Chapter III: Part 3

§ 10. The pupils in the Jesuit colleges were of two kinds: 1st, those who were training for the Order, and had passed the Novitiate; 2nd, the externs, who were pupils merely. When the building was not filled by the first of these (the Scholastici, or _Nostri_, as they are called in the Jesuit writings), other pupils were taken in to board, who had to pay simply the cost of their living, and not even this unless they could well afford it. Instruction, as I said, was gratuitous to all. “Gratis receive, gratis give,” was the Society’s rule; so they would neither make any charge for instruction, nor accept any gift that was burdened with conditions.

§ 11. Faithful to the tradition of the Catholic Church, the Society did not estimate a man’s worth simply according to his birth and outward circumstances. The Constitutions expressly laid down that poverty and mean extraction were never to be any hindrance to a pupil’s admission; and Sacchini says: “Do not let any favouring of the higher classes interfere with the care of meaner pupils, since the birth of all is equal in Adam, and the inheritance in Christ.”[19]

§ 12. The externs who could not be received into the building were boarded in licensed houses, which were always liable to an unexpected visit from the Prefect of Studies.

§ 13. The “lower school” was arranged in five classes (since increased to eight), of which the lowest usually had two divisions. Parallel classes were formed wherever the number of pupils was too great for five masters. The names given to the several divisions were as follows:

1. Infima }
2. Media } Classis Grammaticæ.
3. Suprema }
4. Humanitas.
5. Rhetorica.

Each was “absolved” in a year, except Rhetorica, which required two years (Stöckl, p. 237).

Jesuits and Protestants alike in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries thought of little but literary instruction, and that too connected only with Latin and Greek. The subject-matter of the teaching in the Jesuit schools was to be “præter Grammaticam, quod ad Rhetoricam, Poësim et Historiam pertinet,” in addition to Grammar, whatever related to Rhetoric, Poetry, and History. Reading and writing the mother-tongue might not be taught without special leave from the Provincial. Latin was as much as possible to supersede all other languages, even in speaking; and nothing else might be used by the pupils in the higher forms on any day but a holiday.[20] To gain a supply of Latin words for ordinary use, the pupils committed to memory Latin conversations on general topics, such as Francis Pomey’s “Indiculus Universalis” and “Colloquia Scholastica.”

§ 14. Although many good school-books were written by the Jesuits, a great part of their teaching was given orally. The master was, in fact, a lecturer, who expounded sometimes a piece of a Latin or Greek author, sometimes the rules of grammar. The pupils were required to get up the substance of these lectures, and to learn the grammar-rules and parts of the classical authors by heart. The master for his part had to bestow great pains on the preparation of his lectures.[21]

§ 15. Written exercises, translations, &c., were given in on every day, except Saturday; and the master had, if possible, to go over each one with its writer and his appointed rival or _æmulus_.

§ 16. The method of hearing the rules, &c., committed to memory was this:—Certain boys in each class, who were called Decurions, repeated their tasks to the master, and then in his presence heard the other boys repeat theirs. The master meanwhile corrected the written exercises.[22]

§ 17. One of the leading peculiarities in the Jesuits’ system was the pains they took to foster emulation—“cotem ingenii puerilis, calcar industriæ—the whetstone of talent, the spur of industry.” For this purpose all the boys in the lower part of the school were arranged in pairs, each pair being rivals (_æmuli_) to one another. Every boy was to be constantly on the watch to catch his rival tripping, and was immediately to correct him. Besides this individual rivalry, every class was divided into two hostile camps, called Rome and Carthage, which had frequent pitched battles of questions on set subjects. These were the “Concertations,” in which the boys sometimes had to put questions to the opposite camp, sometimes to expose erroneous answers when the questions were asked by the master[23] (see Appendix: Class Matches, p. 529). Emulation, indeed, was encouraged to a point where, as it seems to me, it must have endangered the good feeling of the boys among themselves. Jouvency mentions a practice of appointing mock defenders of any particularly bad exercise, who should make the author of it ridiculous by their excuses; and any boy whose work was very discreditable, was placed on a form by himself, with a daily punishment, until he could show that some one deserved to change places with him.

§ 18. In the higher classes a better kind of rivalry was cultivated by means of “Academies,” _i.e._, voluntary associations for study, which met together, under the superintendence of a master, to read themes, translations, &c., and to discuss passages from the classics. The new members were elected by the old, and to be thus elected was a much-coveted distinction. In these Academies the cleverer students got practice for the disputations, which formed an important part of the school work of the higher classes.

§ 19. There was a vast number of other expedients by which the Jesuits sought to work on their pupils’ _amour propre_, such as, on the one hand, the weekly publication of offences _per præconem_, and, on the other, besides prizes (which could be won only by the externs), titles and badges of honour, and the like. “There are,” says Jouvency, “hundreds of expedients of this sort, all tending to sharpen the boys’ wits, to lighten the labour of the master, and to free him from the invidious and troublesome necessity of punishing.”

§ 20. The school-hours were remarkably short: two hours and a half in the morning, and the same in the afternoon; with a whole holiday a week in summer, and a half holiday in winter. The time was spent in the first form after the following manner:—During the first half-hour the master corrected the exercises of the previous day, while the Decurions heard the lesson which had been learnt by heart. Then the master heard the piece of Latin which he had explained on the previous day. With this construing, was connected a great deal of parsing, conjugating, declining, &c. The teacher then explained the piece for the following day, which, in this form, was never to exceed four lines. The last half-hour of the morning was spent in explaining grammar. This was done very slowly and carefully: in the words of the _Ratio Studd._: “Pluribus diebus fere singula præcepta inculcanda sunt”—“Generally take a single rule and drive it in, several days.” For the first hour of the afternoon the master corrected exercises, and the boys learnt grammar. If there was time, the master put questions about the grammar he had explained in the morning. The second hour was taken up with more explanations of grammar, and the school closed with half an hour’s concertation, or the master corrected the notes which the pupils had taken during the day. In the other forms, the work was very similar to this, except that Greek was added, and also in the higher classes a little mathematics.

§ 21. It will be observed from the above account, that almost all the strength of the Jesuit teaching was thrown into the study of the Latin language, which was to be used, not only for reading, but also in writing and speaking. But under the name of “erudition” some amount of instruction in other subjects, especially in history and geography, was given in explaining, or rather lecturing on, the classical authors. Jouvency says that this lecture must consist of the following parts:—1st, the general meaning of the whole passage; 2nd, the explanation of each clause, both as to the meaning and construction; 3rd, any information, such as accounts of historical events, or of ancient manners and customs, which could be connected with the text; 4th, in the higher forms, applications of the rules of rhetoric and poetry; 5th, an examination of the Latinity; 6th, the inculcation of some moral lesson. This treatment of a subject he illustrates by examples. Among these is an account of a lesson for the first (_i.e._, lowest) class in the Fable of the Fox and the Mask:—1st, comes the argument and the explanation of words; 2nd, the grammar and parsing, as _vulpes_, a substantive of the third declension, &c., like _proles_, _clades_, &c. (here the master is always to give among his examples some which the boys already know); 3rd, comes the _eruditio_—something about foxes, about tragedy, about the brain, and hence about other parts of the head; 4th, Latinity, the order of the words, choice of the words, synonyms, &c. Then the sentences may be parodied; other suitable substantives may be found for the adjectives and _vice versâ_; and every method is to be adopted of showing the boys how to _use_ the words they have learnt. Lastly, comes the moral.

§ 22. The practical teacher will be tempted to ask, How is the attention of the class to be kept up whilst all this information is given? This the Jesuits did partly by punishing the inattentive. Every boy was subsequently required to reproduce what the teacher had said, and to show his written notes of it. But no doubt this matter of attention was found a difficulty. Jouvency tells the teachers to break off from time to time in their lectures, and to ask questions; and he adds: “Variæ sunt artes excitandæ attentionis quas docebit usus et sua cuique industria suggeret.—Very various are the devices for arousing attention. These will occur with practice and pains.”

For private study, besides written exercises and learning by heart, the pupils were recommended subjects to get up in their own time; and in this, and also as to the length of some of the regular lessons, they were permitted to decide for themselves. Here, as everywhere, the Jesuits trusted to the sense of honour and emulation—those who did extra work were praised and rewarded.

§ 23. One of the maxims of this system was: “Repetitio mater studiorum.” Every lesson was connected with two repetitions—one before it began, of preceding work, and the other at the close, of the work just done. Besides this, one day a week was devoted entirely to repetition. In the three lowest classes the desire of laying a solid foundation even led to the second six months in the year being given to again going over the work of the first six months.[24] By this means boys of extraordinary ability could pass through these forms in eighteen months, instead of three years.

§ 23. _Thoroughness_ in work was the one thing insisted on. Sacchini says that much time should be spent in going over the more important things, which are “veluti multorum fontes et capita (as it were the sources and starting points of many others)”; and that the master should prefer to teach a few things perfectly, to giving indistinct impressions of many things.[25] We should remember, however, that the pupils of the Jesuits were not _children_. Subjects such as grammar cannot, by any expenditure of time and trouble, be perfectly taught to children, because children cannot perfectly understand them; so that the Jesuit thoroughness is not always attainable.

§ 24. The usual duration of the course in the lower schools was six years—_i.e._, one year in each of the four lower classes, and two years in the highest class. Every year closed with a very formal examination. Before this examination took place, the pupils had lessons in the manner of it, so that they might come prepared, not only with a knowledge of the subjects, but also of the laws of writing for examination (“scribendi ad examen leges”). The examination was conducted by a commission appointed for the purpose, of which commission the Prefect of Studies was an _ex officio_ member. The masters of the classes, though they were present, and could make remarks, were not of the examining body. For the _vivâ voce_ the boys were ushered in, three at a time, before the solemn conclave. The results of the examination, both written and verbal, were joined with the records of the work done in the past year; and the names of those pupils who had distinguished themselves were then published in order of merit, but the poll was arranged alphabetically, or according to birthplace.

§ 25. As might be expected, the Jesuits were to be very careful of the moral and religious training of their pupils. “Quam maxime in vitæ probitate ac bonis artibus doctrinaque proficiant ad Dei gloriam.” (_Ratio Studd._, quoted by Schmid.) And Sacchini tells the master to remember how honourable his office is; as it has to do, not with grammar only, but also with the science and practice of a Christian and religious life: “atque eo quidem ordine ut ipsa ingenii eruditio sit expolitio morum, et humana literatura divinæ ancilletur sapientiæ.”[26]

Each lesson was to begin with prayer or the sign of the Cross. The pupils were to hear Mass every morning, and were to be urged to frequent confession and receiving of the Holy Communion. The Father Confessor was always a Jesuit, but he was not a master in the school.

§ 26. The bodily health also was to be carefully attended to. The pupils were not to study too much or too long at a time. Nothing was to be done for a space of from one or two hours after dinner. On holidays excursions were made to farms in the country.[27]

§ 27. Punishments were to be as light as possible, and the master was to shut his eyes to offences whenever he thought he might do so with safety. Grave offences were to be visited with corporal punishment, performed by a “corrector,” who was not a member of the Order. Where this chastisement did not have a good effect, the pupil was to be expelled.[28]

§ 28. The dry details into which I have been drawn by faithfully copying the manner of the _Ratio Studiorum_ may seem to the reader to afford no answer to the question which naturally suggests itself—To what did the school-system of the Jesuits owe its enormous popularity? But in part, at least, these details do afford an answer. They show us that the Jesuits were intensely practical. The _Ratio Studiorum_ hardly contains a single principle; but what it does is this—it points out a perfectly attainable goal, and carefully defines the road by which that goal is to be approached. For each class was prescribed not only the work to be done, but also the end to be kept in view. Thus method reigned throughout—perhaps not the best method, as the object to be attained was assuredly not the highest object—but the method, such as it was, was applied with undeviating exactness. In this particular the Jesuit schools contrasted strongly with their rivals of old, as indeed with the ordinary school of the present day. The Head Master, who is to the modern English school what the General, Provincial, Rector, Prefect of Studies, and _Ratio Studiorum_ combined were to a school of the Jesuits, has perhaps no standard in view up to which the boy should have been brought when his school course is completed.[29] The masters of forms teach just those portion of their subject in which they themselves are interested, in any way that occurs to them, with by no means uniform success; so that when two forms are examined with the same examination paper, it is no very uncommon occurrence for the lower to be found superior to the higher. It is, perhaps, to be expected that a course in which uniform method tends to a definite goal would on the whole be more successful than one in which a boy has to accustom himself by turns to half-a-dozen different methods, invented at haphazard by individual masters with different aims in view, if indeed they have any aim at all.

§ 29. I have said that the object which the Jesuits proposed in their teaching was not the highest object. They did not aim at developing _all_ the faculties of their pupils, but mainly the receptive and reproductive faculties. When the young man had acquired a thorough mastery of the Latin language for all purposes, when he was well versed in the theological and philosophical opinions of his preceptors, when he was skilful in dispute, and could make a brilliant display from the resources of a well-stored memory, he had reached the highest point to which the Jesuits sought to lead him.[30] Originality and independence of mind, love of truth for its own sake, the power of reflecting, and of forming correct judgments were not merely neglected—they were suppressed in the Jesuits’ system. But in what they attempted they were eminently successful, and their success went a long way towards securing their popularity.[31]

§ 30. Their popularity was due, moreover, to the means employed, as well as to the result attained. The Jesuit teachers were to _lead_, not drive their pupils, to make their learning, not merely endurable, but even acceptable, “disciplinam non modo tolerabilem, sed etiam amabilem.” Sacchini expresses himself very forcibly on this subject. “It is,” says he, “the unvarying decision of wise men, whether in ancient or modern times, that the instruction of youth will be always best when it is pleasantest: whence this application of the word _ludus_. The tenderness of youth requires of us that we should not overstrain it, its innocence that we should abstain from harshness.... That which enters into willing ears the mind as it were runs to welcome, seizes with avidity, carefully stows away, and faithfully preserves.”[32] The pupils were therefore to be encouraged in every way to take kindly to their learning. With this end in view (and no doubt other objects also), the masters were carefully to seek the boys’ affections. “When pupils love the master,” says Sacchini, “they will soon love his teaching. Let him, therefore, show an interest in everything that concerns them and not merely in their studies. Let him rejoice with those that rejoice, and not disdain to weep with those that weep. After the example of the Apostle let him become a little one amongst little ones, that he may make them adult in Christ, and Christ adult in them ... Let him unite the grave kindness and authority of a father with a mother’s tenderness.”[33]

§ 31. In order that learning might be pleasant to the pupils, it was necessary that they should not be overtasked. To avoid this, the master had to study the character and capacity of each boy in his class, and to keep a book with all particulars about him, and marks from one to six indicating proficiency. Thus the master formed an estimate of what should be required, and the amount varied considerably with the pupil, though the quality of the work was always to be good.

§ 32. Not only was the work not to be excessive, it was never to be of great difficulty. Even the grammar was to be made as easy and attractive as possible. “I think it a mistake” says Sacchini, “to introduce at an early stage the more thorny difficulties of grammar: ... for when the pupils have become familiar with the earlier parts, use will, by degrees, make the more difficult clear to them. His mind expanding and his judgment ripening as he grows older the pupil will often see for himself that which he could hardly be made to see by others. Moreover, in reading an author, examples of grammatical difficulties will be more easily observed in connection with the context, and will make more impression on the mind, than if they are taught in an abstract form by themselves. Let them then, be carefully explained whenever they occur.”[34]

§ 33. Perhaps no body of men in Europe (the Thugs may, in this respect, rival them in Asia) have been so hated as the Jesuits. I once heard Frederick Denison Maurice say he thought Kingsley could find good in every one except the Jesuits, and, he added, he thought _he_ could find good even in them. But why should a devoted Christian find a difficulty in seeing good in the Jesuits, a body of men whose devotion to their idea of Christian duty has never been surpassed?[35] The difficulty arose from differences in ideal. Both held that the ideal Christian would do everything “to the greater glory of God,” or as the Jesuits put it in their business-like fashion, “A.M.D.G.,” (_i.e._, _ad majorem Dei gloriam_). But Maurice and Kingsley thought of a divine idea for every man. The Jesuits’ idea lost sight of the individual. Like their enemy, Carlyle, the Jesuits in effect worshipped strength, but Carlyle thought of the strength of the individual, the Jesuits of the strength of “the Catholic Church.” “The Catholic Church” was to them the manifested kingdom of God. Everything therefore that gave power to the Church tended “A.M.D.G.” The Company of Jesus was the regular army of the Church, so, arguing logically from their premises, they made the glory of God and the success of the Society convertible terms.

§ 34. Thus their conception was a purely military conception. A commander-in-chief, if he were an ardent patriot and a great general, would do all he could to make the army powerful. He would care much for the health, morals, and training of the soldiers, but always with direct reference to the army. He would attend to everything that made a man a better soldier; beyond this he would not concern himself. In his eyes the army would be everything, and a soldier nothing but a part of it, just as a link is only a part of a chain. Paulsen, speaking of the Jesuits, says truly that no great organization can exist without a root idea. The root idea of the army is the sacrifice and annihilation of the individual, that the body may be fused together and so gain a strength greater than that of any number of individuals. Formed on this idea the army acts all together and in obedience to a single will, and no mob can stand its charge. Ignatius Loyola and succeeding Generals took up this idea and formed an army for the Church, an army that became the wonder and the terror of all men. Never, as Compayré says, had a body been so sagaciously organized, or had wielded so great resources for good and for evil.[36] (_See_ Buisson, ij, 1419.)

§ 35. To the English schoolmaster the Jesuits must always be interesting, if for no other reason at least for this—that they were so intensely practical. “_Les Jésuites ne sont pas des pédagogues assez desintéressés pour nous plaire._—The Jesuits as schoolmasters,” says M. Compayré, “are not disinterested enough for us.” (Buisson, sub v. _Jésuites_, ad f.). But disinterested pedagogy is not much to the mind of the Englishman. It does not seem to know quite what it would be after, and deals in generalities, such as “Education is not a means but an end;” and the end being somewhat indefinite, the means are still more wanting in precision. This vagueness is what the English master hates. He prefers not to trouble himself about the end. The wisdom of his ancestors has settled that, and he can direct his attention to what really interests him—the practical details. In this he resembles the Jesuits. The end has been settled for them by their founder. They revel in practical details, in which they are truly great, and here we may learn much from them. “_Ratio_ applied to studies” says Father Eyre,[37] “more naturally means _Method_ than _Principle_; and our _Ratio Studiorum_ is essentially a Method or System of teaching and learning.” Here is a method that has been worked uniformly and with singular success for three centuries, and can still give a good account of its old rivals. But will it hold its own against the late Reformers? As regards intellectual training the new school seeks to draw out the faculties of the young mind by employing them on subjects in which it is _interested_. The Jesuits fixed a course of study which, as they frankly recognized, could not be made interesting. So they endeavoured to secure accuracy by constant repetition, and relied for industry on two motive powers: 1st, the personal influence of the master; and, 2nd, “the spur of industry”—emulation.

§ 36. To acquire “influence” has ever been the main object of the Society, and his devotion to this object makes a great distinction between the Jesuit and most other instructors. His notion of the task was thus expressed by Father Gerard, S. J., at the Educational Conference of 1884: “Teaching is an art amongst arts. To be worthy of the name it must be the work of an individual upon individuals. The true teacher must understand, appreciate, and sympathize with those who are committed to him. He must be daily discovering what there is (and undoubtedly there is something in each of them) capable of fruitful development, and contriving how better to get at them and to evoke whatever possibilities there are in them for good.” The Jesuit master, then, tried to gain influence over the boys and to use that influence for many purposes; to make them work well being one of these, but not perhaps the most important.

§ 37. As for emulation, no instructors have used it so elaborately as the Jesuits. In most English schools the prizes have no effect whatever except on the first three or four boys, and the marking is so arranged that those who take the lead in the first few lessons can keep their position without much effort. This clumsy system would not suit the Jesuits. They often for prize-giving divide a class into a number of small groups, the boys in each group being approximately equal, and a prize is offered for each group. The class matches, too, stimulate the weaker pupils even more than the strong.

§ 38. In conclusion, I will give the chief points of the system in the words of one of its advocates and admirers, who was himself educated at Stonyhurst:

“Let us now try to put together the various pieces of this school machinery and study the effect. We have seen that the boys have masters entirely at their disposition, not only at class time, but at recreation time after supper in the night Reading Rooms. Each day they record victory or defeat in the recurring exercises or themes upon various matters. By the quarterly papers or examinations in composition, for which nine hours are assigned, the order of merit is fixed, and this order entails many little privileges and precedencies, in chapel, refectory, class room, and elsewhere. Each master, if he prove a success and his health permit, continues to be the instructor of the boys in his class during the space of six years. ‘It is obvious’ says Sheil, in his account of Stonyhurst, ‘that much of a boy’s acquirements, and a good deal of the character of his taste, must have depended upon the individual to whose instructions he was thus almost exclusively confined.’ And in many cases the effects must be a greater interest felt in the students by their teachers, a mutual attachment founded on long acquaintance, and a more thorough knowledge, on the part of the master, of the weak and strong points of his pupils. Add to the above, the ‘rival’ and ‘side’ system, the effect of challenges and class combats; of the wearing of decorations and medals by the Imperators on Sundays, Festival Days, Concertation Days, and Examination Days; of the extraordinary work—done much more as _private_ than as _class_ work—helping to give individuality to the boy’s exertions, which might otherwise be merged in the routine work of the class; and the ‘free time’ given for improvement on wet evenings and after night prayers; add the Honours Matter; the Reports read before the Rector and all subordinate Superiors, the Professors, and whole body of Students; add the competition in each class and between the various classes, and even between the various colleges in England of the Society; and only one conclusion can be arrived at. It is a system which everyone is free to admire or think inferior to some other preferred by him; but it _is_ a system.” (_Stonyhurst College, Present and Past_, by A. Hewitson, 2nd edition, 1878, pp. 214, ff.)

§ 39. Yes, it _is_ a system, a system built up by the united efforts of many astute intellects and showing marvellous skill in selecting means to attain a clearly conceived end. There is then in the history of education little that should be more interesting or might be more instructive to the master of an English public school than the chapter about the Jesuits.[38]

V.

RABELAIS.

(1483-1553.)

§ 1. To great geniuses it is given to think themselves in a measure free from the ordinary notions of their time and often to anticipate the discoveries of a future age. In all literature there is perhaps hardly a more striking instance of this “detached” thinking than we find in Rabelais’ account of the education of Gargantua.

§ 2. We see in Rabelais an enthusiasm for learning and a tendency to verbal realism; that is, he turned to the old writers for instruction about _things_. So far he was a child of the Renascence. But in other respects he advanced far beyond it.

§ 3. After a scornful account of the ordinary school books and methods by which Gargantua “though he studied hard, did nevertheless profit nothing, but only grew thereby foolish, simple, dolted, and blockish,” Rabelais decides that “it were better for him to learn nothing at all than to be taught suchlike books under suchlike schoolmasters.” All this old lumber must be swept away, and in two years a youth may acquire a better judgment, a better manner, and more command of language than could ever have been obtained by the old method.

We are then introduced to the model pupil. The end of education has been declared to be _sapiens et eloquens pietas_; and we find that though Rabelais might have substituted knowledge for piety, he did care for piety, and valued very highly both wisdom and eloquence. The eloquent Roman was the ideal of the Renascence, and Rabelais’ model pupil expresses himself “with gestures so proper, pronunciation so distinct, a voice so eloquent, language so well turned _and in such good Latin_ that he seemed rather a Gracchus, a Cicero, an Æmilius of the time past than a youth of the present age.”

§ 4. So a Renascence tutor is appointed for Gargantua and administers to him a potion that makes him forget all he has ever learned. He then puts him through a very different course. Like all wise instructors he first endeavours to secure the will of the pupil. He allows Gargantua to go the accustomed road till he can convince him it is the wrong one. This seems to me a remarkable proof of wisdom. How often does the “new master” break abruptly with the past, and raise the opposition of the pupil by dispraise of all he has already done! By degrees Ponocrates, the model tutor, inspired in his pupil a great desire for improvement. This he did by bringing him into the society of learned men, who filled him with ambition to be like them. Thereupon Gargantua “put himself into such a train of study that he lost not any hour in the day, but employed all his time in learning and honest knowledge.” The day was to begin at 4 a.m., with reading of “some chapter of the Holy Scripture, and oftentimes he gave himself to revere, adore, pray, and send up his supplications to that good God, whose word did show His majesty and marvellous judgments.” This is the only hint we get in this part of the book on the subject of religious or moral education: the training is directed to the intellect and the body.

§ 5. The remarkable feature in Rabelais’ curriculum is this, that it is concerned mainly with _things_. Of the Seven Liberal Arts of the Middle Ages, the first three were purely formal: grammar, logic, rhetoric; while the following course: arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music, were not. The effect of the Renascence was to cause increasing neglect of the Quadrivium, but Rabelais cares for the Quadrivium only; Gargantua studies arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music, and the Trivium is not mentioned. Great use is made of books and Gargantua learned them by heart; but all that he learned he at once “applied to practical cases concerning the estate of man.” It was the substance of the reading, not the form, that was thought of. At dinner “if they thought good they continued reading or began to discourse merrily together; speaking first of the virtue, propriety, efficacy, and nature of all that was served in at that table; of bread, of wine, of water, of salt, of flesh, fish, fruits, herbs, roots, and of their dressing. By means whereof he learned in a little time all the passages that on these subjects are to be found in Pliny, Athenæus, &c. Whilst they talked of these things, many times to be more certain they caused the very books to be brought to the table; and so well and perfectly did he in his memory retain the things above said, that in that time there was not a physician that knew half so much as he did.” Again, out of doors he was to observe trees and plants, and “compare them with what is written of them in the books of the ancients, such as Theophrastus, Dioscorides, &c.” Here again, actual realism was to be joined with verbal realism, for Gargantua was to carry home with him great handfuls for herborising. Rabelais even recommends studying the face of the heavens at night, and then observing the change that has taken place at 4 in the morning. So he seems to have been the first writer on education (and the first by a long interval), who would teach about things by observing the things themselves. It was this _Anschauungs-prinzip_—use of sense-impressions—that Pestalozzi extended and claimed as his invention two centuries and a half later. Rabelais also gives a hint of the use of hand-work as well as head-work. Gargantua and his fellows “did recreate themselves in bottling hay, in cleaving and sawing wood, and in threshing sheaves of corn in the barn. They also studied the art of painting or carving.” The course was further connected with life by visits to the various handicraftsmen, in whose workshops “they did learn and consider the industry and invention of the trader.”

Thus, even in the time of the Renascence, Rabelais saw that the life of the intellect might be nourished by many things besides books. But books were still kept in the highest place. Even on a holiday, which occurred on some fine and clear day once a month, “though spent without books or lecture, yet was the day not without profit; for in the meadows they repeated certain pleasant verses of Virgil’s _Agriculture_, of Hesiod, of Politian’s _Husbandry_.” They also turned Latin epigrams into French _rondeaux_.

This course of study, “although at first it seemed difficult, yet soon became so sweet, so easy, and so delightful, that it seemed rather the recreation of a king than the study of a scholar.”

In preferring the Quadrivial studies to the Trivial, and still more in his use of actual things, Rabelais separates himself from all the teachers of his time.

§ 6. Very remarkable too is the attention he pays to physical education. A day does not pass on which Gargantua does not gallantly exercise his body as he has already exercised his mind. The exercises prescribed are very various, and include running, jumping, swimming, with practice on the horizontal bar and with dumb-bells, &c. But in one respect Rabelais seems behind our own writer, Richard Mulcaster. Mulcaster trained the body simply with a view to health. Rabelais is thinking of the gentleman, and all his physical exercises are to prepare him for the gentleman’s occupation, war. The constant preparation for war had a strong and in some respects a very beneficial influence on the education of gentlemen in the fifteen and sixteen hundreds, as it has had on that of the Germans in the eighteen hundreds. But to be ready to slaughter one’s fellow creatures is not an ideal aim in education; and besides this, one half of the human race can never (as far as we can judge at present) be affected by it. We therefore prefer the physical training recommended by the Englishman.

Mr. Walter Besant by his _Readings in Rabelais_ (Blackwood,
1883), has put Rabelais’ wit and wisdom where we can get at
most of it without searching in the dung-hill. But he has
unfortunately omitted Gargantua’s letter to Pantagruel at Paris
(book ij, chap. 8), where we get the curriculum as proposed by
Rabelais, a chapter in which no scavenger is needed.

I will give some extracts from it:—

“Although my deceased father of happy memory, Grangousier, had
bent his best endeavours to make me profit in all perfection
and political knowledge, and that my labour and study was fully
correspondent to, yea, went beyond his desire; nevertheless,
the time then was not so proper and fit for learning as it is
at present, neither had I plenty of such good masters as thou
hast had; for that time was darksome, obscured with clouds of
ignorance and savouring a little of the infelicity and calamity
of the Goths, who had, wherever they set footing, destroyed all
good literature, which in my age hath by the Divine Goodness
been restored unto its former light and dignity, and that
with such amendment and increase of knowledge that now hardly
should I be admitted unto the first form of the little grammar
school boys (_des petits grimaulx_): I say, I, who in my
youthful days was (and that justly) reputed the most learned
of that age. Now it is that the old knowledges (_disciplines_)
are restored, the languages revived. Greek (without which
it is a shame for any one to call himself learned), Hebrew,
Chaldee, Latin. Printing (_Des impressions_) too, so elegant
and exact, is in use, which in my day was invented by divine
inspiration, as cannon were by suggestion of the devil. All the
world is full of men of knowledge, of very learned teachers,
of large libraries; so that it seems to me that neither in the
age of Plato, nor of Cicero, nor of Papinian was there such
convenience for studying as there is now. I see the robbers,
hangmen, adventurers, ostlers of to-day more learned then the
doctors and the preachers of my youth. Why, women and girls
have aspired to the heavenly manna of good learning ... I mean
you to learn the languages perfectly first of all, the Greek
as Quintilian wishes, then the Latin, then Hebrew for the
Scriptures, and Chaldee and Arabic at the same time; and that
thou form thy style in Greek on Plato, in Latin on Cicero. Let
there be no history which thou hast not ready in thy memory, in
which cosmography will aid thee. Of the Liberal Arts, geometry,
arithmetic, music, I have given thee a taste when thou wast
still a child, at the age of five or six [Pantagruel was a
giant, we must remember]; carry them on; and know’st thou all
the rules of astronomy? Don’t touch astrology for divination
and the art of Lullius, which are mere vanity. In the civil law
thou must know the five texts by heart.

“ ... As for knowledge of the works of Nature, I would have
thee devote thyself to them so that there may be no sea, river,
or spring of which thou knowest not the fishes; all the birds
of the air, all the trees, forest or orchard, all the herbs of
the field, all the metals hid in the bowels of the earth, all
the precious stones of the East and the South, let nothing be
unknown to thee.

“Then turn again with diligence to the books of the Greek
physicians, and the Arabs, and the Latin, without despising
the Talmudists and the Cabalists; and by frequent dissections
acquire a perfect knowledge of the other world, which is Man.
And some hours a-day begin to read the Sacred Writings, first
in Greek the New Testament and Epistles of the Apostles; then
in Hebrew the Old Testament. In brief, let me see thee an
abyss and bottomless pit of knowledge, for from henceforth as
thou growest great and becomest a man thou must part from this
tranquillity and rest of study ... And because, as Solomon
saith, wisdom entereth not into a malicious mind, and science
without conscience is but the ruin of the soul, thou shouldst
serve, love, and fear God, and in Him centre all thy thoughts,
all thy hope; and by faith rooted in charity be joined to Him,
so as never to be separated from Him by sin.”

The influence of Rabelais on Montaigne, Locke, and Rousseau has
been well traced by Dr. F. A. Arnstädt. (_François Rabelais_,
Leipzig, Barth, 1872.)

VI.

MONTAIGNE.

(1533-1592.)

§ 1. The learned ideal established by the Renascence was accepted by Rabelais, though he made some suggestions about _Realien_[39] that seem to us much in advance of it. When he quotes the saying “Magis magnos clericos non sunt magis magnos sapientes” (“the greatest clerks are not the greatest sages”), this singular piece of Latinity is appropriately put into the mouth of a monk, who represents everything the Renascence scholars despised. In Montaigne we strike into a new vein of thought, and we find that what the monk alleges in defence of his ignorance the cultured gentleman adopts as the expression of an important truth.

§ 2. We ordinary people see truths indeed, but we see them indistinctly, and are not completely guided by them. It is reserved for men of genius to see truths, some truths that is, often a very few, with intense clearness. Some of these men have no great talent for speech or writing, and they try to express the truths they see, not so much by books as by action. Such men in education were Comenius, Pestalozzi, and Froebel. But sometimes the man of genius has a great power over language, and then he finds for the truths he has seen, fitting expression, which becomes almost as lasting as the truths themselves. Such men were Montaigne and Rousseau. If the historian of education is asked “What did Montaigne do?” he will answer “Nothing.” “What did Froebel say?” “He said a great deal, but very few people can read him and still fewer understand him.” Both, however, are and must remain forces in education. Montaigne has given to some truths imperishable form in his _Essays_, and Froebel’s ideas come home to all the world in the Kindergarten.

§ 3. The ideal set up by the Renascence attached the highest importance to learning. Montaigne maintained that the resulting training _even at its best_ was not suited to a gentleman or man of action. Virtue, wisdom, and intellectual activity should be thought of before learning. Education should be first and foremost the development and exercise of faculties. And even if the acquirement of knowledge is thought of, Montaigne maintains that the pedants do not understand the first conditions of knowledge and give a semblance not the true thing.—“_Il ne faut pas attacher le savoir à l’âme, il faut l’incorporer._—Knowledge cannot be fastened on to the mind; it must become part and parcel of the mind itself.”[40]

Here then we have two separate counts against the Renascence education:

1st.—Knowledge is not the main thing.

2nd.—True knowledge is something very different from knowing by heart.

§ 4. It is a pity Montaigne’s utterances about education are to be found in English only in the complete translation of his essays. Seeing that a good many millions of people read English, and are most of them concerned in education, one may hope that some day the sayings of the shrewd old Frenchman may be offered them in a convenient form.

§ 5. Here are some of them: “The evil comes of the foolish way in which our [instructors] set to work; and on the plan on which we are taught no wonder if neither scholars nor masters become more able, whatever they may do in becoming more learned. In truth the trouble and expense of our fathers are directed only to furnish our heads with knowledge: not a word of judgment or virtue. Cry out to our people about a passer-by, ‘There’s a learned man!’ and about another ‘There’s a good man!’ they will be all agog after the learned man, and will not look at the good man. One might fairly raise a third cry: ‘There’s a set of numskulls!’ We are ready enough to ask ‘Does he know Greek or know Latin? Does he write verse or write prose?’ But whether he has become wiser or better should be the first question, and that is always the last. We ought to find out, not who knows _most_ but who knows _best_.” (I, chap. 24, _Du Pédantisme_, page or two beyond _Odi homines_.)

§ 6. The true educators, according to Montaigne, were the Spartans, who despised literature, and cared only for character and action. At Athens they thought about words, at Sparta about things. At Athens boys learnt to speak well, at Sparta to do well: at Athens to escape from sophistical arguments, and to face all attempts to deceive them; at Sparta to escape from the allurements of pleasure, and to face the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, even death itself. In the one system there was constant exercise of the tongue, in the other of the soul. “So it is not strange that when Antipater demanded of the Spartans fifty children as hostages they replied they would sooner give twice as many grown men, such store did they set by their country’s training.” (_Du Pédantisme_, ad f.)

§ 7. It is odd to find a man of the fifteen hundreds who quotes from the old authors at every turn, and yet maintains that “we lean so much on the arm of other people that we lose our own strength.” The thing a boy should learn is not what the old authors say, but “what he himself ought to do when he becomes a man.” Wisdom, not knowledge! “We may become learned from the learning of others; wise we can never be except by our own wisdom.” (Bk. j, chap. 24).

§ 8. So entirely was Montaigne detached from the thought of the Renascence that he scoffs at his own learning, and declares that true learning has for its subject, not the past or the future, but the present. “We are truly learned from knowing the present, not from knowing the past any more than the future.” And yet “we toil only to stuff the memory and leave the conscience and the understanding void. And like birds who fly abroad to forage for grain bring it home in their beak, without tasting it themselves, to feed their young, so our pedants go picking knowledge here and there out of several authors, and hold it at their tongue’s end, only to spit it out and distribute it amongst their pupils.” (_Du Pédantisme._) “We are all richer than we think, but they drill us in borrowing and begging, and lead us to make more use of other people’s goods than of our own.”[41] (Bk. iij, chap. 12, _De la Physionomie_, beg. of 3rd paragraph).

§ 9. So far Montaigne. What do we schoolmasters say to all this? If we would be quite candid I think we must allow that, after reading Montaigne’s essay, we put it down with the conviction that in the main he was right, and that he had proved the error and absurdity of a vast deal that goes on in the schoolroom. But from this first view we have had on reflection to make several drawbacks.

§ 10. Montaigne, like Locke and Rousseau, who followed in his steps, arranges for every boy to have a tutor entirely devoted to him. We may question whether this method of bringing up children is desirable, and we may assert, without question, that in most cases it is impossible. It seems ordained that at every stage of life we should require the companionship of those of our own age. If we take two beings as little alike as a man and a child and force them to be each other’s companions, so great is the difference in their thoughts and interests that they will fall into inevitable boredom and restraint. So we see that this plan, even in the few cases in which it would be possible, would not be desirable; and for the great majority of boys it would be out of the question. We must then arrange for the young to be taught, not as individuals, but in classes, and this greatly changes the conditions of the problem. One of the first conditions is this, that we have to employ each class regularly and uniformly for some hours every day. Schoolmasters know what their non-scholastic mentors forget: we can make a class learn, but, broadly speaking, we cannot make a class think, still less can we make it judge. As a great deal of occupation has to be provided, we are therefore forced to make our pupils learn. Whatever may be the value of the learning in itself it is absolutely necessary _as employment_.

§ 11. No doubt it will make a vast difference whether we consider the learning mainly as employment, as a means of taking up time and preventing “sauntering,” as Locke boldly calls it, or whether we are chiefly anxious to secure some special results. The knowledge of the Latin and Greek languages and the Latin and Greek authors was a result so highly prized by the Renascence scholars that they insisted on a prodigious quantity of learning, not as employment, but simply as the means of acquiring this knowledge. As the knowledge got to be less esteemed the pressure was by degrees relaxed. In our public schools fifty or sixty years ago the learning was to some extent retained as employment, but there certainly was no pressure, and the majority of the boys never learnt the ancient languages. So the masters of that time had given up the Renascence enthusiasm for the classics, and on the negative side of his teaching had come to an agreement with Montaigne. Any one inclined to sarcasm might say that on the positive side they were still totally opposed to him, for _he_ thought virtue and judgment were the main things to be cared for, and _they_ did not care for these things at all. But this is not a fair statement. The one thing gained, or supposed to be gained, in the public schools was the art of living, and this art, though it does not demand heroic virtue, requires at least prudence and self-control. Montaigne’s system was a revolt against the _bookishness_ of the Renascence. “In our studies,” says he, “whatever presents itself before us is book enough; a roguish trick of a page, a blunder of a servant, a jest at table, are so many new subjects.” So the education _out of school_ was in his eyes of more value than the education in school. And this was acknowledged also in our public schools: “It is not the Latin and Greek they learn or don’t learn that we consider so important,” the masters used to say, “but it is the tone of the school and the discipline of the games.” But of late years this virtual agreement with Montaigne has been broken up. School work is no longer mere employment, but it is done under pressure, and with penalties if the tale of brick turned out does not pass the inspector.

§ 12. What has produced this great change? It is due mainly to two causes:

1. The pressure put on the young to attain classical knowledge was relaxed when it was thought that they could get through life very well without this knowledge. But in these days new knowledge has awakened a new enthusiasm. The knowledge of science promises such great advantages that the latest reformers, headed by Mr. Herbert Spencer, seem to make the well-being of the grown person depend mainly on the amount of scientific knowledge he stored up in his youth. This is the first cause of educational pressure.