Part 43

[166] _First_ look to himself, but there may be other causes of failure as well. The great thing is never to put up contentedly, or even discontentedly, with failure. In teaching classes of lads from ten to sixteen years old, when I have found the lessons in any subject were not going well, I have sometimes taken the class into my confidence, told them that they no doubt felt as I did that this lesson was a dull one, and asked them each to put on paper what he considered to be the reasons, and also to make any suggestions that occurred to him. In this way I have got some very good hints, and I have always been helped in my effort to understand how the work seemed to the pupils. Every teacher should make this effort. As Pestalozzi says, “Could we conceive the indescribable tedium which must oppress the young mind while the weary hours are slowly passing away one after another in occupations which it can neither relish nor understand ... we should no longer be surprised at the remissness of the schoolboy creeping like snail unwillingly to school” (To G., xxx, 150).

[167] With Morf’s summing-up it is interesting to compare Joseph Payne’s, given at the end of his lecture on _Pestalozzi_:

I. The principles of education are not to be devised _ab extra_; they are to be sought for in human nature.

II. This nature is an organic nature—a plexus of bodily, intellectual and moral capabilities, ready for development, and struggling to develop themselves.

III. The education conducted by the formal educator has both a negative and a positive side. The negative function of the educator consists in removing impediments, so as to afford free scope for the learner’s self-development. His positive function is to stimulate the learner to the exercise of his powers, to furnish materials and occasion for the exercise, and to superintend and maintain the action of the machinery.

IV. Self-development begins with the impressions received by the mind from external objects. These impressions (called sensations), when the mind becomes conscious of them, group themselves into perceptions. These are registered in the mind as conceptions or ideas, and constitute that elementary knowledge which is the basis of all knowledge.

V. Spontaneity and self-activity are the necessary conditions under which the mind educates itself and gains power and independence.

VI. Practical aptness or faculty, depends more on habits gained by the assiduous oft-repeated exercise of the learner’s active powers than on knowledge alone. Knowing and doing (_Wissen und Können_) must, however, proceed together. The chief aim of all education (including instruction) is the development of the learner’s powers.

VII. All education (including instruction) must be grounded on the learner’s own observation (_Anschauung_) at first hand—on his own personal experience. This is the true basis of all his knowledge. First the reality, then the symbol; first the thing, then the word, not _vice versâ_.

VIII. That which the learner has gained by his own observation (_Anschauung_) and which, as a part of his personal experience, is incorporated with his mind, he _knows_ and can describe or explain in his own words. His competency to do this is the measure of the accuracy of his observation, and consequently of his knowledge.

IX. Personal experience necessitates the advancement of the learner’s mind from the near and actual, with which he is in contact, and which he can deal with himself, to the more remote; therefore from the concrete to the abstract, from particulars to generals, from the known to the unknown. This is the method of elementary education; the opposite proceeding—the usual proceeding of our traditional teaching—leads the mind from the abstract to the concrete, from generals to particulars, from the unknown to the known. This latter is the Scientific method—a method suited only to the advanced learner, who it assumes is already trained by the Elementary method.

[168] Most parents do not seem to think with Jean Paul, “If we regard all life as an educational institution, a circumnavigator of the world is less influenced by all the nations he has seen than by his nurse.” (_Levana_, quoted in Morley’s _Rousseau_.)

[169] I will quote the first paragraph of this work which is still considered mental pabulum suited to the digestions of young ladies and children:—

“_Name some of the most Ancient Kingdoms._—Chaldēa, Babylonia, Assyria, China in Asia, and Egypt in Africa. Nimrod, the grandson of Ham, is supposed to have founded the first of these B.C. 2221, as well as the famous cities of Babylon and Nineveh; his kingdom being within the fertile plains of Chaldēa, Chalonītis, and Assyria, was of small extent compared with the vast empires that afterwards arose from it, but included several large cities. In the district called Babylonia were the cities of Babylon, Barsīta, Idicarra, and Vologsia,” &c., &c.

[170] I shall always feel gratitude and affection for the two old ladies (sisters) to whom I was entrusted over half a century ago. More truly Christian women I never met with. But of the science and art of education they were totally ignorant; and moreover the premises they occupied were unfit for a school. As all the boys were under ten years old, it will seem strange, but is alas! too true, that there were vices among them which are supposed to be unknown to children and which if discovered would have made the old ladies close their school. The want of subjects in which the children can take a healthy interest will in a great measure account for the spread of evil in such schools. On this point some mistresses and most parents are dangerously ignorant.

[171] Having watched the “teaching” of pupil-teachers, I find that some of them (I may say many) never address more than one child at a time, and never attempt to gain the attention of more than a single child. So, by a very simple calculation, we can get at the maximum time each child is “under instruction.” If the pupil-teacher has but three-quarters of the pupils for whom the Department supposes him “sufficient,” each child cannot be under instruction _more_ than two minutes in the hour. The rest of the time the children must sit quiet, or be cuffed if they do not. What is called “simultaneous” teaching in, say, reading, consists in the pupil-teacher reading from the book, and as he pronounces each word, the children shout it after him; but no one except the pupil-teacher knows the place in the book.

But perhaps the dangers from employing boys and girls to teach and govern children are greater morally than intellectually. Whether he report on it or not, the Inspector has less influence on the moral training than the youngest pupil-teacher. Channing has well said: “A child compelled for six hours each day to see the countenance and hear the voice of an unfeeling, petulant, passionate, unjust teacher is placed in a school of vice.” Those who have never taught day after day, week after week, month after month, little know what demands school-work makes on the temper and the sense of justice. The harshest tyrants are usually those who are raised but a little way above those whom they have to control; and when I think of the pupil-teacher with his forty pupils to keep in order, I heartily pity both him and them. Is there not too much reason to fear lest in many cases the school should prove for both what Channing has well described as “a school of vice”? (R. H. Q. in _Spectator_, 1st March, 1890.)

[172] Since the above was written, another “New Code” has appeared (March, 1890), in which the system of measuring by “passes,” a system maintained (in spite of the remonstrances of all interested in _education_) for nearly 30 years, is at length abandoned. We are certainly travelling, however slowly, away from Mr. Lowe. Far as we are still from Pestalozzi there seems reason to hope that the distance is diminishing.

[173] This short sketch of Froebel’s life is mainly taken, with Messrs. Black’s permission, from the _Encyclopædia Britannica_, for which I wrote it.

[174] This office was first filled by Langethal and afterwards by Ferdinand Froebel. I learned this at Burgdorf from Herr Pfarrer Heuer, whose father had himself been Waisenvater.

[175] For this quotation, and for much besides (as will appear later on), I am indebted to Mr. H. Courthope Bowen. See his paper _Froebel’s Education of Man_.

[176] The educator _as teacher_ has his activity limited, according to DeGarmo, to these two things; “(1) The _preparation_ of the child’s mind for a rapid and effective assimilation of new knowledge; (2) The _presentation_ of the matter of instruction in such order and manner as will best conduce to the most effective assimilation” (_Essentials of Method_ by Chas. DeGarmo, Boston, U.S., D. C. Heath, 1889). Besides this he must make his pupils _use_ their knowledge both new and old, and reproduce it in fresh connexions.

[177] “Little children,” says Joseph Payne, “are scarcely ever contented with simply doing nothing; and their fidgetiness and unrest, which often give mothers and teachers so much anxiety, are merely the strugglings of the soul to get, through the body, some employment for its powers. Supply this want, give them an object to work upon, and you solve the problem. The divergence and distraction of the faculties cease as they converge upon the work, and the mind is at rest in its very occupation.” _V. to German Schools._

[178] I entirely agree with Joseph Payne that where the language spoken is not German, it would be well to discard _Kindergarten_, _Kindergärtner_, and _Kindergärtnerin_. All who have to do with children should master some great principles taught by Froebel, but there is no need for them to learn German or to use German words. The French seem satisfied with _Jardin d’Enfants_, but we are not likely to be with _Children-Garden_. _Playschool_ _might_ do.

[179] Contrast this with what has been said by an eminent thinker of our time: “No art of equal importance to mankind has been so little investigated scientifically as the art of teaching.” Sir H. S. Maine, quoted in J. H. Hoose’s _M. of Teaching_.

[180] Here Jacotot’s notion of teaching reminds one of the sophism quoted by Montaigne—“A Westphalia ham makes a man drink. Drink quenches thirst. Therefore a Westphalia ham quenches thirst.”

[181] _See_ H. Courthope Bowen on “Connectedness in Teaching” (_Educational Times_, June, 1890). Mr. Bowen quotes from H. Spencer—“Knowledge of the lowest kind is _un-unified_ knowledge: science is _partially unified_ knowledge: philosophy is _completely unified_ knowledge.”

[182] As I have said above (p. 89) these methodizers in language-learning may, with regard to the first stage, be divided into two parties which I have called _Complete Retainers_ and _Rapid Impressionists_. Two Complete Retainers, Robertson and Prendergast, have, as it seems to me, made, since Jacotot, a great advance on his method and that of his predecessor Ascham. As I have had a good deal of experience with beginners in German, I will give from an old lecture of mine the main conclusions at which I have arrived:—“My principle is to attack the most vital part of the language, and at first to keep the area small, or rather to enlarge it very slowly; but within that area I want to get as much variety as possible. The study of a book written in the language should be carried on _pari passu_ with drill in its common inflexions. Now arises the question, Should the book be made with the object of teaching the language, or should it be selected from those written for other purposes? I see much to be said on either side. The three great facts we have to turn to account in teaching a language, are these:—first, a few words recur so constantly that a knowledge of them and grasp of them gives us a power in the language quite out of proportion to their number; second, large classes of words admit of many variations of meaning by inflection, which variations we can understand from analogy; third, compound words are formed _ad infinitum_ on simple laws, so that the root word supplies the key to a whole family. Now, if the book is written by the language-teacher, he has the whole language before him, and he can make the most of all these advantages. He can use only the important words of the language; he can repeat them in various connections; he can bring the main facts of inflection and construction before the learner in a regular order, which is a great assistance to the memory; he can give the simple words before introducing words compounded of them; and he can provide that, when a word occurs for the first time, the learners shall connect it with its root meaning. A short book securing all these advantages would, no doubt, be a very useful implement, but I have never seen such a book. Almost all delectuses, &c., bury the learner with a pile of new words, under which he feels himself powerless. So far as I know, the book has yet to be written. And even if it were written, with the greatest success from a linguistic point of view, it would of course make no pretension to a meaning. Having myself gone through a course of Ahn and of Ollendorf, I remember, as a sort of nightmare, innumerable questions and answers, such as “Have you my thread stockings? No, I have your worsted stockings.” Still more repulsive are the long sentences of Mr. Prendergast:—“How much must I give to the cabdriver to take my father to the Bank in New Street before his second breakfast, and to bring him home again before half-past two o’clock?” I cannot forget Voltaire’s _mot_, which has a good deal of truth in it,—“Every way is good but the tiresome way.” And most of the books written for beginners are inexpressibly tiresome. No doubt it will be said, “Unless you adopt the rapid-impressionist plan, any book _must_ be tiresome. What is a meaning at first becomes no meaning by frequent repetition.” This, however, is not altogether true. I myself have taught Niebuhr’s _Heroengeschichten_ for years, and I know some chapters by heart; but the old tales of Jason and Hercules as they are told in Niebuhr’s simple language do not bore me in the least.

“Ein Begriff muss bei dem Worte sein,”

says the Student in Faust; and a notion—a very pleasing notion, too—remains to me about every word in the _Heroengeschichten_.

These, then, would be my books to be worked at the same time by a beginner, say in German:—A book for drill in the principal inflexions, followed by the main facts about gender, &c., and a book like the _Heroengeschichten_. This I would have prepared very much after the Robertsonian manner. It should be printed, as should also the Primer, in good-sized Roman type; though, in an appendix, some of it should be reprinted in German type. The book should be divided into short lessons. A translation of each lesson should be given in parallel columns. Then should come a vocabulary, in which all useful information should be given about the really important words, _the unimportant words being neglected_. Finally should come _variations_, and exercises in the lessons; and in these the important words of that and previous lessons should be used exclusively. The exercises should be such as the pupils could do in writing out of school, and _vivâ voce_ in school. They should be very easy—real exercises in what is already known, not a series of linguistic puzzles. The object of the exercises, and also of a vast number of _vivâ voce_ questions, should be to accustom the pupil to use his knowledge _readily_. (But some teachers, young teachers especially, are always _cross_-examining, and seem to themselves to fail when their questions are answered without difficulty.) The ear, the voice, the hand, should all be practised on each lesson. When the construing is known, transcription of the German is not by any means to be despised. A good variety of transcription is, for the teacher to write the German clause by clause on the black-board, and rub out each clause before the pupils begin to write it. Then a known piece may be prepared for dictation. In reading this as dictation, the master may introduce small variations, to teach his pupils to keep their ears open. He may, as another exercise, read the German aloud, and stop here and there for the boys to give the English of the last sentence read; or he may read to them either the exact German in the book or small variations on it, and make the pupils translate _vivâ voce_, clause by clause. He may then ask questions on the piece in German and require answers in English.

For exercises, there are many devices by which the pupil may be trained to observation, and also be confirmed in his knowledge of back lessons. The great teacher, F. A. Wolf, used to make his own children ascertain how many times such and such a word occurred in such and such pages. As M. Bréal says, children are collectors by nature; and, acting on this hint, we might say, “Write in column all the dative cases on pages _a_ to _c_, and give the English and the corresponding nominatives.” Or, “Copy from those pages all the accusative prepositions with the accusatives after them.” Or, “Write out the past participles, with their infinitives.” Or, “Translate such and such sentences, and explain them with reference to the context.” Or, questions may be asked on the subject-matter of the book. There is no end to the possible varieties of such exercises.

As soon as they get any feeling of the language, the pupils should learn by heart some easy poetry in it. I should recommend their learning the English of the piece first, and then getting the German _vivâ voce_ from the teacher. To quicken the German in their minds, I think it is well to give them in addition a German prose version, using almost the same words. Variations of the more important sentences should be learnt at the same time.

In all these suggestions you will see what I am aiming at. I wish the learner to get a feeling of, and a power over, the main words of the language and the machinery in which they are employed.

[183] I append in a note a passage from the old edition of this book referring to the Cambridge man of forty years ago. “The typical Cambridge man studies mathematics, not because he likes mathematics, or derives any pleasure from the perception of mathematical truth, still less with the notion of ever using his knowledge; but either because, if he is “a good man,” he hopes for a fellowship, or because, if he cannot aspire so high, he considers reading the thing to do, and finds a satisfaction in mental effort just as he does in a constitutional to the Gogmagogs. When such a student takes his degree, he is by no means a highly cultivated man; but he is not the sort of man we can despise for all that. He has in him, to use one of his own metaphors, a considerable amount of _force_, which may be applied in any direction. He has great power of concentration and sustained mental effort even on subjects which are distasteful to him. In other words, his mind is under the control of his will, and he can bring it to bear promptly and vigorously on anything put before him. He will sometimes be half through a piece of work, while an average Oxonian (as we Cambridge men conceive of him at least) is thinking about beginning. But his training has taught him to value mental force without teaching him to care about its application. Perhaps he has been working at the gymnasium, and has at length succeeded in “putting up” a hundredweight. In learning to do this, he has been acquiring strength for its own sake. He does not want to put up hundredweights, but simply to be able to put them up, and his reward is the consciousness of power. Now the tripos is a kind of competitive examination in putting up weights. The student who has been training for it, has acquired considerable mental vigour, and when he has put up his weight he falls back on the consciousness of strength which he seldom thinks of using. Having put up the heavier, he despises the lighter weights. He rather prides himself on his ignorance of such things as history, modern languages, and English literature. He “can get those up in a few evenings,” whenever he wants them. He reminds me, indeed, of a tradesman who has worked hard to have a large balance at his banker’s. This done, he is satisfied. He has neither taste nor desire for the things which make wealth valuable; but when he sees other people in the enjoyment of them, he hugs himself with the consciousness that he can write a cheque for such things whenever he pleases.”

[184] On this interesting subject I will quote three men who said nothing _inepte_—De Morgan, Helps, and the first Sir James Stephen. De Morgan, speaking of Jacotot’s plan, wrote:—“There is much truth in the assertion that new knowledge hooks on easily to a little of the old thoroughly mastered. The day is coming when it will be found out that crammed erudition got up for examination, does not cast out any hooks for more.” (_Budget of Paradoxes_, p. 3.) Elsewhere he says:—“When the student has occupied his time in learning a moderate portion of many different things, what has he acquired—extensive knowledge or useful habits? Even if he can be said to have varied learning, it will not long be true of him, for nothing flies so quickly as half-digested knowledge; and when this is gone, there remains but a slender portion of useful power. A small quantity of learning quickly evaporates from a mind which never held any learning except in small quantities; and the intellectual philosopher can perhaps explain the following phenomenon—that men who have given deep attention to one or more liberal studies, can learn to the end of their lives, and are able to retain and apply very small quantities of other kinds of knowledge; while those who have never learnt much of any one thing seldom acquire new knowledge after they attain to years of maturity, and frequently lose the greater part of that which they once possessed.”

Sir Arthur Helps in _Reading_ (_Friends in C._) says:—“All things are so connected together that a man who knows one subject well, cannot, if he would, have failed to have acquired much besides; and that man will not be likely to keep fewer pearls who has a string to put them on than he who picks them up and throws them together without method. This, however, is a very poor metaphor to represent the matter; for what I would aim at producing not merely holds together what is gained, but has vitality in itself—is always growing. And anybody will confirm this who in his own case has had any branch of study or human affairs to work upon; for he must have observed how all he meets seems to work in with, and assimilate itself to, his own peculiar subject. During his lonely walks, or in society, or in action, it seems as if this one pursuit were something almost independent of himself, always on the watch, and claiming its share in whatever is going on.”

In his Lecture on _Desultory and Systematic Reading_, Sir James Stephen said:—“Learning is a world, not a chaos. The various accumulations of human knowledge are not so many detached masses. They are all connected parts of one great system of truth, and though that system be infinitely too comprehensive for any one of us to compass, yet each component member of it bears to every other component member relations which each of us may, in his own department of study, search out and discover for himself. A man is really and soundly learned in exact proportion to the number and to the importance of those relations which he has thus carefully examined and accurately understood.”

[185] This essay, which was written nearly twenty-five years ago, I leave as it stands. I take some credit to myself for having early recognised the importance of a book now famous. (June, 1890.)