PART III.

ON THE METHODS BY WHICH THE EDUCATIONAL PROCESSES OF NATURE MAY BE SUCCESSFULLY IMITATED.

CHAP. I.

On the Exercises by which Nature may be imitated in cultivating the Powers of the Mind.

In the educational processes of Nature, her first object appears to be the cultivation of her pupil's mind; and this, therefore, ought also to be the first concern of the parent and teacher.—The wisdom of this arrangement is obvious. For as success in a great measure depends upon the vigour and extent of those powers, their early cultivation will render the succeeding exercises easy and pleasant, and will greatly abridge the anxiety and labour of both teacher and scholar.

There is no doubt a great diversity in the natural capacities of children; and phrenology, as well as daily experience shews, that children who are apt in learning one thing, may be exceedingly dull and backward in acquiring others. But after making every allowance for this variety in the intellectual powers of children, it is well established by experience, and repeated experiments have confirmed the fact,[9] that the very dullest and most obtuse of the children found in any of our schools, are really capable of rapid cultivation, and may, by the use of proper means, be very soon brought to bear their part in the usual exercises fitted for the ordinary children. A large proportion of the dulness so frequently complained of by teachers arises, not so much from any natural defect, or inherent mental weakness in the child, as from the want of that early mental exercise,—real mental culture,—of which we are here speaking. Whenever this dulness in a sane scholar continues for any length of time, there is good reason to fear that it is owing to some palpable mismanagement on the part of the parent or teacher. On examination it will most likely be found, either that the pupil has had exercises prescribed to him which the powers of his mind were as yet incapable of accomplishing; or, if the exercises themselves have been suitable, there has been more prescribed than he was able to overtake. In either case the effect will be the same. The mind has been unnaturally burdened, or overstretched; confusion of ideas and mental weakness have been the consequence; and if so, the very attempt to keep up with his companions in the class only tends to aggravate the evil. Hence arises the propriety of following Nature in making the expansion and cultivation of the powers of the mind our first object; and our design in the present chapter is to examine into the means by which, in the exercises of the school, she may be successfully imitated in the operations which she employs for this purpose.

We have in our previous investigations seen, that the cultivation of the mental powers is a work of extraordinary simplicity, depending entirely upon one act of the mind,—the reiteration of ideas. We have proved, by a variety of familiar instances, that wherever this act takes place, the mind is, and must be exercised, and so far strengthened; while, on the contrary, wherever it does not take place, there is neither mental exercise, nor any perceptible accession of mental strength. It does not depend upon the particular form of the exercise, whether it consists of reading, hearing, writing, or speaking; but simply and entirely upon the reality and the frequency of the reiteration of the included ideas during it. This makes the cultivation and strengthening of the powers of the mind a very simple and a very certain operation. For if the teacher can succeed by any means in producing frequent and successive repetitions of this act of the mind in any of his pupils, Nature will be true to her own law, and mental culture, and mental strength will assuredly follow;—but, on the contrary, whenever in a school exercise this act is awanting, there can be no permanent progression in the education of the pupil, and no amelioration in the state of his mind. The mechanical reading or repeating of words, for example, like the fingering of musical instruments, may be performed for months or years successively, without the powers of the mind being actively engaged in the process at all; leaving the child without mental exercise, and consequently without improvement.

In following out the only legitimate plan for the accomplishment of this fundamental object, that of imitating Nature, the first thing required by the teacher is an exercise, or series of exercises, by which he shall be able at his own will to enforce upon his pupils this important act of the mind. If this object can be successfully attained, then the proper means for the intellectual improvement of the child are secured; but as long as it is awanting, his mental cultivation is either left to chance, or to the capricious decision of his own will;—for experience shews, that although a child may be compelled to read, or to repeat the words of his exercises, they contain no power by which the teacher can ensure the reiteration of the ideas they contain. The words may correctly and fluently pass from the tongue, while the mind is actively engaged upon something else, and as much beyond the reach of the teacher as ever. But if the desiderated exercise could be procured, the power of enforcing mental activity upon a prescribed subject would then remain, not in the possession of the child, but would be transferred to the teacher, at whose pleasure the mental cultivation of the pupil would proceed, whether he himself willed it or no.

In the "catechetical exercise," as it has been called, and which has of late years been extensively used by our best teachers, the desideratum above described has been most happily and effectively supplied to the Educationist. This valuable exercise may not perhaps be new;—but certainly its nature, and its importance in education, till of late years, has been altogether overlooked, or unknown. It differs from the former mode of catechising, (or rather of using catechisms) in this, that whereas a catechism provides an answer for the child in a set form of words,—the catechetical exercise, having first provided him with the means, compels him to search for, to select, and to construct an answer for himself. For example, an announcement is given by his teacher, or it is read from his book. This is the raw material upon which both the teacher and the child are to work, and within the boundaries of which the teacher especially must strictly confine himself. Upon this announcement a question is founded,[10] which obliges the child, before he can even prepare an answer, to reiterate in his own mind, not the words,—for that would not answer his purpose,—but the several ideas contained in the sentence or truth announced. All these ideas must be perceived,—they must pass in review before the mind,—and from among them he must select the one required, arrange it in his own way, and give it to the teacher entirely as his own idea, and clothed altogether in his own words.

In the common method of making use of catechisms, the words of the answer may be read, or they may be committed to memory, and may be repeated with ease and fluency; while the ideas,—the truths they contain,—may neither be perceived nor reiterated. In this there is neither mental exercise, nor mental improvement;—and, what is worse, without the catechetical exercise, the teacher has no means of knowing whether it be so or not. By means of the catechetical exercise, on the contrary, there can be no evasion,—no doubt as to the mental activity of the pupil, and his consequent mental improvement. Its benefits are very extensive; and in employing it the teacher is not only sure that the ideas in the announcement have been perceived and reiterated, but that a numerous train of useful mental operations must have taken place, before his pupil could by any possibility return him an answer to his questions. We shall, before proceeding, point out a few of these.

Let us then suppose that a child either reads, or repeats as the answer to a question, the words, "Jesus died for sinners."—At this point in the former mode of using a catechism, the exercise of the pupil stopped; and the parent or teacher understanding the meaning of the sentence, and clearly perceiving the ideas himself, usually took it for granted that the child also did so, or at least at some future time would do so. This was mere conjecture; and he had no means of ascertaining its certainty, however important. It is at this point that the catechetical exercise commences its operations. When the child has repeated the words, or when the teacher for the first time announces them, the mind of the child may be in a state very unfavourable to its improvement; but as soon as the teacher asks him a question founded upon one or more of the ideas which the announcement contains, and which he must answer without farther help, the state of his mind is instantly and materially changed. Hitherto he may have been altogether passive on the subject;—nay, his mind while reading or repeating the words, may have been busily engaged on something else, or altogether occupied with his companions or his play;—but as soon as the teacher asks him "Who died?" there is an instant withdrawal of the mind from every thing else, and an exclusive concentration of its powers upon the ideas in the announcement. He must think,—and he must think in a certain way, and upon the specific ideas presented to him by the teacher,—before it is possible for him to return an answer. It is on this account that this exercise is so effective an instrument in cultivating the powers of the mind;—and it is to the long series of exercises which take place in this operation, that we are now calling the attention of the reader, that he may perceive how closely this exercise follows in the line prescribed by Nature, in creating occasions for the successive reiteration of different ideas suggested by one question.

When, in pursuing the catechetical exercise, a question is asked from an announcement, there is first a call upon the attention, and an exercise of mind upon the question asked, the words of which must be translated by the pupil into their proper ideas, which accordingly he must both perceive and understand. He has then to revert to the ideas (not the words) contained in the original announcement, the words of which are perhaps still ringing in his ears; and these he must also perceive and reiterate in his mind, before he can either understand them or prepare to give an answer. At this point the child is necessarily in possession of the ideas—the truths—conveyed by the announcement; and therefore at this point one great end of the teacher has in so far been gained. But the full benefit of the exercise, in so far as it is capable of fixing these truths still more permanently on the memory, and of disciplining the mind, has not yet been exhausted. After the pupil has reiterated in his mind the ideas contained in the original sentence, or passage announced, he has again to revert to the question of the teacher, and compare it with the several ideas which the announcement contains. He has then to chuse from among them,—all of them being still held in review by the mind,—the particular idea to which his attention has been called by the question;—and last of all, and which is by no means the least as a mental exercise, he has to clothe this particular idea in words, and construct his sentence in such a way as to make it both sense and grammar. In this last effort, it is worthy of remark, children, after having been but a short while subjected to this exercise, almost invariably succeed, although they know nothing about grammar, and may perhaps never have heard of the name.

But even this is not all. There has as yet been only one question asked, and the answer to this question refers to only one idea contained in the announcement. But it embraces at least three several ideas; and each of these ideas, by the catechetical exercise, is capable of originating other questions, perfectly distinct from each other, and each of which gives rise to a similar mental process, and with equally beneficial results, in exercising and strengthening the powers of the mind.

It is also here of importance to take notice of the additional benefits that arise from the multiplying of questions upon one announcement. The first question proposed from the announcement, brought the mind of the child into immediate contact with all the ideas which it contained. They are now therefore familiar to him; and he is perfectly prepared for the second, and for every succeeding question formed upon it; and he fashions the answers with readiness and zest. Every such answer is a kind of triumph to the child, which he gives with ease and pleasure, and yet every one of them, as an exercise of the mind, is equally beneficial as the first. When the teacher therefore asks, "What did Jesus do?" and afterwards, "For whom did Jesus die?" a little reflection will at once shew, that a similar mental exercise must take place at each question, in which the child has not only to reiterate the several original ideas, but must again and again compare the questions asked, with each one of them, choose out the one required, clothe it in his own language, and in this form repeat it audibly to his teacher.

Before leaving this enquiry into the nature and effects of the catechetical exercise, there are two circumstances connected with it as a school-engine, which deserve particular attention. The first is, that Nature has made this same reiteration of ideas, for the securing of which this exercise is used, the chief means of conveying knowledge to the mind; and the second is, the undissembled delight which children exhibit while under its influence, wherever it is naturally and judiciously conducted. With respect to the former of these circumstances, it falls more particularly to be considered in another chapter, and under a following head; but with respect to the latter,—the delight felt in the exercise by the children themselves,—it deserves here a more close examination.

Every one who has paid any attention to the subject must have observed the life, the energy, the enjoyment, which are observable in a class of children, while they are under the influence, and subjected to the discipline of the catechetical exercise. This will perhaps be still more remarkable, if ever they have had an opportunity of contrasting this lively scene with the death-like monotony of a school where the exercise is as yet unknown. Many can yet remember instances when it was first introduced into some of the Sabbath schools in Scotland, and the astonishment of the teachers at its instantaneous effects upon the mind and conduct of their children. The whole aspect of the school was changed; and the children, who had but a few minutes before been conspicuous only for their apathy, restlessness, or inattention, were instantly aroused to life, and energy, and delight. Similar effects in some children are still witnessed; but, happily for education, the first exhibition of it to a whole school is not so common. One striking proof of the novelty and extent of its effects upon the pupils, and of the vivid contrast it produced with that to which the teachers had at that time been accustomed, is afforded by the fact, that serious objections were sometimes made to its introduction, by well-meaning individuals, on account of its breaking in, as they said, upon the proper devotional solemnity of the children;—as if the apathy of languor and weariness was identical with reverence, and mental energy and joyous feelings were incompatible with the liveliest devotion. These opinions have now happily disappeared; and the catechetical exercise is not now, on that account, so frequently opposed. Christians now perceive, that by making these rough places smooth, and the crooked ways straight for the tottering feet of the lambs of the flock, they are following the best, as it is the appointed means, of "making ready a people prepared for the Lord."

To the teacher, especially, it must be a matter of great practical importance, to perceive clearly the cause why this exercise is so fascinating to the young, as well as so beneficial in education. The cause, when we analyze all the circumstances, is simply this, that it resembles, in all its leading characteristics, those amusements and pastimes of which children are so fond. In other words, the prosecution of the catechetical exercise with the young, produces in reality the same effects as a game would do if played with their teacher. It brings into action, and it keeps in lively operation, all those mental elements, which, in ordinary cases, constitute their play; and the effects of course are nearly similar. We shall direct the reader's attention to this curious fact for a moment.

It is easy to perceive, that the pleasure and happiness experienced by a child during his play, arise altogether from the state of his mind, to which the physical exercises and amusements only conduce. When this mental satisfaction is examined, we find it to consist chiefly of two elements,—that of active thought, and that of self-approbation. The first,—that of active thought, or the reiteration of ideas, we have before pointed out and explained, as it is illustrated in their play, and in the pleasure they take in hearing stories, reading riddles, dressing dolls, and similar acts; and it is only here necessary to add, that their desire of congregating together for amusement has its origin in a similar cause. New ideas stimulate more powerfully to active thought; and children soon find, and insensibly draw the lesson, that the aggregate of new ideas is always enlarged by an increase of the number of persons who supply them. Two children will play with the same number of toys for a longer time, without tiring, than if they were alone;—and three or four would, in the same proportion, increase the interest and prolong the season of activity. But as soon as the reiteration of the ideas suggested by their game becomes languid or difficult, their play for the time loses its charms, and the fascination is gone. That it is the cessation of active thought, which is the chief cause of their play ceasing to please, is proved from the circumstance, that if another interesting companion shall be added to their number, or if any thing shall occur to renew this operation,—the reiteration of ideas,—upon the mind, the same degree of interest, and to a corresponding extent, is immediately felt, and the play is resumed. Now, the catechetical exercise is in reality the same operation in another form. The questions of the teacher excite the pupil to the same kind of active thought as that which gives relish to his play; and, while the teacher confines himself within the limits of the announcement, the mental excitement is active, but moderate, and always successful.

This leads us to observe the influence which the catechetical exercise exerts in affording means for that self-approbation, or sense of merit, which constitutes another element of delight to a child during his play. All must have observed the beneficial effects of this principle in children, as an incitement to emulation and good conduct. It is not only perceptible in the love of approbation from their superiors, but in their desire to excel at all times. We see it in the pleasure felt by the child when he outstrips his fellows in the race,—when he catches his companion at "hide and seek,"—when he finds the hidden article at "seek and find,"—in winning a game, expounding a riddle, or gaining a place in his class. In all these instances there is a feeling of pure satisfaction and delight;—a feeling of self-estimation, which is at once the guardian and the reward of virtue. Now, when the catechetical exercise is conducted in its purity,—that is, when the teacher keeps strictly to the announcement, without wandering where the child cannot follow him,—the answers are invariably within the limits of the child's capacity;—they are answered successfully; and every answer is a subject of triumph. He has a delightful consciousness of having overcome a difficulty, deserved approbation, and made an advance in the pathway of merit. When properly conducted, therefore, the catechetical exercise becomes to the pupils a succession of victories; and it imparts all that delight, softened and purified, which he experiences in excelling his companion, or in winning a game.—These are the reasons why the catechetical exercise is so much relished by the young, and why it has succeeded so powerfully, not only in smoothing the pathway of education, but also in shortening it.

From a careful consideration of all these circumstances, we are led to conclude, that the catechetical exercise does, in a superior degree, fulfil all the stipulations required for imitating Nature, in exciting to the reiteration of ideas by children, and thus disciplining and cultivating the powers of their minds. We might also have remarked, that another advantage arising from persevering in this exercise, is the arresting of the attention of the children, and successfully training them to hear and understand through life the oral communications of others;—but we hasten to consider the time and the order in which this exercise should be made use of in schools.

Nature intends, that the cultivation and strengthening of the powers of the mind shall in every case precede those exercises in which their strength is to be tried. In infants and young children we perceive this cultivation and invigorating of the mind going on, long before these powers are to be taxed even for their own preservation. The child is no doubt putting them to use; but in every such case it is voluntary, and not compulsory,—a matter of choice on the part of the child, and not of necessity. The infant, or even the child, is never required to take care of itself, to clothe itself, to wash itself, or even to feed itself. To require it to do so before the mind could comprehend the nature and the design of the particular duty, would be both unreasonable and cruel. This being the case, the exercises of the nursery and the school must be regulated in a similar manner, and follow the same law. The due cultivation of the mind, like the due preparation of the soil, must always precede the sowing of the seed. If this principle in Nature be duly attended to, the seeds of knowledge afterwards cast into the soil thus broken up and prepared, will be readily received and nourished to perfection; but if the soil be neglected, both the seed and the labour will be lost, the anticipations of the spring and summer will end in delusion, and the folly of the whole proceeding will be shewn by a succession of noxious weeds, and at last by an unproductive harvest.

The evils which must necessarily result from thus running counter to Nature in this first part of her educational proceedings, may be aptly illustrated by the very common custom of beginning a child's education by teaching it to read. It would perhaps be difficult to convince many that this custom is either unnatural or improper. We shall not attempt here to argue the matter, but shall merely state a fact which they cannot deny, and which will answer the purpose we think much better than an argument.—To teach the art of reading was wont to require the labour of several months, sometimes years, before the perusal of a book could be managed by the child with any degree of ease,—and even then, without any thing approaching to satisfaction or pleasure. And even yet, although the error has in some measure been perceived of late years, yet the art of reading by the young, still requires several months' attendance at school, with corresponding labour to the teacher, and great irritation and unhappiness to the child. But experience has established the fact, that, by acting on the principle of previous preparation which we are here enforcing, and by calling into operation the principle of individuation formerly explained, the whole drudgery of teaching a child to read is got over in a week,—sometimes in a day; and this with much more ease and satisfaction, than could have been done by a thousand lessons while his mind was unprepared.[11]

The accumulation of labour, and the loss of precious time by this non-observance of the dictates of Nature, are in themselves serious evils; but they are not by any means so great as some others which almost invariably accompany this unnatural mode of proceeding with the young. Many who have nominally been taught to read, are still quite unable to understand by reading. Those who have heard chapters read by families in the country, "verse about," will at once understand what we here mean; and even in towns and cities where newspapers and low-priced books are more numerous and more tempting, it often requires long practice before the emancipated child can read these publications so readily and intelligently as they are intended to be. It is another, and an entirely different course of learning to which he subjects himself, when he labours to acquire the capacity of understanding the words that he reads, as readily as the words that he hears. Where the inducements to this are sufficiently powerful, the ability is no doubt at last acquired;—but where these stimulants are awanting, the difficulty of understanding by reading has by the previous habit become so great, that reading is gradually disused, and at last forgotten.

Many are at a loss to account for this; but it is easily explained on the above principles. To teach a child to read, before his mind is capable of understanding, or of reiterating the ideas conveyed by the words he is reading, is to train him to this habit of reading mechanically;—that is, of reading without understanding. He gradually acquires the habit of pronouncing the words which he traces with the eye, while the mind is busily engaged upon something else; in the same manner that a person acquires the habit of thinking, and even of speaking, while knitting a stocking, or sewing a seam. This habit is confirmed by constant practice; and then, the difficulty of getting off the habit is all but insurmountable. This difficulty will be best understood by the experience of those who have been during some time of their life compelled to abandon a habit after it was thoroughly confirmed;—or by those who will but try the difficulty of persevering to do something with the left hand, which has hitherto been done with the right. A very little consideration will shew, that when this habit of reading mechanically has once been established, it will require, like an improper mode of holding the pen in writing, ten-fold more labour and self-denial to remedy the evil, than it would have taken at first to prevent it, by learning to do the thing properly and perfectly.

Much therefore depends upon the early and persevering use of the catechetical exercise for cultivating a child's mind, before beginning to teach it the art of reading, or requiring it to make use of the powers of the mind on subjects which these powers are as yet incapable of comprehending. By proper preliminary exercises, the powers of the mind will be gradually expanded; ideas of every different kind, both individually and in connection with each other, will become familiar; the design of language in receiving and communicating truth will by degrees be practically understood; and, by means of the catechetical exercise, it will be gradually and successfully practised. These are obviously the means by which the present crooked ways in the child's early progress in education are to be made straight, and the rough and difficult paths which he has had so long to tread, may now be made both easy and smooth.[12]

The effects of the catechetical exercise, and its uniform beneficial results, have given sufficient evidence of its being a close imitation of Nature in this part of her educational process. Its success indeed has been invariable, even when employed by those who remained unconscious of the great principles by which that success was to be regulated. The observations and experiments employed to ascertain in some measure the extent of its efficiency, have uniformly been satisfactory, and to a few of these we shall here very shortly advert.

The first case of importance, which came under our notice, and to which we think it advisable to allude, is that of Mary L. who, about the year 1820, resided in Lady Yester's parish in Edinburgh. This girl, when her name was taken up for the Local Sabbath Schools in that parish, was about seven or eight years of age, and in respect to mental capacity, appeared to be little better than an idiot. She could not comprehend the most simple idea, if it related to any thing beyond the household objects which were daily forced upon her observation, and which had individually become familiar to the senses; and was unable to receive any instruction with the other children, however young. The catechetical exercise was adopted with her, as with the other scholars; and although, for a long period, she was unable to collect knowledge, yet the constant discipline to which the powers of the mind were thus subjected, had the happiest effect in bringing them into tone, and at last giving her the command of them. The comprehending of a simple truth when announced, became more and more distinct, and the answering of the corresponding questions, became gradually more correct and easy. At a very early period she began to relish the exercises of the school; and although these occurred only on the Sundays, she continued rapidly to improve; till, in the course of a few years, she was able to join the higher classes of the children, and made a respectable appearance among her companions, at those times when they were submitted to examination.—When these schools were broken up, no stranger could have remarked any difference between Mary L. and an ordinary child of the same age.

A similar instance occurred more recently in the case of two sisters, (Margaret and Mary J.) the condition of whose minds originally was better, although not much, than that of Mary L. At the respective ages of six and eight years, these sisters could scarcely receive or comprehend the simplest idea not connected with their daily ordinary affairs. For some years they had no more teaching, or regular mental exercise, than two hours weekly on the Sundays, and during that period they were, in regard to mental capacity, advancing, but still nearly alike. The eldest (Margaret,) was then removed to another class, the teacher of which dedicated another evening during the week for the benefit of her scholars. The consequence of this apparently slight addition to the mental exercise of this girl soon became apparent; and in the course of a short time, the powers of Margaret's mind not only advanced beyond those of her sister's, but equalled at least those of children of the same age, who had not enjoyed similar opportunities of improvement. Her sister Mary, who continued to enjoy only the two hours on Sunday, advanced proportionally in mental strength;—and before she left the district in which the school was situated, her original incapacity could scarcely have been credited by a stranger. In proof of this, it may be added, that long after she had left the parish, the writer found her by accident in the school which she attended after removing, examined her with the other children, and made some strict and searching enquiries concerning her. The report of her teacher was exceedingly satisfactory; and, without knowing the reason of these enquiries, declared, that Mary J. was one of her best scholars. Before leaving this notice of these two children, there is a circumstance which may perhaps be worthy of recording. In Margaret's countenance there had gradually appeared, latterly, that which to a stranger gave all the ordinary indications of intellect, and rather superior intelligence; while in Mary's case, at the same period, there continued to be much of that vacancy of look, and stupid stare, indicative rather of what she was, than of what she had become. That also, however, was gradually disappearing.

We shall advert only to one other instance, less remarkable perhaps, and certainly not so decisive, on account of the shortness of the time during which the experiment was continued. In the opinion of the honourable and venerable examinators, however, it was considered as sufficiently decisive, and of much public importance. Its application to prison discipline may ultimately be of value, where prisoners are confined but for short periods, and where the cultivation of the mind, and the growing capacity to receive and retain religious truth are objects of importance.

In the experiment in 1828, made before the Lord Provost, Principal, Professors, and Clergymen of Edinburgh, in the County Jail, a class of criminals which had been formed three weeks before, and exercised one hour daily, were thoroughly and individually examined without intermission during nearly three hours. Our present extract from the Report of that Experiment refers, not to the amount of knowledge acquired by these persons during these three weeks, but to the capacity which, at the end of that time, they were found to possess of acquiring every sort of knowledge. This experiment was so far imperfect, as the Examinators had no means of ascertaining the true state of their minds, previous to the commencement of their exercises. But having, upon enquiry found from the governor of the prison, that there had been no selection, that all the individuals in the ward had been taken, and that at the commencement of the experiment, they formed a fair sample of the prisoners commonly under his charge,—the progress of this mental cultivation during that short period, became a special object of examination by the Reverend and learned individuals who conducted it. Their Report of the Experiment bears, that "these individuals had been taken without any regard to their abilities, and former acquirements, and formed a fair average of the usual prisoners." In endeavouring to ascertain the grasp of mind which these individuals possessed, and the readiness with which they received and retained whatever was, even for the first time, communicated to them, "it was mentioned, that a gentlemen on the previous day, in order to try the capacity of mind which they had attained, desired Mr Gall to catechise them upon a section, consisting of fourteen verses, which they had not seen before, and that, after just ten minutes' examination, one woman, who could not read, repeated the whole distinctly in her own words. Dr Brunton proposed, for a similar experiment, the parable of the 'talents,' with which none was acquainted except one woman, who was consequently not permitted to answer. With its being only read to them, and with a few minutes' catechising, they perceived its various circumstances, and were able to enumerate them in detail. This exercise demonstrated the capacity of attention, and the power of analyzing and laying hold of circumstances, which they had reached, as well as the indisputable superiority of this System, in unfolding and strengthening the mental faculties, even in adults."

"The writer of the Report," it is added, "was not acquainted with the extent of their acquirements when Mr Gall commenced his operations; but judging from the examination, and from his knowledge of the contents of the books taught, he has no hesitation in averring, that the answers which they gave, arose entirely from information communicated by them. And when he reflects that their answers, being clothed in their own words, guaranteed the fact, that it was the ideas upon which they had seized, and that their knowledge participated in no degree of rote, the conviction to his mind is irresistible, that the universal application of the Lesson System to Prison Discipline, and to adults everywhere, would be followed by effects, incalculably precious to the individuals themselves, and to the improving of society in general."

Numerous other instances might be adduced in proof of the efficiency of this method of attempting to imitate Nature in this first part of her educational process, who will always be faithful in adhering to her own laws, and countenancing her own work. These however may suffice;—and it ought not to escape observation, that in two of the cases first alluded to, the young persons enjoyed only two hours' instruction in the week, and these not divided, but continuously given at one time. For this reason, it might have been feared, that the benefits then received would have been lost, or neutralized, by the variety of objects or amusements which must have intervened during the week between the lessons. But it was not so. And we may here remark, that if with all these disadvantages, so much good was really done in cultivating the powers of the mind by this exercise, what may we not expect by the enlightened, regular, and daily application of the same powerful principles in our ordinary schools, when the teacher shall know where the virtue of the weapon which he wields really lies, and when the nature of the material he is called to work upon is also better understood. Every exercise and every operation in the school will then be made to "tell;" and every moment of the pupils' attendance will be improved. In these circumstances, we are far within the limits of the truth when we say, that more real substantial education will then be communicated in one month, than it has been usual to receive by the labours of a whole year.

From what has been already ascertained, we are fully warranted in making the following remarks.

1. From the above facts we can readily ascertain the cause, why some exercises employed in education are so much relished by the young, and so efficient in giving strength and elasticity to the mind; while others, on the contrary are so inefficient, so irksome, and sometimes so intolerable. Every exercise that tends to produce active thought,—the "reiteration of ideas,"—is natural, and therefore, not only promotes healthful mental vigour, but is also exciting and delightful; while, on the contrary, whenever the mind is fettered by the mere decyphering of words, or the repeating of sounds, without reiterating ideas, the exercise is altogether unnatural, and must of course be irritating to the child, and barren of good.

2. By a due consideration of the above principles, we see the reason why mental arithmetic, though it may not communicate any knowledge, is yet productive of considerable mental vigour. These exercises compel the young to a species of voluntary thought, the reiteration in the mind of the powers of numbers; and although the result of the particular calculations which are then made, may never again be of any service to the pupil, yet the consequent exercise of mind is beneficial. It should never be forgotten, however, that this exercise of mind upon numbers is altogether an artificial operation, and is on this account, neither so efficient nor so pleasant as the reiteration of moral or physical truths. The same degree of mental exercise, brought into operation upon some useful fact, where the imagination as well as the understanding, can take a part, would at once be more natural, more efficient, more pleasant, and more useful.

3. From the nature and operation of the above principle, also, we can perceive in what the efficiency of Pestalozzi's "Exercises on Objects," consists.—When a child is required to tell you the colour and the consistence of milk, qualities which have all along been familiar to him, it conveys to him no knowledge; but it excites to observation and active thought,—to the "reiteration of ideas;"—and for this reason it is salutary. But it is still equally true, as in the former case, that the same degree of mental exercise, brought into operation upon some useful practical truth, would be at least equally useful as a mental stimulant, and much more beneficial as an educational exercise.

4. From the nature of this great fundamental principle in mental cultivation, as consisting in the reiteration of ideas, and not of words, we have a key by which we can satisfactorily explain the remarkable, and hitherto unaccountable fact, that many persons who, in youth and at school, have been ranked among the dullest scholars, have afterwards become the greatest men. An active mind, in exact proportion to its vigour, will powerfully struggle against the unnatural thraldom of mere mechanical verbal exercises. The mind in a healthful state will not be satisfied with words, which are but the medium of ideas, because ideas alone are the natural food of the mind. Till the powers of the mind, therefore, are sufficiently enfeebled by time and perseverance, it will struggle with its fetters, and it will be repressed only by coercion. Minds naturally weak, or gradually subdued, may and do submit to this artificial bondage,—this unnatural drudgery; but the vigorous and powerful mind, under favourable circumstances, spurns the trammels, and continues to struggle on. It may be a protracted warfare,—but it must at last come to a close; and it is not till the pupil has emerged from this mental dungeon, and has had these galling fetters fairly knocked off, that the natural elasticity and strength of his mind find themselves at freedom, with sufficient room and liberty to act. The impetus then received, and the delight in the mental independence then felt, have frequently led to the brightest results. Hence it is, that the reputed dunce of the school, has not unfrequently become the ornament of the senate.

Lastly, we would remark, that from the facts here enumerated, we derive a good test by which to try every new exercise proposed for training the young, and for cultivating the powers of the mind. If the exercise recommended compels the child to active thought,—to the voluntary exercise of his own mind upon useful ideas,—that exercise, whatever be its form, will, to that extent at least, be beneficial. And if, at the same time, it can be associated with the acquisition of knowledge, with the application of knowledge, or with the ready communication of knowledge,—all of which, as we have seen, are concomitants in Nature's process,—it will, in an equal degree, be valuable and worthy of adoption. But if, on the contrary, the exercise may be performed without the necessity of voluntary thought, or the reiteration of ideas by the mind, however plausible or imposing it may appear, it is next to certain, that although such an exercise may be sufficiently burdensome to the child, and cause much labour and anxiety to the teacher, it will most assuredly be at least useless, if not injurious.

FOOTNOTES:

CHAP. II.

On the Methods by which Nature may be imitated in the Pupil's Acquisition of Knowledge; with a Review of the Analogy between the Mental and Physical Appetites of the Young.

The second step in the progress of Nature's pupil is the acquisition of knowledge.—This has always been considered a chief object in every system of education; and the discovery of the most efficient means by which it may be accomplished, must be a matter of great importance.

In our remarks upon this subject in a previous chapter, we have shewn, that Nature in her operations employs four distinct principles for accumulating knowledge, for retaining it upon the memory, and for keeping it in readiness for use at the command of the will. There are, First, the "reiteration of ideas" by the mind, without which there can be no knowledge; Secondly, the principle of "Individuation," by which the knowledge of objects and truths is acquired one by one; Thirdly, the principle of "Grouping," or Association, in which the mind views as one object, what is really composed of many; and, Fourthly, the principle of "Analysis," or Classification, in which the judgment is brought into exercise, the different portions of our knowledge are arranged and classified under different heads and branches, and the whole retained in order at the command of the will, when any portion of it is required.—Our object now is to consider, what means are within the reach of the parent and the teacher, by which Nature in these several processes may be successfully imitated, while they endeavour to communicate the elements of knowledge to the young.

Ideas being the only proper food of the mind, Nature has created in the young an extraordinary appetite and desire for their possession. There is a striking analogy in this respect, between the strengthening of the body by food, and the invigorating of the mind by knowledge; and before proceeding to detail the methods by which the parent or the teacher may successfully break down and prepare the bread of knowledge for their pupils in imitation of Nature, it will be of advantage here to consider more particularly some of the circumstances connected with this instructive analogy. By tracing the likeness so conspicuously held out to us in this analogy by Nature herself, we shall be greatly assisted in evading the bewildering and mystifying influence of prejudice, and the reader will be much better prepared to judge of the value of those means recommended for nourishing and strengthening the mind by knowledge, when he finds them to correspond so exactly with similar principles employed by Nature for the nourishing and strengthening of the body by food. We shall by this means, we hope, be able to detect some of those fallacies which have long tended to trammel the exertions, and to prevent the success of the teacher in his interesting labours.

The first point of analogy to which we would advert, is the vigour and activity of the mental appetite in the young, which corresponds so strikingly with the frequent and urgent craving of their bodily appetite for food.—The desire of food for the body, and the desire of knowledge for the mind, are alike restless and insatiable in childhood; and a similar amount of satisfaction and pleasure is the consequence, whenever these desires are prudently gratified. That the desire for knowledge in the young is often weakened, and sometimes destroyed, is but too true; but this is the work of man, not of Nature. It will accordingly be found on investigation, with but few exceptions, that wherever the general appetite of the child, either for mental or bodily food, becomes languid or weak, it is either the effect for disease or of some grievous abuse.

Another point of analogy consists, in the necessity of the personal active co-operation of the child himself in receiving and digesting his food.—There is no such thing in Nature as a child being fed and nourished by proxy. His food must be received, digested, and assimilated by his own powers, and by the use of his own organs, else he will never be fed. In the same way, the food for his mind can benefit him only in so far as he himself is the active agent. He must himself receive, reiterate in his own mind, and commit to the keeping of his memory, every idea presented to him by his teacher. No one can do this for him;—he must do it himself. In a family, the parent may provide, dress, and communicate the food to the child,—but he can do no more; and similar is the case with respect to the mental food provided by the teacher. He may no doubt select the most appropriate kinds,—he may simplify it,—he may break it down into morsels;—but his pupils, if they are to learn, must learn for themselves. When a pupil, to save himself trouble, tries to evade the learning of a preliminary lesson, or when the teacher winks at the evasion by performing the exercise for him, it is as absurd as for a parent to eat the child's food, and expect at the same time that his boy is to be nourished by it. If the mental food be too strong for the child, something more simple must be provided for him; but to continue to administer knowledge which the pupil does not comprehend, and force the strong mental food of an adult upon the tender capacities of a child, is an error of the most mischievous kind. It prevents the mind from acting at all, without which there can be no improvement. The mind must wield its own weapons if ignorance is to be dislodged; and if the child is to advance at all, he must overcome the difficulties that lie in his way by the exertion of his own powers. His teacher may no doubt direct him as to the best and the easiest way of accomplishing his object; but that is all. The pupil must in every case perform the exercise for himself.

This leads us to notice another point of analogy in this case, which is, the necessity of adapting the food to the age and capacities of those who are to receive it.—There is in the mental, as well as in the physical nourishment provided for our race, milk for the weak, as well as meat for the strong; and it is necessary in both cases that the kind and the quantity be carefully attended to. In the case of the strong, there is less danger; because, with regard both to the mental and bodily food, Nature has so ordered matters, that the food which is best adapted for the weak, will also nourish the strong; but the food adapted for the strong is never suitable, and is often poisonous to the weak. There must therefore be, in all cases where the young are concerned, as careful a selection of the mental food, as there is of the food for the body; and the parent or teacher should, in all cases, present only such subjects, and such ideas to his pupils, as the state of their faculties, or the progress of their knowledge, enables them to understand and apply.

Another striking point of analogy between mental and bodily nourishment, is to be found in the effects of repletion, when too great a quantity of food is communicated at one time.—As the increase of a child's bodily strength does not depend upon the mere quantity of food forced into his stomach, but upon that portion only which is healthfully digested and assimilated; so in like manner, the amount of a child's knowledge will not correspond to the number of ideas forced upon his attention by the teacher, but to those only which have been reiterated by the mind, and committed by that process to the keeping of the memory. In both cases, the evil of repletion is two-fold; there is the waste of food and of labour, while the strength and the growth of the child, instead of being promoted, are retarded and diminished. The physical appetite gains strength, by moderate exercise; but it is palled and weakened by every instance of repletion. The desire for food is never for any length of time at rest, so long as the stomach is kept in proper tone by moderate and frequent feeding; and the quantity of food which a healthy child will in these circumstances consume, is often surprising. But whenever the stomach is gorged, then restlessness, uneasiness, and not unfrequently disease, are the consequences. The digestive powers are weakened, the tone of the stomach is relaxed, and, instead of the healthful craving for food which should occur at the proper interval, the appetite is destroyed, and food of every kind is nauseated.—Exactly similar is the case with the mental appetite. The natural curiosity of children, or, in other words, their desire of information, before it is checked or overloaded by mismanagement, is almost insatiable; and the astonishing amount of knowledge which they usually acquire between the ages of one and three years, while under the guidance of Nature, has been formerly alluded to. But this desire of information, and this capacity for receiving it, are by no means confined to that early period of their lives. The same appetite for knowledge would increase and acquire additional strength, were it but properly directed, or furnished with moderate and suitable means of gratification. But when a parent or teacher impatiently attempts to force it upon the child more rapidly than he can receive it,—that is, than he can reiterate it in his mind for himself,—he not only irritates and harasses the child, but his attempt neutralizes the effect of the ideas which the child would otherwise pleasantly and efficiently have received. Every such attempt to do more than enough greatly weakens the powers of the pupil's mind, and discourages him from any after attempt to increase his knowledge.

As a general maxim in the education of the young, it may here be observed, that as long as the understanding of a child remains clear, and he can distinctly perceive the truths which are communicated to him, he will find himself pleasantly and profitably employed, and will soon acquire a habit of distinct mental vision;—the powers of his mind will be rapidly expanded and strengthened, and he will receive and retain the knowledge communicated to him with ease and with pleasure. But when, on the contrary, he is overtasked, and more ideas are forced upon his attention than his capacity can receive, the mind becomes disturbed and confused, the mental perception becomes cloudy and indistinct, and all that is communicated in these circumstances is absolutely lost. If the parent or teacher insists on the pupil persevering in his mental meal, in the hope that things will get better, we can easily, from the present analogy, perceive the fallacy of such a hope. Perseverance will only create additional perplexity; the whole powers of the child's mind will become more and more enfeebled, or totally prostrated; the labour of the teacher will be lost; and he will find his pupil now, and for some time afterwards, much less able to take a clear and distinct view of any subject than he was before.

There is yet one other point of analogy between the supply of food for the body and the mind, to which we must also allude. It is to be found in the baneful, and often destructive, effects of unnatural stimulants applied to the mental appetite, which strikingly correspond in their effects to the pernicious habit of supplying stimulants to the young in their ordinary food.—Stimulants will no doubt, in both cases, produce for the time additional excitement;—but they are neither natural nor necessary. In all ordinary cases, Nature has made ample provision for the supposed want, of which the craving—the natural and healthy craving—of children for knowledge and for food, gives ample testimony. To counteract or to weaken this natural desire would be improper;—but artificially to increase it is always dangerous. The reason is obvious; for the excitement thus caused being unnatural, it is always temporary; but its pernicious effects very soon become extensive and permanent. Every physician knows, that the habitual use of stimulants in the food of the young, weakens the tone of the stomach, palls the appetite, creates a disrelish for plain and wholesome food, and frequently destroys the powers of digestion for ever after. Very similar are the effects of unnatural stimulants to the mental appetite in training and teaching the young, when these stimulants are habitually, or even frequently administered. Their curiosity,—their appetite for knowledge,—is naturally so vigorous, that the repetition, or the reading of any story, however commonplace or uninteresting to us, gives them the sincerest pleasure, provided only that they understand and can follow it. This is a most wise and beneficent provision of Nature, of which parents and teachers should be careful to take advantage. It is because of this disposition in children, that in all ordinary cases, the simplest narrative or anecdote in ordinary life, may be successfully employed in giving them mental strength, and in communicating permanent moral instruction. But whenever unnatural and injudicious excitements are used in their instruction, and the child's imagination has been stimulated and defiled by the ideas of giants and ogres, fairies and ghosts, the whole natural tone of the mind is destroyed, plain and even interesting stories and narratives lose their proper attraction, and a diseased and insatiable appetite for the marvellous and the horrible is generally created. Even to adults, and much more to children, whose minds have been thus abused, the plain paths of probability and truth have lost every charm; and the study of abstract but useful subjects becomes to them a nauseous task—an intolerable burden.

The accuracy of this analogy, we think, will readily be admitted by all. And if so, it will at least help to illustrate, if it does not prove, some of the important conclusions to which we shall find ourselves led upon other, and philosophical grounds. But as the prejudices which, during several centuries, have been gradually congregating around the science of education are so many and so powerful, every legitimate means, and this among others, should be combined for the purpose of removing them.

CHAP. III.

How Nature may be imitated in Communicating Knowledge to the Pupil, by the Reiteration of Ideas.

The phenomenon in mechanics and natural philosophy, which is popularly termed "Suction," may be exhibited in a thousand different ways, and yet all are the result of but one cause. When we witness the various phenomena of the air and common pump,—the barometer and the cupping glass,—the sipping of our tea, and the traversing of an insect on the mirror or the roof,—the operations appear so very dissimilar, that we are ready to attribute them to the action of a variety of agents. But it is not so;—for when we trace each of them back to its primitive cause, we find that each and all of these wonders are produced by the weight of the atmosphere, and that alone. In precisely the same manner, knowledge may apparently be communicated to the human mind in a thousand different ways; and yet, when we examine each, and trace it to its primitive cause, we find the phenomenon to be one—and one alone. The truth has been received and lodged with the memory,—made part of our knowledge—by the reiteration of its idea by the mind itself;—by an exercise of active, voluntary thought upon the knowledge thus communicated. The cause and the effect invariably follow each other both in old and young; for whenever a new idea is perceived and reiterated by the pupil,—if it should be but once,—the knowledge of the child is to that extent increased; but whenever this act of the mind is awanting, there can be no additional information received;—the increase of knowledge is found to be impossible. This appears to be a law of our Nature, to which we know of no exception.

It is also worthy of remark here, that the retention or permanence of the ideas thus committed to the keeping of the memory depends upon two circumstances. The first is, the vigour of the mental powers, or the intensity of the impression made upon them at the time of reiteration;—and the second, and certainly the principal circumstance, is the frequency of their reiteration by the mind. In evidence of the first we see, that a fall, a fright, or a narrow escape from imminent danger, although it occurred but once, and perhaps in early infancy, will be remembered through life; and in proof of the second, we find, that the scenes and circumstances of childhood being frequently and daily reiterated by the mind, at a time when it has little else to reiterate, remain permanently on the memory. The object therefore most to be desired by the teacher, is an exercise, or a series of exercises, by which, in his attempts to communicate knowledge to his pupil, this act of reiteration may be secured, and if possible repeated at pleasure, for more permanently fixing on the memory the knowledge communicated.

In a former chapter we shewed, that this act of reiteration is the instrument employed by Nature for cultivating the powers of the mind as well as for communicating and impressing knowledge;—and we have also shewn that Nature in that process was successfully imitated by means of the catechetical exercise. This exercise has accordingly been found as powerful and efficient in promoting this, her second object, as it is in the first. The success of the catechetical exercise in communicating knowledge clearly to the young, even when it is but imperfectly managed, has been extensive and uniform; but wherever its nature has been properly understood, and it has been scientifically conducted, the amount of knowledge communicated in a given time, and with a given amount of mental and physical labour, stands confessedly without a parallel in the previous history of education. Minds the most obtuse, habits of listlessness the most inveterate, and mental imbecility, bordering on idiotcy, have been powerfully assailed and overcome; and knowledge, by means of this exercise, has forced its way, and firmly secured a place for itself, in minds which previously were little more than a blank.

The causes of its success in cultivating the powers of the mind were formerly explained; but its adaptation to the communicating of knowledge is still more peculiarly striking. We shall endeavour to point out a few of these peculiarities.

Let us for that purpose suppose a teacher desirous of communicating to a child the important fact, that "God at first made all things of nothing to shew his greatness;" it must be done, either by the child reading or hearing the sentence. If it be read, there is at least a chance, that the words may be all decyphered, and audibly pronounced, while the ideas contained in them have not yet reached the mind. The child may have carefully examined each word as it occurred, and may have reiterated each of them on his mind as he read them, and yet there may not be the slightest addition to his knowledge. The reiteration of words, as we have before explained, is not that which Nature requires, but the reiteration of ideas; and although we may, by substituting the one for the other, deceive ourselves, Nature will not be deceived; for unless the ideas contained in the sentence be reiterated by the mind, there can be no additional information conveyed.—The same thing may happen, if the words, instead of being read by the child, are announced by the teacher. The pupil may in that case hear the sounds; nay, he may repeat the words, and thus reiterate them in his mind after the teacher; but if he has not translated the words into their proper ideas as he proceeded, experience proves, that his knowledge remains as limited as before;—there has been no additional information. These cases are so common, and so uniform, that no farther illustration we think needs be given of them.

The desideratum in both these cases is, some exercise by which the child shall be compelled to translate the words into their several ideas; and by reiterating the ideas themselves, not the words which convey them, he shall be enabled at once to commit them to the keeping of the memory, and thus make them part of his knowledge. The catechetical exercise supplies this want. For if, in either case, after the words have been read or repeated, the child is asked, "What did God make?" the translation of the words into the ideas, if previously neglected, is now forced upon him, because without this it is impossible for him to prepare the answer. The ideas must be drawn from the words, and reiterated by the mind, independently of the words, before the exercise can be completed. And not only must the particular idea which answers the question be extracted, but the whole of the ideas contained in the sentence must be reiterated by the mind, before the selection can be begun, and the choice made. It is also specially worthy of remark, that even in such a case as this, where, on the sentence being read or heard, the words alone were at first perceived, yet no sooner does the mind proceed to its legitimate object, the reiteration of the ideas which the words convey, than the words themselves are instantly lost sight of, and in one sense are never again thought of. As soon as the kernel is extracted, the shell has lost its value. The pupil having once got sight of the ideas, tenaciously keeps hold of them, and never once thinks again of the words, which were merely the instrument employed by Nature to convey them. When the question is asked, and he answers it, the process consists in his translating the words of the whole sentence into their several ideas, chusing out the idea which answers the question from all the others, and then in clothing that idea in words which are now entirely his own.

In all this there is a long and intricate series of mental exercises, in every one of which the mind is actively employed, and it is in this, as before explained, that the value of this exercise, in cultivating the powers of the mind, really consists. But our present business is with the acquisition of knowledge by its means; and we have to observe, that in each of the mental operations required for the answer of a single question, the ideas contained in the original sentence have repeatedly to undergo the process of reiteration; by which they are more clearly perceived, and more permanently fixed on the memory, than they otherwise could have been. Hence the value of this exercise, even in those cases where the original sentence has been at the first fully understood. This will appear obvious by tracing the mental operation of the pupil from the beginning, when he has to answer the question.

There is first the understanding of the question asked at him. This must be heard and reiterated by the mind before its purport can be perceived, and all this before he can commence the proper mental operation upon the original sentence from which his answer is to be selected. He has then to review the words of the original sentence, still sounding in his ears, and to translate them into their several ideas, before he can begin to select the one required. Then comes the act of selection, having to chuse out from among all the others the special idea required as his answer; and lastly, there is the clothing of that idea in words suitable for the occasion, and the audibly pronouncing of these words as the answer required. The rapidity with which the mind passes from one part of this exercise to another, may prevent these several operations from being perceived, but it is not the less true that they must have taken place. And hence arises the value of the catechetical exercise, not only in cultivating in an extraordinary degree the mental faculties of the pupil, but in powerfully forcing information upon the mind, and permanently fixing it upon the memory for after use.

But even this does not exhaust the catalogue of benefits to be derived from the use of the catechetical exercise in communicating knowledge to the young. We have supposed only one question to have been asked by the teacher upon the original sentence, and yet we have seen that this one question has in fact in a great measure secured the understanding of the whole of the ideas contained in it. But instead of one question, the catechetical exercise has the power of originating many, each producing successively similar results, but with greater ease to the child, and with much more effect in rivetting the several ideas upon the memory. The first question, when properly put, gives the pupil the command of the whole proposition; but it requires considerable mental effort in the child to recall the words, and internally to translate the ideas for the first time. But when this has once been done, and a second question is asked from the same sentence, the ideas being now more familiar, there is less mental labour required in preparing the answer, and there being equal success, there is of course more satisfaction. The ideas become much more clear and distinct before the mind by a second review; and the effect, in fixing the whole upon the memory, is much more powerful than it could be by means of the first. When therefore the teacher confines himself to the original sentence, and does not indulge in catechetical wanderings, the questions, "When did God make all things?" "How many things did God make?" "Of what did God make all things?" and, "Why did God make all things?" produce extensive and powerful effects. The pupil finds himself able to master each question in succession without difficulty, and the answering of each appears to him a triumph. Whoever has been in the habit of making use of this exercise in the manner explained above, must have witnessed with pleasure the life, and energy, and delight, which it invariably infuses into the scholar, giving education a perfectly different aspect from what it usually assumes in the eyes of the young, and making it even in the estimation of the pupil a formidable rival to his play. In this manner has Nature set her seal upon this exercise, as a near approximation to her own process for attaining the two preparatory objects she has in view in the education of the young; that of cultivating the powers of the mind, and that of communicating to her pupils the elements of knowledge.

This exercise has been reduced to a regular system, which has placed it more directly at the command of all who undertake the instruction of the young. By a little attention on the part of parents and teachers, to a few simple rules, they may catechise upon any book, and apply the exercise to any species of knowledge whatever. We shall endeavour to explain the nature and uses of these rules.

For the purposes of this exercise, the school books of the pupil are supposed to consist of sentences, each of the principal words in which conveys some specific idea;—these again are combined into clauses, which also convey an idea;—and the combination of these clauses in a sentence, or paragraph, usually forms a complete truth. For example, the sentence, "God at first [made all things] of nothing [to shew his greatness,"] contains one great truth; but the sentence which conveys it, embodies at least two clauses, inclosed in brackets, while the whole is made up of words, each of which is the sign of an idea which may readily be separated from all the others. Now it is evident, that questions may be formed by the teacher relative to each of these three parts. He may ask a question, which shall require the whole truth for the answer; or one which will be answered by a clause; or another which is answered by a word.

In "revising," accordingly, where time is an object, the teacher confines himself to those general questions which bring out the whole truth at once, as is exemplified in the Larger and Shorter Catechisms. This is called the "Connecting Exercise," because it is employed in uniting sections together, which have previously been taught to the pupils separately, but which are necessary to be perceived also in connection. This, however, would be too limited an exercise for the purpose of directing the mind to the several parts of a truth for the first time; and therefore the teacher in those cases forms his questions chiefly upon the clauses in the sentence, and the other words which have some material relation to them, and this is called the "General Exercise." But even this is not enough, where the child is dull, or where healthful mental exercise is required; and accordingly in that case, the teacher not only questions upon the clauses in connection with the other principal words, but he takes the words, of which the clauses are composed, and catechises the child upon them also. This is called the "Verbal Exercise," which has been found of great value in the teacher's intercourse with his younger classes. Upon these principles the Initiatory Catechisms and their Keys have been formed, together with the several Helps for communicating Scriptural knowledge. The success of these school books, although labouring under all the disadvantages of new instruments, imperfectly formed to work out new principles, is mainly to be attributed to the close imitation of Nature aimed at in all their exercises.

The rule for the parent or teacher in mastering these exercises is the same in all; it consists simply in forming the question in such a manner, as that the word, the clause, or the whole proposition, shall be required to make the answer. Sufficient explanation and examples of all this will be found in the Note.[13]

The uniform results of many experiments, have established the importance of this exercise as an instrument in communicating knowledge to the ignorant, whether young or old. We shall shortly advert to a few of the circumstances connected with these experiments, for the purpose of satisfactorily establishing this.

In an experiment made in May 1828, under the direction of the Very Rev. Dr Baird, Principal of the University of Edinburgh, before the Lord Provost, and several of the Professors and Clergymen of that city, nine adult criminals, "taken without regard to their abilities," and who, in the opinion of Governor Rose, "formed a fair average of the usual prisoners," were, in the space of three successive weeks, exercised in whole for eighteen or twenty hours. They were at the end of that time minutely examined in the Chapel of the County Jail, in the presence of the Right Honourable and Reverend Professors and Gentlemen, who formed Principal Baird's committee; and their Report of the experiment and its effects bears, that "the result of this important experiment was, in every point, satisfactory. Not only had much religious knowledge been acquired by the pupils, and that of the most substantial, and certainly the least evanescent kind; but it appeared to have been acquired with ease, and even with satisfaction—a circumstance of material importance in every case, but especially in that of adult prisoners." "The examination evidently brought out only a specimen of their knowledge, and did by no means comprise all that had been acquired by them; but, even though it had constituted the whole amount of their information, the fact that such a treasure had been amassed in three weeks is in itself astonishing. The writer of this Minute was not acquainted with the extent of their acquirements when Mr Gall commenced his operations; but judging from the examination, and from his knowledge of the contents of the books taught, he has no hesitation in averring, that the answers which they gave, arose entirely from information communicated by them. And when he reflects that their answers, being clothed in their own words, guaranteed the fact, that it was the ideas upon which they had seized, and that their knowledge participated in no degree of rote, the conviction to his mind is irresistible, that the universal application of the Lesson System to Prison Discipline, and to adults every where, would be followed by effects incalculably precious to the individuals themselves, and to the improving of society in general."

The efficiency of this exercise in communicating knowledge, was equally conspicuous in another experiment, conducted under the eye of the Principal, Professors, and Clergymen of Aberdeen, in July 1828. The persons on whom this experiment was made, were children taken from the lower classes of society, carefully selected on two several days, by a committee of clergymen appointed for the purpose, from the various schools in the city. These children were all carefully and individually examined in private by the committee, and were chosen from among their companions, not on account of their natural abilities, or educational acquirements, but specially and simply on account of their ignorance. The precautions taken by the Rev. and learned examinators, to secure accuracy in their ultimate decision, were at once judicious and complete; and were intended to enable them to say with confidence at the close of the experiment, that the results, whatever they might be, were really the effects of the exercise and discipline to which the children during it had been subjected, and were in no respect due to the previous capacity or the attainments of the children.

To secure this important preliminary object, therefore, the sub-committee of clergymen above alluded to was appointed, as soon as the experiment was determined upon, with instructions to collect a class of the most ignorant children they could find, attending the several schools, and who it was thought would be, of course, most incapacitated for receiving instruction. This sub-committee, consisting of the Rev. John Murray, the Rev. Abercromby L. Gordon, and the Rev. David Simpson, in their previous Report, say, "We, on two several days, met with the children which were collected from the various schools, and examined them individually, and apart from each other; avoiding every appearance of formality, and endeavouring to draw them into familiar conversation, that we might correctly ascertain the state of their religious knowledge on the three following points, which we considered to be the best criterion by which to judge of their understanding of the other less important points in the gospel scheme of salvation.—These points were, 1. Our connection, as sinners, with Adam; 2. Our connection with Christ as the Saviour; 3. The means by which we become interested in the salvation of Christ. On minutely examining each child on these points, one by one, and endeavouring, by varied and familiar language and cross-questioning, without confusing their ideas, to ascertain the knowledge which they possessed on these first principles, we accurately, and at the time, minuted the result, distinguishing those points which they understood, and those which they did not. From this list we afterwards selected twenty-two names, of children who appeared from the list, to be the most ignorant, by not having any marks of approval on any one of these points on which they were examined;—although delicacy to the children, as well as to their parents and teachers, prevented us from stating to them, that this was the principle by which we had been regulated in our selection. From these twenty-two children, Mr Gall has made up his class of ten, for this experiment, which he proposes shall continue for eight days, occupying two hours each day; and having thus chosen that class of pupils which appeared to us the most ignorant, we have, in justice to Mr Gall and this system of teaching, stated the fact, leaving the examinators to make what allowance they may on this account think proper, in determining on the failure or success of this very important and interesting experiment."

This was the state of the children's knowledge and capacity when the experiment began; and the following was found to be the state of these same children's knowledge when examined publicly in the East Church, before the Very Rev. Principal, Professors, and Clergymen of the city, and a large congregation of the citizens, eight days afterwards.

The children were first interrogated minutely on the doctrines of the gospel, which had been previously arranged in a list under sixteen different heads, embodying all the leading doctrinal points in the Confession of Faith and Shorter Catechism, a copy of which was handed to the Very Rev. Principal Jack, who presided. The Report of the Experiment, prepared by their Committee, goes on to say, that "After being examined generally and satisfactorily on each of these heads, the chairman, by means of a list of the names with which he was furnished, called up some of them individually, who were carefully examined, and shewed, by their answers, that they severally understood the nature of the above doctrines, and their mutual relation to each other.

"They were then examined on the Old Testament History, from the account of the death of Moses, downwards, to that of the revolt of the Ten Tribes in the reign of Rehoboam. Here they distinctly stated and described all the leading circumstances of the narrative comprised in the 'First Step,' whose brief but comprehensive outline they appeared, in various instances, to have filled up at home, by reading in their Bibles the corresponding chapters. They were next examined in the same way, on several sections of the New Testament," with which they had also acquired an extensive practical knowledge, besides some useful information in Civil History, Biography, and Natural Philosophy, on all which they were closely and extensively examined.

In another experiment, undertaken at the request, and under the sanction, of the Sunday School Union of London, the efficiency of this exercise, as a successful imitation of Nature in communicating knowledge, was also satisfactorily ascertained. We shall at present advert only to one feature of it, as being more immediately connected with the present branch of our subject, that of communicating knowledge to the most ignorant and depraved.

The Report of this Experiment, drawn up by the Secretaries of that Institution, records, that "it had been requested, that, if possible, children should be procured, somewhat resembling the heathen, (or persons in a savage state,) whose intellectual and moral attainments were bounded only by their knowledge of natural objects, and whose feelings and obligations were of course regulated principally by coercion and fear of punishment."

Two gentlemen of the Committee, accordingly, undertook the search, and at last procured from the streets three children, a boy and two girls of the ages, so far as could be ascertained, (for they themselves could not tell,) of seven, nine, and eleven years, whom we shall designate G, H, and I. These children had no knowledge of letters; knew no more than the name of God, and that he was in the skies, but could not tell any thing about him, or what he had done. They knew not who made the sun, nor the world, nor themselves. They had no idea of a soul, or that they should live after death. One had a confused idea of the name of Jesus, as connected with prayers; which, however, she did not understand, but had never heard of Adam, Noah, or Abraham. When asked if they knew any thing of Moses, one on them (viz. I,) instantly recollected the name; but when examined, it was found that she only referred to a cant term usually bestowed upon the old-clothesmen of London. They had no idea of a Saviour; knew nothing of heaven or hell; had never heard of Christ, and knew not whether the name belonged to a man or a woman. The boy, (H,) when strictly interrogated on this point, and asked, whether he indeed knew nothing at all of Jesus Christ, thinking his veracity called in question, replied with much earnestness, and in a manner that showed the rude state of his mind, "No; upon my soul, I do not!"

This class, after eleven days' teaching, conducted in public, and in the presence of numbers of teachers, during one hour daily, were publicly examined in the Poultry Chapel, by a number of clergymen, before the Committee of the Sunday School Union, and a numerous congregation. The Report goes on to say, that the children of this class "were examined, minutely and individually, on the great leading doctrines of Christianity. The enumeration and illustrations of the several doctrines were given with a simplicity, and in a language, peculiarly their own; which clearly proved the value of that part of the Lesson System which enjoins the dealing with the ideas, rather than with the words; and which shewed, that they had acquired a clear knowledge of the several truths. They were also examined on some parts of the Old Testament History," with which, during that short period, they had been made thoroughly acquainted.

These facts of themselves, and they could be enlarged to almost any extent, clearly prove the power and the value of this exercise in communicating knowledge to the young. And, as we have seen that its efficiency consists entirely in its close imitation of the process of Nature in accomplishing the same object, we are the better warranted to press upon the minds of all who are interested in education and the art of teaching, the importance of keeping strictly to Nature, so far as we can trace her operations; as it is by doing so alone that we are sure of success. It may no doubt be said, that there are other ways of communicating knowledge to the young, besides the catechetical exercise; and therefore the necessity of adopting it is neither so necessary nor so urgent. To this it may be answered, that there have been other plans adopted, in urgent cases, for the nourishment of the body, besides the common mode of eating and digesting food; but all such plans are unnatural, and are of course but momentary and inadequate;—this, therefore, would form no argument for depriving children of their food. But even this argument is not parallel; for, although it has been found that partial nourishment may be conveyed to the blood otherwise than by the stomach, it has not yet been ascertained that any idea can enter the mind, except by this act of "reiteration." Unless, therefore, something definite can be brought forward, which will secure the performance of this act, different from the catechetical exercise, or the several modifications of it, that exercise ought to be considered as a necessary agent in every attempt of the teacher to communicate knowledge.

But this admission in a philosophical question is much more than is at all necessary for our present purpose. It is in every view of the case sufficient to shew, that knowledge cannot be imparted without voluntary active thought upon the ideas communicated, or what we have termed, "reiteration;"—and if this be once admitted, and if it can be shewn that the catechetical exercise produces this result more certainly, and more powerfully, than any other mode of instruction yet known, then nothing but prejudice will lead to the neglect of this, or will give the preference to another. And it is a remarkable fact, that on investigation it will be found, that almost every useful exercise introduced into schools within the last thirty years, owes its efficiency to the presence, more or less, of the principles which we have been explaining, as embodied in the catechetical exercise.[14]

FOOTNOTES:

CHAP. IV.

On the Means by which Nature may be imitated in Exercising the Principle of Individuation.

While it appears to be a law of Nature, that there can be no accumulation of knowledge without the act of reiteration, yet there are other principles which she brings into operation in connection with it, by which the amount of the various branches of knowledge received is greatly increased, and the knowledge itself more easily comprehended, and more permanently retained upon the memory.

The first of these principles, which we have before alluded to and described, is that of "individuation;" that principle by which an infant or child is induced to concentrate the powers of its mind upon a new object, and that to the exclusion for the time of every other, till it has become acquainted with it.

In a former chapter we found, that as long as a child remains solely under the guidance of Nature, it will not allow its attention to be distracted by different unknown objects at the same time; but whenever it selects one for examination, it invariably for the time abandons the consideration of every other. The consequence of this is, that infants, with all their physical and mental imbecility, acquire more real knowledge under the tuition of Nature in one year, than children who are double their age usually gain by the imperfect and unnatural exercises of unreformed schools in three or four. The cause of this is easily detected, and may be illustrated by the analogy of any one of the senses. The eye, for example, like the mind, must not only see the object, but it must look upon it—examine it—before the child can either become acquainted with it at the time, or remember it afterwards. But if unknown objects are made rapidly to flit past the eye of the child, so that this cannot be done before there is time to fix the attention upon any of them, the labour of the exhibitor is not only lost, but the sight of the child is impaired;—the eye itself is injured, and is less able, for some time afterwards, to look steadily upon any other object, even when that object is stationary. Such is the injury and the confusion created in the mind of a child when it is hurried forward from object to object, or from truth to truth, before the mind has had leisure to lay hold of them, or to concentrate its powers upon the ideas they suggest. The labour of the teacher in that case is not only lost, and the child harassed and irritated, but the powers of the mind, instead of being brightened and strengthened, are bewildered and mystified, and must therefore be weakened in a corresponding degree.

The method to be adopted therefore for the imitation of Nature in the working of this principle, will consist in bringing forward, for the consideration of the child, every new letter, or word, or truth, or object, by itself. When presented separately and alone, there is no distraction of mind—no confusion of ideas; the child is allowed to consider it well before learning it, so that he will know something of its form or its nature, and will remember it again when it is either presented to his notice alone, or when it is grouped with others. His idea of the object or truth may be indistinct and faint at first, but it is correct so far as it goes; and the ideas which he retains concerning it, are obviously much more extensive, than if the mind at its first presentation had been disturbed or bewildered by the addition of something else.

His idea of the object or the truth, after being repeatedly considered, may still be very inadequate, but it will now be distinct; and it is the want of this precision in the pupil's mind that so frequently deceives teachers, and confuses and obstructs the future advance of the scholars. When a child hears, or reads a passage, the teacher, who understands it himself, too often takes it for granted that the child as he proceeds is reiterating the ideas as well as himself, and is of course master of the subject. But this is not always the case; and wherever the child has not succeeded in doing so, all that follows in that lesson is usually to the child the cause of confusion and difficulty. He finds himself at a stand; and however far he may in these circumstances be dragged forward, he has not advanced a step, and he must at some future period,—and the sooner the better,—return again to the same point, and proceed anew under serious disadvantages.

In almost every stage of a child's education, the neglect of this principle is seriously and painfully felt. It is the cause of acute mental suffering to well affected and zealous pupils; and it is the chief origin of all the heartlessness, and idleness, and apathy, which are found to pervade and regulate the conduct of those that are less active. A careful appliance of this principle of individuation, therefore, is always of importance in education; but it ought never to be forgotten, that it is more peculiarly valuable and necessary at the commencement, than at any other period of a child's progress in learning. We shall advert to a few of the methods by which it may be applied in ordinary school education, in contrast with some instances in which it is neglected.

In teaching the alphabet to children, the principle of individuation is indispensable; and its neglect has been productive of serious and permanent mischief. A child of good capacity, by a proper attention to this principle, will, with pleasure and ease, learn the names and forms of the letters, with the labour of only a few hours;[15] while, by neglecting the principle, the same child would, after years of irritation and weariness, be still found ignorant of its alphabet. The overlooking of the principle at this period has done an immense deal of injury to the cause of education. It has, at the very starting post in the race of improvement, quenched and destroyed all the real, as well as the imaginary delights of learning and knowledge. It has given the tyro such an erroneous but overwhelming impression of the difficulties and miseries which he must endure in his future advance, that the disgust then created has often so interwoven itself with his every feeling, that education has during life appeared to him the natural and necessary enemy to every kind of enjoyment.

It used to be common, and the practice may still we believe be found lingering among some of the lovers of antiquity, to make a child commence at the letter A, and proceed along the alphabet without stopping till he arrived at Z; and this lesson not unfrequently included both the alphabets of capitals and small letters. Now the cruelty of such an exercise with a child will at once be apparent, if we shall only change its form. If a teacher were to read over to an infant twice a-day a whole page or paragraph without stopping of Cæsar or Cicero in Latin, and demand that on hearing it he shall learn it, we could at once judge of the difficulty, and the feelings of a volatile mind chained to the constant and daily repetition of such a task; and if this exercise were termed its "education," we can easily conceive the amount of affection that the child would learn to cherish towards it. Now this is really no exaggerated illustration of the matter in hand, for in both cases the principle of individuation, so carefully guarded and enforced by Nature, is equally outraged; and it is only where, by some means or other, a remedy for the evil accidentally occurs, that the result in the case of the alphabet, is not exactly the same as it would have been in the case of the classics above supposed. The writer once saw in a Sunday school, where the children were taught twice each Sabbath, a class in which some of the children had attended for upwards of two years, and were still in their alphabet; and if the same mode had been pursued, there is little doubt that they would have been in it yet.

The remedy for this evil is obvious. Instead of confounding the eye and the mind of the child, by rapidly parading twenty-six, or fifty-four forms, continuously and without intermission before the pupil, the letters ought to be presented to the child singly, or at most by two at a time; and these two should be rendered familiar, both in name and in form, before another character is introduced. When a few of the more conspicuous letters have become familiar, another is to be brought forward, and the child may be made to amuse himself, by picking out from a page of a book, all the letters he has learned, naming them, and if necessary describing them to a companion or a sub-monitor as they occur. Or he may be set down by himself, with a waste leaf from an old book, or pamphlet, or newspaper, to prick with a pin the new letter or letters last taught him; or, as an introduction to his writing, he may be made to score them gently with ink from a fine tipped pen. In these exercises, and all others which are in their nature similar, the principle of individuation is acknowledged and acted upon; and therefore it is, that a child will, by their means, acquire an acquaintance with the letters in an exceedingly short time, and, which is of still greater importance, without irritation or trouble. These methods may sometimes be rendered yet more effective, by the teacher applying the catechetical exercise to this comparatively dry and rather forbidding part of a child's education. It proceeds upon the principle of describing each letter, and attaching its name to the description, such as "round o," "spectacle g," "top dotted i," &c. as in the "Classified Alphabet." The teacher has thus an opportunity of exercising the child's imagination, as well as its memory, and making a monotonous, and comparatively unintellectual exercise, one of considerable variety and amusement.