A Practical Enquiry into the Philosophy of Education

CHAP. XI

On Nature's Method of Training her Pupils to Communicate their Knowledge

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is another circumstance connected with this part of our subject, which is worthy of remark. A person who is playing on an instrument, and who is desirous to speak, finds himself, without long practice, totally unable to do so; but he may, if he pleases, sing what he has to say, provided only that he modulate his voice to the tune he is playing. The reason of this appears to be two-fold; first, that the mind, by following the tune in the articulation of the words, is relieved in a great measure from doing double duty; and secondly, and chiefly, because the person has already acquired, by more or less practice, the faculty of singing and playing at the same time. From this illustration, we perceive the necessity that exists in education, of cultivating in the young, by direct means and special exercises, this important faculty of managing the thoughts and giving expression to them at the same moment. It must be acquired by a course of mental discipline, which brings all the elements of the principle into operation; the collecting and managing of ideas, the chusing and arranging of words, and the giving of them utterance, at the same time. That direct exercises of this kind are necessary for the purpose, is obvious from the illustrations here given; where we find, that although a person, while playing on an instrument, may sing his words, he is yet unable to make the slightest deviation from singing to speaking, without a long and laborious practice.

Here then we have been enabled to trace this supplementary process of Nature in the education of her pupils, and to detect the great leading principle or law, by which it is governed. The attainment itself is the ready and fluent communication of our ideas to others; and the mode employed by nature for arriving at it, appears to be the training of her pupils to exercise their minds upon one set of ideas, while they are giving expression to another. That the mind is actually engaged in two different ways, at the same moment of time, it is not necessary for us to suppose. It is sufficient for our purpose, that the operations so rapidly succeed each other, as to appear to do so. The ability to accomplish this, we have proved to be in every case an acquired habit, and is never possessed, even in the smallest degree, without effort. It is, in fact, the invariable result of exercise and education. The most gifted of our species are frequently destitute of it; while very feeble minds have been found to possess it, when by chance or design they have employed the proper means for its attainment. What is wanted by the Educationist therefore, is an exercise, or series of exercises, which will enable him to imitate Nature, by causing his pupil to employ his mind in preparing one set of ideas, while he is giving expression to another. Such an exercise, upon whatever subject, will always produce, in a greater or less degree, the effect which Nature by this supplementary process intends to accomplish; that of giving the pupil ease and fluency in conversation, and a ready faculty of delivering his sentiments; while we have seen, by numerous illustrations, that it is at least highly improbable that it ever can be acquired in any other way. We have also demonstrated the impropriety of all unnecessary artificial restrictions upon children while at their play, and of preventing their speaking, calling out, and giving orders, encouragement, or commendation to their companions during it. These illustrations and examples have also pointed out to us the importance of encouraging the young to speak or converse with their teachers or one another, while they are actively employed at work, in their amusements, or in any other way in which the mind is but partially engaged. Exercises of this kind in the domestic circle, where they could be more frequently resorted to, would be of great value in forwarding the mental capacities of the young, and might be at least equally and extensively useful, as similar exercises employed in the school. The consideration of suitable exercises for advancing these ends, by which Nature may be successfully imitated in this important part of her process, belongs to another department of this Treatise, to which accordingly we must refer.

CHAP. XII

Recapitulation of the Philosophical Principles developed in the previous Chapters

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