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accomplished by tithes, burdens, and tributes, exacted by superiority from inferiority; and secured without expenditure, they need not be remunerative. Ours are practical and useful, because done by labor, for which capital pays wages; and thus secured upon fair compensation, they must of need be a source of revenue, in order that the profit may be commensurate with the cost, for this is the fundamental principle in the great world of exchange. In a country where all men are equal before the law, with individual tastes developed, and individual opportunities abundant, and resources unlimited, in the very nature of things, there can be no coöperation without just compensation. No useless colossus bestrides the East River, but the two cities of the metropolis are bound together by the largest suspension bridge in the world, bearing upon its stout cables throngs of pedestrians, crowds of vehicles, and rush of steam-cars, far above the commerce of nations lying at anchor in the waters beneath.
Now the telegraph and railroad, in the transmission of intelligence and in the transportation of merchandise, have eliminated time and distance, and at morn and at eve bring to us the fresh thoughts of mankind, and pour into our laps the market of the world. We do not now construct gigantic towers, long walls, and huge pyramids, (I regret to say that a century has passed away and even the monument to the Father of our Country is yet incomplete). But we dig down hills, fill up chasms, tunnel mountains, bridge streams, make railroads, steamships, and canals, exhume treasures from the bowels of the earth, hold telephonic conversations between distant cities; and the wheels of industry hum in thousands of factories, and our broad country is every year covered with the richest harvests. We do not build magnificent cathedrals, but we have schools and churches dotting hillside and valley like stars in heaven on a clear winter-night. It is significant that gunpowder was invented before printing. The former was the first of its age, the consummation of dynamics ; the latter was the natal star of the new civilization. Robert Fulton did more for the human race than did Alexander the Great, Morse did more than Hannibal; Lavoisier scarcely less than Julius Cæsar, Newton and Franklin more than Cyrus and Charlemagne. We have reduced govermental restraint to its minimum, and developed individual rights to their maximum, and are stimulating diversity to the highest possibility
It would be strange indeed if a potentiality so insidious, so universal, so irresistible as educational force, should make no improvement in the methods of propagating itself. While it revolutionizes government, reforms religion, reorganizes society, and impels arts and mechanism on a grander career, why should it not also import a new life to teaching? Surely it has done no less for the school than it has for church and state! In the earlier conditions of society there was no effort made to improve succeeding generations. The accomplishment of each died with it. There were no books through which the father could hand down to the son the knowledge acquired in a lifetime. Consequently there was no educational highway, along which the lines of the great and the wise stood out as guideposts to posterity. Jugglers, diviners, magicians, and conjurers thrived upon the credulity of the earlier races. Then followed the schools of the priests, which were devoted mostly to ecclesiastical pursuits; those of Judea exclusively so; those of ancient Egypt, however, made some advancement in science, such as observing and registering facts and revolving theories. They thus became a source of enlightenment to surrounding nations.' Greece borrowed wisdom from the Egyptians, and afforded some opportunities for her first teachers and philosophers. In this way Greece first, and Rome afterward, developed the science of secular education. Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle mark the epoch in Grecian civilization, and Cicero, Seneca. and Quintilian in Roman civilization, most important in the history of pedagogics, But training was special, and designed to mold the pupil after some ideal of the teacher, or to fill some distinctive station and was as often repressive as expansive in its nature and effect.
Education in the middle age was also special and was directed in one of but two channels, — the one leading to the cloister, the other leading to the castle. The common people were not thought fit subjects for culture, and every young male aristocrat was trained to be either a monk or a knight. The monasteries may have kept the lamp of knowledge burning, and may be entitled to some honor for thus protecting the flickering flame from total extinguishment in the dark. ness that enveloped that age, but they are not entitled to much credit beyond. They thought a rigid, hard, unnatural, and constrained mental and moral discipline. The most important part of the curriculum was to write psalters, missals, and breviaries to study the treatises of the fathers, to read the sermons of the abbots, and to participate in the useless, tedious, and elaborate church ceremonies. The rod was used mercilessly and with impartial severity. I fear there are some teachers yet who in this respect are of the old monastic school. On the other hand the young knights received very little intellectual or moral instruction, but were taught gymnastics and calisthenics, were taught to box, to hunt, to fish, to ride, to run, and to shoot with the bow and arrow. The young monk was denied the companionship of ladies, and taught to regard them with indifference or aversion. The young knight was inspired to his noblest deeds of courage and gallantry by the smiles of his lady-love, and was taught to look upon her with adoration. What an unequal and unjust apportionment of the joys of this life, and how stupid in the monks to submit to it! Up to this time I believe woman was not thought of in the training and culture of mankind. I suppose, as she could be neither a monk nor a knight, it was concluded useless and prodigal to waste instructive genius upon her. Erasmus, I think, was one of the first to maintain that it is as necessary and important to educate the girls as it is the boys. When we study the special endowments of woman, her fine sensibilities, her quick perception, her gentle patience, her keen sense of right and wrong, her ready sympathy, we wonder at the folly of so long neglecting her. It is no matter of surprise that, with all these special aptitudes, she is regarded now as man's superior in the training and culture of children.
But there has been a revolution in modern times in the science of pedagogics. Among the many bright names through whose genius it has been made possible are those of Comenius, Locke, Francke, Rousseau, Kant, Richter, Pestalozzi and Froebel. We no longer drive, we no longer,—thanks to Frederick Froebel,—always lead; we often follow after. The teacher is not a master, seated upon a throne, clothed in awful majesty, wielding fierce authority and inspiring terror; but he is a counselor, companion, and friend. The pupil is no longer a constrained, timid, cowering little wretch, often a culprit without fault and without intent, but he is docile, loving, and confiding. There is little for the model teacher to do but to supervise the natural growth of his pupil, — and this is much. He never commands, rarely directs, sometimes leads, often follows, frequently suggests, and always accompanies. He does all this without effort, and without disclosing his purpose, invariably winning the obedience and affection of his pupil without struggle or consciousness upon his part. Under the kindergarten culture, study is pleasure, labor is play, and the schoolroom is a toyshop !
It has been said that there is no royal road to education. But a pathway leads there, so smooth, so natural, so easy, so lined with flowers and overshadowed with foliage that fatigue never attends, and pleasure always accompanies those who walk therein. I know that when water ascends from the base to the summit, it is forced, it is inert, heavy and dead, inactive, reluctant and escapes at every crevice, and loses a portion of itself at every revolution of the machinery. I know, too, that when water finds its way down, it has the qualities of life, velocity, and momentum, and moves with measured regularity, or leaps from higher to lower elevation with impressive grandeur, or ripples over shingles and shells in sparkling brilliancy, “ a thing of beauty and a joy forever"! It is libel upon nature and blasphemy of Nature's God to say that humanity of itself inclines to go wrong.
The modern science of pedagogics is, I regret to say, however, in advance in the art of teaching. There is still too much knowledge, and not enough wisdom ; too much learning, and not enough training; too many great souls in sickly bodies; too much time to dead language and not enough to living physics. I believe it was Madame De Stael who said: “Were I mistress of fifty languages, I would discourse in the noble Greek, think in the deep German, sing in the majestic Spanish, converse in the gay French, write in the copious English, and make love in the soft Italian." In this country the English will serve the last purpose quite as well as the Italian. Indeed, it is a satisfactory substitute for all the others. It is the eclectic language chosen by Progress. I think, in its future career, it may absorb all others, just as it has destroyed its own dialects and is swallowing up its own provincialisms. I do not say that other languages should not be studied for the rich literature in many and for the relation they bear to the English, and that they should not constitute the chief course, as they do in many institutions of learning. We still try to make scholars, lawyers, doctors, preachers, and merchants, rather than to develop natural aptitudes. We may grow these specialists, but our teaching does not make them any more than binding a board upon a Laplander's brow will make him a Flat-Headed Indian. Improve the natural individual and the professions will be filled by natural selection and their fruits increased many fold.
Our schools, our churches, and our institutions, in this country, through some fault, organic or otherwise, evolve two ignoble passions that overshadow and sometimes overwhelm our lives. I allude to these distinctive American traits, — to get rich, and to hold office. Every young American wants to get rich, — to get rich quick, - to get rich out of nothing. He first, perhaps, wins prizes in the school. room, under the sanction of the teacher; then enters the Sundayschool lottery, or church fair, and gambles under the sanction of religion; then buys Chicago grain margins, or Wall Street stocks, and gambles under the sanction of business; at last, perhaps. plays policy, or deals in a faro-bank, and gambles under no sanction whatever. I know that political economists make a distinction, and that it may seem unjust to make this indiscriminate classification. Nevertheless the whole prize system is pernicious, and, in this country, there has arisen a feverish, uncertain, and speculative condition of life that is surely corrupting our public morals and threatening our nation. Competitive prizes in the school-room usually stimulate those who at times ought to be restrained because of precociousness, and discourages those, who can never win because of natural dullness. To use them as an incentive is a confession of weakness, - not to say incapacity, upon the part of the teacher. The hope of gain is often as debasing as the fear of punishment. I have no respect for action incited by either motive. It is too much like that kind of religion that has no foundation but the fear of a fire-brand, or bribery with a crown.
Some one has said that we are all politicians, from the cradle to the grave. In a certain sense this is as it should be, — in the sense of prudent, zealous, and patriotic interest in our country's welfare. In another sense it is a foolish, unhallowed, American chacteristic. The inordinate desire to hold office seems to be either active or latent in the heart of every man, — and some say women also. Some constantly hear their country's call and are ready to sacrifice themselves upon the official altar at every election. Others are stirred up by some newspaper puff, or the flattery of friends, and their peace is gone, and they at once study the art of hand-shaking. All this is foolish in the extreme, and, we are painfully sensible, leads to corrup
Office obtained without effort, and surrendered without regret, is indeed a distinction, and secures respect and even rever. ence. But office for which manhood is bartered is but a mark of approbrium, and a target at which malice hurls its calumny. We ought to rebuke the common practice of holding out to every little schoolboy in the land, as an incentive to study, the promise that he may become a president, or a congressman. It is a blessed thing that he does not understand the avenues that lead to these goals of his childish ambition, or it might chill his ardor and shock his morals. Some years ago I knew a school-boy whose chief regret was that he lived in a country where he could aspire to nothing greater than the Presidency of the United States, which was within the reach of all his schoolmates, so his teachers said. He grew older and wiser, till he lowered his standard of ambition and felt he would be satisfied with a senatorship or a seat in the legislature even. older and wiser, and while his ambition was still lower, it was surely nobler and purer than before. I know him yet better than all others. He now feels, if he can lead a useful and honest life, and care for those dependent upon him, and do some little part, no matter how obscure, to aid in making those around him wiser, happier, and better he will have accomplished his mission and will be satisfied with his