ay be defined, that series of means by which the human understanding is gradually enlightened, and the dispositions of the human heart are formed and called forth between earliest infancy and the period when we consider ourselves as qualified to take a part in active life, and ceasing to direct our views solely to the acquisition of new knowledge or the formation of new habits, are content to act upon the principles which we have already acquired.

This comprehends the circumstances of the child in regard to local situation, and the manner in which the necessaries and conveniences of life are supplied to him; the degree of care and tenderness with which he is nursed in infancy; the examples set before him by parents, preceptors, and companions; the degree of restraint or licentiousness to which he is accustomed; the various bodily exercises, languages, arts, and sciences, which are taught him, and the method and order in which they are communicated; the moral and religious principles which are instilled into his mind; and even the state of health which he enjoys during that period of life.

In different periods of society, in different climates, and under different forms of government, various institutions have naturally prevailed in the education of youth; and even in every different family, the children are educated in a different manner, according to the differences in the situation, dispositions, and abilities, of the parents. The education of youth being an object of the highest importance, has not only engaged the anxious care of parents, but has likewise often attracted the notice of the legislator and the philosopher. What our readers have therefore a right to expect from us on this article is, 1st, That we give an account of some of the most remarkable institutions for the education of youth which have been legally established or have accidentally prevailed among various nations and in various periods of society. 2dly, That we also give some account of the most judicious and the most fanciful plans which have been proposed by those authors who have written on the subject of education. And, lastly, that we venture to present them with the result of our own observations and recollections on this important head.

In the infancy of society, very little attention can be paid to the education of youth. Before men have risen above a savage state, they are almost entirely the creatures of appetite and instinct. The impulse of appetite hurries them to propagate their species. The power of instinctive affection is often, though not always, so strong as to compel them to preserve and nurse the fruit of their embraces. But even when their wants are not so urgent, nor their hearts so destitute of feeling, as to prompt them to abandon their new-born infants to the ferocity of wild beasts or the severity of the elements, yet fill their uncomfortable and precarious situation, their ignorance of the laws of Education, nature, their deficiency of moral and religious principles, and their want of dexterity or skill in any of the arts of life, all these together must render them unable to regulate the education of their children with much attention or eagerness. They may relate to them the wild incoherent tales in which all their notions concerning superior beings and all their knowledge of the circumstances and transactions of their ancestors are contained; they may teach them to bend the bow, to point their arrows, to hollow the trunk of a tree into a canoe, and to trace the almost imperceptible path of an enemy or a wild beast over dreary mountains or through intricate forests: but they cannot impress their minds with just ideas concerning their social relations, or concerning their obligations to a Supreme Being, the framer and upholder of nature: they teach them not to repress their irregular appetites, nor to restrain the follies of passion when they exceed just bounds or are improperly directed; nor can they inform their understandings with very accurate or extensive views of the phenomena of nature. Besides, they know not how far implicit obedience to his parents commands is to be required of the boy or youth, nor how far he ought to be left to the guidance of his own reason or humour. Among savages the influence of parental authority soon expires, nor is the parent solicitous to maintain it. As the eagle expels his young from his lofty nest as soon as they become able to support themselves in the air; so the savage generally ceases to care for his child, or assume any power over him, as soon as he becomes capable of procuring the means necessary for his own subsistence. Savages being scarce connected by any social ties, being unacquainted with the restraint of civil laws, and being unable to contribute in any great degree to the maintenance or protection of one another; each individual among them, as soon as he attains that degree of strength and dexterity which may enable him to procure the necessaries of life, stands single and alone, independent on others, and scorning to submit to their commands. The parent, conscious of his inability to confer any important benefits on his child, after he has advanced even a very short way towards manhood, no longer endeavours to control his actions; and the child, proud of his independence, scarce submits to ask his parent's advice. And even before reaching this period of independence, so few are the benefits which parents can bestow (being confined to supplying the necessaries of life, and communicating the knowledge of a very few of the rudest simplest arts), that children regard them with little deference, nor do they always insist on implicit submission. Want of natural affection, and consciousness of superior strength, often prompt the parent to abuse the weakness of his child. Yet though small the skill with which the savage can cultivate the understanding or form the dispositions of his child, though few the arts which he can teach him, and though not very respectful or submissive the obedience or deference which he requires; yet is there one quality of mind which the savage is more careful to inspire than those parents who are directed in educating their children by all the lights of civilized society. That quality is indeed absolutely necessary to fit the savage for his situation; without it, the day on which he ceased ceased to enjoy the protection of his parents would most probably be the last day of his life: That quality is Fortitude. We may perhaps think, that the hardships to which the young savage is from the period of his birth unavoidably exposed, might be enough to inspire him with fortitude; but, as if these were insufficient, other means are applied to inspire him with what the Stoics have regarded as the first of virtues. He is compelled to submit to many hardships unnecessary, but from a view to this. Children are there called to emulate each other in bearing the severest torments. Charlevoix relates, that he has seen a boy and girl bind their arms together, place a burning coal between them, and try who could longest endure without shrinking the pain to which they thus exposed themselves.

Still, however, the young savage owes his education rather to nature and to the circumstances in which he is placed, and the accidents which befell him, than to the kindness or prudence of his parents. Nature has endowed him with certain powers of understanding, sentiments, sensations, and bodily organs; he has been placed in certain circumstances, and is exposed to a certain train of events; and by these means chiefly, not by the watchful industry of instructors, does he become such as he appears when he has reached the years of maturity.

But man was not designed by his wise and beneficent Creator to remain long in a savage state; the principles of his nature incline him to social life. Reason, distinguishing the superior advantages to be enjoyed in society, concurs with the social principle in his breast, in prompting him to seek the company and conversation of others of the human race. When men enter into society, they always unite their powers and talents, in a certain degree, for the common advantage of the social body. In consequence of this, laws come into time to be instituted; new arts are invented; progress is made in the knowledge of nature; moral duties are better understood and defined; juster ideas are gradually acquired of all our social relations; friendship, love, filial, parental, and conjugal affection, all are heightened and refined. All these advantages do not instantly result from men entering into a social state; the improvement of the human mind, and the civilization of society, are gradual and progressive. But as it is natural for men to unite in a social state, so it is no less natural for society to be gradually improved and civilized till it attain an high degree of perfection and refinement.

When men have attained to such knowledge and improvement as to be entitled to a more honourable appellation than that of savages, one part of their improvements generally consists in their becoming more judicious and attentive in directing the education of their youth. They have now acquired ideas of dependence and subordination; they have arts to teach and knowledge to communicate; they have moral principles to instil; and have formed notions of their relation and obligations to superior powers, which they are desirous that their children should also entertain. Their affection to their offspring is now also more tender and constant. We observe at present in that state of society in which we live, that the poor who can scarce earn for themselves and their children the necessaries of life, are generally less susceptible of parental affection, in all its anxious tenderness, than the rich, or those whom Providence hath placed in easy circumstances; and we may make use of this fact in reasoning concerning the different degrees of the same affection felt by the savage and the member of a civilized society. The savage may be considered as the poor man, who with difficulty procures the necessaries of life even for himself; the other, as the man in affluent circumstances, who is more at leisure to listen to the voice of tender and generous affection.

In this improved state of society, the education of youth is viewed as an object of higher importance. The child is dearer to his parent; and the parent is now more capable of cultivating the understanding and rectifying the dispositions of his child. His knowledge of nature, and his dexterity in the arts of life, give him more authority over a child than what the savage can possess. Obedience is now enforced, and a system of education is adopted; by means of which the parent attempts to form his child for acting a part in social life. Perhaps the legislature interferes; the education of the youth is regarded as highly worthy of public concern; it is considered that the foolish fondness or the unnatural caprice of parents may, in the rising generation, blast the hopes of the state.

In reviewing ancient history, we find that this actually took place in several of the most celebrated governments of antiquity. The Persians, the Cretans, and the Lacedemonians, were all of them too anxious among the citizens to entrust the education of the children solely to the parents. Public establishments were formed among those nations, and a series of institutions enacted, for carrying on and regulating the education of their youths: Not such as our European universities, in which literary knowledge is the sole object of pursuit, the student is maintained solely at his parents expense, and attends only if his parents think proper to send him; but of a very different nature, and on a much more enlarged plan.

The Persians, according to the elegant and accurate account delivered by Xenophon in the beginning of ancient his Cyropædia, divided the whole body of their citizens into four orders; the boys, the youth, the full-grown men, and those who were advanced beyond that period of life during which military service was required. For each of these orders particular halls were appropriated. Each of them was subjected to the inspection of twelve rulers. The adults and the supernumeraries were required to employ themselves in the performance of particular duties, suitable to their age, their abilities, and their experience; while the boys and the youth were engaged in such a course of education as seemed likely to render them worthy and useful citizens.

The boys were not employed, in their places of instruction, in acquiring literary accomplishments; for to such the Persians were strangers. They went thither to learn justice, temperance, modesty; to shoot the bow, and to launch the javelin. The virtues and the bodily exercises were what the Persians laboured to teach their children. These were the direct, and not subordinate, purposes of their system of education. The masters used to spend the greatest part of the day in dispensing justice to their scholars; who carried before them actions for thefts, robberies, frauds, and other such grounds of complaint against one another.—Such were the means by which the Persians endeavoured to instil, even in early youth, a regard for the laws of natural equity, and for the institutions of their country. Till the age of 16 or 17, the boys were buried in acquiring those parts of education. At that period they ceased to be considered as boys, and were raised to the order of the youths. After they entered this order, the same views were still attended to in the carrying on of their education. They were still endured to bodily labour. They were to attend the magistrates, and to be always ready to execute their commands. They were led out frequently to the chase; and on such expeditions they were always headed by the king, as in time of war. Here they were taught to expose themselves fearlessly to danger; to suffer, without repining or complaint, hunger, thirst, and fatigue; and to content themselves with the coarsest, simplest fare, for relieving the necessities of nature. In short, whether at home or out on some hunting expedition, they were constantly employed in acquiring new skill and dexterity in military exercises, new vigour of mind and body, and confirmed habits of temperance, fortitude, abstinence, patience, patriotism, and noble integrity. After spending ten years in this manner, their course of education was completed; they were admitted into the class of the adults, and were esteemed qualified for public offices. It must not escape our notice, that the citizens were not compelled to send their children to pass through this course of education in the public halls; but none except such as passed through this course of education were capable of civil power, or admitted to participate in public offices or public honours.

Such are the outlines of that system of education which Xenophon represents as publicly established among the Persians. Were we able to preserve in a translation all the manly and graceful simplicity of that enchanting author, we would have offered to the perusal of our readers the passage in which he has described it; but conscious of being inadequate to that task, we have presumed only to extract the information which it contains.

Perhaps, however, this system of education did not subside precisely as the eloquent disciple of Socrates describes it among that rude and simple people. On other occasions he has commemorated such instances of their barbarity, as would tempt us to think them incapable of so much order and so much wisdom. Perhaps, as the discoverers of the new world have sometimes conferred on the inhabitants of that hemisphere, in the accounts of them with which they entertained their friends in Europe, amazing degrees of moral and political wisdom, of skill and dexterity in the arts, of industry and valour, which those uncivilized children of nature were afterwards found not to possess; so the Athenian philosopher has also ascribed to the Persians prudence and attention in regulating the education of their youth beyond what people in so rude a state can possibly exert.

But if we examine into the principles on which this system of education proceeds, without concerning ourselves whether it once actually prevailed among the Persians, or is the production of the fine imagination of Xenophon, we will find it peculiarly suitable for a nation just emerging from the rudeness and ignorance of barbarity to a knowledge of social and civil relations, and of the duties connected with such relations. They have sacrificed their independence to obtain the comfort and security of a social state. They now glory in the appellation of citizens, and are desirous to discharge the duties incumbent on a citizen. They must inform their children in the nature of their social relations, and impress them with habits of discharging their social duties; otherwise the society will soon be dissolved, and their posterity will fall back into the same wild miserable state from which they have emerged. But perhaps the circumstances, or abilities, or dispositions of individuals, render them unequal to this weighty task. It becomes therefore naturally an object of public care. The whole social body find it necessary to deliberate on the most proper means for discharging it aright. A plan of education is then formed; the great object of which is, to fit the youth for discharging the duties of citizens. Arts and sciences are hitherto almost wholly unknown; and all that can be communicated to the youth is only a skill in such exercises as are necessary for their procuring subsistence, or defending themselves against human enemies or beasts of prey; and habits of performing those duties, the neglect of which must be fatal to the society or the individual.

Such is the system of education which we have surveyed as established among the Persians; and perhaps we may now be less suspicious than before Xenophon's veracity. It appears natural for a people who have reached that degree of civilization in which they are described, and have not yet advanced farther, to institute such an establishment. Some such establishment also appears necessary to prevent the society from falling back into their former barbarity. It will prevent their virtue and valour from decaying, though it may perhaps at the same time prevent them from making any very rapid progress in civilization and refinement. Yet the industry, the valour, the integrity, and the patriotism which it inspires, must necessarily produce some favourable change in their circumstances; and that change in their circumstances will be followed by a change in their system of education.

The Cretans, too, the wisdom of whose laws is so much celebrated in the records of antiquity, had a Cretan public establishment for the education of their youth. Minos, whom they revered as their great legislator, was also the founder of that establishment. Its tendency was similar to that of the course of education pursued among the Persians,—to form the soldier and the citizen. We cannot present our readers with a very particular or accurate account of it; but such as we have been able to procure from the best authorities we think it our duty to lay before them.

The Cretans were divided into three classes; the boys, the youth, and the adults. Between seven and seventeen years of age, the boy was employed in learning to shoot the bow, and in acquiring the knowledge of his duties as a man and a citizen, by listening to the conversation of the old men in the public halls, and observing their conduct. At the age of seven, he was conducted to the public halls to enter on this course. course of education. He was taught to expose himself boldly to danger and fatigue; to aspire after skill and dexterity in the use of arms and in the gymnastic exercises; to repeat the laws and hymns in honour of the gods. At the age of seventeen he was enrolled among the youth. Here his education was still continued on the same plan. He was to exercise himself among his equals in hunting, wrestling, and the military exercises; and while thus engaged, his spirits were roused and animated by strains of martial music played on such instruments as were then in use among the inhabitants of Crete. One part of the education of the Cretan youth, in which they were particularly desirous to excel, was the Pyrrhic dance; which was the invention of a Cretan, and consisted of various military evolutions performed to the sound of instruments.

Such were the principles and arts in which the Cretan legislature directed the youth to be instructed. This course of education could not be directed or superintended by the parent. It was public, and carried on with a view to fit the boy for discharging the duties of a citizen when he should attain to manhood.

It is easy to see, that such a system of education must have been instituted in the infancy of society, before many arts had been invented, or the distinctions of rank had arisen; at a time when men subsisted in a considerable degree by hunting, and when the intercourse of nations was on such a footing, that war, instead of being occasional, was the great business of life. Such a system of life would then naturally take place even though no sage legislator had arisen to regulate and enforce it.

Lycurgus, the celebrated lawgiver of Lacedemonians, thought it necessary to direct the education of youth in a particular manner, in order to prepare them for paying strict obedience to his laws. He regarded children as belonging more properly to the state than to their parents, and wished that patriotism should be still more carefully cherished in their breasts than filial affection. The spirit of his system of education was pretty similar to that of those which we have just viewed as subsisting among the Persians and the Cretans.

As soon as a boy was born, he was submitted to the inspection of the elders of that tribe to which his parents belonged. If he was well shaped, strong, and vigorous, they directed him to be brought up, and assigned a certain portion of land for his maintenance. If he was deformed, weak, and sickly, they condemned him to be exposed, as not being likely ever to become an useful citizen. If the boy appeared worthy of being brought up, he was entrusted to the care of his parents till he attained the age of seven years; but his parents were strictly charged not to spoil either his mind or his bodily constitution by foolish tendernesses. Probably, too, the state of their manners was at that time such as not to render the injunction peculiarly necessary.

At the age of seven, however, he was introduced to a public clas, consisting of all the boys of the same age. Their education was committed to masters appointed by the state; and what was chiefly inculcated on them in the course of it, was submissive obedience and respect to their superiors; quickness and brevity in their conversation, and replies to such questions as were put to them; dexterity and address in performing what was commanded them, and firmness and patience in bearing every pain or hardship to which they might be exposed. One of the means used to form them to habits of activity and address, was to permit, nay, to direct them to commit little acts of theft; which, if they performed them so dexterously as to avoid detection, they might afterwards boast of as noble exploits; but if detected in such enterprises, the awkward artless boy was exposed both to punishment and disgrace. To avoid the punishment and disgrace incurred by being detected in an act of theft, the Spartan boy would often suffer with unshrinking fortitude the severest torments. It is related of one of them, that rather than be discovered with a young fox under his cloak, which he had stolen, he suffered the little animal to tear open his bowels. Not content with beholding the children suffer by submitting voluntarily to such hardships, the Spartans also endeavoured to form them to fortitude, by whipping them on their religious festivals, sometimes with such severity that they expired under the lash. The Lacedemonian youth were also taught such bodily exercises, and the use of such warlike weapons, as were necessary to render them expert and skilful soldiers.

They too, as well as the Cretans and Persians, among whom we have seen that somewhat similar modes of education prevailed, were to be citizens and soldiers; not husbandmen, mechanics, artists, merchants, &c. Therefore the mode of education established among them was simple and uniform. Its aim was, to make them acquainted with the nature of their social duties, and to form them to such vigour of body and such firmness of mind as might render them fit for the station in which they were to be placed, and adequate to the part which they were to act. This establishment for education was perfectly consistent with the other parts of that legislature which was instituted by Lycurgus. Youth educated among the Lacedemonians could hardly fail to become worthy members of that singular republic. Let us not however regard the Spartans as singularly inhumane in their treatment of youth. Let us recede, in imagination, to that period in the progress of society from rudeness to refinement, to which they had attained when Lycurgus arose among them. What were then their circumstances, their arts and manners, their moral principles, and military discipline? Not very different from those which the laws of Lycurgus rendered so long stationary among them. He, no doubt, rectified some abuses, and introduced greater order and equality. But man is not to be so easily metamorphosed into a new form. As you cannot, at once, raise an acorn to a venerable oak; so neither will you be able to change the savage, at once, into the citizen. All the art or wisdom of Lycurgus, even though assisted by all the influence of the prophetic Apollo, could never have established his laws among his countrymen, had not their character and circumstances previously disposed them to receive them. But, grant this, and you must, of consequence, allow, that what to us may appear cruel and inhumane, must have affected their feelings in a different manner. The change introduced in the treatment of youth by the establishment... ment of this system of education was probably recommended by its being more humane than what before prevailed. Corrupted as are our manners, and effeminate our modes of education; yet we would not perhaps act wisely in laying them aside, to adopt in their stead those of ancient Sparta. But the Spartan education was peculiarly well fitted to form citizens for the republic of Lycurgus; it was happily adapted to that state of society in which it was introduced. And, if we should enquire by what means Lycurgus was enabled to fix the arts, the manners, and in short the civilization of his country, for so long a period in a stationary state; we would perhaps find reason to ascribe that effect, to the public establishment which he instituted for the education of youth; to his confining the Spartan citizens to the profession of arms, and assigning all servile offices to the Helots; and to his prohibiting the use of gold and silver. Among these however his establishment for education occupies the chief place. Never was any state adorned with more patriotic citizens than those of Sparta. With them every private affection seemed to be swallowed up by the amor patriae: the love of their country was at least their ruling passion. Pardares being rejected when he offered himself a candidate for a seat among the council of three hundred, returned home, rejoicing that there were in Sparta no fewer than three hundred whom his countrymen found reason to regard as better citizens than himself. This was not a feigned joy, assumed to conceal the pain which he suffered from the disappointment; it was heartfelt and sincere. Such were the effects of their system of education.

When we turn our eyes from the Persians, the Cretans, and the Spartans, to the other nations of antiquity; we no where behold so regular a system of public education. Among the Athenians and the Romans, the laws did not descend to regulate in so particular a manner the management of the youth. These nations gradually emerged from a state of the rudest barbarity, to that polished, enlightened, and civilized state which rendered them the glory and the wonder of the heathen world: but in no part of their progress from the one state to the other do we find any such establishment subsisting among them. So various, however, are the circumstances which form and diversify the character of nations, that we cannot reasonably conclude, because no such establishments existed among the Athenians and Romans, that therefore their existence was unnatural among those nations who possessed them. But though the education of youth was managed in a different manner among these and most other nations in the ancient world, than by public establishments, which detached children from the care of their parents; yet still it was everywhere regarded as an object of the highest importance. As the manners of mankind gradually improved to a state of refinement; as the invention of arts, and the discovery of science gradually introduced opulence and luxury; connubial, parental, and filial affection gradually acquired greater strength and tendernesses. Of consequence, children experienced more of their parents care; and that care was directed to form them for acting a becoming part in life. According to the circumstances of each nation, the arts which they cultivated, and the form of government under which they lived; the knowledge which they sought to communicate to their children, and the habits which they endeavoured to impress upon them, were different from those of other nations: And again, according to the different circumstances, tempers, abilities, and dispositions of parents, even the children of each family were brought up in a manner different from that in which those of other families were managed. The Athenians, the Romans, the Carthaginians, conducted each of them the education of their youth in a different manner, because they had each different objects in view. But having considered the most singular establishments for education which prevailed in the ancient world, it seems unnecessary for us to defend to a particular account of the manner which every nation, or fantastic individual, thought proper to pursue in bringing up their youth. It will probably be more useful and entertaining to our readers, if we next present them with a view of some of the most judicious or fanciful plans of education which have been proposed by the writers on that subject.

One of the most respectable writers on education among the ancients, is the celebrated Quintilian. He taught rhetoric in Rome during the reign of Domitian and under several of the other emperors. When he retired from the exercise of his employment as a teacher of rhetoric, he spent his leisure in the composition of a treatise, not merely on rhetoric, but on the most proper means for educating a boy so as to render him both an eloquent orator and a good man.

In that valuable treatise, he enters into a minute detail of all that appears to him most likely to conduce to those important ends.

As soon as the boy enters the world, he would have the greatest care to be used in selecting those who are to be placed about him. Let his nurse have no impediment of speech. It will be happy for him, if his parents be persons of sense and learning. Let his tutor, at least, possess these qualifications. As soon as he attains the distinct use of his organs of speech, let him be initiated in the first elements of literature. For as he is capable of distinguishing and remembering at a very early age; so his faculties cannot possibly be employed in a more advantageous manner. And even at this early period of life, let maxims of prudence and the first principles of morals be inculcated upon his mind by the books which are put into his hands, and even by the lines which he copies in learning the art of writing. The Greek language was to the Romans in the days of Quintilian, what the Latin and Greek and French are to us at present, an acquisition held indispensably necessary to those who aspired to a liberal education; and Quintilian judges it proper that the boy should begin his application to letters with the Greek language in preference to his mother tongue.

This judicious writer next examines a question which has been often agitated, Whether a domestic or a public education is liable to the fewest inconveniences, and likely to be attended with the greatest advantages? And he is of opinion, that in a domestic education the boy is in danger of being corrupted by injudicious fondness and evil example; is not roused by the spur of emulation; and is deprived of proper opportunities for acquiring a just idea of his own powers, or that activity and dexterity which he will afterwards find so necessary when he comes to act a part in life: While in a public education, which was preferred by some of the most renowned nations of antiquity, the morals are not greatly exposed to corruption, emulation is roused, friendships are formed, all the powers of the mind are called forth to act with new vigour, and the youth is prepared for performing his part on the great theatre of the world. Quintilian, therefore, wishes that parents would place their children in public seminaries of education.

When a boy is committed to a master's care, the master's attention must be first directed to discover his dispositions and the extent of his capacity. Of his capacity he will form a favourable judgment, not from his promptness, nor even from his quickness of apprehension; but from his modesty, docility, and virtuous dispositions. If the boy possesses these last qualifications, the master will rejoice in him, as likely to give him satisfaction and do him honour. According to his temper and dispositions, let the boy be treated with mildness or severity; but never let severity extend to blows. Let the boy be allured and led, by the most artful and insinuating treatment, to do his duty; there will then be no occasion to punish him for neglecting it.

As Quintilian's professed object was, not merely to give general directions for forming the heart and cultivating the understanding, but to form a particular character in life, the scholar and the orator; he finds it necessary to enter into minute details concerning the manner in which the boy is to be instructed in speaking, writing, grammar, and composition; of which it does not appear necessary for us to take particular notice in this place. Music and geometry, he thinks, ought to make a part of the young orator's studies; as being useful to render him accurate in reasoning, and capable of relishing the beauties of the poets. He is also of opinion, that the boy should not be confined to one branch of study, without being allowed to attempt others till he have made himself master of that. Let several parts of literature engage his attention by turns; let him dedicate a considerable portion of his time to them. He may thus acquire habits of industrious application which will remain with him through life.

With the tender attention of a good man, this sensible and elegant writer still accompanies his pupil through the course of his studies; anxiously insists that he be placed under a master distinguished for purity of morals, and for no mean abilities in his profession; directs his memory to be stored with the noblest passages of the poets, orators, and historians; and carefully discusses and refutes those opinions which represent genius as above industry. The remaining part of his work being employed on the principles of rhetoric, without containing anything on the subject of education in general, it is not necessary that we should here present an analysis of it to our readers. But since Quintilian was so distinguished, not only as a rhetorician, but as an instructor of youth; and displays so much good sense and so solid a judgment, formed on long experience, in whatever he advances on the subject of education; we could not, without extreme negligence, omit taking notice of him under this article, and affording our readers an opportunity of being instructed by listening to his sentiments on this head.

The name of John Milton is so much revered in Britain, that his sentiments on any subject are interesting to Britons. His life was dedicated to study: During a part of it, he was employed in the task of instructing youth; and among his other works we find a treatise on education. He had himself been educated according to that plan which has long been established in the English universities; but with that mode of education he was not satisfied. The object of his directions is chiefly to form the scholar. He considered himself as qualified to exhibit a model of "a better education, in extent and comprehension far more large, and yet of time far shorter, and of attainment far more certain, than any that had yet been in practice." The following is the substance of his treatise.

As the end of learning is to cultivate our understandings, and to rectify our dispositions; therefore the design of our applying to the study of languages cannot be merely that we may commit to memory the words of which they consist, or that we may acquire a knowledge of their analogy and structure; but that we may enrich our minds with the treasures of wisdom which they contain. But in the present modes of education this design does not appear to be kept in view. The learner of Latin is burdened with rules, and themes, and verses, and orations; but no care is taken to make him master of the valuable knowledge which the classics contain. And when he advances a little farther, he is driven into the thorny paths of logic and metaphysics. So, when his studies are completed, and he is considered as having received a liberal education, he is almost as destitute of real knowledge as when he first entered a school.

But to render learning truly beneficial, instead of the school and university education which youth at present receive; let the place of both school and university be supplied by an academy, in which they may acquire all that is taught at either, except law and physic. Let the academy afford accommodation for 150 persons; 20 of whom may be servants and attendants. As many academies as are necessary may be afterwards erected on the model of this one. Let the youth who are introduced into this academy begin their studies with learning the principal rules of grammar from some good elementary book. In their pronunciation of Latin, let them be taught to follow the pronunciation of the Italians; as that of the English is indistinct, and unsuitable to the genius of the language. Next, read to them some entertaining book on education; such as, the three first books of Quintilian in Latin, and Cebes, Plutarch, or some other of the Socratic discourses, in Greek; and be careful to seize every opportunity of inspiring them, by reasonable lectures and explanations, with love for learning, admiration of great and virtuous characters, and a disposition to cheerful obedience. At the same time, but at a different hour of the day, let them be instructed in the rules of arithmetic and the elements of geometry. Between supper and bed-time instruct them in the principles of religion and the sacred history. From the writers on education let your pupils pass to the authors on agriculture, to Cato, Varro, and Columella. fore half these authors be read, they cannot but be pretty well qualified to read most of the prose authors in the Latin language; and they may now, with great propriety, learn the use of the globes, and make themselves acquainted with the ancient and modern maps. Let them, about the same time, begin the study of the Greek tongue, and proceed in it as in the Latin: they will not fail to overcome, in a short time, all the difficulties of grammar; after which they will have access to all the treasures of natural knowledge to be found in Aristotle and Theophrastus. In the same manner they may make themselves acquainted with Vitruvius, Seneca, Mela, Celsus, Pliny, and Solinus. And having thus passed through the principles of arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and geography, with a general compact of physics; let them next turn their attention to mathematics, in which they may begin with the practical branch of trigonometry, which will serve as an introduction to fortification, architecture, and navigation. To teach them the knowledge of nature, and instruct them in the arts of life, let them have the affluence and instructions, not merely of masters who are acquainted only with books, but of men whose skill has been obtained by actual practice, even of artists and mechanics. Next, let the poets obtain their attention; and they will now read them with ease and pleasure. From the poets let your pupils proceed to the moralists; and, after acquainting themselves with them, they may be allowed the entertainment of some of the best Greek, Latin, and Italian, dramatic compositions. From these let them proceed to politics: let them here study the law of Moses, the admirable remains of the ancient lawgivers of Greece, the Roman tables, edicts, and pandects, concluding with the institutions of their mother country. Now let them be more particularly instructed in the principles of theology; for by this time they may have acquired the Hebrew language, together with the Chaldee and the Syriac dialect, and may therefore read the scriptures in their original language. When their minds are thus furnished, they will be able to enter into the spirit of the noblest historians and poets. To get by heart, and repeat in a proper manner, passages from the writings of some of these, will have the happiest effects in elevating their genius. Let this lately edifice be crowned with logic and rhetoric. Far different would be the effects of such a course of education, from those produced by any which is at present pursued. We should then see abler writers, more eloquent speakers, and wiser statesmen. Similar to this, probably, was the course taught in the famous schools of Pythagoras, Plato, Hippocrates, and Aristotle. This would unite the advantages of an Athenian and a Spartan education: for our pupils should be taught the exercises of wrestling and fencing, and the whole military discipline.

Such are the ideas of our admired Milton on the subject of education. An enthusiastic admirer of the sciences, arts, and institutions of Greece and Rome; from his religious and political principles, no friend to the universities; it was natural for a man of his learning and ingenuity, in an age of innovation, and influenced by such prejudices, to form such a project as that which we have surveyed. He seems not to have reflected, that it is necessary for children to be long occupied in obtaining a familiar acquaintance with words, before they can gain from books any knowledge of things; overlooking this circumstance, and perceiving plainly that the mode of education which then prevailed confined the attention of youth almost wholly to words, he could not but regard the scheme which he proposed as likely to produce very happy effects. His observation, that the appearances of external nature are among the first objects which attract the attention of youth, which he communicates by directing his pupils to peruse the writers on agriculture and natural history as near the beginning of their studies as possible; if not altogether just, yet must be allowed to be nearly so. Perhaps human actions and passions, and the series of events which happen around us, are, by the time at which we begin our application to learning, the objects which most frequently and strongly engage our attention: But the appearances of external nature are at least the next object of our regard.

Mr Locke, to whose abilities and noble desire to be useful to the world his country is so much indebted, Treatise on Education, has written, among other things, on the education of youth. He was capable of thinking for himself; but more desirous of rendering himself useful, than of being admired for singularity. He is, therefore, an author to whom we ought to listen, at least, with respectful attention. If Quintilian and Milton had been employed as teachers of youth, Mr Locke had been conversant with the world, had inquired into the principles of human nature, and had no doubt endeavoured to examine without prejudice the effects of those modes of education of which he disapproves. When we consider, that, to render himself useful to the rising generation, he could descend from the heights of science to translate the fables of Aesop, and to perform other humble tasks in literature, which a philosopher of less benevolence and virtue would have disdained; we cannot but look with veneration and gratitude on so exalted a character. In his Treatise on Education, the two great objects which Mr Locke keeps in view are, 1st, To preserve and strengthen the bodily constitution; 2ndly, To inform the understanding with useful knowledge, and to cherish good dispositions in the heart.

In his directions on the first of these heads, he seems extremely anxious to prevent parents and others in authority, whose hands children are placed, from injuring them by ill-directed tenderness. Plain fare, simple and light clothing, abstinence from physic and from strong liquors, he earnestly recommends as the most judicious means for preserving and confirming the health of the child. In all his gratifications let the strictest moderation be observed. If you permit him to indulge pretty freely in sleep, at least cause him to get up at an early hour in the morning. In one thing, however, few parents will be willing to comply with Mr Locke's advice. He not only directs that the child's feet be frequently bathed in cold water; but even expresses a wish, that his shoes were always kept in such a condition as to admit water freely. This he thinks likely to fortify the constitution of the body in such a manner, as to render him less liable, in the course of life, to such diseases as arise from any unusual exposure to wetness or cold, than others whose feet... feet have been more carefully kept dry. Though he had prosecuted his studies with a design to enter into the profession of physic, yet so unfavourable an opinion did he entertain of the effects produced by medical preparations on the human constitution, that he earnestly insists on the parent to beware of administering any of them to his child. From the desire which Mr Locke discovers to have children exposed to hardships, and restrained from indulgence, in order to confirm the health and invigorate the constitution, we may conjecture him to have been an admirer of that severe mode of education which usually prevails in the earlier periods of the existence of society. He seems to have thought, that if a boy be brought up like a Huron or a Spartan, he must necessarily become robust and healthy; without reflecting, that those children who are subjected to such a course of education, too great a proportion are unable to survive it: such is the natural delicacy of the human frame.

When he turns his attention to the cultivating of the understanding, and the forming of the dispositions, Mr Locke still deservedly claims the regard of the parent and the preceptor. With a virtuous indignation he reproaches that negligence and folly by which we generally corrupt the heart and spoil the temper of children, even in the period of infancy; so as to render them incorrigible when they advance farther in life. Their appetites are pampered, all their desires are gratified; and if we are at any time disposed to refuse what they ask, they have an all-powerful engine to compel our compliance with their wishes. They assail us with tears; and we then yield to their requests, however hurtful to themselves or inconvenient to us. We often studiously instruct them in vicious tricks, and call forth their evil passions. At so early an age, their rage or cunning can scarcely injure us; and we reflect not that habits of peevishness and deceit must be peculiarly hurtful to themselves.

But though all the foolish desires of children ought not to be gratified, and though we should carefully avoid leading them into any bad habit; yet it is not necessary nor prudent to treat them with harshness or severity. Let them be formed to obedience from their earliest years; let them be accustomed to submit implicitly to the direction of those on whom they depend. But beware of forcing their temper and depressing their spirits by harshness: and on the other hand, remember, that it is no less improper to give the boy a habit of neglecting his duty except when he is allured to it by the hopes of reward. As he advances towards manhood, and attains the use of reason; you may admit him to greater familiarity, and allow him to follow his own inclinations more than at an earlier period: and if, instead of indulging all his freaks in childhood, you have carefully accustomed him to obedience and submission, without enforcing these by improper means, he will now be able to regulate his conduct with some degree of prudence.

But while caution is to be used in bestowing rewards and inflicting punishments; still rewards and punishments are indispensably necessary in the management of the child. Inspire your boy with a sense of shame, and with a generous thirst for praise. Care for and honour him when he does well; treat him with neglect when he acts amiss. This conduct will produce much better effects than if you were at one time to chide and beat him; at another, to reward him with a profusion of sweetmeats and playthings.

Think not that children are to be taught propriety of conduct by loading their memory with rules, directing them how to act on every particular occasion. Burden them not with rules, but impress them with habits.

Be not furious of forming them at too early an age, to all that politeness and propriety of manners which you wish to distinguish them when they become men. Let them be taught an easy, graceful carriage of body; but give yourself no concern, though they now and then blunder against the punctilios of good-breeding; time will correct their awkwardness.

With regard to that important question, whether children ought to be sent to a public school, or are likely to be better trained up in a domestic education? so impossible is it for one matter to extend his attention to a number of boys, and so likely is the contagion of vice to be caught among the crowd of a public school, that a private seems more favourable than a public education to virtue, and scarce less favourable to learning.

When you resolve to give your son a domestic education, be careful to regulate that domestic education in a judicious manner. Keep him at a distance from evil example; choose the most favourable seats for communicating instruction; strictly enforce obedience; but never by blows, except in case of obstinacy which you find otherwise incurable. If his engagements in life prevent the parent from superintending and directing his son's education personally, let him commit him to the care of a virtuous and judicious tutor. Let the tutor be rather a man of experience in the world than of profound learning; for it is more necessary that the pupil be formed for conducting himself with prudence in the world, and be fortified against those temptations to which he will be exposed when he enters upon active life, than that his head be stuffed with Latin and logic.

Here Mr Locke, notwithstanding that his own mind was stored with the treasures of Grecian and Roman literature, takes occasion to declare himself pretty freely against that application to ancient learning, which was then indispensible required in the education of youth. He considers languages and philosophy as rather having a tendency to render the youth unfit for acting a prudent and becoming part in life, than forming for it; and he therefore insists that these should be but in a subordinate degree the objects of his attention.

Let the tutor encourage the child under his care to a certain degree of familiarity; let the pupil be accustomed to give his opinion on matters relative to himself: let him be taught justice, by finding injustice to others prejudicial to himself; let him be taught liberality, by finding it advantageous; let him be rendered superior to teasing his parents or tutor with complaints, by finding his complaints unfavourably received. That you may teach him to restrain every foolish or irregular desire, be sure never to indulge his wishes, save when you find the indulgence proper for him, and convenient for yourself. Curiosity, how-

Vol. VI. Part I. Education, ever, is a principle which ought to be industriously roused in the breast of the child, and cherished there by meeting always the readiest gratification. However you may oppose the boy's inclinations in other things, yet refuse him not a proper portion of recreation: let him indulge in play, while he continues to play with keenness and activity; but suffer him not to loiter about in little indolence. To restrain your child from fool-hardy courage, point out to him the dangers to which it exposes him: to raise him above timorous cowardice, and inspire him with manly fortitude; accustom him from the earliest period of life to an acquaintance with such things as he is most likely to be afraid of: subject him now and then to pain, and expose him to danger; but let such trials be judiciously conducted.

Idleness or curiosity sometimes leads children to cruelty in their treatment of such animals as are placed within their power. Dogs, cats, birds, and butterflies, often suffer from their humanity. But when they seem inclined to such cruelty, let them be carefully watched, and let every means be used to awake their hearts to generous sensibility. Allow them to keep tame birds, dogs, &c., only on condition of their using them with tenderness. Perhaps this unhappy disposition to cruelty is occasioned, or at least fostered, by people's laughing when they behold the impotent efforts of children to do mischief; and often going so far as even to encourage them in maltreating those creatures which are within their reach. We entertain them, too, with stories of fighting and battles; and represent characters distinguished for atrocious acts of inhumanity as great and illustrious. But let such practice be carefully restrained from, if you wish to inspire your child with generous and humane sentiments. Teach him gentleness and tenderness, not only to brute animals, but also to servants and companions.

Curiosity is to be roused and cherished in the breast of the child: but by what means? Answer his inquiries readily: though his questions be put in awkward language, let not that hinder you from attending to the objects of them. Curiosity is natural to the human mind; and if you suppress not the curiosity of the child, he will often be moved by its impulse to the pursuit of knowledge. Let him find his eagerness in the pursuit of knowledge, a source of applause and esteem. Avoid the folly of those who sport with the credulity of children, by answering their questions in a ludicrous or deceitful manner.

You must, however, not only listen with obliging attention to his questions, and strive to gratify his curiosity; but even whenever he attempts to reason on such subjects as are offered to his observation, be careful to encourage him: praise him if he reasons with any degree of plausibility; even if he blunders, beware of ridiculing or laughing at him. With regard to the boy's play-things: while you indulge him freely in innocent diversions, give him such play-things as may be necessary in the amusements in which he engages, provided they be such as he cannot make himself; but it will be still better for him to exercise his dexterity and ingenuity in making them himself.

After throwing out these things concerning the general principles on which education should be carried on, Mr. Locke next proceeds to those particular parts of knowledge in which he thinks every young gentleman ought to be instructed. In virtue, wisdom, breeding, and learning, he comprehends all that is necessary to enable his pupil to act a respectable part in life.

In forming the boy to virtue, the first thing to be done, is to inform him of the relation subsisting between human creatures and a supreme independent Being, their creator, preserver, and governor; and to teach him, that obedience and worship are due to that Being. But when you inform the child of the existence of an invisible Being, beware of impressing his mind with any notions concerning spirits or goblins, which may render him incapable of bearing darkness or solitude. In infancy our minds are, by the indiscretion of those about us, generally impressed with such prejudices concerning a thousand frightful forms, ever ready to assail or haunt us under the shade of night, that we become incapable of manly fortitude during the course of life: the soldier who will boldly face death in the field of battle, shall perhaps tremble and take to flight at the rustling of a few leaves, or the grunting of a hog in the dark. But were the imaginations of children not crazed with wild stories concerning spirits and hobgoblins, darkness would be no more alarming to them than light. After informing the child of the existence of a Deity, and teaching him to pray to him; next labour to impress his mind with a veneration for truth, and habituate him to a strict adherence to it on every occasion. Endeavour also to render him gentle and good-natured.

The best means you can use to teach him wisdom or prudence in conducting himself in the ordinary business and intercourse of life, is to teach him to despise the mean shifts of cunning. The rest must be learned by actual experience in life.

The decencies of life, comprehended under the word Good Breeding, form no inconsiderable part of a good education. In teaching these, two things are to be attended to: Inspire the youth with a disposition to please and oblige all with whom he is conversant; next, teach him how to express that disposition in a becoming manner. Let boisterous roughness, haughty contempt of others, censoriousness, impertinent raillery, and a spirit of contradiction, be banished from his temper and behaviour. At the same time, beware of leading him to regard the mere forms of intercourse as a matter of the highest importance. Remember that genuine good-breeding is only an easy and graceful way of expressing good sense and benevolence in his conversation and deportment.

Mr. Locke, when he comes to give his opinion concerning those parts of learning which are proper to be taught a young gentleman, and the manner in which they ought to be communicated, advises to initiate the child in the art of reading, without letting him know that he is engaged about a matter of any importance, or learning an accomplishment which you are solicitous that he should acquire. Present it to him in the form of an amusement, or teach him to consider it as an high honour to be permitted to learn his alphabet; otherwise he will turn from it with disgust. When by insinuating arts you have allured him to apply to reading, put into his hands such books as are plain, entertaining, and instructive. Insist not on his reading over the bible; instead of gaining any advantage from an indiscriminate perusal. perusal of it at this period of life, he is likely to acquire the most confused notions of religion, and an indifference for the sacred volume during the rest of life; yet it may be highly proper to cause him to peruse some of its beautiful historical passages, and to familiarize him with its elegant and simple moral precepts. After learning to read his mother-tongue, the boy's attention ought to be next directed to the art of writing. The easiest way to teach him that art, is to get a plate engraved, after the model of any hand which you think most proper for his imitation. With this plate get a number of copies cast with red ink; the letters of these the learner may trace with his pen filled with black ink: and he will thus in a short time, and without much trouble to you or himself, acquire a decent hand. As drawing is useful on many occasions in life; if the boy be not naturally incapable of acquiring it, he may with great propriety dedicate some part of his time and attention to that art.

When the scholar has attained a tolerable degree of skill in writing, and in reading and speaking his native language, he must next begin an acquaintance with other languages. Among these, the first object of his study will naturally be the Latin. Yet let none waste their time in attempting to acquire a knowledge of Latin, but such as are designed for some of the learned professions, or for the life of a gentleman without a profession. To these last it may be useful; to others it is wholly unserviceable. But in learning the Latin tongue, a much happier method than burdening and perplexing him with rules of grammar, would be to make him speak it with a tutor who were sufficiently master of it for that purpose. Thus might he spend that time which is usually occupied in acquiring this language, in learning some other necessary branches of education. But if you cannot conveniently have the boy taught the language by the way of conversation, let the introductory books be accompanied with an English version, which he may have easy recourse to for the explanation of the Latin. Never perplex him with grammatical difficulties. Reflect that, at his age, it is impossible to enter into the spirit of those things. Render every thing as easy and pleasing as possible; for the attention will not fail to wander, even though you labour not to render the task disagreeable. Skill in grammar may be useful; but it is to those whose lives are to be dedicated to the study of the dead languages: that knowledge which the gentleman and the man of the world may have occasion to derive from the treasures contained in the ancient languages, may be acquired without a painful study of profody or syntax. As the learning of any language is merely learning words; if possible, let it be accompanied with the acquisition of some real knowledge of things; such as the nature of plants, animals, &c. their growth and propagation. But if you cannot or will not give your boy a private education, and are still resolved to send him to school, to be whipped through the usual course of Greek and Latin; at least act with so much good sense and humanity, as to insist that he be not burdened and tormented with the composition of Latin themes and verses. Neither let his memory be oppressed with whole pages and chapters from the classics. Such ridiculous exercises have no tendency, whatever prejudice may urge to the contrary, to improve him either in the knowledge of languages or of nature.

Mr Locke seems to wish that the French language, which in his days had attained to higher refinement and a more regular analogy than any of the other modern languages of Europe;—he seems to wish that the French were learned along with the Latin: and he wishes the study of these languages to be accompanied with the study of arithmetic, geography, history, and chronology. Let these branches of knowledge be communicated to the learner in one of the two languages; and he will thus acquire the language with greater facility. He next points out the advantages of the branches of knowledge which he recommends as proper to be learned together with the languages; but on that head he says nothing singular. One method which he recommends for facilitating the study of language is, to put into the youth's hands, as soon as he has acquired a tolerable knowledge of chronology, some of the most entertaining Latin historians; the interesting nature of the events which they relate will not fail to command his attention, in spite of the difficulty which he must find in making out their meaning. The Bible and Tully's Offices will be his best guides in the study of ethics. The law of nature and nations, as well as the civil and political institutions of his country, will form to him an important object, which he ought to study with the most careful attention. Rhetoric and logic, though generally regarded as objects of great importance in a liberal education, can neither of them contribute much, with all their rules and terms, to render him an acute reasoner or an eloquent speaker; and it is therefore unnecessary for him to honour them with very particular attention. Tully and Chillingworth will be more beneficial in teaching him to reason and to persuade, than all the treatises on rhetoric and logic which he can possibly peruse, or all the lectures on those arts which he can gain opportunities to hear. In every art and every science, practice and experience are infinitely better than rules. Natural philosophy, as contributing to inspire the breast with warmer sentiments of devotion, and serving also to many useful purposes in life, ought to make a part in the young gentleman's studies. But the humble experimental writers on that subject are to be put into his hands in preference to the lofty builders of systems. As for Greek, our pupil is not to be a professed scholar, but a gentleman and a man of the world; and therefore it does not appear necessary that Greek should make a part in the system of his education. But in none of these studies will the pupil ever attain any proficiency, unless he be accustomed to method and regularity in the prosecution of them. In languages, let him gradually ascend from what is simplest to what is most difficult: in history, let him follow the order of time; in philosophy, that of nature.

Dancing, as contributing to ease and gracefulness of carriage, ought to make a part in our young gentleman's education. Fencing and riding being fashionable, cannot well be denied him. As he is likely, in the course of life, to have some leisure hours on his hands, and to be sometimes disposed to active recreation, let him learn some mechanical trade, with the exercise exercise of which he may agreeably fill up some of those hours. If he is to possess any property, let him not be unkill'd in the management of accounts. Travel, instead of being useful, appears more likely to be hurtful to the understanding and morals of the traveller, unless deferred to a later period than that at which young men are usually sent out to complete their education by traversing through foreign countries.

Here Mr Locke concludes his work with observing, that he does not offer it to the world as a full or comprehensive treatise on the subject of education; but merely as the outlines of what occurred to him as most proper to be observed in breeding up a young gentleman not intended for any learned profession or mechanical employment, but for acting a respectable part in life at the head of a competent hereditary fortune.

In considering the sentiments of this respectable philosopher on the subject of education, we perceive, that as he was, on the one hand, superior to those prejudices which render us incapable of distinguishing the defects or absurdities of any custom or institution which has long prevailed; so, on the other hand, he was free from that silly vanity which disputes those who are subject to its influence to affect novelty and singularity of sentiment on every subject which they consider. Though a member of one of the universities, he hesitates not to declare himself against a very laborious attention to classical learning; and his reasoning is, through the whole of his treatise, rather plain and solid than subtle or refined.

Yet, however we respect the soundness of his understanding or the benevolence of his intentions, we cannot avoid observing, that his opinions are not always such as experience justifies. He had no doubt taken notice of some instances in which the too great anxiety of parents about the preservation of their children's health was the very means of rendering their constitution feeble and tender through the course of life; and from that circumstance might be led to propose those expedients which he mentions for preserving the health and strengthening the constitution of children. But a little more observation or inquiry would have easily convinced him, that some of his expedients, instead of strengthening the child's constitution, would in all probability shorten his days.

He had perhaps seen some of the heroes of classical literature, who were familiar with Demosthenes and Cicero, and had Homer and Virgil at their fingers ends,—he had seen some of those gentlemen so overloaded with their cargo of Greek and Latin as to be unfit for the ordinary business and intercourse of life; and such instances might tempt him to forget the advantages which he himself, and a long series of philosophers, patriots, and statesmen, with whose names the annals of our country are adorned, had derived from a regular classical education. But as we are afterwards to deliver our own sentiments on this subject, we will not here extend our observations on Mr Locke to a greater length.

An author more distinguished than Mr Locke, for tenderness of sentiment, singularity, eloquence, and whims, has presented the public with a work on the subject of education, in which he, with unexampled boldness, inveighs against all the established modes, as well as reprobates whatever had been advanced by former writers on the subject; and, at the same time, delineates a plan of education which he would persuade us is infinitely superior to those which he explodes. This writer is the amiable and pathetic Rousseau: And tho' he be often vain, paradoxical, and whimsical; yet the charm of genius and sentiment which adorns his writings will at least engage our attention while he unfolds his opinions.

He sets out with observing, that our business in the imprudent bringing up of children should be, to second and to manage call forth nature; and that, instead of this, we almost mean always oppose her intentions and operations. As soon children in as the child sees the light, he is wrapped in swathing bands. His limbs are thus restrained from that free motion which is necessary to their growth and vigour; and even the internal parts of his frame are rendered incapable of their proper functions. Mothers are too proud or indolent, or too fond of gaiety and dissipation, to submit to the task of nursing their own children. The poor infants are committed to some hireling nurse, who not being attached to them by natural affection, treats them with negligence or inhumanity. But is that mother capable of any delicacy of sentiment, who can permit another to fuckle her child, and to share with her, or perhaps wholly supplant her, in the filial affection of that child?

Again, when parents undertake the care of their infant children, they often injure them by mistaken tenderness. They pamper them with delicate meats, cover them with warm clothes, and anxiously keep them at a distance from all that has the appearance of danger; not attending to the economy of nature, who subjects us in infancy to a long train of epidemical distempers, and exposes us during the same period to innumerable dangers; the design of which doublets is, to teach us a prudent concern for our own safety, and to strengthen and confirm our constitutions.

A child no sooner enters into life, than it begins to cry; and during a great part of infancy continues frequently to shed tears. We either attempt to soothe it into good nature, or seek to silence it by harsher means; and it is thus we infuse into its infant mind those evil passions which we afterwards presume to impute to nature.

As the mother generally disdains to nurse her own child, so the father is seldom at leisure to take any share in the management of his education; he is put into the hands of a tutor. But that tutor whose time and attention can be purchased for money is unworthy of the charge. Either be yourself your son's preceptor, or gain a friend whose friendship to you shall be his sole motive to undertake the talk.

After a few preliminary observations to the above Manage-purport, our author introduces his Emilius; in whose merit of Education he delineates that plan which he prefers, milius du. The preceptor whom he would assign Emilius must be cy. young; and must dedicate his attention to Emilius alone, from the time when his pupil enters the world till he attain the full age of manhood. Emilius, to receive the full benefit of his preceptor's system of education, and to afford full scope to it, must possess a genius of the middle class; no prodigy of parts, nor singularly dull; he must have been born to affluent circumstances and an elevated rank in life. His preceptor is invested with the rights, and takes upon him the obligations, of both father and mother. Emilius is, when put into the hands of his preceptor, a well-shaped, vigorous, and healthy child. The first care of the preceptor is to provide him with a nurse, who, as he is new born, must be newly delivered; it is of still higher importance that she be clean, healthy, virtuous, and of mild dispositions. While fumbling her charge, she shall feed plentifully, chiefly on a vegetable diet. The child must be frequently bathed, in cold water if possible; if you begin with warm, however, use it by degrees colder and colder, till at length he is able to bear it entirely cold. He is not to be wrapped in swaddling-clothes or rollers, or bound with stay-bands; but put in good warm blankets and in a roomy cradle: Let him stretch and move his limbs at freedom, and crawl about on hands and knees at his pleasure. The greatest care must now be taken to prevent the child from contracting any habits whatever: Suffer him not to use one arm more than another, or to eat or sleep at stated hours. Prepare him for the enjoyment of liberty, by preserving to him the exercise of his natural abilities, unfettered by any artificial habits.

As soon as the child begins to distinguish objects, let his education begin. Some objects are naturally agreeable, others frightful. Accustom him to look upon any object that may come in his way without being affrighted. Children are at first ignorant of local relations, and learn to distinguish them only by experience; and while Emilius is yet an infant, incapable of speaking or walking, he may be assisted in acquiring the knowledge of these.

In his feeble helpless condition, the child must feel many wants and much uneasiness; tears are the language which nature has given him to make known his distresses and wants. When the child cries, it would be much more prudent and humane to examine what he suffers or stands in need of, than, as is usually done, to rock or sing him asleep; or, when these means succeed not, to threaten or use him brutally.

In managing children, as nature has endowed them with no superfluous powers, we ought not to confine them from the free use of those which they are able to exert. It is our duty to supply their deficiency both of mental and bodily powers; but while we are ready to administer on every occasion to their real wants, we must beware of gratifying their caprice or unreasonable humours. In order to distinguish between their natural and fantastic wants, we must study the language and signs by which they express their wishes and emotions. Though crying be the means which nature has given infants to enable them to procure relief or assistance, yet when they cry they are not always in need of either. They often cry from obstinacy or habits of peevishness. But if, instead of attempting to soothe them by diverting their attention to other objects, we would on such occasions entirely neglect them, they would soon cease to indulge in such fits of crying.

When children begin to speak, we are usually anxious about their language and articulation, and are every moment correcting their blunders. But instead of hoping to teach them purity or correctness of speech by such means as these, let us be careful to speak easily and correctly before them, and allow them to express themselves in the best manner they can. By such means we will be much more likely to obtain our wishes in this matter. When they speak, let us not listen with such solicitude as to relieve them from the necessity of using an open distinct articulation.

When the child attains the power of expressing himself in artificial language, he may then be considered as having reached the second period of infancy. He needs not now to make known his wants by tears, and should therefore be discouraged from the use of them. Let his tears be entirely neglected. He now begins to run about, and you are anxious to prevent him from hurting himself; but your anxiety can only render him peevish or timid. Remove him from any very alarming danger, and then suffer him to run about at his pleasure. He will now and then bleed, and hurt himself; but he will become bold, lively, and cheerful.

In regulating the conduct of your child, let him know that he is dependant; but require not of him an implicit submission to your will. Let his unreasonable demands be opposed only by his natural inability to gratify them, or by the inconveniences attending the gratification. When he asks what is necessary or reasonable, let him instantly obtain it; when he asks what is unreasonable or improper, lend a deaf ear to all his intreates and demands. Beware of teaching him to address you with If you please, unless he has been made to regard these as a set of magic syllables, by the use of which he may subject every person to his will. His If you please then means I please; pray, with him, stands for do. Though you put in his mouth the words of humility, his tone and air are those of authority that will be obeyed.

Sacrifice not the present happiness of your child for the sake of any distant advantage.

Be not too anxious to guard him against natural evil. The liberty which he enjoys while he is now and then permitted to expose himself to blows, or cold, or wetness, is more than a sufficient compensation for all that he thus suffers.

Seek not to impress him with ideas of duty or obligation. Till children reach the years of discretion, moral obligations are incapable of any notions of the distinctions of right and wrong. Avoid therefore even the use of the terms by which these are expressed in their hearing. While they continue to be affected only by sensible objects, seek not to extend their ideas beyond the sphere of sensation. Try all the powers of language, use the plainest and most familiar methods you can contrive; you shall still be unable to give the boy at this age just ideas of the distinction between right and wrong. He may readily conceive, that for one set of actions you will punish him, and that by another he will obtain your approbation; but farther than this his ideas of right and wrong, of virtue and vice, cannot yet be carried.

The powers of the human mind are gradually unfolded. At first, the infant is capable only of perception; by and by, his instincts and passions begin to exert their force; at length, as he advances towards manhood, reason begins to act, and he becomes able to feel the beauty of virtue and the deformity of vice.

But though you seek not to regulate his conduct by by notions of duty, yet let him feel the yoke of necessity. Let him know, that as he is weaker than you, he must not, therefore, expect that you should be subject to his will; and that, as he has neither skill nor strength to control the laws of nature, and make every object around him bend to his pleasure, he cannot hope to obtain the gratification of all his wishes. Thus you teach him virtue before he knows what virtue is; and call forth his reason without misleading or perverting it. Let him feel his impotence; but forbid him not to think, that if he had power there would be no reason why he might not at pleasure even turn the world upside down.

Hitherto you have given your pupil no verbal instructions, nor must you yet attempt to instruct him by any other means than experience; let all his knowledge be literally of his own acquisition.

Let not the parent who has observed the conduct of children brought up in the usual way be afraid that, if his child should be treated like our pupil, he would become stupid and vicious. Nature lends not human beings into the world with a predisposition to vice; we sow the seeds of it in the infant heart; and by our absurd modes of treatment, we also enfeeble and pervert the powers of the understanding.

But from the hour of his birth till he attain the age of twelve, the education of Emilius shall be purely negative. Could we but bring him up healthy and robust, and entirely ignorant, till that period, the eyes of his understanding would then be open to every lesson: free from the influence of habit and prejudice, his passions would not then oppose us; and we might render him the wisest and most virtuous of men. If we can but lose time, if we can but advance without receiving any impressions whatever, our gains are unspeakable. Nature gives the powers of every mind some particular direction: but that particular bias, impressed by the hand of nature, cannot be distinguished before the period we have mentioned; and if you counteract nature, instead of seconding her views, the consequences cannot but be highly unfavourable both to the heart and the understanding of your pupil.

Perhaps, in the midst of society, it may be difficult to bring up our pupil without giving him some idea of the relations between man and man, and of the morality of human actions. Let that, however, be deferred as long as possible.

Were Emilius to witness a scene of anger, and to ask the cause of the appearances which he beheld, he should be told that the persons were affected with a fit of sudden illness. We might thus perhaps prevent the unhappy effects of such an example.

The first moral notions which should be communicated to the child are those of property. To communicate the ideas of property to our pupil, we will direct him to take possession of something; for instance, of a piece of ground belonging to some other person, and in a state of cultivation. Let him cultivate this spot of ground anew, sow it with seeds, and look eagerly forward to the time of harvest in the hopes of reaping the fruit of his labours. In the mean time, let the proprietor of the ground take notice of what is done, destroy your pupil's rising crop, and complain of the injustice done him. While the boy laments his loss and the disappointment of his hopes, in all the bitterness of grief, let the proprietor of the ground still insist on the injury done him, and complain of what he suffers by the purpose for which he himself had cultivated and sown the ground being frustrated. Our pupil, now sensible of the reasonableness of the other's claims, will desist from his lamentations, and only beg to have some other spot assigned him which he may cultivate at his pleasure without offending any person. This he will justly consider as his own property, to the productions of which raised by his own labour he has an exclusive right, and in the occupying of which none ought to molest him. In some such manner as this may the nature of property, the idea of which easily refers in this instance to the first occupier, and afterwards the exchange of property, be explained to him.

Another instance of the manner in which the pupil is now to be managed may not be improper in this place. He is possibly so rude and boisterous as to spoil or break whatever is within his reach. Be not angry with him, however, if he break the utensils which he has constant need of; be in no haste to supply him with others in their room; let other things be removed out of his way: if he break the windows of his apartment, let him be exposed night and day to the cold; complain not of the inconvenience yourself, but order matters so that he may feel it. After some time, let them be mended up; and if he break them again, change your method. Tell him calmly, "These windows are mine; I took care to have them put there; and I will prevent their being again broken, by confining you in a dark room." Let all his endeavours to avoid this prove ineffectual. Let him be actually confined, and be liberated only on proposing and agreeing to the condition of breaking no more windows. When he proposes this condition, be ready to listen to him; observe that it is well thought on, and that it is a pity he did not think of it sooner. Consider this engagement between you as sacred; treat him as before, and you cannot fail to attain the end in view.

The moral world now opens to us: But no sooner are we able to distinguish between right and wrong, than we become deafened to conceal those instances in which we act wrong. Lying is therefore a vice of which your pupil is now apt to be guilty: you cannot always prevent, but you can punish; but let the punishments which you inflict appear to the child only the natural consequences of his conduct. If he is in any instance convicted of a lie, let his assertions no longer gain credit. By this means, sooner than by precepts, or any other species of punishment, will you be able to reclaim him from the habit of lying.

The methods generally taken to render children virtuous are preposterous and foolish. To render them generous and charitable, we give them money, and bid them bestow it in alms, while we ourselves give nothing; but the parent or master, and not the child, should bestow the alms. Example might produce the wished-for effect. Besides, children are strangers to the value of money. A gingerbread cake is more to them than a hundred guineas. Though you teach them to give away money, till you persuade them to part readily with those things which they value most, you do not inspire them with generosity. Would you make them liberal by showing them that the most liberal is always best provided for; this is to teach covetousness, not liberality. Example is the only means by which you can, at this period, hope to teach your pupil any of the virtues.

The only lesson of morality that can with any propriety be inculcated on children, is to injure no person. Even the positive precept of doing good, must be considered as subordinate to this negative one of doing no harm. The most virtuous and the most exalted of characters, is the man who does the least harm to his fellow-creatures.

In a public education, it will be necessary to attempt the communication of moral instruction at an earlier period than in a private one. In a private education, it will always be best to allow the moral powers of children to ripen as much as possible before you endeavour to inform and direct them by precepts.

There is an inequality among geniuses; and fond mothers and fathers may be disposed to plead for exceptions in favour of such of their children as they view with a partial eye. "This boy's mind is more capacious, his powers are riper, than those of others." But however great the seeming disparity of geniuses may be, it is at bottom but inconsiderable. Let the age of children be therefore regarded as a common measure by which their treatment is to be regulated.

However quick and tenacious the memories of children may seem, they can derive little advantage from the exertions of memory till such time as judgment begins to act. All the knowledge that they acquire in the course of the usual system of education, is merely the knowledge of words. The languages, geography, chronology, in short all that they are taught, and called to display so ostentatiously at this period of life, serve no other purpose than to fill their minds with words.

History is esteemed a proper thing to be put into the hands of children. But except you wish to confine their attention to the external and physical actions, it is almost nothing they can acquire by the perusal of it. And if divested of the moral distinctions of actions, of the workings of the passions, and the complication of interests, what is there to render history entertaining? We may indeed easily teach them to repeat the words kings, emperors, wars, conquests, revolutions, laws: but of the things which you use these words to denote, you will find they are hitherto incapable of forming any clear ideas.

But the mere knowledge of words is not science; make your pupil acquainted with things, and he will not fail to acquire their names. Emilius must never be let to get any composition by heart, not even fables: be careful to place before him those scenes and objects, the images of which it may be useful for him to have impressed on his memory; but by no other means seek to assist him to improve that faculty.

Emilius shall not even learn to read till he attain the age of twelve: for, before that period, it can be of no benefit to him; and the labour would only make him unhappy during that period of life which is naturally the golden part of our days. But when he has attained the proper age, matters shall be so ordered, that he shall find his ignorance of letters an inconvenience. A card shall be sent him, which being unable to read, he will apply to some of those about him. They may be unwilling to oblige him, or otherwise engaged. If, at length, it is read to him, that may be when it is now too late to take advantage of some agreeable invitation which it contained. This may be two or three times repeated. At length he becomes eager to learn to read; and accomplishes that almost without affiance.

The principle on which we proceed, is to leave the pupil almost wholly under his own direction, seemingly at least; to lead him to acquire new accomplishments, solely from the desire of increasing his powers, and extending his influence; and humbly to follow nature, not to force her.

As we are desirous of cultivating his understanding, the means which we employ for that purpose is, to cultivate those abilities on which it depends; he is always active and in motion. Let us first make him a man in point of health and vigour, and he will soon become a man in understanding.

By our constant attention to the welfare of children, we render it unnecessary for them to attend to it themselves. What occasion has your son or pupil to observe whether the aspect of the sky threaten rain, when he knows that you will take care to have him sheltered from a shower? or to regulate the length of his excursions, when he is sure that you will not suffer him to lose his dinner?

While matters are so ordered that Emilius thinks himself subject only to his own will, though all his motions are regulated according to your pleasure; instead of becoming fantastic and capricious, he insensibly acquires the habit of keeping utility in view in all his actions.

The first objects which engage the attention of children are the appearances of the material world around them: our first study is a kind of experimental philosophy; our instruments and instructors are our hands, our feet, and our eyes. By exercising these bodily organs, the boy will acquire more real knowledge even in the period of childhood, than if we should dedicate nine-tenths of his time to books, from the age of six to sixty. All who have examined, with any facility, the characters, circumstances, and manners of the ancients, have agreed in attributing to their gymnastic exercises that superior strength of body and mind which renders them objects of admiration to the moderns.

Our pupil's clothes cannot be too light and easy. If tight and close, they fetter and confine his joints and limbs, and likewise obstruct the circulation of the blood; if accustomed to warm clothing, he will soon become incapable of bearing cold.

In every thing let him be habituated to what is plain and hardy. Let his bed be coarse and hard, his clothes plain, his fare simple. Infants must be freely indulged in sleep: but as Emilius is now advanced beyond infancy, he must be accustomed at times to go to bed late and get up early, to be sometimes hastily waked from sleep; and thus to prepare himself for what he may afterwards have occasion to submit to in the course of life.

As this period is in a particular manner that of exercise, and Emilius is encouraged to take as much exercise as he chooses; we must endeavour to prompt, but without seeming to direct him to such as are most proper. Swimming, though not generally attended to, is yet one of the first which a boy ought to learn. It may, in many occasions in life, be of the greatest advantage, by enabling us to save our own life or the life of others. Emilius shall be taught to swim; he shall be taught whatever can really enlarge the sphere of his power: "could I teach him to fly in the air, I would make him an eagle; if to bear the fire, a salamander."

To exercise the senses is not merely to make use of them; it is to learn to judge by them. Call not your pupil to exert all his strength on every occasion; but let him learn to judge of the truth of the information which he receives from one sense, by having recourse to the evidence of another.

It is not impossible to improve the senses to an higher degree of perfection than that which they usually attain. Blind men generally possess the sense of touch in a more exquisite degree, than we who have also eyes to guide and inform us. But they acquire this superior delicacy and acuteness of sensation, only by their finding it necessary to have more frequent recourse to the information of that sense. Here is then a wide field for improvement and agreeable exercise to our pupil.

What a variety of useful diversions might he be led to entertain himself with in the course of the night. The hours of darkness are generally hours of terror, not only to men, but also to the brute animals. Even reason, knowledge, and courage, are not always sufficient to render us superior to the terror which darkness inspires.

This timidity is usually attributed to the tales of ghosts and goblins with which we are frightened in infancy. But it originates from another cause; our ignorance of what is passing around us, and our inability to distinguish objects during that period of darkness. The passion of fear was implanted by nature in the human breast, in order that it might serve to put us on our guard against danger. But in consequence of our being subject to the influence of that passion, when we are ignorant of what surrounds us, imagination calls up dangers on all hands. And such is the cause from which our terror in darkness naturally arises.

But the only way to free our pupil from this tyranny of imagination, is to oppose to it the power of habit. A bricklayer or tyler is never giddy on looking down from the roofs of houses. Neither will our pupil be alarmed by the terrors of darkness, if he be accustomed to go frequently abroad at night. It is easy to contrive a number of little amusements, the agreeableness of which may, for a time, overcome our pupil's aversion for darkness; and thus may a habit be at length impressed.

Let us give yet another instance of the means by which children may be led to do what we wish, without imposing any restraint on their will. Suppose Emilius is lazy and inactive, and we wish to make him learn to run. When walking out with the young sluggard after dinner, I would sometimes put a couple of his favourite cakes in my pocket; of these each of us should eat one in the course of our walk. After some time I would show him I had put a third cake in my pocket. This he would not fail to ask after finishing his own: no, says I, I can eat it myself; or we will divide it;—or stay, we had better let these two little boys there run a race for it. Accordingly I propose the race to the boys; who readily accept the conditions, and one of them carries off the prize. After seeing this several times repeated, Emilius begins to think himself qualified to obtain the third cake as well as any of the little boys, and to look upon running as an accomplishment of some consequence. He seeks an opportunity of being permitted to enter the lists. He runs; and after being two or three times outstripped, is at length successful, and in a short time attains an undoubted superiority.

As children naturally imitate almost whatever they behold, they are often disposed to attempt drawing. In this our pupil might be indulged, not merely for the sake of the art, but to give him a steady hand and a good eye. But he should draw from nature, not from other drawings or from prints. Were he to draw the likeness of a horse, he should look at the animal; if to attempt a representation of a house, he should view the house itself. In this method he will, no doubt, scratch for a long time without producing any likeness; but he will acquire what we proposed as the ends of his attempting to draw; namely, steadiness of hand and justness of sight, by this method, sooner than by any others.

Geometry, when taught in the usual way, is certainly above the capacity of children; they cannot go along with us in our reasonings: Yet they are not totally incapable of acquiring even this difficult science; if, when they are prosecuting their amusements, you lead them insensibly to observe the properties of the circle, the triangle, and the square, and place them now and then in circumstances when they may have occasion to apply their knowledge of these to real uses in life.

A child has been taught the various relations between the outlines, surfaces, and contents of bodies, by having cakes set before him, cut into all manner of regular solids; by which means he was led to master the whole science of Archimedes, by studying which form contained the greatest quantity.

There is a period between infancy and the age of puberty at which the growth and improvement of our faculties exceed the increase of our desires. About 12 or 13, when the appetite for the sex has not yet begun to make itself felt, when unnatural wants are yet unknown, no false appetites yet acquired; at that period, though weak as a man, as a child the youth is strong.

This interval, when the individual is able to effect more than is necessary for the gratification of his wishes, contains the most precious moments of his life, which ought to be anxiously filled up in an useful manner. This is the best time for employment, for instruction, for study.

Now, let us begin to consider what is useful; for, hitherto, we have only inquired what was necessary. In entering on our studies, we will make no account of any but such as instinct directs us to pursue: those which the pedants and the pretended philosopher are im- Education impelled to pursue solely from the desire of attracting the admiration of mankind, are unworthy of our notice.

The earth which we inhabit, and the sun by whose beams we are enlightened, are the first objects which claim our attention. We will therefore direct the attention of our pupil to the phenomena of nature. We will lead him to the knowledge of geography, not by maps, spheres, and globes; we will lead Emilius out on some beautiful evening to behold the setting sun. Here we take particular notice of such objects as mark the place of his going down. Next morning we visit the spot to contemplate the rising of the glorious luminary. After contemplating for some time the successive appearances which the scene before us affords, and making Emilius observe the hills and the other surrounding objects, I stand silent a few moments, affecting to be occupied in deep meditation. At last I address him thus: "I am thinking, that, when the sun set last night, it went down yonder; whereas this morning, you see he is risen on the opposite of the plain here before us. What can be the meaning of this?" I say nothing more at this time, but rather endeavour to direct his attention to other objects.

This is our first lesson in cosmography.

Our last observation was made about Midsummer; we will next view the rising sun on some fine morning in the middle of winter. This second observation shall be made on the very same spot which we chose for the former. When Emilius and I perceive the sun now emerging above the horizon, we are struck at the change of the place of his rising.—By such lessons as these may the pupil be gradually taught a real, not a seeming, acquaintance with the relative motions of the sun and the planets and with geography.

During the first period of childhood, the great object of our system of education was to spend our time as idly as possible, in order that we might avoid employing it to an ill purpose; but our views are now changed with our pupil's progress in life; and we have scarce enough of time for the accomplishment of our necessary pursuits. We therefore proceed as quickly as possible in making ourselves acquainted with the nature of the bodies around us, and the laws by which their motions and appearances are regulated. We keep to this study at present, as being necessary for the most important purposes in life, and as being the most suitable to the present state of our pupil's powers. We still begin with the most common and obvious phenomena of nature, regarding them as mere facts; and, advancing from these, we come to generalize by degrees.

As soon as we are so far advanced as to be able to give our pupil an idea of what is meant by the word useful, we have attained a considerable influence over his future conduct. On every occasion after this frequent question between us will be, Of what use is that? This shall be the instrument by means of which I shall now be able to render him absolutely submissive to my wishes. However, I will allow him to make use of it in his turn, and will be careful not to require of him to do or learn any thing the utility of which he cannot comprehend.

Books only teach people to talk about what they do not understand. Emilius shall have as little recourse as possible to books for instruction. Yet if we can find a book in which all the natural wants of man are displayed in a manner suitable to the understanding of a child, and in which the means of satisfying those wants are gradually displayed with the same ease and simplicity; such a book will be worthy of his most attentive study. There is such a book to be found; but it is neither Aristotle, nor Pliny, nor Buffon; it is Robinson Crusoe. Emilius shall have the adventures of Robinson put into his hands; he shall imitate his example; even affect his dress; and, like Robinson, learn to provide for himself without the aid of others.

Another employment of Emilius at this period shall be, to visit the shops of various artisans; and when he enters a shop, he shall never come out without lending a hand to the work, and understanding the nature and the reason of what he sees going forward.

Still, however, we are careful to afford not a hint concerning those social relations the nature of which he is not yet able to comprehend.

The value and importance of the various arts are ordinarily estimated, not according to their real utility, but by a very injudicious mode of estimation. Those which contribute in a particular manner to the gratification of the fantastic wishes of the rich, are preferred to those which supply the indispensable necessities of life. But Emilius shall be taught to view them in a different light. Robinson Crusoe shall teach him to value the stock of a petty ironmonger above that of the most magnificent toy-shop in Europe. Let us establish it as a maxim, that we are to lead our pupil to form just notions of things for himself, not to dictate to him ours. He will estimate the works both of nature and art by their relation to his own convenience; and will therefore regard them as more precious than gold—a shoemaker or a mason, as a man of more importance than the most celebrated jeweller in Europe.

The intercourse of the arts consists in the reciprocal exchange of industry; that of commerce, in the exchange of commodities; and that of money, in the exchange of bills and cash. To make our pupil comprehend the nature of these, we have now only to generalize and extend to a variety of examples those ideas of the nature of property, and of the exchange of property, which we formerly communicated to him. The nature of money, as bearing only a conventional value, which it derives from the agreement of men to use it as a sign for facilitating commerce, may be now explained to Emilius, and will be easily comprehended by him. But go no farther: seek not yet to explain to the child in what manner money has given rise to the numerous chimeras of prejudice and caprice; nor how countries which abound most in gold and silver, come to be the most destitute of real wealth.

Still our views are directed to bring up our pupil in such a manner that he may be qualified to occupy any place in the order of society into which even the caprice of fortune can throw him. Let us make him a man; not a slave, a lord, or a monarch. How much superior the character of a king of Syracuse turned schoolmaster Education-schoolmaster at Corinth, of a king of Macedon become a notary at Rome, to an unhappy Tarquin incapable of supporting himself in a state of independence when expelled from his kingdom!

Whatever be our situation in the world, we can contribute nothing but our personal abilities to society. To exert them is therefore the indispensable duty of every one who enjoys the advantages of a social state; and to cultivate them in our pupil to the best purpose, ought to be the great aim of every course of education.

Emilius has already made himself familiar with all the labours of husbandry; I can therefore bid him cultivate the land which he inherits from his father. But if it should be lost, what shall be his resource? He shall learn a trade, that he may be provided against such an accident. And he shall not be a politician, a painter, a musician, or an architect; to gain employment for his talents in any of these arts, would cost him no less trouble than to regain his lost estate. He shall learn some simple mechanical art: he will then need only to step into the first shop he sees open, to perform his day's labour, and receive his wages.

It may be here proper to take notice of a mistake into which people generally fall in determining the trade or profession in which they are to place their children. Some accident disposes the child to declare himself for a particular employment; the parent regards that as the employment to which his talents are fitted by the design of nature; and permits him to embrace it without inquiring whether another would have been more suitable or advantageous. But because I am pleased with my occupation, I am not on that account necessarily qualified for it. Inclinations do not confer abilities. It requires more careful and accurate observation than is generally imagined, to distinguish the particular taste and genius with which nature has endowed the mind of a child. We view him carelessly, and of consequence we are apt to mistake casual inclination for original disposition.

But Emilius needs not now to hesitate about the occupation which he is to choose. It is to be some mechanical employment. All the distinction we have now to make is, to prefer one that is cleanly and not likely to be injurious to his health. We shall make choice of that of a joiner. We cannot dedicate all our time to the trade; but at least for two days in the week we will employ ourselves in learning our trade. We will have no workshop erected for our convenience, nor will we have a joiner to wait on us in order to give us the necessary instructions: but for the two days in every week which we dedicate to the purpose of learning a trade, we will go to our master's workshop; we will rise before him in the morning; work according to his orders; eat at his table; and, after doing ourselves the honour of supping with his family, return to our own hard mattresses at night. We shall be treated only according to the merit of our performances. Our master shall find fault with our work when clumsily or negligently done, and be pleased with it only when well executed.

While my pupil has been accustomed to bodily exercise and manual labour, his education has been hitherto conducted in such a manner as to give himensibly a taste for reflection and meditation. Before he has been long a workman, therefore, he will begin to become more sensible of that inequality of ranks which takes place in the order of society. He will therefore take notice of his own dependence, and of my apparent wealth, and will be desirous to know why I contribute not my personal exertions to society. I put off the question with telling him, that I bestow my superfluous wealth on him and the poor; and will take to make a bench or table every week, that I may not be quite useless to the public.

And now when about to enter the most critical progressive period of life, when just on the brink of that age at which the heart and blood begin to feel the impulse of made beauty, what progress has our pupil made? For the what knowledge has he acquired? All his science is of purely physical. Hitherto he has scarcely acquired any beauty. Ideas of moral relations; but the essential relations between men and things he has attentively studied. He knows the general qualities of certain bodies; but upon those qualities he has not attempted to reason. He has an idea of abstract space, by means of geometrical figures; of abstract quantity, by means of algebraical signs. He has no desire to find out the essence of things; their relations alone interest him. He values nothing external but from its relation to himself. The general consent of mankind, or the caprice of custom, have not yet given anything a value in his eyes; utility alone is his measure of estimation. He is laborious, temperate, patient, resolute, and bold. His imagination never exaggerates danger. He scarce knows as yet what death is; but should it approach him, he is prepared to submit to necessity. He is virtuous in every thing relative merely to himself. He is prepared to become a virtuous member of society as soon as he shall be made acquainted with the nature of his social relations. He is free from vice and error as far as is possible for human nature. He considers himself as unconnected with others; requires nothing from any person, and thinks none has a right to require anything of him. Sure a youth arrived thus at his fifteenth year has not mispent the period of his infancy.

But now our pupil has reached the most critical period of life. He now feels the influence of the passions so as to be for the sex; and as soon as we become subject to the influence of that passion, we are no longer unsocial at that being. The want of a mistress soon produces the age.

As hitherto we have been careful not to force or anticipate nature, so even now our attention must be directed to divert the impulses of that dangerous appetite which now begins to make itself felt. To confine the growing passions within proper limits, let it be our care to defer as long as possible the time at which they begin to display themselves. For this purpose, let us cautiously guard our words and actions in the presence of our pupil. Let us be careful to give him no premature instructions.

To excite and cherish that sensibility of mind which now first begins to show itself, to extend the care of the youth beyond himself, and to interest him in the welfare of his fellow creatures; let us be careful to put such objects in his way as have a tendency to call forth and refine the feelings. It is not possible for the human heart to sympathise with those who are happier than ourselves: our sympathy is moved only by the sight of misery. We pity in others only those distresses. Education. ses to which we ourselves are liable; and our pity for the misfortunes of others is measured, not by the quantity of the evil, but by the supposed sensibility of the sufferer. Let these observations serve to direct us in what manner we are to form the minds of children to humanity and compassion.

In prosecution of our design, to retard rather than accelerate the growth of the passions, let us, when that critical period which we have so much feared comes on, exclude him as much as possible from the intercourse of society, where so many objects appear to inflame the appetites. Let us be circumspect in the choice of his companions, his employment, his pleasures. Let all our care be directed to nourish his sensibility without inflaming his desires. As his moral powers now begin to unfold themselves, in cultivating them, let us proceed not by way of lecture, or by directing his attention to books, but still by leading him to acquire experience. At length the period will arrive for communicating to him some religious instruction. When he knows the nature of his relations to society, he may be informed of his relation to and dependence upon a Deity.

[The creed of the Savoyard curate, containing those sentiments concerning religious matters which Rousseau seems to propose as the most proper to be inculcated on his pupil, comes next in the order of the work; but it does not appear to be so closely connected with the subject of education as to render it proper for us to give a view of it in this place. The sentiments which he there advances, the reasonsings which he urges, are evidently hostile to revealed religion; and the power of his eloquence has adorned slight and superficial arguments with such a charm, that even the sternest believer, if not absolutely destitute of taste and feeling, must read them with delight.]

And now, notwithstanding all my arts, I can no longer keep back that moment which I have endeavoured to defer to as late a period as possible. As soon as I perceive that it has certainly arrived, I no longer treat Emilius as my pupil or disciple, but as my friend. His affections are now expanded beyond himself; his moral powers have begun to exert themselves, and have received some cultivation; he also is become capable of religious sentiments, and instructed in the nature of his relation to a supreme Being. Besides, it is now requisite, if we consider the period to which nature has conducted him, that he should no longer be treated as a simple child. Hitherto ignorance has been his guardian, but now he must be restrained by his own good sense.

Now is the time for me to give him in my accounts; to show him in what manner his time and mine have been employed; to acquaint him with his station and mine, with our obligations to each other, his moral relations, the engagements he has entered into with regard to others, the degree of improvement which he has attained, the difficulties he will hereafter meet with, and the means by which he may surmount them:—in a word, to point out to him his critical situation, and the new perils which surround him; and to lay before him all the solid reasons which should engage him to watch with the utmost attention over his conduct, and to be cautious of indulging his youthful desires.

Books, solitude, idleness, a sedentary and effeminate life, the company of women and young people, are what he must carefully avoid at this age. He has learned a trade, he is not unskilled in agriculture; employed to these may be means, but not our only means, for preserving him from the impulse of sensual desire. He is the purity now too familiar with these; he can exercise them without taking the trouble to reflect; and while his hands are busy, his head may be engaged about something quite different from that in which he is employed. He must have some new exercise which may at once fix his attention and cause him to exert his bodily powers. We can find none more suitable for this purpose than hunting. Now, therefore, Emilius shall eagerly join in the chase; and though I do not wish him to acquire that cruelty of disposition and ferocity of temper which usually distinguish those who dedicate their lives to that barbarous diversion, yet at present it may have the happiest effects in suspending the influence of the most dangerous of passions.

When I have now conducted my pupil so far; have informed him of what I have done for him, and of the difficulty of his situation; and have resigned my authority into his hands; he is so sensible of the dangers to which he is exposed, and of the tender solicitude with which I have watched over him, that he still wishes to continue under my direction. With some feigned difficulty I again resume the reins. My authority is now established. I may command obedience; but I endeavour to guard against the necessity of using it in this manner.

To preserve him from indulging in licentious pleasures, I let him know that nature has designed us for living in a state of marriage, and invite him to go in search of a female companion. I will describe to him the woman whom he is to consider as worthy of his attachment in the most flattering colours. I will array her in such charms, that his heart shall be hers before he has once seen her. I will even name her: her name shall be Sophia. His attachment to this imaginary fair one will preserve him from all the allurements of unlawful love. Besides, I take care to inspire him with such reverence for himself, that notwithstanding all the fury of his desires, he will not condescend to pursue the enjoyments of debauchery. And though I may now sometimes entrust him to his own care, and not seek to confine him always under my eye; yet still I will be cautious to watch over his conduct with careful circumspection.

But as Emilius is to be shortly introduced to his Sophia, it may perhaps be proper for us to inquire into her character, and in what manner she has been brought up.

There is a natural difference between the two sexes. Distinctive The difference in the structure of their bodies shows characters them to be destined by nature for different purposes in life, and must necessarily occasion a distinction between their characters. It is vain to ask which of them merits the pre-eminence: each of them is peculiarly fitted to answer the views of nature. Woman is naturally weak and timid, man strong and courageous; the one is a dependent, the other a protector. As the guardian of her virtue, and a restraint on her desires, woman is armed with native modesty. Reason is the guide and governor of man. When a man and a wo- man are united by conjugal vows, a violation of those vows is evidently more criminal in the woman than in the man. The wife ought to be answerable for the genuineness of the offspring with which she has been entrusted by nature. It is no doubt barbarous and wicked for the husband to defraud his wife of the only reward which she can receive for the severe duties of her sex; but the guilt of the faithless wife is still more atrocious; and the consequences of her infidelity are still more unhappy.

But if nature has established an original distinction between the characters of the two sexes; has formed them for different purposes, and assigned them different duties; it must follow, that the education of the one sex ought to be conducted in a manner different from that of the other. The abilities common to the two sexes are not equally divided between them; but if that share which nature has distributed to woman be scantier than what she has bestowed on man, yet the deficiency is more than compensated by the qualities peculiar to the female. When the woman confines herself to assert her proper rights, she has always the advantage over man; when she would usurp those of the other sex, the advantage is then invariably against her.

But we require not that woman should be brought up in ignorance. Let us consider the delicacy of her sex, and the duties which she is destined to perform; and to these we may accommodate the education which we bestow upon her. While boys like whatever is attended with motion and noise, girls are fond of such decorations as please the eye. Dolls are the favourite plaything of the sex in their infant years. This is an original taste, of the existence of which we have the plainest evidence. All therefore that we ought to do is, to trace and bring it under proper regulation. Allow the girl to decorate her baby in whatever manner she pleases; while employed about that, she will acquire such skill and dexterity in those arts which are peculiar to her sex, that with scarce any difficulty she will acquire needle-work, embroidery, and the art of working lace. Her improvements may even be extended as far as designing, an art somewhat connected with taste in dress; but there is no reason that their skill in this art should be carried farther than to the drawing of foliage, fruits, flowers, drapery, and such parts of the art as bear some relation to dress. Always assign reasons for the employment which you give to young girls, but be sure you keep them constantly busy. They ought to be accustomed to laborious industry, as well as to bear the abridgment of their liberty. Use every art to prevent their work from becoming disagreeable to them. For that purpose, let the mother be careful to make herself agreeable. A girl who loves her mother or her aunt, will work cheerfully by them all day; while she to whom her mother is not dearer than all the world besides, seldom turns out well. Never suffer girls, even at their diversions, to be entirely free from restraint, nor allow them to run from one amusement to another. If you now and then detect your daughter using a little artifice to excuse herself from obedience, reflect that artifice is, in a certain degree, natural to the fair sex; and as every natural inclination, when not abused, is upright and good, why should it not be cultivated? In order to give girls proper notions of dress, let them be taught to consider splendor and elegance of dress as designed only to conceal the natural defects of the person; and to regard it as the noblest triumph, the highest praise, of beauty, to shine with unborrowed lustre in the simplest attire. Forbid not young women to acquire those arts which have a tendency to render them agreeable. Why refuse them the indulgence of learning to dance, to sing, and to study such other accomplishments as afterwards enable them to entertain their husbands? Girls are more disposed to prattle, and at an earlier age, than boys. We may now and then find it necessary to restrain their volubility. But the proper question to them on such occasions is not, as to boys, Of what use is this? but, What effects will this produce? At this early period, when they are yet strangers to the distinction between good and evil, and therefore unable to form a just judgment concerning any person's conduct, we ought to restrain them carefully from saying what may be disagreeable to those with whom they converse.

Girls are no less incapable than boys of forming distinct notions of religion at an early age. Yet, and even for that very reason, religious instruction should be communicated to them much sooner than to the youth of the other sex. Were we to wait the period when their mental faculties arrive at maturity, we might perhaps lose the happiest time, from our inability to make a right distinction. Since a woman's conduct is subject to public opinion, her belief ought therefore to depend, not on reason, but on authority. Every girl ought to follow the religion of her mother, every married woman that of her husband. They cannot derive a rule of faith from their own inquiry. Let us therefore seek, not so much to instruct them in the reasons of our belief, as to give them clear distinct notions of those articles which we require them to believe. Be more careful to instruct her in those doctrines which have a connection with morality, than in those mysterious articles which we are required to believe, though we cannot comprehend them.

Such are the principles on which the education of Emilius's unknown mistress has been conducted.

[Notwithstanding the merit of that part of this treatise in which the author entertains us with the courtship between his Emilius and Sophia, it does not appear to be so intimately connected with the subject of education as to render it proper for us to present our readers with a view of it. We therefore pass over the courtship, to give a view of our author's sentiments concerning the advantages to be derived from travelling, and the manner in which it ought to be directed.]

When Emilius has formed a firm attachment to Sophia, and by his affinities has been so fortunate as to gain her affections, his great wish now is, to be united with her in the bonds of marriage. But as he is still young, is but imperfectly acquainted with the nature of those duties incumbent on him as a member of a particular society, and is even ignorant of the nature of laws and government, I must separate him from his Sophia, and carry him to gain a knowledge of these things, and of the character and circumstances of mankind, in various countries, and under various forms of civil government, by travelling. Much has been said Education concerning the propriety of sending young people to travel, in order to complete their education. The multiplicity of books is unfavourable to real knowledge. We read with avidity, and think that by reading we render ourselves prodigiously wise. But we impose on ourselves: the knowledge which we acquire from books is a false species of knowledge, that can never render us truly wise.

To obtain real knowledge, you must observe nature with your own eyes, and study mankind. But to gain this knowledge by travelling, it is not necessary that we should traverse the universe. Whoever has seen ten Frenchmen, has beheld them all; and whoever has surveyed and compared the circumstances and manners of ten different nations, may be said to know mankind.

To pretend that no advantages may be derived from travelling, because some of those who travel return home without having gained much real improvement, would be highly unreasonable. Young people who have had a bad education, and are sent on their travels without any person to direct or superintend their conduct, cannot be expected to improve by visiting foreign countries. But they whom nature has adorned with virtuous dispositions, who have been so happy as to receive a good education, and go abroad with a real design of improvement, cannot but return with an increase of virtue and wisdom. In this manner shall Emilius conduct his travels. To induce him to improve in the most attentive manner that time which he should spend in travelling, I would let him know, that as he had now attained an age at which it might be proper for him to form some determination with regard to the plan of his future life, he ought therefore to look abroad into the world, to view the various orders in society, to examine the various circumstances of mankind, under different forms of government, and in different parts of the globe; and to choose his country, his station, and his profession. With these views should Emilius set out on his travels; and with these views, in the course of our travels, we should inquire into the origin of society and government, into the nature of those principles by means of which men are united in a social state, into the various circumstances which have given rise to so many different forms of government, and into the necessary relation between government and manners. Our stay in the great towns should be but short: for as in them corruption of manners has risen to a great height, and dissipation reigns, a long stay in any great town might be fatal to the virtuous dispositions of Emilius. Yet his attachment to Sophia would alone be sufficient to save him from the dangers to which his virtue is exposed. A young man must either be in love, or be a debauchee. Instances may be pointed out in which virtue has been preserved without the aid of love; but to such instances I can give little credit.

Emilius, however, may now return to his Sophia. His understanding is now much more enlightened than when he set out on his travels. He is now acquainted with several forms of government, their advantages and defects, with the characters of several different nations, and with the effects which difference in circumstances may be expected to produce on the characters of nations. He has even been so fortunate as to get acquainted with some persons of merit in each of the countries which he has visited. With these advantages gained, and with affection unchanged and unabated, he returns to his Sophia. After having made him acquainted with the languages, the natural history, the government, the arts, customs, and manners, of so many countries, Emilius eagerly informs me that the period which we had destined for our travels is now expired. I ask, What are then his purposes for life? He replies, that he is satisfied with the circumstances in which nature has placed him, and with my endeavours to render him independent on fortune, and wishes only for his Sophia to be happy. After giving him a few advices for the regulation of his conduct in life, I conduct him to his Sophia, and behold him united with her in marriage. I behold him happy; with affectionate gratitude he blesses me as the author of his happiness; and I thus receive the reward of all the pains with which I have conducted his education.

Such are the outlines of the system of education proposed by this singular and original genius. For originality of thought, affecting sentiment, enchanting description, and bold vehement eloquence, this book is one of the noblest pieces of composition, not only in the French language, but even in the whole compass of ancient and modern literature. The irregularity of his method, however, renders it very difficult talk to give an abridged view of his work. He conducts his pupil, indeed, from infancy to manhood: But instead of being barely a system of education, his work is besides a treasure of moral and philosophical knowledge. He has chosen a path, and follows it from the bottom to the summit of the hill: yet whenever a flower appears on the right or left hand, he eagerly steps aside to pluck it; and sometimes, when he has once stepped aside, a new object catches his eye and seduces him still farther. Still, however, he returns. His observations are in many places loyally thrown together, and many things are introduced, the want of which would by no means have injured either the unity or the regularity of his work. If we attempt to review the principles on which he proceeds in reprobating the prevalent modes of education, and pointing out a new course, his primary and leading one seems to be, that we ought to watch and second the designs of nature, without anticipating her. As the tree blossoms, the flowers blow and the fruit ripens each at a certain period; so there is a time fixed in the order of nature for the sensitive, another for the intellectual, and another for the moral powers of man to display themselves. We in vain attempt to teach children to reason concerning truth and falsehood, concerning right and wrong, before the proper period arrive: We only confound their notions of things, and load their memories with words without meaning; and thus prevent both their reasoning and moral powers from attaining that strength and acuteness of which they are naturally capable. He attempts to trace the progress of nature, and to mark in what manner she gradually raises the human mind to the full use of all its faculties. Upon the observations which he has made in tracing the gradual progress of the powers of the human mind towards maturity, his system is founded.

As it is impossible to communicate to the blind any just ideas of colours, or to the deaf of sounds; so it must be acknowledged, that we cannot possibly com- Education. mucitate to children ideas which they have not faculties to comprehend. If they are, for a certain period of life, merely sensitive animals, it must be folly to treat them during that period as rational and moral beings. But is it a truth that they are, during any part of life, guided solely by instinct, and capable only of sensation? Or, how long is the duration of that period? Has nature unkindly left them to be, till the age of twelve, the prey of appetite and passion? So far are the facts of which we have had occasion to take notice, concerning the history of infancy and childhood, from leading to such a conclusion, that to us it appears undeniable that children begin to reason very soon after their entrance into life. When the material world first opens on their senses, they are ignorant of the qualities and relations of surrounding objects; they know not, for instance, whether the candle which they look at be near or at a distance; whether the fire with which they are agreeably warmed may also affect them with a painful sensation. But they remain not long in this state of absolute ignorance. They soon appear to have acquired some ideas of the qualities and relative situation of bodies. They cannot, however, acquire such ideas, without exerting reasoning powers in a certain degree. Appearances must be compared, and inferences drawn, before knowledge can be gained. It is not sensation alone which informs us of the relative distances of bodies; nor can sensation alone teach us, that the same effects which we have formerly observed will be again produced by the same cause.

But if children appear capable of reasoning at a very early period, they appear also to be at a very early period subject to the influence of the passions: they are angry or pleased, merry or sad, friends or enemies, even while they hang at the breast; instead of being selfish, they are naturally liberal and social. And if we observe them with candid attention, we will find that the passions do not display themselves sooner than the moral sense. As nature has wisely ordered, that we should not see, and hear, and feel, without being able to compare and draw inferences from our perceptions; so it is a most certain and evident law of nature, that the passions no sooner begin to agitate the human breast, than we become able to distinguish the beauty and the deformity of virtue and vice. The child is not only capable of gratitude and attachment to the person who treats him with kindness; he is also capable of distinguishing between gratitude and ingratitude, and of viewing each with proper sentiments. He cries when you refuse to gratify his desires; but he boldly inflicts that he is injured when you use him cruelly or unjustly. It is indeed impossible to attend to the conduct of children during infancy, without being convinced that they are, even then, capable of moral distinctions. So little are they acquainted with artificial language, that we and they do not then well understand each other. But view their actions; consider those signs by which nature has taught them to express themselves. Our limbs, our features, and our senses, are not gradually and by piecemeal bestowed as we advance towards maturity; the infant body comes not into the world mutilated or defective; why then, in point of mental abilities, should we be for a while brutes, without becoming rational and moral beings till the fulness of time be accomplished? All the differences between the phenomena of manhood and those of infancy and childhood may be accounted for, if we only reflect, that when children come into the world, they are totally unacquainted with all the objects around them; with the appearances of nature, and the institutions of society; that they are sent into the world in a feeble state, in order that the helplessness occasioned by their ignorance may attract the notice and gain the affluence of those who are able to help them; and that they attain not full strength in the powers either of mind or body, nor a sufficient acquaintance with nature, with artificial language, and with the arts and institutions of society, till they arrive at manhood.

Even Rousseau, notwithstanding the art with which he lays down his system, cannot avoid acknowledging indirectly, on several occasions, that our social dispositions, our rational and our moral powers, display themselves at an earlier period than that at which he wishes us to begin the cultivation of them.

But though the great outlines of his system be merely theory, unsupported by facts, nay plainly contradictory to facts; yet his observations on the impropriety or absurdity of the prevalent modes of education are almost always just, and many of the particular directions which he gives for the conducting of education are very judicious. He is often fanciful, and often deviates from the common road, only to show that he is able to walk in a separate path. Yet why should he be opposed with so much virulence, or branded with so many reproachful epithets? His views are liberal and extensive; his heart seems to have glowed with benevolence; his book contains much observation of human actions; displays an intimate acquaintance with the motives which sway the human heart; and if not a perfect system for education, is yet superior to what any other writers had before done upon the subject. It is surely true, that we ourselves often call forth evil passions in the breasts of children, and impress them with bad habits; it is no less true that we put books in their hands, and load their memory with words, when we ought rather to direct their attention to things, to the phenomena of nature, and the simplest arts of life. The form in which he has chosen to communicate his sentiments on the subject of education renders the perusal of it more pleasing, and his precepts more plain, than they would otherwise have been: it is nearly that dramatic form with which we are so much delighted in some of the noblest compositions of the ancients.

After viewing the public establishments for education which existed in some of the most renowned states of antiquity; and after listening to the sentiments of the experienced Quintilian, the learned Milton, the judicious Locke, and the bold fanciful Rousseau, on this interesting subject; it may now be proper to lay before the reader our own sentiments concerning the education of youth under a few distinct heads.

Indeed, if we were disposed to give abridgments of all the books which have been written on the subject of education, or even to hint at all the various modes which have been recommended by teachers or theorists, we might swell this article to an amazing size: Nay, were we only to take notice of the many elegant and sensible writers who have of late endeavoured to call the attention of the public to this subject, we might extend it to an inmoderate length. A Kames, a Priestley, Education, Iey, a Knox, a Madame de Sillery, and a Berquin, might well attract and fix our attention. But as, among such a crowd of writers, every thing advanced by each cannot be original; and even of those things which are original only a certain, and that perhaps even a moderate proportion, can be just and judicious; and as they often either borrow from one another, or at least agree in a very friendly manner, though in some things they profess a determined hostility; therefore we shall content ourselves with having taken notice of four of the most respectable writers on the subject.

In presenting to our readers the result of our own observations and reflections, we shall throw our thoughts nearly under the following heads. The management of children from their birth till they attain the age of five or six; from that period till the age of puberty; and from that age till manhood; private and public education; religion and morals; the languages; natural philosophy; the education of people of rank and fortune; education of persons designed for a mercantile employment, and for the other humbler occupations in active life not particularly connected with literature; education of the female sex; foreign travel; knowledge of the world; and entrance into active life. We do not pretend to be able to include under these heads everything worthy of notice in the subject of education; but under these we will be able to comprehend almost everything of importance that has occurred to us on the subject.

I. On the Management of Infants from the Time of their Birth till they attain the Age of five or six.

The young of no other animal comes into the world in so helpless a state, or continues so long to need assistance, as that of the human species. The calf, the lamb, and the kid, are vigorous and lively at the instant of their birth; require only, for a very short period, nourishment and protection from their respective dams; and soon attain such degrees of strength and activity as to become entirely independent. The infancy of the oviparous animals is not of longer continuance: And, indeed, whatever department of the animal world we may choose to survey, we will find that no species is subject to the same severe laws as man during the first period of life.

Yet the character and the views of man are so very different from those of the other animals, that a more careful attention to these may perhaps induce us to regard this seeming severity rather as an instance of the peculiar kindness of the Author of nature. From every observation which has been hitherto made on the powers and operations of the inferior animals, we are led to consider them as guided and actuated chiefly, if not solely, by instinct, appetite, and sensation: their views extend not beyond the present moment; nor do they acquire new knowledge or prudence as they advance in life. But the character of the human race is much more exalted. We have also powers and organs of sensation, instincts and appetites; but these are the most ignoble parts of our nature: our rational faculties and moral powers elevate us above the brutes, and advance us to an alliance with superior beings. These rational faculties and moral powers render us capable of social life, of artificial language, of art, of science, and of religion. Now, were one of the species to come into the world full grown, possessed of that bodily strength and vigour which distinguishes manhood, his ignorance would still render him inadequate to the duties of life; nay, would even render him unable to procure means for his subsistence: while his manly appearance would deprive him of the compassion and benevolent afflatus of others; and his strength and vigour would also render him less docile and obedient than is necessary, in order that he may receive instruction in the duties and arts of life. Again, were the period of infancy as short to the human species as to the other animals; were we to be no longer subjected to a parent's authority, or protected by his care, than the bird or the quadruped; we should be exposed to the dangers and difficulties of the world before we had acquired sufficient knowledge or prudence to conduct us through them, before we had gained any acquaintance with the ordinary phenomena of nature, or were able to use the language or practice the arts of men in a social state.

Since, then, it is by the benevolence of nature that we are feeble and helpless at our entrance into life, and that our progress towards maturity is slow and gradual; since nature has destined us to be for a considerable time under the care and authority of our parents; and since the manner in which we are managed during that early part of life has so important an influence on our future character and conduct: it is therefore incumbent on parents to direct that tenderness, which they naturally feel for their offspring, in such a manner as to second the views of nature.

When children come into the world, instinct directs them to receive nourishment from the breast, and to claim attention to their pains and wants by crying. We attend to their signs, and strive to render them as drest as easy as we can. They are washed, clothed with such fants garments as we think most suitable, and suckled either by their mother or by some other woman who is considered as proper for the purpose. The absurd mode of swaddling up infants in such a manner as to confine them almost from all motion, and leave scarce a limb at liberty, which has been so often exclaimed against and represented as highly injurious to the symmetry and vigour of the human frame, is now almost entirely laid aside; and therefore we need not raise our voice against it. Still, however, there are certainly too many pins and bandages used in the dress of infants: these are unfavourable to the circulation of the blood, impede the growth, and often occasion those tears and that peevishness which we rashly attribute to the natural ill-humour of the poor creatures. Their dress ought to be loose and cool, so as to press hard on no joint, nor vein nor muscle; and to leave every limb at liberty. If too heavy and close, it may occasion too copious a perspiration, and at the same time confine the matter peripherally on the surface of the skin; than which nothing can be more prejudicial to the health of the child. It may also, however, be too thin and cool: for as moderate warmth is necessary to the vegetation of plants; so it is no less necessary for promoting the growth of animals; and, therefore, though the dress of infants ought to be loose and easy, yet still it should be moderately warm.

It is common for mothers in affluent or even in nurseries, comfortable circumstances, to forego the pleasure of nursing their own children, that they may avoid the fatigues with which it is attended. This practice has long prevailed in various ages and among various nations; Education: it has been often reproved with all the warmth of passion, and all the vehemence of eloquence, as dishonourable, inhuman, contradictory to the designs of nature, and destructive of natural affection; yet still it prevails; fathers and mothers are still equally deaf to the voice of nature and the declamations of philosophers. Indeed, in a luxurious age, such a practice may be naturally expected to prevail. In such an age, they who are possessed of opulence generally persuade themselves, that, to be happy, is to spend their time wholly amid diversions and amusements, without descending to useful industry, or troubling themselves about the ordinary duties of life. Influenced by such notions, they think it proper for them to manage their family affairs, and to nurture and educate their children, by proxy; nay, to do for themselves nothing that another can perform for them. It is vain to make a furious opposition to these absurd notions; the false views of happiness, the pride and the indolence produced by luxury, will still be too powerful for us. We must not hope to persuade the mother, that to receive the carefree, to behold the smiles, and to mark the bodily and mental powers of her child in their gradual progress towards maturity, would be more than a sufficient compensation for all the fatigues which she would undergo in nursing and watching over him in his infant years. We need not mention, that the mutual affection between a mother and her child, which is partly the effect of instinct, depends also, in no inconsiderable degree, on the child's spending the period of infancy in its mother's arms; and that when she substitutes another in her place, the child naturally transfers its affection to the person who performs to it the duties of a mother. We need not urge these, nor the various other reasons which seem to recommend to every mother the province of suckling her own children, and watching over their infant years; for we will either not be heard, or be listened to with contempt. Yet we may venture to suggest, that if the infant must be committed to a stranger, some degree of prudence may be employed in selecting the person to whom he is to be entrusted. Her health, her temper, and her manner of speaking, must be attended to. A number of other qualifications are also to be required in a nurse; but it is rather the business of the physician to give directions with regard to these. If her habit of body be any way unhealthy, the constitution of the infant that sucks her milk cannot but be injured; if her temper be rough or peevish, the helpless child subjected to her power will be often harshly treated; its spirit will be broken, and its temper fouled; if her pronunciation be inarticulate or too rapid, the child may acquire a bad habit when it first begins to exert its vocal organs, which will not be easily corrected.

In the milder seasons of the year, infants ought to be frequently carried abroad. Not only is the open air favourable to health, but the freshness, the beauty, the variety, and the lively colours of the scenes of nature, have the happiest effects on the temper, and have even a tendency to enliven and invigorate the powers of the mind. At this period, the faculties of the understanding and the dispositions of the heart generally acquire that particular bias, and those distinguishing features, which characterize the individual during the future part of his life, as quick or dull, mild or passionate; and which, though they be generally attributed to the original conformation of the mind by the hand of nature, yet are owing rather to the circumstances in which we are placed, and the manner in which we are treated, during the first part of life.

When children begin to walk, our fondness dispose us to adopt many expedients to assist them. But these seem to be improper. It is enough for us to watch over them so as to guard them from any danger which they might otherwise incur by their first attempts to move about. Those who advise us not to be too anxious to preserve children from those slight hurts to which they are exposed from their disposition to activity, before they have acquired sufficient strength or caution, certainly give a judicious piece of advice which ought to be listened to. By being too attentive to them, we teach them to be careless of themselves; by seeming to regard every little accident which befalls them as a most dreadful calamity, we inspire them with timidity, and prevent them from acquiring manly fortitude. When children begin to lip out a few words or syllables, the pleasure which we feel at hearing them aim at the use of our language, dispose us to listen to them with such attention as to relieve them from the necessity of learning an open distinct articulation. Thus we teach them to express themselves in a rapid, indistinct, and hesitating manner, which we often find it difficult, sometimes even impossible, to correct, when they are farther advanced. Would we teach them a plain distinct articulation, we ought not only to speak plainly and distinctly in their presence, but also to disregard their questions and requests, if not expressed with all the openness and distinctness of pronunciation of which they are capable.

Man is naturally an imitative animal. Scarce any of our natural dispositions is displayed at an earlier period than our disposition to imitation. Children's first amusements are dramatic performances, imitative of the arts and actions of men. This is one proof among others, that even in infancy our reasoning faculties begin to display themselves; for we cannot agree with some philosophers, that children are actuated and guided solely by instinct in their attempts at imitation.

However that be, the happiest use might be made of this principle which discovers itself so early in the infant mind. Whatever you wish the child to acquire, do in his presence in such a manner as to tempt him to imitate you. Thus, without forcing his mind by restraint during this gay innocent period of life, you may begin even now to cultivate his natural powers. Were it impossible at this time to communicate any instruction to the boy, without banishing that sprightly gaiety which naturally distinguishes this happy age, it would be best to think only how he might lose his time in the least disadvantageous manner. But this is far from being necessary. Even now the little creature is disposed to imitation, is capable of emulation, and feels a desire to please those whose kindness has gained his affection. Even now his sentiments and conduct may be influenced by rewards when prudently bestowed, and by punishments when judiciously inflicted. Why then should we hesitate to govern him Education by the same principles, by which the laws of God and society assert their influence on our own sentiments and conduct? Indeed, the imprudent manner in which children are too generally managed at this early period, would almost tempt us to think it impossible to instruct them, as yet, without injuring both their abilities and dispositions. But this is owing solely to the careless, stupid, or capricious conduct of those under whose care they are placed.

Is implicit obedience to be exacted of children? and at what period of life should we begin to enforce it? As children appear to be capable both of reasoning and moral distinctions at a very early age; and as they are so weak, so inexperienced, so ignorant of the powers of surrounding bodies, and of the language, institutions, and arts of men, as to be incapable of supporting or conducting themselves without direction or assistance; it seems therefore proper that they be required even to submit to authority. To the necessity of nature both they and we must on many occasions submit. But if the will of a parent or tutor be always found scarce less unalterable than the necessity of nature, it will always meet with the same respectful submissive resignation. It may not perhaps be always proper to explain to children the reasons for which we require their obedience; because, as the range of their ideas is much less extensive than ours; as they do not well understand our language, or comprehend our modes of reasoning; and as they are now and then under the influence of passion and caprice, as well as people who are farther advanced in life; we are therefore likely to fail in making them comprehend our reasons, or in convincing them that they are well-grounded. And as it is proper to exact obedience of children; so we should begin to require it as soon as they become capable of any considerable degree of activity. Yet we must not confine them like slaves, without allowing them to speak, to look, or to move, but as we give the word. By such treatment we could expect only to render them peevish and capricious. It will be enough, at first, if we let them know that obedience is to be exacted; and if we restrain them only where, if left at liberty, they would be exposed to imminent danger.

If then, at so early a time of life as before the age of five or six, it is possible to render children obedient, and to communicate to them instruction; what arts, or what learning, ought we to teach them at that period? To give a proper answer to this question, is no easy matter. It seems at first difficult to determine, whether we ought yet to initiate them in letters. But as their apprehension is now quick, and their memory pretty tenacious, there cannot be a more favourable time for this very purpose. As soon as they are capable of a distinct articulation, and seem to possess any power of attention, we may with the greatest propriety begin to teach them the alphabet. The most artful, alluring methods may be adopted to render the horn-book agreeable; or we may use the voice of authority, and command attention for a few minutes; but no harshness, no severity, and scarce any restraint. At the same time, it will be proper to allow the little creatures to run much about in the open air, to exercise their limbs, and to cultivate those social dispositions which already begin to appear, by playing with their equals.

Such are the thoughts which have suggested themselves to us concerning the management of children in mere infancy. What an amiable little creature would the boy or girl be, who were brought up in a manner not inconsistent with the spirit of these few hints? Behold him healthy and vigorous, mild, sprightly, and cheerful; He is submissive and docile, yet not dull or timid; he appears capable of love, of pity, and of gratitude. His mind is hitherto, however, almost wholly uninformed: he is acquainted but with a few of the objects around him; and knows but little of the language, manners, and institutions of men: but he feels the impulse of an ardent curiosity, and all the powers of his mind are alive and active.

II. On the Management of Children between the Age of five or six and the Age of puberty.

At this period it may be proper, not only to exact obedience, and to call the child's attention for a few minutes now and then to those things of which the knowledge is likely to be afterwards useful to him; but we may now venture to require of him a regular steady application, during a certain portion of his time, to such things as we wish him to learn. Before this time it would have been wrong to confine his attention to any particular task. The attempt could have produced no other effect than to destroy his natural gaiety and cheerfulness, to blunt the native quickness of his powers of apprehension, and to render hateful that which you wished him to acquire. Now, however, the case is somewhat different: The child is not yet sensible of the advantages which he may derive from learning to read, for instance; or even though he were able to foresee all the advantages which he will obtain by skill in the art of reading through the course of life; yet is it the character of human nature, at every stage of life, to be so much influenced by present objects in preference to future views, that the sense of its utility alone would not be sufficient to induce him to apply to it. Even at the age of 12, of 20, of 50; nay, in extreme old age, when reason is become very peripetuous, and the passions are mortified; still we are unable to regulate our conduct solely by views of utility. Nothing could be more absurd, therefore, than to permit the child to spend his time in foolish tricks, or in idleness, till views of utility should prompt him to spend it in a different manner. No; let us begin early to habituate him to application and to the industrious exertion of his powers. By endowing him with powers of activity and apprehension, and rendering him capable of pursuing with a steady eye those objects which attract his desires, nature plainly points out to us in what manner we ought to cultivate his earlier years. Besides, we can command his obedience, we can awaken his curiosity, we can rouse his emulation, we can gain his affection, we can call forth his natural disposition to imitation, and we can influence his mind by the hope of reward and the fear of punishment. When we have so many means of establishing our authority over the mind of the boy without tyranny or usurpation; it cannot surely be difficult, if we are capable of any moderation and prudence, to cultivate his powers by making him begin at this period to give regular application to something that may afterwards be useful. And if the boy must now begin to dedicate some portion of his time regularly to a certain task, what talk will be most suitable? Even that to which children are usually first required to apply; continue teaching him to read. Be not afraid that his abilities will suffer from an attention to books at so early an age. Say not that it is folly to teach him words before he have gained a knowledge of things. It is necessary, it is the design of nature, that he should be employed in acquiring a knowledge of things, and gaining an acquaintance with the vocal and written signs by which we denote them, at the same time. These are intimately connected; the one leads to the other. When you view any object, you attempt to give it a name, or seek to learn the name by which men have agreed to distinguish it: in the same manner, when the names of substances or of qualities are communicated to us, we are desirous of knowing what they signify. At the same time, so imperfect is the knowledge of nature which children can acquire from their own unsifted observation, that they must have frequent recourse to our assistance before they can form any distinct notions of those objects and scenes which they behold. Indeed language cannot be taught, without teaching that it is merely a system of signs, and explaining what each particular sign is designed to signify. If, therefore, language is not only necessary for facilitating the mutual intercourse of men, but is even useful for enabling us to obtain some knowledge of external nature, and if the knowledge of language has a natural tendency to advance our knowledge of things; to acquaint ourselves with it must therefore be regarded as an object of the highest importance: it must also be regarded as one of the first objects to which we ought to direct the attention of children. But the very same reasons which prove the propriety of making children acquainted with those artificial vocal signs which we use to express our ideas of things, prove also the propriety of teaching them those other signs by which we express them in writing. It is possible indeed, nay it frequently happens, that we attempt to instruct children in language in so improper a manner as to confound their notions of things, and to prevent their intellectual powers from making that improvement of which they are naturally capable: but it is also possible to initiate them in the art of reading, and in the knowledge of language, with better auspices and happier effects.

The knowledge of language may be considered as the key by which we obtain access to all the stores of natural and moral knowledge.

Though we now agree to confine our pupil to a certain task, and have determined that his first task shall be to learn to read; yet we do not mean to require that he be confined to this task during the greatest part of the day, or that his attention be seriously directed to no other object. To subject him to too severe restraint would produce the most unfavourable effects on his genius, his temper, and his dispositions. It is in consequence of the injudicious management of children, while they are sometimes suffered to run riot, and at other times cruelly confined like prisoners or slaves; it is in consequence of this, that we behold so many instances of peevishness, caprice, and invincible aversion to all serious application at this period of life. But were a due medium observed, were restraint duly tempered with liberty and indulgence, nothing would be more easy than to dispose children to cheerful obedience, and to communicate to them instruction at this age. That part of their time which they are left to enjoy at liberty, they naturally dedicate to their little sports. The favourite sports of boys are generally active; those of girls, sedentary. Of each we may take advantage, to prepare them for the future employments of life. However, neither are the amusements of boys invariably active, nor those of girls always sedentary; for, as yet, the manners and dispositions of the two sexes are distinguished rather by habit or accident than by nature. The disposition to activity which characterizes children, is no less favourable to health than to their improvement in knowledge and prudence; their active sports have a tendency to promote their growth and add new vigour to their limbs. Perhaps, even at this time, children might be enticed to learn the elements of natural philosophy and natural history amid their amusements and sports. Birds, butterflies, dogs, and other animals, are now favourite objects of their care; their curiosity is powerfully roused by the appearance of any strange object; and many of the simplest experiments of natural philosophy are so pleasing, that they cannot fail to attract the attention even of those who are least under the influence of curiosity. Yet it would be improper to insist on their attention to these things as a task: if we can make them regard them as amusements, it will be well; if not, we must defer them to some happier season. They might also, by proper management, be led to acquire some skill in the arts. They build mimic houses, and fill them with suitable furniture; they construct little boats, and sail them; they will fence in little gardens, and cultivate them; and we even see them imitate all the labours of the husbandman. Such is the pleasure which man naturally feels in exerting his powers, and in acting with design. Let us encourage this disposition. These are the most suitable amusements in which they can engage.

As the boy's attention to literary objects is still sup. Whatbooks proposed to be continued, he will soon be able to read per. with some correctness and facility. It becomes an object of importance, and of no small difficulty, to determine what books are to be put into his hands, and in what manner his literary education is to be conducted. After the child is made acquainted with the names and powers of the letters, with their combination into syllables, and with the combination of these again into words, so that he can read with tolerable facility; it will be proper that the pieces of reading which are put into his hands be such as are descriptive of the actions of men, of the scenes of external nature, and of the forms and characters of animals. With these he is already in some degree acquainted; these are the objects of his daily attention; beyond them the range of his ideas does not yet extend; and therefore other subjects will be likely to render his talk disagreeable to him. Besides, our present object is to teach him words: in order to teach him words, we must let him know their significance; but till he have acquired a very considerable knowledge of language, till he have gained a rich fund of simple ideas, it will be impossible for him to read or to hear with understanding on any other subject but these. And let us not as yet be particularly particularly anxious to communicate to him religious or moral instruction, otherwise than by our example, and by causing him to act in such a manner as we think most proper. Our great business at present is, to make him acquainted with our language, and to teach him in what manner we use it to express our ideas. By his own observation, and by our instruction, he will soon become capable of comprehending all that we wish to communicate: But let us not be too hasty; the boy cannot long view the actions of mankind, and observe the economy of the animal and the vegetable world, without becoming capable of receiving both religious and moral instruction when judiciously communicated.

As soon as the pupil can read and spell with tolerable facility, and has acquired sufficient strength of arm and fingers to hold a pen, it may be proper to initiate him in the art of writing. If this art is not made disagreeable by the manner in which his application to it is required, he will learn it without difficulty. Children's natural disposition to imitate, particularly whatever depends on manual operation, renders this art peculiarly easy and pleasing to them when they are not harshly forced to apply to it, nor suffered to get into a habit of performing their task with haste and negligence.

It requires indeed the most cautious prudence, the nicest delicacy, and the most artful address, to prevail with children to give a cheerful and attentive application to any appointed task. If you are too stern and rigid in enforcing application, you may seemingly obtain your object: the child sits motionless, and fixes his eye on his book or copy; but his attention you cannot command; his mind is beyond your reach, and can elude your tyranny; it wanders from the present objects, and flies with pleasure to those scenes and objects in which it has found delight. Thus you are disappointed of your purpose; and, besides, inspire the child with such aversion both to you and to those objects to which you wish him to apply, that perhaps at no future period will he view learning otherwise than with disgust.

Again, gentleness, and the arts of infatuation, will not always be successful. If you permit the child to apply just when he pleases; if you listen readily to all his pretences and excuses; in short, if you seem to consider learning as a matter not of the highest importance, and treat him with kindness while he pays but little attention and makes but slow progress; the consequences of your behaving to him in this manner will be scarcely less unfavourable than those which attend imprudent and unreasonable severity. It is, however, scarcely possible to give particular directions how to treat children so as to allure them to learning, and at the same time to command their serious attention. But the prudent and affectionate parent and the judicious tutor will not be always unsuccessful; since there are so many circumstances in the condition of children, and so many principles in their nature, which subject them to our will.

The principles of arithmetic ought to make a part in the boy's education as soon as his reasoning powers appear to have attained such strength and quickness that he will be able to comprehend them. Arithmetic affords more exercise to the reasoning powers of the mind than any other of those branches of learning to which we apply in our earlier years; and if the child's attention be directed to it at a proper period, if he be allowed to proceed slowly, and if care be taken to make him comprehend fully the principles upon which each particular operation proceeds, it will contribute much to increase the strength and the acuteness of the powers of his understanding.

Where the learned languages are regarded as an object worthy of attention, the boy is generally initiated in them about this time, or perhaps earlier. We have referred to a separate head the arguments which occur to us for and against the practice of instructing children in the dead languages; and shall therefore only observe in this place, that the study of them ought not to engross the learner's attention so entirely as to exclude other parts of education.

From arithmetic our pupil may proceed to the practical branches of the mathematics: And in all of these, as well as in every other branch of learning, what you teach him will be best remembered and most thorough, if you afford him a few opportunities of applying his lessons to real use in life. Geometry and geography are two most important branches of education; but are often taught in such a manner, that no real benefit is derived from the knowledge of them. The means which Rousseau proposes for initiating young people in these, and in several other of the arts and sciences are excellent; and if judiciously applied, could hardly fail of success.

While boys are engaged in these and in the languages, they may also attend to and cultivate the bodily exercises; such as dancing, fencing, and horsemanship. Each of these exercises is almost absolutely necessary for one who is designed to have intercourse with the world; and besides, they have a tendency to render the powers of the body active and vigorous, and even to add new courage and firmness to the mind.

When our pupil has acquired some knowledge of his own and of the learned languages, has gained some skill in the principles of arithmetic and of practical mathematics, and has received some instruction in the principles of morality and religion, or even before this time, it will be proper to begin him to the practice of composition. Themes, versions, and letters, the first exercises in composition which the boy is usually required to perform, none of them seems happily calculated for leading him to increase his knowledge, or to acquire the power of expressing himself with ease and elegance. Without enlarging on the impropriety or absurdity of these exercises, we will venture to propose something different, which we cannot help thinking would conduct more effectually to the end in view. It has been already observed, that the curiosity of children is amazingly eager and active, and that every new object powerfully attracts their regard; but they cannot view any object without taking notice of its most obvious qualities; any animal, for instance, without taking notice of its shape, its colour, its seeming mildness or ferocity; and they are generally pretty ready to give an account of anything extraordinary which they have observed. How easy then would it be to require them to write down an account of any new object exposed to their observation? The task would not be difficult; and every new piece of composition which they presented to us would add so much to their knowledge of nature. We might even require such specimens of their accuracy of observation and skill in language, at times when they enjoyed no opportunities of beholding new or surprising objects; a tree, a flower, a field, a house, an animal, any other simple object, should be the subject of their exercise. After some time, we might require them to describe something more various and complex. They might give an account of several objects placed in a relative situation; as, a stream, and the vale through which it flows; or, a bird, and the manner in which it constructs its nest; or, of one object successively assuming various appearances, as the bud, the flower, the apple. Human actions are daily exposed to their observation, and powerfully attract their attention. By and by, therefore, their task should be to describe some action which had lately passed in their presence. We need not pursue this hint farther; but, if we mistake not, by these means young people might sooner, and much more certainly, be taught to express themselves with ease and correctness in writing, than by any of the exercises which they are at present caused to perform with a view to that. Besides, they would at the same time acquire much more real knowledge. The study of words would then be rendered truly subservient to their acquiring a knowledge of things.

We cannot descend to every particular of that series of education in which we wish the boy to be engaged from that period when he first becomes capable of serious application till he reach the age of puberty. It is not necessary that we should, after having given abstracts of what has been offered to the world by so many respectable writers on the subject.

The few hints which I have thrown out will be sufficient to show, in general, in what manner we wish the youth's education to be conducted during this period. Let the parent and the tutor bear in mind, that much depends on their example, with regard to the dispositions and manners of the youth; and let them carefully strive to form him to gentleness, to firmness, to patient industry, and to vigorous courage: let them, if possible, keep him at a distance from that contagion with which the evil example of worthless servants and playfellows will be likely to infect him. Now is the time for sowing the seeds of piety and virtue: if carefully sown now, they will scarce fail to grow up, and bear fruit in future life.

III. From Puberty to Manhood.

This age is every way a very important period in human life. Whether we consider the change which now takes place in the bodily constitution, or the passion which now first begins to agitate the breast, still we must regard this as a critical season to the youth. The business of those to whose care he is still entrusted, is to watch over him so as to prevent the passion for the sex from hurrying him to shameful and vicious indulgence, and from seducing him to habits of frivolity and indolence; to prevent him from becoming either the shameless rake, or the trifling coxcomb. Though so furious is the impulse of that appetite which now fires the bosom and shoots through the veins of the youth, that to restrain him from the excesses to which it leads can be no easy task; yet if education, his education has been hitherto conducted with prudence, if he is fond of manly exercises, active, sober, and temperate, and still influenced by modesty and the sense of shame; even this may through the blessing of heaven be accomplished. It is impossible to give better directions than those of Rousseau for this purpose. Let the young man know his situation; set before him in a striking light the virtue which he may practise by restraining appetite, and the frightful fatal vices into which he may be hurried. But truth not to precept, nor to any views which you can lay before him, either of the disgracefulness and the pernicious consequences of vice, or of the dignity and the happy fruits of virtue. Something more must be done. Watch over him with the attention of an Argus; engage him in the most active and fatiguing sports. Carefully keep him at a distance from all such company, and such books, as may suggest to his mind ideas of love, and of the gratification at which it aims. But still all your precautions will not counteract the designs of nature; nor do you wish to oppose her designs. The youth under your care must feel the impulse of desire, and become susceptible of love. Let him then fix his affections on some virtuous young woman. His attachment to her will raise him above debauchery, and teach him to despise brutal pleasures: it will operate as a motive to dispose him to apply to such arts, and to pursue such branches of knowledge, as may be necessary for his farther establishment in the world. The good sense of Rousseau on this head renders it less necessary for us to enlarge on it; especially as we are to treat of some articles separately which regard the management of youth at this period.

IV. Religion and Morals.

In pointing out the general plan of education which appears to us the most proper to be pursued in order to form a virtuous and respectable member of society, principles we took but slight notice of the important objects of may be religion and morals. At what period, and in what manner, ought the principles of religion and morality to be instilled into the youthful mind? It has been before observed, that children are capable of reasoning and of moral distinctions even at a very early age. But they cannot then comprehend our reasonings, nor enter into our moral distinctions; because they are strangers to our language, and to the artificial manner in which we arrange our ideas when we express them in conversation or in writing. It follows, then, that as soon as they are sufficiently acquainted with our language, it must be proper to communicate to them the principles and precepts of morality and religion. Long before this time, they are diligent and accurate observers of human actions. For a short period it is merely the external act which they attend to and observe: soon, however, they penetrate farther; conscious themselves of reflection and volition, they regard us also as thinking beings; conscious of benevolent and of unfriendly dispositions, they regard us as acting with design, and as influenced by pallion: naturally imitative animals, they are disposed in their conduct to follow the example which we set before them. By our example we may teach them piety and virtue long before it can be proper to offer them religious or moral instruction in a formal manner. We cannot presume to determine at what particular period children ought to be first informed of their relations to God and to society, and of the duties incumbent on them in consequence of those relations. That period will be different to different children, according to the pains which have been taken, and the means which have been employed, in cultivating their natural powers. Perhaps even where the most judicious maxims of education have been adopted, and have been pursued with the happiest effects, it cannot be sooner than the age of eight or nine. But even before this period much may be done. Show the child your reverence for religion and virtue; talk in his presence, and in the plainest, simplest terms, though not directly to him, of the existence of God the creator, the preserver, and the governor of the world; speak of the constant dependance of every creature on the gracious care of that Being; mention with ardour the gratitude and obedience which we owe to him as our great parent and best benefactor; next, speak of the mutual relations of society; of the duties of children and parents, of masters and servants, of man to man. At length, when his mind is prepared by such discourses which have passed in his presence without being addressed to him, you may begin to explain to him in a direct manner the leading doctrines of religion. He will now be able to comprehend you, when you address him on that important subject; the truths which you communicate will make a powerful impression on his mind; an impression which neither the corruption and dissipation of the world, nor the force of appetite and passion, will ever be able to efface.

Some writers on this subject have asserted, that youth are incapable of any just ideas of religion till they attain a much more advanced age; and have infixed, that, for this reason, no attempts should be made to communicate to them the articles of our creed in their earlier years. This doctrine, both from its novelty and from its pernicious tendency, has provoked the keenest opposition. It has, however, been opposed rather with keenness than with acuteness or skill. Its opponents seem to have generally allowed that children are incapable of reasoning and of moral distinctions; but they have ascribed wonderful effects to habit. Enrich the memories of children, say they, with the maxims of morality, and with the doctrines of religion; teach them prayers, and call them to engage in all the ordinances of religion. What though they comprehend not the meaning of what they learn? What though they understand not for what purpose you bid them repeat their prayers, nor why you confine them on the Lord's day from their ordinary amusements? Their powers will at length ripen, and they will then see in what they have been employed, and derive the highest advantage from the irksome tasks to which you confined them. You have formed them to habits which they will not be able to lay aside: After this they cannot but be religious at some period of life, even though you have inspired them with a disgust for the exercises of religion. Those good people have also talked of the principle of the association of ideas. As no man stands alone in society, say they; so no one idea exists in the mind single and unconnected with others: as you are connected with your parents, your children, your friends, your coun-

trymen; so the idea of a tree, for instance, is connected with that of the field in which it grows, of the fruit which it bears, and of contiguous, dissimilar, and resembling objects. When any one set of related ideas have been often presented to the mind in connection with one another, the mind at length comes to view them as so intimately united, that any particular one among them never fails to introduce the rest. Revist the scenes in which you spent your earliest years; the spots and companions of your youth naturally arise to your recollection. Have you applied to the study of the classics with reluctance and constraint, and suffered much from the severity of parents and tutors for your indifference to Greek and Latin? you will, perhaps, never through the course of life see a grammar school, without recollecting your sufferings, nor look on a Virgil or Homer without remembering the trifles and confinement which they once occasioned to you. In the same manner, when religious principles are impressed on the mind in infancy in a proper manner, an happy association is formed which cannot fail to give them a powerful influence on the sentiments and conduct in future life. But if we have advanced to manhood before being informed of the existence of a Deity, and of our relation to him; the principles of religion, when communicated, no longer produce the same happy effects: the heart and the understanding are no longer in the same state; nor will the same allocations be formed.

This doctrine of the association of ideas has been introduced by an ingenious writer, distinguished for his discoveries in natural philosophy, and for his labours in controversial divinity, as an argument in behalf of the propriety of instructing youth in the principles of religion even in their earliest years. We admire, we esteem, the spirit which has prompted him to discover so much concern for the interests of the rising generation; but at the same time we will not conceal our opinion, that even this argument ought to be urged with caution. Many of the phenomena of human nature may indeed be explained, if we have recourse to the principle of association. The influence of any principle, religious or moral, depends in a great measure on the ideas and images which, in considering it, we have been accustomed to associate with it in our minds. But what are the ideas or images most likely to be associated by children with the doctrines and duties of religion, if we call them to listen to the one and perform the other at too early a period? Will they be such as may afflit the influence of religion on their sentiments and conduct in the future part of life? Observe the world: Are those who, in infancy, have been most rigidly compelled to get their catechisms by rote, either the most pious or the best informed in religious matters? Indeed, when we consider what has been said of the influence of habit, and of the association of ideas, we cannot help thinking, that any arguments which on the present occasion may be adduced from either of these, tend directly to prove, not that we ought to pour in religious instruction into the minds of children, without considering whether they be qualified to receive it; but, on the contrary, that we ought cautiously to wait for and catch the proper season;—that season when the youthful mind, no longer a stranger to our language, our sentiments, Education sentiments, our views of nature, or our manner of reasoning, will be able to go along with us, when we talk to him of a supreme Being, of our condition as dependent and accountable creatures, of truth, benevolence, and justice.

We flatter ourselves, then, that our readers will readily agree with us, 1st, That the moral and reasoning powers of children begin to display themselves at a very early age, even in infancy. 2dly, That as soon as they have made themselves acquainted with the most obvious appearances of nature, and have gained a tolerable knowledge of our language and our manner of arranging our ideas in reasoning, we may with the greatest propriety begin to instruct them in the principles of religion. 3dly, That the most careful and judicious observation is necessary to enable us to distinguish the period at which children become capable of receiving religious instruction; because, if we either attempt to communicate to them these important truths too early, or defer them till towards manhood, we may fail of accomplishing the great end which we have in view.

If we can be so fortunate as to choose the happiest season for sowing the first seeds of piety in the infant mind, our next care will be to sow them in a proper manner. We must anxiously endeavour to communicate the principles of religion and morality, so as they may be easily comprehended by the understanding of the learner, and may make the deepest impression on his heart. It would be a matter of the greatest difficulty to give particular directions on this head. The discretion of the parent or tutor must here be his guide. We are afraid that some of the catechisms commonly taught are not very happily calculated to serve the purpose for which they are intended. Yet we do not wish that they should be neglected while nothing more proper is introduced in their room. In instructing children in the first principles of religion, we must beware of arraying piety in the gloomy garb, or painting her with the forbidding features, in which she has been represented by anchorites, monks, and puritans. No; let her assume a pleasing form, a cheerful dress, and an inviting manner. Describe the Deity as the affectionate parent, the benefactor, and though the impartial yet the merciful judge of mankind. Exhibit to them Jesus Christ, the generous friend and saviour of the posterity of Adam, who with such enchanting benevolence hath said, "Suffer little children to come unto me." Represent to them his yoke as easy, and his burden as light. Inspire not on their saying long prayers or hearing tedious sermons. If possible, make the doctrines of religion to appear to them as glad tidings, and its duties as the most delightful of tasks.

V. The Languages.

Is the time usually spent in learning the languages usefully occupied? What advantages can our British youth derive from an acquaintance with the languages and the learning of Greece and Rome? Would we listen to many of the fathers, the mothers, and the polite tutors of the present age, they will persuade us, that the time which is dedicated to grammar-schools, and to Virgil, Cicero, Homer, and Demosthenes, is foolishly thrown away; and that no advantages can be gained from the study of classical education.

They wish their children and pupils to be not merely scholars; they wish them to acquire what may be useful and ornamental when they come to mingle with the world; and for this purpose, they think it much better to teach their young people to imitate French, to dance, to fence, to appear in company with invincible assurance, and to dress in such a manner as may attract the attention of the ladies. Besides, the tenderness and humanity of those people are amazing. They are shocked at the idea of the sufferings which boys undergo in the course of a classical education. The confinement, the stripes, the harsh language, the burdens laid on the memory, and the pain occasioned to the eyes, during the dreary period spent in acquiring a knowledge of Greek and Latin, affect them with horror when they think of them as inflicted on children. They therefore give the preference to a plan of education in which less intense application is required and less severity employed.

But, again, there are others who are no less warm in their eulogiums on a classical education, and no less for it, industrious in recommending the study of Greek and Latin, than those are eager in their endeavours to draw neglect on the polished languages of antiquity. With this second class, if an adept in Greek and Latin, you are a great and learned man; but without those languages, contemptible for ignorance. They think it impossible to inspire the youthful mind with generous or virtuous sentiments, to teach the boy wisdom, or to animate him with courage, without the assistance of the ancient philosophers, historians, and poets. Indeed their superstitious reverence for the ancient languages, and for those writers whose compositions have rendered Greece and Rome so illustrious, leads them to ascribe many other still more wonderful virtues to a classical education.

With which of these parties shall we join? or shall we mediate between them? Is it improper to call youth to the study of the languages? Is it impossible to communicate any useful knowledge without them? Or are they, though highly useful, yet not always indispensably necessary?

We have formerly taken notice of one circumstance Utility of in favour of a classical education, to which it may be classical proper to recall the attention of our readers. We observe, that the cultivation of classical learning has a favourable influence on the living languages. It has been found that the tendency to preserve their purity from being debauched, and their analogy from becoming irregular. In studying the dead languages, we find it necessary to pay more attention to the principles of grammar than in acquiring our mother-tongue. We learn our native language without attending much to its analogy and structure. Of the numbers who speak English through the British dominions, but few are skilled in the inflexion of its nouns and verbs, or able to distinguish between adverbs and conjunctions. Delirious only of making their meaning understood, they are not anxious about purity or correctness of speech. They reject not an expression which occurs to them, because it is barbarous or ungrammatical. As they grew up, they learned to speak from their mothers, their nurses, and others about them: they were soon able to make known their wants, their wishes, and their observations, Education, in words. Satisfied with this, or called at a very early period to a life of humble industry, they have continued to express themselves in their mother-tongue without acquiring any accurate knowledge of its general principles. If these people find occasion to express themselves in writing, they are scarce more studious of correctness and elegance in writing than in speaking; or, though they may aspire after those properties, yet they can never attain them. But such writers or speakers can never refine any language, or reduce it to a regular analogy. Neither can they be expected to distinguish themselves as the guardians of the purity and regularity of their native tongue, if it should before have attained an high degree of perfection. But they who, in learning a language different from their native tongue, have found it necessary to pay particular attention to the principles of grammar, afterwards apply the knowledge of grammar which they have thus acquired in using their mother-tongue; and by that means become better acquainted with its structure, and learn to write and speak it with more correctness and propriety. Besides, the languages of Greece and Rome are so highly distinguished for their copiousness, their regular analogy, and for various other excellencies, which render them superior to even the chief of modern languages, that the study of them has a natural tendency to improve and enrich modern languages. If we look backwards to the 15th century, when learning began to revive in Europe, and that species of learning which began first to be cultivated was classical literature, we find that almost all the languages then spoken in Europe were wretchedly poor and barbarous. Knowledge could not be communicated, nor business transacted, without calling in the aid of Latin. Classical learning, however, soon came to be cultivated by all ranks with enthusiastic eagerness. Not only those designed to pursue a learned profession, and men of fortune whose object was a liberal education without a view to any particular profession; but even the lower ranks, and the female sex, keenly studied the languages and the wisdom of Greece and Rome. This avidity for classical learning was followed by many happy effects. But its influence was chiefly remarkable in producing an amazing change on the form of the living languages. These soon became more copious and regular; and many of them have consequently attained such perfection, that the poet, the historian, and the philosopher, can clothe their thoughts in them to the greatest advantage. Could we derive no new advantage from the study of the ancient languages, yet would they be worthy of our care, as having contributed so much to raise the modern languages to their present improved state. But they can also conduce to the preservation and support of those noble structures which have been reared by their assistance. The intercourse of nations, the affection of writers, the gradual introduction of provincial barbarisms, and various other causes, have a tendency to corrupt and debauch even the noblest languages. By such means were the languages of Greece and Rome gradually corrupted, till the language used by a Horace, a Livy, a Xenophon, and a Menander, was lost in a jargon unfit for the purposes of composition. But if we would not disdain to take advantage of them, the classical works in those languages might prevent that which we use from experiencing such a decline. He who knows and admires the excellencies of the ancient languages, and the beauties of those writers who have rendered them so celebrated, will be the firm enemy of barbarism, affectation, and negligence, whenever they attempt to debauch his mother-tongue. We venture therefore to assert, that when the polished languages of antiquity cease to be studied among us, our native tongue will then lose its purity, regularity, and other excellencies, and gradually decline till it be no longer known for the language of Pope and of Addison; and we adduce it as an argument in behalf of classical learning, that it has contributed so much to the improvement of the living languages, and is almost the only means that can prevent them from being corrupted and debauched.

In those plans of education of which the study of For inuring the dead languages does not make a part, proper means are seldom adopted for impressing the youthful mind with habits of industry: nor do the judgment, the memory, and the other powers of the mind, receive equal improvement, as they pass not through the same exercises as in a classical education. Let us enter those academies where the way to a complete education leads not through the thorny and rugged paths of classical literature; let us attend to the exercises which the polite teachers cause their pupils to perform. Do they insist on laborious industry or intense application? No; they can communicate knowledge without requiring laborious study. They profess to allow their pupils to enjoy the sweets of idleness, and yet render them prodigies of learning. But are their magnificent promises ever fulfilled? Do they indeed cultivate the understandings of the young people intrusted to their care? They do not; their care is never once directed to this important object. To adorn them with showy and superficial qualities, is all that those gentlemen aim at. Hence, when their pupils come to enter the world and engage in the duties of active life, they appear destitute of every manly qualification. Though they have attained the age and grown up to the size of manhood, their understandings are still childish and feeble; they are capricious, unsteady, incapable of industry or fortitude, and unable to pursue any particular object with keen, unremitting perseverance. That long series of study and regular application, which is requisite in order to attain skill in the ancient languages, produces much happier effects on the youthful mind. The power of habit is universally felt and acknowledged. As he who is permitted to trifle away the earliest part of his life in idleness or in frivolous occupations, can scarce be expected to display any manly or vigorous qualities when he reaches a more mature age; so, on the contrary, he whose earlier days have been employed in exercising his memory and furnishing it with valuable treasures, in cultivating his judgment and reasoning powers by calling the one to make frequent distinctions between various objects, and the other to deduce many inferences from the comparison of the various objects presented to the understanding, and also in strengthening and improving the acuteness of his moral powers by attending to human actions and characters, and distinguishing between them, as virtuous or vicious, as mean or glorious; he who has thus cultivated his powers, may be naturally ex- Education, expected to distinguish himself when he comes to perform his part in active life, by prudence, activity, firmness, perseverance, and most of the other noble qualities which can adorn a human character. But in the course of a classical education, the powers of the mind receive this cultivation; and therefore these happy effects may be expected to follow from it. The repetitions which are required afford improving exercise to the memory, and store it with the most valuable treasures: the powers of the understanding are employed in observing the distinctions between words; in tracing words to their substances and qualities in nature which they are used to represent; in comparing the words and idioms of different languages, and in tracing the laws of their analogy and construction; while our moral faculties are at the same time improved, by attending to the characters which are described, and the events and actions which are related, in those books which we are directed to peruse in order to acquire the ancient languages. We assert therefore, that the study of the ancient languages is particularly useful for improving and strengthening all the powers of the mind; and, by that means, for preparing us to act our part in life in a becoming manner; and this our readers will readily agree with us in considering as a weighty argument in behalf of that plan of education.

But if, after all, classical learning is still to be given up, where shall we find the same treasures of moral wisdom, of elegance, and of useful historical knowledge, which the celebrated writers of Greece and Rome afford? Will you content yourself with the modern writers of Italy, France, and England? Or will you deign to survey the beauties of Homer and Virgil through the medium of a translation? No surely; let us penetrate to those sources from which the modern writers have derived most of the excellencies which recommend them to our notice; let us disdain to be imposed upon by the whims or the ignorance of a translator.

Farther, classical learning has long been cultivated among us; and both by the stores of knowledge which it has conveyed to the mind, and the habits which it has impressed, has contributed in no small degree to form many illustrious characters. In reviewing the annals of our country, we will scarce find an eminent politician, patriot, general, or philosopher, during the two last centuries, who did not spend his earlier years in the study of the classics.

Yet though we have mentioned these things in favour of classical literature, and were we to descend to minute particulars might enumerate many more facts and circumstances to recommend it; we mean not to argue that it is absolutely impossible to be a wise, a great, or a good man, unless you are skilled in Greek and Latin. Means may, no doubt, be adopted to inspire the young mind with virtuous dispositions, to call forth the powers of the youthful understanding, and to impress habits of industry and vigorous perseverance, without having recourse to the discipline of a grammar school. But we cannot help thinking, for the reasons which we have stated to our readers, that a classical education is the most likely to produce these happy effects.

As we are afterwards to take particular notice of the course of education most suitable for those who are to occupy the humble stations in society, we shall not here inquire whether it be proper to introduce them to an acquaintance with the Greek and Latin classics.

VI. On the Education of People of Rank and Fortune.

Those whom the kindness of Providence has placed in an elevated station, and in affluent circumstances, people of so that they seem to be born rather to the enjoyment of wealth and honours than to act in any particular profession or employment, have notwithstanding a certain duty assigned them to perform, and many important duties to fulfil. They are members of society, and enjoy the protection of the civil institutions of that society to which they belong; they must therefore contribute what they can to the support of those institutions. The labours of the industrious poor are necessary to supply them with the luxuries of life; and they must know how to distribute their wealth with prudence and generosity among the poor. They enjoy much leisure; and they ought to know how to employ their leisure hours in an innocent and agreeable manner. Besides, as their circumstances enable them to attract the regard and respect of those who are placed in inferior stations, and as the poor are ever ready to imitate the conduct of their superiors; it is necessary that they endeavour to adorn their wealth and honours by the most eminent virtues, in order that their example may have an happy influence on the manners of the community.

There education ought therefore to be conducted with a view to these ends. After what we have urged in favour of a classical education, our readers will naturally presume that we regard it as highly proper for a man of fortune. The youth who is destined to the How to enjoyment of wealth and honours, cannot spend his form the earlier years more advantageously than in gaining an temper of acquaintance with the elegant remains of antiquity. The benefits to be derived from classical learning are tune, peculiarly necessary to him. Care must be taken to preserve him from acquiring an haughty, fierce, imperious temper. The attention usually paid to the children of people of fortune, and the foolish fondness with which they are too often treated, have a direct tendency to inspire them with high notions of their own importance, and to render them passionate, overbearing, and conceited. But if their temper acquire this bias even in childhood, what may be expected when they advance towards manhood, when their attention is likely to be oftener turned to the dignity and importance of that rank which they occupy, and to the pitiful humility of those beneath them? Why, they are likely to be so proud, insolent, resentful, and revengeful, as to render themselves disagreeable and hateful to all who know them; and besides, to be incapable of those delightful feelings which attend humane, benevolent, and mild dispositions. Let the man of fortune, therefore, as he is concerned for the future happiness and dignity of his child, be no less careful to prevent him from being treated in such a manner as to be inspired with haughtiness, caprice, and insolence, than to prevent his mind from being soured by harsh and tyrannical usage.

The manly exercises, as they are favourable to the health, the strength, and even the morals; so they are highly highly worthy of engaging the attention of the young gentleman. Dancing, fencing, running, horsemanship, the management of the musket, and the motions of military discipline, are none of them unworthy of occupying his time, at proper seasons. It is unnecessary to point out the advantages which he may derive from dancing; these seem to be pretty generally understood. Perhaps our men of fortune would be ashamed to make use of their legs for running; but occasions may occur, on which even this humble accomplishment may be useful. Though we wish not to see the young man of fortune become a jockey; yet to be able to make a graceful appearance on horseback, and to manage his horse with dexterity, will not be unworthy of his station and character. If times of public danger should arise, and the state should call for the services of her subjects against any hostile attack, they whose rank and fortune place them in the most eminent stations will be first expected to stand forth; but if unacquainted with those exercises which are connected with the military art, what a pitiful figure must they make in the camp, or on the field of battle?

As the man of fortune may perhaps enjoy by hereditary right, or may be called by the voice of his fellow-citizens, to a seat among the legislative body of his country; he ought in his youth to be carefully instructed in the principles of her political constitution, and of those laws by which his own rights and the rights of his fellow-citizens are determined and secured.

Natural philosophy, as being both highly useful and entertaining, is well worthy of the attention of all who can afford to appropriate any part of their time to scientific pursuits; to the man of fortune, a taste for natural philosophy might often procure the most delightful entertainment. To trace the wonders of the planetary systems, to mark the process of vegetation, to examine all the properties of that fine element which we breathe, to trace the laws by which all the different elements are confined to their proper functions, and above all to apply the principles of natural philosophy in the cultivation of the ground, are amusements which might agreeably and innocently occupy many of the leisure hours of the man who enjoys a splendid and independent fortune.

Neither do we suppose civil history and the principles of morals to be overlooked. Without being acquainted with these, how could any just or accurate knowledge of the laws and political constitution of his country be acquired by the young gentleman? History exposes to our observation the fortune and the actions of other human beings, and thus supplies in some measure the place of experience; it teaches prudence, and affords exercise to the moral sense. When history condescends to take notice of individuals, they are almost always such as have been eminent for virtue, for abilities, or for the rank which they held in life; to the rich and great it ought to speak with peculiar efficacy, and they ought to be carefully invited to listen to its voice.

Such then is the manner in which we wish the education of young men of rank and fortune to be conducted, in order that they may be prepared for enjoying their opulence and honours with becoming dignity. Let them be early inured to habits of vigorous industry and persevering firmness, by passing through a regular course of classical learning in a free school; let them play and converse with their equals, and not be permitted to form high ideas of their own importance, nor to domineer over servants or inferiors: Let them be carefully instructed in the principles of morality and religion: Let them be taught the manly exercises: Let them be carefully informed of the nature of the political constitution of their country, and of the extent of those civil and political rights which it secures to them and their fellow-citizens: Let them be called to trace the annals of mankind through the records of history; to mark the appearances and operations of nature, and to amuse themselves by pursuing these to their general causes. We say nothing of causing the young man of fortune to learn some mechanical art: We think skill in a mechanical art might now and then afford him an innocent and pleasing amusement; but we do not consider it as absolutely necessary, and therefore do not insist on his acquiring it. With those accomplishments we hope he might become an useful member of society, might adorn the rank and fortune to which he is born, and might find wealth and high station a blessing, not a curse. It is peculiarly unfortunate for our age and country, that people of rank and fortune are not so studious that their children acquire these as the more superficial accomplishments.

VII. On the Education of People designed for a Mercantile Employment, and for the humbler Occupations in Life not particularly connected with Literature.

Were modern literature in a less flourishing state; were the English and French languages adorned with fewer eminent poetical, historical, and philosophical compositions; we might perhaps insist on it as necessary to give the boy, who is designed for a mercantile employment, a classical education. At present this does not appear absolutely necessary; yet we do not presume to forbid it as improper. Even the elegant literature, having been introduced to the acquaintance of Plato and Cicero. But still, if the circumstances of the parent, or any other just reason, should render it inconvenient to send the young man who is intended for trade to a free school to study the ancient languages, means may be easily adopted to make up for his loss. Confine him not to writing and accounts alone. These, though particularly useful to the merchant, have no great power to restrain the force of evil passions, or to inspire the mind with generous and virtuous sentiments. Though you burden him not with Latin and Greek, yet strive to inspire him with a taste for useful knowledge and for elegant literature. Some of the purest and most elegant of our poets, the excellent periodical works which have appeared in our language, such as the Spectator, the Adventurer, the Mirror, and the compositions of our British historians, together with some of the best translations of the classics which we possess; these you may with great propriety put into his hands. They will teach him how to think and reason justly, and to express himself in conversation or in writing with correctness and elegance: they will refine and polish his mind, and raise him above low and gross pleasures. And as no man, who has any occasion to speak or write, ought to be entirely ignorant of the principles of grammar, you will therefore therefore be careful to instruct the young man who is designed for a mercantile occupation in the grammar of his mother-tongue.

A sacred regard to his engagements, and an honesty which may prevent him from taking undue advantages or exacting unreasonable profits, are the virtues which a merchant is most frequently called to exercise; punctuality and integrity are the duties most particularly incumbent on the mercantile profession. Temptations will now and then arise to seduce the merchant to the violation of these. But if superior to every such temptation, he is one of the most illustrious characters, and is likely to be one of the most successful merchants. From his earliest years, then, labour to inspire the child whom you intend for trade with a sacred regard for truth and justice: let him be taught to view deceit and fraud, and the violation of a promise, with abhorrence and disdain. Frugality is a virtue which, in the present age, seems to be antiquated or proscribed. Even the merchant often appears better skilled in the arts of profusion than in those of parsimony. The miser, a character at no time viewed as amiable, is at present beheld with double detestation and contempt. Yet, notwithstanding these unfavourable circumstances, fear not to impress on the young merchant habits of frugality. Let him know the folly of beginning to spend a fortune before he have acquired it. Let him be taught to regard a regular attention to confine his expenses within due bounds, as one of the first virtues which can adorn his character.

Frugality and industry are so closely connected, that when we recommend the one of them to the merchant, we will be naturally understood to recommend the other also. It is easy to see, that, without industrious application, no man can reasonably expect to meet with success in the occupation in which he engages; and if the merchant thinks proper to leave his business to the management of clerks and shop-keepers, it is not very probable that he will quickly accumulate a fortune. It is, therefore, no less necessary, that he who is intended for trade be early accustomed to habits of sober application, and be carefully restrained from volatility and levity, than that he be instructed in writing, arithmetic, and keeping of accounts.

With these virtues and qualifications the merchant is likely to be respectable, and not unsuccessful, while he continues to prosecute his trade; and if, by the blessing of Providence, he be at length enabled to accumulate a moderate fortune, his acquaintance with elegant literature, and the virtuous habits which he has acquired, will enable him to enjoy it with taste and dignity. Indeed, all the advantages which a man without taste, or knowledge, or virtue, can derive from the possession of even the most splendid fortune, are so inconsiderable, that they can be no adequate reward for the toil which he undergoes, and the mean arts which he practises in acquiring it. At the head of a great fortune a fool can only make himself more ridiculous, and a man of a wicked and vicious character more generally abhorred, than if fortune had kindly concealed their crimes and follies by placing them in a more obscure station.

A considerable part of the members of society are placed in such circumstances, that it is impossible for them to receive the advantages of a liberal education. The mechanic and the husbandman, who earn a subsistence by their daily labour, can seldom afford, whatever parental fondness may suggest, to favour their children with many opportunities of literary instruction. Content if they can provide them with food and raiment till such time as they acquire sufficient strength to labour for their own support, parents in those humble circumstances seldom think it necessary that they should concern themselves about giving their children learning. Happily it is not requisite that those who are destined to spend their days in this low sphere should be furnished with much literary or scientific knowledge. They may be taught to read their mother tongue, to write, and to perform some of the most common and the most generally useful operations of arithmetic: for without an acquaintance with the art of reading, it will scarce be possible for them to acquire any rational knowledge of the doctrines and precepts of religion, or of the duties of morality; the invaluable volume of the sacred scriptures would be sealed to them: we may allow them to write, in order that they may be enabled to enjoy the sweet satisfaction of communicating accounts of their welfare to their absent friends; and, besides, both writing and arithmetic are necessary for the accomplishment of those little transactions which pass among them. It would be hard, if even the lowest and poorest were denied these simple and easily acquired branches of education; and happily that degree of skill in them which is necessary for the labourer and the mechanic may be attained without greater expense than may be afforded by parents in the meanest circumstances. Let the youth who is born to pass his days in this humble station be carefully taught to consider honest patient industry as one of the first of virtues: let him be taught to regard the sluggard as one of the most contemptible of characters: teach him contentment with his lot, by letting him know that wealth and honour seldom confer superior happiness: Yet scruple not to inform him, that if he can raise himself above the humble condition to which he was born, by honest arts, by abilities virtuously exerted, he may find some comfort in affluent circumstances, and may find reason to rejoice that he has been virtuous, industrious, and active. In teaching him the principles of religion, be careful to show him religion as intimately connected with morality: teach him none of those mysterious doctrines, whose sole tendency is to foster that enthusiasm which naturally prevails among the vulgar, and to persuade them that they may be pious without being virtuous. Labour to inspire him with an invincible abhorrence for lying, fraud, and theft. Inspire him with an high esteem for chastity, and with an awful regard to the duties of a son, an husband, and a father. Thus may he become respectable and happy, even in his humble station and indigent circumstances; a character infinitely superior, in the eyes of both God and man, to the rich and great man who misemploys his wealth and leisure in shameful and vicious pursuits.

VIII. On the Education of the Female Sex.

The abstracts which we have given of some of the most celebrated and original treatises on education, as well as our own observations on this subject, have been hitherto either relative to the education of both the sexes, or directed chiefly to the education of the male sex. But as there is a natural difference between the charac- ters of the two sexes, and as there are certain duties peculiar to each of them; it is easy to see that the education of the boy and that of the girl cannot, ought not, to be conducted precisely in the same manner. And since the duties of the female sex are so important to society, and they form so considerable a part of our species; their education, therefore, merits the highest attention.

In infancy, the instincts, the dispositions, and the faculties of boys and girls seem to be nearly the same. They discover the same curiosity, and the same disposition to activity. For a while they are fond of the same sports and amusements. But by and by, when we begin to make a distinction in their dress; when the girl begins to be more confined to a sedentary life under her mother's eye, while the boys are permitted to ramble about without doors; the distinction between their characters begins to be formed, and their taste and manners begin to become different. The boy now imitates the arts and the active amusements of his father; digs and plants a little garden, builds a house in miniature, shoots his bow, or draws his little cart; while the girl, with no less emulation, imitates her mother, knits, sews, and dresses her doll. They are no longer merely children: the one is now a girl; the other a boy. This taste for female arts, which the girl so easily and naturally acquires, has been judiciously taken notice of by Rousseau, as affording an happy opportunity for instructing her in a very considerable part of those arts which it is proper to teach her. While the girl is busied in adorning her doll, she insensibly becomes expert at needle-work, and learns how to adjust her own dress in a becoming manner. And therefore, if she be kindly treated, it will not be a matter of difficulty to prevail with her to apply to these branches of female education. Her mother or governesses, if capable of managing her with mildness and prudence, may teach her to read with great facility. For being already more disposed to sedentary application than the boy of the same age, the confinement to which she must submit in order to learn to read will be less irksome to her. Some have pretended that the reasoning powers of girls begin to exert themselves sooner than those of boys. But, as we have already declared our opinion, that the reasoning powers of children of both sexes begin to display themselves at a very early period; so we do not believe that those of the one sex begin to appear, or attain maturity, sooner than those of the other. But the different occupations and amusements in which we cause them to engage from their earliest years, naturally call forth their powers in different manners, and perhaps cause the one to imitate our modes of speaking and behaviour sooner than the other. However, as we wish both boys and girls to learn the art of reading at a very early age, even as soon as they are capable of any serious application; so we wish girls to be taught the art of writing, arithmetic, and the principles of religion and morals, in the same order in which these are inculcated on boys.

We need not point out the reasons which induce us to regard these as accomplishments proper for the female sex: they seem to be generally considered as not only suitable, but necessary. It is our most important privilege, as beings placed in a situation different from that of the inferior animals, that we are capable of religious sentiments and religious knowledge; it therefore becomes us to communicate religious instruction with no less assiduity and care to the youth of the female sex than to those of our own. Besides, as the care of children during their earlier years belongs in a particular manner to the mother; she, therefore, whom nature has destined to the important duties of a mother, ought to be carefully prepared for the proper discharge of those duties, by being accurately instructed, in her youth, in such things as it will be afterwards requisite for her to teach her children.

Ladies have sometimes distinguished themselves as prodigies of learning. Many of the most eminent geniuses of the French nation have been of the female sex. Several of our countrywomen have also made a respectable figure in the republic of letters. Yet we cannot approve of giving girls a learned education, coming in To acquire the accomplishments which are more proper for their sex, will afford sufficient employment for their earlier years. If they be instructed in the grammar of their mother-tongue, and taught to read and speak it with propriety; be taught to write a fair hand, and to perform with readiness the most useful operations of arithmetic; if they be instructed in the nature of the duties which they owe to God, to themselves, and to society; this will be almost all the literary instruction necessary for them. Yet we do not mean to forbid them an acquaintance with the literature of their country. The periodical writers, who have taught all the duties of morality, the decencies of life, and the principles of taste, in so elegant and pleasing a manner, may with great propriety be put into the hands of our female pupil. Neither will we deny her the historians, the most popular voyages and travels, and such of our British poets as may be put into her hands without corrupting her heart or inflaming her passions. But could our opinion or advice have so much influence, we would endeavour to persuade our countrymen and countrywomen to banish from among them the novelists, those panders of vice, with no less determined severity than that with which Plato excludes the poets from his republic, or that with which the converts to Christianity, mentioned in the Acts, condemned their magical volumes to the flames. Unhappily, novels and plays are almost the only species of reading in which the young people of the present age take delight; and nothing has contributed more effectually to bring on that dissolute state of manners which prevails among all ranks.

But we will not discover so much austerity as to express a wish that the education of the female sex should be confined solely to such things as are plain and useful. We forbid not those accomplishments which are merely ornamental, and the design of which is to render them amiable in the eyes of the other sex. When we consider the duties for which they are destined by nature, we find that the art of pleasing constitutes no inconsiderable part of these; and it would be wrong, therefore, to deny them those arts, the end of which is to enable them to please. Let them endeavour to acquire taste in dress; to dress in a neat, graceful manner, to suit colours to her complexion, and the figure of her clothes to her shape, is no small accomplishment for a young woman. She who is rigged out by the taste and dexterity of her maid and her milliner, is nothing better than a doll. sent abroad to public places as a sample of their handywork. Dancing is a favourite exercise; nay, we might almost call it the favourite study of the fair sex: So many pleasing images are associated with the idea of dancing; dyes, attendance, balls, elegance and grace of motion irresistible, admiration, and courtship: and these are so early inculcated on the young by mothers and maids, that we need not be surprised if little Misses consider her lesson of dancing as a matter of much more importance than either her book or sampler. And indeed, though the public in general seem at present to place too high a value on dancing; and though the undue estimation which is paid to it seems owing to that taste for dissipation, and that rage for public amusements, which naturally prevail amid such refinement and opulence; yet still dancing is an accomplishment which both sexes may cultivate with considerable advantage. It has an happy effect on the figure, the air, and the carriage; and we know not if it be not favourable even to dignity of mind: Yet, as to be even a first-rate poet or painter, and to value himself on his genius in these arts, would be no real ornament to the character of a great monarch; so any very superior skill in dancing must serve rather to disgrace than to adorn the lady or the gentleman. There are some arts in which, though a moderate degree of skill may be useful or ornamental, yet superior taste and knowledge are rather hurtful, as they have a tendency to seduce us from the more important duties which we owe to ourselves and to society. Of these, dancing seems to be one: It is said of a certain Roman lady, by an eloquent historian, "that she was more skilled in dancing than became a modest and virtuous woman."

Music, also, is an art in which the youth of the female sex are pretty generally instructed; and if their voice and ear be such as to enable them to attain any excellence in vocal music, it may conduce greatly to increase their influence over our sex, and may afford a pleasing and elegant amusement to their leisure hours. The harpsichord and the spinet are instruments often touched by female hands; nor do we presume to forbid the ladies to exercise their delicate fingers in calling forth the enchanting sounds of these instruments. But still, if your daughter have no voice or ear for music, compel her not to apply to it.

Drawing is another accomplishment which generally enters into the plan of female education. Girls are usually taught to aim at some scratches with a pencil; but when they grow up, they either lay it totally aside, or else apply to it with so much assiduity as to neglect their more important duties. We do not consider skill in drawing, any more than skill in poetry, as an accomplishment very necessary for the ladies; yet we agree with Rousseau, that as far as it can contribute to improve their taste in dyes, it may not be improper for them to pursue it. They may very properly be taught to sketch and colour flowers; but we do not wish them to forget or lay aside this as soon as the drawing-master is dismissed; let them retain it to be useful through life. Though pride can never be lovely, even in the fairest female form; yet ought the young woman to be carefully impressed with a due respect for herself. This will join with her native modesty to be the guardian of her virtue, and to preserve her from levity and impropriety of conduct.

Such are the hints which have occurred to us on the Education proper for the female sex, as far as it ought to be conducted in a manner different from that of the male.

IX. Public and private Education.

One question usually discussed by the writers on this subject has not hitherto engaged our attention. It is, Whether it be most proper to educate a young man privately, or send him to receive his education at a public school? This question has been so often agitated, and by people enjoying opportunities of receiving all the information which experience can furnish on the subject, that we cannot be expected to advance any new argument of importance on either side. Yet we may state what has been urged both on the one and the other.

They who have considered children as receiving their education in the house and under the eye of their parents, and as secluded in a great measure from the society of other children, have been sometimes led to consider this situation as particularly favourable for their acquiring useful knowledge, and being formed to virtuous habits. Though we reap many advantages from mingling in social life, yet in society we are also tainted with many vices to which he who passes his life in solitary retirement is a stranger. At whatever period of life we begin to mix with the world, we still find that we have not yet acquired sufficient strength to resist those temptations to vice with which we are there assailed. But if we are thus ready to be infected with the contagion of vice, even at any age, no other argument can be necessary to show the propriety of confining children from those dangerous scenes in which this infection is so easily caught. And whoever surveys the state of morals in a public school with careful and candid attention, even though it be under the management of the most virtuous, judicious, and affilious teachers, will find reason to acknowledge, that the empire of vice is established there not less fully than in the great world. Nothing, therefore, can be more negligent or inhuman, than for parents to expose their children to those seductions which a great school presents, at a time when they are strongly disposed to imitate any example set before them, and have not yet learned to distinguish between such examples as are worthy of imitation, and those which ought to be beheld with abhorrence. Even when under the parent's eye, from intercourse with servants and visitors their native innocence is likely to suffer considerably. Yet the parent's care will be much more likely to preserve the manners of his child uncorrupted in his own house, than any assiduity and watchfulness of his teachers in a school.

The morals and dispositions of a child ought to be the first objects of our concern in conducting his education: but to initiate him in the principles of useful knowledge is also an important object; and it will be happy, if in a private education virtue be not only better secured, but knowledge also more readily acquired, than in a public. But this actually happens. When one or two boys are committed to the care of a judicious tutor, he can watch the most favourable seasons for communicating instruction; he can awake curiosity and command attention by the gentle arts of infatuation; though he strive not to inflame their breasts with emulation, which leads often to envy and inve- rate hatred; yet he will succeed in rendering learning pleasing by other means less likely to produce unfavourable effects on the temper and dispositions of his pupils. As his attention is not divided among a number, he can pay more regard to the particular dispositions and turn of mind of each of his pupils; he can encourage him who is modest and slow, and repress the quickness and volatility of the other; and he can call forth and improve their powers, by leading them at one time to view the scenes of nature and the changes which she successively undergoes through the varying seasons; at another, to attend to some of the most entertaining experiments of natural philosophy; and again alluring them artfully to their literary exercises. With these he may mix some active games; and he may affuse so much of the fondness of the parent, as to join in them with his little pupils. These are certainly circumstances favourable both to the happiness and to the literary improvement of youth; but they are peculiar to a private education. Besides, in a private education, as children spend more of their time with grown up people than in a public; those, therefore, who receive a domestic education, sooner acquire our manner of thinking, of expressing ourselves, and of behaving, in our ordinary intercourse with one another. For the very same reason for which girls are often observed to be capable of prudence and propriety of behaviour at an earlier age than boys, those boys who receive a family education will begin sooner to think and act like men, than those who pass their earlier days in a public seminary. And though you educate your son at home, there is no reason why he should be more accustomed to domineer over his inferiors, or to indulge a capricious or inhumane disposition, than if he were brought up among fifty boys, all of the same age, size, and rank, with himself. He may also, in a private education, exercise his limbs with the same activity as in a public one. He cannot, indeed, engage in those sports for which a party of companions is necessary; but still there are a thousand objects which will call forth his activity: if in the country, he will be disposed to fish, to climb for bird-nests, to imitate all that he sees performed by labourers and mechanics: in short, he will run, leap, throw and carry stones, and keenly exert himself in a variety of exercises, which will produce the most favourable effects on the powers both of his mind and body. It may indeed be possible for you to oppose the designs of nature so effectually, if you take pains for that purpose, as to repress the natural activity of your child or pupil, and cause him to pine away his time in littleless indolence; but you will thus do violence to his dispositions, as well as to those instincts which nature has so wisely purposed implanted in his breast. And the bad consequences which may result from this management are not to be considered as the natural effects of a domestic education, but as the effects of an education carelessly or imprudently conducted.

But there is another consideration which will perhaps be still more likely than any of those which we have hitherto urged, to prevail with the fond parent to give his child a private education. As the infant who is abandoned by its mother to the care of an hireling nurse, naturally transfers its affection from the unnatural parent to the person who supplies her room and performs the duties incumbent upon her; so the boy who is banished from his parent's house at a time when he has scarcely begun to know the relation in which he stands to his father and mother, brothers or sisters, soon ceases to regard them with that fondness which he had contracted for them from living in their company and receiving their good offices. His respect, his affection, and his kindness, are bestowed on new objects, perhaps on his master or his companions; or else his heart becomes selfish and destitute of every tender and generous feeling; and when the gentle and amiable affections of filial and fraternal love are thus, as it were, torn up by the roots, every evil passion springs up, with a rapid growth, to supply their place. The boy returns afterwards to his father's house; but he returns as a stranger; he is no longer capable of regarding his parents and relations with the same tenderness of affection. He is now a stranger to that filial love which springs up in the breast of the child who is constantly sensible of the tender care of his parents, and spends his earlier years under their roof, in such a manner as to appear the effect of instinct rather than of habit. Selfish views are now the only bond which attaches him to his parents and relations; and by coming under their influence at so early a period of life, he is rendered forever incapable of all the most amiable virtues which can adorn human nature. Let the parent, therefore, who loves his child, and wishes to obtain from him a mutual return of affection, beware of excluding him from his house, and devolving the sole charge of him upon another, in his childhood.

These views represent a private education as the most favourable to virtue, to knowledge, and to the mutual affection which ought always to unite the parent and his child. But let us now listen to the arguments which are usually urged in behalf of a public education.

In the first place, it has been asserted, that a public education is much more favourable than a private to the pupil's improvement in knowledge, and much education more likely to inspire him with an ardour for learning. In a private education, with whatever assiduity and tenderness you labour to render learning agreeable to your pupil, still it will be but an irksome task. You may confine him to his books but for a very short space in the course of the day, and allow him an alternation of study and recreation. Still, however, you will never be able to render his books the favourite objects of his attention. He will apply to them with reluctance and careless indifference: even while he seems engaged on his lesson, his mind will be otherwise occupied; it will wander to the scenes where he pursues his diversions, and to those objects which have attracted his desires. If the period during which you require his application be extremely short; during the first part of it, he will still be thinking of the amusements from which you have called him, and regretting his confinement; during the last, he will fondly anticipate the moment when he is to be set at liberty, and think of new amusements. Again, if you confine him during a longer period, still more unfavourable effects will follow. Peculiarity, dulness, and a determined aversion to all that bears the name of literature, will How can it be otherwise? Books possess so few of those qualities which recommend any object to the attention of children, that they cannot be naturally agreeable. They have nothing to attract and detain the eye, the ear, or any of the senses; they present things with which children are unacquainted, and of which they know not the value: children cannot look beyond the letters and words, to the things which these represent; and even though they could, yet is it much more pleasing to view scenes and objects as they exist originally in nature, than to trace their images in a faint and imperfect representation. It is vain, therefore, to hope that children will be prevailed with to pay attention to books by means of any allurements which books can of themselves present. Other means must be used; but those in a private education you cannot command. In a public seminary, the situation of matters with respect to their pupils is widely different. When a number of boys meet together in the same school, each of them soon begins to feel the impulse of a principle which enables the matter to command their attention without difficulty, and prompts them to apply with cheerful ardour to tasks which would otherwise be extremely irksome. This principle is a generous emulation, which animates the breast with the desire of superior excellence, without inspiring envy or hatred of a competitor. When children are prudently managed in a great school, it is impossible for them not to feel its impulse. It renders their talks less agreeable than their amusements, and directs their activity and curiosity to proper objects. View the scholar at a public school, composing his theme, or turning over his dictionary; how alert! how cheerful! how indefatigable! He applies with all the eagerness, and all the perseverance, of a candidate for one of the most honourable places in the temple of fame. Again, behold and pity that poor youth who is confined to his chamber with no companion but his tutor; none whose superiority can provoke his emulation, or whose inferiority might flatter him with thoughts of his own excellence, and thus move him to preserve by industrious application the advantages which he has already gained. His book is before him; but how languid, how listless his posture! how heavy and dull his eye! Nothing is expressed in his countenance but dejection or indignation. Examine him concerning his lesson; he replies with confusion and hesitation. After a few minutes observation, you cannot fail to be convinced that he has spent his time without making any progress in learning; that his spirits are now broken, his natural cheerfulness destroyed, and his breast armed with invincible prejudices against all application in the pursuit of literary knowledge. Besides, in a school there is something more than emulation to render learning less disagreeable than it naturally is to children. The slightest observation of life, or attention to our own conduct in various circumstances, will be sufficient to convince us, that whenever mankind are placed in circumstances of distress, or subjected to any disagreeable restraint, that which a single person bears with impatience or dejection will make a much less impression on his mind if a number of companions be joined with him in his suffering or restraint. It is esteemed a piece of much greater severity to confine a prisoner in a solitary cell, than when he is permitted to mix with others in the same uncomfortable situation. A journey appears much less tedious to a party of travellers, than to him who beats the path alone. In the same manner, when a number of boys in a great school are all buffeted on the same or on similar tasks, a spirit of industry and perseverance is communicated from one to another over the whole circle; each of them insensibly acquires new ardour and vigour; even though he feel not the spur of emulation, yet, while all are busy around him, he cannot remain idle. These are facts obvious to the most careless observer.

Neither are public schools so unfavourable to the virtue of their members as they have been represented to be. If the masters are men of virtue and prudence, careful to set a good example before their pupils, attentive to the particular character and behaviour of each individual among them, firm to punish obstinate and incorrigible depravity, and even to expel those who are more likely to injure the morals of others than to be reclaimed themselves, and at the same time eager to applaud and to encourage amiable and virtuous dispositions wherever they appear; under the government of such masters, a public school will not fail to be a school of virtue. There will no doubt be particular individuals among the pupils of such a seminary, whose morals may be corrupt and their dispositions vicious; but this, in all probability, will arise from the manner in which they were managed before entering the school, or from some other circumstances, rather than from their being sent for their education to a public school. Again, at a public school young people enjoy much greater advantages for preparing them to enter the world, than they can possibly be favoured with if brought up in a private and solitary manner. A great school is a miniature representation of the world at large. The objects which engage the attention of boys at a school are different from those which occupy their parents; the views of the boys are less extensive, and they are not yet capable of prosecuting them by so many base and mean arts; but, in other respects, the two scenes and the actors upon them nearly resemble each other; on both you behold contending passions, opposite interests, weaknesses, cunning, folly, and vice. He therefore who has performed his part on the miniature scene, has rehearsed as it were for the greater; if he has acquitted himself well on the one, he may be also expected to distinguish himself on the other; and even he who has not distinguished himself at school, at least enters the world with superior advantages when viewed in comparison with him who has spent his earlier days in the ignorance and solitude of a private and domestic education. Besides, when a number of boys meet at a public seminary of education, separated from their parents and relations; nearly of the same age, engaged in the same studies, and fond of the same amusements; they naturally contract friendships with one another which are more cordial and sincere than any that take place between persons farther advanced in life. A friendship is often formed between two boys at school which continues through life, and is productive of the happiest consequences to each of them. While at school, they mutually assist and encourage each other in their learning; and their mutual affection renders their tasks less burdensome. Education, densome than they might otherwise find them. As they advance in life, their friendship still continues to produce happy effects on their sentiments and conduct; perhaps they are mutually useful to each other by interest or by personal affluence in making their way in the world; or when they are engaged in the cares and bustle of life, their intercourse and correspondence with each other may contribute much to console them amid the vexations and fatigues to which they may be exposed.

Such are the chief arguments usually adduced in favour of a public education. When we compare them with those which have been urged to recommend a private education, we will perhaps find that each has its peculiar advantages. A public education is the more favourable to the acquisition of knowledge, to vigour of mind, and to the formation of habits of industry and fortitude. A private education, when judiciously conducted, will not fail to be peculiarly favourable to innocence and to mildness of disposition; and notwithstanding what has sometimes been advanced by the advocates for a public education, it is surely better to keep youth at a distance from the seductions of vice till they are sufficiently armed against them, than to expose them to them at an age when they know not what dangers they lead, and are wholly unable to resist them. Were we to give implicit credit to the specious talk of the two parties, either a private or a public education would form characters more like to angels than to those men whom we ordinarily meet in the world; but they speak with the ardour of enthusiasts; and therefore we must listen with caution both to the facts which they adduce, and to the inferences which they draw. Could we, without exposing children to the contagion of a great town, procure for them the advantages of both a public and a private education at the same time, we would by this means probably succeed best in rendering them both respectable scholars and good men. If we may presume to give our opinion freely, we would advise parents never, except when some unavoidable necessity of circumstances obliges them, to expel their children from under their own roof till they be advanced beyond their boyish years: let the mother nurse her own child; let her and the father join in superintending its education: they may then expect to be rewarded, if they have acted their parts aright, by commanding the gratitude, the affection, and the respect of their child, while he and they continue to live together. Let matters be so ordered, that the boy may reside in his father's house, and at the same time attend a public school; but let the girl be educated wholly under her mother's eye.

X. On Travel.

Another question which has been often discussed comes here under our review. The philosophers of ancient Greece travelled in search of knowledge. Books were then scarce, and those few which were to be obtained were no very rich treasuries of useful information. The rhapsodies of a poet, the rude legends of some ill-informed and fabulous historian, or the theories of fanciful philosophers, were all that they could afford. Thales, Lycurgus, Solon, Plato, travelled, seeking that knowledge among more civilized nations which they could not find in their native country. In the course of their travels, they heard the lectures of celebrated philosophers; consulted the priests, who were the guardians of the traditions of antiquity, concerning the nature and origin of those traditions; and observed the institutions of those nations which were most renowned for the wisdom of their legislature. When they set out to visit foreign countries, they seem to have proposed to themselves a certain end; and by keeping that end steadily in view during the course of their travels, they gained such improvement as to be able on their return to command the veneration of their countrymen by means of the knowledge which they were enabled to communicate. Many besides the philosophers of ancient Greece have travelled for improvement, and have succeeded in their views. But ancient history does not relate to us, that travelling was considered by the Greeks or Romans as necessary to finish the education of their young men of fortune before they entered the scenes of active life. It is true, after Greece became a province of the Roman empire, and the Romans began to admire the science and elegance of Greece, and to cultivate Grecian literature, the young noblemen of Rome often repaired to Rhodes and Athens to complete their studies under the masters of philosophy and eloquence who taught in those cities. But they went thither with the same views with which our youth in modern times are sent to free schools and universities, not to acquire knowledge by the observation of nature, of the institutions, manners, and customs of nations; but merely to hear lectures, read books, and perform exercises. In modern times, a few men of reflection and experience have now and then travelled for improvement; but the greatest part of our travellers, for a long time, were enthusiastic devotees who went in pilgrimage to visit the shrine or relics of some favourite saint; soldiers, who wandered over the earth to destroy its inhabitants; or merchants, whose business as factors between widely distant countries and nations led them to brave every danger in traversing from one corner of the globe to another. But since the nations of modern Europe have begun to emerge from rudeness, ignorance, and servile depression, they have formed one great commonwealth, the members of which are scarcely less intimately connected with each other than were the states of ancient Greece. The consequence of this mutual connection and dependence is, that almost all the nations of Europe have frequent intercourse with one another; and as some of them are and have long been more enlightened and refined than others, those nations who have attained the highest degrees of civilization and refinement have naturally attracted the admiration and homage of the rest. Their language has been studied, their manners and arts have been adopted, and even their dress has been imitated. Other nations have thronged to pay the homage due to their superior merit, and to study under them as masters. Hence has arisen the practice which at present prevails among us of sending our youth to complete their education by travelling, before we introduce them to active life, or require them to engage in business. Formerly young men were not sent to travel till after they had proceeded through the forms of a regular education, and had at least attained such an age that they were no longer Education, to be considered as mere boys. But the progress of luxury, the desire of parents to introduce their children into the world at an early age that they may early attain to wealth and honours, and various other causes, have gradually introduced the practice of sending mere boys to foreign countries, under pretence of affording them opportunities of shaking off prejudices, of storing their minds with truly useful knowledge, and of acquiring those graceful manners and that manly address which will enable them to acquit themselves in a becoming manner when they are called to the duties of active life. How much travelling at such an early age contributes to fulfil the views of parents, a slight survey of the senate-house, the gambling-houses, the race-course, and the cockpit, will readily convince the sagacious observer.

But we wish to foster no prejudices against neighbouring nations; we entertain no such prejudices in favour of Britain, as to wish to confine our countrymen within the sea-girt isle. Let us inquire, what advantages may be gained by travelling, and at what age it may be most proper to set out in pursuit of those advantages.

After all that bookish men have urged, and notwithstanding all that they may continue vehemently to urge, in behalf of the knowledge to be derived from their beloved books; it must still be acknowledged, that books can teach us little more than merely the language of men. Or, if we should grant that books are of higher importance, and that language is the least valuable part of the knowledge which they teach, yet still we need to beware that they lead us not astray; it is better to examine nature with the naked eye, than to view her through the spectacles of books. Neither the theories or experiments of philosophers, nor the narratives of travellers, nor the relations of historians, though supported by a numerous train of authorities, are worthy of implicit credit. You retire from the world, confine yourself for years to your closet, and read volume after volume, historians, philosophers, and poets; at last you fancy that you have gained an immense store of knowledge: But leave your retirement, return into the world, compare the knowledge which you have treasured up with the appearances of nature; you will find that you have laboured in vain, that it is only the semblance of knowledge which you have acquired, and will not serve for a faithful guide in life, nor even enable you to distinguish yourself for literary merit. Compare the relations of travellers with one another; how seldom do they agree when they describe the same scenes and the same people! Turn your attention to the most respectable historians, compare their accounts of the same events; what disagreement! what contrariety! Where shall truth be found? Listen to the cool, the candid philosophers; what contradictory theories do they build on the same system of facts!

We agree, then, that it is better to seek knowledge by actual observation and experiment, than to receive it at second-hand from the information of others. He who would gain an acquaintance with the beauties of external nature, must view them with his own eyes; he who would know the operations of the human understanding, must reflect upon what passes in his own mind; he who would know the customs, opinions, and manners of any people, must mingle with them, must observe their conduct, and listen to their conversation. The arts are acquired by actual practice; the sciences by actual observation in your own person, and by deducing inferences from your observations.

If therefore to extend our knowledge can contribute in any degree to render us happier, wiser, or better; travelling, as being more favourable to knowledge than the study of books, must be highly advantageous. Get well acquainted with your own country; with the manners, the customs, the laws, and the political situation of your countrymen: Get also a knowledge of books; for books would not be altogether useless, though they could serve no other purpose but to teach us the language in which mankind express themselves: And then, if your judgment have attained maturity; if curiosity prompt you; if your constitution be robust and vigorous, and your spirits lively; you may imitate the Solons, Homers, and Platos of old, and visit foreign countries in search of knowledge, and with a view to bring home something which may be of real utility to yourself and your country. You will, by this time, be so much master of the language of your own country, that you will not lose it while you are learning the languages of foreign nations; your principles of taste and of right and wrong will be so formed and fixed, that you will not despise any institution or custom or opinion merely because it prevails not in your own country; nor yet will you be ready to admire and adopt any thing, merely because it prevails among a foreign nation who are distinguished for profound and extensive knowledge, or for elegance of taste and manners. No; you will divest yourself of every prejudice, and judge only by the fixed unalterable principles which determine the distinction between right and wrong, between truth and falsehood, between beauty and deformity, sublimity and meanness. Your object will not be to learn exotic vices, to mingle in frivolous amusements, or to form a catalogue of inns. Your views, your inquiries, will have a very different direction. You will attend to the state of the arts, of the sciences, of morals, manners, and government; you will also contemplate with eager delight, the grand or beautiful scenes of nature, and examine the vegetable productions of the various regions through which you pass, as well as the different tribes of animals which inhabit them; you will observe what blessings the beneficence of nature has conferred on the inhabitants of each particular division of the globe, and how far the ingenuity and industry of man have taken advantage of the kindness of nature. Thus surveying the face of the earth, and considering how advantages and disadvantages are balanced with each other through every various region and climate from one extremity of the globe to another; you will admire and revere that impartiality with which the Author of nature has distributed his benefits to the whole human race. When from the chilly climes and stubborn soil of the north, you turn your eyes to the fertile, genial regions of the south, where every tree is loaded with exquisite fruits, and every vegetable is nourishing and delicious; you will be pleased to find, that the inhabitants of the north, by their superior ingenuity and vigour, are able to raise themselves to circumstances no less comfortable and respectable than those which the nations inhabiting between the tropics enjoy: when you behold the French shaking off the yoke of despotism, and aspiring to the sweets of liberty as well as their British neighbours; you will be pleased to see, that the natural gaiety and cheerfulness of the former nation render them not incapable of the energy of the latter. You will be pleased to view the remains of antiquity, and the noble monuments of art; but you will think it below you to trifle away your time in gazing at palaces and churches, and collecting rusty medals and fragments of marble; you will seek the society of eminent men, and eagerly cultivate an acquaintance with the most distinguished artists and men of science who adorn the nations among whom you may happen to sojourn: Knowing that the knowledge which is to be acquired in great towns, is by no means an adequate compensation for the vicious habits which you are liable to contract in them; and besides, that the luxuries, the arts, the manners, the virtues, and the vices of all great towns are nearly the same, so that when you have seen one, you have seen all others; you will avoid taking up your residence for any considerable time in any of the great towns through which you have occasion to pass in the course of your travels. The traveller who has attained the previous accomplishments which we have mentioned as necessary, who sets out with the views which we have supposed him to entertain, and who conducts his travels in this manner, cannot fail to return home enriched with much useful knowledge; he cannot but derive more real improvement from travelling, than he could have gained by spending the same period of time in solitary study: when he returns to his native country, he will appear among his countrymen as more than a philosopher; a sage, and a benefactor. His knowledge is so extensive and accurate, his views are so liberal and enlarged, and he is so superior to prejudices, without being the enemy of any useful establishments, that he will be enabled to command universal esteem, by performing his part in life with becoming dignity and propriety, and perhaps to render his name illustrious, and his memory dear to future times, by some important services to the community to which he belongs, or even to mankind in general.

But though we have thus far, and we hope for obstructions that various and solid reasons, decided in favour of travelling, as being more likely than a solitary application to books, to furnish the mind with useful and ornamental knowledge; yet we do not see that our British youth either take care to furnish themselves with the previous knowledge which we consider as indispensably necessary in order to prepare them for travelling with advantage, or set out with proper views, or prosecute their travels in a prudent, judicious manner. After receiving a very imperfect education, in which religious and moral instruction are almost wholly neglected, and no means are used to inspire the youthful mind with solid, virtuous, manly qualities; but every art is tried to make the young man appear learned, while his mind is destitute of all useful information, and to teach him to assume the confidence of manhood before he has attained even to a moderate degree of sense and prudence;—after an education conducted in this manner, and with these views, the stripling is sent abroad to view the world, and is expected to return home a finished character, an ornament and a comfort to his parents and all his connections. He is hitherto unacquainted, perhaps, even with the simple events of the history of his native country; and either totally ignorant of classical literature, or but very superficially instructed in it. He has not yet viewed with a discerning eye the manners and customs prevailing among his countrymen; he knows not the nature of the government under which he lives, nor the spirit of those laws by which his civil conduct must be regulated. He has no fixed principles; no clear, distinct views. But to supply all his wants of this nature, he is put into the hands of a travelling governor, who is to be entirely submissive to his will, and yet to serve him both for eyes and intellect. This governor is generally either some macaroni officer who is considered as well bred, and thought to know the world; or else, perhaps, some cringing soul of literature, who having spent much time among his books, without acquiring such strength or dignity of mind as to raise him above frivolity of manners and conversation or pitiful fawning arts, is therefore regarded as happily qualified for this important charge. This respectable personage and his pupil are shipped off for France, that land of elegant dissipation, frivolity, and fashion. They travel on with eager impatience till they reach the capital. There the young man is industriously introduced to all the gay scenes which Paris can display. He is, at first, confounded; by and by his senses are fascinated; new desires are awakened in his breast; all around him he sees the sons of dissipation wallowing in debauchery, or the children of vanity fluttering about like so many gaudy insects. The poor youth has no fixed principles; he has not been taught to regard vanity as ridiculous, or to turn from vice with abhorrence. No attempt is made to allure him to those objects, an attention to which can alone render travelling truly beneficial. Hitherto his mind had been left almost wholly uncultivated; and now, the seeds of vice are plentifully sown in it. From one great town he is conveyed to another, till he visits almost every place in Europe where profligacy of manners has attained to any uncommon height. In this happy course of education he probably continues to pursue improvement till he is well acquainted with most of the post-roads, the principal inns, and the great towns at least in France and Italy; and perhaps till he has worn out his constitution, and rendered his mind totally incapable of any generous sentiments or sober reflection. He then returns to his native country, to the inexpressible happiness of his parents, who now eagerly long to embrace their all-accomplished child. But how miserably are the poor folks disappointed, when they find his constitution wasted, his understanding uninformed, his heart destitute of every manly or generous sentiment; and perceive him to possess no accomplishment, but such as are merely superficial? Perhaps, however, his parents are prevented by their partiality both for their child and for the means which they have adopted in conducting his education, from viewing his character and qualifications in a true light. Perhaps they overlook all his defects, or consider consider them as ornaments, and regard their dear son as the mirror of perfection. But, unfortunately, though they be blind to the hideous deformity of the monster which they have formed, they cannot hinder it from being conspicuous to others; though they may view their son's character as amiable and respectable, they cannot render it useful, they cannot prevent it from being hurtful to society. Let this youth whose education has been thus wisely conducted, let him be placed at the head of an opulent fortune, advanced to a seat in the legislative body of his country, or called to act in any public character; how will he distinguish himself? As the virtuous patriot, the honest, yet able statesman, the skilful general, or the learned, upright judge? How will he enjoy his fortune? Will he be the friend of the poor, the steady supporter of the laws and constitution under whose protection he lives? Will he show himself capable of enjoying otium cum dignitate? If we reason by the usual laws of probability, we cannot expect that he should; and if we observe the manners and principles of our men of wealth and high birth who have been brought up in this manner, we find our reasonings confirmed.

Such are the opinions which candid observation leads us to entertain with regard to the advantages which may be gained by travelling.

He whose mind has been judiciously cultivated, and who has attained to maturity of judgment, if he set out on his travels with a view to obtain real improvements, and persist invariably in the prosecution of that view, cannot but derive very great advantage from travelling.

But again, those young men whose minds have not been previously cultivated by a judicious education, who set out without a view to the acquisition of real knowledge, and who wander among foreign nations, without attention to anything but their luxuries, their follies, and their vices; those poor young men cannot gain any real improvement from their travels.

Our countrymen, who travel for improvement, do not appear to derive so much advantage from their travels as were to be wished, because they generally receive too superficial an education, set out at too early a period of life, and direct not their views to objects of real utility and importance.

XI. On Knowledge of the World, and Entrance into Life.

Much has been said concerning the utility of a knowledge of the world, and the advantage of acquiring it at an early period of life. But those who have the most earnestly recommended this knowledge of the world, have generally explained themselves in so inaccurate a manner concerning it, that it is difficult to understand what ideas they affix to it. They seem to wish, that, in order to acquire it, young people may be early made acquainted with all the vices and follies of the world, introduced into polite company, carried to public places, and not confined even from the gaming-table and the stews. Some knowledge of the world may, no doubt, be gained by these means. But it is surely dearly purchased; nor are the advantages which can be derived from it so considerable, as to tempt the judicious and affectionate parent to expose his child to the infection of vanity, folly, and vice, for their sake. Carry a boy or girl into public life at the age of fourteen or fifteen; show them all the scenes of splendid vanity and dissipation which adorn London or Paris; tell them of the importance of dress, and of the ceremonies of good breeding and the forms of intercourse; teach them that fashionable indifference and assurance which give the ton to the manners of our fine gentlemen and fine ladies of the present age. What effects can you expect the scenes into which you introduce them, and the mysteries which you now teach them, to produce on the minds of the children? They have a direct tendency to inspire them with a taste for vanity, frivolity, and dissipation. If you wish them to be like the foolish, the dissipated, and the gay, you are likely to obtain your purpose; but if, on the contrary, your views are to prepare them for discharging the duties of life, you could not adopt more improper means: for though they be well acquainted with all those things on which you place so much value, yet they have not thereby gained any accession of useful knowledge. They are not now more able than before to estimate the real value of objects; nay, their judgement is now more liable than before to be misled in estimating the value of the objects around them. Luxury, vanity, and fashion, have stamped on many things an ideal value. By mingling at an early age in those scenes of the world where luxury, vanity, and fashion reign with arbitrary sway, young people are naturally impressed with all those prejudices which these have a tendency to inspire. Instead of acquiring an useful knowledge of the world, they are rendered incapable of ever viewing the world with an unprejudiced and discerning eye. If possible, therefore, we should rather labour to confine young people from mingling in the scenes of gay and dissipated life till after they have attained maturity of age and judgment. They will then view them in a proper light, and perhaps be happy enough to escape the infectious contagion of vice.

But there is another and a more valuable knowledge of the world, which we ought industriously to communicate to them as soon as they are capable of receiving it. As soon as they are made thoroughly acquainted with the distinctions between right and wrong, between virtue and vice, between piety and impiety, cated to and have become capable of entering into our reason, young people; we ought then to inform them concerning the various establishments and institutions which exist in society; concerning the customs, opinions, and manners of mankind; and concerning the various degrees of strength or weakness of mind, of ingenuity or dullness, of virtuous or vicious qualities, which discriminate those characters which appear in society. We ought also to seize every opportunity which may be presented of exemplifying our lessons by instances in real life. We must point out to them those circumstances which have led mankind to place an undue value on some objects, while they appreciate others much below their real utility and importance. Thus let us fortify their judgments against that impression which the dazzling novelty of the scene, and the force of passion, will be apt to produce; and communicate to them a knowledge of the world, without exposing them imprudently to the contagion of its vices and follies.

When at length the period arrives at which they must be emancipated from subjection, and committed to the guidance of their own conscience and reason, and of those principles which we have laboured to inculcate on their minds; let us warn them of the dangers to which they are about to be exposed; tell them of the glory and the happiness to which they may attain; inspire them, if possible, with disdain for folly, vanity, and vice, whatever dazzling or enchanting forms they may assume; and then dismiss them to enrich their minds with new stores of knowledge by visiting foreign nations; or, if that should be inconvenient, to enter immediately on the duties of some useful employment in active life.