophy may be divided into the preliminary and more general part, which explains the constituent properties or powers of human nature, and their various motions or operations; all the faculties, powers, appetites and affections implanted in the breast of man, and their objects, tendencies, connexions, bearings and effects, and all the perfections or imperfections, virtues or vices belonging to them. But how abstruse, how abstract, dry and laborious will lectures of this kind be, till youth have been led by real examples to the knowledge of moral facts and their causes? And how easy and pleasant, on the other side, will such reading or study be to those, who having often seen the chief properties of human nature reflected on them by examples, as it were, in several mirrors, can immediately recal to their memories pregnant authorities for all that true philosophy can teach concerning mankind? As for the other subsequent and more particular part, which first of all classes under proper general heads the dictates of reason with relation to all the affairs of war and peace, and then enters into an accurate examination and comparison of different forms of civil government, and the maxims of policy, can it proceed solidly one step without historical examples; or can one be at all prepared for it till he hath carefully read the history of different nations and governments, and is considerably versed in the public affairs of states, which are at once the subjects of this philosophy, and the experiments from which alone it can draw any certain conclusions? It is highly necessary that the best writers on the laws of nature and nations, and upon politics, both ancient and modern, should be carefully read and well understood by all who would be duly prepared for the higher stations and services in their country: We are far from excluding such study from education: On the contrary, we regret that it is so much neglected. The question now under consideration is not whether it ought to have place, but when and what previous reading and instruction is requisite to it. And that very considerable acquaintance with history, and practice in drawing moral or political inferences from history is necessary to qualify for this study, seems to be indisputable, seeing it is from facts or experiments that moral doctrines must be deduced, as well as physiological truths. Every one is ready, now at last, to own that physical explications or rules, not founded upon and inferred from real facts in nature, are mere romance. But certainly it must be no less true with regard to morals and politics, that explications of effects, or rules for private or public conduct, not founded in and deduced from real truths or facts relative to mankind and human societies, are also mere vision. And which of the two is the most dangerous delusion we may leave to any considering person to decide. For all that is to be determined in this point is briefly, whether mistakes in mechanical or in moral attempts are likely to be of the most fatal consequence. Let youth in an orderly regular manner be instructed in the progress of human affairs, and inured to draw proper conclusions from them, first moral, and afterwards political ones, in proportion as their minds open and strengthen: And let the books put into their hands for teaching or improving them in languages, be such chiefly as have human affairs and duties for their subjects, such as Cicero’s books of laws and offices, &c. and after them Justinian’s institutes, and we shall soon find youth qualified to read with understanding, any of the best writers on natural law or on politics. But carry them without such preparation directly to systems of morals and politics, and you will find them sadly embarassed and difficulted, and proportionably displeased and fretted. The sciences have their natural order, and in vain do we attempt to get up to the top but by the gradual steps of nature’s appointment. There is indeed a science74 which bears very nearly the same relation to morals (by which let me be understood to mean the whole of philosophy relating to human nature and human affairs) that mathematics bear to natural philosophy, because, as the latter consists in investigating or demonstrating what properties of lines, figures, surfaces, solids, &c. may, must, or cannot co-exist [as when it is proved that a triangle or a circle must have such and such other properties] so the former consists in investigating or demonstrating what moral qualities may co- exist, what must co-exist, and what are absolutely incompatible: And therefore, as the one is a key to the natural world, so will the other, in proportion as it is cultivated, prove a key to the moral world. In other words, moral philosophy duly prosecuted, must be a mixed science, consisting of facts, and reasonings from facts, and abstract truths of the nature above mentioned conjointly, in like manner as physiology is a science mixed of observations or experiments, and reasonings from them, and mathematical truths conjointly. But having no orderly systems of these moral abstract universal truths for our assistance in moral enquiries, as we have of mathematical ones, to help us in physical researches, it cannot be introduced into the schools formally. The science we are now speaking of is widely different from that wild, pedantic jargon that hath long had too great a share in some schools and universities, under the name of metaphysic or ontology, of which we have already had occasion to speak our sentiments. But since we have as yet no system of the kind, it is needless to debate here what place it ought to have in education. Any one, however, who has any notion of what it must mean or propose to do, will immediately perceive, that it is not a study for novices, or raw unexperienced minds, but requires a large stock of distinct ideas, and a solidity of judgment, which must be the fruit of large acquaintance with nature, with human nature in particular. And indeed one of the best lessons that can be given to youth, whether with regard to progress in science, or to conduct in life, is to teach them to receive maxims, aphorisms, or general canons with great deliberation and caution. But, by the by, they are much mistaken who think, that whatever use even true maxims may be of in demonstrating truths after they are found out, they can be but of very little use to help invention. Were this the proper place for it, it might be easily made appear, that one of the best exercises for the improvement of invention, and the augmentation of science, is attentive practice in comparing and developing maxims of the truth of which we are sure. For upon a narrow scrutiny into any axiom of importance, it will be found to contain many truths in it which were not perceived when it was at first found to be true: When we begin to lay it open and spread it out, treasures that before lay hid in it gradually appear. There are in reality, as a great philosopher has well observed, but a very few truths in the world which make totally separate or distinct propositions. The greater part of every science is but one single maxim or two, diffused or spread out. To prove this, many moral maxims which are readily admitted and appear very simple, might be named, which, if duly attended to, would quickly put a period to several very warm disputes, and many very prevailing falshoods; as for instance, “that the knowledge of creatures must be progressive, or that moral experience must precede knowledge of rules that can only be deduced from many experiences”: “Habit or propensity presupposes not only a known object but repeated acts”: “Affections must have objects, or cannot be exercised without them”: But however that may be, the point in question remains indisputable, namely, that the best way of instructing in the affairs of mankind, is to begin with reading history, and drawing proper conclusions from the examples history furnishes; and to proceed to the profounder treatises on morals, after youth are very well acquainted with reasonings from facts, and have their minds richly stocked with clear ideas of human affairs, conveyed to them by examples. This certainly is the proper and natural order, if ideas can only be got from experience, and if we must have clear ideas before we can reason about them.

As for mathematics, it hath been already hinted, that some time should be allotted for regular instruction in that science, so far as is necessary at least for understanding the principles of mechanism, and comprehending the use of this science, as a key to nature, for the investigation of unknown natural causes, or the resolution of effects into known causes. And another reason hath likewise been suggested for making instruction in this science an early part of education, which is the natural tendency that a little practice in this elegant orderly science has to beget a habit of attention, to form the reasoning habit, and a taste of and liking to order and method. Now the only part of philosophy that remains to be considered, is logic; and of it we have had occasion elsewhere to say enough to shew that it is absurd to think of teaching it till youth have not only very well furnished minds, but have been pretty well practised in all the different species of reasoning. Let it only be added here, that the nature and degrees of moral, probable, or historical evidence, tho’ left out of what is commonly called logic, or but very superficially treated of in it, is, if not the most essential part of a science that merits to be called the art of reasoning, at least a very useful science in itself: And it can never be more successfully taught than in reading history, by leading students to consider and examine attentively and accurately the evidence of particular facts, and the assent due to various degrees of historical evidence, in proportion to the foundation each degree has in the general principles of probability. Plato considered logic as the finishing science in education. He illustrates the nature and use of it, by representing it as designed to give youth, after practice in various sciences, and all the different kinds of reasoning, demonstrative and probable, as from a summit, a view of the unity of the sciences: And as for that part of it which teaches disputing, or rather wrangling, he calls it teaching young people to delight in barking at one another like young whelps; and he pronounces it most pernicious in its tendency, in consequence of the dogmatical temper, or the itch of puzling, confounding, and perplexing by subtleties, it naturally has an influence to beget. Some may think we have been too long in delineating the sciences, which ought to make up liberal education: And others may think we have not been particular enough in our description of some of them. But the objection I am surest of meeting with is, How can there or will there be place for all these things? And therefore, tho’ some reply hath been elsewhere made to this objection, let me add here. 1. That what I have represented as the main instruction youth ought to have in view, is, in reality but one coherent lesson, that does not consist of many separate independent parts, but of two branches only, which are in their nature very closely united, the knowledge of the laws of our material system, and their final causes; and the properties of human nature and their laws. 2. Whatever be gained or neglected, if youth be not instructed in nature so far as to be able to carry on the study of it with equal understanding and pleasure, in proportion as they have leisure for it, when they leave the schools; and so far instructed in the nature, duties and rights of mankind, as to be fit, not only for private life, but for advancing by themselves in that knowledge without great perfection in which they must be absolutely unfit for public service, the most important point in education is not accomplished. 3. That while the sciences we have mentioned are left out in education, nothing but mere words can be minded, for there remains nothing else to mind; and to say that mere words should make the principal, or indeed more than the lowest scope in education, is directly to prefer words to things, i.e. pedantry, if there be any such thing, to real knowledge. 4. In the last place, it is contrary to many known facts or experiments, to say that a few hours a-day are not sufficient, if wisely managed from their tenderest years, to advance pupils very considerably in the knowledge of languages. And what is to be done with the rest of their precious time?

To proceed: It surely can’t be objected that we have left out religion. For we have endeavoured to shew, that even natural philosophy, if not employed to lead youth to a just notion of the perfections of the one Lord of the universe, and of our duties resulting from thence, falls far short of its best aim and noblest use, and is indeed little better than what is justly called in contempt cockle-shellship. The great design for which we have recommended instructing youth early in natural philosophy, i.e. in the laws of nature and final causes, is the moral use that may be made of this science, together with the improvement or extension of human power, which can only be brought about by advancing or cultivating the knowledge of nature. Youth ought to be taught and inured to ascend from instances of perfect wisdom and goodness in the creation, to the first Author of all beauty and good, and to pay the worship of heart that is due to such a Being: But above all, to inculcate upon themselves their obligations, arising from their relation to him, and from their interest, in consequence of his all-perfect government, [which must be in favour of virtue, and by consequence proportionably to the disadvantage of vice, in the sum and final result of things], to imitate the perfections of the Creator in wisdom and goodness; or to give all diligence to improve their moral powers, and to do good as they have opportunity, for this is the sum of religion, virtue and human duty. Now a mind thoroughly convinced of these truths, and deeply affected by them, is well prepared for instruction in the excellence of the Christian revelation. 1. For such a one will attend to it without prejudice, and consequently will soon see, that all the obligations Christianity represents as moral, all the duties it requires, whether with respect to God, our fellow-creatures, or ourselves, are perpetually binding, as resulting necessarily from the very nature of God, and our relation to him and to one another: And consequently, that were it possible to refute the external evidence with which the Christian revelation is accompanied, yet we could not shake off our obligation to these duties. Good men will not easily be induced to disregard a pretence to revelation which lays the stress of our acceptance with God where reason itself places it, i.e. where it must lie, in consequence of the divine immutable perfections: And whatever encouragement Christianity gives to those, who having long continued in their vitious courses, may, through their awful apprehensions of the divine rectitude and justice, despair of recovering the divine favour even by a change of life, it gives no ground of hope or comfort to any but those who become sincere lovers of virtue, and accordingly give due pains to advance and improve in it. This none of its enemies have dared to say: Nor can they, so strict, so pure are the morals Christianity teaches and commands, as the will of God for our salvation in a future state. 2. Those who have just conceptions of God, and the moral obligations resulting from thence, cannot have any objection against the glorious hopes Christianity sets before us, of rewards to duly improved moral powers, in a future state to succeed to this our present state of discipline and culture, by placing or employing them suitably there. For this is the very doctrine reason teaches us to infer from the divine rectitude. And it is in vain for vitious men to think of eluding severe suffering or punishment in a future state, for their neglect or prostitution of their moral powers, under the government of a Being who is infinitely perfect: Since an administration by which vice will suffer in the sum of things, in proportion to its demerit, is, in reality but another expression for an administration in favour of virtue, or in which men shall be treated according to their advancements in moral perfection. 3. And one who is well fixed in these principles, which are the foundations of religion, that is, without which there can be no religion, and it is absurd to talk of revelation, will not quarrel with Christianity on account of the positive duties it requires. One who is persuaded of the utility in respect of the public, and of the fitness in the nature of things, of public worship, will not find fault with Christianity for setting apart a stated time for cessation from labour to the brutes and the working part of mankind, on which God may be decently worshipped, and all ranks of men may have opportunity of fixing and enforcing their common duties upon their minds, and of being instructed in them. This Christian ordinance, if not absolutely a moral command, is so near a-kin to moral laws, that it is evidently in its nature a very proper mean of keeping alive in our minds a sense of divine providence, and all moral obligations. Nor are the other two positive rites or ordinances of Christianity more remote from moral duties, being likewise excellent means of improvement in virtue. Is not baptism a very proper mean of representing to parents their duties towards their children, and of bringing them under a known or declared public obligation to the diligent performance of them? And the Lord’s supper being nothing else but a serious grateful commemoration of all the blessed doctrines, i.e. all the blessed and glorious hopes set before us by Christianity thro’ Jesus Christ, who came to call us to virtue and glory, that we being made partakers of the divine nature, through holiness, might be qualified to dwell with God for ever, in the happy state he hath purchased, and is gone to prepare for the sincerely good, what can be more conducive, either to the improvement or comfort of Christians? of reasonable agents? It is an act of grateful praise, than which nothing in itself can be more joyous; and it is naturally a strong way of enforcing upon the minds of those who believe the truth of Christianity, a lively sense of all the obligations they lie under to the sedulous practice of true piety and virtue? All these therefore, which are the only institutions of Christianity that can be called positive, are indeed, in a true view of them, if not precisely of the same class with moral duties, yet very nearly allied to them, as moral means of improvement to every good affection or disposition of the soul. 4. He who is persuaded of the intrinsic excellence of the Christian institution, will not hesitate long about giving his assent to the external evidence it offers of its divine authority. For the works Jesus Christ wrought and gave his apostles power to work, bear the same relation to his doctrines that experiments have in natural philosophy to the doctrines or conclusions inferred from them, or which they are brought to prove, i.e. they were specimens or samples analogous in kind, and commensurate in quantity or moment to the knowledge and power he pretended to as a superior teacher, authorised by God to instruct mankind in several important truths relating to God, providence, virtue, vice, and a future state. By his works are meant the extraordinary cures he performed upon the sick and diseased of all sorts, his healing the lame, the dumb, and the blind, his instantaneously changing men’s tempers and dispositions, his insight into men’s most secret thoughts, his predictions of future events, his command over air, and sea, and every element, and above all, his raising the dead, and his rising from the dead himself the third day, as he had foretold, his ascension into heaven, and sending down miraculous gifts and powers upon his apostles, who were to be employed in propagating his gospel, as he had promised, to qualify them for that important business, and support them in it, and gain them credit. These works have been shewn to have the closest connexion with the truth of Christ’s doctrines, and together with the evidences he gave of his piety and integrity, to make a natural, proper and full evidence of his mission.75 And as for the credibility of the histories recording the works and doctrines of Christ and his Apostles, they stand on the same footing with other histories, and have indeed been so often proved to be above all scepticism, if historical evidence be at all admitted, that the disputers against Christianity do not choose to attack it on that side. In fine, the rational instruction of children in the genuine principles of Christianity, cannot be neglected by Christian parents or preceptors, without sinning against what they know and believe to be their indispensible duty: But certainly sound instruction in the principles of natural religion is a necessary preparation for it. And history will at least afford frequent proper occasions of shewing the utility, the absolute necessity of a public religion, and of evincing the excellence of true Christianity above all other religions that have ever been heard of in the world. That the persuasion of a divine providence, and a future state of rewards and punishments, is one of the strongest incitements to virtue, and one of the most forcible restraints from vice, can hardly be doubted of: And that public worship is necessary to support a general sense of religion, or of God’s providence, and a future state of rewards and punishments is very evident: Nor is it less so, that there can be no public worship without some received form and some established external rites: ’Tis as absurd to talk of public religious service without some settled manner and method of expressing or performing it, as to talk of languages without words. But what cult that ever obtained in the world under the notion of religion, except the Christian institution, when kept free or reformed from all the abominable corruptions with which it hath been and still is in some countries depraved, was not rather hurtful to society, than suited to the ends for which public religion is requisite to society? Or what can be pointed out on the one hand as wanting in true Christianity to make it a useful, a perfect public belief and worship; or on the other, as burdensom, superfluous, or liable to superstitious perversion? Christianity abounds with motives to encourage to virtue, and to deter from vice; nay none stronger can be added to them. And as its positive rites or ordinances are but few, so none can be imagined that are less liable to superstitious abuse? History will furnish frequent opportunities of illustrating and confirming these important observations to young students. And from the truths of natural religion and true morality, which it is the chief design of education to teach and inculcate, the transition to the doctrines and precepts of Christianity is very easy and natural: For as Christ himself, and all his apostles tell us, love must be the fulfilment of all divine laws, whether natural or revealed: These two commandments, saith Christ, love God with all your heart and all your soul, and love your neighbour as your self, are the sum of religion: Upon these two hang the law and the prophets. He that dwelleth in love, saith one apostle, dwelleth in God, for God is love: And charity, saith another, is the bond of perfectness, and endureth for ever. Christianity is indeed nothing else but the religion or law of nature carried to its utmost perfection. Christ came not to destroy, void or commute this eternal unchangeable law, but to compleat, to fulfil it, by rescuing it from the subtle evasions and distinctions with which it had been rendered a mere form of godliness by the Jewish casuists, without the power, the reality thereof, by pointing out its full spiritual extent; by shewing, in particular, that tho’ it is injustice alone, that civil courts can conveniently punish, and tho’, in a certain sense, justice is of anterior and more perfect obligation by the law of nature than benevolence, yet without benevolence reigning in the heart, and by consequence actuating the life, and keeping all other passions and appetites in due subordination to it, no man can be acceptable to God, or pleasing in his sight, God being perfect benevolence, guided by unerring wisdom in the exertions of his unbounded, uncontroulable power. Indeed, in respect of the stress Christianity lays on benevolence, it is Christ’s new and peculiar law.

In short, there is no moral or political truth, which a judicious reader of history with young people may not find frequent opportunity of explaining and confirming to them. And so much am I persuaded that we ought to be very well acquainted with facts or examples, before we are carried by our teachers to systems, that I think it were to be wished that even our systems of physiology begun with the facts or experiments, and ended with the doctrines, instead of formally laying down the truths to be proved, and then bringing experiments to prove them. The method we recommend in both philosophies would inure one from the beginning to the only true way of getting real knowledge, which is by searching into facts, without prepossession in favours of any particular hypothesis or system; a fatal obstacle to science, not yet entirely banished from amongst enquirers into nature, as clear as Lord Verulam hath long ago made it, and as generally confessed as it now is, that there is no other way of developing nature, or of learning rules of arts or of conduct from her, but by attending carefully, and without any biass to her operations and effects. Neither mechanical nor moral truths will yield to our fancy or caprice, but will remain inflexibly what they are, whatever we may imagine or dream them to be: And it is as absurd to think of executing moral ends, otherwise than by the means, and according to the order of nature’s appointment, as to think of working upon water, air, or any other body, in a way repugnant, or not suited to its properties and laws. Let youth therefore be inured to study mankind in real life or history, and be cautioned against attempting to form theories, whether of moral or natural things by the force of imagination, or otherwise than by endeavouring, by a close and accurate unbiassed scrutiny into facts, to find out the real qualities and laws of the Author of nature’s establishment, by which all his works are governed, each agreeably to its nature and kind. Be not afraid of shewing mankind to youth in the worst colours they have ever appeared. ’Tis long indeed since there was just ground for the Roman Satyrist’s complaint and exclamation.

Yet human nature is well constituted for society: There is no pleasure we are capable of, which does not some way lean or hearken to our kind, as our own admirable poet tells us.

The same Roman satyrist gives us, in the same satyr, a very true description of the social sense and propension, deeply interwoven with our frame and constitution.

As savage, ferocious, or cruel as men have, or may become, nothing is wanting in our frame to draw us to friendship and society, or impel us to compassion and benevolence. Even revenge itself is a social passion in its origin and rise, being nothing else but indignation roused by wrong or injury. Shew youth what a large share communication and participation have in all our enjoyments, or how largely all our pleasures partake of something relative to others. To be made for society is to be made for mutual giving and receiving. And the abilities and wants of men are so dispersed as to lay a necessary foundation for mutual assistance and intercourse. As it is the difference of products in different regions and climates that gave rise to external commerce, and makes it necessary; so universally in every district of mankind, men have different talents and powers, that they might mutually stand in need one of another, and have each something to give and something to receive.—Many united labours are necessary to make any one live tolerably happy in the world: And nothing gives pleasure or satisfaction to the human mind, equal to that which accompanies a sense of love and esteem, merited by well employed power.—Nature hath abundantly furnished mankind with the means of happiness, but hath left it to be their own purchase by united skilful industry: For industry is the purchaser of every good in life; but single industry can go but a very little way.—Finally, the equal regular circulation of happiness greatly depends upon the manner in which neighbourhoods or districts of men unite and confederate together for mutual relief, support and furtherance. Now this is to be made for society: And to what a noble height of happiness and grandeur do not well constituted and well regulated societies arise? Or what, in fine, is wanting to render any part of the earth happy, but good constitutions or orders equitably executed, i.e. good civil government? Nature, we may see, from the history of mankind in all ages of the world, hath laid a necessity of society in human nature, and pointed out by its lines the proper kind of it: For mankind are, and always have been an aristocracy, consisting of the few able to consult, debate and direct, and the many able to execute by their labour and strength; ever ready and willing to put and keep themselves under the direction of the former, while they consult and pursue the common good, but impatient of oppressive servitude, and prone to spurn and kick when they are despised or maletreated. History will afford opportunity of observing how the first governments were formed, and of attending to what may properly78 be called the generative principle of empire, the progress of industry and property. Readers of history can’t indeed be too often put in mind to observe how enlargement of, or changes in property, create, enlarge, fix, or change dominion.—But above all, let youth be taught to consider, that however much the regular distribution or circulation of human happiness must, in the nature of things, depend upon the constitution and administration of the political bodies into which men of the same regions coalesce; yet the best form of civil government is a lesson that cannot be learned without long experience, from many changes and revolutions in human affairs. Experience must precede every art, because it is experience alone that can lead to any art. But the art of government is at the same time the most important and the most difficult of all arts, or that which requires the longest previous experience and the profoundest thinking to compleat it; nor can it be otherwise: For arts must be difficult or remote from invention, in proportion as they are complex, and depend on the knowledge of many springs and causes. But what is more complex than the right formation and modelling of civil society, in order to gain and secure all the noble purposes of civil union? The political science can no more be perfected without long and attentive observation of human nature in various appearances and situations, than the theory of the moon, for instance, can be compleated, without long and careful attention to her revolutions and appearances. ’Tis no wonder, therefore, that it is so long before we see any thing in the history of the world approaching to a perfect form of civil government; especially, if we add to this the other consideration just mentioned, viz. That dominion will always be proportionable to property and vary with it. Let youth carefully attend to all the different forms of government that have ever been known in the world; their establishments, their changes and revolutions, the diseases they fell into, and their decays, ruins, or deaths; and hence let them form to themselves sure and solid maxims concerning civil polity.79 But let not the course of historical reading stop, till it comes gradually to modern times, and brings youth home into their own country, and shews them the various changes it has gone through, and explains to them its present constitution, laws and interests, and they are able to apply to it all the political truths and rules they had previously learned from more ancient histories. “It would be strange (says a most judicious author, whom we have often quoted in this essay)80 to suppose an English gentleman should be ignorant of the law of his country. This, whatever station he is in, is so requisite, that from a justice of the peace to a minister of state, I know no place he can well fill without it. I do not mean the chicane, or wrangling and captious part of the law: A gentleman whose business is to seek for the true measure of right and wrong, and not the arts how to avoid doing the one, and secure himself in doing the other, ought to be as far from such a study of the law, as he is diligently to apply himself to that wherein he may be serviceable to his country. And to that purpose, I think the right way for a gentleman to study our law, which he does not design for his calling, is, to take a view of our English constitution and government, in the ancient books of the common law; and some more modern writers, who out of them have given an account of this government. And having got a true idea of that, then to read our history, and with it join in every king’s reign the laws then made. This will give an insight into the reason of our statutes, and shew the true ground upon which they came to be made, and what weight they ought to have.” By careful instruction in true politics from ancient history, one will be soon prepared for reading the history of his own country with intelligence: Prepared for examining into the excellence or defects of its government, and for judging of the fitness or unfitness of its orders and laws. It is not so proper to begin with it, because one will better learn the true maxims of politics from distant histories, in reading which he is not in so much danger from any false biass or prejudice: And he will then proceed with far greater advantage to the study of his own country’s constitution, history and laws, when he hath got a measure or standard, the justness of which he is fully convinced of by repeated proofs and trials, to compare and judge them by.

But it is in vain to attempt pointing out all the noble lessons that may be best taught from history. Let me therefore only add once more, That the first and last, the great point to be aimed at from reading history with youth, is to fix upon their minds just notions of true worth, true greatness, and solid happiness; or to teach them to place merit where it only lies, not in birth, not in beauty, not in riches, not in external shew and magnificence, not in voluptuousness, but in a firm adherence to truth and rectitude or virtue; in an untainted heart, that would not pollute or prostitute its integrity in any degree, to gain the highest worldly honours, or to ward off the greatest worldly misery. This is true magnanimity: And he alone can be truly happy, as well as truly great, who can look down with generous contempt upon every thing that would tempt him to recede in the smallest degree from the paths of rigid honesty, candour and veracity.

The great lesson in life is, that virtue alone is true honour and solid durable happiness: It is not till this persuasion is deeply rooted in the heart, that one can be said to be well instructed, educated or formed. Our senses rush up fast to maturity, and their objects are ever assailing them. And therefore it is the business of education early to fortify and strengthen reason, that it may timeously be able to bear head against all the allurements of sense, all the specious promises and sollicitations of vice. But he alone can do so, who daily looks narrowly into his heart and life, and calls his appetites and conduct to a strict account, and seriously inculcates upon himself this lesson, which were it not true, ’tis indeed no great matter what else be true or false, That worth, merit and happiness are proportionable to one’s ability and disposition to do good. By ability, I mean not the external abilities which depend not upon us, but upon providence; but moral abilities, absolutely in our power to acquire, the ability of knowing what virtue or the public good requires, in whatsoever circumstances of life, and readiness and firmness to pursue it in our sphere, and to the utmost of our power, through whatever opposition, and in spite of whatever temptations from the side of pleasures, or whatever menaces and dangers. This lesson, in other words, amounts to this, That virtue is its own reward. By which saying is not understood, that virtue is to have no other reward but the pleasing consciousness of acting a worthy part that accompanies it here; no reward in another life: But that there are no satisfactions equal to, or comparable with virtuous or rational exercises; and that virtuous dispositions, or well improved moral powers, cannot be rewarded, cannot receive happiness or enjoyment suited, proportioned to their nature, but from their exercises and employments about proper objects: And that as virtue gives pleasure here in proportion to the improvements it makes, far beyond all that mere sense can yield, in the most advantageous circumstances of outward enjoyment; so in a state to come, it shall be so placed as its improvements require, i.e. be placed in circumstances that shall afford it business or employment proportioned to its capacity, and by means thereof the highest satisfaction. This is the only happiness a virtuous mind can imagine for itself, or fix its desires and hopes upon: All other enjoyments are low and mean in one’s view, in proportion to the strength and excellence of his virtue. And this is the happiness true philosophy and true religion promise to virtue: It is with this glorious hope it feeds, comforts and strengthens itself. In keeping the precepts of moral rectitude, the precepts of God, who is perfect virtue, there is a high present reward, that animates and supports virtue, as being a presage of the higher rewards awaiting it in another world, when it is become qualified by proper culture here, for higher employments there, or a more exalted sphere of activity. The glory that grace or virtue aspires, and only can aspire after, is grace or virtue made perfect, and suitably placed for exerting all its benignity and excellence. If this be not true, ’tis no matter what is, or is not truth; for unless this be true, religion, virtue, reason, public good and obligations to it, are empty names, and there is nothing truly desirable in existence: All nature is by the opposite opinion laid under a most horrible gloom, that men intoxicated by gross pleasures may forget, but that thinking will only increase and thicken. Let therefore the excellence of virtue, and the glorious hopes which virtue naturally calls up in every mind where it dwells, and gradually invigorates as itself grows and improves, be the subjects of the principal instructions given to youth. Nor will any one who is acquainted with the almost infinitely various ways in which this comfortable lesson hath been illustrated by ancient and modern writers, be afraid of surfeiting youth with it. In truth, the beauty of virtue never palls upon its admirers, but on the contrary, the more they consider and examine it, the more they see of its worth and truth: It gains approbation at its first appearance, but to discover all its charms and excellencies, requires deep and profound searching. And indeed all the ingenious arts, when they depart from or forsake virtue, become nauseous or insipid: It is in ministring to virtue, or setting forth her real beauty, that their dignity and value chiefly consists: Or rather, it is some just view of some part of the excellence of virtue, or of the deformity of vice, that makes what is called truly beautiful art, whether in writing or painting, or whatever other ingenious composition. Throughout all nature, and by consequence, throughout all the arts which imitate nature, virtue is the supreme beauty, the supreme charm. And therefore, let all the arts be called upon in education, to conspire in exhibiting the true beauty, which needs only be seen and known to be thoroughly and seriously admired and beloved. Some characters and actions of virtuous men we meet with in history, set forth the charms of integrity in their full lustre: And we must be very well acquainted with history, to be able to judge whether fiction be natural or not; but fiction, when it is probable, hath at least as much force as real history.

We have been recommending history as the best basis for building moral instructions upon, yet other arts, which can be rendered subservient to virtue, ought by no means to be neglected. And how proper fables (by which I would be understood to mean, not barely such Aesopic tales as are properly so called, but all fables, allegories, visions, every specious fiction, in short, by which any moral truth may be conveyed into the mind under the ingenious and agreeable semblance of aiming at nothing higher than mere amusement) are to attract the minds of youth, and gain their attention to useful instruction, the unanimous consent of the wisest instructors in all ages of the world, in the use of them, sufficiently demonstrates? In a collection of essays, which abounds with most excellent fables and allegories, this subject is thus discoursed of:82 “There is nothing which we receive with so much reluctance as advice. We look upon the man who gives it as offering an affront to our understanding, and treating us like children or ideots. We consider the instruction as an implicit censure, and the zeal which any one shews for our good on such an occasion as a piece of presumption or impertinence. The truth of it is, the person who pretends to advise, does in that particular exercise a superiority over us, and can have no other reason for it, but that in comparing us with himself, he thinks us defective, either in our conduct or our understanding. For these reasons, there is nothing so difficult as the art of making advice agreeable: And indeed all the writers, both ancient and modern, have distinguished themselves among one another, according to the perfection at which they have arrived in this art. How many devices have been made use of, to render this bitter portion palatable? Some convey their instructions to us in the best chosen words; others in the most harmonious numbers, some in points of wit, and others in short proverbs. But among all the different ways of giving counsel, I think the finest, and that which pleases the most universally is fable, in whatever shape it appears. If we consider this way of instructing or giving advice, it excels all others, because it is the least shocking, and the least subject to those exceptions which I have before mentioned. This will appear to us, if we reflect in the first place, that upon the reading of a fable we are made to believe we advise ourselves. We peruse the author for the sake of the story, and consider the precepts rather as our conclusions than his instructions. The moral insinuates itself imperceptibly; we are taught by surprize, and become wiser and better unawares. In short, by this method, a man is so far over-reached as to think he is directing himself, while he is following the dictates of another, and consequently is not sensible of that which is the most unpleasing circumstance in advice. In the next place, if we look into human nature, we shall find that the mind is never so much pleased, as when she exerts herself in any action that gives her an idea of her own perfections and abilities. This natural pride and ambition of the soul is very much gratified in the reading of a fable: For in writings of this kind, the reader comes in for half of the performance; every thing appears to him like a discovery of his own; he is busied all the while in applying characters and circumstances, and is in this respect both a reader and a composer. It is no wonder therefore, that on such occasions, when the mind is thus pleased with itself, and amused with its own discovery, that it is highly delighted with the writing which is the occasion of it. This oblique manner of giving advice is so inoffensive, that if we look into ancient histories, we find the wise men of old very often chose to give counsel to their kings in fables: Fables were indeed the first pieces of wit that made their appearance in the world, and have been still highly valued, not only in times of the greatest simplicity, but among the polite ages of mankind. Jotham’s fable of the trees is the oldest that is extant, and as beautiful as any that have been made since that time. Nathan’s fable of the poor man and his lamb is likewise more ancient than any that is extant, besides the above mentioned, and had so good an effect, as to convey instruction to the ear of a king without offending it, and to bring the man after God’s own heart to a right sense of his guilt and his duty. We find Aesop in the most distant ages of Greece; and if we look into the very beginnings of the commonwealth of Rome, we see a mutiny among the common people appeased by a fable of the belly and the limbs, which was indeed very proper to gain the attention of an incensed rabble, at a time, when perhaps they would have torn to pieces any man who had preached the same doctrine to them in an open and direct manner. As fables took their birth in the very infancy of learning, they never flourished more than when learning was at its greatest height. To justify this assertion, I shall put my readers in mind of Horace, the greatest wit and critic in the Augustan age; and of Boileau, the most correct poet among the moderns; not to mention La Fontaine, who by this way of writing, is come more into vogue than any other author of our times. The fables I have here mentioned, are raised altogether upon brutes and vegetables, with some of our own species mix’d among them, when the moral hath so required. But besides this kind of fable, there is another in which the actors are passions, virtues, vices, and other imaginary persons of the like nature. Some of the ancient critics will have it, that the Iliad and Odyssey of Homer are fables of this nature; and that the several names of Gods and heroes are nothing else but the affections of the mind in a visible shape and character. Thus they tell us, that Achilles, in the first iliad represents anger, or the irascible part of human nature. That upon drawing his sword against his superior in a full assembly, Pallas is only a name for reason, which checks and advises him upon that occasion; and at first appearance touches him upon the head, that part of the man being looked upon as the seat of reason. And thus of the rest of the poem. As for the Odyssey, I think it is plain that Horace considered it as one of these allegorical fables, by the moral which he has given us of several parts of it. The greatest Italian wits have applied themselves to the writing of this latter kind of fables: As Spencer’s Fairy Queen is one continued series of them from the beginning to the end of that admirable work. If we look into the finest prose authors of antiquity, such as Cicero, Plato, Xenophon, and many others, we shall likewise find, that this was their favourite kind of fable. I shall only observe farther upon it, that the first of this sort that made any considerable figure in the world, was that of Hercules meeting with pleasure and virtue; which was invented by Prodicus, who lived before Socrates, and in the first dawnings of philosophy. He used to travel through Greece by virtue of this fable, which procured him a kind reception in all the market-towns, where he never failed telling it, as soon as he had gathered an audience about him.” To these recommendations of fables, as one of the best means of insinuating moral lessons agreeably into the minds of all, the young more especially, I have nothing to add; but that the politest of writers, Horace himself, never pleases so much, or conveys his lesson or reproof either more agreeably, or more forcibly, than when he introduces a fable, tale or story. And there is indeed no moral truth, even the most abstract, nor no moral counsel or reproof that may not be conveyed in this elegant manner of instruction. Those therefore who are concerned in the education of youth, ought to make themselves acquainted with all the best fables by which ancients or moderns have illustrated moral truths; and to exercise their wit in contriving or inventing proper ones, that they may have always at hand some apposite fable to confirm and set off any truth they would impress upon young minds, but chiefly for conveying their admonitions and reproofs in the least provoking, and, consequently, the most successful manner: A preceptor skilled in this art, would seldom or never be obliged to reprimand in the austerer way; and would be able to render all his lessons equally pleasing and instructive.

And this leads to observe, that teachers of youth must not trust entirely to their grave and formal lectures, but take frequent opportunities of instructing their pupils by conversation, by entertaining them sometimes with a fable, and sometimes with a piece of real history; by leading them to ask questions, and by guiding them to the discovery of truth, in the Socratic way, by acting the midwife to their thoughts, as Socrates himself called his manner of instructing, by a series of questions issuing naturally one from another, till the truth to be confirmed shewed itself, as it were, of its own accord, to the person instructed, or rather till he was brought as it were to start it himself, and then seize it as his own discovery. We are indeed at a great deal of pains to load the memories of youth; but very little is done to exercise their judgments or inventions: And yet it is by suitable exercises only, that judgment or invention, as well as memory, can be quickened or strengthened. Youth, whatever science they are taught, ought to be inured to speak out what they have learned, not by rote, in consequence of servilely mandating what they have read, but easily and in their own words, from their judgments and not from their memories. They ought also to be practised in resolving questions belonging to the science they are learning, for the solution of which they have already laid up sufficient data: This ought universally to be the practice of masters in teaching all the sciences, mathematics, natural philosophy, or morals and politics; in teaching the latter more particularly: For here it is of great moment, that youth be early able to judge both quickly and solidly concerning right and wrong, just and unjust: But to this perfection in the moral science they can never attain by the help of general rules alone, without practice in pronouncing concerning characters and actions, and in determining particular cases.83 In order to qualify masters for all these methods of teaching; and more particularly, for instructing by familiar conversation, they ought to be close studiers of the Socratic dialogues, that are preserved to us by the disciples of that great master, from whom all the different families or sects of ancient philosophers sprung, as all the different species or forms of poetry did from the first father of that art Homer; those particularly which Xenophon hath transmitted to us with his inimitable simplicity. No method certainly is so proper, whether for instruction in truth, or for refuting error, and disentangling from prejudices and difficulties. It is not so properly instruction, as the art of leading to truth, and enabling one to instruct himself. Never was a philosopher or teacher so much followed and beloved: Never were lessons so greedily attended to and sought after as his; and never had any mere man more success in recommending and teaching virtue and true knowledge than Socrates, as is plain from his history: And this is an irrefragable argument of the peculiar excellence of that method of instructing or reproving, which takes its name from him who was the first inventer, or at least made the greatest use of it. And in all probability, one of the chief reasons why schools and lectures so soon disgust youth in modern times, at all that bears the name of erudition or scholarship is, that masters seldom or never descend from their austere magisterial manner, into the familiar way of conference, but rather affect to banish from philosophy, as too sprightly and gay, all the arts of illustrating and sweetening moral lessons by fables, allegories, and other such ingenious and agreeable embellishments, with which we find the best ancient sages, Socrates in particular, ever adorning and begaying, so to speak, their lectures. But we need not insist longer upon explaining or recommending instruction in the Socratic way: Its nature and excellence can only be understood by examples; and a little acquaintance with the authors above mentioned, will soon satisfy every thinking person, that tho’ it be an art that cannot easily be acquired, yet some degree of dexterity in it is absolutely necessary to qualify for the knack of rendering teaching agreeable: And that without having frequent recourse to it, ’tis hardly possible to improve the invention or imagination of youth.

Before I leave this article, in which teaching youth from history hath been so earnestly urged, it is proper to take notice, That history will afford the properest occasions of explaining to young people ancient customs and rites, civil, political or religious, and consequently, all that is commonly called antiquity; and of pointing out to them, in good prints, at least, all the remains of ancient sculpture or painting, that preserve representations of them to us: ’Tis in historical lessons, as usages of these kinds happen to be mentioned in history, that coins, pictures, statues, bas-reliefs, &c. properly have their place; the chief use of them being, either to confirm history, or to give us clear representations of customs that can hardly be fully understood from mere verbal descriptions; and to shew, at the same time, the progress and decline of these very ingenious and useful arts themselves. Nothing can be more dry than a course of lectures upon antiquities, without such monuments before the teachers and scholars: And a regular course of antiquities, even with such proper helps, cannot be so entertaining, or be so well retained, as when customs and manners are taken notice of, just as they occur in history, and are then explained from the coins or other monuments, which exhibit them to our eyes. Thus things succeed or mix as they ought; and the one serves at the same time to diversify and to enlighten the other.

It is the same, in a great measure, likewise with respect to rhetoric. ’Tis by pointing out to youth the beauty of sentiments and of expressions, and of order and arrangement in the charming speeches that we meet with in ancient historians, and by inuring them to translate, imitate, and repeat them, that the art of speaking, and a just notion of oratory is best taught: And by frequent lessoning and practice of this kind, they will soon be prepared for examining, or tracing to their foundations in human nature, and in order and harmony, all the rules and precepts of oratory: All the rules concerning stating and unfolding the truth or fact to be confirmed, and concerning proving and establishing it, or concerning refuting the contrary opinions and suppositions, and amplifying and enlarging the point to be proved and enforced, and working up and interesting the passions of the hearers in favour of what we would recommend to them or persuade them of. Rules are best understood, when examples that confirm them and point out their fitness or necessity, naturally lead one, as it were by the hand, to take notice of them. One who is persuaded and moved by a speech, and heartily admires its force and beauty, will with pleasure enter into a critical examination of its excellencies; and willingly lay up in his mind the rules of rhetoric such an example of eloquence plainly suggests. But to teach rules abstractly, or without examples, and before the agreeable effects the observance of them tends to produce, which are in reality their reason or foundation, have been felt, is exceeding preposterous. It is here as it is in natural philosophy, after we are well acquainted with causes, having been led to them by their effects, we may compute what their influences or effects would be in given circumstances, or how they should be applied, and how they would operate: But we must begin with effects, and learn causes and rules or general laws from particular specimens or examples of them, i.e. in short, we must first be very well acquainted with effects before we can understand causes, or their applications, and draw any conclusions from them. The case is the same both in natural philosophy and rhetorick. For what are general rules of rhetorick, but rules collected from effects, for gaining certain effects upon the mind. But it is by means of specimens only that rules can be shewn to be fit means for accomplishing such or such ends; nor could they ever have been known to have been fit rules, were not certain effects resolvable into them: In other words, ’tis only by analyzing effects into them, that they can be demonstrated to be good or true rules, in much the same manner as it is by reducing effects in nature into a cause or law that accounts for them, by which alone certain other phaenomena can be accounted for, that we can only collect with any certainty the general laws of nature, whether for the explication of natural appearances, or for the direction of mechanical arts.

Another reason for making history, and the truths it affords, proper occasions of explaining and confirming a principal branch of education is, that as such reading will take in the progress of all arts and sciences, and give opportunity of discoursing of their rise, improvement, and uses, it must prove a very proper means of trying different genius’s, and exciting them to disclose and shew themselves. The instructor will by this means have an opportunity of observing what kind of observations, or what kind of arts, most strike some, and what others. For the natural biasses of minds towards particular studies and pursuits, want but invitations to bring them forth, and make them declare themselves, and cannot appear ’till they are properly tried. While education proceeds in one beaten uniform rout, it is impossible to discover different talents or turns of pupils; tho’, in all probability, each mind hath a particular one; because as affections so genius never puts itself forth, till its proper objects call upon it. There is a book written by Juan Huartes, a Spanish physician, entitled, Examen de ingenios, wherein he lays it down as one of his first positions, that nothing but nature can qualify a man for learning; and that without a proper temperament for the particular art or science which he studies, his utmost pains and application, assisted by the ablest masters, will be to no purpose.84 He illustrates this by the example of Tully’s son Marcus. Cicero, in order to accomplish his son in that sort of learning which he designed him for, sent him to Athens, the most celebrated academy at that time in the world, and where a vast concourse, out of the most polite nations, could not but furnish the young gentleman with a multitude of great examples, and accidents that might have insensibly instructed him in his designed studies: He placed him under the care of Cratippus, who was one of the greatest philosophers of the age, and he himself composed books on purpose for his use. But notwithstanding all this care, history gives us no great character of Marcus; nature (who it seems was even with the son for her prodigality to the father) rendered him incapable of improving, by all the rules of eloquence, the precepts of philosophy, his own endeavours, and the most refined conversation in Athens. This author therefore proposes, that there should be certain triers or examiners appointed by the state to inspect the genius of every particular boy, and to allot him the part that is most suitable to his natural talents. To confirm this, he adds, that Plato, in one of his dialogues, tells us, that Socrates, who was the son of a midwife, used to say, that as his mother, tho’ she was very skilful in her profession, could not deliver a woman, unless she was first with child, so neither could he himself raise knowledge out of a mind, where nature had not planted it. Accordingly, the method the philosopher took of instructing his scholars by several interrogations or questions, was only helping the birth, and bringing their own thoughts to light. The Spanish doctor abovementioned, as his speculations grow more refined, asserts, that every kind of temperament has a particular science corresponding to it, and in which alone it can be truly excellent. As to those genius’s, which may seem to have an equal aptitude for several things, he regards them as so many unfinished pieces of nature, wrought off in haste. An excellent writer of our own, after quoting these remarks from the Spaniard, adds the following reflexions. “There are indeed but very few to whom nature has been so unkind, that they are not capable of shining in some science or other. There is a certain bent towards knowledge in every mind, which may be strengthened and improved by proper application. The story of Clavius is very well known: He was entered in a college of Jesuits, and after having been tried at several parts of learning, was upon the point of being dismissed as an hopeless blockhead, till one of the fathers took it into his head to make an essay of his parts in geometry, which, it seems, hit his genius so luckily, that he afterwards became one of the greatest mathematicians of the age. It is commonly thought, that the sagacity of these fathers in discovering the talents of a young student, has not a little contributed to the figure which their order has made in the world. How different, continues the same author, from this manner of education, is that which prevails in our own country? Where nothing is more usual than to see forty or fifty boys of several ages, tempers and inclinations, ranged together in the same class, employed upon the same authors, and enjoined in the same tasks? Whatever their natural genius may be, they are all to be made poets, historians, and orators alike. They are all obliged to have the same capacity; to bring in the same tale of verse, and to furnish out the same portion of prose. Every boy is bound to have as good a memory as the captain of the form. To be brief, instead of adapting studies to the particular genius of a youth, we expect from the young man, that he should adapt his genius to his studies. This I must confess, is not so much to be imputed to the instructor, as to the parent, who will never be brought to believe, that his son is not capable of performing as much as his neighbour’s, and that he may not make him whatever he has a mind to.” After which this author adds: “If the present age is more laudable than those which have gone before us in any single particular, it is in that generous care which several well disposed persons have taken in the education of poor children; and as in these charity schools, there is no place left for the overweaning fondness of a parent, the directors of them would make them beneficial to the public, if they considered the precept which I have been thus long inculcating. They might easily, by well-examining the parts of those under their inspection, make a just distribution of them into proper classes and divisions, and allot to them this or that particular study, as their genius qualifies them for professions, trades, handicrafts, or service by sea and land.”

Education in our schools is too narrow and confined, and therefore not at all calculated for this very important purpose to society; early to discover different genius’s, in order to give to each betimes its proper improvements. All with us are educated in the same manner; a few classics is all they see or hear of, except it be a little of arithmetic and a little dancing: How therefore can masters discern different turns and abilities of youth? What is done to draw out each particular genius and make it shew and exert itself? Yet at a very small cost to the public, this very momentous end might be gained, by furnishing our schools, as the Instituto at Bologna is, by the care and direction of the Count Marsigli, and originally at his private expence. There are in that academy schools or apartments for all the sciences, properly adorned or rather fitly furnished. The chamber of painting and sculpture is replenished with antique busts and statues, some good pictures, and many very good drawings and prints; the mechanical chamber, with models of engines of various sorts; the chamber of mathematics and fortification, with maps and models of fortified towns, and with the more necessary pieces of artillery and instruments of war; the astronomical school with telescopes, globes, quadrants, and other proper utensils for observing the heavenly bodies: And there is a large gallery furnished with minerals, metals, fossils, plants, flowers, and other natural curiosities, so elegantly and properly disposed, that by visiting this apartment now and then with attention, one can hardly fail of becoming pretty well acquainted, in a little time with natural history: There are masters for the learned languages: and lectures are given upon drawing, fortification, all the parts of mathematics, and upon mechanics and the other sciences, at such regular well distributed hours, that all the students may attend them, without neglecting their language-lessons. Now, in schools or colleges thus furnished, there would be proper means for employing geniuses, and alluring them to appear and exert themselves: But even where that is not, or cannot be done, reading history with youth in such a manner as to take every proper occasion to discourse of every science and art, its end, use, origin, progress, and improvement, would in a great measure serve this momentous purpose of schools and education, viz. finding out early the natural bent, genius, and talents of youth, in order to cultivate and improve them to the best advantage, and avoid forcing nature, as must happen when education is carried on in the same beaten uniform train, without any proper attempts to discern natural geniuses, or to suit education to them. And in truth, the same methods which are necessary to gain this end, are of admirable use to enlarge and open every mind: It is true, one in order to be useful in life, ought to apply himself to one study, business or profession chiefly, and to choose that for which nature has best disposed and qualified him: But before one betakes himself to any of the more liberal professions for life, it is very fit that he should have had a very large view of men and things, and have, for that effect, been assisted in looking with intelligence into many arts and sciences: So much ought one to know of all, in order to succeed in any one well, as is necessary to give him a view of the strict union, connexion, and dependance of all the sciences, and enable him to discern what helps and assistances any one of them may, or rather must derive from the rest. And indeed there is no other remedy or antidote against the narrowness, stiffness, and pedantry which are so often complained of by men of large and liberal minds, as accompanying, more or less, all the learned professions; but this more enlarged institution in the public schools, or under private tutors, we are now recommending. We have already had occasion to observe the good effects of it amongst the ancient Greeks and Romans. And may we not appeal to experience, and ask what it is that forms or produces the truly liberal scholar, the man of thorough good taste and equal politeness, the large, open-minded, easy, as well as knowing and learned gentleman, no less fit for public business than for private company, equally useful and entertaining and agreeable wherever he is, or about whatever he is employed.—What else is it but extensive large views, deep insight into men, comprehensive knowledge of the world, and such an acquaintance with all human affairs and arts, as preserves him on every occasion from embarassment, being sufficient, at least, to direct him into the proper train of informing himself more fully concerning whatever occurs.—And to what else can this perfection be owing; or how else can it be brought about, but by an education which leads one in a natural proper order through all human affairs; and instead of confining him to one narrow spot, teaches him to extend and widen his views, and gather in acquaintance with every part of nature, by looking with attention into the methods of carrying on every study or science, and into its chief discoveries and improvements. This may at first sight appear cutting out a task for education that is more than enough for human life. But every seeming difficulty, every objection against the manner of education which hath been inculcated in this chapter, will immediately evanish, if one will but consider that there are but two subjects of human enquiry or real knowledge; the laws or order of the material world, and human nature, which two have a very near, a very intimate connexion: And all therefore that is required to render education full and complete, is to divide the time of youth between these two; every other study besides, as we shall see more fully afterwards, comes properly under the notion of languages, or arts of expressing or communicating knowledge. Now, if youth went from schools or tutors well acquainted with these two sciences, what study, what profession or business would they not be at least well prepared to pursue by themselves, in a manner that could not fail of success? But on the other hand, while they are ignorant of these sciences, however full their heads may be crammed with words and terms of art, what are they fit to do, or apply to of any use to mankind, of any relation to society or real life? Suppose them masters of several grammars, capable of construing readily several books of different languages, and of giving English words or phrases for every word or phrase in the abstrusest Latin or Greek authors, yet if they have no notion of natural philosophy, no notion of the method of cultivating that science, and of the uses that have and may be made of it for the extention and enlargement of human power, and are utter strangers to moral philosophy, to human nature, and human rights and duties, for what service to society are they prepared; what science are they capable by themselves to pursue; into the elements or first principles of what profession are they yet initiated; or can they as yet be said to have only so much as a tolerable notion of any of the enquiries which best befit and most concern mankind; any idea of what is most worth our knowing, or most worth our pursuing? In fine, what authors in any language really worthy of our study are they qualified to enter into and understand? For books absolutely remote from these subjects, what are they at best but innocent amusements? And to understand books which have any relation to the order of nature, or to human affairs, more instruction surely is necessary than merely instruction in words or grammars? It was undoubtedly owing to the large and rational education of the Greeks in their better days, that their great men made so shining a figure in various capacities and situations, and that in the very beginning of what is called manhood: It could have been owing to nothing else; and to this alone do historians ascribe it. And indeed what advantages the Grecian youth had for opening, enlarging, and strengthening their minds betimes with extensive knowledge, not only by means of their schools, in which all the arts and sciences were taught them, and words were far from being their only employment, but in another way, quite unknown in modern times, is well worth our observation. Plutarch divides the life of statesmen into three ages. In the first he would have them learn the principles of morality and government; in the second reduce them to practice in the actual service of their country; and in the third instruct others. He applies, on this occasion, the custom used in Rome, where the vestals spent the first ten years in learning their office, and this was a kind of novicate; the next ten years they employed in the exercise of their functions; and the last ten in instructing the young novices in them. Now this is not so much a description of the duty of good citizens, or men capable of serving their country in the more important offices of society, as it is a real and true account of the manner in which the ancient Greeks divided their lives in the best times of that renowned country. For thus did Aristides and other great men in and about his time lay themselves out. Aristides, says Plutarch, was not always in office, but was always useful to his country. For his house was a public school of virtue, wisdom and policy. It was open to all young Athenians who were lovers of virtue, and these used to consult him as an oracle. He gave them the kindest reception, heard them with patience, instructed them with familiarity, and endeavoured, above all things, to animate their courage and inspire them with confidence. It is observed particularly, that Cimon, afterwards so famous, was obliged to him for this important service. This was also the practice at Rome in the best days of that republic, as hath been already remarked in the short account we have given, from a very good author, of Cicero’s education. And who will not own, that it would be of great advantage to a state, if those who excel in professions of every kind, would take pleasure, and make it their duty to fashion and instruct such youths as are remarkable for the pregnancy of their parts and goodness of disposition? They would thereby have an opportunity of serving their country even after their death, and of perpetuating in it, in the person of their pupils, a taste and inclination for true merit, and the practice of the wisest maxims.

chapter v

Of instruction in poetry and her sister arts, painting, sculpture, music and architecture; and the place which these arts of design ought to have in liberal education, in order to form elegant taste, which is one of the best preservatives against luxury, being naturally assistant to, and corroborative of virtue.

The more ordinary course of education hath obliged us to take a great deal of pains to prove a very plain truth, “That science, or real knowledge, and not mere words, ought to be its principal object and scope.” And we have sufficiently shewn what we mean by the science or real knowledge which qualifies for usefulness, whether to one’s self, or to society. The science of nature, which at once teaches men how they may employ material things for their benefit and advantage, and unfolds to them the character of the supreme creator and governor of all things, in conformity to whose will our dignity and happiness must consist: And such a clear and full knowledge of human rights and duties, as that we may be able, in every circumstance of life, however complicated, easily to discern what virtue and public good, and by consequence, the laws of our Maker for our conduct, require at our hands, and oblige us to do, if we would act a truly worthy and right part, and approve ourselves to him who is perfect rectitude. The great art of education therefore lies in contriving and employing proper methods for engaging the young early in the love of these studies, and for early instilling the more important truths belonging to these sciences into their minds, and impressing them deeply upon them. I may perhaps be thought to have taken language in a very uncommon sense in the former chapter, when I hinted, that all that can belong to education may be reduced to these two general heads, science and languages. But that I have used language in its justest, as well as most comprehensive meaning, will be obvious to every one who but reflects, that there can be but two objects of human enquiry; truths themselves, i.e. real connexions in nature or facts, and the various manners of making truths understood and felt. Under science then we comprehend all truths or facts relating to the natural world, or to human nature, which can be discovered by experience or inferred from experiments, and by comparing properties known by experience one with another. So that we may divide science into natural and moral, and both into experimental and abstract; experimental which infers facts and rules from experiences; abstract, which shews what properties may, must, or cannot co-exist. Besides these, there plainly remains no other subject of enquiry to us, but the different methods of expressing, embellishing, or enforcing and recommending truths discovered by either these ways in either kind: And such methods we call in one word languages; under this idea, the didactic stile, oratory, poetry, and likewise all the arts of design, statuary, sculpture, painting, plainly fall. And therefore, if right education ought to teach and instruct first of all, or chiefly in truths, but next in the various good methods or arts of expressing or conveying truths into the mind, no sooner is a pupil led into the discovery of any truth, than he ought to be employed in comparing and examining several different ways, by which it may be unfolded, explained, cleared up, proved, adorned, beautified, or enforced, and recommended by oratory, poetry, or painting. For to apply this general observation to painting, which at first sight appears, and is commonly reckoned so remote from philosophy, nothing is more evident, than that pictures, which neither convey into the mind ideas of material laws, and their effects and appearances, nor moral truths, i.e. moral sentiments and corresponding affections, have no meaning at all; they convey nothing, because there is nothing else to be taught or conveyed. But on the other hand, such pictures as answer any of these ends, must for that reason speak a language, the correctness, strength, purity and beauty of which it must be well worth while to understand as a language, especially, since such a language is, as far as it can go, an universal one, the signs it uses being universal signs of nature’s establishment, the meanings of which never vary, but remain in all countries, and always the same.

The chief and most early care in education ought to be, to form good habits or dispositions in young minds: For unless the mind be, by previous discipline, pure from vice, and regular, docile, and well-disposed, instruction instead of having success, will be quite lost or thrown away upon it. And in this part of education, the principal thing to be aimed at is, to fix or settle early in young minds the considerative temper, or the habit of comparing and computing, before they choose or act: Indeed when patience of thinking, or the deliberative habit is gained, the chief and most difficult point is gained, whether with respect to advancement in science, or with regard to right practice in life. For he who can once settle and fix himself to think, will find no lesson very difficult; far less will he find the most important lessons such, those, to wit, which relate to duty or right conduct. It will be very easy to lead young minds to just and clear conceptions of the rules of life, and thus to furnish them with a measure or standard to judge by, if we can but once rivet in their breasts the love of instruction, and an attentive thinking habit. ’Tis certainly pleasure and pain that move us: Nothing can be the object of aversion and dislike but pain; or on the other hand, the object of affection or desire but pleasure. Pleasures of sense, of contemplation, of sentiment, of self-approbation, and their opposites, are all of them but so many different sorts of pleasures and pains. Let metaphysicians subtilize and wrangle as long as they will, this must be true, and be no more than an identical proposition, That what is pleasing is pleasing, and that pleasure alone can be pleasant. But it is reason’s business to compute and ballance pleasures and pains of all kinds, the more remote as well as those that are nearer; and those that are likely to follow as well as the absolutely certain: And then is reason well-educated, or formed into a really useful, because into a governing principle, when the mind hath acquired the habit of deliberating and computing before it chooses; and is qualified for computing readily as well as truly; which habit or temper can only be attained by inuring the mind betimes to think and reason before it acts, i.e. to compare, weigh, and ballance pleasures and pains in fair and accurate scales, before it determines and gives the preference. It is by this temper that one becomes master of himself, and able to resist all the most inviting specious promises and sollicitations of objects, till their pretensions have been thoroughly tried and canvassed. This disposition is what is properly called virtue or strength of mind: Without it one must be feeble and unsteady, unable to act firmly and regularly a reasonable or becoming part in life: Nay, he must be the sport of contradictory passions and appetites. It is by it alone that one can attain to that harmony and consistency of affections and manners which create peace within, and command trust, love and reverence from all around, even from the most dissolute and vitious: For human nature can never be so depraved as to be rendered quite insensible to the beauty and authority of wise and good conduct.

This temper makes one truly free: It gives us the truest, the most satisfactory and durable power, dominion or independency. Now, in forming this habit of acting with judgment, and in furnishing the minds of youth for judging well, there are two things chiefly to be taken care of. One is to inure youth to reason and compute from experience only, that is, from facts ascertained by observation, and not from abstract imaginary theories and hypotheses. The other is, to inure them to employ their reason chiefly about those objects and connexions in nature, which have the nearest relation to human life and happiness. In order to both which, it is manifest, that they ought to be early taught to take a just view of human nature, and to consider man as he really is, neither as a merely sensitive being, nor as a merely intellectual or moral one, but as a compound of moral and sensitive powers and affections. For in the human composition, those two different sorts of powers and affections are so intimately blended, that it is impossible to avoid errors concerning man’s duties or interests, if any one class of them be considered separately and independently of the other. Conclusions deduced from moral powers and affections considered apart from sensitive ones, cannot make human morality, if man really be a sensitive as well as a moral being, i.e. a being invested with certain moral powers and affections mingled with sensitive ones, both of which are intimately related to and connected with the laws of the sensible world. An exact theory of human morals can only be formed from a full and accurate review of the various natural principles, or natural powers and dispositions of mankind, as these stand related to one another, and to surrounding objects.

It were easy to point out several absurdities or mistakes, which take their rise from dividing those constituent parts of our frame from one another, that are really inseparable in the nature of things. I shall only mention one here, that there will be more occasion for attending to in the subsequent part of this chapter than any other: Hence, I think, it is, that some moralists have railed in such a vague, undetermined manner against luxury, as if all sensible pleasures ought to be despised by good and wise men, and therefore banished human society, but those that are absolutely necessary to our subsistance. In the more general, confused way of declaiming against luxury; all the pleasures of imagination, and all the ornamental arts, are damn’d as absolutely superfluous, nay, as inconsistent with reason and virtue. Cleanliness, not to say elegance, is condemned and interdicted, as if nature had given man eyes, ears, and other senses, with a natural taste of proportion, beauty, order and harmony in material objects, to no purpose. One happy consequence of inuring youth to reason from experience alone; and to employ their reason first and chiefly about those things that have the nearest relation to life, and with which therefore it is our interest to be early acquainted, would be, that the natural desire of knowledge, which is implanted in us on purpose to compel us to seek after that science, which is as necessary to guide our conduct in life, as light is to shew us our road, would not be misled into a way of gratifying itself by enquiries quite remote from the practice and business of the world, or that have no relation to human affairs and duties, as it too often is: For I am apt to imagine, that more are ignorant of life, and quite strangers to the world, and the affairs of human society, in consequence of employing their minds about objects that have little or no concern with men and things, than through mere stupidity or want of capacity. It is false learning that is the most dangerous enemy to the true, or that most effectually supplants it. Nothing therefore is of greater importance in education than to render youth betimes capable of distinguishing useful enquiry from those that ought only to have the place of amusements, like a game at chess or piquet. And for that reason, it would be of more consequence to exercise young people in often reviewing with attention a well-calculated table of arts and sciences, in respect of their different values or degrees of utility, than any other categories or arrangements of ideas whatsoever, that are called logic in the schools, tho’ such likewise may have their use.

But having sufficiently discoursed of instruction in science, teaching of words being generally well enough understood, and the fault with regard to that matter lying chiefly in this, that Latin and Greek words engross too much of the care of masters, to the exclusion, for too long a time, of real knowledge; I now proceed to consider instruction in what we have called above languages, viz. the arts of expressing, explaining, proving, embellishing or enforcing truths. The didactic stile ought to be clear, perspicuous and full, diffuse, or duly diversified, i.e. teachers, or those who write upon any science, in order to lead, as it were, by the hand, the raw and unexperienced gradually from truth to truth, till having opened their minds, and strengthened their reason and judgment, they are able to understand a conciser manner of instruction, should deliver their sentiments in the neatest and plainest manner, and endeavour to set what they would establish and inculcate in a great variety of lights, all concurring at once to illustrate or set off to advantage, and to confirm the points in question, and above all, they ought to study the method and order of beginning and proceeding by proper steps from the more simple to the more complex, and from the first and most obvious principles to those that lie next to them, or follow most immediately from them, which will be best learned by familiarity with the ancient geometricians: This didactic art will be learned of course by scholars at the same time that knowledge itself is conveyed to them in that way, if their masters excel in it; and yet more especially, if youth, after they fully understand any truths, are not only accustomed to speak or express them, but employed in teaching them to others but just beginning to learn: The art of teaching or speaking clearly, and of laying open and explaining known truths to others, by a regular progress, i.e. step by step, like all other habits, can only be acquired by practice: And nothing will be found more improving to youth, than to practise them in instructing others in what they have learned and thoroughly understand: Nor can masters, indeed, as will be found by experience, impose a more agreeable task upon scholars: It is a very proper way of rewarding their success; a proper way of honouring and distinguishing them, that will wonderfully flatter a very laudable vanity or ambition. Masters cannot enough study this art themselves, since it is only in proportion to their ability in it, that they can succeed as teachers, however freighted they may be with knowledge: And indeed, as easy an art as it may appear to those who never tried it, the expert teacher will, however, be daily finding new difficulties in it, so various are the turns and casts of human minds, and so imperfect, deficient, or equivocal and ambiguous are many phrases, names or words, in the best, the most improved and refined languages.

But there is an eloquence of another kind that ought not to be neglected in the formation of youth, and that would soon be attained by them, were but this one rule observed in education, viz. to inure students, after they have been led to the knowledge of any truth in the didactic way, to find out the properest methods of expressing it strongly and concisely, or of giving a convincing and emphatical view of it in few words. This last would be teaching them the language in which men ought to speak to men about the same points or truths, which can only be conveyed into the raw unformed, in a more slow and tedious manner. After young people understand any truth, it would neither be unpleasant nor unprofitable, but on the contrary, a very pleasing and useful exercise, to shew them in what different manners or lights different authors have represented it, each according to his own genius, or in order to adapt it to some particular cast of understanding; and then to make them try to find out other ways of expressing the same truth with due force, elegance and perspicuity. But we commonly begin in education with words, as if there were any other way of trying or judging words and phrases, or signs of any kind, but by comparing them with other expressions of the same truths they are intended to signify, and considering which are best, in respect of the sole end of language, which is to convey sentiments with perspicuity and force. The chief thing indeed is to have just or true sentiments, i.e. to have right apprehensions of the connexions in nature, material or moral, well disposed or digested by the judgment, and so ready at hand for use, on every proper occasion: For Horace’s rule will ever hold true,

But that knowledge may take fast hold of our minds, dwell with us, and afford us variety of delight, and that we may be capable of imparting it to others, so as to render it the source of manifold entertainment, as well as of information to them, various proper ways of proving, embellishing, and enforcing truths, ought to be studied. And therefore, in proportion as one acquires knowledge worth communicating, he ought likewise to be made acquainted with all the better ways of evincing and impressing any truths upon the minds of others, and to be practised in speaking, arguing, proving and enforcing; more especially, in giving equally clear and strong views of them in concise speech: For that is the language in which men ought to speak to men, or the improved: Diffuse discourse is proper only for the instruction of novices: It will please them as it lets in upon them light and knowledge altogether new, that wonderfully exhilerates and enlarges their souls: But as for the more advanced, it will be tedious to them, because unnecessary; or rather it will fret and provoke them, because it is a way of addressing them that does not acknowledge their improvements, but treats them upon the same level with the more ignorant and uninstructed. In discourses, and indeed in all kinds of composition designed for them, Cicero’s rule holds true, that the parum is less offensive than the nimium.86 The way to please such is to say just enough to light up their understandings, or warm their fancies, and so guide them to the subject treated of, as that by means of what is said, they may immediately be set a thinking about it in such a manner, as soon to be able to form a very full notion of it, which they shall take to be their own discovery, and think themselves obliged to the author for, only on account of the hints or direction he gave to their own understandings or imaginations, with regard to it. In truth, the great perfection of writing consists in so engaging the reader’s attention, and setting his mind so to work, that he can flatter himself with discovering, by means of the author more than the author intended, or at least all he intended, and much more than he has expresly or particularly spoke. And happy indeed is he who hath this talent, and can be short, substantial and concise, without obscurity; the common error the affectation of brevity leads into being darkness.

But the principles and rules of oratory, both as to what regards stating and proving a point, and what regards the movement of the passions, have often been so fully explained, that I need not dwell longer upon this subject than just to add, 1. That when pupils have once felt the power of some excellent speeches, their beauties will be easily understood by them; and then it will be very proper to read with them the principal passages in Cicero or Quintilian themselves, rather than in any modern copists from these authors; the chief maxims concerning proposing, developing, disintangling, establishing, confirming, amplifying a subject, and interesting the passions of the auditors in it. And 2. That in teaching the rules of oratory, if they are taught as they ought to be, philosophy is not deserted; for they all have their foundation in human nature, by nothing else but arts of moving and leading human affections, which must be deduced from their natures and dependencies; and consequently, to explain them aright, is indeed to lay open the human breast, and the avenues which lead into it, or the means by which its most secret principles of action are bestirred and agitated. For eloquence, as Plato observes, is only the art of directing the minds of people at will: And therefore the chief excellency of this art consists in moving seasonably the various passions, whether gentle or violent, which being to the soul what strings are to a musical instrument, need only be touched by an ingenious and skilful hand, to produce their effects. Now, in order to know how to move the strings of the human heart, its texture must be thoroughly understood: And teaching the arts of moving the affections, must be in effect teaching human nature: These arts can only be inferred from the nature of the human passions: They are nothing else but certain methods of working upon them, which, on the one hand, cannot be known without deep insight into human nature, and without the knowledge of which, on the other hand, human nature is but very imperfectly understood. In one word, oratory being an art which enables us to move and draw forth and lead the passions of others at our pleasure, it is a part of our moral power or dominion, acquirable only in the same way as any branch of our power in the material world is, to wit, by a thorough knowledge of its object: And therefore in a tree of the sciences, representing their dependencies and their unity, oratory would be placed among the practical arts issuing from the knowledge of human passions, and as such, among the arts of government. For of such power is eloquence, especially in free states, (indeed in absolute governments it will always be discouraged, and never come to any perfection, unless we can admit fulsome panegyric to be the chief part of it) that what Valerius Maximus says of Pericles may be applied to many others in the same and other such like ancient states, that there was scarce any other difference betwixt Pisistrates and him, except that the one exercised a tyranical power by force of arms, and the other by the strength of his eloquence, in which he had made a very great progress under Anaxagoras. And let it just be suggested by the by, that a table or tree of all the sciences, representing them springing from the same root, and mutually depending one upon another, would be of no inconsiderable use to young beginners in philosophy, but make a very proper subject for their initiatory lessons. The schoolmen probably meant some such thing, by their trees of science and their categories in their logic. Indeed I have found in practice, a general map of the sciences, shewing them issuing from the same trunk and root, and from one another, and intimately connected together, of great use to open the minds of young people, to inflame their curiosity and desire of knowledge, and above all, to keep for ever in their eye the real unity of all the sciences, into whatever different tribes and classes they are divided. And it is easy to conceive how such a tree may be delineated, since from natural experience, or knowledge of the laws of the material world, immediately and naturally sprout all the mechanical arts, and from moral experience as naturally and immediately sprout all the moral arts, among which the more considerable are politics, oratory and poetry, and all these have evidently a very close reciprocal connexion and dependence.—But not to make too long a digression from our subject: The rules of oratory being founded in human nature, to develop them is certainly to unfold a considerable part of human nature: It therefore coincides with, or makes a part of moral philosophy, and ought to be taught like the other parts of it, in proportion as examples occur in history, of its power and excellence, which exemplify or point forth the dispositions of the human mind, on which it depends, or which lay a foundation for it. Accordingly Aristotle’s book on rhetoric is really a very profound treatise on the human passions, in order to shew what rules an art that would move them must observe. And of the same kind is his short art of poetry, and all the better commentaries of moderns upon it. For the principal end of poetry being to touch the heart, or to move some passion, pity or fear in particular, what hath been just now said of teaching aright the foundations of oratorical rules, must likewise hold true of poetical rules and maxims. It is impossible to teach or explain them well, without entering very deep into the contexture of the human mind, and the various turns, bearings, connexions and dependencies of our passions. But this subject also having been often very fully and well explained, we shall content ourselves with the few following observations upon it. 1. Plutarch in his excellent discourse upon hearing or reading the poets with young scholars (for that is evidently the design of his treatise, entitled, concerning hearing the poets) has some admirable observations upon the caution with which the poets ought to be read with young people, that well deserve the attention of all concerned in the education of youth. He shews that the philosopher may make a very happy use of good poetry, in teaching human nature and human duties: And that philosophers ought to make it a part of their business in the institution of youth, to point out to them the true design and the real excellency of that art. Two things which he remarks upon this subject particularly deserve our notice. In the first place, he says, that in reading the poets with young people, they ought early to be informed, why it is that poetry feigns lies, or contrives fables, and how it ought to feign or lie, namely, agreeably to nature, or with probability, and always in order to give a just view of some part of human nature, and to recommend some virtue or dissuade from some vice. He does not give the name of poets to all versifiers, but only to the writers of agreeable and useful fables in verse: And as the poet’s art chiefly consists in lying speciously or probably, in order to convey pleasantly and forcibly into the mind some useful and instructive lesson, so youth ought early to be taught and inured to consider poems as fictions copied from nature, or as imitations of nature, not taken indeed from any particular facts, but from the general laws and rules of nature. For thus they will learn to consider poems in their true light: Thus they will learn to look upon characters as pictures, and to consider whether they are well drawn or not, and so be led by characters into the examination of human nature itself, the original from which they are taken: And there will thus be no danger of their mistaking the poet, as if he intended to recommend every character he paints out to the life, or to instruct his hearers in every art of intrigue, dissimulation or cunning, for example, he describes, when his design is really no more than to exhibit such characters to view in their true light, and is indeed rather to create aversion against them, than to beget a liking to them. Another thing he observes is, that in order to lead youth to a just notion of poetry, moral poetry in particular, which imitates human life and manners (for it is that species he seems chiefly to have in view) teachers would do well to inure youth to consider poems as pictures, and for that reason, to shew them the strict natural relation or close affinity there is between these two arts, both with respect to their best, their only laudable aims, and the methods of accomplishing them. The pleasure, says he, the poet intends to give by drawing the character of any villain, or of any particular vice, is the same the painter proposes by portaiting the image of any ugly or monstrous creature, to please, to wit, by hitting of likeness, and to entertain our mind by raising our horror or loathing to a degree that does not torment. For as truth in imitation pleases as such, so likewise do all the passions, all the emotions of the mind, give pleasure by their exercises, when they are worked up by proper objects within certain bounds, especially by fiction; for an object that would create a painful horror, were it really present, excites a pleasing one, when it is but only present in effigy or semblance. We find Aristotle, in like manner, often borrowing illustrations from the art of painting in his discourse upon poetical imitation. And indeed the most successful way of giving a distinct notion of either of them, is to join them together in teaching, and to make them mutually illustrate one another.

2. It is certainly very proper in education to make use of dramatical poetry, and not only to read good comedies and tragedies with young people, but to carry them to see them well represented. It would be preposterous, as has been already observed, to think of explaining to youth the principles and rules of dramatical composition, till they had in several instances fully felt the effects of them. But having been frequently tried by good theatrical pieces, and having often experienced their pleasant and instructive influences, they will then easily understand a master, when he talks to them of their design, and represents them as imitations of human manners, and contrived for certain moral ends: They will then easily comprehend what Aristotle means by saying, the design of tragedy is to purge or refine our pity or our fear, and to work up gradually in the mind, an emotion that shall have in itself a very happy effect upon the temper: They will easily comprehend, that the rules for gaining such an end, must be fetched from human nature: And that pieces calculated to produce such effects, must be so conducted as that they shall be found, upon a critical examination, to be experiments or samples confirming some moral truths or maxims; and they will take pleasure in examining the progress of such pieces, the fable, the plot, and the unraveling, and by this exercise, they will at one and the same time, be learning human nature, and the rules resulting from thence for compositions, by which their authors would move the human heart, and agreeably agitate any of our affections: They will find such pieces to be an unanswerable proof of the sociality of the human mind, and the natural amiableness of virtue and deformity of vice; and will perceive, that such writing is not only an excellent moral school, but can indeed do more than merely teach, since by good performances of this kind, not only may very important truths relating to human nature and human affairs be demonstrated as by experiments, but by them the human mind is actually tried and exercised in such a manner, as hath immediately and directly a very salutary influence upon it.

So much for tragedy: And would a master effectually shew the ridicule of any vice, or strongly exhibit any character to his pupils, satyr and comedy, the latter more especially, are his properest instruments. None acquainted with human nature will doubt, that the best way of correcting any bad propension or habit in youth, is not directly to charge the young man with it, but to put some comedy in his hand, as it were by chance, that will shew him his fault, and the deformity and bad tendency of it in some well drawn character, as a mirror shews us the spots in our face.

3. The history of Greece will afford masters an opportunity of shewing their pupils the rise and progress of all the various species of poetry, the dramatical kind in particular. For there it was that these arts had their birth, or at least that they were brought to their perfection, and that chiefly by means of critics, who pursued a higher aim, than what in modern times assumes the name of criticism, and by laying open the truths poetical imitations ought to teach, and the salutary manners in which they ought to move our affections, and by consequence, all the springs and principles of motion in the human breast, from the workings of which these arts must derive their rules, taught poets how to model and conduct their fictions, agreeably to truth or nature, how to draw their characters and personages, in what circumstances to place them, what language to put in their mouths, conformably to their tempers and passions, and how to make them look and act, what moral ends they ought to propose to themselves, and what maxims and rules, in fine, they must observe in the whole contexture and process of their representations, to gain truly good, wholesome and praise-worthy ends. Thus was the taste of authors and auditors gradually refined and perfected.

4. Let it just be added, that there can be no objection against using Virgil, Homer, or Horace, merely for teaching the words and syntax of the languages in which they are writ, or to inure youth by reading them, to read and pronounce justly and with good grace: Yet these authors cannot be understood by boys quite unacquainted with the beauties of nature and with mankind; and therefore explaining upon them, ought to be delayed till students are by other proper studies qualified for entering into all their beauties, and all the truths they set in the most agreeable lights. But at whatever time they are read with pupils, we have a commentary upon one of them (Homer, to wit) in our own language, which shews what criticism should propose and do, and what commentators and masters ought to aim at in their lessons upon such classics: I mean Mr. Pope’s notes added to his admirable translation of Homer. He who hath read Homer with this help, so as to be able to discern all the beauties in his poems which these notes point out, will not satisfy himself with one reading, and is indeed capable of entering into the spirit of any author, or of comprehending any thing relating to human life and manners, or the design and rules of the highest kind of poetry. It could hardly be said before the English readers were obliged with this commentary on Homer, that we had any thing in any language upon any Greek or Latin authors, upon any poet at least, that answered the ends of true criticism, or that it was not really dangerous to put into the hands of youth, for fear of giving them the very worst of turns, a propension towards mere verbal criticism, which, if it be not pedantry, false erudition, empty, vain puffing up science, what can be so called?

It is indeed strange, that after all the just raillery by which men of true classical taste have exposed the ridiculousness of the pretended notes and commentaries with which ancient authors are encumbered; the vanity, impertinence and idleness, nay perniciousness to true learning and scholarship, of that which in certain countries hath long passed for polite literature, the learned world should still be pestered with, or which is worse, should still give encouragement to such dregs. For nothing certainly requires so little genius, nay, nothing so absolutely requires dullness and want of genius, as to compile large volumes under the name of notes or commentaries, like those of the celebrated Barmannus (for instance) with the help of indexes to classics, and a few dictionaries and books of mythology, without pointing out one beautiful sentiment in the authors that abound with them, or without suggesting any thing that can lead a scholar to think of learning any thing from books full of moral or political instructions, besides grammatical subtleties or various conjectural readings. Let the notes we have mentioned be compared with those upon the same author, or any other, by any of the Dutch or German commentators; and then let any one who does not prefer words, idle contentions about words, to solid and useful observations, decide who has best merited the name of a commentator, or by acquaintance with which of the two kinds, a young man is most likely to be led and formed into the best taste: Let them think which of the two kinds the original authors themselves would have preferred, or to which of them solid science is most indebted. The Casaubons, the Daciers, Gataker, and a few others, deserve praise: But yet never was there so perfect a commentary or critical survey of any author, as that of Homer by our excellent poet, or any system of notes so well adapted to initiate one into the right method of reading and considering an ancient poet: And it is indeed a pity that they are not translated into Latin, that foreign pedants might learn from that model how far their labours fall short of, nay how opposite they are to truly genuine and useful criticism. ’Tis plain from the notes this commentator has collected with so much judgment from the ancients upon his author, that he had learned the art of criticising and commenting from the best ancient critics: And we may judge of the extraordinariness of the genius he carried with him to that school, by the sublime height he hath carried almost every more useful kind of poetry in our language. Dictionary compilers, and other such collectors and explainers of words and phrases, are no doubt a useful set of labourers in the literary commonwealth: But is this a turn to be studiously given to youth, whose birth and fortunes call upon them to qualify themselves early for public service? Or is this the science, the learning that ought to be chiefly encouraged by the public, or by men in power, when it is so evident, that it is upon the promotion and cultivation of arts and sciences of a very different kind and rank, that the principal interests of the public depend; the knowledge of nature, and the knowledge of mankind and human rights and duties, and the best maxims of civil policy and government? For hence spring the arts, and hence alone can the arts spring that teach and enable nations to get wealth and power by commerce, and to employ wealth in an elegant, truly rational manner; the arts which teach subjects their rights, and magistrates their duties, and shew how a people may, and only can make themselves great and happy; how, in fine, a people may preserve, maintain, and secure that liberty without which a people are hardly men, and nothing indeed that is good, great or conspicuous in human life can subsist: For all history confirms what old Homer hath long ago sung.

So much for poetry: Let us now consider her sister arts, sculpture and painting, and the place they ought to have in education. Now, if these arts be languages by which useful truths, or agreeable ideas and sentiments may be conveyed into the mind, or may be pleasantly expressed, they are certainly worth our understanding as such, and instruction in them ought not to be neglected in truly liberal education. But that they are, will be very evident, if we consider that all these arts, painting in particular, can exhibit to us beautiful parts or effects of the visible world, of which kind are landscapes: And they can also represent moral actions and characters; and pictures of this kind are called history-pieces: And to these two classes, all paintings and sculptures may be reduced. Let us examine a little into the uses and rules of both these kinds.

In the first place, pictures exhibiting whether real views of nature, having been copied into the canvass from real appearances, or imaginary views, or such as tho’ perhaps the painter never saw, but in his own imagination, yet being congruous to nature’s laws, make beautiful as well as possible representations.—Landscapes of both these sorts are not only exceedingly entertaining to a well-formed eye and judgment, but they have a very near relation to, and are of very considerable use in natural philosophy: For they are samples or experiments of what the laws of light, shade and colours do or would produce in certain circumstances; and they are in this respect very proper for giving us a fuller idea of the nature, use and extent of these laws than we can learn from the more common course of nature, at least, without such assistance. As such pieces cannot, on the one hand, be painted without knowledge of light and shade, and of perspective, aerial perspective in particular, so it is scarcely possible to give beginners in the study of nature a just and clear notion of the manner in which nature herself paints various degrees of distances, more especially, and by means of light, shade, and various colouring, exhibites all the immense diversity that constitutes the visible world, in such a manner as to render it a steady and sure guide to our touch, feeling, and motions, as it really is, in consequence of the established connexions between appearances to our eyes and our sensations by touch;—it is hardly possible, I say, to give young beginners in philosophy a clear apprehension of this so fundamental a truth in natural philosophy, that not to mention optics merely, scarcely any branch of it can be conceived of as it ought, or is not very difficult, without a just conception of it.—This is scarcely practicable, unless the teacher calls in pictures to his assistance, and teach his pupils to attend, how it is that the figures in them appear round and solid, and stand out; or how it is, on the other hand, that they retire and fly off; how, in fine, it is, that various grounds and distances are there represented: But by comparing good landscapes with nature, this matter soon becomes easy to be understood, familiar to the mind: And thus many difficulties that before perplexed the study of optics, more particularly, immediately evanish.

Now the same relation that landscapes bear to natural philosophy, do moral or historical paintings bear to moral philosophy. Such of them as represent ancient customs and usages, civil or religious, preserve clearer ideas of these usages and manners than can possibly be conveyed by words; and are therefore of great use for understanding ancient authors: And they properly have their place in education, when descriptions of them, or references to them in history, or allusions to them in poets occur, as hath been already observed. But such as exhibit any great man doing any great or heroic action; such as represent various passions moved in spectators of different ages, tempers, conditions and countries, by any action done, or any event happening in their sight—all such pieces are exhibitions of human nature, if they be agreeable to truth, and consequently are specimens or samples from which moralists may draw many very useful remarks: And accordingly we are told, that the ancient sages at Athens, where the porticoes, temples, and all public edifices were adorned with capital pictures, representing the characters and actions of their more remarkable heroes, and the more noted events that had happened in their state, often made such pictures the subjects of their moral lessons. Socrates himself often taught in this manner. One thing is very evident: They serve admirably to preserve the memory of great men and glorious actions: And hardly will any one call this use or benefit of them into doubt, who knows how much such monuments contributed, amongst the ancient Greeks, to support and promote public spirit and true courage: For that they may be most successfully employed to reward and encourage virtue is certain, since all ancient historians agree, that the statues, pictures, and other monuments erected by the Athenians, in favour not only of the commanders, but of the common soldiers, who had signalized themselves in the defence of their country and the public liberty, conduced exceedingly to enhance the merit of their valour, and of the services they rendered to their country, and to inspire the spectators with emulation and courage, and thus to cultivate and perpetuate a spirit of bravery and public zeal in the people, and render their troops victorious and invincible. Those that were slain in the famous battle of Marathon, had all the honour immediately paid to them that was due to their merit. Illustrious monuments were raised to them all, upon which their own names and that of their tribes were recorded, in the very place where the battle was fought. There were three distinct sets of monuments separately set up, one for the Athenians, another for the Platians, and a third for the slaves, whom they had admitted among their soldiers on that occasion. All the honour that was paid to Miltiades himself, the great deliverer of Athens and of all Greece, was, that in a picture of the battle of Marathon, drawn by order of the Athenians, he was represented at the head of the ten commanders, exhorting the soldiers, and setting them an example of their duty. Now Plato often makes it his business to extol the battle of Marathon, and is for having that action considered as the source and original cause of all the victories that were gained afterwards. And indeed on all important occasions, it was customary among them to put the people in mind of the monuments erected to Miltiades, and his invincible troop, that is, of a little army of heroes, whose intrepidity and bravery had done so much honour to Athens, and this motive wonderfully quickened and animated them. The picture of Miltiades was kept at Athens, in a gallery adorned and enriched with different paintings, all excellent in their kind, and done by the greatest masters, which for that reason was called ποικιλη,89 signifying varied and diversified. The celebrated Polygnotus, a native of the island of Thusos, and one of the best painters of his time, painted this picture, or at least the greatest part of it; and as he valued himself upon his honour, and was more attached to glory than interest, he did it gratis, and would not receive any recompence for it. The city of Athens therefore rewarded him with a sort of coin, that was more acceptable to his taste, by procuring him an order from the Amphictyons to appoint him a public lodging in the city, where he might live during his own pleasure. I need not say more to prove the moral uses pictures and sculptures are very proper to serve: Those who are acquainted with the history-pieces of the best painters, are already convinced of it: And as for others, there is no way of enabling them to conceive the power of pictures, to represent characters and actions, and thereby move the affections of spectators in a very beneficial and agreeable manner, but by presenting good pieces of the moral kind to them. Besides, I have elsewhere treated on this subject expresly at great length;90 where I have shewed what good taste of painting means, and how it may be acquired; and wherein it differs from the mere virtuosoship that no less generally passes for good taste in painting, than mere verbal skill does for good taste in classical literature.

But in order to understand and relish painting, tho’ much more be necessary than knowledge of drawing, even skill in human nature, and in the unity and truth of ordinance and disposition in imitating any action, in order to make a pleasing and beautiful consistent whole, yet intelligence in drawing is absolutely requisite. And indeed that skill is of such universal use in all the businesses and arts of life, that it certainly should, as Aristotle has recommended, and as it did amongst the Greeks, make an early part in the education of all sorts and ranks of people: In forming young gentlemen after they are taught to write, they should be taught to draw: For it is by such instruction, and by frequent practice in examining good pictures and drawings, or good prints of them, that the eye is formed to a just understanding and relish of proportion, harmony and beauty, in buildings, pictures, and all works of design. And why should not both the ear and the eye be improved in education by proper exercises, till they are become truly intelligent, skilful, delicate and just? Hath nature given us eyes or ears capable of improvement, without intending that we should be at proper pains to teach, instruct, form or improve them? Nature hath given eyes and ears to all animals, but to man nature hath not given mere common eyes and ears, but hath joined with these senses in us, as Cicero hath observed, a relish or taste of harmony and proportion, by means of which they are capable of being qualified for enjoyments far above all the pleasures the gross senses of other animals can afford to them, for enjoyments truly rational and elegant. And are such excellent gifts of nature to be quite despised and neglected? to be quite overlooked in education, or are such valuable faculties to have no culture, no instruction bestowed upon them? Young gentlemen, who have higher business to mind, which requires much time and application, ought neither to throw away their precious time in learning to paint, nor to play upon musical instruments; but they ought to have their eyes so formed, by a little practice in drawing, and instruction in the principles of the art, as to be able to judge of and relish truth and proportion in drawing, and their ears so improved by instruction in the principles of music, and accustomance to music, as that they may be able to receive pleasure from sentiments well expressed, and set to proper music, when well performed by voices, accompanied with instruments: For music certainly is one of the best relaxations from severer studies and employments, when employed to excite wholesome affections, and not to inflame hurtful ones, and when good sentiments as well as sounds are conveyed. And accordingly in ancient education both these arts had early their proper share. In truth, what in one sense is called improving the eye and the ear, is more strictly and properly speaking, improving and forming the imagination. And surely none will say that education ought to leave this faculty quite uncultivated: None will say, that it is of no consequence whether youth are formed or not by proper care, to a just notion of the pleasures of imagination, and of the arts, by consequence, which have the entertainment of a well-formed imagination for their object and scope. If any one can make a question of this, let him read, for his better information, the admirable essays of Mr. Addison, in the sixth volume of the spectator, upon the pleasures and arts of imagination.91 And there he will see, that the whole of what belongs to the discipline, improvement or culture of the imagination, is reducible into what may simply be called a just notion of truth, proportion and harmony, and is nearly allied to virtue: For a fine correct imagination is a fancy able to entertain itself with true and just images of beautiful or great objects, or able to draw to itself fine pictures worthy of contemplation, as well as to comprehend and relish good images or pictures, when set before it by an Author of taste, or an intelligent artist. Solidity is, properly speaking, a quality of the judgment; and good taste or genius, properly so called, is a quality of the imagination. The excellency or perfection of reason and judgment consists in distinguishing differences amidst resemblances, the discovery of which requires very close and accurate inspection into objects, and in discerning just and strict reasoning, in which every step naturally leads to that which follows, and the whole of which makes one closely connected chain from artful specious sophistry; or lastly, in accurately weighing and balancing probabilities, without missing or overlooking the minutest circumstance belonging to either side of the question: These are the principal offices and exercises of judgment: And in being able to perform these well, does its strength and virtue principally lie. On the other hand, the excellency and perfection of imagination consists in being quick and ready in finding out likenesses or analogies; and with regard to this faculty, the rule is, That as resemblances, when pointed out, please the more, the less they were expected, if they be true, and can abide examination; so it is by hitting of uncommon likenesses in such a manner, that all to whom they are discovered, wonder that such resemblances were never observed before that genius appears, or wit most shines, and best shews at once its fertility and correctness: Accordingly, the chief businesses of imagination are to bring ideas seemingly very remote from a subject, which dart an agreeable but surprizing uncommon light upon it; to be able to cloath intellectual or moral ideas with proper material forms and dresses; and to know how to bedeck or attire every truth in the garb most suited to it and best becoming it, or that sets it off to the best advantage. There are therefore two chief species of it; one which is dextrous in pointing out beauties; and another which excels in shewing the ridicule of follies and errors, or of vices and falshoods. These two talents seldom meet in the same person, being opposite turns of mind; yet to both belong a happy fertility in inventing metaphors and similitudes, and a just discernment or taste of their propriety and fitness. These are the natural instruments or weapons of wit in every kind of it. Now, as it will readily be owned to be the proper work of education to ripen, strengthen, and improve the judgment; so that, next to this, due care to enrich and correct imagination and taste, is the other main business of education, cannot be denied, whether we consider of what consequence it is with regard to private happiness to possess an imagination capable of entertaining itself in a variety of agreeable manners, all of them able to stand the test and trial of reason in every respect, instead of a dull, lifeless, insipid, or which is worse, a loose, impure, rambling and undisciplin’d one: Or whether we consider ourselves as social creatures, made for conversation and mutual commerce, and consequently, for reciprocally instructing and entertaining one another, by imparting our ideas, sentiments and knowledge to one another, in pleasing and agreeable lights? By the exercises and improvements of the intellect, one may become profoundly knowing; but if he be a stranger to the arts and exercises by which imagination is enriched and refined, he cannot communicate his science to others in a winning, agreeable way, because he will be unable to dress his sentiments and set them out as they ought to be, to attract attention and gain admittance, into polite company, more especially: He may indeed be useful to profound scholars, but he is not qualified for informing the ignorant, or alluring youth to the love of true wisdom. Besides, there is false wit as well as false reasoning; and is it not of consequence, to render youth capable of distinguishing false from true wit, and thus to fortify and guard them against all the deceitful arts of error or vice? To conclude, by plain, naked or simple reasoning, the understanding may be enlightened and convinced: But it is through the imagination only, that truth can find a passage into the heart, to move and interest our affections. For how else is it that oratory or poetry are able to agitate our minds, and lead our passions captive at their will, but by raising up in the imagination, warm, lively, moving pictures? The fancy is first not only struck but heated and briskly agitated, before any of our violent passions are inflamed? And in order to produce the soft and tender affections the same fancy must first be soothed and softened. If therefore we would qualify youth either on the one hand, for being suitably entertained and affected by just and proper addresses to their imaginations, and through it to their passionate part; or guard them, on the other, against all base, all misleading and corruptive impressions; in one word, if we would qualify them for relishing the beauties of poets or orators, it is of the greatest moment to bestow proper culture and improvement upon their imagination or fancy; a wonderfully active, busy and rich faculty, without which human life would indeed be very listless and insipid, in comparison of what its improvements render it; tho’ on the other side, to its irregularities and extravagancies be owing a very considerable part of the vices and miseries of mankind. In truth, they must be great strangers to human nature, who know not of what moment it is to have a chaste well-regulated imagination formed to the love of order and proportion, and interested in favour of virtue, which is order in the affections, producing similar order and consistency in outward conduct: For if the fancy be not under due discipline, and hath not been taught to exert and entertain itself with true beauty and harmony, it will be tumultuous and irregular, and be ever rebelling against reason, and pursuing some equally false and pernicious species of beauty: The fancy cannot be without a Venus: “It will always be courting, says an excellent writer, a beauty, and pursuing a Venus of one kind or another. The species of fair, noble, handsome, great, will discover itself on a thousand occasions, and on a thousand subjects. The spectre still will haunt us in some shape or other; and when driven from our cool thoughts, and frighted from the closet, will meet us even at court, and fill our heads with dreams of grandeur, titles, honours, and a false magnificence to which we are ready to sacrifice our greatest pleasure and ease, and for the sake of which we become the meanest drudges and most abject slaves.” Now how alone can the fancy be kept from false or pernicious pursuits; how alone can it be secured against error, deceit, or imposition of whatever sort, but by early giving it a right taste of the true venustum or honestum, and a strong propensity towards it, and the ideas of beauty, order and greatness, which are not only consistent with virtue, but assistant to and corroborative of it: A true taste of wit and ingenuity; a sound relish of order and decorum in ingenious compositions of every kind, or in all works of fancy; and that quick discernment of proportion, even in material objects, without which our senses of hearing and seeing are equally gross with those organs in the lowest kind of animals, and far from being improved and exalted to that superior pitch of perfection for which nature certainly intended them, by uniting with them in our contexture a sense of natural order, beauty and harmony, so nearly allied to our moral sense, that the one cannot reside where the other is not in some degree prevalent; and that he who hath a just notion of beauty and harmony of the first sort, if he be dissolute and irregular in his heart and manners, must live in downright contradiction to the principles from which he professes to derive his favourite entertainments. The truth of this will more fully appear from the following observation, which is the only maxim I shall at present mention with regard to teaching good taste in poetry, and in all the arts of design and fancy conjointly, having elsewhere discoursed very fully upon this subject. It is, that the main thing in instructing youth in the principles, foundations, and maxims of the polite arts, is to engage their attention to this sovereign, universal rule in nature, from which the imitative arts can never depart, without falling proportionably short of the harmony and truth which is their aim, and by which alone they can please, viz. “That what is beautiful is harmonious and proportioned, what is harmonious and proportioned is true, and what is at once both beautiful and true is of consequence agreeable and good.” In other words, “Beauty, truth and utility are inseparably connected, or more properly speaking, are one and the same in nature, and therefore they cannot be disjoined in the arts which profess to imitate nature.” Accordingly, beauty and truth are plainly joined with the notion of ability and conveniency in the apprehension of every ingenious artist; the statuary, the painter, the architect, the gardner: they do and know they must conform to this rule, because it is universally so throughout all nature. The same features which occasion deformity, create sickness and disease. The proportionate and regular state is the truly prosperous, sound and natural one in every subject. Health of the body is the just proportion, balance, and regular course of things in the constitution. And what else is health or soundness of mind, but harmony, or a just and equal balance of the affections? Or what else is it that produces deformity of the moral kind, but something that tends to the ruin and dissolution of the mental fabric? And in every ingenious art or composition, what is not useful, and strictly related to the whole, can never be beautiful: Ornaments which do not naturally rise out of the subject, and have not a due reference and subordination to the principal design, are not only superfluous and an incumbrance, but they are really noxious and hurtful with regard to the proposed end or effect of the whole, into which they are forced.

The Roman architect Vitruvius makes this observation with regard to all the arts, and applies it to his own, in particular, with great propriety and strength of reasoning. Quintilian has explained the same maxim, and unfolded its extent in a great variety of instances with his usual elegance: He thus concisely expresses the rule itself: “Nunquam veri species ab utilitate dividitur.”92 Cicero, whom he every where follows, had charmingly confirmed this truth long before in several beautiful passages of his writings on oratory: For he extends the rule to that art also, and lays it down as an essential one in it. One passage in particular, Orator. l. 3. c. 45, &c.93 is well worth pointing out to the reader.—“Sed in plerisque rebus incredibiliter hoc natura est ipsa fabricata: Sic in oratione, ut ea, quae maximam utilitatem in se continerent, eadem haberent plurimum vel dignitatis, vel saepe etiam venustatis. Incolumitatis, ac salutis omnium causa, videmus hunc statum esse hujus totius mundi atque naturae.—Haec tantam habent vim ut paulum immutata cohaerere non possint: Tantam pulchritudinem, ut nulla species ne excogitari quidem possit ornatior. Referte nunc animum ad hominum vel etiam caeterarum animantium formam & figuram. Nullam partem corporis sine aliqua necessitate affictam, totamque formam quasi perfectam reperietis arte non casu. Quid in arboribus, in quibus non truncus, non rami, non folia sunt denique, nisi ad suam retinendam, conservandamque naturam? Nusquam tamen est ulla pars nisi venusta.—Linquamus naturam, artesque videamus. Quid tam in navigio necessarium quam latera, quam carinae, quam mali, quam vela, quam prora, quam puppis, quam antennae? Quae tamen hanc habent in specie venustatem; ut non solum salutis, sed etiam voluptatis causa inventa esse videantur. Columnae, & templa, & porticus sustinent. Tamen habent non plus utilitatis quam dignitatis. Capitolii fastigium illud, & caeterarum aedium, non venustas sed necessitas ipsa fabricata est. Nam cum esset habita ratio, quemadmodum, ex utraque tecti parte aqua dilaberetur: Utilitatem templi fastigii dignitas consecuta est: Ut etiam si in coelo statueretur, ubi imber esse non possit nullam sine fastigio dignitatem habituram fuisse videatur. Hoc in omnibus item partibus, orationis evenit, ut utilitatem ac prope necessitatem suavitas quaedam ac lepos consequatur.” Compare the whole with what he says to the same purpose, Orator. c. 25. and concerning our senses, as they are distinguished from those of the brutes, by our natural sense of beauty and harmony, which is united with them, de natura Deorum, lib. 2. c. 58, &c. For these passages furnish the proper materials for explaining the first principles and chief rules of all the ingenious arts. The chief excellence in them all is simplicity or frugality, and is therefore often called by ancient critics αφελεια:94 For the arts which imitate nature must conform to her; and her beauty in all her works results from her simplicity, or her steady observance of this rule: “Natura nil frustra facit”:95 Arts, in order to be natural, and please as such, must be frugal and reserved as nature; like her, never profuse to any particular part, but bountiful to all in due proportion; never employing in one thing more than enough, but with exact oeconomy retrenching the superfluous, and adding force to what is principal in every thing, and thus managing all for the best. This is nature’s method throughout all her infinitely various operations: And therefore the rule in imitating her, in whatever composition, is,

We have said enough of poetry and oratory: And to form the eye and judgment to a just notion of drawing and proportion, nothing more is necessary than practice in drawing, and accustoming the eye to good drawings: And if we would form a just taste of painting, let youth be often assisted in attending to the disposition, ordonance and unity of pictures, and examining well composed ones, or good prints of them, by these and the like questions. “Is the subject worthy of being represented, and doth the representation excite a lively and just idea of it? To what end is the composition adapted, and what effect hath it upon the minds of attentive observers? Doth it fully fill and employ the mind? Have all the parts a just relation to the principal design? Or is the sight splitted, divided and perplexed by parts either not essential, or not duly subordinated to the whole? Is the colouring proper to the subject and design; and is it of a proportional consistent character throughout the whole, to that of the principal figure? Doth the same genius and spirit reign throughout all the work? Is there a sufficient and well chosen variety of contrasts? Is there too little or too much expressed? Of whatever kind it is, landscape or historical, doth it make a beautiful or a great whole? Is it a true and compatible choice of nature? Is there nothing repugnant to nature’s laws and proportions? And above all, what influence hath it upon the mind? Doth it instil or call up great, uncommon, beautiful, or delightful ideas? Doth it light up the understanding, spread the imagination, and set the mind a thinking? Doth it shew a fine taste of nature, an exalted idea of beauty and grace, and raise the soul to the conception and love of what is truly great, beautiful and decent in nature and in arts?”

By these and such like questions, ought pictures as well as poems to be tried and criticised. And such an examination of either is a truly philosophical employment. There is indeed a false learning or taste with regard to the plastic arts, corresponding to pedantry, verbal criticism, or false taste in classical learning, which is entirely occupied and taken up about names, and hands, and rarity or antiquity, without ever considering the meaning and design of pictures, or their contrivance and ordonance: But the best security against both is to teach and inure pupils to examine both poems and pictures, compositions, in fine, of all kinds, with a philosophical eye, and to seek first and above all, for sense, judgment and truth in them. This false taste is excellently described and chastised in an admirable Canto in imitation of Spencer, from which give me leave just to copy these lines.

I shall just observe, before I quit this subject, that because the arts of design have been sadly perverted and abused to the worst of purposes, they have therefore been confounded with luxury, and misrepresented as rather pernicious than useful, or even ornamental to states. But according to this argument, must not poetry likewise be banished: For what hath been more abused and prostituted than the magic of numbers? According to this argument, what ought not to be called luxury? For hath not, not only wit, but philosophy, and even religion itself, been rendered by abuse exceeding mischievous, exceeding corruptive of honesty and good morals? At what, in fine, that is good or great does not this argument from the abuse of things strike as strongly as at the ingenious arts? In the times when oratory and poetry were at their highest perfection, painting and sculpture were also in their greatest glory: All the arts mutually lent aids, and charms and graces one to another.

These arts are dragged into the service of vice with no less reluctance than Homer beautifully describes poetry to yield to any vile prostitution of her powers and graces.

’Tis to virtue and truth alone they willingly impart their ornaments and charms. Indeed all the nobler ends and uses of poetry described by Theocritus in his delightful idyllion, Αιεὶ τουτο Διὸς κουράις,100 &c. or by Horace in his sublime ode in praise of poesy, Donarem pateras, &c. are likewise the ends and uses in which her sister arts most delight, and best shew their genuine force and beauty.

They are thus described by an admirable poet with great spirit and taste.

In poor and indigent states, forced to toil and drudge for the necessaries of life, there is neither leisure nor spirit for cultivating ingenious, ornamental sciences and arts: It is only in opulent countries that men will think of applying themselves to what is not absolutely requisite to their convenient subsistence. Yet such, on the other hand, is the ordinary course of human affairs, that a people no sooner become rich, than they become wanton and sensual: Necessity begets industry, but so soon as industry has brought wealth into a nation, affluence and ease beget impatience of discipline and dissoluteness of manners, that quickly corrupt not only all the ingenious arts, but even philosophy itself: So true is this, that in no country where the polite arts have at any time flourished, did they ever begin to decline from their perfection, and to be prostituted to wicked uses, till philosophy itself had sadly degenerated into a very loose and profligate doctrine, unworthy of that sacred name; which signifies just ideas of the government of the world, and of good conduct in life, in conformity to the character and will of the supreme parent of all things: This was the case both at Athens and at Rome. In the former republic, all the arts declined in proportion as false philosophy and corruption of manners gained ground: When their ancient virtue was gone, the spirit of tragedy went with it, and all the other arts soon gave way to shew, farce, effeminate music, or lascivious mimic-dances, horse-races, and such like trifling gaudy entertainments. In the latter, venality, luxury and voluptuousness were come to a very great height, before the polite arts were known in it; and for that reason, they never came to any considerable degree of perfection there: All the polite arts, according to the history of that state, after they had once been introduced into it, revived or faded, as liberty and virtue lift up their heads, prospered or declined. Under the wicked tyrants, after the dissolution of the commonwealth, whatever sumptuous works were carried on that are justly called by the best historians, “Ostentatio stultissima regum”: and on account of which the taste of these princes is not celebrated, but they are set forth in their true light, as “incredibilium cupitores,” (so Tacitus speaks of Nero in particular) true taste sadly degenerated.102 But under another race of good ones, it rose, as it were from the dead, and made considerable progress. Tho’ the polite arts may, and often have been made in corrupt times incentives, panders to vice; yet they in fact have always soon evanished and disappeared, after they begun to be perverted to ends repugnant to their genius, and natural tendency and scope. This is the remark of one of the best ancient critics, who thus reasons the matter. “Quis inter haec literis, aut ullae bonae arti locus? non Hercule magis quam frugibus in terra sentibus ac rubis occupata. Age. Non ad perferendos studiorum labores necessaria frugalitas? Quid ergo ex libidine ac luxuria spei? Nam praecipue acuit ad cupiditatem literarum amor laudis. Num igitur malis esse laudem curae putamus?”103

Carthage, sure, was not ruined by the prevalency of arts, absolutely unknown in that rich state: Nor could the arts which were totally excluded from Sparta by its constitution have had any hand in its fall. The latter, as well as the former, fell a sacrifice to the lust of power and avarice, as the famous Pythian oracle is said to have foretold concerning Sparta. Cicero’s remark upon this subject deserves to be mentioned. “Nullum vitium tetrius quam avaritia, praesertim in principibus & rempublicam gubernantibus. Habere enim quaestui rempublicam non modo turpe est, sed sceleratum etiam & nefarium. Itaque quod Apollo Pythius oraculo edidit, Spartam nulla alia re nisi avaritia perituram, id videtur non solum, Lacedaemoniis sed & omnibus opulentis populis praedixisse.”104 The Persian empire perished, as both historians and philosophers have observed, through the bad education of their princes, and the gross voluptuousness which soon spread itself over the whole body, after the union of the Persians with the soft Medes, and the vast conquests of Cyrus, who was indeed an awful instance of the truth of an ancient observation which a Latin historian thus expresses: “Secundae res sapientium animos fatigant.”105

A private man may throw away too much of his time, as well as of his fortune, upon pictures, statues and coins, through a disproportioned admiration of these arts, which generally is not an intelligent one. But if any one should object, for this reason, against giving proper encouragement to the ingenious arts in a state, Horace furnishes us with the topic for a very proper answer.

The character to be recommended to the imitation of youth, in order to guard them against this folly, is that of Atticus in Nepos. “Elegans non magnificus, splendidus non sumptuosus, omni diligentia munditiam non affluentem affectabat. Supellex non modica, non multa, ut in neutram partem conspici possit.”107 Here elegance is well distinguished from luxury. And indeed so true is it, that good taste and true art were never able to subsist long, after affectation of magnificence and expence had spread from courts, corrupted with a false opinion of pomp and splendour, like a contagion over the land, that it quickly happens, every where in such cases, as Pliny the elder tells us it happened a little before his time in the Roman empire, viz. “That in statuary, painting, and architecture, nothing is admired but what is sumptuous and costly in the mere materials of the work. Precious metals, glittering stones, every thing that is merely shewy and glaring and poisonous to art, comes every day more into request, and are imposed upon masters as necessary materials to the ruin of good taste.” Indeed, as our own poet happily expresses it,

A Pericles may have expended in superfluous buildings, and vain decorations, the treasury that was destined for carrying on a war in the defence of the common liberty of Greece: And Plato, who formed a judgment of things, not from outward splendour, but from truth, after his master Socrates, may have had reason to say of him, that with all his grand edifices and other works, he had not improved the mind of one of the citizens in virtue, but had rather corrupted the purity and simplicity of their ancient manners. A Verres may, without any taste or intelligence of the ingenious arts, have plundered and robbed cities and provinces, to adorn his own palace with pictures, statues, and antique vases. But still it will not follow from these or any other such examples, that a very proper use may not be made of these arts for promoting true virtue; or that monuments perpetuating the memory of great men, by just representations of their noble deeds, are not very becoming decorations for courts of justice, assemblies of the public states, colleges, schools, and all other public edifices, or that there is not an elegant way of laying out wealth, which is very opposite to gross voluptuousness, and indeed the best preservative against it: For order and proportion in buildings and gardens, and monuments that shew judgment, and have a virtuous meaning and tendency, are certainly the very reverse of tasteless waste, mere glare, idle unmeaning expence, and coarse sensuality; or reason, virtue, taste and judgment are empty names. The best things may be perverted; but surely the securest barrier against bad taste or corruption of any kind, is to form early, by proper education in young minds, a just sense of the excellency of virtue, and a thorough good taste of all the arts that may be rendered subservient to it, or from which men of easy fortunes may fetch amusements to themselves, without making one step towards vice; and an aversion from every abuse of them. And in order to gain this purpose, education must unite the ingenious arts and liberal exercises with philosophy, and by proper examples, teach her pupils what is beautiful in nature, or whence the beauty of nature proceeds; what is orderly and decent in the conduct of life; what produces and supports public order and happiness; and what is beautiful, elegant and decent in arts. Now all the parts of this lesson are strictly coherent: They cannot be severed without sadly maiming the true philoso phy, and strangely stinting and confining young understandings, instead of expanding and enlarging them. For indeed, as Plato long ago observed, all the liberal arts and sciences which have any connexion with human affairs, or tendency to humanize the mind, have a strict and intimate affinity, and are bound together by a very close common bond, or natural relation.

conclusion

Concerning Travelling

Every more important question relative to liberal education, hath (I think) been handled in this enquiry at great length; some questions, indeed, too minutely and particularly, were this treatise designed merely for such as only want hints. All therefore that remains to be treated of is travelling: And this indeed is a copious and important subject, that well deserves to be fully considered, and would require a volume by itself: We shall only suggest here a few observations upon it, which are indeed very obvious, but yet very little attended to in practice.

’Tis very plain that youth cannot be qualified for taking any advantageous notices of the state of learning in foreign countries, unless they be already very well acquainted with the chief branches of true learning, or the more useful sciences.

’Tis equally manifest, that without acquaintance with agriculture, manufactures and mechanical arts, they cannot be capable of making any useful observations for the benefit of their country upon these very important matters: And the same is likewise true with regard to commerce or trade.

’Tis no less evident, that they are not prepared for considering with intelligence the governments of foreign countries, their customs, manners, and maxims of policy, and the effects of different civil constitutions upon their respective subjects, till they have been considerably practised in reading history, and making political reflections: Unless they are well instructed in the nature of civil government in general, and the ends which laws and political orders ought to propose, they can no more profit by visiting foreign states than one unacquainted with the principles of mechanism, can by seeing engines and machines.

’Tis fully as conspicuous, that raw unexperienced youth are not qualified for gathering information from the conversation of knowing men, or for seeing into men’s characters and dispositions.

And to conclude, without knowing the state of one’s own country, none can judge how other nations stand related to it, or wherein their interests agree or jar and differ: Now it will readily be owned to be very dangerous to send youth, for the sake whether of languages or exercises, abroad to receive their first tincture, their first impressions and habits.—From these considerations therefore it is obvious, who alone are qualified for travelling to any good purpose, however promiscuously and indiscriminately all our young people of birth and fortune may be sent to travel about seventeen or eighteen years of age:—and what preparation, what qualifications are necessary for travelling? The false, the very pernicious taste our young travellers into France and Italy too often bring back with them, is strongly painted out, and very justly satyrized in a beautiful canto in imitation of Spencer, which travellers into these parts ought indeed to carry along with them, as a preservative against the infection they are there so liable to be tainted with. As to a proper directory for travellers, I know of none: some such thing beginning with reflections upon our own government, and the interest of our own country, and pointing out the ends which travellers ought principally to have in their view, with proper instructions in the different manners, customs and governments of the foreign countries our travellers more generally visit, is greatly wanting. But from Homer’s Odyssey a young man may learn what should chiefly be attended to by those who would learn the knowledge of men; for Homer certainly intended to give us the character of a wise traveller, a sagacious inspector into men and things, escaping many snares and temptations, and guiding himself through various dangers by his prudence and virtue, and improving in true wisdom by every incident in the person of Ulysses, as Horace twice tells us.

And again,

After one hath well digested Xenophon’s Cyropoedeia, a careful reading of one of the best of modern books, Telemachus’s adventures, will likewise be of great advantage; and to these the travels of Cyrus deserve to be added. But besides these, it will be proper, after acquainting themselves with the history, natural and moral, of the country they design to travel into, to read some books of travels, in which not merely buildings, pictures, or antiquities are described, tho’ these should by no means be totally neglected, but the policy, the commerce, the religion, the manners of these nations or states are laid open: Such as Lord Molesworth’s account of Denmark, Sir William Temple’s account of the Netherlands, Busbequii epistolae, and several other such treatises, wrote by men capable of taking large and just views of men and things, and versed in public affairs. Above all, our travellers ought to begin at home, and be initiated, by the assistance of a qualified guide, in a journey through their own country, into the truly useful way of travelling. And they ought to lay themselves out to get all the information they can about the countries they propose to see, by frequenting the conversation of those who have travelled into them, and made useful observations. In fine, we may safely venture to say, that till one is well acquainted with geography, ancient and modern, hath pleasure in reading history, and can draw solid instructions from it, and hath withal been accustomed to truly manly and useful conversation, he is not at all fitted for improvement by travelling: But if this be the case, then it is very evident what one must do to prepare and qualify himself for travel. On this subject, however, we did not propose to enter; and therefore we shall only add, that the education here delineated, is the proper one to prepare for travelling, and that travelling would indeed render it perfect.

F I N I S.

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[10. ]James Barclay, A Treatise on Education (Edinburgh: James Cochran, 1743), 217–18. George Chapman, A Treatise on Education, 4th ed. (London, 1790), appendix.

[11. ]Franklin identified the authors he consulted while writing the Proposals as Milton, Locke, Hutcheson, Obadiah Walker, Rollin, and George Turnbull, in that order. Franklin actually mistook David Fordyce for Francis Hutcheson. See Benjamin Franklin, Writings (New York: Library of America, 1987), 323–44.

[1. ][Horace, Epistles, 1.2.17–23: “Again, of the power of worth and wisdom he has set before us an instructive pattern in Ulysses, that tamer of Troy, who looked with discerning eyes upon the cities and manners of many men, and while for self and comrades he strove for a return across the broad seas, many hardships he endured, but could never be o’erwhelmed in the waves of adversity. You know the Sirens’ songs and Circe’s cups.”]

[2. ][Persius, Satires, 3.66–74: “Come and learn, O miserable souls, and be instructed in the causes of things: learn what we are, and for what sort of lives we were born; what place was assigned to us at the start; how to round the turning-post gently, and from what point to begin the turn; what limit should be placed on wealth; what prayers may be rightfully offered; what good there is in fresh-minted coin; how much should be spent on country and on your dear kin; what part God has ordered you to play, and at what point of the human commonwealth you have been stationed. Learn, I say, and do not grudge the trouble because your neighbour has many a jar going bad” (Loeb translation by G. G. Ramsay).]

[3. ][Persius, Satires, 5.34–42: “at an age when the path of life is doubtful, and wanderings, ignorant of life, parted my trembling soul into the branching crossways—I placed myself into your hands, Cornutus; you took up my tender years in your Socratic bosom. Your rule, applied with unseen skill, straightened out the crooked morals; my soul, struggling to be mastered, was moulded by your reason, and took on features under your plastic thumb. With you, I remember, did I pass long days, with you.”]

[4. ][Horace, Odes, 4.9.30–52: “Not thee, O Lollius, will I leave unsung, unhonoured by my verse; nor will I suffer envious forgetfulness to prey undisturbed upon thy many exploits. A mind thou hast, experienced in affairs, well-poised in weal or woe, punishing greed, fraud, holding aloof from money that draws all things to itself, thou a consul not of a single year, but so oft as, a judge righteous and true, thou preferrest honour to expediency, rejectest with high disdain the bribes of guilty men, and bearest thine arms victorious through opposing hosts. Not him who possesses much, would one rightly call the happy man; he more fitly gains that name who knows how to use with wisdom the blessings of the gods, to endure hard poverty, and who fears dishonour worse than death, not afraid to die for cherished friends or fatherland.”]

[5. ][Horace, Ars Poetica, 312–15: “He who has learned what he owes his country and his friends, what love is due a parent, a brother, and a guest, what is imposed on senator and judge, what is the function of a general sent to war” (Loeb translation by H. Rushton Fairclough).]

[6. ][Horace, Satires, 1.4.105–12: “’Tis a habit the best of fathers taught me, for, to enable me to steer clear of follies, he would brand them, one by one, by his examples. Whenever he would encourage me to live thriftily, frugally, and content with what he had saved for me, ‘Do you not see,’ he would say, ‘how badly fares young Albius, and how poor is Baius? A striking lesson not to waste one’s patrimony!’ When he would deter me from a vulgar amour, ‘Don’t be like Scetanus’ ” (Loeb translation by H. Rushton Fairclough).]

[7. ][Horace, Satires, 1.4.133–36: “for when my couch welcomes me or I stroll in the colonnade, I do not fail myself: ‘This is the better course: if I do that, I shall fare more happily: thus I shall delight the friends I meet.’”]

[8. ]Plato’s Phaedon.

[9. ][Anthony, Third Earl of Shaftesbury, Characteristicks of Men, Manners, Opinions, Times, foreword by Douglas Den Uyl (Indianapolis: Liberty Fund, 2001), 1:177–87.

[10. ][Horace, Epistles, 1.1.34–36: “Are you swelling with ambition? There are fixed charms. … There are spells and sayings whereby you may soothe the pain and cast much of the malady aside.” (Turnbull has altered the order of the lines. His version runs line 36, line 34, line 35.)]

[11. ][Cicero, Tusculan Disputations, 5.2.5: “O vitae philosophia dux, o virtutis indagatrix expultrixque vitiorum!” “O philosophy, thou guide of life, o thou explorer of virtue and expeller of vice!” (Loeb translation by J. E. King).]

[12. ][Cicero, Tusculan Disputations, 5.2.5: “thou hast discovered law, thou hast been the teachers of morality and order. … Moreover one day well spent and in accordance with thy lessons is to be preferred to an eternity of error.”]

[13. ]In the discourses intitled, Plutarchus Plasmatias, &c.

[14. ][John Locke, Some Thoughts Concerning Education, §§34–37.]

[15. ][Locke, Education, §§38–44.]

[16. ][Locke, Education, §§52–62.]

[17. ][Locke, Education, §66.]

[18. ][Matthew 13:3–9.]

[19. ][Pliny, Letters, 3.3.]

[20. ][Pliny, Letters, 1.10.]

[21. ][Conyers Middleton, The History of the Life of Marcus Tullius Cicero, 3rd ed., 3 vols. (London: W. Innys, R. Manby, 1742), 1:8–11.]

[22. ]That this was the general practice and care in the best times of that republic, we learn from Cicero in his Brutus, and elsewhere, from Quintilian, and the author of the dialogue de causis corruptae eloq. attributed by some to Tacitus, and many other ancient writers.

[23. ]This is the more probable that he manifestly sneers at a prevailing superstitious regard to the number three in the following lines.

[24. ][See note 10 in Part III, above.]

[25. ][Horace, Epistles, 1.1.38–40: “The slave to envy, anger, sloth, wine, lewdness—no one is so savage that he cannot be tamed, if only he lend to treatment a patient ear.”]

[26. ][Locke, Education, §115.]

[27. ][Locke, Education, §§123–27.]

[28. ][Locke, Education, §168, §167.]

[29. ][Horace, Odes, 3.8.5: “you versed in the lore of either tongue!”]

[30. ][Cicero, De Officiis, 1.1: “just as I for my own improvement have always combined Greek and Latin studies—and I have done this not only in the study of philosophy but also in the practice of oratory—so I recommend that you should do the same, so that you may have equal command of both languages” (Loeb translation by Walter Miller).]

[31. ][Charles Rollin, De la manière d’énseigner et d’étudier les belles-lettres, Par raport à l’esprit & au coeur, 2 tomes (Paris: Estienne, 1740), 2:520–73.]

[32. ][Horace, Odes, 3.24.35–36: “Of what avail are empty laws, if we lack principle?”]

[33. ][Quintilian, Institutio Oratoria, 1.3.12: “For once a bad habit has become engrained, it is easier to break than bend.”]

[34. ]Quintilian l. 2. c. 8. Cicero l. 3. de orator. n. 36.

[35. ][Virgil, Georgics, 2.272: “So strong is habit in tender years” (Loeb translation by H. Rushton Fairclough, revised by G. P. Goold). Quoted in Quintilian, Institutio Oratoria, 1.3.13.]

[36. ][Quintilian, Institutio Oratoria, 2.2.1–8.]

[37. ][Horace, Epistles, 2.1.70–71.]

[38. ][See note 36 in Part III, above.]

[39. ][Virgil, The Aeneid, 4.293–94: “temtaturam aditus et, quae mollissima fandi tempora, quis rebus dexter modus” (“will essay an approach and seek the happiest season for speech, the plan auspicious for his purpose”) (Loeb translation by H. Rushton Fairclough, revised by G. P. Goold).]

[40. ][François de Fénelon, De l’Education des Filles, ch. 5.]

[41. ][Seneca, Epistulae Morales, 95.36: “minds which seize quickly upon virtue” (Loeb translation by Richard M. Gummere).]

[42. ][Cornelius Nepos, 15.3.2.]

[43. ][Seneca, Epistulae Morales, 108.12–14.]

[44. ][Seneca, Epistulae Morales, 6.5.]

[45. ][Quintilian, Institutio Oratoria, 1.3.9–10.]

[46. ][Quintilian, Institutio Oratoria, 1.3.8.]

[47. ][John Milton, Of Education, in Complete Prose Works of John Milton (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1959), 2:402–3.]

[48. ][Locke, Education, §§188–89.]

[49. ][Conyers Middleton, Life of Cicero, 1:12–19, 21, 27–29, 36–37, 43–44, 46–49.]

[50. ][Pliny, Letters, 7.9.]

[51. ]I copy this letter from the English translation of Pliny’s letters by several hands.

[52. ]De Repub. l. 3. [Plato, The Republic, book 3.]

[53. ][Locke, Education, §93.]

[54. ][Turnbull is paraphrasing Locke, Education, §143.]

[55. ][Quintilian, Institutio Oratoria, 1.11.19.]

[56. ][Tibullus, 3.8.7–14: “Whatsoever she does, whithersoever she turns her steps, Grace follows her unseen to order all aright. Hath she loosed her hair? Then flowing locks become her. Hath she dressed it? With dressed hair she is divine. She fires the heart if she chooses to appear in gown of Tyrian hue; she fires it if she comes in the sheen of snowy robes. Like her, on everlasting Olympus, bounteous Vertumnus wears a thousand garbs, and wears with grace the thousand” (Loeb translation by J. P. Postgate).]

[57. ][Quintilian, Institutio Oratoria, 1.11.1.]

[58. ][Horace, Satires, 1.6.71–82: “I owe this to my father, who, though poor with a starveling farm, would not send me to the school of Flavius … nay, he boldly took his boy off to Rome, to be taught those studies that any knight or senator would have his own offspring taught. … He himself, a guardian true and tried, went with me among all my teachers.”]

[59. ][Horace, Epistles, 2.2.43: “Kindly Athens added somewhat more training.”]

[60. ][Horace, Epistles, 1.18.109–10: “May I have a good supply of books and of food to last the year.”]

[61. ][Horace, Satires, 1.10.73–74: “and you must not strive to catch the wonder of the crowd, but be content with the few as your readers.”]

[62. ][Horace, Epistles, 1.2.3–4: “who tells us what is fair, what is foul, what is helpful, what not, more plainly and better than Chrysippus or Crantor.”]

[63. ]Hist. lib. 4. circa initium. [Tacitus, Histories, 4.5: “In his early youth Helvidius devoted his extraordinary talents to the higher studies, not as most youths do, in order to cloak a useless leisure with a pretentious name, but that he might enter public life better fortified against the chances of fortune. He followed those teachers of philosophy who count only those things ‘good’ which are morally right and only those things ‘evil’ which are base, and who reckon power, high birth, and everything else that is beyond the control of the will as neither good nor bad” (Loeb translation by Clifford H. Moore).]

[64. ][Lucan, The Civil War, 2.380–83, 389–91: “Such was the character, such the inflexible rule of austere Cato—to observe moderation and hold fast the limit, to follow nature, to give his life for his country, to believe that he was born to serve the whole world and not himself … he worshipped justice and practiced uncompromising virtue; he reserved his kindness for the whole people; and there was no act of Cato’s life where selfish pleasure crept in and claimed a share” (Loeb translation by J. D. Duff).]

[65. ][Turnbull is paraphrasing Cicero, De Finibus Bonorum et Malorum, esp. 2.21.]

[66. ][Horace, Epistles, 1.2.55: “pleasure bought with pain is harmful.”]

[67. ][Shaftesbury, Characteristicks, III:99.]

[68. ][Isaac Newton, Opticks, bk. III, pt. I (Chicago: Encyclopaedia Britannica Great Books, 1952), 528–29.]

[69. ]Principles of moral philosophy.

[70. ]Heineccius’s methodical system of the laws of nature and nations, englished by Dr. Turnbull, with remarks added by the translator, and a discourse on the origin and spirit of moral and civil laws. [J. G. Heineccius, A Methodical System of Universal Law, trans. George Turnbull, 2 vols. (London: Noon, 1741).]

[71. ][Jacques Bénigne Bossuet (1627–1704). Turnbull had in mind his Discours sur l’histoire universelle more than his other theological and historical works.]

[72. ][Scipio’s reflections upon the defeat of Carthage, repeated throughout the eighteenth century, were originally taken from Polybius, The Histories, bk. 39.]

[73. ][Alexander Pope, trans., The Iliad, bk. 4, line 164.]

[74. ]My lord Verulam calls this science, philosophia prima & universalis, primary and universal philosophy; and from him may we learn the nature and use of it, and the way of improving, carrying it on, and applying it to the other sciences. [Francis Bacon, The Advancement of Learning, 2.3.1.]

[75. ]See a philosophical enquiry into the connexion between the works and doctrines of Jesus Christ, by G. T. LL. D. [George Turnbull, A Philosophical Enquiry Concerning the Connexion Betwixt the Doctrines and Miracles of Jesus Christ (London: Willock, 1731).]

[76. ][Juvenal, Satires, 15.159–66: “But in these days there is more amity among serpents than among men; wild beasts are merciful to beasts spotted like themselves. When did the stronger lion ever take the life of the weaker? In what wood did a boar ever breathe his last under the tusks of a boar bigger than himself? The fierce tigress of India dwells in perpetual peace with her fellow; grim bears live in harmony with bears. But man finds it all too little to have forged the deadly blade on an impious anvil.”]

[77. ][Juvenal, Satires, 15.131–58: “When Nature gave tears to man, she proclaimed that he was tender-hearted; and tenderness is the best quality in man. She therefore bids us weep for the misery of a friend upon his trial, or when a ward whose streaming cheeks and girlish locks raise a doubt as to his sex brings a defrauder into court. It is at Nature’s behest that we weep when we meet the bier of a full-grown maiden, or when the earth closes over a babe too young for the funeral pyre. For what good man, what man worthy of the mystic torch, and such as the priest of Ceres would wish him to be, believes that any human woes concern him not? It is this that separates us from the dumb herd; and it is for this that we alone have had allotted to us a nature worthy of reverence, capable of divine things, fit to acquire and practice the arts of life, and that we have drawn from on high that gift of feeling which is lacking to the beasts that grovel with eyes upon the ground. To them in the beginning of the world our common maker gave only life; to us he gave souls as well, that fellow-feeling might bid us ask or proffer aid, gather scattered dwellers into a people, desert the primeval groves and woods inhabited by our forefathers, build houses for ourselves, with others adjacent to our own, that a neighbour’s threshold, from the confidence that comes of union, might give us peaceful slumbers; shield with arms a fallen citizen, or one staggering from a grievous wound, give battle signals by a common trumpet, and seek protection inside the same city walls, and behind gates fastened by a single key.”]

[78. ]Property is the natural foundation of power, as wisdom and virtue are of authority. Hence the natural foundation of every civil government is laid in the distribution of the lands or territories belonging to it, to the several members of it. If the prince is proprietor of the lands, as in some eastern governments, such princes will be absolute; for all who hold the lands, holding them of the prince, and enjoying them at his will and pleasure, are so subject to his will, that they are in a condition of slaves, not of free subjects. They hang on him by the teeth. If the property is divided among a few men, the rest holding of them, and under them as vassals, the power of government will be in the hands of those few men, as a nobility, whatever authority may be lodged in the hands of one or more persons, for the sake of unity in counsel and action: But if the property be generally divided near equally among all the members of the society, the true power of such government will naturally be in all the members of that society, whatever form of union they may have, for the direction of the whole as a political body. See this political truth of great moment and extent fully confirmed and illustrated by historical examples in Mr. Harrington’s Oceana, and his other political tracts. See likewise a most ingenious dissertation by Mr. Lowman on the civil government of the Hebrews, and Turnbull’s remarks upon the chapters about government, in Heineccius’s system of the laws of nature and nations.

[79. ]’Tis a usual piece of vanity (says a very ingenious writer) in the historians of every nation to represent the original constitutions of their respective states, as founded on deep laid systems and plans of policy, in which they imagine that they discover the utmost reach of human wisdom; whereas in truth they are often the effects of downright chance, and produced by the force of certain circumstances, or the simple dictates of nature itself, out of a regard to some present expediency, and with little providence to the future. Such was the original of the celebrated Gothic government, that was formerly spread all over Europe, and tho’ much defaced by time, is still distinguishable here (Britain): Let not this important observation which history abundantly confirms, be overlooked.

[80. ][Locke, Education, §187.]

[81. ][Persius, Satires, 5.109–22: “Are you moderate in your desires, modest in your establishment, and kindly to your friends? Can you now close your granaries, and now again throw them open? Can you pass by a coin sticking in the mud, without gulping down your saliva in your greed for treasure? When you can truly say, ‘Yes, all these things are mine,’ I will call you a free and a wise man, under the favour of praetors and of Jupiter; but if, after having been but a little ago of the same stuff as ourselves, you hold to your old skin, and though your brow be smooth, still keep a crafty fox in that vapid heart of yours, I take back what I have just granted you and pull in my rope. Not one point has reason granted you; put out your finger (and what can be a slighter thing than that?) and you go wrong: not all the incense in the world will win leave from the Gods that one short half-ounce of wisdom may find lodgment in the head of a fool! To mingle the two things is sacrilege.”]

[82. ][Joseph Addison and Richard Steele, The Spectator, nos. 512 and 183.]

[83. ]’Tis worth while to copy here what is said upon this important part of education, Spectator 337. [The third in a series of four letters on education (along with nos. 307, 313, and 353) written to The Spectator by Eustace Budgell.] If I had not been hindered by some extraordinary business, I should have sent you sooner my farther thoughts upon education. You may please to remember, that in my last letter, I endeavoured to give the best reasons that could be urged in favour of a private or public education. Upon the whole, it may perhaps be thought that I seemed rather inclined to the latter, tho’ at the same time, I confessed that virtue, which ought to be our first and principal care, was more usually acquired in the former. I intend therefore in this letter to offer at methods, by which I conceive boys might be made to improve in virtue, as they advance in letters. I know that in most of our public schools, vice is punished and discouraged, whenever it is found out; but this is far from being sufficient, unless our youth are at the same time taught to form a right judgment of things, and to know what is properly virtue. To this end, whenever they read the lives and actions of such men as have been famous in their generation, it should not be thought enough to make them barely understand so many Greek or Latin Sentences, but they should be asked their opinion of such an action or saying, and obliged to give their reasons why they take it to be good or bad. By this means they would insensibly arrive at proper notions of courage, temperance, honour and justice. There must be great care taken, how the example of any particular person is recommended to them in gross; instead of which they ought to be taught, wherein such a man, tho’ great in some respects, was weak and faulty in others. For want of this Caution, a boy is often so dazled with the lustre of a great character, that he confounds its beauty with its blemishes, and looks even upon the faulty part of it with an eye of admiration. I have often wondered how Alexander, who was naturally of a generous and merciful disposition, came to be guilty of so barbarous an action as that of dragging the governor of a town after his chariot. I know this is generally ascribed to his passion for Homer; but I lately met with a passage in Plutarch, which, if I am not very much mistaken, still gives us a clearer light into the motives of this action. Plutarch tells us, that Alexander in his youth had a master named Lysimachus, who, tho’ he was a man destitute of all politeness, ingratiated himself both with Philip and his pupil, and became the second man at court, by calling the king Peleus, the Prince Achilles, and himself Phaenix. It is no wonder if Alexander having been thus used not only to admire, but to personate Achilles, should think it glorious to imitate him in this piece of cruelty and extravagance. To carry this thought yet further, I shall submit it to your consideration, whether instead of a theme, or copy of verses, which are the usual exercises, as they are called in the school phrase, it would not be more proper that a boy should be tasked once or twice a week to write down his opinion of such persons and things as occur to him in reading; that he should descant upon the actions of Turnus and Aeneas, shew wherein they excelled, or were defective, censure or approve any particular action, observe how it might have been carried to a greater degree of perfection, and how it exceeded or fell short of another. He might at the same time mark what was moral in any speech, and how far it agreed with the character of the person speaking. This exercise would soon strengthen his judgment in what is blameable or praiseworthy, and give him an early seasoning of morality. Next to those examples which may be met with in books, I very much approve Horace’s way of setting before youth the infamous or honourable characters of their contemporaries. That poet tells us, this was the method his father made use of to incline him to any particular virtue, or give him an aversion to any particular vice, &c. Xenophon’s schools of equity, in his life of Cyrus the great, are sufficiently famous: He tells us, that the Persian children went to school, and employed their time as diligently in learning the principles of justice and sobriety, as the youth in other countries did to acquire the most difficult arts and sciences, &c. The method which Apuleius tells us the Indian Gymnosophists took to educate their disciples is still more curious and remarkable. His words are as follow: “When their dinner is ready, before it is served up, the masters enquire of every particular scholar how he has employed his time since sun-rising: Some of them answer, that having been chosen as arbiters between two persons, they have composed their differences and made them friends; some that they have been executing the orders of their parents; and others, that they have either found out something new by their own application, or learn’d it from the instruction of their fellows. But if there happens to be any one among them, who cannot make it appear, that he has employed the morning to advantage, he is immediately excluded from the company, and obliged to work while the rest are at dinner.” It is not impossible, that from these several ways of producing virtue in the minds of boys, some general method might be invented. What I would endeavour to inculcate is, that our youth cannot be too soon taught the principles of virtue, seeing the first impressions which are made on the mind are always the strongest. The Archbishop of Cambray makes Telemachus say, that tho’ he was young in years, he was old in the art of knowing how to keep both his own and his friends secrets, &c. There is hardly any virtue which a lad might not early learn by practice and example. In short, nothing is more wanting to our public schools, than that the masters of them should use the same care in fashioning the manners of their scholars, as in forming their tongues to the learned languages. Wherever the former is omitted, I cannot help agreeing with Mr. Locke, That a man must have a very strange value for words, when preferring the languages of the Greeks and Romans to that which made them such brave men, he can think it worth while to hazard the innocence and virtue of his son for a little Greek and Latin.

[84. ][The quote found on p. 375 of this book, from “an excellent writer of our own” (The Spectator, no. 307), actually begins here.]

[85. ][Horace, Ars Poetica, lines 40–41: “Whoever shall choose a theme within his range, neither speech will fail him, nor clearness of order.”]

[86. ][“Too little … too much.”]

[87. ][[Horace, Ars Poetica, lines 25–26: “[We] deceive ourselves by the semblance of truth. Striving to be brief, I become obscure.”]]

[88. ][Alexander Pope, The Odyssey of Homer, 17.392–93.]

[89. ][Turnbull has included the translation of this word, within the same sentence, as “varied and diversified.”]

[90. ]Turnbull on ancient painting, &c.

[91. ][The Spectator, nos. 411–21.]

[92. ][Quintilian, Institutio Oratoria, 8.3.11: “In fact true beauty and usefulness always go hand in hand.”]

[93. ][Cicero, De Oratore, 3.45.178–81: “But in oratory as in most matters nature has contrived with incredible skill that the things possessing most utility also have the greatest amount of dignity, and indeed frequently of beauty also. We observe that for the safety and security of the universe this whole ordered world of nature … [Turnbull omits a geocentric description of the universe]. This system is so powerful that a slight modification of it would make it impossible for it to hold together, and it is so beautiful that no lovelier vision is ever imaginable. Now carry your mind to the form and figure of human beings or even of the other living creatures: you will discover that the body has no part added to its structure that is superfluous, and that its whole shape has the perfection of a work of art and not of accident. Take trees: in these the trunk, the branches and lastly the leaves are all without exception designed so as to keep and to preserve their own nature, yet nowhere is there any part that is not beautiful. Let us leave nature and contemplate the arts: in a ship, what is so indispensable as the sides, the hold, the bow, the stern, the yards, the sails and the masts? Yet they all have such a graceful appearance that they appear to have been invented not only for the purpose of safety but also for the sake of giving pleasure. In temples and colonnades the pillars are to support the structure, yet they are as dignified in appearance as they are useful. Yonder pediment of the Capitol and those of the other temples are the product not of beauty but of actual necessity; for it was in calculating how to make the rain-water fall off the two sides of the roof that the dignified design of the gables resulted as a by-product of the needs of the structure—with the consequence that even if one were erecting a citadel in heaven, where no rain could fall, it would be thought certain to be entirely lacking in the dignity without a pediment. The same is the case in regard to all the divisions of a speech—virtually unavoidable practical requirements produce charm of style as a result” (Loeb translation by H. Rackham).]

[94. ][Turnbull has included the translation of this word, within the same sentence, as “simplicity or frugality.”]

[95. ][“Nature does nothing in vain.”]

[96. ][Horace, Ars Poetica, line 23: “In short, be the work what you will, let it at least be simple and uniform.”]

[97. ][Alexander Pope, An Essay on Criticism, 68–79.]

[98. ][Alexander Pope, Epistle to Mr. Addison, Occasioned by His Dialogues on Medals.]

[99. ][Pope, The Odyssey of Homer, 22.382–92.]

[100. ][Theocritus, Idyl 16, line 1: “This is ever the care of Zeus’ maidens (i.e., the muses).”]

[101. ][James Thomson, Liberty, A Poem, 5.374–99.]

[102. ][“The stupidest ostentation of kings,” and “desirous ones of incredible things.”]

[103. ][Quintilian, Institutio Oratoria, 12.1.7–8: “Amid such passions as these what room is there for literature or any virtuous pursuit? You might as well look for fruit in land that is choked with thorns and brambles. Well, then, I ask you, is not simplicity of life essential if we are to be able to endure the toil entailed by study? What can we hope to get from lust or luxury? Is not the desire to win praise one of the strongest stimulants to a passion for literature? But does that mean that we are to suppose that praise is an object of concern to bad men?”]

[104. ][Cicero, De Officiis, 2.77: “There is … no vice more offensive than avarice, especially in men who stand foremost and hold the helm of state. For to exploit the state for selfish profit is not only immoral; it is criminal, infamous. And so the oracle, which the Pythian Apollo uttered, that ‘Sparta should not fall from any other cause than avarice,’ seems to be a prophecy not to the Lacedaemonians alone, but to all wealthy nations as well.”]

[105. ][Sallust, Bellum Catilinae, 11.8: “Even the wise have their temper tried by prosperity” (trans. Alfred W. Pollard, London: MacMillan, 1882).]

[106. ][Horace, Epistles, 1.6.15–18: “Let the wise man bear the name of madman, the just of unjust, should he pursue Virtue herself beyond due bounds. Go now, gaze with rapture on silver plate, antique marble, bronzes and works of art; ‘marvel’ at gems and Tyrian dyes.”]

[107. ][Cornelius Nepos, “Life of Atticus,” 8.5: “He was tasteful rather than magnificent, distinguished rather than extravagant; and all his efforts were in the direction of elegance, not of excess. His furniture was modest, not abundant, so that it attracted attention in neither direction” (Loeb translation by John C. Rolfe).]

[108. ][Alexander Pope, Epistle to Richard Boyle, Earl of Burlington, lines 179–80.]

[1. ][Horace, Odes, 4.4.33–34: “Yet training increases inborn worth, and righteous ways make strong the heart” (Loeb translation by C. E. Bennett). This is also Locke’s motto for Some Thoughts Concerning Education.]

[2. ][Horace, Ars Poetica, lines 141–42: “Sing, Muse, for me the man who on Troy’s fall / Saw the wide world, its ways and cities all” (the opening of the Odyssey).]