Some thoughts concerning education

LIBRARY OF EDUCATION

// r^. //',<'/-/^/^uj -^^

LIBRARY OF EDUCATION

SOME THOUGHTS CONCERNING

EDUCATION;

BY JOHN LOCKE;

TREATISE OF EDUCATION;

BY JOHN MILTOX.
WITH AN"

APPENDIX
CONTAINING Locke's memoranda on study.

VOL. I.

BOSTON,

PUBLISHED BY GRAY & B O \V E X

18 3 0.

DISTRICT OF MASSACHUSETTS, to wit :

District Clerk's Office.

Be it remembered, That on the twenty-seventh day of November,
A. D. 1830, in the fifty-tifth year of the Independence of the United
States of America, Gray & Bowen, of the said district, have deposited
in this office the title of a book, the right whereof they claim as Proprie-
tors, in the words following, to wit :

The Library of Education. Some Thoughts concerning Education ;
by John Locke : and A Treatise of Education ; by John Milton. With
an Appendix containing Locke's Memoranda on Study.

In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, enti-
tled " An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies
of maps, charts and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies,
during the times therein mentioned :" and also to an act entitled " An
act supplementary to an act entitled, an act for the encouragement of
learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts and books to the authors
and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned ; and
extending the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and
etching historical and other prints. JXO. W. DAVIS,

Ckrk of the District of Massachusetts.

Boston :

Samuel N. Dickinson, Printer,

Washington Street.

PREFACE.

The present volume is intended to form one
of a series of standard treatises on the subject
of education. The work now commenced will,
it is hoped, prove a useful source of information
to parents and teachers ; furnishing to the latter
a sort of professional library, to which individu-
als may resort for assistance in the labours of
instruction, and offering to the former an aid to
the formation of just and extensive views of the
whole scope of education, as well as a prepara-
tion for cooperating with instructers, in their
exertions for the mental advancement of the
young.

A book adapted to the purposes of reference
and consultation, on topics connected with in-
struction, seems to be demanded by the present
state of the pubhc mind, in relation to the pro-

PREFACE.

fession of teaching, not less than the general
advancement of education. — Locke's " Thoughts
concerning Education" have been selected for
the chief part of the first volume in the contem-
plated series, not only as a production entitled
to peculiar attention on account of the just em-
inence of the writer, and his acknowledged au-
thority on whatever pertains to the study of the
human mind, but also as embracing a wide and
comprehensive survey of the whole field of edu-
cation, and prescribing an equal and natural
cultivation of all the faculties of man.

Mr. Locke's views on the subject of classical
instruction are open, perhaps, to controversy in
some points of detail. It was proposed, accord-
ingly, in the prospectus of the present work, to
omit a few passages relative to such particulars,
as involving unnecessary discussion, in a work
designed for general use. But it has been
thought preferable, on mature consideration, to
present the whole treatise, without reserve or
alteration, excepting a slight omission, on the
ground of delicacy ; this being the only course
which in republishing the work of such a writer,
would be just to his name and opinions, or to
the extensive subject on which he wrote.

PREFACE. Vll

Milton's treatise *' Of Education" has been
included in the present volume ; as the extent
of that piece was too limited to admit conve-
niently of its publication in a separate form,
and its subject seemed more in harmony with
the topics discussed by Mr. Locke, than with
the contents of any other volume in the intend-
ed series.

To prevent misapprehension in regard to the
views and intentions of the editor of the work
now ottered to the public, it may not be im-
proper, at the outset, to disclaim any design of
imparting a peculiar complexion or character to
the proposed Library, as respects either the
moral and religious sentiments of the authors
from whom it shall be compiled, or their per-
sonal opinions on matters of theory in education.r
The editor's sole aim is to ofter a succession of
volumes embodying those productions of eminent
writers, which, from their acknowledged value,
have become standard works on subjects con-
nected with the instruction of youth. Opinions
emanating from such sources it would be pre-
sumption to attempt to modify, in any other
way than by faithful selection ; and even this
expedient will be resorted to as seldom as pos-

Vlll PREFACE.

sible. The responsibility attached to the ex-
pression of pecuHar sentiments must, in all cases,
be considered as resting with the authors by
whom they are advanced.

An intelligent reader, at the present day,
cannot but observe, in both the essays which
compose this volume, several points of theory,
regarding, in particular, the moral influences of
education, which evidently owe their existence
to the times in which the writers lived. But
the liberty of rejecting or disregarding these it
seemed proper to leave to the judgment of in-
dividuals, after a perusal of the whole work of

each author.

WILLIAM RUSSELL.

Boston, Nov. 1830.

-5t

* The second volume of the Library, (in-
tended to be published in Spring,) will contain
lord Bacon's treatise. On the Advancement of

Learning.

GENERAL

TABLE OF CONTENTS

FOR

VOL. I.

Preface,

Life of Locke, 3

Analysis of Thoughts coxcbr.mxg Edicatiox, 25

Dedication- " '' '•' 29

Thoughts concerxi.vg Education", 33

Life of Milton, 261

Contents of Treatise of Education, 2C0

Treatise of Education, 271

Appendix, 289

General Index, 311

SOME THOUGHTS

CONCERNING EDUCATION.

BY JOHN LOCKE

LIFE OF JOHN LOCKE.*

John Locke, one of the greatest philosophers and
most valuable writers who have adorned this country-,
was born at Wrington in Somersetshire, on the twenty-
ninth of August, 1632, His father who had been bred
to the law, acted in the capacity of steward, or court-
keeper, to colonel Alexander Popham ; and, upon the
breaking out of the civil war, became a captain in the
sen'ice of the parliament. He was a gentleman of
strict probity and economy, and possessed of a handsome
fortime ; but, as it came much impaired into the hands
of his son, it was probably injured through the misfor-
tunes of the times. However, he took great pains in
his son's education ; and though while he was a child,
he behaved towards him with great distance and sever-
ity, yet as he grew up, he treated him with more fami-
liarity, till at length they lived together rather as friends,
than as two persons, one of whom might justly claim
respect from the other. When he was of a proper age,
young Locke was sent to Westminster school, where
he continued till the year 1651 ; when he was entered
a student of Christ-church-college, in the university of
Oxford. Here he so greatly distinguished himself by
his apphcation and proficiency, that he was considered
to be the most ingenious young man in the college.
But, though he gained such reputation in the univer-

* This account of the author's life is taken from the London
8vo. edition of his works, published in 1>23.
a2

4 LIFE OF LOCKE.

sity, he was afterwards often heard to complain of the
Httle satisfaction which he had found in the method of
study which had been prescribed to him, and of the
httle service which it had afforded him, in enlightening
and enlarging his mind, or in making him more exact
in his reasonings. For the only philosophy then taught
at Oxford was the Peripatetic, perplexed with obscure
terms, and encumbered with useless questions. The
first books which gave him a relish for the study of phi-
losophy, were the writings of Des Cartes ; for though
he did not approve of all his notions, yet he found that
he wrote with great perspicuity. Having taken his de-
gree of B. A. in 1655, and that of M. A. in 1658, Mr.
Locke for some time closely applied himself to the study
of physic, going through the usual courses preparatory
to the practice ; and it is said that he got son^e busi-
ness in that profession at Oxford. So great was the
delicacy of his constitution, however, that he was not
capable of a laborious application to the medical art;
and it is not improbable that his principal motive in
studying it was, that he might be qualified, when ne-
cessai-)', to act as his own physician. In the year 1664,
he accepted of an offer to go abroad, in the capacity of
secretary to sir William Swan, who was appointed en-
voy from king Charles II. to the elector of Branden-
burg, and some other German princes ; but returning
to England again within less than a year, he resumed
his studies at Oxford with renewed vigour, and applied
himself particularly to natural philosophy. While he
was at Oxford in 1666, an accident introduced him to
the acquaintance of lord Ashley, aftenvards earl of
Shaftesbury. That nobleman, having been advised to
drink the mineral waters at Astrop, for an abscess in
liis breast, wrote to Dr. Thomas, a physician in Ox-
ford, to procure a quantity of them to be in readiness
acainst his arrival. Dr. Thomas being obliged to be

LIFE OF LOCKE. 5

absent from home at that time, prevailed with his friend
Mr. Locke to execute this commission. But it happen-
ing that the waters were not ready on the day after lord
Ashley's arrival, through the fault of the person who
bad been sent for them, Mr. Locke found himself
obliged to wait on his lordship, to make excuses for the
disappoiiitment. Lord Ashley received him with his
usual politeness, and was satisfied with his apology.
Upon his rising to go away, his lordship, who had re-
ceived great pleasure from his conversation, detained
him to supper, and engaged him to dinner on the fol-
lowing day, and even to drink the waters, that he might
have the more of his company. When his lordship
left Oxford to go to Sunning-hill, he made 3[r. Locke
promise to visit him there ; as he did in the summer
of the year 1667. — Afterwards lord Ashley invited Mr.
Locke to his house, and prevailed on him to take up his
residence with him. Having now secured him as an
inmate, lord Ashley was governed entirely by his advice,
in submitting to have the abscess in his breast open-
ed; by which operation his life was saved, though the
wound was never closed. — The success which attended
this operation gave his lordship a high opinion of Mr.
Locke's medical skill, and contributed to increase his
attachment to him, notwithstanding that he regarded
this as the least of his qualifications. Sensible that his
great abilities were calculated to render him eminently
serviceable to the world in other departments of know-
ledge, he would not suflfer him to practise medicine out
of his house, excepting among some of his particular
friends; and he urged him to apply his studies to state
affairs, and political subjects, both ecclesiastical and
civil. Mr. Locke's inclination was not backward in
prompting him to comply with his lordshiT)'s wishes ;
and he succeeded so well in these studies, that lord
Ashley began to consult him upon all occasions.

6 LIFE OF LOCKE.

By his acquaintance with tliis nobleman, Mr. Locke
was introduced to the conversation of the duke of Buck-
ingham, the earl of Halifax, and other of the most em-
inent persons of that age, who were all charmed with
his conversation. The freedom which he would take
with men of that rank, had something in it very suita-
ble to his character. One day three or four of these
lords having met at lord Ashley's, when Mr. Locke was
present, after some compliments, cards were brought
in, before scarcely any conversation had passed between
them. Mr. Locke looked on for some time while they
were at play, and then, taking his pocket-book, began
to write with great attention. At length, one of them
had the curiosity to ask him what he was writing.
" My lord," said he, " I am endeavouring to profit, as far
as I am able, in your company ; for having waited with
impatience for the honour of being in an assembly of the
greatest geniuses of the age, and having at length ob-
tained this good fortune, I thought that I could not do
better than write down your conversation ; and, indeed,
I have set down the substance of what has been said
for this hour or two." Mr. Locke had no occasion to
read much of what he had written ; those noble persons
saw the ridicule, and diverted themselves with improv-
ing the jest. For, immediately quitting their play, they
entered into rational conversation, and spent the re-
mainder of the day in a manner more suitable to their
character. In the year 1668, at the request of the earl
and countess of Northumberland, Mr. Locke accompa-
nied them in a tour to France, and staid in that country
with the countess, while the earl went towards Italy,
with an intention of visiting Rome. But this noble-
man dying on his journey at Turin, the countess came
back to England, sooner than was at first designed, and
Mr. Locke with her, who continued to reside, as before,
at lord Ashley's. That nobleman who was then chan-

LIFE OF LOCKE. 7

cellor of the exchequer, having in conjunction with
other lords, obtained a grant of Carohna, employed
Mr. Locke to draw up the fundamental constitutions of
that province. In executing this task, our author had
formed articles relative to religion, and public worship,
on those hberal and enlarged principles of toleration,
which were agreeable to the sentiments of his enlight-
ened mind ; but some of the clergy, jealous of such
provisions as might prove an obstacle to their ascen-
dancy, expressed their disapprobation of them, and pro-
cured an additional article to be inserted, securing the
countenance and support of the state only to the exer-
cise of religion according to the discipline of the estab-
lished church. 3Ir. Locke still retained his student's
place at Christ-church, and made frequent visits to
Oxford, for the sake of consulting books in the prose-
cution of his studies, and for the benefit of change of
air. At lord Ashley's he inspected the education of
his lordship's only son, who was then about sixteen
years of age ; and executed that province with the
greatest care, and to the entire satisfaction of his noble
patron. As the young lord was but of a weakly consti-
tution, his father thought proper to marry him early,
lest the family should become extinct by his death.
And, since he was too young, and had too little experi-
ence to choose a wife for himself, and lord Ashley had
the highest opinion of Mr. Locke's judgment, as well
as the greatest confidence in his integrity, he desired
him to make a suitable choice for his son. This was
a ditficult and delicate task : for though lord Ashley
did not insist on a great fortune for his son, yet he
would have him marry a lady of a good family, an agree-
able temper, a fine person, and above all, of good edu-
cation and good understanding, whose conduct would
be very different from that of the generality of court
ladies. Notwithstanding the difficulties attending such

8 LIFE OF LOCKE.

a commission, Mr. Locke undertook it, and executed
it very liappily. The eldest son by tliis marriage, af-
terwards the noble author of the Characteristics, was
committed to the care of Mr. Locke in his education,
and gave evidence to the world of the master-hand
which had directed and guided his genius.

In 1670, and in the following year, Mr. Locke be-
gan to form the plan of his Essay on the Human Un-
derstanding, at the earnest request of some of his
friends, who were accustomed to meet in his chamber,
for the purpose of conversing on philosophical subjects;
but the employments and avocations which were found
for him by his patron, would not then suffer him to
make any great progress in that work. About this time,
it is supposed, he was made fellow of the Royal Socie-
ty. In 1672, lord Ashley, having been created earl of
Shaftesbury, and raised to the dignity of lord high
chancellor of England, appointed Mr. Locke secreta-
ry of the presentations ; but he held that place only
till the end of the following year, when the earl was
obliged to resign the great seal. His dismissal was fol-
lowed by that of Mr. Locke, to whom the earl had com-
municated his most secret affairs, and who contributed
towards the publication of some treatises, which were
intended to excite the nation to watch the conduct of
the Roman Catholics, and to oppose the arbitrary de-
signs of the couit. After this his lordship, who was
still president of the Board of Trade, appointed Mr.
Locke secretary to the same ; which office he retained
not long, the commission being dissolved in the year
1674. In the following year, he was admitted to the
degree of bachelor of physic : and it appears that he
continued to prosecute this study, and to keep u}) his
acquaintance with several of the faculty. In what
reputation he was iield by some of the most eminent
of them, we may judge from the testimonial that was

LIFE OF LOCKE. 9

given of him by the celebrated Dr. Sydenham, in his
book, entitled, Observationes Medicse circa Morborum
Acutorum Historiam et Curationem, &c. " You know
likewise," says he, " how much my method has been
approved of by a person who has examined it to the
bottom, and who is our common friend : I mean Mr.
John Locke, who if we consider his genius and pene-
trating and exact judgment, or the strictness of his
morals, has scarcely any superior, and few equals now
living." In the summer of 1675, Mr. Locke, being ap-
prehensive of a consumption, ti'avelled into France, and
resided for some lime at 3Iontpelier, where he became
acquainted with Mr. Thomas Herbert, afterwards earl
of Pembroke, to whom he communicated his design of
writing his Essay on Human Understanding. From
Montpelier he went to Paris, where he contracted a
friendship with M. Justel, the celebrated civilian, whose
house was at that time the place of resort for men of
letters ; and where a familiarity commenced between
him and several other ])ersons of eminent learning. In
1079, the carl of Shaftesbury being again restored to
favour at court, and made president of the council, sent
to request that Mr. Locke would return to England,
which he accordingly did. Within six months, howev-
er, that nobleman was again displaced, for refusing his
concurrence with the designs of the court, which aimed
at tlie establishment of popery and arbitrary power: and,
in 1G82, he was obliged to retire to Holland, to avoid a
prosecution for high treason, on account of pretended
crimes of which he was accused. Mr. Locke remained
steadily attached to his patron, following him into Hol-
land : and upon his lordship's death, which happened
soon afterwards, he did not think it safe to return to
England, where his intimate connexion with lord
Shaftesbur}' had created him some powerful and ma-
lignant enemies. Before he had been a year in Hoi-

10 LIFE OF LOCKE.

land, he was accused at the Eughsh court of behig the
author of certam tracts which had been pubhshed
against the government ; and, notwithstanding that an-
other person was soon afterwards discovered to be the
writer of them, yet as he was observed to join in com-
pany at the Hague with several Englishmen who were
the avowed enemies of the system of politics on which
the English court now acted, information of this cir-
cumstance was conveyed to the earl of Sunderland,
then secretary of state. This intelligence lord Sunder-
land communicated to the king, who immediately or-
dered that Bishop Fell, then dean of Christ-church,
should receive his express command to eject Mr. Locke
from his student's place, which the bishop executed
accordingly. After this violent procedure of the court
against him in England, he thought it prudent to re-
main in Holland, where he was at the accession of king
James H. Soon after that event, William Penn, the
famous quaker, who had known Mr. Locke at the uni-
versity, used his interest with the king to procure a
j)ardon for him ; and would have obtained it had not
Mr. Locke declined the acceptance of such an offer,
nobly observing, that he had no occasion for a pardon,
since he had not been guilty of any crime.

In the year 1685, when the duke of INIonmouth and
his party were making preparations in Holland for his
rash and unfortunate enterprise, the English envoy at the
Hague demanded that Mr. Locke, with several others,
should be delivered up to him, on suspicion of his being
engaged in that undertaking. And though this suspicion
was not only groundless, but without even a shadow of
probability, it obliged him to lie concealed nearly twelve
months, till it was sufficiently known that he had no con-
cern whatever in that business. Towards the latter end
of the year, 1686, iie appeared again in public ; and in
the following year formed a literary society at Araster-

LIFE OF LOCKE. H

dam, of which Limborch, Le Clerc, and other learned
men, were members, who met together weekly for con-
versation upon subjects of universal learning. About
the end of the year 1687, our author finished the com-
position of his great work, the Essay concerning Human
Understanding, which had been the principal object of
his attention for some years ; and that the public might
be apprised of the outlines of his plan, he made an
abridgment of it himself, which his friend Le Clerc
translated into French, and inserted in one of his
" Bibliotheques." This abridgment was so highly ap-
proved of by all thinking persons, and sincere lovers
of truth, that they expressed the strongest desire to see
the whole work. During the time of his concealment,
he wrote his first Letter concerning Toleration, in Latin,
which was first printed at Gouda, in 1689, under the title
of Epistola de Tolerantia, &lc. 12mo. This excellent
performance, which has ever since been held in the high-
est esteem by the best judges, was translated into Dutch
and French, in the same year, and was also printed in
English in 4to. Before this work made its appearance,
the happy Revolution in 1688, effected by the courage
and good conduct of the prince of Orange, opened the
way for Mr. Locke's return to his native country ;
whither he came in the fleet which conveyed the prin-
cess of Orange. After public liberty had been restored,
our author thought it proper to assert his own private
rights ; and therefore put in his claim to the student's
place in Christ-church, of which he had been unjustly
deprived. Finding, however, that the society resisted
his pretensions, on the plea that their proceedings had
been conformable to their statutes, and that they could
not be prevailed upon to dispossess the person who had
be^n elected in his room, he desisted from his claim.
It is true, that thej' made him an offer of being admit-
ted a supernumerary student; but, as his sole motive in

12 LIFE OF LOCKE.

endeavouring to procure his restoration was, that such
a measure might proclaim the injustice of the mandate
for his ejection, he did not think proper to accept it.
As Mr. Locke was justly considered to be a sufferer for
the principles of the Revolution, he might without much
difficulty have obtained some very considerable post-;
but he contented himself with that of commissioner of
appeals, worth about 200/. per annum. In July, 1689,
he wrote a letter to his friend Limborch, with whom he
frequently corresponded, in which he took occasion to
speak of the actof toleration, which had then just passed,
and at which he expressed his satisfaction ; though he at
the same time intimated, that he considered it to be de-
fective, and not sufficiently comprehensive. " I doubt
not," says he, " but you have already heard, that tolera-
tion is at length established among us by law ; not,
however, perhaps, with that latitude which you, and
such as you, true Christians, devoid of envy and ambi-
tion, would have wished. But it is somewhat to have
proceeded thus far. And I hope these beginnings are
the foundations of hberty and peace, which shall here-
after be established in the church of Christ."

About this time Mr. Locke liad an offi?r to go abroad
in a pubhc character ; and it was left to his choice
whether he would be envoy at the court of the emperor,
the elector of Brandenburg, or any other, where he
thought that the air would best agree with him ; but he
declined it on account of the intirm state of his health.
In the year 1690, he published his celebrated Essay
concerning Human Understanding, in folio : a work
which has made the author's name immortal, and does
honour to our country ; wliich an eminent and learned
writer has staled, " one of the noblest, the usefuUest, the
most original books the world ever saw." But, notwith-
standing its extraordinary merit, it gave great offence to
many people at the first })ublication, and was attacked by

LIFE OF LOCKE. 13

various writers, most of whose names are now forgotten.
It was even proposed, at a meeting of the heads of houses
of the university of Oxford, to censure and discourage
the reading of it ; and, after various debates among them-
selves, it was concluded, that each head of a iiouse
should endeavour to prevent it from being read in his
college. They were afraid of the light which it poured
in upon the minds of men. 15 ut all their cJEForts were in
vain; as were also the attacks of its various opponents
on the reputation either of the work or its author, which
continued daily to increase in every part of Europe. It
was translated into French and Latin ; and the fourth in
English, with alterations and additions, was printed in
the year 1700 : since which time it has past through a
vast number of editions. In the year 1(390, 3Ir. Locke
published his Two Treatises on Government, 8vo. —
Those valuable treatises, whieh are some of the best
extant on the subject, in any language, are employed in
refuting and overturning sir Robert Filmer's false prin-
ciples, and in pointing out the true origin, extent, and
end of civil government. About this time the coin of
the kingdom was in a very bad state, owing to its having
been so much clipped, that it wanted above a third of
the standard weight. The magnitude of this evil, and
the mischiefs which it threatened, having engaged the
serious consideration of pai-liament, Mr. Locke, with the
view of assisting those who were at the head of affairs
to form a right understanding of this matter, and to ex-
cite them to rectify such shameful abuse, printed Some
considerations of the Consequences of lowering the In-
terest, and raising the Value of Money, 1691, 8vo. Af-
terwards he published some other small pieces on the
same subject; by which he convinced the world, that
he was as able to reason on trade and business, as on
the most abstract parts of science. These writings oc-
casioned his being frequently consulted by the ministry,
relative to the new coinage of silver, and other topics.

14 LIFE OF LOCKE.

With the earl of Pembroke, then lord keeper of the
privy seal, he was for some time accustomed to hold
weekly conferences ; and when the air of London be-
gan to affect his lungs, he sometimes went to the earl of
Peterborough's seat, near Fulham, where he always met
with the most friendly reception. He was afterwards,
however, obliged to quit London entirely, at least dur^
ing the winter season, and to remove to some place at
a greater distance. He had frequently p»aid visits to
sir Francis Masham, at Oates, in Essex, about twenty
miles from London, where he tound that the air agreed
admirably well with his constitution, and where he also
enjoyed the most delightful society. We may imagine,
therefore, that he was persuaded without much diffi-
culty, to accept of an offer which sir Francis made to
give him apaitments in his house, where he might set-
tle during the remainder of his hfe. Here he was re-
ceived upon his own terms, that he might have his en-
tire liberty, and look upon himself as at his own house ;
and here he chiefly pursued his future studies, being
seldom absent, because tbe air of London grew more
and more troublesome to him.

In 1693, Mr. Locke pubhshed his Thoughts concern^
ing Education, 8vo. which he greatly improved in sub-
sequent editions. In 1695, king William, who knew
how to appreciate his abilities for serving the public,
appointed him one of the commissioners of trade and
plantations ; which obliged iiim to reside more in Lon-
don than he had done for some time past. In the same
year he published his excellent treatise, entitled The
Reasonableness of Christianity, as delivered in the
Scriptures, 8vo. which was written, it is said, in order
to promote the scheme which king William had so
much at heart, of a comprehension with the dissenters.

The asthmatic complaint, to which Mr. Locke had
been long subject, increasing with his years, began now
to subdue his constitution, and rendered him very infirm.

LIFE OF LOCKE. 15

He, therefore, determined to resign his post of commis-
sioner of trade and plantations ; but he acquainted none
of his friends with his design, till he had given up his
commission into the king's own hand. His majesty
was very unwilling to receive it, and told our author,
that he w^ould be well pleased with his continuance in
that office, though he should give little or no attendance ;
for that he did not desire him to stay in town one day
to the injury of his health. But 3Ir. Locke told the
king, that he could not in conscience hold a place to
which a considerable salar}' was annexed, without dis-
charging the duties of it ; upon which the king reluc-
tantly accepted his resignation. Mr. Locke's behaviour
in this instance discovered such a degree of integrity
and virtue, as reflects more honour on his character
than his extraordinary intellectual endowments. His
majesty entertained a great esteem for him, and would
sometimes desire his attendance, in order to consult
with him on public affiiirs, and to know his sentiments
of things. From this time Mr. Locke continued alto-
gether at Gates, in which agreeable retirement he ap-
plied himself wholly to the study of the sacred Scrip-
tures. In this employment he found so much pleas-
ure, that he regretted his not having devoted more of
his time to it in the former part of his hfe. And his
great regard for the sacred writings appears from his
answer to a relation who had inquired of him what
was the shortest and surest way for a young gentleman
to attain a true knowledge of the Christian religion ?
"Let him study," said Mr. Locke, "the holy Scripture,
especially in the New Testament. Therein are con-
tained the words of eternal life. It has God for its au-
thor ; salvation for its end ; and truth, without any
mixture of error, for its matter." Mr, Locke now found
his asthmatic disorder growing extremely troublesome,
though it did not prevent him from enjoying great

It) LIFE OF LOCKE.

cheerfulness of mind. In this situation iiis sufferings
were greatly alleviated hy the kind attention and agree-
able convei-sation of the accomplished lady Masham,
who was the daughter of the learned Dr. Cudworth ;
as this lady and lAIr. Locke had a great esteem and
friendship for each other. At the commencement of
the summer of the year 1703, a season, which in for-
mer years, had always restored him some degrees of
strength, he perceived that it had begun to fail him
more remarkably than ever. This convinced him that
his dissolution was at no great distance, and he often
spoke of it himself, but always with gi*eat composure ;
while he omitted none of the precautions which, from
his skill in physic, he knew had a tendency to prolong
his life. At length his legs began to swell ; and that
swelling increasing every day, his strength visibly di-
minished. He therefore prepared to take leave of the
world, deeply impressed with a sense of God's manifold
blessings to him. which he took delight in recounting to
his friends, and full of a sincere resignation to the divine
will, and of firm hopes in the promises of future hfe.
As he had been incapable for a considerable time of
going to church, he thought proper to receive the sa-
crament at home; and two of his friends communicat-
ing with him, as soon as the ceremony was finished,
he told the minister, " that he was in perfect charity
with all men, and in a sincere communion witli the
church of Christ, by what name soever it might be dis-
tinguished." He lived some months after this ; which
time he spent in acts of piety and devotion. On the
day before his death, lady 3Iasham being alone with
him, and sitting by his bed-side, he exhorted her to re-
gard this workl only as a state of preparation for a bet-
ter ; adding " that he had lived long enough, and that
he thanked God he had enjoyed a happy life ; but that,
after all, he looked upon this life to be nothing but van-

LIFE OF LOCKE. 17

ity. He had no rest that night, and resolved to try to
rise on the following morning, which he did, and was
carried into his study, where he was placed in an easy
chair, and slept for a considerable time. Seeming a
little refreshed, he would be dressed as he used to be,
and observing lady Masham reading to herself in the
Psalms while he Avas dressing, he requested her to read
aloud. She did so, and he appeared very attentive, till,
feeling the approach of death, he desired her to break
off, and in a few minutes expired, on the twenty-eighth
of October, 1704, in the seventy-third year of his age.
He was interred in the church of Oates, where there
is a decent monument erected to his memory, with a
modest inscription in Latin, written by himself.

Thus died that great and most excellent philoso-
pher, John Locke, who was rendered illustrious not
only by his wisdom, but by his piety and virtue, by
his love of truth, and diligence in the pursuit of it, and
by his generous ardour in defence of the civil and re-
ligious rights of mankind. His writings have immor-
talized his name ; and particularly, his Essay concern-
ing the Human Understanding. In this work, " dis-
carding all systematic theories, he has, from actual
experience and observation, delineated the features,
and described the operations of the human mind, with
a degree of precision and minuteness not to be found
in Plato, Aristotle, or Des Cartes. After clearing the
way by setting aside the whole doctrine of innate no-
tions and principles, both speculative and practical,
the author traces all ideas to two sources, sensation
and reflection ; treats at large on the nature of ideas,
simple and complex ; of the operations of the human
miderstauding in forming, distinguishing, compound-
ing, and associating them ; of the manner in which
words are applied as representations of ideas ; of the
difficulties and obstructions in the search after truth,
B

18 LIFE OF LOCKE.

which arise from the imperfections of these signs: and
of the nature, reahty, kinds, degrees, casual hinder-
ances, and necessary hmits, of human knowledge.
Though several topics are treated of in this Avork,
which may be considered as episodical with respect to
the main design ; though many opinions which the
author advances may admit of controversy ; and though
on some topics he may not have expressed himself
with his usual perspicuity, and on others may be
thought too verbose ; the work is of inestimable value,
as a history of the human understanding, not compiled
from former books, but written from materials collected
by a long and attentive observation of what passes in
the human mind."

Of Mr. Locke's private character an account was
first published by ]Mr. Peter Coste, who had lived with
him as an amanuensis, which was afterwards prefixed
by M. des Maizeaux to A Collection of several Pieces
of Mr. Locke, never before printed, «fcc., published in
1720 ; from which, together with M. le Clerc's Bibli-
otheque Choisie, we shall present our readers with
some interesting ])articulars relating to this great man.
Mr. Locke possessed a great knowledge of the world,
and w^as intimately conversant in the business of it.
He was prudent, without cunning ; he engaged men's
esteem by his y)robity ; and took care to secure him-
self from the attacks of false friends and sordid flatter-
ers. Averse to all mean comphance, his wisdom, his
experience, and his gentle manner, gained him the re-
spect of his inferiors, the esteem of his equals, the
friendship and confidence of those of the highest qual-
ity. He was remarkable for the ease and politeness of
his behaviour ; and those who knew him only by his
writings, or by the reputation which he had acquired,
and who had supposed him a reserved or austere man,
were surprised, if they happened to be introduced to

ilFE OF LOCKE. 19

him, to find him all affability, good-humour and com-
plaisance. If there was any thing which he could not
bear, it was ill manners, with which he was always
disgusted, unless when it proceeded from ignorance ;
but when it was the effect of pride, ill-nature, or bru-
tality, he detested it. Civility he considered to be not
only a duty of humanity, but of the Christian profes-
sion, and what ought to be more frequently pressed
and urged upon men than it commonly is. With a
view to promote it, he recommended a treatise in the
moral essays written by the gentlemen of Port Royal,
" concerning the means of preserving peace among
men ;" and also the Sermons of Dr. Wichcote on this
and other moral subjects. He was exact to his word,
and religiously performed whatever he promised.
Though he chiefly loved truths which were useful,
and with such stored his mind, and was best pleased
to make them the subjects of conversation ; yet he
used to say, that in order to employ one part of this
life in serious and important occupations, it was ne-
cessary to spend another in mere amusements ; and,
when an occasion naturally offered, he gave himself
up with pleasure to the charms of a free and facetious
conversation. He remembered many agreeable sto-
ries, which he always introduced with great propriety,
and generally made them yet more delightful, by his
natural and pleasant manner of telling them. He had
a peculiar art, in conversation, of leading people to
talk concerning what they best understood. With a
gardener, he conversed of gardening ; with a jeweller
of jewels ; with a chemist of chemistry, &c. " By
this," said he, " I please those men, who commonly
can speak pertinently upon nothing else. As they be-
lieve I have an esteem for their profession, they are
charmed with showing their abilities before me : and
I, in the meanwhile, improve mvself by their dis-
B 2

20 I^IFE OF LOCKE.

course." And, indeed, he had by this method ac-
quired a very good insight into all the arts. He used
to say, too, that the knowledge of the arts contained
more true philosophy, than all those fine learned hy-
potheses, which, having no relation to the nature of
things, are fit only to make men lose their time in ia-
venting or comprehending them. By the several ques-
tions which he would put to artificers, he w^ould
find out the secret of their art, which they did not
understand themselves : and often gave them views
entirely new, wiiich sometimes they put in practice
to their profit. He was so far from assuming those
affected airs of gravity, by which some persons, as well
learned as unlearned, love to distinguish themselves
from the rest of the world, that, on the contrary, he
looked upon them as infallible marks of impertinence.
Nay, sometimes he would divert himself with imitating
that studied gravity, in order to turn it the better into
ridicule ; and upon such occasions he always recol-
lected this maxim of the Duke de la Rochefoucault,
which he particularly admired, " that gravity is a mys-
tery of the body, invented to conceal the defects of the
mind." One thing, which those who lived any time
with Mr. Locke could not help observing in him was,
that he used his reason in every thing he did ; and
that nothing that was useful seemed unworthy of his
attention and care. He often used to say, that " there
was an art in every thing ;" and it was easy for any
one to see it, from the manner in wiiich he went about
the most trifling things.

As Mr. Locke kept utility in view in all his disqui-
sitions, he esteemed the employments of men only in
proportion to the good which they are capable of pro-
ducing. On this account he had no great value for
those critics, or mere grammarians, who waste their
lives in comparing words and phrases, and in coming

LIFE OF LOCKE. 21

to a determination in the choice of a various reading,
in a passage of no importance. He valued yet less
those professed disputants, who bemg wholly possessed
with a desire of coming off with victory, fortify them-
selves behind the ambiguity of a word, to give their
adversaries the more trouble ; and whenever he had to
argue with such persons, if he did not beforehand
strongly resolve to keep his temper, he was apt to grow
somewhat warm. For his natural disposition was ir-
ritable ; but his anger never lasted long. If he retained
any resentment, it was against himself, for having
given way to such a ridiculous passion, which as he
used to say, may do a great deal of harm, but never
yet did the least good. He was charitable to the poor,
excepting such as were idle or profane, and spent their
Sundays in ale-houses, instead of attending at church.
And he particularly compassionated those, who, after
they had laboured as long as their strength would per-
mit, were reduced to poverty. He said, that it was not
enough to keep them from starving but that a provi-
sion ought to be made for them, sufficient to render
them comfortable. In his friendships he was warm
and steady ; and, therefore, felt a strong indignation
against any discovery of treachery or insincerity in
those in whom he confided. It is said, that a particu-
lar person, whh whom he had contracted an intimate
friendship in the earlier part of his life, was discov-
ered by him to have acted with great baseness and
perfidy. He had not only taken every method pri-
vately of doing Mr. Locke what injury he could in the
opinion of those with whom he was connected, but
had also gone off with a large sum of money which
was his property, and at a time, too, when he knew
that such a step must involve him in considerable dif-
ficulties. Many years after all intercourse had, by
such treachery, been broken off between tliem, and

22 LIFE OF LOCKE.

when Mr. Locke was one of the lords of trade and
plantations, information was brought to him one morn-
ing, while he was at breakffist, that a person shabbily
dressed requested the honour of speaking to him. Mr.
Locke, with the politeness and humanity which were
natural to him, immediately ordered him to be admit-
ted ; and beheld, to his great astonishment, his false
friend, reduced by a life of cunning and extravagance
to poverty and distress, and come to solicit his forgive-
ness, and to implore his assistance. Mr. Locke looked
at him for some time very steadfastly, without speaking
one word. At length, taking out a fifty pound note, he
presented it to him with the following remarkable decla-
ration : "Though I sincerely forgive your behaviour to
me, yet I must never put it in your power to injure me a
second time. Take this trifle, which I give, not as a
mark of my former friendship, but as a relief to your
present wants, and consign to the service of your neces-
sities, without i-ecollecting how little you desen^e it.
No reply ! It is impossible to regain my good opinion ;
for know, friendship once injured is forever lost."

Mr. Locke was naturally very active, and employed
himself as much as his health would permit. Some-
times he diverted himself by working in the garden, at
which he was very expert. He loved walking, but
being prevented by his asthmatic complaint from tak-
ing much of that exercise, he used to ride out after
dinner, either on horseback or in an open chaise, as
he was able to bear it. His bad health occasioned
disturbance to no person but himself; and persons
might be with him without any other concern than
that created by seeing him suffer. He did not differ
from others in the article of diet ; but his ordinary
drink was only water ; and this he thought was the
cause of his having his life ]>rolonged to such an age,
notwithstanding the weakness of his constitution. To

LIFE OF LOCKE. 23

the same cause, also, he thought that the preservation
of his eyesight was in a great measure to be attributed ;
for he could read by candleHght all sorts of books to
the last, if they were not of a verj*- small print ; and
he had never made use of spectacles. He had no
other disorder but his asthma, excepting a deafness of
six months' continuance, about four years before his
death. Writing to a friend, while labouring under this
affliction, he observed, that since it had entirely de-
prived him of the pleasures of conversation, " he did
not know but it was better to be blind than deaf."
Among the honours paid to the memory of this great
man, that of queen Caroline, consort of king George
II., ought not to be overlooked ; for that princess, hav-
ing erected a pavilion in Richmond park in honour of
philosophy, placed in it our author's bust, with those
of Bacon, Newton, and Clarke, as the four prime Eng-
lish philosophers. Mr. Locke left several MSS. behind
him, from which his executors, sir Peter King, and
Anthony Collins, Esq. published in 1705, his Para-
phrase and Notes upon St. Paul's Epistle to the Gala-
tians, in quarto, which were soon followed by those
upon the Corinthians, Romans, and Ephesians, with
an Essay prefixed for the understanding of St. Paul's
Epistles, by consulting St. Paul himself In 1706,
the posthumous works of Mr. Locke were published
in octavo, comprising a treatise On the Conduct of the
Understanding, supplementary to the author's essay ;
An Examination of Malebranche's Opinion of seeing
all Things in God, &c. In 1708, Some Familiar Let-
ters between Mr. Locke and several of his Friends
were also published in octavo; and in 1720, M. des
Maizeaux's Collection, already noticed by us. But all
our author's works have been collected together, and
frequently reprinted, in three vols, folio ; in four vols,
quarto ; and in ten vols, octavo.

ANALYSIS OF THE SUBJECT,

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

EDUCATION,

PHYSICAL :

Health, Page 34

Tenderness,

Warmth,

Feet,

Alterations,

Swimming,

Air,

Habits, 41

Clothes, '"

Diet, 43

Meals, 45

Drink, 46

Fruit, 48

Sleep,

Bed,

Physic,

MORAL :
End of Moral Culture,
Early Influence,

Craving, 60, 131

Early Regulation, ... 61
Punishments,... 63, 92, 104

Awe, 64

Self-Denial, "

Dejection, 65

Beating, 65, 92, 104

Rewards, 67

Shame, '^2

Reputation, 70, 73

Childishness, 74

Rules, 75

Habits, 76

Practice, 77

Affectation, 78

Manners, 80

Company, 84, 184

Vice, 89

Virtue, 90

Private Education, ... "

26

ANALYSIS A>'D CONTENTS.

Example, 91, 104

Tasks, 93

DlSPOSITIOX, '•

Compulsion, 96, 163

Chiding, 97

Obstinacy, 98

Reasoning, 10*2

Tutor, 109

Governor, 110

Familiarity, ] 24

Reverence, 128

Temper, *•

Dominion, 130

Curiosity, 135, 154

Complaints, 137

Liberality, '•

Justice, 138

Crying, 140

Fool-Hardiness, 143

Courage, '145

Cowardice, 146

Timorousness, 148

Hardiness, 149

Cruelty, 151

Sauntering, 159

Lying, 167

Excuses, 168

God, 170

Spirits, 171

Goblins, <•

Truth, 173

Good-Nature, '•

Wisdom, 174

Breeding, 175, 180

Roughness, 177

Contempt, ''

Censoriousness,

Raillery,

Contradiction, .
Captiousness,. .
Interruption,. .
Dispute,

I INTELLECTUAL.

Learning,

Reading,

Writing,

Drawing,

Short-Hand,

French,

Latin, 197,

Grammar,

Themes,

Versifying,

Memoriter Recitation,

Geography,

Arithmetic,

Astronomy,

Geometry,

Chronology,

History,

Ethics,

Civil Law,

English Law,

Rhetoric and Logic,..

Style,

Letters,

English,

Natural Philosophy, .

Greek,

Method,

Painting,

Accounts, (mercantile)

177

178

II

179
182

184

185
186
194
195
196

a

218
206
211
213
215
219
220
221
222

iC

223
22i

li

225
226
228
229
230
231
236
240
246
251

ANALYSIS AND CONTENTS.

27

EXERCISES COMBINING THE VARIOUS DEPARTMENTS OF
EDUCATION.

Recreatiox, 135,247

Da>ci-ng, 81, 241

Play-Games, i6o

Fencing, 243

Music, 241

Ma.vual Trade, .. 244, 250

Gardening, 246

Joinery, '•

JTravel, 252

CONCLUSION,

256

DEDICATION

TO EDWARD CLARKE, OF CHIPLEY, ESQ.

Sir, — These Thoughts concerning Education, which
now come abroad into the world, do of right belong to
you, being written several years since for your sake,
and are no other than what you have already by you
in my letters. I have so little varied any thing, but
only the order of what was sent you at different times,
and on several occasions, that the reader will easily
find, in the familiarity and fashion of the style, that
they were rather the private conversation of two
friends than a discourse designed for public view.

The importunity of friends is the common apology
for publications men are afraid to own themselves for-
ward to. But you know I can truly say, that if some,
who having heard of these papers of mine, had not
pressed to see them, and afterwards to have them
printed, they had lain donnant still in that privacy
they were designed for. But those whose judgment I
defer much to, telling me, that they were persuaded,
that this rough draught of mine might be of some use,
if made more public, touched upon what will always
be very prevalent with me. For I think it ever\' man's
indispensable duty, to do all the service he can to his
countrj' ; and I see not what difference he puts be-

30 DEDICATION.

tween himself and his cattle, who lives without that
thought. This subject is of so great conceniment,
and a right way of education is of so general advan-
tage, that did I find my abilities answer my wishes, I
should not have needed exhortations or importunities
from others. However, the meanness of these papers,
and my just distrust of them, shall not keep me, by
the shame of doing so little, from contributing my
mite, where there is no more required of me than my
throwing it into the public receptacle. And if there
be any more of their size and notions, who liked them
so well that they thought them worth printing, I may
flatter myself they will not be lost labour to every
body.

I myself have been consulted of late by so many,
who profess themselves at a loss how to breed their
children, and the early coiTuption of youth is now
become so general a complaint, that he cannot be
thought wholly impertinent who brings the considera-
tion of this matter on the stage, and offers something,
if it be but to excite others, or afford matter of correc-
tion. For errors in education should be less indulged
than any : these, like faults in the first concoction, that
are never mended in the second or tliird, cany their
afterwards-incorrigible taint with them through all the
parts and stations of life.

I am so far from being conceited of any thing I have
here offered, that I should not be sorry, even for your
sake, if some one abler and fitter for such a task
would, in a just treatise of education, suited to our
English gentr}', rectify the mistakes I have made in
this : it being much more desirable to me, that young
gentlemen should be put into (that which every one
ought to be solicitous about,) the best way of being
formed and instructed than that my opinion should be
received concerning it. You wil

DEDICATION-. 31

meantime bear me witness, that the method here pro-
posed has had no ordinary effects upon a gentleman's
son it was not designed for. I will not say the good
temper of the child did not very much contribute to
it, but this I think you and the parents are satisfied of,
that a contrary usage, according to the ordinary dis-
ciplining of children, would not have mended that
temper, nor have brought him to be in love with his
book ; to take a pleasure in learning, and to desire, as
he does, to be taught more than those about him think
fit always to teach him.

But my business is not to recommend this treatise
to you, whose opinion of it I know already ; nor it to
the world, either by your opinion or patronage. The
well educating of their children is so much the duty
and concern of parents, and the welfare and prosperi-
ty of the nation so much depends on it, that I would
have every one lay it seriously to heart ; and after hav-
ing well examined and distinguished what fancy, cus-
tom, or reason advises in the case, set his helping
hand to promote every where that way of training up
youth, with regard to their several conditions, which
is the easiest, shortest, and hkeliest to produce virtu-
ous, useful, and able men in their distinct callings :
though that most to be taken care of is the gentleman's
calling. For if those of that rank are by their educa-
tion once set right, they will quickly bring all the rest
into order.

I know not whether I have done more than shown
my good wishes towards it in this short discourse ;
such as it is, the world now has it ; and if there be
any thing in it Avorth their acceptance, they owe their
thanks to you for it. ]My affection to you gave the
first rise to it, and I am pleased, that I can leave to
posterity this mark of the friendship has been between
us. For I know no greater pleasure in this life, nor a

32 DEDICATION.

better remembrance to be left behind one, than a
long continued friendship, with an honest, useful, and
worthy man, and lover of his countrj'.
I am, Sir,

Your most humble

And most faithful servant,

JOHN LOCKE.
March 7, 1690.

SOME THOUGHTS

C O X C E R N I X G E D U C A T I O X

§ 1. A sound mind in a sound body, is a short but
full description of a happy state in this world : he that
has these two, has little more to wish for ; and he that
wants either of them, will be but little the better for
any thing else. Men's happiness or misery is most
part of their own making. He whose mind directs
not wisely, will never take the right way ; and he
whose body is crazy and feeble, will never be able to
advance in it. I confess, there are some men's con-
stitutions of body and mind so vigorous, and well
framed by nature, that they need not much assistance
from others ; but, by the strength of their natural ge-
nius, they are, from their cradles, carried towards what
is excellent; and, by the privilege of their happy con-
stitutions, are able to do wonders. But examples of
this kind are but few ; and I think I may say, that,
of all the men we meet with, nine parts of ten are what
they are, good or evil, useful or not, by their educa-
tion. It is that which makes the great difference in
mankind. The little, or almost insensible, impressions
on our tender infancies, have very important and last-
ing consequences : and there it is, as in the fountains
of some rivers, where a gentle application of the hand
turns the flexible waters into channels, that make them
C

34 LOCKE.

take quite contrary courses ; aiid by this little direc-
tion, given them at first, in the source, they receive
different tendencies, and arrive at last at very remote
and distant places.

§ 2. I imagine the minds of children as easily turn-
ed, this or that way as water itself; and though this be
the principal part, and our main care should be about
the inside, yet the clay cottage is not to be neglected.
I shall therefore begin with the case, and consider first
the health of the bodv, as that which

HEALTH. , ," ^ r-

perhaps you may rather expect, irom
that study I have been thought more peculiarly to have
applied myself to ; and that also which will be soonest
despatched, as lying, if I guess not amiss, in a very
little compass.

§ 3. How necessary health is to our business and
happiness, and how requisite a strong constitution, able
to endure hardships and fatigue, is to one that will
make any figure in the world, is too obvious to need
any proof

§ 4. The consideration I shall here have, of health,
shall be, not what a physician ought to do, with a sick
or crazy child ; but what the parents, without the help
of physic, should do for the preservation and improve-
ment of an healthy, or, at least, not sickly constitution,
in their children : and this perhaps might be all des-
patched in this one short rule, viz. that gentlemen
should use their children as the honest farmers and
substantial yeomen do theirs. But because the moth-
ers, possibly, may think this a little too hard, and the
fathers, too short, I shall explain myself more particu-
larly ; only laying down this, as a general and certain
observation for the women to consider, viz. that most
children's constitutions are either
spoiled, or at least harmed, by cocker-
ing and tenderness.

WARMTH. 35

§ 5. The first thing to be taken care of is, that chil-
dren be not too warmly clad or cov-
ered, winter or summer. The face,
w^hen we are born, is no less tender than any other part
of the body : it is use alone hardens it, and makes it
more able to endure the cold. And therefore the Scy-
thian philosopher gave a very significant answer to the
Athenian, who wondered how^ he could go naked in
frost and snow : " How," said the Scythian, " can you
endure your face exposed to the sharp winter air ?"
"My face is used to it," said the Athenian. "Think
me all face," replied the Scythian. Our bodies will
endure any thing that from the beginning they are ac-
customed to.

An eminent instance of this, though in the contrary
excess of heat, being to our present purpose, to show
what use can do, I shall set down in the author's words,
as I met with it in a late ingenious voyage :- " The
heats," says he, " are more violent in Malta than in any
part of Europe : they exceed those of Rome itself, and
are perfectly stifling ; and so much the more, because
there are seldom any coohng breezes here. This
makes the common people as black as gypsies : but
yet the peasants defy the sun : they work on in the hot-
test part of the day, without intermission, or sheltering
themselves from his scorching rays. This has con-
vinced me that nature can bring itself to man}^ things
which seem impossible, provided we accustom our-
selves from our infancy. The 3Ialtese do so, who
harden the bodies of their children, and reconcile them
to the heat, by making them go stark naked, without
shirt, drawers, or any thing on their head, from their
cradles, till they are ten years old."

Nouveau Voyage du Levant, xa.a.
c2

36 LOCKE.

Give me leave, therefore, to advise you not to fence
too carefully against the cold of this our chmate : there
are those in England, who wear the same clothes win-
ter and summer, and that without any inconvenience,
or more sense of cold than others find. But if the
mother will needs have an allowance for frost and
snow, for fear of harm, and the father, for fear of cen-
sure, be sure let not his winter-clothing be too warm ;
and amongst other things remember, that when nature
has so well covered his head with hair, and strength-
ened it with a year or two's age, that he can run about
by da}^, without a cap, it is best that by night a child
should also lie without one ; there being nothing that
more exposes to head-ach, colds, catarrhs, coughs, and
several other diseases, than keeping the head warm.

«^\ 6. I have said he here, because the principal aim

of my discourse is, how a young gentleman should be

brought up from his infancy, which in all things will

not so perfectly suit the education of daughters ;

though, where the difference of sex requires different

treatment, it will be no hard matter to distinguish.

§ 7. I would also advise his feet to be washed every

day in cold water ; and to have his

shoes so thin, that they might leak and

let in water, whenever he comes near it.* Here, I fear,

I shall have the mistress, and maids too, against me.

One will think it too filthy ; and the other, perhaps, too

much pains to make clean his stockings. But yet

truth will have it, that his health is much more worth

than all such considerations, and ten times as much

* It is necessary, perhaps, here to remind the reader, that,
to secure the advantage of a full and exact reprint of Mr.
Lockes Thoughts, it was necessary to include several things
v.-hich ought to be regarded rather as peculiarities of opinion,
than as salutary suggestions. — Ed.]

FEET. 37

more. And he that considers how mischievous and
mortal a thing taking wet in the feet is, to those who
have been bred nicely, will wish he had, with the poor
people's children, gone barefoot ; who, by that means,
come to be so reconciled by custom, to wet their feet,
that they take no more cold or harm by it than if they
were wet in their hands. And what is it, T pra} , that
makes this great difference between the hands and the
feet in others, but only custom ? I doubt not, but if a
man from his cradle had been always used to go bare-
foot, whilst his hands were constantly wrapped up in
warm mittens, and covered with hand shoes, as the
Dutch call gloves ; I doubt not, I say, [)ut such a cus-
tom would make taking wet in his hands as dangerous
to him, as now taking wet in their feet is to a great
many others. The way to prevent this, is to have his
shoes made so as to leak water, and his feet washed
constantly every day in cold water. It is recommend-
able for its cleanliness : but that, which I aim at in it,
is heahh. And therefore I hmit it not precisely to
any time of the day. I have known it used every
night with very good success, and that all the winter,
without the omitting it so much as one night, in ex-
treme cold weather : when thick ice covered the wa-
ter, the child bathed his legs and feet in it ; though he
was of an age not big enough to rub and wipe them
himself; and when he began this custom, was puhng
and very tender. But the greater end being to harden
those parts, by a frequent and famihar use of cold wa-
ter, and thereby to ])revent the mischiefs that usually
attend accidental taking wet in the feet, in those who
are bred otherwise ; I think it may be left to the pru-
dence and convenience of the parents, to choose either
night or morning. The lime I deem indifferent, so the
thing be effectually done. The health and hardiness
procured by it, would be a good purchase at a much

38 LOCKE.

dearer rate. To which if I add the preventing of
corns, tiiat to some men would be a very vahiable con-
sideration. But begin first in the spring with luke-
warm, and so colder and colder every time, till in a
few days you come to perfectly cold water, and then
continue it so, winter and summer. For it is to be
observed in this, as in all other alterations from our
ordinary way of hving, the changes
must be made by gentle and insensi-
ble degrees ; and so Ave may bring our bodies to any
thing, without pain, and without danger.

How fond mothers are like to receive this doctrine,
is not hard to foresee. What can it be less than to
murder their tender babes, to use them thus ? What I
put their feet in cold water in frost and snow, when all
one can do is little enough to keep them warm ! A
little to remove their fears by examples, without which
the plainest reason is seldom hearkened to ; Seneca
tells us of himself, ep. 53 and 83, that he used to bathe
himself in cold spring-water in the midst of winter.
This, if he had not thought it not only tolerable, but
healthy too, he would scarce have done, in an exuber-
ant fortune, that could well have borne the expense of
a warm bath ; and in an age, (for he was then old,) that
would have excused greater indulgence. If we think
his stoical principles led him to this severity ; let it be
so, that this sect reconciled cold water to his suffer-
ance : what made it agreeable to his health ? for that
was not impaired by this hard usage. But what shall
we say to Horace, who armed not himself with the
reputation of any sect, and least of all affected stoical
austerities ? yet he assures us, he was wont in the win-
ter season to bathe himself in cold water. But per-
haps Italy will be thought much warmer than Eng-
land, and the chilness of their waters not to come near
ours in winter. If the rivers of Italy are w^armer, those

SWIMMI>G. 39

of Germany and Poland are much colder, than any in
this our country ; and yet in these the Jews, both men
and women, bathe all over at all seasons of the year,
without any prejudice to their health. And everyone
is not apt to believe it is a miracle, or any peculiar
virtue of St. Winifred's well, that makes the cold wa-
ters of that famous spring do no harm to the tender
bodies that bathe in it. Every one is now full of the
miracles done, by cold baths, on decayed and weak
constitutions, for the recovery of health and strength ;
and therefore they cannot be impracticable, or intoler-
able, for the improving and hardening the bodies of
those who are in better circumstances.

If these examples of grown men be not thought yet
to reach the case of children, but that they may be
judged still to be too tender and unable to bear such
usage ; let them examine what the Germans of old,
and the Irish now do to them ; and they will find that
infants too, as tender as they are thought, may, with-
out any danger, endure bathing, not only of their feet,
but of their whole bodies in cold water. And there
are, at this day, ladies in the Highlands of Scotland,
who use this discipline to their children, in the midst
of winter ; and find that cold water does them no
harm, even when there is ice in it.

§ 8. I shall not need here to mention swimming,
when he is of an age able to learn and

°, , . , . , SWIMMING.

has any one to teach him. It is that
saves many a man's life: and the Romans thought it
so necessary, that they ranked it with letters ; and it
was the common phrase to mark one ill educated, and
good for nothing, that he had neither learned to read
nor to swim : " Nee hteras didicit, nee natare." But
besides the gaining of skill, which may serve him at
need ; the advantages to health, by often bathing in
cold water, during the heat of summer, are so many,

40 LOCKE.

that I think nothing need to be said to encourage it ;
provided this one caution be used, that he never go into
the water when exercise has at all warmed him, or left
any emotion in his blood or pulse.

§ 9. Another thing that is of great advantage to every
one's health, but especially children's,
is to be much in the open air, and
very little, as may be, by the fire, even in winter. By
this he will accustom himself also to heat and cold,
shine and rain ; all which if a man's body will not
endure, it will serve him to veiy little purpose in this
world ; and when he is grown up, it is too late to begin
to use him to it : it must be got early and by degrees.
Thus the body may be brought to bear almost any thing.
If I should advise him to play in the wind and sun
without a hat, I doubt whether it could be borne.
There would a thousand objections be made against it,
which at last would amount to no more, in truth, than
being sun-burnt. And if my young master be to be
kept always in the shade, and never exposed to the sun
and wind, for fear of his complexion, it may be a good
way to make him a beau, but not a man of business.
And although greater regard be to be had to beauty in
the daughters, yet I will take the liberty to say, that
the more they are in the air, without prejudice to their
faces, the stronger and healthier they will be ; and the
nearer they come to the hardships of their brothers in
their education, the greater advantage will they receive
from it, all the remaining part of their lives.

§ 10. Playing in the open air has but this one danger
in it, that I know ; and that is, that when he is hot
with running up and down, he should sit or he down
on the cold or moist earth. This, I grant, and drink-
ing cold drink, when they are hot with labour or exer-
cise, brings more people to the grave, or to the brink
of it, by fevers and other diseases, than any thing I

CLOTHES. 41

know. These mischiefs are easily enough prevented,
whilst he is little ; being then seldom out of sight.
And if during his childhood he be constantly and rig-
orously kept from sitting on the ground, or drinking
any cold liquor, whilst he is hot, the custom of forbear-
ing, grown into a habit, will help much to preserve
him, when he is no longer under his maid's or tutor's
eye. This is all I think can be done
in the case. For, as years increase,
liberty must come with them ; and, in a great many
things, he must be trusted to his own conduct, since
there cannot always be a guard upon him ; except
what you put into his own mind, by good principles
and established habits, which is the best and surest,
and therefore most to be taken care of. For, from
repeated cautions and rules, ever so often inculcated,
you are not to expect any thing, either in this or any
other case, farther than practice has established them
into habit.

§ ]1. One thing the mention of the girls brings into
my miod, which must not be forgot :

' , '. , , 1 ", CLOTHES.

and that is, that your son s clothes
be never made strait, especially about the breast. Let
nature have scope to fashion the body as she thinks
best. She works of herself a great deal better and
exacter than we can direct her. And if women were
themselves to frame the bodies of their children in their
wombs, as they often endeavour to mend their shapes
when they are out, we should as certainly have no
perfect children born, as Ave have few well-shaped,
that are strait-laced, or much tampered with. This
consideration should, methinks, keep busy people, (I
will not say ignorant nurses and boddice-makei-s,)from
meddling in a matter they understand not ; and they
should be afraid to i)ut nature out of her way, in fash-
ioning the parts, when they know not how the least

42

LOCKE.

aiid meanest is made. And yet I have seen so many
instances of children receiving great harm from strait
lacing, that I cannot but conclude, there are other
creatures, as well as monkeys, who, little wiser than
they, destroy their young ones by senseless fondness,
and too much embracing.

§ 12. Narrow breasts, short and fetid breath, ill lungs,
and crookedness, are the natural and almost constant
effects of hard boddice, and clothes that pinch. That
w^ay of making slender waists, and fine shapes, serves
but the more effectually to spoil them. Nor can there,
indeed, but be disproportion in the pails, wiien the
nourishment prepared iji the several offices of the body,
cannot be distributed, as nature designs. And there-
fore, what wonder is it, if, it being laid where it can,
or some part not so braced, it often makes a shoulder,
or a hip, higher or bigger than its just proportion ? It
is generally known, that the women of China, (imagin-
ing I know not wiiat kind of beauty iji it,) by bracing
and binding them hard from their infancy, have very
little feet. I saw lately a pair of Chinese shoes, which
I was told were for a grown woman ; they were so
exceedingly disproportioned to the feet of one of the
same age amongst us, that they would scarce have
been big enough for one of our little girls. Besides
this, it is observed, that their women are also very little,
and short-lived ; whereas the men are of the ordinary
stature of other men, and live to a proportionable age.
These defects in the female sex of that country are by
some imputed to the unreasonable binding of their
feet ; whereby the free circulation of the blood is hin-
dered, and the growth and health of the whole body
suffers. And how often do we see, that some small
part of the foot being injured, by a wrench or a blow,
the whole leg or thigh thereby loses its strength and
nourishment, and dwindles away I How much greater

43

inconveniences may we expect, when the thorax,
wherein is placed the heart and seat of life, is unnat-
urally compressed, and hindered from its due expan-
sion I

§ 13. As for his diet, it ought to be very plain and
simple ; and if I might advise, flesh
should be forborne as long as he is
in coats, or at least, till he is two or three years old.
But whatever advantage this may be, to his present
and future health and strength, I fear it will hardly be
consented to, by parents, misled by the custom of eat-
ing too much flesh themselves ; who will be apt to
think their children, as they do themselves, in danger
to be starved, if they have not flesh, at least twice a
day. This I am sure, children would breed their teeth
with much less danger, be freer from diseases, whilst
they were little, and lay the foundations of an healthy
and strong constitution much surer, if they were not
crammed so much as they are, by fond mothers and
fooHsh servants, and were kept wholly from flesh, the
first three or four years of their lives.

But if my young master must needs have flesh, let
it be but once a day, and of one sort at a meal. Plain
beef, mutton, veal, &c. without other sauce than
hunger, is best ; and great care should be used, that
he eat bread plentifully both alone and whh every
thing else. And whatever he eats, that is sohd, make
him chew it well. We Enghsh are often negligent
herein ; from whence follows indigestion, and other
great inconveniencies.

§ 14. For breakfast and supper, milk, milk-pot-
tage, water-gruel, flummery, and twenty other things,
that we are wont to make in England, are very fit for
children : only in all these let care be taken that they be
plain, and without much mixture, and very sparingly
seasoned with sugar, or rather none at all : especially

44 LOCKE.

ali-spice, and other things that may heat the blood,
are carefully to be avoided. Be sparing also of salt,
in the seasoning of all his victuals, and use him not to
high-seasoned meats. Our palates grow into a relish
and liking of the seasoning and cooker}', which by
custom they are set to ; and an over-much use of salt,
besides that it occasions thirst, and over-much drink-
ing, has other ill-effects upon the body. I should
think that a good piece of Avell-made and well-baked
bro^^^l bread, sometimes with, and sometimes without
butter or cheese, would be often the best breakfast for
my young master. I am sure it is as wholesome, and
■will make him as strong a man as gi'eater delicacies ;
and if he be used to it, it will be as pleasant to him.
If he at any time calls for victuals between meals, use
him to nothing but dry bread. If he be hungry, more
than wanton, bread alone will down ; and if he be not
hungry, it is not fit he should eat. By this you will
obtain two good effects: 1. That hj custom he will
come to be in love with bread ; for, as I said, our
palates and stomachs too are pleased with the things
we are used to. Another good you will gain hereby
is, that you will not teach him to eat more nor oftener
than nature requires. I do not think that all people's
appetites are alike: some have naturally stronger, and
some weaker stomachs. But this I think, that many
are made gormands and gluttons by custom, that were
not so by nature ; and I see, in some countries, men
as lusty and strong, that eat but two meals a day, as
others that have set their stomachs by a constant
usage, like larums, to call on them for four or five.
The Romans usually fasted till supper ; the only set
meal, even of those who ate more than once a day :
and those who used breakfasts, as some did at eight,
some at ten, others at twelve of the clock, and some
later, neither ate flesh, nor had any thing made ready

MEALS. 45

for them. Augustus, when the greatest monarch on
the earth, tells us, he took a bit of dry bread in his
chariot. And Seneca, in his 83d epistle, giving an
account how he managed himself, even when he was
old, and his age permitted indulgence, says, that he
used to eat a piece of dry bread for his dinner, without
the formahty of sitting to it : though his estate would
have as well paid for a better meal, (had health re-
quired it,) as any subject's in England, were it doubled.
The masters of the world were bred up with this spare
diet ; and the young gentlemen of Rome felt no want
of strength or spirit, because they ate but once a day.
Or if it happened by chance, that any one could not
fast so long as till supper, their only set meal ; he took
nothing but a bit of dry bread, or at most a few raisins,
or some such shght thing with it, to stay his stomach.
This part of temperance was found so necessar}-, both
for health and business, that the custom of only one
meal a day held out against that prevailing luxury,
which their Eastern conquests and spoils had brought
in amongst them : and those, who had given up their
old frugal eating, and made feasts, yet began them not
till evening. And more than one set meal a day was
thought so monstrous, that it was a reproach, as low
down as Csesars time, to make an entertainment, or
sit down to a full table, till towards sunset. And
therefore, if it would not be thought too severe, I
should judge it most convenient, that my young mas-
ter should have nothing but bread too for breakfast.
You cannot imagine of what force custom is ; and I
impute a great part of our diseases in England to our
eating too much flesh, and too little bread.

§ 15. As to his meals, I should think it best, that
as much as it can be conveniently
avoided, they should not be kept con- meals.

stantly to an hour. For, when custom hath fixed his

46 LOCKE.

eating to certain stated periods, his stomach will ex-
pect victuals at the usual hour, and grow peevish if
he passes it ; either fretting itself into a troublesome
excess, or flagging into a downright w^ant of appetite.
Therefore I would have no time kept constantly to, for
his breakfast, dinner, and supper, but rather varied,
almost every day. And if, betwixt these, which I call
meals, he will eat, let him have, as often as he calls
for it, good dry bread. If any one think this too hard
and sparing a diet for a child, let them know, that a
child will never starve, nor dwindle for want of nour-
ishment, who, besides flesh at dinner, and spoon-meat,
or some such other thing at supper, may have good
bread and beer, as often as he has a stomach ; for
thus, upon second thoughts, I should judge it best for
children to be ordered. The morning is generally de-
signed for study, to which a full stomach is but an ill
preparation. Dry bread, though the best nourish-
ment, has the least temptation : and nobody would
have a child crammed at breakfast, who has any re-
gard to his mind or body, and would not have him
dull and unhealthy. Xor let any one think this un-
suitable to one of estate and condition. A gentleman,
in any age, ought to be so bred, as to be fitted to bear
arms, and be a soldier. But he that in this, breeds
his son so, as if he designed him to sleep over his life,
in the plenty and ease of a full fortune he intends to
leave him, little considers the examples he has seen,
or the age he lives in.

§ ] G. His drink should be only small beer ; and

that too he should never be suflTered

to have between meals, but after he

had eat a piece of bread. The reasons why I say this

are these :

§ 17. 1. Moro fevers and surfeits are got by peo-
ple's drinking when they are hot, than by any one

DRINK. 47

thing I know. Therefore, if by play he be hot and
dry, bread will ill go down ; and so, if he cannot have
drink, but upon that condition, he will be forced to
forbear. For, if he be very hot, he should by no
means drink. At least, a good piece of bread, first to
be eaten, will gain time to warm the beer blood-hot,
which then he may drink safely. If he be very dry,
it will go down so warmed, and quench his thirst bet-
ter: and, if he will not drink it so warmed, abstaining
will not hurt him. Besides, this will teach him to
forbear, which is an habit of greatest use for health of
body and mind too.

§ 18. "2. Not being permitted to drink without eat-
ing, will prevent the custom of having the cup often
at his nose ; a dangerous beginning and preparation to
good fellowship. Men often bring habitual hunger
and thirst on themselves by custom. And, if you
please to try, you may, though he be weaned from it,
bring him by use to such a necessity of drinking in
the night, that he will not be able to sleep without it.
It being the lullaby, used by nurses, to still crying
children ; I believe mothers generally find some diffi-
culty to wean their children from drinking in the night,
when they first take them home. Believe it, custom
prevails as much by day as by night ; and you may, if
you please, bring any one to be thirsty every hour.

I once lived in a house, where, to appease a froward
child, they gave him drink as often as he cried ; so
that he was constantly bibbing : and though he could
not speak, yet he drank more in twenty-four hours
than I did. Try it when you please, you may with
small, as well as with strong beer, drink yourself into
a drought. The great thing to be minded in education
is, what habits you settle : and therefore in this, as all
other things, do not begin to make any thing custom-
aiy, the practice whereof you would not have continue

48 LOCKE.

and increase. It is convenient for health and sobriety,
to drink no more than natural thirst requires ; and he
that eats not salt meats, nor drinks strong drink, will
seldom thirst between meals, unless he has been ac-
customed to such unseasonable drinking.

§ 19. Above all, take great care that he seldom,, if
ever taste any wine, or strong drink. There is nothing
so ordinarily given children in England, and nothing
so destructive to them. They ought never to drink
any strong liquor, but when they need it as a cordial,
and the doctor prescribes it. And in this case it is,
that servants are most narrowly to be watched, and
most severely to be reprehended, when they transgress.
Those mean sort of people, placing a great part of their
happiness in strong drink, are always forward to make
court to my young master, by offering him that which
they love best themselves; and, finding themselves
made merry by it, they foolishly think it will do the
child no harm. This you are carefully to have your
eye upon, and restrain with all the skill and industrj'^
you can : there being nothing that lays a surer foun-
dation of mischief, both to body and mind, than chil-
dren's being used to strong drink ; especially to drink
in private with the servants.

§ 20. Fruit makes one of the most difficult chap-
ters in the government of health,
^^^^'^' especially that of children. Our first

parents ventured paradise for it : and it is no wonder
our children cannot stand the temptation, though it
cost them their health. The regulation of this cannot
come under any one general rule : for I am by no
means of their mind, would keep children almost
wholly from fruit, as a thing totally unwholesome for
them : by which strict way they make them but the
more ravenous after it ; and to eat good and bad, ripe
or unripe, all that they can get, whenever they come

FRUIT, 49

at it. Melons, peaches, most sorts of plums, and all
sorts of grapes in England, I think children should be
wholly kej)t from, as having a very tempting taste, in
a very unwholesome juice ; so that, if it were possible,
they should never so much as see them, or know there
were any such thing. But strawberries, cherries,
gooseberries, or currants, when thorough ripe, I think
may be very safely allowed them, and that with a pretty
liberal hand, if they be eaten with these cautions.
1. Not after meals, as we usually do, when the stomach
is already full of other food. But I think they should
be eaten rather before, or between meals, and children
should have them for their breakfasts. 2. Bread eaten
with them. 3. Perfectly ripe. If they are thus eaten,
I imagine them rather conducing, than hurtful, to our
health. Summer-fruits, being suitable to the hot sea-
son of the year they come in, refresh om* stomachs,
languishing and fainting under it : and theretbre I
should not be altogether so strict in this point, as some
are to their children ; who being kept so very short,
instead of a moderate quantity of well-chosen fruit,
which being allowed them would content theni, when-
ever they can get loose, or bribe a servant to supply
them, satisfy their longing with any trash they can get,
and eat to a surfeit.

Apples and pears too, which are thorough ripe, and
have been gathered some time, I think may be safely
eaten at any time, and in pretty large quantities ; espe-
cially apples, which never did any body hurt, that I
have heard, after October.

Fruits also dried without sugar I think very whole-
some. But sweetmeats of all kinds are to be avoided ;
which, whether they do more harm to the maker or
eater, is not easy to tell. This I am sure, it is one of
the most inconvenient ways of expense that vanity
hath yet found out ; and so I leave them to the ladies.
D

50 LOCKE.

§21. Of all that looks soft and effeminate, nothing
is more to be induiofed children than

ST EFP

sleep. In this alone they are to be
permitted to have their full satisfaction ; nothing con-
tributing more to the growth and health of children
than sleep. All that is to be regulated in it is, in wliat
part of the twenty-four hours they should take it :
which v.ill easily be resolved, by only saying, that it is
of great use to accustom them to rise early in the
morning. It is best so to do, for health : and he that,
from his childhood, has by a settled custom made
rising betimes easy and familiar to him, will not, when
he is a man, waste the best and most useful part of
his life in drowsiness and lying a-bed. If children
therefore are to be called up early in the morning, it
will follow of course that they must go to bed betimes ;
whereby they will be accustomed to avoid the un-
healthy and unsafe hours of debauchery, which are
those of the evenings: and they who keep good hours
seldom are guilty of any great disorders. I do not
say this, as if your son, when grown up, should never
be in company past eight, nor never chat over a glass
of wine till midnight. You are now, by the accus-
toming of his tender years, to indispose him to those
inconvcniencies as much as you can ; and it will be
no small advantage, that contrary practice having made
sitting-up uneasy to him, it will make hhn often avoid,
and very seldom propose midnight revels. But if it
should not reach so far, but fashion and company
should prevail, and make him live as others do above
twenty, it is worth the while to accustom him to early
rising and early going to bed, between this and that,
for the present improvement of his health, and other
advantages.

Though I have said a large allowance of sleep, even
as much as thev will take, should be made to children

SLEEP. 51

when they are little ; yet I do not mean, that it should
always be continued to them, in so large a proportion,
and they suffered to indulge a drowsy Ijvziness in their
beds, as they grow up bigger. But whether they
should begin to be restrained at seven, or ten years
old, or any other time, is impossible to be precisely de-
termined. Their tempers, strength, and constitutions
must be considered: but some time between seven and
fourteen, if they are too great lovers of their beds, I
think it may be seasonable to begin to reduce them, by
degrees, to about eight hours, which is generally rest
enough for healthy grown people. If you have accus-
tomed him, as you should do, to rise constantly very
early in the morning, this fault of being too long in
bed will easily be retbrmed ; and most children will be
forward enough to shorten that time themselves, by
coveting to sit up with the company at night : though,
if they be not looked after, they will be apt to take it
out in the morning, which should by no means be per-
mitted. They should constantly be called up, and
made to rise at their early hour ; but great care should
be taken in waking them, that it be not done hastily,
nor with a loud or shrill voice, or any other sudden
violent noise. This often affrights children, and does
them great harm. And sound sleep, thus broke off with
sudden alarms, is apt enough to discompose any one.
When children are to be wakened out of their sleep,
be sure to begin Avith a low call, and some gentle mo-
tion ; and so draw them out of it by degrees, and give
them none but kind words and usage, till they are
come perfectly to themselves, and being quite dressed
you are sure they are thoroughly awake. The being
forced from their sleep, how gently soever you do it, is
pain enough to them : and care should be taken not to
add any other uneasiness to it, especially such as may
terrify them.

d2

52 LOCKE.

§ 22. Let his bed be hard, and rather qiiihs than
feathers. Hard lodging strengthens
the parts ; whereas being buried
every night in feathers, melts and dissolves the body,
is often the cause of weakness, and the forerunner of
an early grave. And, besides the stone, which has
often its rise from this warm wrapping of the reins,
several other indispositions, and that which is the root
of them all, a tender weakly constitution, is very much
owing to down beds. Besides, he that is used to hard
lodging at home, will not miss his sleep, (where he has
most need of it,) in his travels abroad, for want of his
soft bed and his pillows laid in order. And therefore
I think it would not be amiss, to make his bed after
different fashions ; sometimes lay his head higher,
sometimes lower, that he may not feel every little
change he must be sure to meet with, who is not de-
signed to lie always in my young master's bed at
home, and to have his maid lay all things in print, and
tuck him in warm. The great cordial of nature is
sleep. He that misses that, will suffer by it ; and he
is very unfortunate, who can take his cordial only in
his mother's fine gilt cup, and not in a wooden dish.
He that can sleep soundly, takes the cordial : and it
matters not whether it be on a soft bed, or the hard
boards. It is sleep only that is the thing necessary.
§ 23. Perhaps it will be expected from me, that I
should o-ive some directions of phvs-
ic, to prevent diseases : for which I
have only this one, very sacredly to be observed :
never to give children any physic for prevention.
The observation of what I have already advised, will,
I su})pose, do that better than the ladies' diet-drinks,
or apothecary's medicines. Have a great care of tam-
pering that way, lest, instead of preventing, you draw
on diseases. Nor even upon every little indisposition

MIND. 53

is physic to be given, or the physician to be called to
children ; especially if he be a busy man, that will
presently fill their windows with gally-pots, and their
stomachs with drugs. It is safer to leave them wholly
to nature, than to put them into the Irands of one for-
ward to tamper, or that thinks children are to be cured
in ordinary distempers by any thing but diet, or by a
method very little distant from it ; it seeming suitable
both to my reason and experience, that the tender con-
stitutions of children should liave as little done to them
as is possible, and as the absolute necessity of the case
requires. A httle cold stilled red poppy-water, which
is the true surfeit-water, with ease, and abstinence
from flesh, often puts an end to several distempers in
the beginning, which, by too forward applications,
might have been made lusty diseases. When such a
gentle treatment will not stop the growing mischief,
nor hinder it from turning into a fonned disease, it
will be time to seek the advice of some sober and dis-
creet physician. In this part, I hope, I shall find an
easy belief; and nobody can have a pretence to doubt
the advice of one, who has spent some time in the
study of physic, when he counsels you not to be too
forward in making use of physic and physicians.

§ 24. And thus I have done with what concerns
the body and health, which reduces itself to these few
and easily observable rules. Plenty of open air, exer-
cise, and sleep ; plain diet, no wine or strong drink,
and very little or no physic ; not too warm and strait
clothing ; especially the head and feet kept cold, and
the feet often used to cold water and exposed to wet.

§ ^S. Due care being had to keep the body in strength
and vigour, so that it may be able
to obey and execute the orders of
the mind ; the next and principal business is, to set the
mind right, that on all occasions it may be disposed to

54 LOCKE.

consent to nothing but Avhat may be suitable to the
dignit}^ and excellency of a rational creature.

\^ 26. If what I have said in the beginning of this
discourse be true, as I do not doubt but it is, viz. that
the difference to be found in the manners and abilities
of men is owing more to their education than to any
thing else; we have reason to conclude, that great care
is to be had of the forming children's minds, and giv-
ing them that seasoning early, which shall influence
their lives always after. For when they do well or ill,
the praise or blame will be laid there ; and when any
thing is done awkwardly, the common saying will pass
upon them, that it is suitable to their breeding.

§ 27. As the strength of the body lies chiefly in be-
ing able to endure hardships, so also does that of the
mind. And the great principle and foundation of all
virtue and worth is placed in this, that a man is able
to deny himself his own desires, cross his own inclin-
ations, and purely follow what reason directs as best,
though the appetite lean the other way.

§ 28. The great mistake I have observed in people's
breedincr their children has been, that

EARLY 1 • 1 '^ 1 1 u

this has not been taken care enough

1>FLUE>-CE. r • • 1 .i * .i J

of in Its due season ; that the mmd
has not been made obedient to discipline, and pliant to
reason, when at first it was most tender, most easy to
be bowed. Parents being wisely ordained by nature
to love their children, are very apt, if reason watch not
that natural affection very warily : are apt, I say, to let
it run into fondness. They love their little ones, and
it is their duty : but they often with them cherish their
faults too. They must not be crossed, forsooth ; they
must be permitted to have their wills in all things ;
and they being in their infancies not capable of great
vices, their parents think they may safely enough in-
dulge their little irregularities, and make themselves

EARLY INFLUENCE. Q.j

sport with that pretty perverseness, which they think
well enough becomes that innocent age. But to a fond
parent, that would not have his child corrected for a
perverse trick, but excused it, saying it was a small
matter; Solon very well replied, " Ay, but custom is a
great one."

§ 29. The fondling must be taught to strike and call
names ; must have what he cries for, and do what he
pleases. Thus parents, by humouring and cockering
them when little, corrupt the principles of nature in
their children, and wonder afterwards to taste the bit-
ter waters, when they themselves have poisoned the
fountain. For when their children are grown up, and
these ill habits wuth them ; when they are now too big
to be dandled, and their parents can no longer make
use of them as i^lay-things ; then they complain that
the brats are untoward and perverse ; then they are
offended to see them wilful, and are troubled with those
ill humours, which they themselves infused and fo-
mented in them ; and then, perhaps too late, would be
glad to get out those weeds which their own hands have
planted, and which now have taken too deep root to
be easily extirpated. For he that has been used to
have his will in every thing, as long as he was in coats,
why should we think it strange that he should desire it
and contend for it still, when he is in breeches ? In-
deed, as he grows more towards a man, age shows his
faults the more, so that there be few parents then so
blind, as not to see them ; few so insensible as not to
feel the ill effects of their own indulgence. He had
the will of his maid before he could speak or go ; he
had the mastery of his parents ever since he could
prattle ; and why, now he is grown up, is stronger and
wiser than he was then, why now of a sudden must
he be restrained and curbed ? why must lie at seven,
fourteen, or twenty years old, lose the privilege which

56 LOCKE.

the parent's indulgence, till then, so largely allowed
him ? Try it in a dog, or a horse, or any other crea-
ture, and see whether the ill and resty tricks they have
learned when young are easily to be mended when
they are knit: and yet none of those creatures are half
so wilful and proud, or half so desirous to be masters
of themselves and others, as man.

§ 30. We are generally wise enough to begin with
them when they are very young ; and discipline be-
times those other creatures we would make useful and
good for somewhat. They are only our own offspring,
that we neglect in this point ; and, having made them
ill children, we foolishly expect they should be good
men. For if the child must have grapes, or sugar-
plums, when he has a mind to them, rather than make
the poor baby cry, or be out of humour; why, when
he is grown up, must he not be satisfied too, if his de-
sires carry him to wine or women ? They are ob-
jects as suitable to the longing of twenty-one or more
years, as what he cried for, when little, was to the in-
clinations of a child. The having desires accommo-
dated to the apprehensions and relish of those several
ages is not the fault ; but the not having them subject
to the rules and restraints of reason : the difference lies
not in the having or not having appetites, but in the
power to govern, and deny ourselves in them. He
that is not used to submit his will to the reason of oth-
ers, when he is young, will scarce hearken or submit
to his own reason, when he is of an age to make use
of it. And what kind of a man such a one is like to
prove, is easy to foresee.

§ 31. These are oversights usually committed by
those who seem to take the greatest care of their chil-
dren's education. But, if we look into the common
management of children, we shall have reason to won-
der, in the great dissoluteness of manners which the

EARLY INFLUENCE. 57

world complains of, that there are any footsteps at all
left to virtue. I desire to know what vice can be
named, which parents, and those about children, do
not season them with, and drop into them the seeds of,
as often as they are capable to receive them ? I do not
mean b}- the examples they give, and the patterns they
set before them, which is encouragement enough ; but
that which I would take notice of here, is the down-
right teaching them vice, and actual putting them
out of the way of virtue. Before they can go, they
principle them with violence, revenge and cruelty.
« Give me a blow that I may beat him," is a lesson
which most children every day hear : and it is thought
nothing, because their hands have not strength enough
to do any mischief. But, I ask, does not this coiTupt
their minds? is not this the way of force and violence,
that they are set in ? and if they have been taught
when little to strike and hurt others by proxy, and en-
couraged to rejoice in the harm they have brought up-
on them, and see them suffer; are they not prepared
to do it when they are strong enough to be felt them-
selves, and can strike to some purpose ?

The coverings of our bodies, which are for modesty,
warmth, and defence, are by the folly or vice of pa-
rents, recommended to their children for other uses.
They are made matter of vanity and emulation. A
child is set a longing after a new suit, for the finery of
it : and when the little girl is tricked up in her new
gown and commode, how can her motlier do less than
teach her to admire herself, by calling her, " her little
queen," and " her princess ?" Thus the little ones are
taught to be proud of their clothes before they can put
them on. And why should they not continue to value
themselves for this outside fashionableness of the tailor
or the tire-woman's making, when their parents have
so early instructed them to do so ?

58 LOCKE.

Lying and equivocations, and excuses little difFerenl
from lying, are put into the mouths of young people,
and commended in apprentices and children, whilst
they are for their master's or parent's advantage. And
can it be thought that he, that finds the straining of
truth dispensed with, and encoiu-aged, whilst it is for
his godly master's turn, will not make use of that pri-
vilege for himself, when it may be for his own profit ?

Those of the meaner sort are hindered by the strait-
ness of their fortunes from encouraging intemperance
in their children, by the temptation of their diet, or
invitations to eat or drink more than enough : but their
own ill examjjles, whenever plenty comes in their way,
show that it is not the dislike of drunkenness and glut-
tony that keeps them from excess, but want of materi-
als. But if we look into the houses of those who are
a little warmer in their fortunes, there eating and
drinking are made so much the great business and
happiness of life, that children are thought neglected,
if they have not their share of it. Sauces, and ragouts,
and foods disguised by all the arts of cookery, must
tempt their palates, when their bellies are full ; and
then, for fear the stomach should be overcharged, a
pretence is found for the other glass of wine, to help
digestion, though it only serves to increase the surfeit.

Is my young master a little out of order? the first
question is, " What will my dear eat ? what shall I get
for thee ?" Eating and drinking are instantly pressed :
and every body's invention is set on work to find out
something luscious and delicate enough to prevail over
that want of appetite, which nature lias wisely ordered
in the beginning of distempers, as a defence against
their increase ; that, being freed from the ordinaiy la-
bour of digesting any new load in the stomach, she
may be at leisure to correct and master the peccant
humours.

EARLY INFLUENCE.

59

And where children are so happy in the care of their
parents, as by their prudence to be kept from the ex-
cess of their tables, to the sobriety of a plain and sim-
ple diet ; yet there too they are scarce to be preserved
from the contagion that poisons the mind. Though
by a discreet management, whilst they are under tui-
tion, their healths, perhaps, maybe pretty well secured;
yet their desires must needs yield to the lessons, which
erery where will be read to them upon this part of
epicurism. The commendation that eating well has
every where, cannot fail to be a successful incentive to
natural appetite, and bring them quickly to the liking
and expense of a fashionable table. This shall have
from eveiy one, even the reprovers of vice, the title of
living well. And what shall sullen reason dare to say
against the public testimony ? or can it hope to be
heard, if it should call that luxuiy, which is so much
owned and universally practised by those of the best
quality ?

This is now so grown a vice, and has so great sup-
ports, that I know not whether it do not put in for the
name of virtue ; and whether it will not be thought
folly, or want of knowledge of the world, to open one's
mouth against it. And truly I should suspect, that
what I have here said of it might be censured, as a
little satire out of my way, did I not mention it with
this view, that it might awaken the care and watch-
fulness of parents in the education of their children ;
when they see how they are beset on eveiy side, not
only with temptations, but iustructers to vice, and that
perhaps in those they thought places of security.

I shall not dwell any longer on this subject ; much
less run over all the particulars, that would show what
pains, are used to corrupt children, and instill princi-
ples of vice into them : but I desire parents soberly to
consider what irregularity or vice there is which chil-

eo

dren are uot visibly taught ; and whether it be uot
their duty and wisdom to provide them other instruc-
tions.

§ 32. It seems plain to me, that the principle of all
virtue and excellencv lies in a power

CRAVING. /. 1 • 1 ' 1 • J •

of denymg ourselves the satisfaction
of our own desires, where reason does not authorize
them. This power is to be got and improved by cus-
tom, made easy and familiar by an early practice. If
therefore I might be heard, I would advise, that, con-
trary to the ordinary way, children should be used to
submit their desires, and go without their longings,
even from their veiy cradles. The veiy first thing
they should learn to know, should be, that they were
not to have any thing because it pleased them, but
because it was thought fit for them. If things suitable
to their wants were supplied to them so that they
were never suffered to have what they once cried for,
they would learn to be content without it ; would never
with bawling and peevishness contend for mastery ;
nor be half so uneasy to themselves and others as they
are, because from the fii-st beginning they are not thus
handled. If they were never suffered to obtain their
desire by the impatience they expressed for it, they
would no more cry for other things than they do for
the moon.

§ 33. I say not this as if children were not to be
indulged in any thing, or that I expected they should,
in hanging-sleeves, have the reason and conduct of
counselloi-s. I consider them as children, who must
be tenderly used, who must play, and have play-things.
That which I mean is, that whenever they craved what
was not fit for them to have, or do, they should not be
permitted it, because they were little and desired it :
nay, whatever they were importunate for, they should
be sure, for that very reason, to be denied. I have seen

EARLY REGULATION. 61

children at a table, who, whatever was there, never
asked for any thing, but contentedly took what was
given them : and at another place I have seen others
cry for every thing they saw, must be served out of
every dish, and that first too. What made this vast
difference but this, that one was accustomed to have
what they called or cried for, the other to go without
it? The younger they are, the less, I think, are their
unruly and disorderly appetites to be complied with ;
and the less reason they have of their own, the more
are they to be under the absolute power and restraint
of those in whose hands they are. From which I
confess, it will follow, that none but discreet people
should be about them. If the world commonly does
otherwise, I cannot help that. I am saying what I
think should be ; which, if it were already in fashion^
I should not need to trouble the world with a discourse
on this subject. But yet I doubt not but^ when it is
considered, there will be others of opinion with me,
that the sooner this way is begun with children, the
easier it will he for them, and their governors too ; and
that this ought to be observed as an inviolable maxim,
that whatever once is denied them, they are certainly
not to obtain by crying or importunity ; unless one has
a mind to teach them to be impatient and troublesome,
by rewarding them for it, when they are so.

§ 34. Those therefore that intend ever to govern
their children should begin it whilst
thev are verv little ; and look that

, ' r- ^^' 1 -^u .u 11 REGULATION.

they perlectly comply \vith the will
of their parents. Would you have your son obedient
to you, when past a child r Be sure then to establish
the authority of a father, as soon as he is capable of
submission, and can understand in whose power he is.
If you would have him stand in awe of you, imprint it
in his infancy ; and as he approaches more to a man^

62

admit him nearer to your familiarity : so shall you
have him your obedient subject, (as is fit,) whilst he is
a child, and your affectionate friend when he is a man.
For methinks they mightily misplace the treatment due
to their children, M'ho are indulgent and familiar w^hen
they are little, but severe to them, and keep them at a dis-
tance, when they are gronn up. For hberty and indul-
gence can do no good to children: their want of judg-
ment makes them stand in need of restraint and disci-
pline. And, on the contrary, imperiousness and se-
verity is but an ill way of treating men, who have rea-
son of their own to guide them, unless you have a
mind to make your children, when grown up, weary
of you ; and secretly to say, within themselves, "When
will you die, father ?"

§ 35. I imagine every one will judge it reasonable,
that their children, when little, should look upon their
parents as their lords, their absolute governors ; and,
as such, stand in awe of them: and that, when they
come to riper years, they should look on them as their
best, as their only sure friends : and, as such, love and
reverence them. The way I have mentioned, if I
mistake not, is the only one to obtain this. AVe must
look upon our children, when grown up, to be like
ourselves ; with the same passions, the same desires.
We would be thought rational creatures, and have our
freedom ; we love not to be uneasy under constant re-
bukes and brow- beatings ; nor can we bear severe
humours, and great distance, in those we converse with.
Whoever has such treatment when he is a man, will
look out other company, other friends, other conver-
sation, with whom he can be at ease. If therefore a
strict hand be kept over children from the beginning,
they will in that age be tractable, and quietly submit
to it, as never having known any other : and if, as they
grow up to the use of reason, the rigour of government

PUNISHMENTS. 63

be, as they desene it, gently relaxed, the father's brow
more smoothed to tliem, and the distance by degrees
abated : his former restraints \x\\\ increase their love,
when they tind it was only a kindness for them, and a
care to make them capable to deserve the favour of
their parents, and the esteem of every body else.

§ 36. Thus much for the settling your authority'
over children in general. Fear and awe ought to give
you the first power over their minds, and love and
friendship in riper years to hold it : for the time must
come, when they will be past the rod and correction ;
and then, if the love of you make them not obedient
and dutiful ; if the love of virtue and reputation keep
them not in laudable courses ; I ask, what hold will
you have upon them, to turn them to it ? Indeed, fear
of having a scanty portion, if they displease you, may
make them slaves to your estate ; but they will be nev-
ertheless ill and wicked in private, and that restraint
will not last always. Every man must some time or
other be trusted to himself, and his own conduct : and
he that is a good, a virtuous, and able man, must b«
made so within. And therefore, what he is to receive
from education, what is to sway and influence his life,
must be something put into him betimes : habits woven
into the ver\' principles of his nature: and not a coun-
terfeit carriage, and dissembled outside, put on by fear,
only to avoid the present anger of a father, who per-
haps may disinherit him.

§ 37. This being laid down in general, as the course
ouffht to be taken, it is fit we come

* ., , . r- .u J- PUNISHMENTS.

now to consider the parts oi the dis-
cipline to be used, a little more particularly. I have
spoken so much of carrving a strict hand over chil-
dren, that perhaps I shall be suspected of not consid-
ering enough what is due to their tender age and con-
stitutions. But that opinion will vanish, when you

64 LOCKE.

have heard me a httle farther. For I am very apt to
think, that great severity of punishment does but very
httle good ; nay, great Jiarm in education : and I be-
heve it will be found, that, cseteris paribus, those chil-
dren who have been most chastised, seldom make the
best men. All that I have hitherto contended for,^is,
that whatsoever rigour is necessaiy, it is more to be
used, the younger children are ; and, having by a due
application wrought its effect, it is to be relaxed, and
changed into a milder sort of government.

§ 38, A compliance, and suppleness of their wills,
being by a steady hand introduced
by parents, before children have
memories to retain the beginnings of it, will seem nat-
ural to them, and work afterwards in them, as if it
were so; preventing all occasions of struggling, or re-
pining. The only care is, that it be begun early, and
mfiexibly kept to, till awe and respect be grown famil-
iar, and there appears not the least reluctancy in the
submission and ready obedience of their minds. When
tliis reverence is once thus established, (which it must
be early, or else it will cost pains and blows to recover
it, and the more, the longer it is deferred,) it ia by it,
mixed still with as much indulgence as they made not
an ill use of, and not by beating, chiding, or other ser-
vile punishments, they are for the future to be gov-
erned, as they grow up to more understanding.

§ 39. That this is so, will be easily allowed, when
it is but considered what is to be

SELF-DENIAL. . , . . , .

amied at, m an mgenuous education ;
and upon what it turns,

1. He that has not a mastery over his inclinations,
he that knows not how to resist the importunity of
present pleasure or pain, for the sake of what reason
tells him is fit to be done, wants the true principle of
virtue and industry ; and is in danger of never being

BEATING. 65

good for any thing. This temper, therefore, so con-
trary to unguided nature, is to be got betimes ; and this
habit, as the true foundation of future abihty and hap-
piness, is to be wrought into the mind, as early as may
be, even from the first dawniugs of any knowledge or
apprehension in children ; and so to be confirmed in
them, by all the care and ways imaginable, by those
who have the oversight of their education.

§ 40. 2. On the other side, if the mind be curbed,
and humbled too much in children;
if their spirits be abased and broken
much, by too strict an hand over them ; they lose all
their vigour and industry-, and are in a worse state
than the former. For extravagant young fellows, that
have liveliness and spirit, come sometimes to be set
right, and so make able and great men : but dejected
minds, timorous and tame, and low spirits, are hardly
ever to be raised, and very seldom attain to any thing.
To avoid the danger that is on either hand is the great
art : and he that has found a way how to keep up a
child's spirit, easy, active, and free ; and yet, at the
same time, to restrain him from many things he has a
mind to, and to draw him to things that are uneasy to
him ; he, I say, that knows how to reconcile these
seeming contradictions, has, in my opinion, got the
true secret of education,

§ 41. The usual lazy and short way, chastisement,
and the rod, which is the only instru-
ment of government that tutors gen-
erally know, or ever think of, is the most unfit of any
to be used in education ; because it tends to both those
mischiefs; which, as we have shown, are the Scylla
and Charj'bdis, which, on the one hand or the other,
ruin all that miscan-y.

§ 4^. 1. This Idnd of punishment contributes not
at all to the masterv of our natural propensity to iu-
E

66 LOCKE.

dulge corporal and present pleasure, and to avoid paii
at any rate ; but rather encourages it ; and thereby
strengthens that in us, which is the root, from whence
spring all vicious actions and the irregularities of life.
From what other motive, but of sensual pleasure, and-
pain, does a child act, who drudges at his book against
his inclination, or abstains from eating unwholesome
fruit, that he takes pleasure in, only out of fear of
whipping? He in this only prefers the greater cor-
poral pleasure, or avoids the greater corporal pain.
And what is it to govern his actions, and direct his con-
duct, by such motives as these? what is it, I say, but
to cherish that pruiciple in him, which it is our business
to root out and destroy ? And therefore I cannot think
any correction useful to a child, where the shame of
suffering for having done amiss does not work more
upon him than the pain.

§ 43. 2. This sort of correction naturally breeds an
aversion to that which it is the tutor's business to
create a liking to. How obvious is it to observe, that
children come to hate things which were at first accep-
table to them, when they find themselves whipped, and
chid, and teazed about them ? And it is not to be
wondered at in them ; when grown men would not be
able to be reconciled to any thing by such ways. Who
is there that would not be disgusted with any innocent
recreation, in itself indifferent to him, if he should with
blows or ill language, be hauled to it, when he had no
mind ? or be constantly so treated, for some circum-
stances in his application to it ? This is natural to be
so. Offensive circumstances ordinarily infect innocent
things, which they are joined with : and the very sight
of a cup, wherein any one uses to take nauseous
physic, turns his stomach ; so that nothing will rehsh
well out of it, though the cup be ever so clean, and
well shaped, and of the richest materials.

REWARDS. 67

§ 44. 3. Such a sort of slavish discipHne makes a
slavish temper. The child submits, and dissembles
obedience, whilst the fear of the rod hangs over him;
but when that is removed, and by being out of sight,
he can promise himself impunity, he gives the greater
scope to his natural inclination ; which by this way is
not at all altered, but on the contrary heightened and
increased in him ; and after such restraint, breaks out
usually with the more violence. Or,

§ 45. 4. If severity carried to the highest pitch
does prevail, and works a cure upon the present unruly
distemper, it is often bringing in the room of it worse
and more dangerous disease, by breaking the mind ;
and then, in the place of a disorderly young fellow, you
have a low-spirited, moped creature : who, however
with his unnatural sobriety he may please silly people,
who commend tame inactive children, because they
make no noise, nor give them any trouble ; yet, at last,
will probably prove as uncomfortable a thing to his
friends, as he will be, all his life, an useless thing to
himself and others.

§ 46. Beating then, and all other sorts of slavish and
corporal punishments, are not the

J. . 1- V, , 1 ^ • .1 J REWARDS.

discipline fit to be usea m the edu-
cation of those who would have wise, good, and in-
genuous men ; and therefore veiy rarely to be applied,
and that only on great occasions, and cases of extremity.
On the other side, to flatter children by rewards of things
that are pleasant to them, is as carefully to be avoided.
He that will give to his son apples, sugar plums, or
what else of this kind he is most delighted with, to
make him learn his book, does but authorise his love
of pleasure, and cocker up that dangerous propensity,
which he ought by all means to subdue and stifle in
him. You can never hope to teach him to master it,
whilst you compound for the check vou give his incli-
e2

QS LOCKE.

nation in one place, by the satisfaction you propose to
it in another. To make a good, a wise, and a virtu-
ous man, it is fit he should learn to cross his appetite,
and deny his inclination to riches, finery, or pleasing his
palate, &c. whenever his reason advises the contrary,
and his duty requires it. But when you draw him to
do any thing that is fit, by the offer of money ; or re-
ward the pains of learning his book, by the pleasure of
a luscious morsel ; when you promise him a lace-cra-
vat, or a fine new suit, upon performance of some of
his little tasks ; what do you, by ])roposing these as
rewards, but allow them to be the good things he shoidd
aim at, and thereby encourage his longing for them,
and accustom him to place his happiness in them ?
Thus people, to prevail with children to be industrious
about their grammar, dancing, or some other such mat-
ter, of no great moment to the happiness or usefulness
of their lives, by misapplied rewards and punishments,
sacrifice their virtue, invert the order of their educa-.
tion, and teach them luxury, pride, or covetousness,
&c. For in this way, flattering those wrong inclina-
tions, which they should restrain and suppress, they
lay the foundations of those future vices, which cannot
be avoided, but by curbing our desires, and accustom-
ing them early to submit to reason.

§ 47. I say not this, that I w^ould have children
kept from the conveniences or pleasures of life, that
are not injurious to their health or virtue : on the con-
trary, I would have their lives made as pleasant and as
agreeable to tliem as may be, in a plentiful enjoyment
of whatsoever might innocently delight them : provided
it be with this caution, that the}' have those enjoy-
ments only as the consequences of the state of esteem
and acceptation they are in with their parents and
governors; but they should never be offered or be-
stowed on them as the reward of this or that particular

REWARDS. 69

performance that they show an aversion to, or to
which they would not have applied themselves with-
out that temptation.

§ 48. But if you take away the rod on one hand,
and these little encouragements, which they are taken
with, on the other ; how then, (will you say,) shall chil-
dren be governed ? Remove hope and fear, and there
is an end of all discipline. I grant that good and evil,
reward and punishment, are the only motives to a
rational creature ; these are the spur and reins, wiiere-
by all mankind are set on work and guided, and there-
fore they are to be made use of to children too. For
I advise their parents and governors always to carry
this in their minds, that children are to be treated as
rational creatures.

<§ 49. Rewards, I grant, and punishments must be
proposed to children, if we intend to work upon them.
The mistake, I imagine, is, that those that are generally
made use of, are ill chosen. The pains and pleasures
of the body are, I think, of ill consequence, when
made the rewards and punishments whereby men
would prevail on their children: for, as I said before,
they serve but to increase and strengthen those inclina-
tions, which it is our business to subdue and master.
What principle of virtue do you lay in a child, if you
will redeem his desires of one pleasure by the proposal
of another ? This is but to enlarge his appetite, and
instruct it to wander. If a child cries for an unwhole-
some and dangerous fruit, you purchase his quiet by
giving him a less hurtful sweetmeat. This perhaps
may preserve his health, but spoils his mind, and sets
that farther out of order. For here you only change
the object ; but flatter still his appetite, and allow that
must be satisfied, wherein, as I have showed, lies the
root of the mischief: and till you bring him to be able
to bear a denial of that satisfaction, the child may at

70

present be quiet and orderly, but the disease is not
cured. By this way of proceeding you foment and
cherish in him that which is the spring, from whence
all the evil flows ; which will be sure on the next oc-
casion to break again out with more violence, give him
stronger longings, and you more trouble.

§ 50. The rewards and punishments, then, whereby
we should keep children in order are

REPUTATIO-X. . ^ ,11 1 i- 1 .

quite of another kind ; and of that
force, that when we can get them once to work, the
business, I think, is done, and the difficulty is over.
Esteem and disgrace are, of all others, the most pow-
erful incentives to the mind, when once it is brought
to relish them. If you can once get into children a
love of credit, and an apprehension of shame and dis-
grace, you have put into them the true principle, which
will constantly work, and incline them to the right
But, it will be asked. How shall this be done ?

I confess, it does not, at first appearance, w^ant some
difficulty ; but yet I think it worth our while to seek
the ways, (and practise them when found,) to attain
this, which I look on as the great secret of education.

§ 51. First, children, (earlier perhaps than we think,)
are very sensible of praise and commendation. They
find a pleasure in being esteemed and valued, especially
by their parents, and those whom they depend on. If,
therefore the father caress and commend them, when
they do well ; show a cold and neglectful countenance
to them upon doing ill ; and this accompanied by a
like carriage of the mother, and all others that are
about them ; it will in a little time make them sensible
of the difference : and this, if constandy observed, I
doubt not but will of itself work more than threats or
blows, which lose their force, when once grown com-
mon, and are of no use when shame does not attend
them ; and therefore are to be forborne, and never to

REPUTATION. 71

be used, but in the case hereafter mentioned, when
it is brought to extremity.

§ 52. But, secondly, to make the sense of esteem or
disgrace sink the deeper, and be of the more weiglit,
other agreeable or disagreeable things should constantly
accompany these different states ; not as particular re-
wards and punishments of this or that particular action,
but as necessarily belonging to, and constantly attend-
ing one, who by his carriage has brought himself into
a state of disgrace or commendation. By which way
of treating them, children may as much as possible be
brought to conceive, that those that are commended
and in esteem for doing well, will necessarily be be-
loved and cherished by every body, and have all other
good things as a consequence of it; and, on the other
side, when any one by miscarriage falls into dis-esteem,
and cares not to preserve his credit, he will unavoida-
bly fall under neglect and contempt: and in that state,
the want of whatever might satisfy or dehght him, will
follow. In this way the objects of their desires are
made assisting to vutue ; when a settled experience
from the beginning teaches children, that the things
they delight in, belong to, and are to be enjoyed by
those only, who are in a state of reputation. If by
these means you can come once to shame them out of
their faults, (for besides that, I would willingly have
no punishment,) and make them in love with the
pleasure of being well thought on, you may turn them
as you please, and they will be in love with all the
ways of virtue.

§ 5.3. The great difficulty here is, I imagine, from
the folly and pers-erseness of servants, who are hardly
to be hindered from crossing herein the design of the
father and mother. Children, discountenanced by their
parents for any fault, tind usually a refuge and relief in
the caresses of those foolish flatterers who thereby undo

72 LOCKE.

whatever the parents endeavour to estabhsh. When
the father or mother looks sour on the child, every
body else should put on the same coldness to hUn, and
nobody give him countenance, till forgiveness asked,
and a reformation of his fault, has set him right again,
and restored him to his former credit. If this were
constantly observed, I guess there would be little need
of blows or chiding : their own ease and satisfaction
would quickly teach children to court commendation,
and avoid doing that which they found ever>^ body
condemned, and they were sure to suffer for, without
being chid or beaten. This would teach them modesty
and shame ; and they would quickly come to have a
natural abhorrence for that, which they found made
them slighted and neglected by ever}- body. But how
this inconvenience from servants is to be remedied, I
must leave to parents' care and consideration. Only I
think it of great importance ; and that they are very
happy, who can get discreet people about their chil-
dren.

§ 54. Frequent beating or chiding is therefore care-
fully to be avoided ; because this sort

^ •' . ' J SHAME.

01 correction never produces any
good, farther than it senses to raise shame, and ab-
horrence of the miscarriage that brought it on them.
And if the greatest part of the trouble be not the
sense that they have done amiss, and the apprehen-
sion that they have drawn on themselves the just dis-
pleasure of their best friends, the pain of whipping will
work but an imperfect cure. It only patches up for
the present, and skins it over, but reaches not to the
bottom of the sore. Ingenuous shame, and the appre-
hension of displeasure, are the only true restraints :
these alone ought to hold the reins, and keep the child
in order. But corjioral punishments must necessarily
lose that effect, and wear out the sense of shame,

REPUTATION. /tJ

where they frequently return. Shame in children has
the same place that modesty has in women ; which
cannot be kept, and often transgressed against. And as
to the apprehension of displeasure in the parents, they
will come to be insignificant, if the marks of that dis-
pleasure quickly cease, and a few blows fully expiate.
Parents should well consider, what faults in their chil-
dren are weighty enough to deserv^e the declaration of
their anger: but when their displeasure is once declar-
ed to a degree that carries any punishment with it,
they ought not presently to lay by the severity of their
braws, but to restore their children to their former grace
with some difficulty ; and delay a full reconciliation,
till their conformity, and more than ordinary merit,
make good their amendment. If this be not so ordered,
punishment will, by familiarity, become a mere thing
of course, and lose all its influence : offending, being
chastised and then forgiven, will be thought as natural
and necessary as noon, night, and morning, following
one another.

§ 55. Concerning reputation, I shall only remark this
one thing more of it ; that though it

, P • • , n REPUTATION.

be not the true principle and meas-
ure of virtue, (for that is the knowledge of a man's
duty, and the satisfaction it is to obey his Maker, in fol-
lowing the dictates of that light God has given him,
with the hopes of acceptation and reward,) yet it is that
which comes nearest to it : and being the testimony
and applause that other people's reason, as it were by
a common consent, gives to virtuous and well-ordered
actions, it is the proper guide and encouragement of
children, till they grow able to judge for themselves,
and to find what is right by their own reason.

§ 56. This consideration may direct parents, how
to manage themselves in reproving and commending
their children. The rebukes and chiding, which their

74

LOCKE.

faults will sometimes make hardly to be avoided,
should not only be in sober, grave and unpassionate
words, but also alone and in private : but the commen-
dations children deserve they should receive before
others. This doubles the reward, by spreading their
praise ; but the backwardness parents show in divulg-
ing their faults, will make them set a greater value on
their credit themselves, and teach them to be the more
careful to preserve the good opinion of others, whilst
they think they have it : but when, being exposed to
shame, by publishing their miscarriages, they give it up
for lost, that check upon them is taken off; and they
will be the less careful to preserve others' good thoughts
of them, the more they suspect that their reputation
with them is already blemished.

§ 57. But if a right course be taken with children,
there will not be so much need of

CHILDISHNESS. , ,- • z- ,

the application or the common re-
wards and punishments, as we imagined, and as the
general practice has established. For all their inno-
cent folly, playing, and childish actions, are to be left
perfectly free and unrestrained, as far as they can con-
sist with the respect due to those that are present ; and
that with the greatest allowance. If these faults of
their age, rather than of the children themselves, were,
as they should be, left only to time, and imitation, and
riper years to cure, children would escape a great deal
of misapplied and useless correction ; which either fails
to overpower the natural disposition of their childhood,
and so, by an ineffectual familiarity, makes correction
in other necessary cases of less use ; or else if it be of
force to restrain the natural gaiety of that age, it serves
only to spoil the temper both of body and mind. If
the noise and bustle of their play prove at any time
inconvenient, or unsuitable to the place or company
they are in, (which can only be where their parents

RULES. 75

are,) a look or a word from the father or mother, if they
have estabhshed the authority they should, will be
euough either to remove, or quiet them for that time.
But this gamesome humour, which is wisely adapted
by nature to their age and temper, should rather be en-
couraged, to keep up their spirits and improve their
strength and health, than curbed or restrained ; and the
chief art is to make all that they have to do, sport and
play too.

§ 58. And here give me leave to take notice of one
thing I think a fault in the ordinan^
method of education ; and that is, the
charging of children's memories, upon all occasions,
with rules and precepts, which they often do not un-
derstand, and are constantly as soon forgot as given.
If it be some action you would have done, or done oth-
erwise ; whenever they forget, or do it awkwardly,
make them do it over and over again, till they are per-
fect ; whereby you will get these two advantages : first,
to see ^A■hether it be an action they can do, or is fit to
be expected of them. For sometimes children are bid
to do things, which upon trial, they are found not able
to do ; and had need be taught and exercised in, be-
fore they are required to do them. But it is much
easier for a tutor to command than to teach. Second-
ly, another thing got by it will be this, that by repeating
the same action, till it be grown habitual in them, the
performance will not depend on memory, or reflection,
the concomitant of prudence and age, and not of child-
hood ; but will be natural in them. Thus, bowing to
a gentleman when he salutes him, and looking in his
face when he speaks to him, is by constant use as nat-
ural to a well-bred man, as breathing ; it requires no
thought, no reflection. Having this way cured in your
child any fault, it is cured for ever : and thus, one by
one, you may weed them out all, and plant what hab-
its you please.

76

§ 59. I have seen parents so heap rules on their
children, that it was impossible for the poor little ones
to remember a tenth part of them, much less to observe
them. However, they were either by words or blows
corrected for the breach of those multiplied and often
very impertinent precepts. Whence it naturally fol-
lowed, that the children minded not what was said to
them ; when it was evident to them, that no attention
they were capable of, was sufficient to preserve them
from transgression, and the rebukes which followed it.

Let, therefore, your rules to your son be as few as is
possible, and rather fewer than more than seem abso-
lutely necessary. For if you burden him with many
rules, one of these two things must necessarily follow,
that either he must be very often punished, which will
be of ill consequence, by making punishment too fre-
quent and familiar ; or else you must let the transgres-
sions of some of your rules go unpunished, whereby
they will of course grow contemptible, and your au-
thority become cheap to him. Make but few laws, but
see they be well observed, when once made. Few
years require but few laws ; and as his age increases,
when one rule is by practice well established, you may
add another.

§ 60. But pray remember, children are not to be
taught by rules, which will be always slipping out of
their memories. What you think necessary for them
to do, settle in them by an indispensable practice, as
often as the occasion returns ; and, if it be possible,
make occasions. This will beget

HABITS

habits in them, which, being once
established, operate of themselves easily and naturally,
without the assistance of the memory. But here let
me give two cautions : 1. The one is, that you keep
them to the practice of what you would have grow into
a habit in them, by kind words and gentle admonitions,
rather as minding thera of what they forget, than by

TRACTICE. 77

harsh rebukes and chiding, as if they were wilfully
guilty. 2dly, Another thing you are to take care of, is,
not to endeavour to settle too many habits at once, lest
by a variety you confound them, and so perfect none.
When constant custom has made any one thing easy
and natural to them, and they practise it without re-
flection, you may then go on to another.

This method of teaching children by a repeated
practice, and the same action done

^ ' . 1 , PRACTICE.

over and over agam, under the eye
and direction of the tutor, till they have got the habit
of doing it well, and not by relying on rules trusted to
their memories ; has so many advantages, which way
soever we consider it, that I cannot but wonder, (if ill
customs could be wondered at in any thing,} how it
could possibly be so much neglected. I shall name
one more that comes now in my way. By this method
we shall see, whether what is required of him be adapt-
ed to his capacity, and any way suited to the child's
natural genius and constitution : for that too must be
considered in a right education. We must not hop&
wholly to change their original tempers, nor make the
gay pensive and grave, nor the melancholy sportive,
without spoiling them. God has stamped certain char-
actere upon men's minds, which, hke their shapes, may
perhaps be a little mended; but can hardly be totally
altered and transformed into the contrary.

He therefore, that is about children, should well
study their natures and aptitudes, and see, by often
trials, what turn they easily take, and what becomes
them ; observe what their native stock is, how it may
be improved, and what it is fit for : he should consider
what they want, whether they be capable of having it
wrought into them by industry, and incorporated there
by practice ; and whether it be worth while to endea-
vour it. For, in many cases, all that we can do, or

78

should aim at, is, to make the best of what nature has
given, to prevent the vices and fauks to which such a
constitution is most inchned, and give it all the advan-
tages it is capable of. Every one's natural genius
should be carried as far as it could ; but to attempt the
putting another upon him, will be but labour in vain ;
and what is so plastered on will at best sit but unto-
wardly, and have always hanging to it the ungraceful-
ness of constraint and affectation.

Affectation is not, I confess, an early fault of child-
hood, or the product of untaught na-

AFFECTATIO>-. ^ . . r\ . ^ c i U'^U

ture : it is of that sort of weeds which
grow not in the wild uncultivated waste, but in garden-
plots, under the negligent hand, or unskilt^il care of a
gardener. Management and instruction, and some
sense of the necessity of breeding, are requisite to make
any one capable of affectation, which endeavours to cor-
rect natural defects, and has always the laudable aim
of pleasing, though it always misses it ; and the more
it labours to put on gracefulness, the farther it is from
it. For this reason it is the more carefully to be watch-
ed, because it is the proper fault of education ; a per-
verted education indeed, but such as young people of-
ten fall into, either by their own mistake, or the ill con-
duct of those about them.

He that will examine wherein that gracefulness lies,
which always pleases, will find it arises from that nat-
ural coherence, which appears between the thing done,
and such a temper of mind as cannot but be approved
of as suitable to the occasion. We cannot but be
pleased with an humane, friendly, civil temper, where-
ever we meet with it. A mind free, and master of it-
self and all its actions, not low and narrow, not haughty
and insolent, not blemished with any great defect ; is
what every one is taken with. The actions, which
naturally flow from such a well-formed mind, please

AFFECTATIO'. 79

US also, as the genuine marks of it ; and being, as it
were, natural emanations from the spirit and disposi-
tion within, cannot but be easy and unconstrained.
This seems to me to be that beauty, which shines
through some men's actions, sets off all that they do,
and takes with all they come near ; when by a constant
practice they have fashioned their carriage, and made
all those little expressions of civiUty and respect, which
nature or custom has established in conversation, so
easy to themselves, that they seem not artificial or
studied, but naturally to follow from a sweetness of
mind and a well-turned disposition.

On the other side, affectation is an awkward and
forced imitation of what should be genuine and easy,
wanting the beauty that accompanies what is natural ;
because there is always a disagreement between the
outward action and the mind within, one of these two
ways : 1. Either when a man would outwardly put on
a disposition of mind, which then he really has not, but
endeavours by a forced carriage to make show of; yet
so, that the constraint he is under discovers itself: and
thus men affect sometimes to appear sad, merrj", or
kind, when, in truth, they are not so.

2. The other is, when they do not endeavour to
make show of dispositions of mind which they have
not, but to express those they have by a carriage not
suited to them : and such in conversation are all con-
strained motions, actions, words, or looks, which,
though designed to show either their respect or civility
to the company, or their satisfaction and easiness in it,
are not yet natural nor genuine marks of the one or
the other ; but rather of some defect or mistake within.
Imitation of others, w ithout discerning what is grace-
ful in them, or what is peculiar to their characters, of-
ten makes a great part of this. But affectation of all
kinds, whencesoever it proceeds, is always offensive ;

80 LOCKE.

because we natural!)' hate whatever is counterfeit ; and
condemn those who have nothing better to recommend
themselves by.

Plain and rough nature, left to itself, is much better
than an aitificial ungracefulness, and such studied ways
of being ill-fashioned. The want of an accomplish-
ment, or some defect in our behaviour, coming short
of the utmost gracefulness, often escapes observation
and censure. But affectation in any part of our car-
riage is lighting up a candle to our defects ; and never
fails to make us be taken notice of, either as wanting
sense, or wanting sincerity. This governors ought the
more diligently to look after, because, as I above ob-
served, it is an acquired ugliness, owing to mistaken
education ; few being guilty of it, but those who pre-
tend to breeding, and would not be thought ignorant
of what is fashionable and becoming in convereation :
and, if I mistake not, it has often its rise from the lazy
admonitions of those who give rules, and j)ropose ex-
amples, without joining practice with their instructions,
and making their pupils repeat the action in their sight,
that they may correct what is indecent or constrained
in it, till it be perfected into an habitual and becoming
easiness.

§ 61. Manners, as they call it, about which children
are so often perplexed, and have so
many goodly exhortations made them,
by their wise maids and governesses, I think are rath-
er to be learned by example than rules ; and then chil-
dren, if kept out of ill company, will take a pride to
behave themselves prettily, after the fashion of others,
perceiving themselves esteemed and commended for it.
But if, by a little negligence in this part, the boy should
not put off his hat, nor make legs very gracefully, a
dancing-master wdl cure that defect, and wipe off all
that plainness of nature, which the a-la-mode people

DAXCING. 81

call clownishness. And since nothing appears to me
to give children so much hecoraing confidence and be-
haviour, and so to raise them to the conversation of
those above their age, as dancing ; I
think they should be taught to dance,
as soon as they are capable of learning it. For, though
this consist only in outward gracefulness of motion,
yet, I know not how, it gives children manly thoughts
and carriage, more than any thing. But otherwise I
would not have little children much tormented about
punctiUos, or niceties of breeding.

Never trouble yourself about those faults in them
which you know age will cure. And therefore want of
well-fashioned civility in the carriage, whilst civility is
not wanting in the mind, (for there you must take care
to plant it early,) should be the parent's least care,
whilst they are young. If his tender mind be filled
with a veneration for his parents and teachers, which
consists in love and esteem, and a fear to oflfend them ;
and with respect and good-will to all people ; that re-
spect will of itself teach those ways of expressing it
which he observes most acceptable. Be sure to keep
up in him the principles of good-nature and kindness ;
make them as habitual as you can, by credit and com-
mendation, and the good things accompanying that
state : and when they have taken root in his mind, and
are settled there by a continued practice, fear not; the
ornaments of conversation, and the outside of fashion-
able manners, will come in their due time, if, when
they are removed out of their maid's care, they are put
into the hands of a well-bred man to be their governor.

Whilst they arc very young, any carelessness is to
be borne with in children, that carries not with it the
marks of pride or ill-nature ; but those, whenever they
appear in any action, are to be corrected immediately,
by the ways above mentioned. What I have said con-
F

82 LOCKE.

cerning manners, I would not have so understood, as
if I meant that tliose who have the judgment to do it,
should not gently fashion the motions and carriage of
children when they are very young. It would be of
great advantage, if they had people about them, from
their being first able to go, that had the skill, and
would take the right way to do it. That which I com-
plain of is the wrong course that is usually taken in
this matter. Children who were never taught any
such thing as behaviour, are often, (especially when
strangers are present,) chid for having some way or
other failed in good manners, and have thereupon re-
proofs and precepts heaped upon them, concerning put-
ting off their hats, or making of legs, &c. Though in
this those concerned pretend to correct the child, yet,
in truth, for the most part, it is but to cover their own
shame : and they lay the blame on the poor little ones,
sometimes passionately enough, to divert it from them-
selves, for fear the by-standers should impute to their
want of care and skill the cliild's ill behaviour.

For, as for the children themselves, they are never
one jot bettered by such occasional lectures : they at
other times should be showii what to do, and by reite-
rated actions, be fashioned beforehand into the practice
of what is fit and becoming : and not told, and talked
to do upon the spot, what they have never been accus-
tomed to, nor know how to do as they should : to hare
and rate them thus at every turn, is not to teach them,
but to vex and torment them to no purpose. They
should be let alone, rather than chid for a fault, which
is none of theii-s, nor is in their power to mend for
speaking to. And it were much better their natural,
childish negligence, or plainness, should be left to the
care of riper years, than that they should frequently
have rebukes misplaced upon them, which neither do
nor can give them ffraccful motions. If their minds

are well disposed, and principled with inward civility,
a great part of the roughness, which sticks to the out-
side for want of hetter teaching, time and observation
will rub off, as they grow up, if they are bred in good
company, but if in ill, all the rules in the world, all the
correction imaginable, will not be able to polish them.
For you must take this for a certain truth, that let them
have what instructions you will, and ever so learned
lectures of breeding daily inculcated into them, that
which will most influence their can-iage will be the
company they converse with, and the fashion of those
about them. Children, (nay, and men too,) do most
by example. We are all a sort of chameleons, that
still take a tincture from things near us : nor is it to be
wondered at in cliildren, who better understand what
they see than what they hear.

§ G2. I mentioned above, one great mischief that
came by servants to children, when by their flatteries
they take oflt" the edge and force of the parents' re-
bukes, and so lessen their authority. And here is an-
other great inconvenience, which children receive from
the ill examples which they meet with amongst the
meaner servants.

They are wholl}', if possible, to be kept from such
conversation: for the contagion of these ill precedents,
both in civility and virtue, horribly infects children, as
often as they come within reach of it. They frequent-
ly learn, from unbred or debauched servants, such lan-
guage, untowardly tricks and vices, as otherwise they
possibly would be ignorant of all their lives.

§ 63. It is a hard matter wholly to prevent this mis-
chief. You will have very good luck, if you never
have a clownish or vicious servant, and if from them
your children never get any infection. But yet as
much must be done towards it as can be : and the chil-
dren kept as much as may be in the companv of their
r2

84 LOCKE.

)arents,* and those to whose care they are committed.
To this purpose, their being in their presence should
be made easy to them : they sliould be allowed the
liberties and freedom suitable to their ages, and not be
held under unnecessary restraints, when in their pa-
rents' or governor's sight. If it be a prison to them,
it is no wonder they should not hke it. They must
not be hindered from being children, or from playing,
or doing as children ; but from doing ill. All other
liberty is to be allowed them. Next,
to make them m love with the com-
pany of their parents, they should receive all their good
things there, and from their hands. The servants
should be hindered from making court to them, by giv-
ing them strong drink, wine, fruit, play-things, and
other such matters, which may make them in love with
their conversation.

§ 64. Having named company, I am almost ready
to throw away my pen, and trouble you no farther
on this subject. For since that does more than all
precepts, rules and instructions, methinks it is almost
wholly in vain to make a long discourse of other things,
and to talk of that almost to no purpose. For you will
be ready to say, " What shall I do with my son ? If I
keep him always at home, he will be in danger to be
my young master ; and if I send him abroad, how is
it possible to keep him from the contagion of rudeness
and vice, which is every where so in fashion ? In my
house he will perhaps be more innocent, but more ig-
norant too of the world : wanting there change of com-
pany, and being used constantly to the same faces, he

^ How much the Romans thought the education of their
children a business that properly belonged to the parents
themselves, see in Suetonius, August. Sect. 64. Plutarch in
Vita Catonis Censoris ; Diodorus Siculus,!. 2. cap. 3.

COMPANY. 85

will, when lie comes abroad, be a sheepish or conceit-
ed creature."

I confess, both sides have their inconveniences.
Being abroad, it is true, will make him bolder, and bet-
ter able to bustle and shift amongst boys of his own
age ; and the emulation of school-fellows often puts
life and industry' into young lads. But till you can
find a school, wherein it is possible for the master to
look after the manners of his scholars, and can show as
great effects of his care of forming their minds to vir-
tue, and their carriage to good breeding, as of forming
their tongues to the learned languages ; you must con-
fess, that you have a strange value for words, when,
preferring the languages of the ancient Greeks and
Romans to that which made them such brave men, you
think it worth wliile to hazard your son's innocence
and virtue for a httle Greek and Latin. For, as for
that boldness and spirit w'hich lads get amongst their
play-fellows at school, it has ordinarily such a mixture
of rudeness and an ill-turned confidence, that those
misbecoming and disingenuous w^ays of shifting in the
world must be unlearned, and all the tincture washed
out again, to make way for better principles, and such
manners as make a truly worthy man. He that con-
siders how diametrically opposite the skill of living
well, and managing, as a man should do, his affairs in
the world, is to that malapertness, tricking, or violence,
learnt among schoolboys, will think the faults of a pri-
vater education, infinitely to be prefeiTed to such im-
provements ; and will take care to preserve his child's
innocence and modesty at home, as being nearer of
kin, and more in the way of those qualities, which
make an useful and able man. Nor does any one find,
or so much as suspect, that that retirement and bash-
fulness, which their daughters are brought up in,
makes them less knowing or less able women. Con-

86 LOCKE.

versatioii, when they come into the world, soon gives
theui a becoming assurance ; and whatsoever, beyond
that, there is of rough and boisterous, may in men be
very well spared too ; for courage and steadiness, as I
take it, lie not in roughness and ill breeding.

Virtue is harder to be got than a knowledge of the
world ; and, if lost in a young man, is seldom recover-
ed. Sheepishness and ignorance of the world, the
faults imputed to a private education, are neither the
necessary consequences of being bred at home ; nor, if
they were, are they incurable evils. Vice is the more
stubborn, as well as the more dangerous evil of the
two ; and therefore, in the first place, to be fenced
against. If that sheepish softness, which often ener-
vates those who are bred hke fondlings at home, be
carefully to be avoided, it is principally so for virtue's
sake ; for fear lest such a yielding temper should be
too susceptible of vicious impressions, and expose the
novice too easily to be corrupted. A young man, be-
fore he leaves the shelter of his father's house, and the
guard of a tutor, should be fortified with resolution, and
made acquainted with men, to secure his virtue ; lest
he should be led into some ruinous course, or fatal
precipice, before he is sufficiently acquainted with the
dangers of conversation, and has steadiness enough not
to yield to every temptation. Were it not for this, a
young man's bash fulness and ignorance of the world
would not so much need an early care. Conversation
would cure it in a great measure ; or, if that will not
do it early enough, it is only a stronger reason for a
good tutor at home. For, if pains be to be taken to
give him a manly air and assurance betimes, it is chiefly
as a fence to his virtue, when he goes into the world,
under his own conduct.

It is preposterous, therefore, to sacrifice his inno-
cency to the attaining of confidence, and some little

COMPANY. 87

skill of bustling for himself among others, by his con-
versation with ill-bred and vicious boys ; when the
chief use of that sturdiness, and standing upon his own
legs, is only for the preservation of his virtue. For if
confidence or cunning come once to mix with vice,
and support his miscarriages, he is only the surer lost ;
and you must undo agam, and strip him of that he lias
got from his companions, or give him up to ruin. Boys
will unavoidably be taught assurance by conversation
with men, when they are brought into it ; and that is
time enough. Modest)^ and submission, till then, better
fits them for instruction ; and therefore there needs not
any great care to stock them with confidence before-
hand. That which requires most time, pains, and as-
siduity, is to work into them the principles and practice
of virtue and good breeding. This is the seasoning
they should be prepared with, so as not easily to be got
out again : this they had need to be well provided
with. For conversation, when they come into the
w^orld, will add to their knowledge and assurance, but
be too apt to take from their virtue : which therefore
they ought to be plentifully stored with, and have that
tincture sunk deep into them.

How they should be fitted for conversation, and en-
tered into the world, when they are ripe for it, we shall
consider in another place. But how any one's being
put into a mixed herd of unruly boys, and there learn-
ing to wrangle at trap, or rook at span-farthing, fits
him for civil conversation or business, I do not see.
And what qualities are ordinarily to be got from such
a troop of play-fellows as schools usually assemble to-
gether from parents of all kinds, that a father should
so much covet it, is hard to divine. I am sure, he who
is able to be at the charge of a tutor at home, may
there give his son a more genteel carriage, more manly
thoughts, and a sense of what is worthy and becoming,

88 LOCKE.

with a greater proficiency iu learning into the bargain,
and ripen him up sooner into a man, than any at school
c^n do. Not that I blame the schoolmaster in this, or
think it to be laid to his charge. The difference is
gi*eat between two or three pupils in the same house,
and three or four score boys lotlged up and down.
For, let the master's iudustiy and skill be ever so great,
it is impossible he should have fifty or an hundred
scholars under his eye any longer than they are in the
school together : nor can it be expected, that he should
instruct them successfully in any thing but their books;
the forming of their minds and manners requiring a
constant attention and particular application to every
single boy ; which is impossible in a numerous flock,
and would be wholly in vain, (could he have time to
study and correct every one's particular defects and
wrong inclinations,) when the lad was to be left to him-
self, or the prevailing infection of his fellows, the great-
est part of the four-and-twenty hours.

But fathers, observing that fortune is often most suc-
cessfully courted by bold and bustling men, are glad to
see their sons pert and forward betimes ; take it for a
happy omen that they will be thriving men, and look
on the tricks they play their school-fellows, or learn
from them, as a proficiency in the art of living, and
making their way through the world. But I must take
the liberty to say, that he that lays the foundation of
his son's fortune in virtue and good breeding, takes the
only sure and warrantable way. And it is not the
waggeries or cheats practised among school-boys ; it is
not their roughness one to another, nor the well-laid
plots of robbing an orchard together, that makes an
able man: but the principles of justice, generosity, and
sobriety, joined with observation and industry, qualities
which I judge school-boys do not learn much of one
another. And if a young gentleman, bred at home, be

not taught more of them thau he could learn at school,
his father has made a very ill choice of a tutor. Take
a boy from the top of a grammar-school, and one of
the same age, bred as he should be in his father's fam-
ily, and bring them into good company together ; and
then see which of the two will have the more manly
carriage, and address himself with the more becoming
assurance to strangers. Here I imagine the school-
boy's confidence will either fail or discredit him ; and
if it be such as fits him only for the conversation of
boys, he had better be without it.

Vice, if we may believe the general complaint,
ripens so fast now-a-davs, and runs

' VICE.

up to seed so early in young people,
that it is impossible to keep a lad from the spreading
contagion, if you will venture him abroad in the herd,
and trust to chance, or his own inclination, for the
choice of his company at school. By what fate vice
has so thriven amongst us these few years past, and by
what hands it has been nursed up into so uncontrolled
a dominion, I shall leave to others to inquire. I wish
that those who complain of the great decay of Chris-
tian piety and virtue every where, and of learning and
acquired improvements in the gentiy of this genera-
tion, would consider how to retrieve them in the next.
This I am sure, that, if the foundation of it be not laid
in the education and principling of the youth, all other
endeavours will be in vain. And if the innocence,
sobriety, and industry of those who are coming u]) be
not taken care of and preserved, it will be ridiculous
to exi)ect, that those who are to succeed next on the
stage should abound in that virtue, ability, and learn-
ing, which has hitherto made England considerable in
the world. I was going to add courage too, though it
has been looked on as the natural inheritance of Eng-
lishmen. What has been talked of some late actions

90 LOCKE.

at sea, of a kind unknown to our ancestors, gives me
occasion to say, that debauchery- sinks the courage of
men ; and when dissoluteness has eaten out the sense
of true honour, bravery seldom stays long after it.
And I think it impossible to find an instance of any
nation, however renowned for their valour, who ever
kept their credit in arms, or made themselves redoubt-
able amongst their neigiibours, after corruption had
once broke through, and dissolved the restraint of dis-
cipline ; and vice was grown to such a head, that it
durst show itself barefaced, without being out of coun-
tenance.

It is virtue then, direct virtue, which is the hard
and valuable part to be aimed at in

VIRTUE. 1 . 1 . i? 1 ^

education : and not a forward pert-
ness, or any little arts of shifting. All other consid-
erations and accomplishments should give way, and
be postponed, to this. This is the sohd and substan-
tial good, which tutors should not only read lectures,
and talk of; but the labour and art of education
should furnish the mind with, and fasten there, and
never cease till the young man had a true relish of it,
and placed his strength, his glory, and his pleasure
in it.

The more this advances, the easier way will be
made for other accomplishments in
their turns. For he that is brought
to submit to virtue, will not be re-
fractory, or resty, in any thing that becomes him.
And therefore I cannot but prefer breeding of a young
gentleman at home in his father's sight, under a good
governor, as much the best and safest way to this
gi-eat and main end of education ; when it can be
had, and is ordered as it should be. Gentlemen's
houses are seldom without variety of company : they
should use their sons to all the stransre faces that

n

come there, and engage them in conversation with
men of parts and breeding, as soon as they are capable
of it. And why those, who hve in the conntr}', should
not take them with them, when they make visits of
civility to their neighbours, I know not : this I am
sure, a father that breeds his son at home, has the op-
portunity to have him more in his own company, and
there give him what encouragement he thinks fit ; and
can keep him better from the taint of servants, and
the meaner sort of people, than is possible to be done
abroad. But what shall be resolved in the case, must
in gi-eat measure be left to the parents to be deter-
mined by their circumstances and conveniencies. Only
I think it the worst sort of good husbandly for a father
not to strain himself a little for his son's breeding : which,
let his condition be what it will, is the best portion he
can leave him. But if, after all, it shall be thought by
some that the breeding at home lias too little company,
and that at ordinary schools not such as it should be
for a young gentleman, I think there might be ways
found out to avoid the inconveniencies on the one
side and the other.

§ 65. Having under consideration how great the
influence of company is, and how prone w^e are all,
especially children, to imitation ; I must here take the
Uberty to mind parents of this one thing, viz. that he
that will have his son have a respect for him and his
orders, must himself have a great

EXAMPLE.

reverence for his son. '• Maxima
debetur pueris reverentia." You must do nothing be-
fore him, which you would not have him imitate. If
any thing escape you, which you would have pass for
a fault in him, he will be sure to shelter himself under
your example, and shelter liimself so, as that it will
not be easy to come at him to correct it in him the
right way. If you punish him for what he sees you

92 LOCKE.

practise yourself, he will not think that severity to pro-
ceed from kindness in you, or carefulness to amend a
fault in him ; but will be apt to interpret it the pee-
vishness and arbitrary iraperiousness of a father, who,
without any ground for it, would deny his son the lib-
erty and pleasure he takes himself Or if you assume
to yourself the liberty you have taken, as a privilege
belonging to riper years, to which a child must not
aspire, you do but add new force to your example,
and recommend the action the more powerfully to
him. For you must always remember, that children
affect to be men earlier than is thought : and they love
breeches, not for their cut, or ease, but because the
having them is a mark or a step towards manhood.
What I say of the father's carriage before his children,
must extend itself to all those who have any authority
over them, or for whom he would have them have
any respect.

§ 66. But to return to the business of rewards and
punishments. All the actions of

PU>-ISHMENTS. , -1 T 1 1 r 1- ii

chndishness, and unfashionable car-
riage, and whatever time and age will of itself be sure
to reform, being, (as I have said,) exempt from the dis-
cipline of the rod, there will not be so much need of
beating children as is generally made use of. To
which if we add learning to read, write, dance, foreign
languages, &c. as under the same privilege, there will
be but very rarely any occasion for blows or force in
an ingenuous education. The right way to teach
them those things is, to give them a liking and inclin-
ation to what you propose to them to be learned, and
that will engage their industry and application. This
I think no hard matter to do, if children be handled as
they should be, and the rewards and punishments above
mentioned be carefully applied, and with them these
few rules observed in the method of instructing them.

DISPOSITION. 93

§ 67. 1. None of the things they are to learn should
ever be made a burden to them, or
imposed on them as a task. What-
ever is so proposed presently becomes irksome : the
mind takes an aversion to it, though before it were a
thing of delight or indifterency. Let a child be but
ordered to whip his top at a certain time every day,
whether he has or has not a mind to it ; let this be but
required of him as a duty, wherein he must spend so
many hours morning and afternoon, and see whether
he will not soon be weary of any play at this rate. Is
it not so with grown men ? What they do cheerfully
of themselves, do they not presently grow sick of, and
can no more endure, as soon as they find it is expected
of them as a duty ? Children have as much a mind
to show that they are free, that their own good actions
come from themselves, that they are absolute and inde-
])endent, as any of the proudest of you grown men,
think of them as you please.

§ OS. 2. As a consequence of this, they should sel-
dom be put about doinff even those

, . , Y ,. . . DISPOSITION.

things you have got an mchualion in
them to, but when they have a mind and disposition to
it. He that loves reading, writing, music, &.c. finds
yet in himself certain seasons wherein those things
have no relish to him : and, if at that time he forces
himself to it, he only pothers and wearies himself to
no purpose. So it is with children. This change of
temper should be carefully observed in them, and the
favourable seasons of aptitude and inclination be heed-
fully laid hold of: and if they are not often enough
forward of themselves, a good disposition should be
talked into them, before they be set upon any thing.
This I think no hard matter for a discreet tutor to do,
who has studied his pupil's temper, and will be at a
little pains to fill his head with suitable ideas, such as

94 LOCKE.

may make him in love with the present business. By
this means a great deal of time and tiring would be
saved : for a child will learn three times as much when
he is in tune, as he will with double the time and
pains, when he goes awkwardly, or is dragged unwil-
lingly to it. If this were minded as it should, chil-
dren might be permitted to weary themselves with
play, and yet have time enough to learn what is suited
to the capacity of each age. But no such thing is
considered in the ordinary way of education, nor can
it well be. That rough discipline of the rod is built
upon other principles, has no attraction in it, regards
not what humour children are in, nor looks after
favourable seasons of inclination. And indeed it
would be ridiculous, when compulsion and blows
have raised an aversion in the child to his task, to ex-
pect he should freely of his own accord leave his play,
and with pleasure court the occasions of learning :
whereas, were matters ordered right, learning any
thing they should be taught might be made as much a
recreation to their play, as their play is to their learn-
ing. The pains are equal on both sides : nor is it that
which troubles them ; for they love to be busy, and
the change and variety is that which naturally delights
them. The only odds is, in that which we call play
they act at liberty, and employ their pains, (whereof
you may observe them never sparing,) freely ; but
what they are to learn, is forced upon them : they are
called, compelled, and driven to it. This is that which
at first entrance balks and cools them ; they want their
liberty: get them but to ask their tutor to teach them,
as they do often their playfellows, instead of his calling
upon them to learn ; and they being satisfied that they
act as freely in this as they do in other things, they will
go on with as much pleasure in it, and it will not dif-
fer from their other sports and play. By these ways.

DISPOSITION. 95

carefully pursued, a child may be brought to desire to
be taught any thiug you have a mind he should learn.
The hardest part, I confess, is with the first or eldest ;
but when once he is set aright, it is easy by him to
lead tlie rest whither one will.

v^ 69. Though it be past doubt, that the fittest time
for children to learn any thing is when their minds are
in tune, and well disposed to it ; when neither flagging
of spirit, nor intentness of thought upon something
else, make^ them awkward and averse ; yet two things
are to be taken care of: 1. that these seasons either
not being warily observed, and laid hold on, as often as
they return ; or else not returning as often as they
should ; the improvement of the child be not thereby
neglected, and so he be let grow into an habitual idle-
ness, and confirmed in this indisposition. 2. That
though other things are ill learned when the mind is
either indisposed, or otherwise taken up ; yet it is of
great moment, and worth our endeavours, to teach the
mindto get the mastery over itself; and to be able, upon
choice, to take itself off from the hot pursuit of one
thing, and set itself upon another, whh facility and
delight ; or at any time to shake off its sluggishness,
and vigorously employ itself about what reason, or
the advice of another, shall direct. This is to be done
in children, by trying them sometimes, when they are
by laziness unbent, or by avocation bent another way,
and endeavouring to make them buckle to the thing
proposed. If by this means the mind can get an ha-
bitual dominion over itself, lay by ideas or business, as
occasion requires, and betake itself to new and less
acceptable employments, without reluctancy or dis-
composure, it will be an advantage of more conse-
quence than Latin or logic, or most of those things
children are usually required to learn.

§ 70. Children being more active and busy in that

96 LOCKE.

age than in any other part of their hie, and being

indifferent to any thing they can do,

coMPULSio>. g^ ^j^^^. j^^^^ ^^ ^^^^ doing; dancing

and scotch-hoppers would be the same thing to them,
■were the encouragements and discouragements equal.
But to things we would iiave them learn, the great and
only discouragement I can obser\'e is, that they are
called to it ; it is made their business ; they are teased
and chid about it, and do it with trembling and appre-
hension ; or, when they come willingly to it, are kept
too long at it, till they are quite tired ; all which en-
trenches too much on that natural freedom they ex-
tremely affect. And it is that libertv" alone, which
gives the true relish and delight to their ordinary play-
games. Turn the tables, and you will find, they will
soon change their application ; especially if they see
the examples of others, whom they esteem and think
above themselves. And if the things which they ob-
serve others to do, be ordered so that they insinuate
themselves into them, as the ])rivilege of an age or
condition above theirs; then ambition, and the desire
still to get forward, and higher, and to be like those
above them, will set them on work, and make them go
on with vigour and pleasure : pleasure in what they
have begun by their own desire. In which way the
enjoyment of their dearly beloved freedom will be no
small encouragement to them. To all which, if there
be added the satisfaction of credit and reputation, I
am apt to think there will need no other spur to ex-
cite their application and assiduity, as much as is ne-
cessary. I confess, there needs patience and skill, gen-
tleness and attention, and a prudent conduct, to attain
this at first. But why have you a tutor, if there needed
no pains? But when this is once established, all the
rest will follow more easily than in any more severe
and imperious disciphne. And I think it no hard mat-

ter to gain this point ; I am sure it will not be, where chil-
dren have no ill examples set before them. The great
danger therefore I apprehend is only from servants, u.nd
other ill-ordered children, or such other vicious or fool-
ish people, who spoil children, both by the ill pattern they
set before them in their own ill manners, and by giving
them together the two things they should never have
at once ; I mean, vicious pleasures and commendation.
§ 71. As children should very seldom be corrected
by blows ; so, I think, frequent, and

. ,, . , • ,• \- 1 CHIDI>G.

especially passionate chiding, ot al-
most as ill consequence. It lessens the authority of
the parents, and the respect of the child : for I bid you
still remember, they distinguish early betwixt passion
and reason : and as they cannot but have a reverence
for what comes from the latter, so they quickly grow
into a contempt of the former ; or if it causes a present
terror, yet it soon wears off"; and natural inclination will
easily learn to slight such scare crows, which make a
noise, but are not animated by reason. Children being
to be restrained by the parents only in vicious, (which,
in their tender years, are only a few,) things, a look or
nod only ought to correct them, when they do amiss :
or, if words are sometimes to be used, they ought to
be grave, kind, and sober, representing the ill, or unbe-
comingness of the faults, rather than a hasty rating of
the child for it, which makes him not sufficiently dis-
tinguish whether your dislike be not more directed to
him than his fault. Passionate chiding usually carries
rough and ill language with it, which has this further
ill effect, that it teaches and justifies it in children : and
the names that their parents or preceptors give them,
they will not be ashamed or backward to bestow on
othei-s,. having so good authority for the use of them.
^ 7*2. I foresee here it will be objected to me : what
then, will you have children never beaten, nor chid,
G

98 LOCKE.

for any fault ? this \vill be to let loose the reins to all

kind of disorder. Not so much as is
OBSTIXACY. . . 1 ./. • 1 , 1

imagined, if a right course has been

taken in the first seasoning of their minds, and im-
planting that awe of their parents above mentioned.
For beating, by constant observation, is found to do lit-
tle good, where the smart of it is all the punishment is
feared or felt in it : for the influence of that quickly
wears out with the memory of it. But yet there is
one, and but one fault, for which, I think, children
should be beaten : and that is obstinacy or rebellion.
And in this too I would have it ordered so, if it can
be, that the shame of the whipping, and not the pain,
should be the greatest part of the punishment. Shame
of doing amiss, and deserving chastisement, is the only
true restraint belonging to virtue. The smart of the
rod, if shame accompanies it not, soon ceases, and is
forgotten, and will quickly, by use, lose its ten-or. I
have known the children of a person of quality kept in
awe, by the fear of having their shoes pulled off, as
much as others by api)rehensions of a rod hanging
over them. Some such punishment I think better
than beating ; for it is shame of the fault, and the dis-
grace that attends it, that they should stand in fear of,
rather than pain, if you would have them have a tem-
per truly ingenuous. But stubbornness, and an obsti-
nate disobedience, must be mastered with force and
blows : for this there is no other remedy. Whatever
particular action you bid him do, or forbear, you must
be sure to see yourself obeyed ; no quarter, in this case,
no resistance. For when once it comes to be a trial
of skill, a contest for mastery betwixt you, as it is, if
you command, and he refuses ; you must be sure to
carry it, whatever blows it costs, if a nod or words
will not prevail ; unless, for ever after, you intend to
live in obedience to your son. A prudent and kind

OBSTINACY. 99

mother, of my acquaintance, was, on such an occasion,
forced to whip her httle daughter, at her first coming
home from nurse, eight times successively, the same
morning, before she could master her stubbornness,
and obtain a compliance in a very easy and indifferent
matter. If she had left off sooner, and stopped at the
seventh whipping, she had spoiled the child for -ever ;
and, by her unprevailing blows, only confirmed her
refractoriness, very hardly afterwards to be cured : but
wisely persisting, till she had bent her mind, and sup-
pled her will, the only end of correction and chastise-
ment, she established her authority thoroughly in the
very first occasions, and had ever after a veiy ready
compliance and obedience in all things from her
daughter. For, as this was the first time, so, I think,
it was the last too she ever struck her.

The pain of the rod, the first occasion that requires
it, continued and increased without leaving off, till it
has thoroughly prevailed, should first bend the mind,
and settle the parent's authority ; and then gravity,
mixed with kindness, should for ever after keep it.

This, if well reflected on, would make people more
wary in the use of the rod and the cudgel ; and keep
them from being so apt to think beating the safe and
universal remedy, to be applied at random, on all oc-
casions. This is certain, however, if it does no good,
it does great harm ; if it reaches not the mind, and
makes not the will supple, it hardens the oifender ;
and, whatever pain he has suffered for it, it does but
endear to him his beloved stubbornness, which has got
him this time the victory, and prepares him to contest
and hope for it for the future. Thus, I doubt not, but
by ill-ordered correction, many have been taught to be
obstin-ate and refractory, who otherwise would have
been very pliant and tractable. For, if you punish a
child so, as if it were only to revenge the past fault,
g2

100 LOCKE.

which has raised your choler ; what operation can this
have upon his mind, wiiich is the part to be amended?
If there were no sturdy humour or wilfuhiess mixed
with his fault, there was nothing in it that required the
severity of blows. A kind or grave admonition is
enough to remedy the slips of frailty, forgetfulness, or
inadvertency, and is as much as they will stand in
need of. But, if there were a perverseness in the will,
if it were a designed, resolved disobedience, the pun-
ishment is not to be measured by the greatness or
smallness of the matter wherein it appeared, but by
the opposition it carries, and stands in, to that respect
and submission tliat is due to the father's orders;
which must always be rigorously exacted, and the
blows l)y pauses laid on, till they reach the mind, and
you perceive the signs of a true sorrow, shame, and
purpose of obedience.

This, I confess, requires something more than setting
children a task, and whipping them without any more
ado, if it be not done, and done to our fancy. This re-
quires care, attention, obsenation, and a nice study of
children's tem])ers, and weighing their faults Vvell, be-
fore we come to this sort of punishment. But is not that
better than always to have the rod in hand, as the only
instrument of government ; and, by frequent use of it on
all occasions, misapply and render inefficacious this last
and useful remedy, where there is need of it ? For
what else can be expected, when it is promiscuously
used upon eveiy little slip ? When a mistake in con-
cordance, or a wrong position in verse, shall have the
severity of the lash, in a well-tempered and industrious
lad, as surely as a wilful crime in an obstinate and per-
verse offender; how can such a way of correction be ex-
pected to do good on the mind, and set that right, which
is the only thing to i)e looked after? and, when set right,
brings all the rest that you can desire along with it.

OBSTIXACY. 101

§ 73. Where a wrong bent of the will wants not
amendment, there can be no need of blows. All
other faults, where the mind is rightly disposed, and
refuses not the government and authority of the father
or tutor, are but mistakes, and may often be over-
looked ; or, when they are taken notice of, need no
other but the gentle remedies of advice, direction, and
reproof; till the repeated and wilful neglect of these
shows the fault to be in the mind, and that a manifest
perverseness of the will hes at the root of their diso-
bedience. But whenever obstinacy, which is an open
defiance, appears, that cannot be winked at, or neg-
lected, but nmst, in the first instance, be subdued and
mastered ; only care must be had that we mistake not,
and we must be sure it is obstinacy, and nothing else.

§ 74. But since the occasions of punishment, espe-
cially beating, are as much to be avoided as may be, I
think it should not be often brought to this point. If
the awe I spoke of be once got, a look will be suffi-
cient in most cases. Nor indeed should the same
carriage, seriousness, or application be expected from
young children, as from those of riper growth. They
must be permitted, as I said, the foohsh and childish
actions suitable to their years, without taking notice
of them ; inadvertency, carelessness, and gaiety, is the
character of that age. I think the severity I spoke of
is not to extend itself to such unseasonable restraints ;
nor is that hastily to be interpreted obstinacy or wil-
fulness, which is the natural product of their age or
temper. In such miscarriages they are to be assisted,
and helped towards an amendment, as weak people
under a natural infirmity' ; which, though they are
warned of, yet every relapse must not be counted a
perfect neglect, and they presently treated as obstinate.
Faults of frailty, as they should never be neglected,
or let pass without minding ; so, unless the will mix

102 ~ LOCKE.

with them, they should never be exaggerated, or very
sharply reproved ; but with a gentle hand set right, as
time and age permit. By this means, children will
come to see what is in any miscarriage that is chiefly
offensive, and so learn to avoid it. This will encour-
age them to keep their wills right, which is the great
business : when they find that it presenes them from
any great displeasure ; and that in all their other fail-
ings they meet Avith the kind concern and help, rather
than the anger and passionate reproaches, of their tutor
and parents. Keep them from vice, and vicious dis-
positions, and such a kind of behaviour in general will
come, with every degree of their age, as is suitable to
that age, and the company they ordinarily converse
with : and as they grow in years, they will grow in
attention and application. But that your words may
always carry weight and authority with them, if it
shall happen, upon any occasion, that you bid him
leave off the doing of any even childish things, you
must be sure to carry the point, and not let him have
the mastery. But yet, I say, I would have the father
seldom interpose his authority and command in these
cases, or in any other, but such as have a tendency to
vicious habits. I think there are better Avays of pre-
vailing with them ; and a gentle persuasion in reason-
ing, (when the first point of submission to your will is
got,) will most times do much better.

§ 75. It will perhaps be wondered, that I mention
reasoning with children : and yet I

REASO-MNG. . i . i ■ i i . .1

cannot but thmk that the true way
of dealing with them. They understand it as early as
they do language ; and if I misobserve not, they love
to be treated as rational creatures sooner than is
imagined. It is a pride should be cherished in them,
and, as much as can be, made the greatest instrument
to turn them by.

REAsoyrxG. 103

But when I talk of reasoning, I do not intend any
other but such as is suited to the child's capacity and
apprehension. Nobody can think a boy of three or
seven years old should be argued with as a grown
man. Long discourses, and philosophical reasonings,
at best amaze and confound, but do not instruct, chil-
dren. When I say, therefore, that they must be treat-
ed as rational creatures, I mean, that you should make
them sensible, by the mildness of your carriage, and
the composure, even in your correction of them, that
what you do is reasonable in you, and useful and
necessary for them ; and that it is not out of caprice,
passion, or fancy, that you command or forbid them
any thing. This they are capable of understanding ;
and there is no virtue they should be excited to, nor
fault they should be kept from, which I do not think
they may be convinced of: but it must be by such
reasons as their age and understanding are capable of,
and those proposed always in very few and plain
words. The foundations on which several duties are
built, and the fountains of right and wrong, from
which they spring, are not, perhaps, easily to be let into
the minds of grown men, not used to abstract their
thoughts from common received opinions. Much less
are children capable of reasonings from remote princi-
ples. They cannot conceive the force of long deduc-
tions : the reasons that move them must be obvious,
and level to their thoughts, and such as may, (if I may
so say,) be felt and touched. But yet, if their age,
temper, and inclinations be considered, they will never
want such motives as may be sufficient to convince
them. If there be no other more particular, yet these
will always be intelligible, and of force, to deter them
from any fault fit to be taken notice of in them, viz.
that it will be a discredit and disgi-ace to them, and
displease you.

104 LOCKE.

§ 76. But, of all the ways whereby children are
to be instructed, and their manners

EXAMPLES. r- 1 ., 1 • . • . J

formed, the plamest, easiest, and
most efficacious, is to set before their eyes the exam-
ples of those things you would have them do or avoid.
Which, when they are pointed out to them, in the
practice of persons within their knowledge, with some
reflections on their beauty or unbecomingness, are of
more force to draw or deter their imitation than
any discourses which can be made to them. Virtues
and vices can by no words be so plainly set before
their understandings as the actions of other men will
show them, when you direct their observation, and bid
them view this or that good or bad quality in their prac-
tice. And the beauty or uncomeliness of many things,
in good and ill breeding, will be better learnt, and make
deeper impressions on them, in the examples of others,
than from any rules or instructions can be given about
them.

This is a method to be used, not only whilst they
are young ; but to be continued, even as long as they
shall be under another's tuition or conduct. Nay, I
know not whether it be not the best w'ay to be used by
a father, as long as he shall think fit, on any occasion,
to reform any thing he wishes mended in his son ;
nothing sinking so gently, and so deep, into men's
minds, as example. And what ill they either over-
look, or indulge in themselves, they cannot but dislike,
and be ashamed of, when it is set before them in an-
other.

§ 77. It may be doubted concerning whipping,

when, as the last remedv, it comes to
WHIPPING. , , '. T ,

be necessaiy ; at what times, and by

whom it should be done : whether presently upon the

committing the fault, whilst it is yet fresh and hot ;

and whether parents themselves should beat their chil-

WHIPPOG. 105

dren. As to the first ; I think it should not be done
presently, lest passion mingle with it ; and so, though
it exceed the just proportion, yet it loses of its due
weight : for even children discern when we do things
in passion. But, as I said before, that has most weight
with them, that appears sedately to come from their
parents' reason ; and they are not without this distinc-
tion. Next, if you have any discreet servant capable
of it, and has the place of governing your child, (for if
you have a tutor, there is no doubt,) I think it is best
the smart should come more immediately from anoth-
er's hand, though by the parent's order, who should
see it done ; whereby the parent's authority will be
preserved, and the child's aversion, for the pain it suf-
fers, rather be turned on the person that immediately
inflicts it. For I would have a father seldom strike
his child, but upon verv' urgent necessity, and as the
last remedy : and then perhaps it will be tit to do it so
that the child should not quickly forget it.

§ 78. But, as I said before, beating is the worst, and
therefore the last, means to be used in the correction of
children ; and that only in cases of extremity, after all
gentler ways have been tried, and proved unsuccessful :
which, if well observed, there will be ver}- seldom any
need of blows. For, it not being to be imagined that
a child will often, if ever, dispute his father's present
command in any particular instance ; and the father
not interposing his absolute authority, in peremptory
rules, concerning either childish or indifi:erent actions,
wherein his son is to have his liberty ; or concerning
his learning or improvement, wherein there is no com-
pulsion to be used ; there remains only the prohibition
of some vicious actions, wherein a child is capable of
obstinacy, and consequently can deserve beating: and
so there will be but very few occasions of that disci-
pline to be used by any one, who considers well, and

106

orders his child's education as it should be. For the
first seven years, what vices can a child be guilty of, but
lying, or some ill-natured tricks ; the repeated com-
mission whereof, after his father's direct command
against it, shall bring him into the condemnation of
obstinacy, and the chastisement of the rod ? If any
vicious inchnation in hmi be, in the first appearance
and instances of it, treated as it should be, first, with
your wonder; and then, if returning again a second
time, discountenanced with the severe brow of the fa-
ther, tutor, and all about him, and a treatment suita-
ble to the state of discredit before mentioned ; and this
continued till he be made sensible and ashamed of his
fault ; I imagine there will be no need of any other
correction, nor ever any occasion to come to blows.
The necessity of such chastisement is usually the con-
sequence only of former indulgences or neglects. If
vicious inclinations were watched from the beginning,
and the first irregularities which they caused corrected
by those gentle w^ays, we should seldom have to do
witli more than one disorder at once : which would be
easily set right without any stir or noise, and not re-
quire so harsh a discipline as beating. Thus, one by
one, as they appeared, they might all be weeded out,
without any signs or memory that ever they had been
there. But we letting their faults, (by indulging and
humouring our little ones,) grow up, till they are sturdy
and numerous, and the deformity of them makes us
ashamed and uneasy, we are fain to come to the plough
and the harrow ; the spade and the pick-axe must go
deep to come at the roots, and all the force, skill, and
diligence we can use is scarce enough to cleanse the
vitiated seed-plat, overgrown with weeds, and restore
us the hopes of fruits to reward our pains in its season.
§ 79. This course, if observed, will spare both father
and child the trouble of repeated injunctions, and mul-

WHIPPI>-G. 107

tiplied rules of doing and forbearing. For I am of
opinion, that of those actions whicii tend to vicious
habits, (which are those alone that a father should in-
terpose his authority and commands in,) none should be
forbidden children till they are found guilty of them.
For such untimely prohibitions, if they do nothing
worse, do at least so much towards teaching and allow-
ing them, that they suppose that children may be guilty
of them, who would possibly be safer in the ignorance
of any such faults. And the best remedy to stop them,
is, as I have said, to show wonder and amazement at
any such action as hath a vicious tendency, when it is
first taken notice of in a child. For example, when
he is first found in a lie, or any ill-natured trick, the
first remedy should be, to talk to him of it as a strange
monstrous matter, that it could not be imagined he
would have done : and so shame him out of it.

§ 80. It will be, (it is like,) objected, that whatsoev-
er I fancy of the tractableness of children, and the pre-
valency of those softer ways of shame and commenda-
tion ; yet there are many, who will never apply them-
selves to their books, and to what they ought to learn,
unless they are scourged to it. This, I fear, is nothing
but the language of ordinaiy schools and fashion, w hich
have never suffered the other to be tried as it should
be, in places where it could be taken notice of Why,
else, docs the learning of Latin and Greek need the
rod, when French and Italian need it not ? Children
learn to dance and fence without whipping : nay, arith-
metic, drawing, &c. they apply themselves well enough
to, without beating : which would make one suspect,
that there is something strange, unnatural, and disa-
greeable to that age in the things required in grammar-
schools, or in the methods used there, that children
cannot be brought to, without the severity of the lash,
and hardl}^'\^ ith that too ; or else, that it is a mistake that
those tongues could not be taught them without beating.

108

§ 81. But let us suppose some so negligent or idle,
that they will not be brought to learn by the gentle
ways proposed, (for we must gi-ant that there will be
children found of all tempers ;) yet it does not thence
follow that the rough discipline of the cudgel is to be
used to all. Nor can any one be concluded unman-
ageable by the milder methods of government, till they
have been thoroughly tried upon him ; and, if they will
not prevail with him to use his endeavours, and do
what is in his power to do, we make no excuses for
the obstinate : blows are the proper remedies for those:
but blows laid on in a way different from the ordinary.
He that wilfully neglects his book, and stubbornly re-
fuses any thing he can do, required of hmi by his fa-
ther, expressing himself in a positive serious command,
should not be corrected with two or three angry lashes,
for not performing his task, and the same punishment
repeated again and again, upon every the like default :
but, when it is brought to that pass, that wilfulness ev-
idently shows itself and makes blows necessary, I think
the chastisement should be a little more sedate, and a
little more severe, and the whipping, (mingled with
admonition between,) so continued, till the impressions
of it, on the mind, were found legible in the face, voice,
and submission of the child, not so sensible of the
smart, as of the fault he has been guilty of, and melt-
ing in true sorrow under it. If such a coiTection as
this tried some few times at fit distances, and carried
to the utmost severity, with the visible displeasure of
the father all the while, Avill not work the effect, turn
the mind, and produce a future compliance : what can
be hoped from blows, and to what purpose should they
be any more used ? Beating, when you can expect no
good from it, will look more like the fury of an enrag-
ed enemy than the good-will of a compassionate friend ;
and such chastisement carries with it only p*ovocation,
without anj- prospect of amendment. If it be any fa-

TUTOR. 109

ther's misfortune to have a son thus perverse and un-
tractable, I know not what more he can do but pray
for him. But I imagine, if a right course be taken
with children from the beginning, very few will be
found to be such ; and when there are any such in-
stances, they are not to be the rule for the education
of those who are better natured, and may be managed
with better usage.

§ 82. If a tutor can be got, that, thinking himself in
the father's place, charged with his
care, and relishing these things, will
at the beginning apply himself to put them in practice,
he will afterwards hnd his work veiy easy : and you
will, I guess, have your son in a little time a greater
proficient in both learning and breeding than perhaps
you imagine. But let him by no means beat him, at
any time, without your consent and direction ; at least
till you have experience of his discretion and temper.
But yet, to keep up his authority with his pupil, be-
sides concealing that he has not the power of the rod,
you must be sure to use him with great respect your-
self, and cause all your family to do so too. For you
cannot expect your sou should have any regard for one
whom he sees you, or his mother, or others shght. If
you think him worthy of contempt, you have chosen
amiss ; and if you show any contempt of him, he will
hardly escape it from your son : and whenever that
haj)pens, whatever worth he may have in himself,
and abilities for this employment, they are all lost to
your child, and can afterwards never be made useful
to him.

§ 83. As the fathers example must teach the child
respect for his tutor ; so the tutor's example must lead
the child into those actions he would have him do.
His jiractice must by no means cross his precepts, im-
less he intend to set him wrong. It will l)e to no pur-

110 LOCKE.

pose for the tutor to talk of the restraint of the passions,
whilst any of his own are let loose ; and he will iu
vain endeavour to reform any vice or indecency in his
pupil w hich he allov.s in himself 111 patterns are sure
to be followed more than good rules : and therefore he
must also carefully preserve him from the influence of
ill precedents, especially the most dangerous of all, the
examples of the servants ; from whose company he is
to be kept, not by prohibitions, for that will but give him
an itch after it, but by other ways I have mentioned.
§ 84. In all the whole business of education, there
is nothing like to be less hearkened
to, or harder to be well observed, than
what I am now going to say ; and that is that children
should, from their first beginning to talk, have some
discreet, sober, nay wise person about them, whose care
it should be to fashion them aright and keep them from
all ill, especially the infection of bad company. I think
this province requires great sobriety, temperance, ten-
derness, diligence, and discretion ; qualities hardly to
be found united in persons that are to be had for ordi-
nary salaries, nor easily to be found any where. As to
the charge of it, I think it will be the money best laid
out that can be about our children ; and therefore,
though it may be expensive more than is ordinary, yet
it cannot be thought dear, lie that at any rate pro-
cures his child a good mind, well-principled, tempered
to virtue and usefulness, and adorned with civility and
good breeding, makes a better purchase for him, than
if he had laid out the money for an addition of more
earth to his former acres. Spare it in toys and play-
games, in silk and ribbons, laces and other useless ex-
penses, as much as you please ; but be not sparing in
so necessary a part as this. It is not good husbandry
to make his fortune rich, and his mind poor. I have
often, with great admiration, seen people lavish it pro-

GOVERNOR. Ill

fusely in tricking up their children in fine clothes,
lodging, and feeding them sumptuously, allowing them
more than enough of useless servants ; and yet at the
same time starve their minds, and not take sufficient
care to cover that which is the most shameful naked-
ness, viz. their natural wrong inclinations and igno-
rance. This I can look on as no other than a sacri-
ficing to their own vanity ; it showing more their pride
than true care of the good of their children. Whatso-
ever you employ to the advantage of your son's mind
will show your true kindness, though it be to the less-
ening of his estate. A wise and good man can hardly
want either the opinion or reality of being great and
happy. But he that is foolish or vicious, can be nei-
ther great nor happy, what estate soever you leave him :
and I ask you whether there be not men in the world
Avhom you had rather have your son be, with five hun-
dred pounds per annum, than some other you know,
with five thousand pounds ?

§ 85. The consideration of charge ought not, there^
fore, to deter those wiio are able : the great difficulty
will be, where to find a proper person. For those of
small age, parts, and virtue, are unfit for this employ-
jneut : and those that have greater, will hardly be got
to undertake such a charge. You must therefore look
out early, and inquire every where ; for the world has
people of all sorts : and I remember, Montaigne says
in one of his essays, that the learned Castalio was fain
to make trenchers at Basil, to keep himself from starv-
ing, when his fiither would have given any money for
such a tutor for his son, and Castaho have willingly
embraced such an employment upon very reasonable
terms : but this was for want of intelligence.

§ 86. If you find it difficult to meet with such a
tutor as we desire, you are not to wonder. I only can
say, spare no care nor cost to get such an one. All
things are to be had that wav : and I dare assure vou.

112

that, if you can get a good one, you will never repent
the charge ; but will always have the satisfaction to
think it the money, of all other, the best laid out. But
be sure take no body upon friends, or charitable, no,
nor bare great commendations. Nay, if you will do as
you ouglit, the reputation of a sober man, with a good
stock of learning, (which is ail usually required in a
tutor,) will not be enough to serve your turn. In this
choice be as curious as you would be in that of a wife
for him : for you must not think of trial, or changing
afterwards ; that will cause gi-eat inconvenience to you,
and greater to your son. When I consider the scru-
ples and cautions I here lay in your way, methinks it
looks as if I advised you to something wliich I would
have offered at, but in effect not done. But he that
shall consider, how much the business of a tutor, right-
ly employed, lies out of the road ; and how remote it
is from the thoughts of many, even of those who pro-
pose to themselves this employment : will perhaps be
of my mind, that one fit to educate and form the mind
of a young gentleman is not every where to be found ;
and that more than ordinary care is to be taken in the
choice of him, or else you may fail of your end.

§ 87. The character of a sober man, and a scholar,
is, as I have above observed, what

TUTOR. . • » . mu-

every one expects m a tutor. This
generally is thought enough, and is all that parents com-
monly look for. But when such an one has emptied
out, into his pupil, all the Latin and logic he boa
brought from the university, will that furniture make
him a fine gentleman ? Or can it be expected, that he
should be better bred, better skilled in the world, bet-
ter principled in the grounds and foundations of true
virtue and generosity, than his young tutor is ?

To form a young gentleman, as he should be, it is fit
his governor should himself be well-bred, understand
the ways of carriage, and measures of civility, in all

TUTOR. 113

the variety of persons, times, aud places; and keep his
pupil, as much as his age requires, constantly to the
ohservation of them. This is an art not to be learnt,
nor taught by books : nothing can give it but good
company and observation joined together. The tailor
may make his clothes modish, and the dancing-master
give fashion to his motions; yet neither of these, though
they set off well, make a well-bred gentleman : no,
though he have learning to boot ; which, if not well
managed, makes him more impertinent and intolerable
in conversation. Breeding is that which sets a gloss
upon all his other good qualities, and renders them
useful to him, in procuring him the esteem and good
will of all that he comes near. Without good breeding,
liis other accomplishments make him pass but for
proud, conceited, vain, or foolish.

Courage, in an ill-bred man, has the air, and escapes
not the opinion, of brutality : learning becomes pedan-
tiT ; wit, butfooneiy ; plainness, rusticity ; good-nature,
fawning : and there cannot be a good quality in him
which want of breeding will not warp, and disfigure to
his disadvantage. Nay, virtue and parts, though they
are allowed their due commendation, yet are not enough
to procure a man a good reception, and make him wel-
come wherever he comes. Nobody contents himself
with rough diamonds, and wears them so, who would
appear with advantage. When they are pohshed and
set, then they give a lustre. Good qualities are the
substantial riches of the mind; but it is good breeding
sets them off: and he that will be acceptable, must
give beauty as well as strength, to his actions. Solid-
ity, or even usefulness, is not enough : a graceful way
and fashion, in every thing, is that which gives the or-
nament and liking. And, in most cases, the manner
of doing is of more consequence than the thing done ;
and upon that depends the satisfaction, or disgust
H

114 LOCKE.

wherewith it is received. This therefore, which Hes
not in the putting off the hat, nor making of compli-
ments, but in a due and free composure of language,
looks, motion, posture, place, &c. suited to persons and
occasions, and can be learned only by habit and use,
though it be above the capacity of children, and little
ones should not be perplexed about it ; yet it ought to
be begun, and in a good measure learned, by a young
gentleman whilst lie is under a tutor, before he comes
into the world upon his own legs; for then usually it is
too late to hope to reform several habitual indecencies,
which lie in little things. For the carriage is not as it
should be, till it is become natural in every part ; fall-
ing, as skilful musicians' fingers do, into harmonious
order, without care and without thought. If in con-
versation a man's mind be taken up with a solicitous
watchfulness about any part of his behaviour, instead
of being mended by it, it will be constrained, uneasy,
and ungraceful.

Besides, this part is most necessary to be formed by
the hands and care of a governor : because, though the
errors committed in breeding are the first that are tak-
en notice of by others, yet they are the last that any
one is told of. Not but that the malice of the world
is forward enough to tattle of them ; but it is always
out of his hearing who should make profit of their
judgment, and reform himself by their censure. And,
indeed, this is so nice a point to be meddled with, that
even those who are friends, and wish it were mended,
scarce ever dare mention it, and tell those they love
that they are guilty in such or such cases of ill breed-
ing. Errors in other things may often with civility be
shown another ; and it is no breach of good manners,
or friendship, to set him right in other mistakes: but
good breeding itself allows not a man to touch upon
this ; or to insinuate to another, that he is guilty of

TUTOR. 115

want of breeding. Such information caii come only
from those who have authority over them : and from
them too it comes very hardly and harshly to a grown
man ; and, however softened, goes but ill down with
any one who has lived ever so little in the world.
Wherefore it is necessary that this part should be the
governor's principal care ; that an habitual graceful-
ness, and politeness in all his carriage, may be settled
in his charge, as much as may be, before he goes out
of his hands : and that he may not need advice in this
point when he has neither time nor disposition to re-
ceive it, nor has any body left to give it him. The
tutor therefore ought, in the first place to be well-bred :
and a young gentleman, who gets this one qualification
from his governor, sets out with great advantage ; and
will find, that this one accomplishment will more open
his way to him, get him more friends, and cany him
farther in the world, than all the hard words, or real
knowledge, he has got from the liberal arts, or his tu-
tor's learned encyclopedia ; not that those should be
neglected, but by no means preferred, or suffered to
thrust out the other.

§ 88. Besides being well-bred, the tutor should know
the world well ; the ways, the humours, the follies, the
cheats, the faults of the age he is fallen into, and par-
ticularly of the country he lives in. These he should
be able to show to his pupil, as he finds him capable ;
teach him skill in men, and their manners ; pull off the
mask which their several callings and pretences cover
them with ; and make his pupil discern what lies at
the bottom, under such appearances ; that he may not,
as unexperienced young men are apt to do, if they are
unwarned, take one thing for another, judge by the
outside, and give himself up to show, and the insinua-
tion of a fair carriage, or an obliging ayjplication. A
governor should teach his scholar to guess at, and be-
h2

116 LOCKE.

ware of, the designs of men he hath to do with, neither
with too much suspicion, nor too much confidence ;
but, as the young man is by nature most inchned to
either side, rectify him, and bend him the other way.
He should accustom him to make, as much as is pos-
sible a true judgment of men by those marks which
serve best to show what they are, and give a prospect
into their inside ; which often shows itself in' little
things ; especially when they are not in parade, and
upon their guard. He should acquaint him with the
true state of the world, and dispose him to think no
man better or worse, wiser or foolisher, than he really
is. Thus, by safe and insensible degrees, he will pass
from a boy to a man ; which is the most hazardous step
in all the whole course of life. This therefore should
be carefully watched, and a young man with great dil-
igence handed over it ; and not, as now usually is done,
be taken from a governor's conduct, and all at once
thrown into the world imder his own, not without man-
ifest danger of immediate spoiling ; there being nothing
more frequent, than instances of the great looseness,
extravagancy, and debauchery, which young men have
run into, as soon as they have been let loose from a
severe and strict education : which, I think, may be
chiefly imputed to their wrong way of breeding, espe-
cially in this part ; for having been bred up in a great
ignorance of what the world truly is, and finding it
quite another thing, when they come into it, than what
they were taught it should be, and so imagined it Avas ;
are easily persuaded, by other kind of tutors, which
they are sure to meet with, that the discipline they
were kept under, and the lectures that were read to
them, were but the formalities of education, and the
restraints of childhood ; that the freedom belonging to
men, is to take their swing in a full enjoyment of what
was before forbidden them. They show the young

TUTOR. 117

novice the world, full of fashionable and glittering ex-
amples of this eveiy where, and he is presently dazzled
with them. My young master, faihngnotto be willing
to show himself a man, as much as any of the sparks
of his years, lets himself loose to all the irregularities
he finds in the most debauched ; and thus courts credit
and manliness, in the casting off the modesty and so-
briety he has till then been kept in ; and thinks it brave,
at his first setting out, to signalize himself in running
counter to all the rules of virtue which have been
preached to him by his tutor.

The showing him the world as really it is, before he
comes wholly into it, is one of the best means, I think,
to prevent this mischief. He should, by degrees, be
informed of the vices in fashion, and warned of the
applications and designs of those who will make it
their business to corrupt him. He should be told the
arts they use, and the trains they lay ; and now and
then have set before him the tragical or ridiculous ex-
amples of those who are ruining, or ruined, this way.
The age is not hke to want instances of this kind,
which should be made landmarks to him ; that by the
disgraces, diseases, beggary, and shame of hopeful
young men, thus brought to ruin, he may be precau-
tioned, and be made see, how those join in the con-
tempt and neglect of them that are undone, who, by
pretences of friendship and respect, led them into it,
and helped to prey upon them whilst they were undo-
ing : that he may see, before he buys it by a too dear
experience, that those who persuade him not to follow
the sober advices he has received from his governors,
and the counsel of his own reason, which they call
being governed by others, do it only, that they may
have the government of him themselves ; and make
him believe he goes like a man of himself, by his own
conduct, and for his own pleasure, when in truth, he is

lis XOCKE.

wholly as a child, led by them into those vices, which
best serve their purposes. This is a knowledge, which,
upon all occasions, a tutor should endeavour to instil,
and by all methods try to make him comprehend, and
thoroughly relish.

I know it is often said, that to discover to a young
man the vices of the age is to teach them him. That,
I confess, is a good deal so, according as it is done ;
and therefore requires a discreet man of parts, who
knows the world, and can judge of the temper, inclina-
tion, and weak side of his pupil. This farther is to
be remembered, that it is not possible now, (as perhaps
formerly it was,) to keep a young gentleman from vice,
by a total ignorance of it ; unless you will all his life
mew him up in a closet, and never let him go into
company. The longer he is kept thus hoodwinked,
the less he will see, when he comes abroad into open
daylight, and be the more exposed to be a prey to him-
self and others. And an old boy, at his first appear-
ance, with all the gravity of his ivy-bush about him, is
sure to draw on him the eyes and chirping of the
whole town volerj^ ; amongst which there will not be
wanting some birds of prey, that will presently be on
the wing for him.

The only fence against the world is a thorough
knowledge of it : into which a young gentleman should
be entered by degrees, as he can bear it : and the ear-
lier the better, so he be in safe and skilful hands to
guide him. The scene should be gently opened, and
his entrance made step by step, and the dangers point-
ed out that attend him, from the several degrees, tem-
pers, designs, and clubs of men. He should be pre-
pared to be shocked by some, and caressed by others ;
warned who are like to oi)pose, who to mislead, who
to undermine him, and who to serve him. He should
be instructed how to know and distinguish men : where

TUTOR. 119

he should let them see, and when dissemble the know-
ledge of them, and their aims and workings. And if
he be too forward to venture upon his own strength and
skill, the perplexity and trouble of a misadventure now
and then, that reaches not his innocence, his health,
or reputation, may not be an ill way to teach him
more caution.

This, I confess, containing one great part of wis-
dom, is not the product of some supeiiicial thoughts,
or much reading ; but the effect of experience and
observation in a man, who has lived in the world with
his eyes open, and conversed with men of all sorts.
And therefore I think it of most value to be instilled
into a young man, upon ail occasions which offer them-
selves, that, when he comes to launch into the deep
himself, he may not be like one at sea without a line,
compass, or sea-chart ; but may have some notice be-
forehand of the rocks and shoals, the currents and
quicksands, and know a little how to steer, that he sink
not, before he get experience. He that thmks not this
of more moment to his son, and for which he more
needs a goveiTior, than the languages and learned sci-
ences, forgets of how much more use it is to judge
right of men, and manage his affairs wisely with them,
than to speak Greek and Latin, or argue in mood and
figure ; or to have his head filled with the abstruse
speculations of natural philosophy and metaphysics ;
nay, than to be well versed in Greek and Roman wri-
ters, though that be much better for a gentleman than
to be a good peripatetic or Cartesian : because those
ancient authors observed and painted mankind well,
and give the best light into that kind of knowledge.
He that goes into the eastern parts of Asia, will find
able and acceptable men, without any of these: but
■without vu'tue, knowledge of the world, and civility, an
accomphshed and valuable man can be found nowhere.

120 LOCKE.

A great part of the learning now in fashion in the
schools of Europe, and that goes ordinarily into the
round of education, a gentleman may, in a good mea-
sure, be unfurnished with, without any great disparage-
ment to himseltj or prejudice to his affairs. But pru-
dence and good breeding are, in all the stations and
occurrences of life, necessary ; and most young men
suffer in the want of them, and come rawer, and more
awkward, into the world than they should, for this
very reason because these qualities, which are, of all
other, the most necessary to be taught, and stand most
in need of the assistance and help of a teacher, are
generally neglected, and thought but a slight, or no
part of a tutor's business. Latin and learning make all
the noise : and the main stress is laid upon his profi-
cienc}' in things, a great part whereof belongs not to
a gentleman's calling ; which is to have the knowledge
of a man of business, a carriage suitable to his rank,
and to be eminent and useful in his country', according
to his station. Whenever either spare hours from that,
or an inclination to perfect himself in some parts of
knowledge, which his tutor did but just enter him in,
set him upon any study ; the first rudiments of it,
which he learned before, w^ill open the way enough for
his o\\Ti industiy to cany him as far as his fancy will
prompt, or his parts enable him to go : or, if he thinks
it may save his time and pains, to be helped over some
difficulties by the hands of a master, he may then take
a man that is perfectly well skilled in it, or choose such
an one as he thinks fittest for his purpose. But to
initiate his pupil in any part of learning, as far as is
necessaiy for a young man in the ordinaiy course of his
studies, an ordinaiy skill iu the governor is enough.
Nor is it requisite that he should be a thorough scholar,
or possess in perfection all those sciences, which it is
convenient a young gentleman should have a taste of,

TUTOR. 121

in some general view, or short system. A gentleman
that would penetrate deeper, must do it by his own
genius and industrj^ afterwards ; for nobody ever went
far in knowledge, or became eminent in any of the
sciences, by the disciphne and constraint of a master.

The great work of a governor is to fashion the car-
riage, and form the mind ; to settle in his pupil good
habits, and the principles of virtue and wisdom ; to
give him, by little and little, a view of mankind ; and
work him into a love and imitation of what is excel-
lent and praiseworthy ; and, in the prosecution of it,
to give him vigour, activity, and industr}*. The studies
which he sets him upon are but, as it were, the exer-
cises of his faculties, and employment of his time, to
keep him from sauntering and idleness, to teach him
application, and accustom him to take pains, and to
give him some little taste of what his own industry
must perfect. For who expects, that under a tutor a
young gentleman should be an accomphshed critic,
orator, or logician ; go to the bottom of metaphysics,
natural philosophy, or mathematics ; or be a master in
history or chronolog}- ? though something of each of
these is to be taught him : but it is only to open the
door, that he may look in, and, as it were, begin an
acquaintance, but not to dwell there : and a governor
would be much blamed, that should keep his pupil too
long, and lead him too far in most of them. But of
good breeding, knowledge of the world, virtue, indus-
tr}', and a love of reputation, he cannot have too
much : and, if he have these, he will not long want
what he needs or desires of the other.

And, since it cannot be hoped he should have time
and strength to learn all things, most pains should be
taken about that which is most necessary ; and that
principally looked after which will be of most and
frequentest use to him in the world.

122 LOCKE.

Seneca complains of the contraiy practice in his
time : and yet the Burgersdiciuses and the Scheiblei*s
did not swarm in those days, as they do now in these.
What would he have thought, if he had lived now,
when the tutors think it their great business to fill the
studies and heads of their pupils with such authors as
these ? He would have had much more reason to say,
as he does, " Non vitse, sed scholoe discimus" ; We
learn not to live, but to dispute; and our education
fits us rather for the university than the world. But it
is no wonder, if those who make the fashion, suit it to
what they have, and not to what their pupils want.
The fashion being once established, who can think it
strange, that in this, as well as in all other things, it
should prevail ; and that the greatest part of those, who
find their account in an easy submission to it, should
be ready to cry out heresy, when any one departs
from it? It is nevertheless matter of astonishment,
that men of quality and parts should suffer themselves
to be so far misled by custom and implicit faith.
Reason, if consulted with, would advise that their
children's time should be spent in acquiring what
might be useful to them when they come to be men,
rather than to have their heads stuffed with a deal of
trash, a great part whereof they usually never do, (it is
certain they never need to,) think on again as long as
they live ; and so much of it as does stick by them
they are only the worse for. This is so well known,
that 1 appeal to parents themselves, who have been at
cost to have their young heirs taught it, whether it be
not ridiculous for their sons to have any tincture of
that sort of learning, when they come abroad into the
world ; whether any appearance of it would not lessen
and disgrace them in company ? And that certainly
must be an admirable acquisition, and deserves well
to make a part in education, which men are ashamed

123

of, where they are most concerned to show their parts
and breeding.

There is yet another reason, wh}- poUteness of man-
ners, and knowledge of the world, should principally
be looked after in a tutor : and that is, because a man
of parts and yeai*s may enter a lad far enough in any
of those sciences, which he has no deep insight into
himself. Books in these will be able to furnish him,
and give him light and precedency enough, to go be-
fore a young follower: but he Avill never be able to set
another right in the knowledge of the world, and,
above all, in breeding, who is a novice in them himself.

This is a knowledge he must have about him, worn
into him by use and convei*sation, and a long forming
himself by what he has observed to be practised and
allowed in the best company. This, if he has it not
of his own, is nowhere to be borrowed, for the use of
his pupil : or if he could find pertinent treatises of it
in books, that would reach all the particulars of an
English gentleman's behaviour ; his own ill-fashioned
example, if he be not well-bred himself, would spoil
all his lectures ; it being impossible, that any one
should come forth well-fashioned out of unpohshed,
ill-bred company.

I say this, not that I think such a tutor is every day
to be met with, or to be had at the ordinary rates : but
that those, who are able, may not be sparing of inquiry
or cost in what is of so great moment ; and that other
parents, whose estates will not reach to greater sala-
ries, may yet remember what they should principally
have an eye to, in the choice of one to whom they
would commit the education of their children ; and
what part they should chiefly look after themselves,
whilst they are under their care, and as often as they
come within their observation ; and not think, that all
lies in Latin and French, or some dry systems of logic
and philosophy.

124 LOCKE.

§ 89. But to return to our method again. Though
I have mentioned the severity of the
father's brow, and the awe settled
thereby in the mind of children when young, as one
main instrument, whereby their education is to be
managed; yet I am far from being of an opinion, that
it should be continued all along to them whilst they
are under the discipline and government of pupilage,
I think it should be relaxed, as fast as their age, dis-
cretion, and good behaviour could allow it ; even to
that degree, that a father will do well, as his son grows
up, and is capable of it, to talk familiarly with him ;
nay, ask his advice, and consult with him, about those
things wherein he has any knowledge or understand-
ing. By this the father will gain two things, both of
great moment. The one is, that it will put serious
considerations into his son's thoughts, better than any
rules or advices he can give him. The sooner you
treat him as a man, the sooner he will begin to be
one : and if you admit him into serious discourses
sometimes with you, you will insensibly raise his mind
above the usual amusements of youth, and those tri-
fling occupations which it is commonly wasted in.
For it is easy to observe, that many young men con-
tinue longer in the thought and conversation of school-
boys, than otherwise they would, because their parents
keep them at that distance, and in that low rank, by
all their carriage to them.

§ 90. Another thing of greater consequence, which
you will obtain by such a way of treating him, will be
his friendship. Many fathers, though they proportion
to their sons liberal allowances, according to their age
and condition ; yet they keep the knowledge of their
estates and concerns from them with as much reserv-
edness as if they were guarding a secret of state from
a spy or an enemy. This, if it looks not like jealousy,
yet it wants those marks of kindness and intimacy,

FAMILIARITY. 125

which a father should show to his son ; and, no doubt,
often Jiinders or abates that cheerfuhiess and satisfac-
tion, wherewith a son should address himself to, and
rely upon, his father. And I cannot but often wonder
to see fathei-s, who love their sons very well, yet so
order the matter, by a constant stiffness, and a mien of
authority and distance to them all their lives, as if they
were never to enjoy or have any comfort from those
they love best iu the world till they have lost them by
being removed into another. Nothing cements and
establishes friendship and good-will so much as con-
fident communication of concernments and affairs.
Other kindnesses, without this, leave still some doubts;
but when your son sees you open your mind to him ;
when he finds that you interest him in your affairs, as
things you are willing should, in their turn, come into
his hands, he will be concerned for them as for his
own ; wait his season with patience, and love you in
the mean time, who keep him not at the distance of a
stranger. This will also make him see, that the enjoy-
ment you have, is not without care ; which the more
he is sensible of, the less will he envy you the posses^
sion, and the more think himself happy imder the
management of so favourable a friend, and so careful
a father. There is scarce any young man of so little
thought, or so void of sense, that would not be glad of
a sure friend, that he might have recourse to, and
freely consult on occasion. The reservedness and dis-
tance that fathers keep often deprive their sons of that
refuge, which would be of more advantage to them
than a hundred rebukes and chidings. Would your
son engage in some frolic, or take a vagary ; were it
not much better he should do it with, than without
your knowledge? For since allowances for such
things must be made to young men, the more you
know of his intrigues and designs, the better will you
be able to prevent great mischiefs ; and, by letting

126 LOCKE.

him see what is hke to follow, take the right way of
prevailing with him to avoid less incoiiveniencies.
Would you have him open his heart to you, and ask
your advice ? You must hegin to do so with him
first, and by your carriage beget that confidence.

§ 91. But whatever he consults you about, unless it
lead to some fatal and irremediable mischief, be sure
you advise only as a friend of more experience ; but
with your advice mingle nothing of command or au-
thority, nor more than you would to your equal, or a
stranger. That would be to drive him forever from
any farther demanding, or receiving advantage from
your counsel. You must consider, that he is a young
man, and has pleasures and fancies, which you are
passed. You must not expect his inclinations should
be just as yours, nor that at twenty he should have the
same thoughts you have at fifty. All that you can
wish is, that since youth must have some liberty, some
outleaps ; they might be with the ingenuity of a son,
and under the eye of a father, and then no very great
harm can come of it. The way to obtain this, as I
said before, is, (according as you find him capable,) to
talk with him about your afiairs, propose matters to
him familiarly, and ask his advice ; and when he ever
fights on the right, follow it as his ; and if it succeed
well, let him have the commendation. This will not
at all lessen your authority, but increase his love and
esteem of you. Whilst you keep your estate, the staff
will still be in your own hands ; and your authority
the surer, the more it is strengthened with confidence
and kindness. For you have not that power you ought
to have over him, till he comes to be more afraid of
offending so good a friend than of losing some part of
his future expectation.

§ 92. Familiarity of discourse, if it can become a
father to his son, may much more be condescended to
by a tutor to his pupil. All their time together should

TUTOR. 127

not be spent in reading of lectures, and magisterially
dictating to him what he is to obser\^e and follow ;
hearing him in his turn, and using him to reason about
what is proposed, will make the rules go down the
easier, and sink the deeper, and will give him a hking
to study and instruction: and he will then begin to
value knowledge, when he sees that it enables him to
discourse : and he finds the pleasure and credit of bear-
ing a pan in the conversation, and of having his reasons
sometimes approved and hearkened to. Paiticularly
in morality, prudence, and breeding, cases should be
put to him, and his judgment asked: this opens the
understanding better than maxims, how well soever
explained ; and settles the rules better in the memory for
practice. This way lets things into the mind, which
stick there, and retain their evidence with them ; where-
as words at best are faint representations, being not so
much as the true shadows of things, and are much
sooner forgotten. He will better comprehend the foun-
dations and measures of decency and justice, and have
livelier and more lasting impressions of what he ought
to do, by giving his opinion on cases proposed, and
reasoning with his tutor on fit instances, than by giv-
ing a silent, negligent, sleepy audience to his tutor's
lectures ; and much more than by captious logical dis-
putes, or set declamations of his own, upon any ques-
tion. The one sets the thoughts upon wit, and false
colours, and not upon truth : the other teaches fallacy,
wrangling, and opiniatr}- ; and they are both of them
things that spoil the judgment, and put a man out of
the way of right and fair reasoning, and therefore care-
fully to be avoided by one who would improve him-
self, and be acceptable to others.

§ 93. When, by making your son sensible that he
depends on you, and is in your power, you have estab-
hshed your authority ; and by being inflexibly severe

128 LOCKE.

in your carriage to him, when obstinately persisting
in any ill-natured trick which you
have forbidden, especially lying, you
have imprinted on his mind that awe which is neces-
sarj- ; and on the other side, when, (by permitting him
the full liberty due to his age, and laying no restraint
in your presence to those childish actions, and gaiety
of carriage, which, whilst he is very young, are as ne-
cessary to him as meat or sleep,) you have reconciled
him to your company, and made him sensible of your
care and love of him by indulgence and tenderness,
especially caressing him on all occasions wherein he
does any thing well, and being kind to him, after a
thousand fashions, suitable to his age, which nature
teaches parents better tiian I can : when, I say, by these
ways of tenderness and affection, which parents never
want for their children, you have also planted in him
a particular affection for you ; he is then in the state
you could desire, and you have formed in his mind
that true reverence, which is always afterwards care-
fully to be continued and maintained in both parts of
it, love and fear, as the great principles whereby you
will always have hold upon him to turn his mind to
the ways of virtue and honour.

§ 94. When this foundation is once well laid, and
you find this reverence begin to work

TEMPER. . , . , , ■ 11

in him, the next thing to be done is
carefully to consider his temper, and the particular
constitution of his mind. Stubbornness, lying, and ill-
natured actions, are not, (as has been said,) to be per-
mitted in him from the beginning, whatever his tem-
per be : those seeds of vices are not to be suffered to
take any root, but must be carefully weeded out as
soon as ever they begin to show themselves in him ;
and your authority is to take place, and influence his
mind from the very dawning of any knowledge in

TE3IPER. 129

him, that it may operate as a natural principle, where-
of he never perceived the beginning; never knew that
it was, or could be otherwise. By this, if the rever-
ence he owes you be estabhshed early, it will always
be sacred to him ; and it will be as hard for him to
resist it, as the principles of his nature.

§ 95. Having thus very early set up your authority,
and, by the gentler applications of it, shamed him out
of what leads towards an immoral habit ; as soon as
you have observed it in him, (for I would by no means
have chiding used, much less blows, till obstinacy and
incorrigibleness make it absolutely necessary,) it will
be lit to consider which way the natural make of his
mind inclines him. Some men, by the unalterable
frame of their constitutions, are stout, others timorous;
some confident, others modest, tractable or obstinate,
curious or careless, quick or slow. There are not
more differences in men's faces, and the outward line-
aments of their bodies, than there are in the makes
and tempers of their minds ; only there is this differ-
ence, that the distinguishing characters of the face, and
the lineaments of the body, grow more plain and visi-
ble with time and age ; but the peculiar physiognomy
of the mind is most discernible in children, before art
and cunning have taught them to hide their deformi-
ties, and conceal their ill inclinations under a dissem-
bled outside.

§ 96. Begin therefore betimes nicely to observe your
son's temper ; and that, when he is under least re-
straint, in his play, and, as he thinks, out of your sight.
See what are his predominant passions, and prevailing
inclinations; whether he be fierce or mild, bold or
bashful, compassionate or cruel, open or reserved, &c.
For as these are different in him, so are your methods
to he different, and your authority must hence take
measures to applv itself different ways to him. These
I

130 LOCKE.

native propensities, these prevalencies of constitution,
are not to be cured by rules, or a direct contest ;
especially those of thetn that are the humbler and
meaner sort, "which proceed from fear and lowness of
spirit ; though with art they may be much mended,
and turned to good purpose. But this be sure of, after
all is done, the bias will always hang on that side where
nature iirst placed it: and, if you carefully observe the
characters of his mind now iu the first scenes of his
life, you will ever after be able to judge which way
his thoughts lean, and what he aims at even hereafter,
when, as he grows up, the plot thickens, and he puts
on several shapes to act it.

§ 97. I told you before, that children love liberty;
and therefore they should be brought
to do the things that are fit for thera,
without feeling any restraint laid upon them. I now
tell you they love something more ; and that is domin-
ion : and this is the first original of most vicious habits,
that are ordinary and natural. This love of power
and dominion shows itself veiy early, and that in these
two things.

§ 98. 1. We see children, (as soon almost as they
are born, I am sure long before they can speak.) cry,
grow peevish, sullen, and out of liumour, for nothing
but to have their wills. They woiild have their desires
submitted to by others ; they contend for a ready com-
pliance from all about them, especially from those that
stand near or beneath them in age or degree, as soon
as they come to consider others with those distinctions.

§ 99. 2. Another thing, wherein they show their
lore of dominion, is their desire to have things to be
theirs ; they would have property and possession ;
pleasing themselves with the power which that seems
to give, and the right they thereby have to dispose of
them as they please. He that has not observed these

CRAV1>G. 131

two humours working very betimes in children, has
taken httle notice of their actions : and he who thinks
that these two roots of ahnost all the injustice and
contention that so disturb human life are not early to
be weeded out, and contrary habits introduced, neglects
the proper season to Jay the foundations of a good and
worthy man. To do this, I imagine, these following
things may somewhat conduce.

§ 100. 1. That a child should never be suffered to
have what he craves, much less what
he cries for, I had said, or so nmch * * '

as speaks for. But that being apt to be misunder-
stood, and interpreted as if I meant a child should
never speak to his parents for any thing, which will
perhaps be thought to Jay too great a curb on the
minds of children, to the prejudice of that love and
affection which should be between them and their
parents; I shall explain myself a liltJe more particu-
larly. It is fit that they should have liberty to declare
their wants to their parents, and that with all tender-
ness they should be hearkened to, and supphed, at
least whilst they are very little. But it is one thing to
say, I am hungiy ; another to say, I would have roast-
meat. Having declared their wants, their natural
wants, the pain they feel from hunger, thirst, cold, or
any other necessity of nature, it is the duty of their
parents, and those about them, to relieve them ; but
children must leave it to the choice and , ordering of
their parents what they think properest for them, and
how much; and must not be permitted to choose for
themselves ; and say, I would have wine, or white
bread ; the very naming of it should make them lose it.

§ 101, That which parents should take care of
here, is to distinguish between the wants of fancy and
those of nature; which Horace has well taught them
to do in this verse,

i2

132 LOCKE.

" Quels liumana sibi doleat natura negatis."
Those are truly natural wants, which reason alone,
without some other help, is not able to fence against,
nor keep from disturbing us. The pains of sickness
and hurts, hunger, thirst, and cold, want of sleep and
rest, or relaxation of the part wearied with labour, are
what all men feel, and the best disposed mind caniiot
but be sensible of their uneasiness ; and therefore
ought, by fit applications, to seek their removal, though
not with impatience, or over-great iiaste, upon the first
approaches of them, where delay does not threaten
some irreparable harm. The pains that come from
the necessities of nature are monitors to us to beware
of greater mischiefs, which they are the forerunners
of; and therefore they must not be wholly neglected,
nor strained too lar. But yet, the more children can
be inured to hardships of this kind, by a wise care to
make them stronger in body and mind, the better it
will be for them. I need not here give any caution to
keep within the bounds of doing them good, and to
take care that what children are made to sufter should
neither break their spirits, nor injure their health ;
parents being but too apt of themselves to incline
more than they should, to the softer side.

But, whatever compliance the necessities of nature
may require, the wants of fancy children should never
be gratified in, nor suffered to mention. The very
speaking for any such thing should make them lose it.
Clothes, when they need, they must have ; but if they
speak for this stuff*, or that colour, they should be sure
to go without it. Not that I would have parents pur-
posely cross the desires of their children in matters of
indifferency : on the contrary, where their carriage
deserves it, and one is sure it will not corrupt or effem-
inate their minds, and make them fond of trifles, I
think all things should be contrived, as much as could

CRAVING. 133

be, to their satisfaction, that they might find the ease
and pleasure of doing well. The best for children is,
that they should not place any pleasure in such things
at all, nor regulate their delight by their fancies ; but
be indifferent to all that nature has made so. This is
what their parents and teachers should chiefly aim at:
but till this be obtained, all that I oppose here, is the
liberty of asking ; which, in these things of conceit,
ought to be restrained by a constant forfeiture an-
nexed to it.

This may perhaps be thought a little too severe, by
the natural indulgence of tender parents : but yet it is
no more than necessary. For since the method I pro-
pose is to banish the rod, this restraint of their tongues
will be of great use to settle that awe we have else-
where spoken of, and to keep up in them the respect
and rev^erence due to their i)arents. Next, it will teach
them to keep in, and so master their inclinations. By
this means they will be brought to learn the art of
stifling their desires, as soon as they rise up in them,
when they are easiest to be subdued. For giving
vent, gives life and strength to our appetites ; and he
that has the confidence to turn his wishes into de-
mands, will be but a little way from thinking he ought
to obtain them. This I am sure of, eveiy one can
more easily bear a denial from himself than from any
body else. They should therefore be accustomed be-
times to consult and make use of their reason, before
they give allowance to their inclinations. It is a great
step towards the masteiy of our desires, to give this
stop to them, and shut them up in silence. This habit,
got by children, of staying the forwardness of their
fancies, and deliberating whether it be fit or no before
they speak, will be of no small advantage to them in
matters of greater consequence in the future course of
their lives. For that which I cannot too often incul-

134 LOCKE.

cate is, that whatever the matter be, about which it is
conversaut, whether great or small, the main, (I had
almost said only,) thing to be considered, in every ac-
tion of a child, is, what influence it will have upon his
mind ; what habit it tends to, and is like to settle in
him; how it will become him when he is bigger; and,
if it be encouraged, whither it will lead him when he
is grown up.

My meaning, therefore, is not that children should
purposely be made uneasy : this would relish too much
of inhumanity and ill-nature, and be apt to infect them
with it. They should be brought to deny their appe-
tites; and their minds, as well as bodies, be made vig-
orous, easy and strong, by the custom of having their
inclinations in subjection, and their bodies exercised
with hardships ; but all this without giving them any
mark or apprehension of ill-will towards them. The
constant loss of what they craved or carved to them-
selves should teach them modesty, submission, and a
power to forbear: but the rewarding their modesty
and silence, by giving them what they liked, should
also assure them of the love of those who rigorously
exacted this obedience. The contenting themselves
now, in the want of what they wished for, is a virtue,
that another time should be rewarded with what is
suited and acceptable to them ; which should be be-
stowed on them, as if it were a natural consequence
of their good behaviour, and not a bargain about it.
But you will lose your labour, and, what is more, their
love and reverence too, if they can receive from others
what you deny them. This is to be kept very stanch,
and carefully to be watched. And here the servants
come again in my way.

§ 102. If this be begun betimes, and they accustom
themselves earlj- lo silence their desires, this usefid
habit will settle them ; and, as they come to grow up

RECREATIO.X. 135

in age and discretion, they may be allowed greater
libeilv ; when reason comes to sneak
in them, and not passion. For when-
ever reason would speak, it should be hearkened to.
But, as they should never be heard, when they speak
for any particular thing they would have, unless it be
first proposed to them ; so they should always be
heard, and fairly and kindly answered, when they ask
after any thing they would know, and desire to be in-
formed about. Curiosity should be as carefully cher-
ished in children as other appetites suppressed.

However strict a hand is to be kept upon all desires
of fancv, vet there is one case where-

. ,. , .1 1 RECREATION.

m tancy must be permitted to speak,
and be hearkened to also. Recreation is as necessary
as labour or food : but because there can be no recre-
ation without delight, which depends not always on
reason, but oftener on fancy, it must be permitted chil-
dren not only to divert themselves, but to do it after
their own fashion, provided it be innocently, and with-
out prejudice to their health ; and therefore in this case
they should not be denied if they proposed any par-
ticular kind of recreation ; though I think, in a well-
ordered education, they will seldom be brought to the
necessity of asking any such liberty. Care should be
taken, that what is of advantage to them, they should
always do with delight ; and, before they are wearied
with one, they should be timely diverted to some other
useful employment. But if they are not yet brought
to that degree of perfection, that one way of improve-
ment can be made a recreation to them, they must be
let loose to the childish play they fancy ; which they
should be weaned from, by being made surfeited of it;
but from things of use, that they are employed in,
they should always be sent away with an appetite ; at
least be dismissed before they are tired, and grow quite

136 LOCKE.

sick of it ; that so they may return to it again, as to a
])leasure that diverts them. For you must uever think
them set right, till they can find delight in the practice
of laudahle things ; and the useful exercises of the body
and mind, taking their turns, make their lives and im-
provement pleasant in a continued train of recreations,
wherein the v^'earied part is constantly relieved and re-
freshed. Whether this can be done in every temper,
or whether tutors and parents will be at the pains, and
have the discretion and patience to bring them to this,
I know not ; but that it may be done in most children,
if a right course be taken to raise in them the desire
of credit, esteem and reputation, I do not at all doubt.
And when they have so much true life put into them,
they may freely be talked with about what most de-
lights them, and be directed, or let loose to it ; so that
they may perceive that they are beloved and cherished,
and that those under whose tuition they are, are not
enemies to their satisfaction. Such a management
will make them in love with the hand that directs them,
and the virtue the}' are directed to.

This farther advantage may be made by a free lib-
erty permitted them in their recreations, that it will
discover their natural tempers, show their inclinations
and aptitudes : and thereb}- direct wise parents in the
choice, both of the course of life and employment they
shall design them for, and of fit remedies, in the mean
time, to be applied to whatever bent of nature they may
observe most likely to mislead any of their children.

§ 103. 2. Children who live together often strive for
mastery, whose wills shall caiTy it over the rest : who-
ever begins the contest, should be sure to be crossed
in it. But not only that, but they should be taught to
have all the deference, complaisance, and civility one
for the other imaginable. This, when, they see it pro-
cures them respect, love, and esteem, and that they

LIBERALITY. 137

lose no superiority by it, they will take more pleasure
in than in insolent domineering ; for so plainly is the
other.

The accusations of children one against another,
which usually are but the clamours

1 , . . . , COMPLAINTS.

ot anger and revenge, desiring aid,
should not be favourably received nor hearkened to. It
weakens and effeminates their minds to suffer them to
complain : and if they endure sometimes crossing or
pain from others, without being permitted to think it
strange or intolerable, it will do them no harm to learn
sufferance, and harden them early. But though you
give no countenance to the complaints of the queru-
lous, yet take care to curb the insolence and ill-nature
of the injurious. When you observe it yourself, re-
prove it before the injured party: but if the complaint
be of something really worth your notice and preven-
tion another time, then reprove the offender by himself
alone, out of sight of him that complained, and make
him go and ask pardon, and make reparation. Which
comhig thus, as it were, from himself, will be the more
cheerfully performed, and more kindly received, the
love strengthened between them, and a custom of civ-
ilty grow familiar amongst your children.

§ 104. 3. As to having and possessing of things,
teach them to part with what thev

1 1 A I- ^ * .\ ■ i- ■ 1 ' LIBERALITY.

have, easily and freely to their friends ;
and let them find by experience, that the most liberal
has always most plenty, with esteem and commenda-
tion to boot, and they will quickly learn to practice it.
This, 1 imagine, will make brothers and sisters kinder
and civiller to one another, and consequently to others,
than twenty rules about good manners, with which
children are ordinarily perplexed and cumbered. CoV'
etousncss, and the desire of having in our possession,
and under our dominion, more than we have need of.

138 LOCKE.

being the root of all evil, should be early and carefully
weeded out : and the contrary- quality, or a readiness
to impart to others, implanted. This should be en-
couraged by great commendation and credit, and con-
stantly taking care, that he loses nothing by his liberal-
ity. Let all the instances he gives of such freeness be
always repaid, and with interest ; and let him sensibly
perceive that the kindness he shows to others is no ill
husbandr}^ for himself; but that it brings a return of
kindness, both from those that receive it, and those
who look on. Make this a contest among children,
who shall outdo one another this way. And by this
means, by a constant practice, children having made it
easy to themselves to part with what they have, good-
nature may be settled in them into an habit, and they
may take pleasure, and pique themselves in being kind,
liberal, and civil to othei*s.

If liberality ought to be encouraged, certainly great
care is to be taken that children trans-

JUSTICE. , 1 /• • • 1

gress not the rules ot justice : and
whenever they do, they should be set right; and, if
there be occasion for it, severely rebuked.

Our tii-st actions being guided more by self-love than
reason or reflection, it is no wonder that in children
they should be veiy apt to deviate from the just meas-
ures of right and wrong, which are in the mind the re-
sult of improved reason and serious meditation. This
the more, they are apt to mistake, the more careful
guard ought to be kept over them, and every the least
slip in this great social virtue taken notice of and recti-
fied ; and that in things of the least weight and mo-
ment, both to instruct their ignorance, and prevent ill
habits, which, from small beginnings, in pins and
cherr}--stones, will, if let alone grow up to higher
frauds, and be in danger to end at last in downright
hardened dishonesty. The first tendency to anyinjus-

JUSTICE. 139

tice that appears must be suppressed with a sliow of
wonder and abliorrency in the parents and govemors.
But because children cannot well comprehend what
injustice is, till they understand property, and how
particular persons come by it, the safest way to secure
honesty, is to lay the foundations of it early in liberal-
ity, and an easiness to part with to others whatever
they have, or like, themselves. This may be taught
them early, before they have language and understand-
ing enough to form distinct notions of property, and to
know what is theirs by a peculiar right exclusive of
others. And since children seldom have any thing but
by gift, and that for the most part from their parents,
they may be at first taught not to take or keep any
thing, but what is given them by those whom they take
to have a power over it ; and, as their capacities en-
large, other rules and cases of justice, and rights con-
cerning " meum " and " tuum," may be proposed and
inculcated. If any act of injustice in them appears to
proceed, not from mistake, but perversencss in their
wills, when a gentle rebuke and shame will not reform
this irregular and covetous inclination, rougher remedies
must be applied : and it is but for the father or tutor
to take and keep from them something that they value,
and think their own ; or order somebody else to do it ;
and by such instances make them sensible, what little
advantage they are like to make, by possessing them-
selves unjustly of what is another's, whilst there are in
the world stronger and more men than they. But if
an ingenuous detestation of this shameful vice be but
carefully and early instilled into them, as I think it
may, that is the true and genuine method to obviate
this crime ; and will be a better guard against dishon-
esty than any considerations drawn from interest ; hab-
its working more constantly, and with greater facility,
than reason : which, when we have most need of it,
is seldom fairly consulted, and more rarely obeyed.

140 LOCKE.

§ 105. Crying is a fault that should not he tolerat-
ed ill children : not only for the un-
CRY1>'G. , ' , '. . .,

pleasant and unbecomnig noise it

fills the house with, hut for more considerable reasons,
in reference to the children themselves ; which is to
be our aim in education.

Their crying is of two sorts ; either stubborn and
domineering, or querulous and whining.

1. Their crying is very often a striving for mastery,
and an open declaration of their insolence or obstina-
cy : when they have not the power to obtain their de-
sire, they will, by their clamour and sobbing, maintain
their title and right to it. This is an avowed continu-
ing of their claim, and a sort of remonstrance against
the oppression and injustice of those who deny them
what they have a mind to.

§ 106. 2. Sometimes their crying is the effect of
pain or true sorrow, and a bemoaning themselves un-
der it.

These two, if carefully observed, may, by the mien,
looks, and actions, and particularly by the tone of their
crying, be easily distinguished ; but neither of them
must be suffered, much less encouraged.

1. The obstinate or stomachful crying should by no
means be permitted ; because it is but another way of
flattering their desires, and encouraging those passions,
which it is our main business to subdue : and if it be
as often it is, upon the receiving any correction, it
quite defeats all the good effects of it ; for any chas-
tisement which leaves them in this declared opposition,
only serves to make them worse. The restraints and
punishments laid on children are all misapplied and
lost, as far as they do not prevail over their wills, teach
them to submit their passions, and make their minds
supple and pliant to what their parents' reason advises
them now, and so prepare them to obey what their
own reason shall advise hereafter. But if, in any thing

CRYING. 141

wherein they are crossed, they may be suffered to go
away crying, they confirm themselves in their desires,
and cherish the ill-humour, with a declaration of their
right, and a resolution to satisfy ^heir inclinations the
first oi)portunity. This, therefore is another argument
against the frequent use of blows ; for whenever you
come to that extremity, it is not enough to whip or beat
them ; yon must do it, till you find you have subdued
their minds ; till with submission and patience they
yield to the correction ; which you shall best discover
by their crying, and their ceasing from it upon your
bidding. Without this, the beating of children is but
a passionate tyranny over them : and it is mere cruelty,
and not correction, to put their bodies in pain without
doing their minds any good. As this gives us a reason
why children should seldom be corrected, so it also
prevents their being so. For if, whenever they are
chastised, it were done thus without passion, soberly,
and yet effectually too, laying on the blows and smart,
not furiously and all at once, but slowly, with reason-
ing between, and with observation how it wrought,
stopping when it had made them pliant, penitent, and
yielding ; they would seldom need the like punishment
again, being made careful to avoid the fault that de-
served it. Besides, by this means, as the punishment
would not be lost, for being too little, and not effectual ;
so it would be kept from being too much, if we gave
off as soon as we perceived that it reached the mind,
and that was bettered. For, since the chiding or beat-
ing of children should be always the least that possibly
may be, that which is laid on in the heat of anger sel-
dom observes that measure ; but is commonly more
than it should be, though it proves less than enough.

§ 107. 2. Many children are apt to cry, upon any
little pain they suffer ; and the least harm that befalls
them puts them into complaints and bawling. This

142 LOCKE.

few children avoid ; for it being the first and natural
way to declare their sufferings or wants, before they
can speak, the compassion that is thought due to that
tender age foolishly encourages, and continues it in
them long after they can speak. It is the duty, I con-
fess, of those about children to compassionate them,
whenever they suffer any hurt ; but not to show it in
pitying them. Help and ease them the best you can,
but by no means bemoan them. This softens their
minds, and makes them yield to the little harms that
happen to them ; whereby they sink deeper into that
part which alone feels, and make larger wounds there,
than otherwise they would. They should be hardened
against all sufferings, especially of the body, and have
no tenderness but what rises from an ingenuous shame
and a quick sense of reputation. The many inconve-
niencies this life is ex})osed to require we should not be
too sensible of every little hurt. What our minds
yield not to, makes but a slight impression, and does
us but very little harm : it is the suffering of our spir-
its that gives and continues the pain. This brawniness
and insensibility of mind, is the best armour we can
have against the common evils and accidents of life ;
and being a temper that is to be got by exercise and
custom, more than any other way, the practice of it
should be begun betimes, and happy is he that is taught
it early. That effeminacy of spirit, which is to be
prevented or cured, and which nothing, that I know,
so much increases in children as crying ; so nothing,
on the other side, so much checks and restrains, as
their being hindered from that sort of complaining.
In the little harms they suffer, from knocks and falls,
they should not be pitied for falling, but bid do so
again ; which, besides that it stops their crying, is a
better way to cure their heedlessness, and prevent their
tumbling another time, than either chiding or bemoan-

FOOL-HARDINESS. 143

ing tlicm. But, let the hurts they receive be what
they will, stop their crying, and that will give them
more quiet and ease at present, and harden them for
the future.

§108. The former sort of crying requires severity
to silence it ; and where a look, or a positive command,
will not do it, blows must : for it proceeding from
pride, obstinacy, and stomach, the will, where the
fault lies, must be bent, and made to comply, by a
rigour sufficient to master it : but this latter, being
ordinarily from softness of mind, a quite contrary
cause, ought to be treated with a gentler hand. Per-
suasion, or diverting the thoughts another way, or
laughing at their whining, may perhaps be at first the
proper method. But for this, the circumstances of the
thing, and the particular temper of the child, must
be considered : no certain invariable rules can be given
about it ; but it must be left to the prudence of the
parents or tutor. But this I think I may say in general,
that there should be a constant discountenancing of this
sort of crying also ; and that the father, by his autho-
rity, should, always stop it, mixing a greater degree of
roughness in his looks or words, proportionably as the
child is of a greater age, or a sturdier temper ; but
always let it be enough to silence their whimpering,
and put an end to the disorder.

§ 109. Cowardice and courage are so nearly related
to the fore-mentioned tempers, that

^1 • 1 . . I I'OOL-HARDIXESS.

]t may not be amiss here to take
notice of them. Fear is a passion, that, if rightly
governed, has its use. And though self-love sel-
dom fails to keep it watchful and high enough in us,
3'et there may he an excess on the daring side; fool-
liardiness and insensibility of danger being as little
reasonable, as trembling and shrinking at the approach
of every little evil. Fear was given us as a monitor

]44 LOCKE.

to quicken our industiy, and keep us upon our guard
against the approaches of evil ; and therefore to have
no apprehension of mischief at hand, not to make a
just estimate of the danger, but lieedlessly to run into
it, be the hazard what it ^vill, without considering of
what use or consequence it may be : is not the resolu-
tion of a rational creaturc, but brutish fuiy. Those
who have children of this temper, have nothing to do,
but a little to awaken their reason, which self-preser-
vation will quickly dispose them to hearken to ; unless,
(which is usually the case,) some other passion humes
them on headlong, without sense, and without consid-
eration. A dislike of evil is so natural to mankind,
that nobody, I think, can be without fear of it ; fear
being nothing but an uneasiness under the apprehen-
sion of that coming upon us which we dislike. And
therefore, whenever any one runs into danger, we may
say it is under the conduct of ignorance, or the com-
mand of some more imperious passion, nobody being
so much an enemy to himself, as to come within the
reach of evil out of free choice, and court danger for
danger's sake. If it be therefore pride, vain-gloiy, or
rage, that silences a child's fear, or makes him not
liearken to its ad^'ice, those are by fit means to be aba-
ted, that a little consideration may allay his heat, and
make him bethink himself whether this attempt be
worth the venture. But this being a fault that chil-
dren are not so often guilty of, I shall not be more par-
ticular in its cure. Weakness of spirit is the more com-
mon defect, and therefore will require the greater care.

Fortitude is the guard and support of the other vir-
tues ; and without courage a man will scarce keep
steady to his duty, and fill up the character of a truly
worthy man.

Courage, that makes us bear up against dangers
that we fear, and evils that we feel, is of great use in

COURAGE, 145

an estate, as ours is in this life, exposed to assaults on
all hands: and therefore it is very
advisable to get children into this '^^^*

armour as early as we can. Natural temper, I confess,
does here a great deal ; but even where that is defec-
tive, and the heart is in itself weak and timorous, it
may, by a right management, be brought to a better
resolution. What is to be done to prevent breaking
children's spirits by frightful apprehensions instilled in-
to them when young, or bemoaning themselves under
ever}' little suffering, I have already taken notice. How
to harden their tempers, and raise their courage, if we
find them too much subject to fear, is farther to be
considered.

True fortitude I take to be the quiet possession of a
man's self, and an undisturbed doing his duty, what-
ever evil besets, or danger lies in his way. This there
are so few men attain to, that we are not to expect it
from children. But yet something may be done ; and
a wise conduct, by insensible degrees, may cari-y them
farther than one expects.

The neglect of this great care of them, whilst they
are young, is the reason, perhaps, why there are so
few that have this virtue, in its full latitude, when
they are men, I should not say this in a nation so
naturally brave as ours is, did I think that true forti-
tude required nothing but courage in the field, and a
contempt of life in the face of an enemy. This, I
confess, is not the least part of it, nor can be denied
the laurels and honoui-s always justly due to the valour
of those who venture their lives for their country. But
yet this is not all : dangers attack us in other places
besides the field of battle ; and though death be the
king of terrors, yet pain, disgrace, and poverty, have
frightful looks, able to discompose most men, whom
thev seem readv to seize on : and there are those who
K

146 LOCKE.

contemn some of these, and yet are heartily frighted
with the other. True fortitude is prepared for dangers
of all kinds, and unmoved, whatsoever e%nl it be that
threatens : I do not mean unmoved with any fear at all.
Where danger shows itself, apprehension cannot, with-
out stupidity, be wanting. Where danger is, sense of
danger should be ; and so much fear as should keep
us awake, and excite our attention, industry, and vig-
our ; but not disturb the calm use of our reason, nor
hinder the execution of what that dictates.

The first step to get this noble and manly steadiness,
is, what I have above mentioned, carefully to keep
children from frights of all kinds, when they are young.
Let not any fearful apprehensions be talked into them,
nor terrible objects surprise them. This often so
shatters and discomposes the spirits, that they never
recover it again ; but, during their whole life, upon
the first suggestion, or appearance of any terrifying
idea, are scattered and confounded ; the body is ener-
vated, and the mind disturbed, and the man scarce
himself, or capable of any composed or rational action.

Whether this be from an habitual
COWARDICE. . ^ , .....

motion of the aumial spn-its, mtro-

duced by the first strong impression ; or from the
alteration of the constitution, by some more unac-
countable way ; this is certain, that so it is. Instances
of such, who in a weak, timorous mind have borne,
all their whole lives through, the effects of a fright
when they were young, are eveiy where to be seen ;
and therefore, as much as may be, to be prevented.

The next thing is, by gentle degrees, to accustom
children to those things they are too much afraid of.
But here great caution is to be used, that you do not
make too much haste, nor attempt this cure too early,
for fear lest you increase the mischief instead of reme-
dying it. Little ones in arms may be easily kept out

COWARDICE. 147

of the way of terrifyiug objects, and, till they can talk
and understand what is said to them, are scarce capa-
ble of that reasoning and discourse, which should be
used to let them know there is no harm in those fright-
ful objects, which we would make them familiar with,
and do, to that purpose, by gentle degrees, bring nearer
and nearer to them. And therefore it is seldom there
is need of any application to them of this kind, till
after they can run about and talk. But yet, if it should
happen, that infants should have taken offence at any
thing which cannot be easily kept out of their way ;
and that they show marks of terror, as often as it comes
in sight ; all the allays of fright, by diverting their
thoughts, or mixing pleasant and agreeable appearances
with it, must be used, till it be grown familiar and in-
offensive to them.

I think we may observe, that when children are lirst
born, all objects of sight, that do not hurt the eyes,
are indifferent to them ; and they are no more afraid
of a blackamoor, or a lion, than of their nurse, or a
cat. AVhat is it then, that afterwards, in certain mix-
tures of shape and colour, comes to affright them ?
Nothing but the apprehensions of harm that accom-
panies those things. Did a child suck every day a new
nurse, I make account it would be no more affrighted
with the change of faces at six months old than at
sixty. The reason then, why it will not come to a
stranger, is, because, having been accustomed to re-
ceive its food and kind usage only from one or two that
are about it, the child apprehends, by coming into the
arms of a stranger, the being taken from what delights
and feeds it, and every moment supplies its wants,
which it often feels, and therefore fears when the nurse
is a^^'ay.

The only thing we naturally are afraid of, is pain,
or loss of pleasure. And because these are not an-
K 2

148 LOCKE.

nexed to any shape, colour, or size of visible objects,
we are friorhted with none of tliem,

TIMOROUSNESS. .., . , ° , ^ , . ^ '

till either we have felt pain from
them, or have notions put into us that they will do us
harm. The pleasant brightness and lustre of flame
and fire so delights children, that at first they always
desire to be handling of it : but when constant experi-
ence has convinced them, by the exquisite pain it
has put them to, how cruel and unmerciful it is, they
are afraid to touch it, and carefully avoid it. This
being the ground of fear, it is not hard to find whence
it arises, and how it is to be cured in all mistaken ob-
jects of terror: and when the mind is confirmed
against them, and has got a mastery over itself, and its
usual fears, in lighter occasions, it is in good prepara-
tion to meet more real dangers. Your child shrieks,
and runs away at the sight of a frog ; let another catch
it, and lay it down at a good distance from him : at first
accustom him to look upon it ; when he can do that,
then to come nearer to it, and see it leap without emo-
tion ; then to touch it lightly, when it is held fast in
another's hand ; and so on, till he can come to handle
it as confidently as a butterfly, or a sparrow. By the
same way any other vain terrors may be removed, if
care be taken that you go not too fast, and push not
the child on to a new degree of assurance, till he be
thoroughly confirmed in the former. And thus the
young soldier is to be trained on to the warfare of life ;
wherein care is to be taken, that more things be not
represented as dangerous than really are so ; and then,
that whatever you observe him to be more frighted at
than he should, you be sure to toll him on to, by in-
sensible degrees, till he at last, quitting his fears, mas-
ters the diflSculty, and comes off with applause. Suc-
cesses of this kind, often repeated, will make him find,
that evils are not always so certain, or so great, as our

HARDINESS. 149

fears represent them ; and that the way to avoid them
is not to run away, or be discomposed, dejected, and
deterred by fear, where either our credit, or duty, re-
quires us to go on.

But since the great foundation of fear in children is
pain, the way to harden and fortify „.T,T.Tx-r««

children agamst fear and danger, is
to accustom them to suffer pain. This, it is possible,
will be thought, by kind parents, a very unnatural thing
towards their children ; and by most, unreasonable, to
endeavour to reconcile any one to the sense of pain, by
bringing it upon him. It will be said, it may perhaps
give the child an aversion for him that makes him suf-
fer ; but can never recommend to him suffering itself
This is a strange method. You will not have children
whipped and punished for their faults ; but you would
have them tormented for doing well, or for torment-
ing's sake. I doubt not but such objections as these
will be made, and I shall be thought inconsistent with
myself, or fantastical, in proposing it. I confess, it
is a thing to be managed with great discretion ; and
therefore it falls not out amiss, that it will not be re-
ceived or relished, but by those who consider well,
and look into the reason of things. I would not have
children much beaten for their faults, because I would
not have them think bodily pain the greatest punish-
ment : and I would have them, when they do well, be
sometimes put in pain, for the same reason, that they
might be accustomed to bear it without looking on it
as the greatest evil. How much education may recon-
cile young people to pain and sufferance, the examples
of Sparta do sufficiently show : and they who have
once brought themselves not to think bodily pain the
greatest of evils, or that which they ought to stand
most in fear of, have made no small advance towards
virtue. But I am not so foolish to propose the Lace-

150

dBemoiiian discipline in our age or constitution : but
yet I do say, that inuring children gently to suffer some
degrees of pain without shrinking, is a way to gain firm-
ness to their minds, and lay a foundation for courage
and resolution in the future part of their lives.

Not to bemoan them, or permit them to bemoan
themselves, on every little i)ain they suffer, is the first
step to be made. But of this I have spoken elsewhere.

The next thing is, sometimes designedly to put them
in pain : but care must be taken that this be done
when the child is in good humour, and satisfied of the
good-will and kindness of him that hurts him, at the
time that he does it. There must no marks of anger
or displeasure on the one side, nor compassion or re-
penting on the other, go along with it ; and it nnist be
sure to be no more than the child can bear, without
repining or taking it amiss, or for a punishment. Man-
aged by these degrees, and with such circumstances, I
have seen a child run away laughing, with good smart
blows of a wand on his back, who would have cried
for an unkind word, and have been very sensible of
the chastisement of a cold look, from the same person.
Satisf}' a child, by a constant course of your care and
kindness, that you perfectly love him ; and he may by
degrees be accustomed to bear very painful and rough
usage from you, without flinching or complaining: and
this we see children do every day in play one with an-
other. The softer you find your child is, the more
you are to seek occasions at fit times thus to harden
him. The great art in this is to begin with what is
but very little painful, and to proceed by insensible de-
grees, when you are playing, and in good humour with
him, and speaking well of him : and when you have
once got him to think himself made amends for his
suffering, by the praise given him for his courage ;
when he can take a pride in giving such marks of his

CRUELTY. 151

manliness, and can prefer the reputation of being brave
and stout, to the avoiding a httle pain, or the shrinlving
under it ; you need not despair in time, and by the as-
sistance of his growing reason, to master his timorous-
ness, and mend the weakness of his constitution. As
he grows bigger he is to be set upon bolder attempts
than his natural temper carries him to ; and whenever
he is observed to flinch from what one has reason to
think he would come off" well in, if he had but courage
to undertake ; that he should be assisted in at first, and
by degrees shamed to, till at last practice has given
more assurance, and with it a mastery, which must be
rewarded with great praise, and the good opinion of
others, for his performance. When by these steps he
has got resolution enough not to be deterred from what
he ought to do, by the apprehension of danger ; when
fear does not, in sudden or hazardous occurrences, dis-
compose his mind, set Ms body a trembling, and make
him unfit for action, or run away from it ; he has then
the courage of a rational creature ; and such an hardi-
ness we should endeavour by custom and use to bring
children to, as proper occasions come in our way.

§ 110. One thing I have frequently observed in chil-
dren, that when they have got pos-

. r- 1 CRUELTY.

session of any poor creature, they are
apt to use it ill ; they often torment and treat very
roughly young birds, butterflies, and such other poor
animals, which fall into their hands, and that with a
seeming kind of pleasure. This, I think, should be
watched in them ; and if they incline to any such cru-
elty, they should be taught the contrary usage ; for the
custom of tormenting and killing of beasts will by de-
grees, harden their minds even towards men ; and they
who delight in the sufiering and destruction of inferior
creatures, will not be apt to be very compassionate or
benign to those of their own kind. Our practice takes

152 LOCKE.

notice of thds, in the exclusion of butchers from juries
of hfe and death. Children should from the beginning
be bred up in an abhorrence of killing or tormenting
any hving creature, and be taught not to spoil or des-
troy any thing, unless it be for the preservation or ad-
vantage of some other that is nobler. And truly, if the
preservation of all mankind, as much as in him lies,
were every one's persuasion, as indeed it is every one's
duty, and the true principle to regulate our religion,
poUtics, and morality by, the world would be much
quieter, and better-natured, than it is. But to return
to our present business : I cannot but commend both
the kindness and prudence of a mother I knew, who
was wont always to indulge her daughters, when any
of them desired dogs, squirrels, birds, or any such
things, as young girls used to be dehghted with : but
then, when they had them, they must be sure to keep
them well, and look diligently after them, that they
wanted nothing, or were not ill used ; for, if they were
negligent in their care of them, it was counted a great
fault, which often forfeited their ])ossession ; or at least
they failed not to be rebuked for it, whereby they were
early taught diligence and good-nature. And indeed I
think people should be accustomed, from their cradles,
to be tender to all sensible creatures, and to spoil or
waste nothing at all.

This delight they take in doing of mischief, (whereby
I mean spoiling of any thing to no purpose, but more
especially the pleasure they take to put any thing in
pain that is capable of it,) I cannot persuade myself to
be any other than a foreign and introduced disposition,
an habit borrowed from custom and conversation.
People teach children to strike, and laugh when they
hurt, or see harm come to others ; and they have the
examples of most about them to confirm them in it.
All the entertainment of talk and history is of nothing

CRUELTY. 153

almost but fighting and killing ; and the honour and
renown that is bestowed on conquerors, (who for the
most part are but the great butchers of mankind,) far-
ther mislead growing youths, who by this means come
to think slaughter the laudable business of mankind,
and the most heroic of virtues. By these steps unnat-
ural cruelty is planted in us ; and what humanity ab-
hors, custom reconciles and recommends to us, by lay-
ing it in the way to honour. Thus, by fashion and
opinion, that comes to be a pleasure, which in itself
neither is, nor can be any. This ought carefully to be
watched and early remedied, so as to settle and cherish
the contrary and more natural temper of benignity and
compassion in the room of it ; but still by the same
gentle methods, which are to be applied to the other
two faults before mentioned. It may not perhaps be
unreasonable here to add this farther caution, viz, that
the mischiefs or harms that come by play, inadverten-
cy, or ignorance, and w-ere not known to be harms, or
designed for mischief's sake, though they may perhaps
be sometimes of considerable damage, yet are not at
all, or but very gently to be taken notice of. For this,
I think, I cannot too often inculcate, that whatever
miscarriage a child is guilty of, and whatever be the
consequence of it, the thing to be regarded in taking
notice of it, is only what root it springs from, and what
habit it is like to establish ; and to that the correction
ought to be directed, and the child not to suffer any
punishment for any harm which may have come by his
play or inadvertency. The faults to be amended lie in
the mind; and if they are such as either age will cure,
or no ill habits will follow from, the present action,
whatever displeasing circumstances it may have, is to
be passed by without any animadversion.

§ 111. Another way to instil sentiments of human-
ity, and to keep them lively in young folks, will be, to

154 LOCKE.

accustom them to civility, in their language and de-
portment towards their inferiors, and the meaner sort
of people, particularly servants. It is not unusual to
observe the children, in gentlemen's families, treat the
servants of the house with domineering words, names
of contempt, and an imperious carriage ; as if they
were of another race, and species beneath them.
Whether ill example, the advantage of fortune, or their
natural vanity, inspire this haughtiness, it should be
prevented or weeded out ; and a gentle, courteous,
affable carriage towards the lower ranks of men, placed
in the room of it. No part of their superiority will be
hereby lost, but the distinction increased, and their
authority strengthened, when love in inferiors is joined
to outward respect, and an esteem of the person has a
share in their submission ; and domestics will pay a
more ready and cheerful service, when they find them-
selves not spurned, because fortune has laid them be-
low the level of others, at their master's feet. Children
should not be suffered to lose the consideration of hu-
man nature in the shufflings of outward conditions :
the more they have, the better humoured they should
be taught to be, and the more compassionate and gen-
tle to those of their brethren who are placed lower,
and have scantier portions. If they are suffered from
their cradles to treat men ill and rudely, because by
their father's title, they think they have a little power
over them ; at best it is ill-bred ; and, if care be not
taken, will, by degrees, nurse up their natural pride
into an habitual contempt of those beneath them : and
where will that probably end, but in oppression and
cruelty ?

§ 1]2. Curiosity in children, (which I had occasion
just to mention, § 102,) is but an ap-
petite after knowledge, and therefore
ought to be encouraged in them, not only as a good

CCRIOSITY. 155

sign, but as the great instrument nature has provided,
to remove that ignorance they were bom with, and
which without this busy inquisitiveness will make
them dull and useless creatures. The ways to en-
courage it, and keep it active and busy, are, I suppose,
these following :

1. Not to check or discountenance any inquiries he
shall make, nor suffer them to be laughed at ; but to
answer all his questions, and explain the matters he
desires to know, so as to make them as much intelli-
gible to him, as suits the capacity of his age and
knowledge. But confound not his understanding with
explications or notions that are above it, or with the
variety or number of things that are not to his present
purpose. Mark what it is his mind aims at in the
question, and not what words he expresses it in : and,
when you have informed and satisfied him in that,
you shall see how his thoughts will enlarge them-
selves, and how by fit answers he may be led on far-
ther than perhaps you could imagine. For knowledge
is grateful to the understanding, as light to the eyes:
children are pleased and delighted with it exceedingly,
especially if they see that their inquiries are regarded,
and that their desire of knowing is encouraged and
commended. And I doubt not but one great reason,
why many children abandon themselves wholly to
silly sports, and trifle away all their time insipidly, is,
because they have found their curiosity baulked, and
their inquiries neglected. But had they been treated
with more kindness and respect, and their questions
answered, as they should, to their satisfaction, I doubt
not but they would have taken more pleasure in learn-
ing, and improving their knowledge, wherein there
would be still newness and variety, which is what
they are delighted with, than in returning over and
over to the same play and play-things.

156 LOCKE.

§ 113. 2. To ihis serious answering their questions,
and informing their understandings in what they de-
sire, as if it were a matter that needed it, should be
added some peculiar ways of commendation. Let
others, whom they esteem, be told before their faces
of the knowledge they have in such and such things ;
and since we are all, even from our cradles, vain and
proud creatures, let their vanity be flattered with things
that %\'ill do them good ; and let their pride set them
on work on sometliiug which may turn to their advan-
tage. Upon this ground you shall find, that there can-
not be a greater spur to the attaining what you would
have the elder learn and know himself, than to set him
upon teaching it his younger brothers and sistei-s.

§ 114. 3. As children's inquiries are not to be
slighted, so also gi'eat care is to be taken, that they
never receive deceitful and illuding answers. They
easily perceive when they are slighted or deceived, and
quickly learn the trick of neglect, dissimulation, and
falsehood, which they observe others to make use of.
We are not to intrench upon truth in any conversa-
tion, but least of all with children ; since, if we play
false with them, we not only deceive their expectation,
and hinder their knowledge, but corrupt their inno-
cence, and teach them the worst of vices. They are
travellers newly amved in a strange country, of which
they know nothing: we should therefore make con-
science not to mislead them. And though their ques-
tions seem sometimes not very material, yet they
should be seriously answered ; for however they may
appear to us, (to whom they are long since known,)
inquiries not worth the making, they are of moment to
those who are wholly ignorant. Children are strang-
ers to all we are acquainted with ; and all the things
they meet with, are at fii-st unkno\\'n to them, as they
once were to us : and happy are they who meet with

CURIOSITY. 157

civil people, that will comply Avith their ignorance, and
help them to get out of it.

If you or I now should be set down in Japan, with
all our prudence and knowledge about us, a conceit
whereof makes us perhaps so apt to slight the thoughts
and inquiries of children ; should we, I say, be set
down in Japan, we should, no doubt, (if we would in-
form ourselves of what is there to be known,) ask a
thousand questions, which, to a supercilious or incon-
siderate Japanese, would seem very idle and imperti-
nent ; though to us they would be very material, and
of importance to be resolved ; and we should be glad
to find a man so complaisant and courteous, as to sat-,
isfy our demands, and instruct our ignorance.

When any new thing comes in their way, children
usually ask the common question of a stranger. What
is it ? whereby they ordinarily mean nothing but the
name ; and therefore to tell them how it is called, is
usually the proper answer to that demand. The next
question usually is. What is it for ? And to this it
should be answered truly and directly : the use of the
thing should be told, and the way explained, how it
serves to such a purpose, as far as their capacities can
comprehend it; and so of any other circumstances
they shall ask about it ; not turning them going, till
you have given them all the satisfaction they are capa-
ble of, and so leading them by your answers into far-
ther questions. And perhaps to a grown man such
conversation will not be altogether so idle and insig^
nificant, as we are apt to imagine. The native and
untaught suggestions of inquisitive children do often
offer things that may set a considering man's thoughts
on work. And I think there is frequently more to be
learned from the unexpected questions of a child, than
the discourses of men, who talk in a road, according
to the notions they have boiTowed, and the prejudices
of their education.

158

§ ]15. 4. Perhaps it may not sometimes be amiss
to excite their curiosity, by bringing strange and new
things in their way, on purpose to engage their inquiry,
and give them occasion to inform themselves about
them ; and if by chance their curiosity leads them to
ask what they should not know, it is a great deal bet-
ter to tell them plainly, that it is a thing that belongs
not to them to know, than to pop tliem off with a
falsehood, or a frivolous answer.

§ 116. Pertness, that appears sometimes so early,
proceeds from a principle that seldom accompanies a
strong constitution of body, or ripens into a strong
judgment of mind. If it were desirable to have a child
a more brisk talker, I believe there might be ways
found to make him so ; but, I suppose, a wise father
had rather that his son should be able and useful, when
a man, than pretty company, and a diversion to others,
whilst a child ; though, if that too were to be consid-
ered, I think I may say, there is not so much pleasure
to have a child prattle agreeably, as to reason well.
Encourage therefore his inquisitiveness all you can, by
satisfying his demands, and informing his judgment,
as far as it is capable. When his reasons are any way
tolerable, let him find the credit and commendation of
them ; and when they are quite out of the w^ay, let
him, without being laughed at for his mistake, be
gently put into the right ; and if he show a forward-
ness to be reasoning about things that come in his
way, take care, as much as you can, that nobody check
this inclination in him, or mislead it by captious or
fallacious ways of talking with him : for, when all is
done, this, as the highest and most important faculty
of our minds, deserves the greatest care and attention
in cultivating it ; the right improvement and exercise
of our reason being the highest perfection that a man
can attain to in this life.

§ 117. Contrary to this busy inquisitive temper,

SAUNTERING. 159

there is sometimes observable in children a hstless
carelessness, a want of resard to any

1- J -. ^.•^•" . SAUNTERING.

thing, and a sort oi trifling, even at
their business. This sauntering humour I look on as
one of the worst qualities can appear in a child, as
well as one of the hardest to be cured, where it is nat-
ural. But, it being hable to be mistaken in some cases,
care must be taken to make a right judgment concern-
ing that trifling at their books or business, which may
sometimes he complained of in a child. Upon the first
suspicion a father has, that his son is of a sauntering
temper, he must carefully observe him, whether he be
listless and indiflerent in all his actions, or whether in
some things alone he be slow and sluggish, but in
others vigorous and eager : for though he find that he
does loiter at his book, and let a good deal of the time
he spends in his chamber or study run idly away, he
must not presently conclude, that this is from a saun-
tering humour in his temper ; it may be childishness,
and a preferring something to his study, which his
thoughts run on ; and he dislikes his book, as is natu-
ral, because it is forced upon him as a task. To know
this perfectly, you must watch him at play, when he is
out of his place and time of study, following his own
inclinations ; and see there, whether he be stirring and
active ; whether he designs any thing, and with labour
and eagerness pursues it, till he lias accomplished
what he aimed at ; or whether he lazily and listlessly
dreams away his time. If this sloth be only when he
is about his book, I think it may be easily cured ; if
it be in his temper, it will require a little more pains
and attention to remedy it.

§ 118. If you are satisfied, by his earnestness at
play, or any thing else he sets his mind on, in the in-
tervals between his hours of business, that he is not of
himself inclined to laziness, but that only want of relish

ICO LOCKE.

of his book makes him negligent and sluggish in his
appHcation to it ; the first step is to try, by talking to
him kindly of the folly and inconvenience of it,
whereby he loses a good part of his time, which he
might have for his diversion : but be sure to talk
calmly and kindly, and not much at first, but only
these plain reasons in short, If this prevails, you have
gained the point in the most desirable way, which is
that of reason and kindness. If this softer application
prevails not, try to shame him out of it, by laughing at
him for it, asking every day, when he comes to table,
if there be no strangers there, " how long he was that
day about his business ?" And if he has not done it,
in the time he might be well supposed to have des-
patched it, expose and turn him into ridicule for it ;
but mix no chiding, only put on a pretty cold brow
towards him, and keep it till he reform ; and let his
mother, tutor, and all about him, do so too. If this
work not the effect you desire, then tell him, " he shall
be no longer troubled with a tutor to take care of his ed-
ucation : you will not be at the charge to have him spend
his time idly with him ; but since he prefers this or that,
[whatever play he delights in,] to his book, that only
he shall do ;" and so in earnest set him to work on his
beloved play, and keep him steadily, and in earnest to
it, morning and afternoon, till he be fully surfeited, and
would, at any rate, change it for some hours at his book
again : but when you thus set him his task of play,
you must be sure to look after him yourself, or set
somebody else to do it, that may constantly see him
employed in it, and that he be not permitted to be idle
at that too. I say, yourself look after him ; for it is
worth the father's while, whatever business he has, to
bestow two or three days upon his son, to cure so great
a mischief as his sauntering at his business.

§ 119. This is what I propose, if it be idleness, not

SAUXTERI-NG. 161

from his general temper, but a peculiar or acquired
avei-sion to learning, which you must be careful to
examine and distinguish. But though you have your
eyes upon him, to watch what he does with the time
which he has at his own disposal, yet you must not let
him perceive that you, or any body else do so : for
that may hinder him from following his own inclina-
tion, which he being full of, and not daring, for fear of
you, to prosecute what his head and heart are set upon,
he may neglect all other things, which then he relishes
not, and so may seem to be idle and listless ; when, in
truth, it is nothing but being intent on that, which the
fear of your eye or knowledge keeps him from execut-
ing. To be clear in this point, the observation must
be made when you are out of the way, and he not so
much as under the restraint of a suspicion that any
body has an eye upon him. In those seasons of per-
fect freedom, let somebody you can trust mark how he
spends his time, whether he inactively loiters it away,
when, without any check, he is left to his own inclina-
tion. Thus, by his employing of such times of liber-
ty, you will easily discern whether it be listlessness in
his temper, or aversion to his book, that makes him
saunter away his time of study.

§ 120. If some defect in his constitution has cast a
damp on his mind, and he be naturally listless and
dreaming, this unpromising disposition is none of tlie
easiest to be dealt with ; because, generally carrying
with it an unconcernedness for the future, it wants the
two great springs of action, foresight and desire ; which,
how to plant and increase, where nature has given a
cold and contrary temper, will be the question. As
soon as you are satisfied that this is the case, you must
carefully inquire whether there be nothing he delights
in ; inform yourself what it is he is most pleased with ;
and if vou can find anv particular tendency his mind
L

162 LOCKE.

hath, increase it all you can, and make use of that to
set him on work, and to excite his industry. If he
loves praise, or play, or line clothes, «Scc. or, on the
other side, dreads pain, disgrace, or your displeasure,
&c, whatever it be that he loves most, except it be
sloth, (for that will never set him on work,) let tliat be
made use of to quicken him, and make him bestir hirii-
self ; for in this listless temper you are not to fear an
excess of appetite, (as in all other cases,) by cherishing
it. It is that which you want, and therefore must
labour to raise and increase ; for, where there is no
desire, there will be no industry.

§ 121. If you have not hold enough upon him this
way, to stir up vigour and activity in him, you must
employ him in some constant bodily labour, whereby
he may get an habit of doing something: the keeping
him hard to some study were the better way to get
him an habit of exercising and applying his mind.
But because this is an invisible attention, and nobody
can tell when he is, or is not idle at it, you must find
bodily employments for him, which he must be con-
stantly busied in, and kept to ; and, if they have some
little hardship and shame in them, it may not be the
worse, that they may the sooner weary him, and make
him desire to return to his book : but be sure, when
you exchange his book for his other labour, set him
such a task, to l)e done in such a time as may allow
him no opportunity to be idle. Only, after you have
by this way brought him to be attentive and industri-
ous at his book, you may, upon his despatching his
study within the time set him, give him, as a reward,
some respite from his other labour; which you may
diminish, as you find him gi'ow more and more steady
in his application ; and, at last, wholly take off, when
liis sauntering at his book is cured.

§ 122. We formerly observed, that variety and free-

COMPULSIO". 163

dom was that which delighted children, and recom-
mended their plays to them : and
that therefore their book, or any thing
we would have them leam, should not be enjoined
them as business. This their parents, tutors, and
teachers, are apt to forget ; and their impatience to
have them busied in what is fit for them to do, suffers
them not to deceive them into it : but by the repeated
injunctions they meet with, children quickly distin-
guish between what is required of them and what not.
When this mistake has once made his book uneasy to
him, the cure is to be applied at the other end. And
since it will be then too late to endeavour to make it
a play to him, you must take the contrary course ;
observe what play he is most delighted with ; enjoin
that, and make him play so many hours every day, not
as a punishment for playing, but as if it were the
business required of him. This, if I mistake not,
will, in a few days, make him so weary of his most
beloved sport, that he will prefer bis book, or any
thing, to it, especially if it may redeem him from any
part of the task of play is set him ; and he may be suf-
fered to employ some pail of the time destined to his
task of play in his book, or such other exercise as is
really useful to him. This I at least think a better
cure than that forbidding, (which usually increases the
desire,) or any other punishment should be made use
of to remedy it; for, when you have once glutted his
appetite, (which may safely be done in all things Init
eating and drinking,) and made liim surfeit of what
you would have him avoid, you have put into him a
principle of aversion, and you need not so much fear
afterwards his longing for the same thing again.

§ 123. This, I think, is sufficiently evident, that
children generally hate to be idle : all ttie care then is
that their bnsv humour should be constantly employed
l2

164 LOCKE.

ill something of use to them ; which if you will attain,
you must make what you would have them do, a rec-
reation to them, and not a business. The way to do
this, so that they may not perceive you have any hand
in it, is this proposed here, viz. to make them weary of
that which you would not have them do, by enjoin-
ing and making them, under some pretence or other;
do it till they are surfeited. For example ; Does your
son play at top and scourge too much ? Enjoin him to
play so many hours every day, and look that he do it ;
and you shall see he will quickly be sick of it, and
willing to leave it. By this means making the recre-
ations you dislike a business to him, he will of him-
self, with delight, betake himself to those things you
would have him do, especially if they be proposed as
rewards for having performed his task in that play
which is commanded him. For, if he be ordered every
day to whip his top, so long as to make him sufficient-
ly weaiy, do you not think he will apply himself with
eagerness to his book, and wish for it, if you promise
it him as a reward of having whipped his top lustily,
quite out all the time that is set him ? Children, in the
things they do, if they comport with their age, find
little difference, so they may be doing : the esteem they
have for one thing above another, they borrow from
others; so that what those about them make to be a
reward to them, will really be so. By this art, it is in
their governors choice, whether scotch-hoppers shall
]"eward their dancing, or dancing their scotch-hoppers ;
whether peg-top, or reading, ])laying at trap, or study-
ing the globes, shall be more acceptable and pleasing
to them ; all that they desire being to be busy, and
busy, as they imagine, in things of their own choice,
and which they receive as favours from their parents,
or others for whom they have a respect, and with
whom they would be in credit. A set of children thus

PLAY-GAMES. 165

ordered, and kept from the ill example of others,
would, all of them, I suppose, with as much earnestness
and delight learn to read, write, and what else one
would have them, as others do their ordinary plays :
and the eldest being thus entered, and this made the
fashion of the place, it would be as impossible to hin-
der them from learning the one, as it is ordinarily to
keep them from the other.

§ 124. Play-things, I think, children should have,
and of divers sorts : but still to be in

. .J /•*!,•.. PLAY-GAMES.

the custody of then* tutors, or some-
body else, whereof a child should have in his power
but one at once, and should not be suffered to have an-
other, but when he restored that : this teaches them,
betimes, to be careful of not losing or spoiling the things
they have ; whereas plenty and variety, in their own
keeping, makes them wanton and careless, and teaches
them from the beginning to be squanderers and wasters.
These, I confess, are little things, and such as will seem
beneath the care of a governor ; but nothing that may
form children's minds is to be overlooked and neglect-
ed ; and whatsoever introduces habits, and settles cus-
toms in them, deserves the care and attention of their
governors, and is not a small thing in its consequences.
One thing more about children's plaj'^-things may be
worth their parents' care : though it be agi-eed they
should have of several sorts, yet, I think, they should
have none bought for them. This will hinder that
great variety they are often overcharged with, which
serves only to teach the mind to wander after change
and superfluity, to be unquiet, and perpetually stretch-
ing itself after something more still, though it knows
not what, and never to be satisfied with what it hath.
The court that is made to people of condition in such
kind of presents to their children, does the little ones
great harm ; by it they are taught pride, vanity, and

166 LOCKE.

covetousness, almost before they can speak ; and I have
known a young child so distracted with the number
and variety of his play-games, that he tired his maid
every day to look them over ; and was so accustomed
to abundance, that he never thought he had enough,
but was always asking. What more ? What more ?
What new thing shall I have? A good introduction
to moderate desires, and the ready way to make a con-
tended happy man !

How then shall they hav^e the play-games you allow
them, if none must be bought for them? I answer,
they should make them themselves, or at least endeav-
our it, and set themselves about it ; till then they should
have none, and till then, they will want none of any
great artifice. A smooth pebble, a piece of paper, the
mother's bunch of keys, or any thing they cannot hurt
themselves with, serves as much to divert little chil-
dren, as those more chargeable and curious toys from
the shops, which are presently put out of order and
broken. Children are never dull or out of humour for
want of such play-things, unless they have been used to
them : when they are little, whatever occurs serves the
turn ; and as they grow bigger, if they are not stored
by the expensive folly of others, they will make them
themselves. Indeed, when they once begin to set
themselves to work about any of their inventions, they
should be taught and assisted ; but should have noth-
ing whilst they lazily sit still, expecting to be furnished
from other hands without employing their own : and
if you help them where they are at a stand, it will more
endear you to them, than any chargeable toys you shall
buy for them. Play-things which are above their skill
to make, as tops, gigs, battledores, and the like, which
are to be used with labour, should, indeed, be procur-
ed them : these, it is convenient, they should have, not
for variety, but exercise ; but these, too, should be giv-

LYING. 167

en them as bare as might be. If they had a top, the
scourge-stick and leather-strap should be left to their
own making and fitting. If they sit gaping to have
such things drop into their mouths, they should go
without them. This will accustom them to seek for
what they want in themselves, and in their own en-
deavours ; whereby they will be taught moderation in
their desires, application, industry', thought, contrivance,
and good husbandry ; qualities that will be useful to
them when they are men, and therefore cannot be
learned too soon, nor fixed too deep. All the plays
and diversions of children should be directed towards
good and useful habits, or else they will introduce ill
ones. Whatever they do, leaves some impression on
that tender age, and from thence they receive a ten-
dency to good or evil : and whatever hath such an in-
fluence, ought not to be neglected.

§ 125. Lying is so ready and cheap a cover for any
miscarriage, and so much in fashion

11 /• 1 1 LYING.

amongst all sorts of people, that a
child can hardly avoid observing the use is made of it
on all occasions, and so can scarce be kept, without
great care, from getting into it. But it is so ill a qual-
ity, and the mother of so many ill ones, that spawn
from it, and take shelter under it, that a child should
be brought up in the greatest abhorrence of it imagin-
able : it should be always, (when occasionally it comes
to be mentioned,) spoken of before him with the ut-
most detestation, as a quality so wiiolly inconsistent
with the name and character of a gentleman that no-
body of any credit can bear the imputation of a lie ; a
mark that is judged the utmost disgrace, which debases
a man to the lowest degree of a shameful meanness,
and ranks him with the most contemptible part of man-
kind, and the abhorred rascality ; and is not to be en-
dured in any one, who would converse with people of

168 LOCKE.

condition, or have any esteem or reputation in the
world. The first time he is found in a lie, it should
rather be wondered at, as a monstrous thing in him,
than reproved as an ordinary fault. If that keeps him
not from relapsing, the next time he must be sharply
rebuked, and fall into the state of great displeasure of
his father and mother, and all about him who take na-
tice of it. xVnd if this way work not the cure, you
must come to blows ; for, after he has been thus warn-
ed, a premeditated lie must always bo looked upon as
obstinacy, and never be permitted to escape unpunished.
§ 126. Children afraid to have their faults seen in
their naked colours, will, like the rest
of the sons of Adam, be apt to make
excuses. This is a fault usually bordering upon, and
leading to untruth, and is not to be indulged in them:
but yet it ought to be cured rather with shame than
roughness. If, therefore, when a child is questioned
for any thing, his first answer be an excuse, warn him
soberly to tell the truth ; and then, if he persists to
shuffle it off with a falsehood, he must be chastised;
but, if he directly confess, you must commend his in-
genuity, and pardon the fault, be it what it will ; and
pardon it so, that you never so much as reproach him
with it, or mention it to him again : for, if you would
have him in love with ingenuity, and by a constant
practice make it habitual to him you must take care
that it never procure him the least inconvenience ; but,
on the contrary, his own confession, bringing always
with it perfect impunity, should be, besides, encouraged
by some marks of approbation. If his excuse be such
at any time, that you cannot prove it to have any false-
hood in it, let it pass for true, and be sure not to show
any suspicion of it. Let him keep up his reputation
with you as high as is possible ; for when once he finds
he has lost that, you have lost a great and your best

EXCUSES. 169

hold upon him. Therefore let him not think he lias
the character of a liar with you, as long as you can avoid
it without flattering him in it. Thus some slips in
truth may be overlooked. But, after he has once been
corrected for a lie, you must be sure never after to
pardon it in him, whenever you find, and take notice
to him, that he is guilty of it : for it being a fault which
he has been forbid, and may, unless he be wilful, avoid,
the repeating of it is perfect pervei-seness, and must
have the chastisement due to that offence.

§ 1*27. This is what I have thought concerning the
general method of educating a young gentleman ; which,
though I am apt to suppose may have some influence
on the whole course of his education, yet I am far from
imagining it contains all those particulars which his
growing years, or peculiar temper, may require. But
this being premised in general, we shall, in the next
place, descend to a more particular consideration of the
several parts of his education.

§ 128. That which every gentleman, (that takes any
care of his education,) desires for his son, besides the
estate he leaves him, is contained, (I suppose,) in these
four things, virtue, wisdom, breeding, and learning. I
will not trouble myself whether these names do not
some of them sometimes stand for the same thing, or
really include one another. It serves my turn here
to follow the popular use of these words, which, I pre-
sume is clear enough to make me be understood, and
I hope there will be no difhculty to comprehend my
meaning.

§ 129. I place virtue as the first and most necessary
of those endowments that belong to a man or a gentle-
man, as absolutely requisite to make him valued and
beloved by others, acceptable or tolerable to himself.
Without that, I think, he will be happy neither in this,
nor the other world.

170 LOCKE.

§ 130. As the foundation of this, there ought very
early to be imprinted on his mind a
true notion oi God, as of the mde-
pendent Supreme Being, Author and Maker of all things,
from whom we receive all our good, who loves us,
and gives us all things : and, consequent to this, instil
into him a love and reverence of this Supreme Being.
This is enough to begin with, without going to explain
this matter any farther, for fear, lest by talking too ear-
ly to him of spirits, and being unseasonably forward to
make him understand the incomprehensible nature of
that infinite Being, his head be either filled with false,
or perplexed with unintelligible notions of him. Let
him only be told upon occasion, that God made and
governs all things, hears and sees every thing, and does
all manner of good to those that love and obey him.
You will find, that being told of such a God, other
thoughts will be apt to rise up fast enough in his mind
about him ; which, as you observe them to have any
mistakes, you must set right. And I think it would be
better, if men generally rested in such an idea of God,
without being too curious in their notions about a Be-
ing, which all must acknowledge incomprehensible ;
whereby many who have not strength and clearness
of thought to distinguish between what they can, and
what they cannot know, run themselves into supersti-
tion or atheism, making God like themselves, or, (be-
cause they cannot comprehend any thing else,) none at
all. And I am apt to think the keeping children con-
stantly morning and evening to acts of devotion to God,
as to their Maker, Preserver, and Benefactor, in some
plain and short form of prayer, suitable to their age
and capacity, will be of much more use to them in re-
ligion, knowledge, and virtue, than to distract their
thoughts with curious inquiries into his inscrutable
essence and being.

GOBLINS. 171

§ 131. Having by gentle degrees, as you find him
capable of it, settled such an idea of

/-. 1 • 1 • • 1 1 1.1- . SPIRITS.

God in his mind, and taught him to
pray to him, and praise him as the Author of his be-
ing, and of all the good he does or can enjoy, forbear
any discourse of other spirits, till the mention of them
coming in his way, upon occasion hereafter to be set
down, and his reading the Scripture-histoiy, put him
upon that inquir}'.

§ 132. But even then, and always whilst he is
young, be sure to preserve his ten-
der mind from all impressions and
notions of spirits and goblins, or any fearful apprehen-
sions in the dark. This he will be in danger of from
the indiscretion of servants, whose usual method is to
awe children, and keep them in subjection, by telling
them of raw-head and bloody-bones, and such other
names, as carry with them the ideas of something ter-
rible and hurtful, which they have reason to be afraid
of, when alone, especially in the dark. This must be
carefully prevented ; for though by this foolish way
they may keep them from little faults, yet the remedy
is much worse than the disease : and there are stamped
upon their imaginations ideas that follow them with
terror and affrightraent. Such bugbear thoughts, once
got into the tender minds of children, and being set on
with a strong impression from the dread that accom-
panies such apprehensions, sink deep, and fasten them-
selves so, as not easily, if ever, to be got out again ;
and, whilst they are there, frequently haunt them with
strange visions, making children dastards when alone,
and afraid of their shadows and darkness all their lives
after. I have had those complain to me, when men,
who had been thus used when young; that, though
their reason corrected the wrong ideas they had taken
in, and they were satisfied, that there was no cause to

172 LOCKE.

fear invisible beings more in the dark than in the
light ; yet that these notions were apt still, upon any
occasion, to start up first in their prepossessed fancies,
and not to be removed without some pains. And, to
let you see how lasting frightful images are, tliat take
place in the mind early, I shall here tell you a pretty
remarkable, but true story : there was in a town in the
west a man of a disturbed brain, whom the boys used
to tease, when he came in their way : this fellow one
day, seeing in the street one of those lads that used to
vex him, stepped into a cutler's shop he v/as near, and
there seizing on a naked sword, made after the boy,
who, seeing him coming so armed, betook himself to
his feet, and ran for his life, and by good luck had
strength and heels enough to reach his father's house,
before the madman could get up to him : the door
was only latched ; and, when he had the latch in his
hand, he turned about his head to see how near his
pursuer was, who was at the entrance of the porch,
with his sword up ready to strike ; and he had just
time to get in and clap to the door, to avoid the blow,
which though his body escaped, his mind did not.
This frightening idea made so deep an impression
there, that it lasted many years, if not all his life after ;
for telling this story when he was a man, he said, that
after that time till then, he never went in at that door,
(that he could remember,) at any time, without look-
ing back, whatever business he had in his head, or
how little soever, before he came thither, he thought
of this madman.

If children were let alone, they would be no more
afraid in the dark than in broad sunshine ; they would
in their turns as much welcome the one for sleep, as
the other to play in : there should be no distinction
made to them, by any discourse, of more danger, or
terrible things in the one than the other. But, if the

GOOD-^^ATURE. - 173

folly of any one about them should do them this harm,
and make them think there is any difference between
being in the dark and winking, you must get it out of
their minds as soon as you can ; and let them know,
that God, who made all things good for them, made
the night, that they might sleep the better and the
quieter; and that they being under his protection,
there is nothing in the dark to hurt them. What is to
be known more of God and good spirits, is to be de-
ferred till the time we shall hereafter mention ; and of
evil spirits, it will be well if you can keep him from
wrong fancies about them, till he is ripe for that sort
of knowledge.

§ 133. Having laid the foundations of virtue in a true
notion of a God, such as the creed

. 1 1 x« 1 • • TRUTH.

wisely teaches, as lar as his age is
capable, and by accustoming him to pray to him ; the
next thing to be taken care of, is to keep him exactly
to speaking of truth, and by all the ways imaginable
inclining him to be good-natured.

T 11 .1 . T . r 1. GOOD-NATURE.

Let him know, that twenty faults
are sooner to be forgiven than the straining of truth,
to cover any one by an excuse : and to teach him be-
times to love and be good-natured to others, is to lay
early the true foundation of an honest man ; all injus-
tice generally springing from too great love of our-
selves, and too little of others.

This is all I shall say of this matter in general, and
is enough for laying the first foundations of virtue in
a child. As he grows up, the tendency of his natural
inclination must be observed ; which, as it inclines
him, more than is convenient, on one or the other
side, from the right path of virtue, ought to have proper
remedies apphed; for few of Adam's children are so
happy as not to be bom with some bias in their natural
temper, which it is the business of education either to

174 LOCKE.

take off, or counterbalance : l)ut to enter into particu-
lars of this, would be beyond the design of this short
treatise of education. I intend not a discourse of all
the virtues and vices, and how each virtue is to be
attained, and every particular vice by its peculiar rem-
edies cured : though I have mentioned some of the
most ordinary faults, and the ways to be used in cor-
recting them.

^ 134. Wisdom I take, in the popular acceptation,
for a man's manaofincr his business

WISDOM. ,1 J -.1 .^ • 1 . • , •

ably, and with loresight, m this
world. This is the product of a good natural temper,
application of mind and experience together, and so
above the reach of children. The greatest thing that
in them can be done towards it, is to binder them, as
much as may be, from being cunning; which being
the ape of wisdom, is the most distant from it that can
be: and, as an ape, for the likeness it has to a man,
wanting what really should make him so, is by so much
the ugher ; cunning is only the want of understanding ;
which, because it cannot compass its ends by direct
ways, would do it by a trick and circumvention ; and
the mischief of it is, a cunning trick helps but once,
but hinders ever after. No cover was ever made
either so big, or so fine, as to hide itself. Nobody was
ever so cunning, as to conceal their being so : and,
when they are once discovered, every body is shy,
every body distrustful of crafty men ; and all the
world forwardly join to oppose and defeat them :
whilst the open, fair, wise man has every body to make
way for him, and goes directly to his business. To
accustom a child to have true notions of things, and
not to be satisfied till he has them ; to raise his mind
to great and worthy thoughts ; and to keep him at a
distance from falsehood, and cunning, which has
always a broad mixture of falsehood in it : is the fittest

BREEDING. 175

preparation of a child for^visdoni. The rest, which is to
be learned from time, experience, and observation, and
an acquaintance ^vith men, their tempers and designs,
is not to be expected in the ignorance and inadveit-
ency of childhood, or the inconsiderate heat and un-
wariness of youth : all that can be done towards it,
during this unripe age, is, as I have said, to accustom
them to truth and sincerity; to a submission to reason;
and, as much as may be, to reflection on their own
actions.

§ 135. The next good quality belonging to a
centleman, is good-breeding. There

^ n .,, , ?. , BREEDING.

are two sorts of ill-breeamg; the
one; a sheepish bashfulness ; and the other, a misbe-
coming negligence and disrespect in our carriage;
both which are avoided, by duly observing this one
rule. Not to think meanly of ourselves, and not to think
meanly of others.

§ 136. The first part of this rule must not be un-
derstood in opposition to humility, but to assurance.
We ought not to think so well of ourselves, as to stand
upon our own value ; and assume to ourselves a pre-
ference before others, because of any advantage we
may imagine we have over them ; but modestly to
take what is offered, when it is our due. But yet we
ought to think so well of ourselves, as to perform those
actions which are incumbent on, and expected of us,
without discomposure or disorder, in whose presence
soever we are, keeping that respect and distance which
is due to every one's rank and quality. There is often
in people, especially children, a clownish sliamefaced-
ness before strangers, or those above them ; they are
confounded in their thoughts, words, and looks, and
so lose themselves in that confusion, as not to be able
to do any thing, or at least not to do it with that free-
dom and gracefulness which pleases, and makes them

176

acceptable. The only cure for this, as for any other
miscarriage, is by use to introduce the contrary habit.
But since we cannot accustom ourselves to converse
with strangers, and persons of quality, without being
in their company, nothing can cure this part of ill-
breeding but change and variety of company, and that
of persons above us.

§ 137. As the before mentioned consists in too great
a concern how to behave ourselves towards others, so
the other part of ill-breeding lies in the appearance of
too little care of pleasing or showing respect to those
we have to do with. To avoid this these two things
are requisite: first, a disposition of the mind not tJ>
offend others ; and secondly, the most acceptable and
agreeable way of expressing that disposition. From
the one, men are called civil ; from the other, well-
fashioned. The latter of these is that decency and
gi'acefulness of looks, voice, words, motions, gestures,
and of all the whole outward demeanour, which takes
in company, and makes those with whom we may
converse easy and well pleased. This is, as it were,
the language whereby that internal civility of the mind
is expressed; which, as other languages are, being
very much governed by the fashion and custom of
every country, must, in the rules and practice of it, be
learned chiefly from observation, and the carriage of
those who are allowed to he exactly well-bred. The
other part, which lies deeper than the outside, is that
general good-will and regard for all people, which
makes any one have a care not to show, in his car-
riage, any contempt, disrespect, or neglect of them ;
but to express, according to the fashion and way of
that country, a respect and value for them, according
to their rank and condition. It is a disposition of the
mind that shows itself in the carnage, whereby a man
avoids makin«r anv one uneasv in conversation.

CE>'30RI0US>-ZSS. 177

I shall take notice of four qualities, that are most
directly opposite to this first and most taking of all the
social virtues. And from some one of these four it is,
that incivility commonly has its rise. I shall set them
do^^^l, that children may be preserved or recovered
from their ill influence.

1. The first is a natural roughness, -which makes a
man uncomplaisant to others, so that

, , I ^ X- 1 • • V ROCGH-XESS.

he has no deierence tor their mcli-
nations, tempers, or conditions. It is the sure badge
of a clown, not to mind what pleases or displeases
those he is with ; and yet one may often find a man, in
fashionable clothes, give an unbounded swing to his
own humour, and suffer it to justle or over-run any
one that stands in its way, with a perfect indiflTerency
how they take it. This is a brutality that every one
sees and abhors, and nobody can be easy with : and
therefore this finds no place in any one, who would
be thought to have the least tincture of good-breeding.
For the very end and business of good-breeding is to
supple the natural stiffness, and so soften men's tem-
pers, that they may bend to a compliance, and accom-
modate themselves to those they have to do with.

2. Contempt, or want of due respect, discovered
either in looks, words, or gesture :

CONTEMPT.

this, from whomsoever it comes,
brings always uneasiness with it ; for nobody can con-
tentedly bear being slighted.

3. Censoriousness, and finding fault with otiiers,
has a direct opposition to civilitv.

^r ^ \ " CE>-S0RIOUS>'ESS.

Men, whatever they are, or are not
guilty of, would not have their faults displayed, and
set in open view and broad daylight, before their own,
or other people's eyes. Blemishes afiixed to any one,
always carry shame with them : and tlie discoveiy, or
even bare imputation of anv defect, is not borne with-
M

178 LOCKE.

out some uneasiness. Railleiy is the most refined way
of exposing the faults of others ; but,

'R\TTT"FRY x o * '

because it is usually done with wit
and good language, and gives entertainment to the
company, people are led into a mistake, and, where it
keeps within fair bounds, there is no incivility in it:
and so the pleasantry of this sort of conversation often
introduces it amongst people of the better rank ; and
such talkers are favourably heard, and generally ap-
plauded by the laughter of the by-standers on their
side : but they ought to consider, that the entertain-
ment of the rest of the company is at the cost of that
one, who is set out in their burlesque colours, who
therefore is not without uneasiness, unless the subject,
for which he is rallied, be really in itself matter of
commendation ; for then the pleasant images and rep-
resentations, which make the raillery, carrj-ing praise
as well as sport with them, the rallied person also finds
his account, and takes part in the diversion. But, be-
cause the nice management of so nice and ticklish a
business, wherein a little slip may spoil all, is not
every body's talent, I think those, who would secure
themselves from provoking others, especially all young
people, should carefully abstain from raillery ; which,
by a small mistake, or any wrong turn, may leave upon
the mind of those, who arc made uneasy by it, the
lasting memory of having been piquantly, though wit-
tily, taunted for something censurable in them.

Besides raillery, contradiction is a kind of censori-
ousness, wherein ill-breeding often

CONTRADICTION. , -1 i^ /-i i • i

shows Itself. Complaisance does not
require that we should always admit all the reasonings
or relations that the company is entertained with ; no,
nor silently let pass all that is vented in our hearing.
The opposing the opinions, and rectifying the mistakes
of others, is what truth and charity sometimes require

CAPTIOUS>ESS. 179

of US, and civility does not oppose, if it be donvO with
due caution and care of circumstances. But there are
some people, that one may observe possessed, as it
were, with the spirit of contradiction, that steadily, and
without regard to right or wrong, oppose some one, or
perhaps every one of the company, whatever they say.
This is so visible and outrageous a way of censuring,
that nobody can avoid thinking himself injured by it.
All opposition to what another man has said, is so apt
to be suspected of censoriousness, and is so seldom re-
ceived without some sort of humiliation, that it ought
to be made in the gentlest manner, and softest words
can be found ; and such as, with the whole deport-
ment, may express no forwardness to contradict. All
marks of respect and good-will ought to accompany it,
that, whilst we gain the argument, we may not lose
the esteem of those that hear us.

4. Captiousness is another fault opposite to civility,
not only because it often produces

. , . , , . CAPTIOUSNESS.

misbecoming and provoking expres-
sions and carriage, but because it is a tacit accusation
and reproach of some incivihty, taken notice of in those
whom we are angry with. Such a suspicion, or inti-
mation, cannot be borne by any one without uneasi-
ness. Besides, one angiy body discomposes the whole
company, and the harmony ceases upon any such
jarring.

The happiness, that all men so steadily pursue, con-
sisting in pleasure, it is easy to see why the civil are
more acceptable than the useful. The ability, sincer-
ity, and good intention, of a man of weight and worth,
or a real friend, seldom atone for the uneasiness, that
is produced by his grave and solid representations.
Power and riches, nay virtue itself, are valued only as
conducing to our happiness; and therefore he recom-
mends himself ill to another as aiming at his happi-
m2

ISO LOCKE.

iiess, who, in the services he does him, makes him
uneasy in the manner of doing them. He that knows
how to make those he converses with easy, without
debasing himself to low and servile flattery, has found
the true art of living in the world, and being both wel-
come and valued every where. Civility therefore is
what, in the first place, should with great care be made
habitual to children and young people.

§ 138. There is another fault in good manners, and
that is, excess of ceremonv, and an

BREEDING. i .• . • .• ^ r

obstinate persistmg to force upon
another what is not his due, and what he cannot take
without folly or shame. This seems rather a design
to expose, than oblige ; or, at least, looks like a con-
test for mastery ; and, at best, is but troublesome, and
so can be no part of good-breeding, which has no other
use or end, but to make people easy and satisfied in
their conversation with us. This is a fault few young
people are apt to fall into ; but yet, if they are ever
guilty of it, or are suspected to incline that way, they
should be told of it, and warned of this mistaken civil-
ity. The thing they should endeavour and aim at in
conversation, should be to show respect, esteem, and
good- will, by paying to every one that common ceremo-
ny and regard, which is in civility due to them. To do
this, without a suspicion of flattery, dissimulation, or
meanness, is a great skill, which good sense, reason,
and good company, can only teach ; but is of so much
use in civil life, that it is well worth the studying.

§ 139. Though the managing ourselves well in this
part of our behaviour has the name of good-breeding,
as if pecuharly the efiect of education ; yet, as I have
said, young children should not be much perplexed
about it ; I mean, about putting off their hats, and
making legs modishly. Teach tbem humility, and to
be good-natured, if you can, and this sort of manners

BREEDING. 181

will not be wanting : civility being, in truth, nothing
but a care not to show any slighting, or contempt, of
any one in conversation. What are the most allowed
and esteemed ways of expressing this, we have above
observed. It is as peculiar and different, in several
countries of the world, as their languages; and there-
fore, if it be rightly considered, rules and discourses,
made to children about it, are as useless and imperti-
nent, as it would be, now and then, to give a rule or
two of the Spanish tongue, to one that converses only
with Englishmen. Be as busy as you please with dis-
courses of civility to your son ; such as is his conipa-
ijy, such will be his manners. A ploughman of your
neighbourhood, that has never been out of his parish,
read what lectures you please to him, will be as soon
in his language, as his carriage, a courtier ; that is, in
neither will be more polite, than those he uses to con-
verse vrith : and therefore of this no other care can be
taken, till he be of an age to have a tutor put to him,
who must not fail to be a well-bred man. And, in
good earnest, if I were to speak my mind freel}', so
children do nothing out of obstinacy, pride, and ill-
nature, it is no great matter how they put off their
hats, or make legs. If you can teach them to love and
respect other people, they will, as their age requires it,
find ways to express it acceptably to every one, accord-
mg to the fashions they have been used to : and, as to
their motions, and carriage of their bodies, a dancing-
master, as has been said, when it is fit, will teach them
what is most becoming. In the mean time, when they
are young, people expect not that children should be
over-mindful of these ceremonies ; carelessness is al-
lowed to that age, and becomes them as well as com-
phments do grown people : or, at least, if some very
nice people will think it a fault, I am sure it is a fault
that should be overlooked, and left to time, a tutor,

182 LOCKE.

and conversation, to cure : and therefore I think it not
worth your while to have your son, (as I often see
children are,) molested or chid about it; but where
there is pride, or ill-nature, appearing in his carriage,
there he must be pei'suaded, or shamed, out of it.

Though children when little, should not be much
perplexed with rules and ceremonious parts of breed-
ing ; yet there is a sort of unmannerliness very apt to
grow up with young people, if not early restrained ;
and that is a forwardness to interrupt others that are
speaking, and to stop them with some contradiction.
Whether the custom of disputing,

INTERRUPTION. , , ^ . /. * /l

and the reputation of parts and learn-
ing usually given to it, as if it were the only standard
and evidence of knowledge, make young men so for-
ward to watch occasions to correct others in their dis-
course, and not to slip any opportunity of showing their
talents ; so it is, that I have found scholars most
blamed in this point. There cannot be a greater rude-
ness than to interrupt another in the current of his dis-
course ; for, if there be not impertinent folly in an-
swering a man before we know what he will say, yet
it is a plain declaration, that we are weary to hear him
talk any longer, and have a disesteem of what he says ;
which we, judging not fit to entertain the company,
desire them to give audience to us, who have some-
thing to produce worth their attention. This shows a
very great disrespect, and cannot but be offensive ; and
yet, this is what almost all interruption constantly car-
ries with it. To which, if there be added, as is usual,
a correcting of any mistake, or a contradiction of what
has been said, it is a mark of yet greater pride and
self-conceitedness, when we thus intrude ourselves for
teachers, and take upon us, either to set another right
in his story, or show the mistakes of his judgment.
I do not say this, that I think there should be no

INTERRUPTIO>-. 183

difference of opinions in conversation, nor opposition
in men's discourses : this would be to take away ttie
greatest adviuitage of society, and tlie improvements
that are to be made by ingenious company ; where the
light is to be got from the opposite arguings of men of
parts, showing the different sides of things, and their
various aspects and probabiUties, would be quite lost,
if every one were obhged to assent to, and say after the
first speaker. It is not the owning one's dissent from
another that I speak against, but the manner of doing
it. Young men should be taught not to be forward to
mterpose their opinions, unless asked, or when others
have done, and are silent ; and then only by way of
inquiry, not mstruction. The positive asserting, and
the magisterial air, should be avoided ; and when a
general pause of the whole company affords an oppor-
tunity, they may modestly put in their question as
learners.

This becoming decency will not cloud their parts,
nor weaken the strength of their reason ; but bespeak
the more favourable attention, and give what they say
the greater advantage. x\n ill argument, or ordinary
observation, thus introduced, with some civil preface
of deference and respect to the opinions of others, will
procure them more credit and esteem, than the sharp-
est wit, or profoundest science, with a rough, insolent,
or noisy management ; which always shocks the hear-
ers, and leaves an ill opinion of the man, though he get
the better of it in the argument.

This, therefore, should be carefully watched in
young people, slopped in the beginning, and the con-
trary habit introduced in all their conversation : and
the rather, because forwardness to talk, frequent inter-
ruptions in arguing, and loud wrangling, are too of-
ten obsen^able amongst grown people, even of rank
amongst us. The Indians, whom we call barbarous,

184 LOCKE.

observe much more decency and civility in their dis-
courses and conversation, giving one another a fair si-
lent liearing, till they have quite done ; and then an-
swering them calmly, and without noise or passion.
And if it be not so in this civilized part of the world,
we must impute it to a neglect in education, which
has not yet reformed this ancient piece of barbarity
amongst us. Was it not, think you, an entertaining
spectacle, to see two ladies of quality accidentally seat-
ed on the opposite sides of a room, set round with
company, fall into a dispute, and grow so eager in it,
that in the heat of their controversy, edging by degrees
their chairs forwards, they were in a little time got up
close to one another in the middle of the room ; where
they for a good while managed the

DISPUTE. •/ c o

dispute as fiercely as two game-cocks
in the pit, without minding or taking any notice of the
circle, which could not all the while forbear smiling.^
This I was told by a person of quality, who was pres-
ent at the combat, and did not omit to reflect upon the
indecencies, that warmth in dispute often runs people
into ; which, since custom makes too frequent, educa-
tion should take the more care of There is nobodj'
but condemns this in others, though they overlook it in
themselves: and many who are sensible of it in them-
selves, and resolve against it, cannot get rid of an ill
custom, which neglect in their education has suffered
to settle into an habit.

§ 140. What has been above said conceniing com-
pany, would, perhaps, if it were well
reflected on, give us a larger pros-
pect, and let us see how much farther its influence
reaches. It is not the modes of civility alone, that are
imprinted by conversation ; the tincture of company
sinks deeper than the outside ; and possibly, if a true
estimate were made of the moralhy and religions of the

LEAR>-I-XG. 185

world, we should find, that the far greater part of man-
kind received even those opinions and ceremonies they
would die for, rather from the fashions of their coun-
tries, and the constant practice of those about them,
than from any conviction of their reasons. I mention
this only to let you see of what moment I think com-
pany is to your son in all the parts of his life, and
therefore how much that one part is to be weighed and
provided for, it being of greater force to work upon
him than all you can do besides.

§ 141. You will wonder, perhaps, that I put learning
last, especiallv if 1 tell you I think it
the least part. This may seem strange
in the mouth of a bookish man : and this making usu-
ally the chief, if not only bustle and stirabout children,
this being almost that alone which is thought on, when
people talk of education, makes it the greater paradox.
When I consider what ado is made about a little Latin
and Greek, how many years are spent in it, and what
a noise and business it makes to no purpose, I can
hardly forbear thinking, that the parents of children
still live in fear of the school-master's rod, which they
look on as the only instrument of education ; as if a
language or two were its whole business. How else is
it possible, that a child should be chained to the oar
seven, eight, or ten of the best years of his life, to get
a language or two, which I think might be had at a
great deal cheaper rate of pains and time, and be learned
almost in playing ?

Forgive me, therefore, if I say, I cannot with pa-
tience think, that a young gentleman should be put into
the herd, and be driven with a whip and scourge, as if
he were to run the gauntlet through the several classes,
« ad capiendum ingenii cultum." " What then, say
you; would you not have him write and read ? Shall
he be more ignorant than the clerk of our parish, who

186 LOCKE.

takes Hopkins and Stenihokl for the best poets in the
world, whom yet he makes worse than they are, by his
ill reading ?" Not so, not so fast, I beseech you. Read-
ing, and writing, and learning, I allow to be necessary,
but yet not the chief business. I imagine you would
think him a very foolish fellow, that should not value a
virtuous, or a w-ise man, infinitely before a great schol-
ar. Not but that I think learning a great help to both,
in well disposed minds ; but yet it must be confessed
also, that in others not so disposed, it helps them only
to be the more foolish, or worse men. I say this, that,
when you consider of the breeding of your son, and
are looking out for a school-master, or a tutor, you
would not have, (as is usual,) Latin and logic only in
your thoughts. Learning must be had, but in the sec-
ond place as subservient only to greater qualities. Seek
out somebody, that may know how discreetly to frame
his manners: place him in hands, where you may, as
much as possible, secure his innocence, cherish and
nurse up the good, and gently correct and weed out
any bad inclinations, and settle in him good habits.
This is the main point ; and this being provided for,
learning may be had into the bargain ; and that, as I
think, at a ver}- easy rate, by methods that may be
thought on.

v^. 142. When he can talk, it is time he should begin
to learn to read. But as to this, srive
me leave here to mculcate agam what
is very apt to be forgotten, viz. that a great care is to
be taken, that it be never made as a business to him,
nor he look on it as a task. We naturally, as I said,
even from our cradles, love liberty, and have therefore
an aversion to many things, for no other reason, but
because they are enjoined us. I have always had a
fancy, that learning might be made a play and recrea-
tion to children : and that thev mifflit be brought to

18:

desire to be taught, if it were proposed to tliem as a
thing of honour, credit, dehght, and recreation, or as a
reward for doing something else, and if they were nev-
er chid or corrected for the neglect of it. That which
confirms me in this opinion is, that amongst the Por-
tuguese, it is so much a fashion and emulation amongst
their children to learn to read and write, that they can-
not hinder them from it : they will learn it one from
another, and are as intent on it as if it were forbid them.
I remember, that being at a friend's house, whose
younger son, a child in coats, was not easily brought
to his book, (being taught to read at home by his moth-
er ;) I advised to try another way than requiring it of
him as his duty. We therefore, in a discourse on pur-
pose amongst ourselves, in his hearing, but without
taking any notice of him, declared, that it was the
privilege and advantage of heirs and elder brothere, to
be scholars ; that this made them fine gentlemen, and
beloved by every body : and that for younger brothers,
it was a favour to admit them to breeding ; to be taught
to read and write was more than came to their share ;
they might be ignorant bumpkins and clowns, if they
pleased. This so wrought upon the child, that after-
wards he desired to be taught ; would come himself
to his mother to learn ; and would not let his maid
be quiet, till she heard him his lesson. I doubt not
but some way like this might be taken with other
children ; and, when their tempers are found, some
thoughts be instilled into them, that might set them
upon desiring of learning themselves, and make them
seek it, as another sort of play or recreation. But then,
as I said before, it must never be imposed as a task,
nor made a trouble to- them. There may be dice and
play-things, with the letters on them, to teach children
the alphabet by playing ; and twenty other ways may
be found, suitable to their particular tempers, to make
this kind of learning a spoit to them.

188 LOCKE. ^

§ 143. Thus children may be cozened into a know-
ledge of the letters ; be taught to read, without per-
ceiving it to be any thing but a sport, and play them-
selves into that which others are whipped for. Chil-
dren should not have any thing like work, or serious,
laid on them ; neither their minds nor bodies will bear
it. It injures their healths; and their being forced and
tied down to their books, in an age at enmity with all
such restraint, has 1 doubt not, been the reason why a
great many have hated books and learning all their
lives after : it is like a surfeit, that leaves an aversion,
behind, not to be removed.

§ 144. I have therefore thought, that if play-things
were fitted to this purpose, as they are usually to none,
contrivances might be made to teach children to read,
whilst they thought they were only playing. For ex-
ample ; What if an ivoiy-ball were made like that of
the royal oak lottery, with thirty-two sides, or one rath-
er of twenty-four or twenty-five sides ; and upon sev-
eral of those sides pasted on an A, upon several others
B, on others C, and on others D ? I would have you
begin with but these four letters, or perhaps only two
at first ; and when he is perfect in them, then add an-
other ; and so on, till each side having one letter, there
be on it the whole alphabet. This I would have oth-
ers play with before him, it being as good a sort of
play to lay a stake who shall first throw an A or B, as
who upon dice shall throw six or seven. This being
a play amongst you, tempt him not to it, lest you make
it business ; for I would not have him understand it is
any thing but a play of older people, and I doubt not
but he will take to it of himself. And that he may have
the more reason to think it is a play, that he is some-
times in favour admitted to ; when the play is done, the
ball should be laid up safe out of his reach, that so it
may not, by his having it in his keeping at any time,
grow stale to him.

READING. 189

§ 145. To keep up his eagerness to it, let him think
it a game belonging to those above him : and when by
this means he knows the letters, by changing them into
syllables, he may learn to read, without knowing how
he did so, and never have any chiding or trouble about
it, nor fall out with books, because of the hard usage
and vexation they have caused him. Children, if you
observe them, take abundance of pains to learn several
games, which, if they should be enjoined them, they
would abhor as a task, and business. I know a person
of great quality, (more yet to be honoured for his learn-
ing and virtue, than for his rank and high place,) who,
by pasting on the six vowels, (for in our language Y is
one,) on the six sides of a die, and the remaining
eighteen consonants on the sides of three other dice,
has made this a play for his children, that he shall win,
who at one cast, throws most words on these four dice j
whereby his eldest son, yet in coats, has played him-
self into spelling, with great eagerness, and without
once having been chid for it, or forced to it.

§ 14G. I have seen little girls exercise whole hours
together, and take abundance of pains to be expert at
dibstones, as they call it. Whilst I have been looking
on I have thought it wanted only some good contri--
vance to make them employ all that industry about
something that might be more useful to them; and
methinks it is only the fault and negligence of elder
people, that it is not so. Children are much less apt
to be idle than men ; and men are to be blamed, if
some part of that busy humour be not turned to useful
things ; which might be made usually as delightful to
them as those they are employed in, if men would be
but half so forward to lead the way, as these litde apes
would be to follow. I imagine some wise Portuguese
heretofore began this fashion amongst the children of
his country, where I have been told as I said, it is im-

190 LOCKE.

possible to hinder the cliildren from learning to read
and write : and in some parts of France they teach one
another to sing and dance from the cradle.

§ 147. The letters pasted upon the sides of the dice,
or polygon, were best to be of the size of those of the
folio bible to begin with, and none of them capital let-
ters : when once he can read what is printed in such
letters he will not long be ignorant of the great ones :
and in the beginning he should not be perplexed with
variety. With this die also, you might have a play
just like the royal-oak, which would be another variety ;
and play for cherries, or apples, &c.

§ 148. Besides these, twenty other plays might be
invented, depending on letters, which those, who like
this way, may easily contrive, and get made to this
use, if they will. But the four dice above mentioned
I think so easy and useful, that it will be hard to find
any better, and there will be scarce need of any other.

§ 149. Thus much for learning to read, which let
him never be driven to, nor chid for; cheat him into
it if you can, but make it not a business for him. It
is better it be a year later before he can read, than that
he should this way get an aversion to learning. If you
have any contests with him, let it be in matters of
moment, of truth, and good-nature ; but lay no task
on him about A B C. Use your skill to make his will
supple and pliant to reason : teach him to love credit
and commendation ; to abhor being thought ill or
meanly of, especially by you and his mother ; and then
the rest will come all easily. But, I think, if you will
do that, you must not shackle and tie him up with rules
about indifierent matters, nor rebuke him for every
little fault, or perhaps some, that to others would seem
great ones. But of this I have said enough already.

"§ 150. When by these gentle ways he begins to be
able to read, some easy pleasant book, suited to his

READING. 191

capacity, should be put into his hands, wherein the
entertainment that he finds, might draw him on, and
reward his pains in reading ; and yet not such as should
fill his head with perfectly useless trumpeiy, or lay the
principles of vice and folly. To this purpose I think
iEsop's Fables the best, which being stories apt to de-
light and entertain a child, may yet afford useful reflec-
tions to a grown man ; and if his memory retain them
all his life after, he will not repent to find them there,
amongst his manly thoughts, and serious business. If
his ^Esop has pictures in it, it will entertain him much
the better, and encourage him to read, when it carries
the increase of knowledge with it: for such visible ob-
jects children hear talked of in vain, and without any
satisfaction, whilst they have no ideas of them ; those
ideas being not to be had from sounds, but from the
things themselves, or their pictures. And therefore, I
think, as soon as he begins to spell, as many pictures
of animals should be got him as can be found, with the
printed names to them, which at the same time will
invite him to read, and afford him matter of inquiry
and knowledge. Reynard the Fox is another book, I
think, may be made use of to the same purpose. And
if those about him will talk to him often about the
stories he has read, and hear him tell them, it will, be-
sides other advantages, add encouragement and delight
to his reading, when he finds there is some use and
pleasure in it. These baits seem wholly neglected in
the ordinary method ; and it is usually long before
learners find any use or pleasure in reading, wliich may
tempt them to it, and so take books only for fashion-
able amusements, or impci-tinent troubles, good for
nothing.

§ 151. The Lord's prayer, the creed, and ten com-
mandments, it is necessary he should learn perfectly by
heart ; but, I think, not by reading them himself in

192 LOCKE.

his primer, but by somebody's repeating them to him,
even before he can read. But learning by heart, and
learning to read, should not, I think, be mixed, and so
one made to clog the other. But his learning to read
should be made as little trouble or business to liim as
might be.

What other books there are in English of the kind
of those above mentioned, fit to engage the liking of
children, and tempt them to read, I do not know ; but
am apt to think, that children, being generally delivered
over to the method of schools, where the fear of the
rod is to inforce, aud not any pleasure of the employ-
ment to invite them to learn ; this sort of useful books,
amongst the number of silly ones that are of all sorts,
hare yet had the fate to be neglected : and nothing that
I know has been considered of this kind out of the or-
dinar}- road of the hom-book, primer, psalter, Testa-
ment, and Bible.

§ 152. As for the Bible, which children are usually
employed in, to exercise and improve their talent in
reading, I think the promiscuous reading of it, though
by chapters as they lie in order, is so far from being of
any advantage to children, either for the perfecting
their reading, or principling their religion, that per-
haps a worse could not be found. For what pleasure
or encouragement can it be to a child, to exercise him-
self in reading those parts of a book where he under-
stands nothing? And how little are the law of 3Ioses,
the Song of Solomon, the prophecies in the Old, and
the epistles and apocalypse in the New Testament,
suited to a child's capacity ? And though the history
of the evangelists, and the Acts, have something easi-
er ; yet, taken all together, it is very disproportional to
the understanding of childhood. I grant, that the
principles of religion are to be drawn from thence, and
in the words of the scripture; yet none should be

READI>'G. 193

proposed to a child, but such as are suited to a child's
capacity and notions. But it is far from this to read
through the whole Bible, and that for reading's sake.
And what an odd jumble of thoughts must a child have
in his head, if he have any at all, such as he should
have concerning religion, who in his tender age reads
all the parts of the Bible indifferently, as the word of
God, without any other distinction ! I am apt to think,
that this, in some men, has been the very reason why
they never had clear and distinct thoughts of it all
their life time.

§ 153. And now I am by chance fallen on this sub-
ject, give me leave to say, that there are some parts of
the scripture, which may be proper to be put into the
hands of a child to engage him to read ; such as are
the story of Joseph and his brethren, of David and
Goliath, of David and Jonathan, &c. and others, that
he should be made to read for his instruction ; as that,
« What you would have others do unto you, do you
the same unto them;" and such other easy and plain
moral rules, which, being fitly chosen, might often be
made use of, both for reading and instruction together ;
and so often read, till they are thoroughly fixed in his
memory ; and then afterwards, as he grows ripe for
them, may in their turns, on fit occasions, be inculcated
as the standing and sacred rules of his life and ac-
tions. But the reading of the whole scripture indif-
ferently, is what I think very inconvenient for chil-
dren, till, after having been made acquainted with the
})lainest fundamental parts of it, they have got some
kind of general view of what they ought principally to
believe and practise, which yet, I think, they ought to
receive in the very words of the scripture, and not in
such as men, prepossessed by systems and analogies,
are apt in this case to make use of, and force upon
them. Dr. AVorlhington, to avoid this, has made a

"n

194 LOCKE.

catecliism, which has all its answers in the precise
words of the scripture, a thing of good example, and
such a sound form of words, as no Christian can except
against, as not fit for his child to learn. Of this, as
soon as he can say the Lord's prayer, creed, and ten
commandments by heart, it may be fit for him to learn
a question every day, or every week, as his under-
standing is able to receive, and his memory to retain
them. And. when he has this catechism perfectly by
heart, so as readily and roundly to answer to any ques-
tion in the whole book, it may be convenient to lodge
in his mind the remaining moral rules, scattered up
and down in the Bible, as the best exercise of his mem-
oiy, and that which may be always a rule to him,
ready at hand in the whole conduct of his life.

§154. When he can read English well, it will be

seasonable to enter him in writing.

And here the first thing should be
taught him, is to hold his pen right ; and this he should
be perfect in, before he should be suflTered to put it to
paper; for not only children, but any body else, that
would do any thing well, should never be put upon too
much of it at once, or be set to perfect themselves in
two parts of an action at the same time, if they can
possibly be separated. I think the Italian way of
holding the pen between tlie thumb and the fore-finger
alone may be best ; but in this you should consult
some good writing-master, or any other person, who
writes well, and quick. When he has learned to hold
his pen right, in the next place he should learn how to
lay his paper, and place his arm and body to it. These
practices being got over, the way to teach him to write
without much trouble, is to get a plate graved with the
characters of such a hand as you like l)est: but you
must remember to have them a pretty deal bigger than
he should ordinarily write ; for every one naturally

DRAWING. 195

comes by degrees to write a less hand than he at
fii-st was taught, but never a bigger. Such a plate
being graved, let several sheets of good writing-paper
be printed ofFwitli red ink, which he has nothing to
do but to go over with a good pen filled with black ink,
which will quickly bring his hand to the formation of
those charactei-s, being at first showed where to begin,
and how to form every letter. And when he can do
that well, he must then exercise on fair paper ; and so
may easily be brought to write the hand you desire.

§ 155. When he can write well, and quick, I think
it may be convenient, not only to

DR-VWIXG.

continue the exercise of his hand in
writing, but also to improve the use of it farther in
drawing, a thing very useful to a gentleman on seve-
ral occasions, but especially if he travel, as that which
helps a man often to express, in a few lines well put
together, what a whole sheet of paper in writing
would not be able to represent and make intelligible.
How many buildings may a man see, how many ma-
chines and habits meet with, the ideas whereof would
be easily retained and communicated by a little skill
in drawing ; which, being committed to words, are in
danger to be lost, or at best but ill retained in the most
exact descriptions ? I do not mean that I would have
your son a perfect painter ; to be that to any tolerable
degree, will require more time than a young gentleman
can spare from his other improvements of greater mo-
ment ; but so much insight into perspective, and skill
in drawing, as will enable him to represent tolerably
on paper any thing he sees, except faces, may, I think,
be got in a little time, especially if he have a genius
to it : but where that is wanting, unless it be in the
things absolutely neccssaiy, it is better to let him pass
them by quietly, than to vex him about them to no
purpose: and therefore in this, as in all other things
^2

196 LOCKE.

not absolutely necessary, the rule holds, "Nihil invito.
Minerva."

^ 1. Short-hand, an art, as I have been told, known
onlv in England, may perhaps be

SHORT-HA>'D. *i " i . fi *i 1 • 1 *U ^

thought worth the learning, both tor
despatch in what men write for their own memory,
and concealment of what they would not have lie open
to every eye. For he that has once learned any sort
of character, may easily vary it to his own private use
or fancy, and with more contraction suit it to the busi-
ness he would employ it in. Mr. Rich's, the best con-
trived of any I have seen, may, as I think, by one who
knows and considers grammar well, be made much
easier and shorter. But, for the learning this compen-
dious way of writing, there will be no need hastily
to look out a master; it w^ill be early enough, when
any convenient opportunity offers itself, at any time
after his hand is well settled in fair and quick writing.
For boys have but little use of short-hand, and should
by no means practise it, till they write perfectly w^ell,
and have thoroughly fixed the habit of doing so.

§ 156. As soon as he can speak English, it is time
for him to learn some other language:

r "o y 'v' p XT *-^ *-'

this nobody doubts of, when French
is proposed. And the reason is, because people are
accustomed to the right w^ay of teaching that language,
which is by talking it into children in constant conver-
sation, and not by grammatical rules. The Latin
tongue would easily be taught the same waj-, if his
tutor, being constantly with him, would talk nothing
else to him, and make him answer still in the same lan-
guage. But because French is a living language, and
to be used more in speaking, that should be first learned,
that the yet pliant organs of speech might be accus-
tomed to a due formation of those sounds, and he get
the habit of pronouncing French well, which is the
harder to be done the longer it is delaved.

LATI-V. 197

§ 157. When he can speak and read French well,
which in this method is usually in
a year or two, he should proceed to
Latin, which it is a w^onder parents, w^hen they have
had the experiment in French, should not think ought
to be learned the same w^ay, by talking and reading.
Only care is to be taken, whilst he is learning these
foreign languages, by speaking and reading nothing
else with his tutor, that he do not forget to read Eng-
lish, which may be preserved by his mother, or some-
body else, hearing him read some chosen parts of the
scripture or other English book, every day.

§ 158. Latin I look upon as absolutely necessary to
a gentleman ; and indeed custom, which prevails over
every thing, has made it so much a part of education,
that even those children are whipped to it, and made
spend many hours of their precious time uneasily in
Latin, who, after they are once gone from school, are
never to have more to do with it, as long as they live.
Can there be any thing more ridiculous, than that a
father should waste his own money, and his son's
time, in setting him to learn the Roman language,
when, at the same time, he designs him for a trade,
wherein he, having no use of Latin, fails not to forget
that little which he brought from school, and which it
is ten to one he abhors for the ill usage it procured
him ? Could it be believed, unless we had every where
amongst us examples of it, that a child should be forced
to learn the rudiments of a language, which he is never
to use in the course of life that he is designed to,
and neglect all the while the writing a good hand, and
casting accounts, which are of great advantage in all
conditions of life, and to most trades indispensably
necessary ? But though these qualifications, requisite
to trade and commerce, and the business of the world,
are seldom or never to be had at grammar-schools :

198 LOCKE.

yet thither not only gentlemen send their younger sons
intended for trades, but even tradesmen and farmers
fail not to send their children, though they have neither
intention nor ability to make them scholars. If you
ask them, why they do this ? they think it as strange
a question, as if you should ask them why they go to
church ? Custom serves for reason, and has, to those
that take it for reason, so consecrated this method, that
it is almost religiously observed by them ; and they
stick to it, as if their children had scarce an orthodox
education, unless they learned Lilly's grammar.

§ 159. But how necessary soever Latin be to some,
and is thought to be to others, to whom it is of no
manner of use or service, yet the ordinary way of
learning it in a grammar-school, is. that, which having
had thoughts about, I cannot be forward to encourage.
The reasons against it are so evident and cogent, that
they have prevailed with some intelligent persons to
quit the ordinary road, not without success, though
the method made use of was not exactly that which I
imagine the easiest, and in short is this : to trouble the
child with no grammar at all, but to have Latin, as
English has been, without the perplexity of rules,
talked into him ; for, if you will consider it, Latin is no
more unknown to a child, when he comes into the
world, than English : and yet he learns English with-
out master, rule, or grammar : and so might he Latin
too, as Tully did, if he had somebody always to talk to
him in this language. And when we so often see a
French-woman teach an English girl to speak and read
French perfectly in a year or two, without any rule
of grammar, or any thing else but prattling to her ; I
cannot but wonder, how gentlemen have been over-
seen tliis way for their sons, and thought them more
dull or incapable than their daughters.

§ 160. If, therefore, a man could be got, who, him-

LATIN. 199

self speaking good Lathi, would always be about your
son, talk constantly to him, and suffer him to speak or
read nothing else, this will be the true and genuine
way, and that which I would propose, not only as the
easiest and best, wherein a child might, without pains
or chiding, get a language, which others are wont to
be whipped for at school, six or seven years together ;
but also as that, wherein at the same time he might
have his mind and manners formed, and he be in-
structed to boot in several sciences, such as are a good
part of geography, astronomy, chronology, anatomy,
besides some parts of history, and all other parts of
knowledge of things, that fall under the senses, and
require little more than memory. For there, if we
would take the true way, our knowledge should begin,
and in those things be laid the foundation ; and not in
the abstract notions of logic and metaphysics, which
are fitter to amuse, than inform the understanding, in
its first setting out towards knowledge. When young
men have had their heads employed a while in those
abstract speculations, without finding the success and
improvement, or that use of them which they expect-
ed, they are apt to have mean thoughts either of learn-
ing or themselves; they are tempted to quit their stud-
ies, and throw away their books, as containing nothing
but hard words, and empty sounds ; or else to con-
clude, that if there be any real knowledge in them,
they themselves have not understandings capable of it.
That this is so, perhaps I could assure you upon my
own experience. Amongst other things to be learned
by a young gentleman in this method, whilst othei-s of
his age are wholly taken up with Latin and languages,
I may also set down geometrj' for one, having known
a young gentleman, bred something after this way,
able to demonstrate several propositions in Euclid, be-
fore he was thirteen.

•200

§ 161. But if such a man cannot be got, who speaks
good Latin, and, being able to instruct your son in all
these parts of knowledge, will undertake it by this
method ; the next best is to have him taught as near
this way as may be, which is by taking some easy and
pleasant book, such as ^Esop's Fables, and writing the
English translation, (made as literal as it can be,) in
one line, and the Latin words, which answer each of
them, just over it in another. These let him read
ever}" day over and over again, till he perfectly under-
stands the Latin ; and then go on to another fable, till
he be also perfect in that, not omitting what he is
already perfect in, but sometimes reviewing that, to
keep it in his memory. And when he comes to write,
let these be set him for copies ; which, with the exer-
cise of his hand, will also advance him in Latin. This
being a more imperfect way than by talking Latin unto
him, the formation of the verbs first, and afterwards
the declensions of the nouns and pronouns perfectly
learnt by heart, may facilitate his acquaintance with
the genius and manner of the Latin tongue, which va-
ries the signification of verbs and nouns, not as the
modern languages do, by particles prefixed, but by
changing the last syllables. More than this of gram-
mar I think he need not have, till he can read himself
" Sauctii 3Iinerva," with Scioppius and Perizonius's
notes.

In teaching of children this too, I think, it is to be
observed, that in most cases, where they stick, they
are not to be farther puzzled, by putting them upon
finding it out themselves ; as by asking such questions
as these, viz. Which is the nominative case in the sen-
tence they are to construe ? or demanding what " au-
fero" signifies, to lead them to the knowledge what
"abstulere" signifies, &c. when they cannot readily
tell. This wastes time only in disturbing them : for

LATI>. 201

whilst they are learning, and applying themselves with
attention, tliey are to be kept in good humour, and
every thing made easy to them, and as pleasant as pos-
sible. Therefore, wherever they are at a stand, and
are willing to go forwards, help them presently over
the difficulty without any rebuke or chiding: remem-
bering that, where harsher ways are taken, they are
the effect only of pride and peevishness in the teacher,
who expects children should instantly be masters of as
much as he knows : whereas he should rather consid-
er, that his business is to settle in them habits, not an-
grily to inculcate rules, which serve for little in the
conduct of our lives ; at least are of no use to children,
who forget them as soon as given. In sciences where
their reason is to be exercised, I will not deny, but this
method may sometimes be varied, and difficulties pro-
posed on purpose to excite industry*, and accustom the
mind to employ its whole strength and sagacity in
reasoning. But yet, I guess, this is not to be done to
children whilst very young ; nor at their entrance
upon any sort of knowledge : then every thing of
itself is difficult, and the great use and skill of a teacher
is to make all as easy as he can. But particularly in
learning of languages there is least occasion for posing
of children. For languages being to be learned by
rote, custom, and memory, are then spoken in greatest
perfection, when all rules of giammar are utterly for-
gotten. I grant the grammar of a language is some-
times ver}' carefully to be studied : but it is only to be
studied by a grown man, when he applies himself to
the understanding of any language critically, which is
seldom the business of any but professed scholars.
This, I think, will be agreed to, that, if a gentleman be
to study any language, it ought to be that of his own
country, that he may understand the language, which
he has constant use of, with the utmost accuracy.

202

There is yet a farther reason, why masters and
teachers should raise no difficukies to tlieir scholars;
but, on the contrary, should smooth their way, and
readily help them forwards, where they find them stop.
Children's minds are narrow and weak, and usually
susceptible but of one thought at once. Whatever is
in a child's head, fills it for the time, especially if set
on with any passion. It should therefore be the skill
and art of the teacher, to clear their heads of all other
thoughts, whilst they are learning of any thing, the
better to make room for what he would instil into
them, that it may be received with attention and ap-
plication, without v.hich it leaves no impression. The
natural temper of children disposes their minds to
wander. Novelty alone takes them ; whatever that
presents, they are presently eager to have a taste of,
and are as soon satiated with it. They quickly grow
weary of the same thing, and so have almost their
whole delight in change and variety. It is a contra-
diction to the natural state of childhood, for them to
fix their fleeting thoughts. Whether this be owing to
the temper of their brains, or the quickness or insta-
bility of their animal spirits, over which the mind has
not yet got a full command ; this is visible, that it is a
pain to children to keep their thoughts steady to any
thing. A lasting continued attention is one of the
hardest tasks can be imposed on them : and therefore,
he that requires their application, should endeavour to
make what he proposes as grateful and agreeable as
possible ; at least, he ought to take care not to join
any displeasing or frightful idea with it. If they come
not to their books with some kind of liking and relish, it
is no wonder their thoughts should be perpetually
shifting from what disgusts them, and seek better en-
tertainment in more pleasing objects, after which they
will unavoidably be gadding.

LATI>. 203

It is, I know, the usual method of tutors, to en-
deavour to procure attention in their scholars, and to
fix their rriinds to the business in hand, by rebukes and
corrections, if they find them ever so little ^vandering.
But such treatment is sure to produce the quite con-
traiy effect. Passionate vv'ords or blows from the tutor
fill the child's mind with terror and atfrightment, which
immediately takes it wholly up, and leaves no room
for other impressions. I believe there is nobody, that
reads this, but may recollect, what disorder hasty or
imperious words from his parents or teachers have
caused in his thoughts; how for the time it has turned
his brains, so that he scarce knew what was said by,
or to him : he presently lost the sight of what he was
upon ; his mind was filled with disorder and confu-
sion, and in that state w^as no longer capable of atten-
tion to any thing else.

It is true, parents and governors ought to settle and
establish their authority, by an awe over the minds of
those under their tuition ; and to rule them by that :
but wiien they have got an ascendant over them, they
should use it with great moderation, and not make
themselves such scarecrows, that their scholars should
always tremble in their sight. Such an austerity may
make their government easy to themselves, but of very
little use to their pupils. It is impossible children
should learn any thing, whilst their thoughts are pos-
sessed and disturbed with any passion, especially fear,
which makes the strongest impression on their yet ten-
der and weak spirits. Keep the mind m an easy calm
temper, when you would have it receive your instruc-
tions, or any increase of knowledge. It is as impossi-
ble to draw fair and regular characters on a trembling
mind, as on a shaking paper.

The great skill of a teacher is to get and keep the
attention of his scholar : whilst he has that, he is sure

204 LOCKE.

to advance as fast as the learner's abilities will carry
him ; and without that, all his bustle and pother will
be to little or no purpose. To attain this, he should
make the child comprehend, (as much as may be,) the
usefulness of what he teaches him; and let him see,
by what he has learned, that he can do something
which he could not do before ; something which gives
him some power and real advantage above others, who
are ignorant of it. To this he should add sweetness
in all his instructions ; and by a certain tenderness in
his whole carriage, make the child sensible that he loves
him, and designs nothing but his good ; the only way
to beget love in the child, which will make him heark-
en to his lessons, and rehsh what he teaches him.

Nothing but obstinacy should meet with any imperi-
ousness or rough usage. All other faults should be cor-
rected with a gentle hand; and kind encouraging words
will work better and more effectually upon a willing
mind and even prevent a good deal of that perverse-
ness, which rough and imperious usage often produces
in well-disposed and generous minds. It is true, ob-
stinacy and wilful neglects must be mastered, even
though it cost blows to do it : but I am apt to think per-
verseness in the pupils is often the effect of froward-
ness in the tutor : and that most children would sel-
dom have deserved blows, if needless and misapphed
roughness had not taught them ill-nature, and given
them an aversion to their teacher and all that comes
from him.

Inadvertency, forgetfulness, unsteadiness, and wan-
dering of thought, are the natural faults of childhood ;
and therefore, when they are not observed to be wilful,
are to be mentioned softly, and gained upon by time.
If every slip of this kind produces anger and rating,
the occasions of rebuke and corrections will return so
often that the tutor will be a constant terror and un-

^ LATI>-. 205

easiness to his pupils ; which one thing is enough to
hinder their profiting by his lessons, and to defeat all
his methods of instruction.

Let the awe he has got upon their minds be so tem-
pered with the constant marks of tenderness and good
will, that affection may spur them to their duty, and
make them find a pleasure in complying with his dic-
tates. This will bring them with satisfaction to their
tutor ; make them hearken to him, as to one who is
their friend, that cherishes them, and takes pains for
their good ; this will keep their thoughts easy and free,
whilst they are with him, the only temper wherein the
mind is capable of receiving new informations, and of
admitting into itself those impressions, which if not
taken and retained, all that they and their teacher do
together is lost labour ; there is much uneasiness, and
little learning.

§ 16*2. When, by this way of interlining Latin and
English one with another, he has got a moderate know-,
ledge of the Latin tongue, he may then be advanced a
little farther to the reading of some other easy Latin
book, such as Justin, or Eutropius ; and to make the
reading and understanding of it the less tedious and
difiicult to him, let him help himself, if he please, with
the English translation. Nor let the objection, that he
will then know it only by rote, fright any one. This,
when well considered, is not of any moment against,
but plainly for, this way of learning a language ; for
languages are only to be learned by rote : and a man,
who does not speak English or Latin perfectly by rote,
so that having thought of the thing he would speak of,
his tongue of course, without thought of rule or gram-
mar, falls into the proper expression and idiom of that
language, does not speak it well, nor is master of it.
And I would fain have any one name to me that tongue,
that any one can learn or speak as he should do, by the

206 LOCKE.

rules of grammar. Languages were made not by rules
or art, but by accident, and the common use of the
people. And he that will speak them well, has no
other rule but that ; nor any thing to trust to but his
memory, and the habit of speaking after the fashion
learned from those that are allowed to speak properly,
which, in other words, is only to speak by rote.

It will possibly be asked liere, Is grammar then of
no use ? x\nd have those who have

GRA3IMAR. ^ , i • • i •

taken so much pams m reducmg sev-
eral languages to rules and observations, who have writ
so much about declensions and conjugations, about con-
cords and syntaxis, lost their labour, and been learned
to no purpose ? I say not so ; grammar has its place
too. But this I think I may say, there is more stir a
great deal made with it than there needs, and those are
tormented about it, to whom it does not at all belong ;
I mean children, at the age wherein they are usually
perplexed with it in grammar-schools.

There is nothing more evident, than that languages
learned by rote serve well enough for the conmion
affairs of hfe, and ordinarj^ commerce. Nay, persons
of quality of the softer sex, and such of them as have
spent their time in well-bred company, show us, that
this plain natural way, without the least study or know-
ledge of grammar, can carr}* them to a great degree of
elegancy and politeness in their language : and there
are ladies who, without knovring what tenses and par-
ticiples, adverbs and prepositions are, speak as prop-
erly, and as correctly, (they might take it for an ill
compliment, if I said as any countiy school-master,) as
most gentlemen who have been bred up in the ordinary-
methods of grammar-schools. Grammar, therefore, we
see may be spared in some cases. The question then
will be. To whom should it be taught, and when ? To
this I answer.

GRAMMAR.

207

1. Men learn languages for the ordiuaiy intercourse
of society, and communication of thoughts in common
life, without any farther design in their use of them.
And for this purpose the original w&j of learning a
language by conversation not only serves well enough,
but is to be preferred as the most expedite, proper,
and natural. Therefore, to this use of language one
may answer, that grammar is not necessaiy. This so
many of my readers must be forced to allow, as under-
stand what I here say, and who conversing with others,
understand them without having ever been taught the
grammar of the English tongue : which I suppose is
the case of incomparably the greatest part of English-
men ; of whom I have never yet known any one who
learned his mother-tongue by rules.

2. Others there are, the greatest part of whose busi-
ness in this world is to be done with their tongues, and
with their pens ; and to those it is convenient, if not
necessaiy, that they should speak properly and correct-
ly, whereby they may let their thoughts into other
men's minds the more easily, and with the greater im-
pression. Upon this account it is, that any sort of
speaking, so as will make him be understood, is not
thought enough for a gentleman. He ought to study
grammar, amongst the other helps of speaking well ;
but it must be the gi-ammar of his own tongue, of the
language he uses, that he may understand his own
country speech nicely, and speak it properly, without
shocking the ears of those it is addressed to with sole-
cisms and offensive irregularities. And to this purpose
grammar is necessary ; but it is the grammar only of
their own proper tongues, and to those only who would
take pains in cultivating their language, and in peifect-
ing their styles. Whether all gentlemen should not do
this, I leave to be considered, since the want of pro-
priety, and grammatical exactness, is thought very mis-

208

becoming one of that rank, and usuall}^ draws on
one guilty of svich faults the censure of having had a
lower breeding, and worse company than suits with his
quality. If this be so, (as I suppose it is,) it will be
matter of wonder, why young gentlemen are forced to
learn the grammars of foreign and dead languages, and
are never once told of the grammar of their own
tongues : they do not so much as know there is any
such thing, much less is it made their business to be
instructed in it. Nor is their own language ever pro-
posed to them as worthy their care and cultivating,
though they have daily use of it, and are not seldom in
the future course of their lives judged of, by their hand-
some or awkward way of expressing themselves in it.
Whereas the languages whose grammars they have
been so much employed in, are such as probably they
shall scarce ever speak or write ; or, if upon occasion
this should happen, they shall be excused for the mis-
takes and faults they make in it. Would not a Chi-
nese, who took notice of this way of breeding, be apt
to imagine, that all our young gentlemen were design-
ed to be teachers and professors of the dead languages
of foreign countries, and not to be men of business in
their own ?

3. There is a third sort of men, who apply them-
selves to two or three foreign, dead, (and which amongst
us are called the learned,) languages, make them their
study, and pique themselves upon their skill in them.
No doubt those who propose to themselves the learning
of any language with this view, and would be critically
exact in it, ought carefully to study the grammar of it.
I would not be mistaken here, as if this were to under-
value Greek and Latin : I grant these are languages
of great use and excellency ; and a man can have no
place amongst the learned, in this part oF the world,
who is a stranger to them. But the knowledge a gen-

GRAMMAR. 209

tleman would ordinarily draw for his use, out of the
Roman and Greek writers, T think he may attain with-
out studying the grammars of those tongues, and, by
bare reading, may come to understand them sufficiently
for all his purposes. How much farther he shall at
any time be concerned to look into the grammar and
critical niceties of either of these tongues, he himself
will be able to determine, when he comes to propose
to himself the study of any thing that shall require it.
Which brings me to the other part of the inquiry, viz.

" When grammar should be taught ?"

To which, upon the premised grounds, the answer
is obvious, viz.

That if grammar ought to be taught at any time, it
must be to one that can speak the language already :
how else can he be taught the grammar of it ? This, at
least, is evident from the practice of the wise and
learned nations amongst the ancients. They made it
a part of education to cultivate their own, not foreign
tongues. The Greeks counted all other nations barba-
rous, and had a contempt for their languages. And,
though the Greek learning grew in credit amongst the
Romans, towards the end of their commonwealth, yet
it was the Roman tongue that was made the study of
their youth : their own language they were to make
use of, and therefore it was their own language they
were instructed and exercised in.

But more particularly to determine the proper season
for grammar ; I do not see how it can reasonably be
made any one's study, but as an introduction to rheto-
ric : when it is thought time to put any one upon the
care of polishing his tongue, and of speaking better
than the illiterate, then is the time for him to be in-
structed in the rules of grammar, and not before. For
grammar being to teach men not to speak, but to speak
correctly, and according to the exact rules of the tongue,
which is one part of elegancy, there is little use of the

d

210

one to him that has no need of the other ; where rheto-
ric is not necessary, grammar may he spared. I know
not why any one should waste his time and beat his
head about the Latin grammar, who does not intend to
be a critic, or make speeches, and write despatches in
it. When any one finds in liimself a necessity or dis-
position to study any foreign language to the bottom,
and to be nicely exact in the knowledge of it, it will be
time enough to take a gi"ammatical survey of it. If
his use of it be only to understand some books writ in
it without a critical knowledge of the tongue itself,
reading alone, as I have said, will attain this end, with-
out charging the mind with the multiplied rules and
intricacies of grammar.

§ 163. For the exercise of his writing, let him some-
times translate Latin into English : but the learning of
Latin being nothing l)ut the learning of words, a very
unpleasant business both to young and old, join as much
other real knowledge with it as you can, beginning still
with that which lies most obvious to the senses ; such
as is the knowledge of minerals, plants, and animals,
and particularly timber and fruit trees, their parts and
ways of propagation, wherein a great deal may be
taught a child, which will not be useless to the man.
But more especialh' geography, astronomy, and anat-
omy. But whatever you are teaching him, have a care
still, that you do not clog him with too much at once ;
or make aiiy thing his business but downright virtue,
or reprove him for any thing but vice, or some appa-
rent tendency to it.

§ 164. But, if, after all, his fate be to go to school
to get the Latin tongue, it Avill be in vain to talk to you
concerning the method I think best to be observed in
schools. You must submit to that you find there, not
expect to have it changed for your
son ; but yet by all means obtain, if
you can, that he be not employed in making Latin

THEMES. 211

themes and declamations, and, least of all, verses of any-
kind."^ You may insist on it, if it will do any good, tliat
you have no design to make him either a Latin orator
or poet, but barely would have him understand })er-
fectly a Latin author ; and that you observe those who
teach any of the modern languages, and that with suc-
cess, never amuse their scholars to make speeches or
verses either in French or Ttahan, their business being
language barely and not invention.

§ 1(35. But to tell you, a little more fully, why I
would not have him exercised in making of themes and
verses: ]. As to themes, they have, I confess, the pre-
tence of something useful, v»hich is to teach people to
speak handsomely and well on any subject ; which, if
it could be attained this way, I own would be a great
advantage ; there being nothing more becoming a gen-
tleman, nor more useful in all the occuiTcnces of life,
than to be able, on any occasion, to speak well, and to
the purpose. But this I say, that the making of
themes, as is usual in schools, helps not one jot towards
it : for do but consider what it is in making a theme
that a young lad is employed about ; it is to make a
speech on some Latin saying, as " Omnia vincitamor,"
or " Xon licet in bello bis peccare," &c. And hero
the poor lad, who wants knowledge of those things he
is to speak of, which is to be had only from time and
observation, must set his invention on the rack, to say
sometliing where he knows nothing, which is a sort of
^Egyptian tyranny, to bid them make bricks who have
not yet any of the materials. And therefore it is usual,
in such cases, for the poor children to go to those of
higher forms with this petition, " Pray give me a little
sense ;" wliicli whether it be more reasonable or more

* In this and several following topics, the author seems en-
tirely to overlook the benefits cf practice, the most efxectual
inethod of learninof. — Ed.]

oa

'212 LOCKE.

ridiculous, is not easy to determine. Before a man
can be in any capacity to speak on any subject, it is
necessary lie be acquainted ^vith it ; or else it is as
foolish to set him to discourse of it, as to set a blind
man to talk of colours, or a deaf man of music. And
would you not think him a little cracked who would
require another to make an argument on a moot-point,
who understands nothing of our laws ? And what, I
pray, do school-boys understand concerning those mat-
ters, which are used to be proposed to them in their
themes, as subjects to discourse on, to whet and exer-
cise their fancies r

§ 1G6. In the next place, consider the language that
their themes are made in : it is Latin, a language foreign
in their countiy, and long since dead every^ where ; a
language which your son, it is a thousand to one, shall
never have an occasion once to make a speech in as
long as he lives, after he comes to be a man ; and a
language, wherein the manner of expressing one's self
is so far different from ours, that to be perfect in that,
would very little improve the purity and facility of his
English style. Besides that, there is now so little room
or use for set speeches in our own language in any
part of our English business, that I can see no pretence
for this sort of exercise in our schools ; unless it can
be supposed, that the making of set Latin speeches
should be the way to teach men to speak well in Eng-
lish extempore. The way to that I should think rath-
er to be this : that there should be proposed to young
gentlemen rational and useful questions, suited to their
age and capacities, and on subjects not wholly un-
known to them, nor out of their way : such as these,
when they are ripe for exercises of this nature, they
should, extempore, or after a little meditation upon the
spot, speak to, without penning of any thing. For I
ask, if he will examine the effects of this way of learn-
ing to speak well, who speak best in any business,

VERSIFTIXG. 213

when occasion calls them to it upon any debate ; either
those who have accustomed themselves to compose and
write down beforehand what they would say, or those
who thinking only of the matter, to understand that as
well as they can, use themselves only to speak extem-
pore ? And he that shall judge by this, will be little
apt to think, that the accustoming him to studied
speeches, and set compositions, is the way to fit a
young gentleman for business.

§ 167. But, perhaps, we shall be told, it is to im-
prove and perfect them in the Latin tongue. It is true,
that is their proper business at school ; but the making
of themes is not the way to it : that perplexes their
brains, about invention of things to be said, not about
the signification of words to be learnt; and, when they
are making a theme, it is thoughts they search and
sweat for, and not language. But the learning and
masteiy of a tongue, being uneasy and unpleasant
enough in itself, should not be cumbered with any
other difficulties, as is done in this way of proceeding.
In fine, if boys' invention be to be quickened by such
exercise, let them make themes in English, where they
have facility, and a command of words, and will better
see what kind of thoughts they have, when put into their
own language: and, if the Latin tongue be to be learn-
ed, let it be done in the easiest way, without toiling and
disgusting the mind by so uneasy an employment as
that of making speeches joined to it.

<S 168. If these mav be any rea-

^ -.111 5 ' 1 • J VERSIFTIXG.

sons against children's making Latin
themes at school, I have much more to say, and of more
weight, against their making vei-ses of any sort : for if
he has no genius to poetiy, it is the most unreasonable
thing in the world to torment a child, and waste his
time about that which can never succeed ; and if he
have a poetic vein, it is to me the strangest thing in
the world, that the father should desire or suffer it to

214 LOCKE.

be cherished or improved. Methinks the parents
should labour to have it stifled and supi)ressed as much
as may be ; and I know not what reason a father can
have to wish his son a poet, who does not desire to
have him bid defiance to all other callings and busi-
ness : which is not yet the worst of the case ; for if he
proves a successful rhymer, and gets once the reputa-
tion of a wit, I desire it may be considered what com-
pany and places he is likely to spend his time in, nay,
and estate too : for it is very seldom seen, that any one
discovers mines of gold or silver in Parnassus. It is a
pleasant air, but a barren soil ; and there are very few
instances of those who have added to their patrimony
by any thing they have reaped from thence. Poetry
and gaming, which usually go together, are alike in this
too, that they seldom bring any advantage, but to those
who have nothing else to live on. Men of estates al-
most constantly go away losers ; and it is well if they
escape at a cheaper rate than their whole estates, or
the greatest part of them. If, therefore, you would not
have your son the fiddle to every jovial company, with-
out whom the sparks could not relish their wine, nor
know how to pass an afternoon idly ; if you would not
have him waste his time and estate to divert others,
and contemn the dirty acres left him by his ancestors,
I do not think you will much care he should be a poet,
or that his school-master should enter him in versify-
ing. But yet, if any one will think poetry a desirable
quality in his son, and that the study of it would raise
his fancy and parts, he must needs yet confess, that, to
that end, reading the excellent Greek and Roman poets
is of more use than making bad verses of his own, in a
language that is not his own. And he, whose design
it is to excel in English poetry, v.ould not, I guess,
think the way to it were to make his first essays in
Latin verses.

§ 169. Another thing, very ordinary in the vulgar

MEMORITER RECITATION. 215

method of grammar-schools, there is, of which I see no
use at all, unless it be to balk young

11.,, ,1 . , " ° MEMORITER

lads in the way to learning languages,

,. , . "^ . . 1 nu 1 RECITATIO:y.

which, m my opinion, should be made
as easy and pleasant as may be ; and that which was
painful in it, as much as possible, quite removed. That
which I mean, and here complain of, is, their being
forced to learn l\v heart great parcels of the authors
which are taught them ; wherein I can discover no ad-
vantage at all, especially to the business they are upon.
Languages are to be learnt only by reading and talking,
and not by scraps of authors got by heart ; which when
a man's head is stuffed with, he has got the just furni-
ture of a pedant, and it is the ready way to make him
one, than which there is nothing less becoming a gen-
tleman. For what can be more ridiculous, than to
mix the rich and handsome thoughts and sayings of
others with a deal of poor stuff of his own ; which is
thereby the more exposed ; and has no other grace in
it, nor will otherwise recommend the speaker than a
thread-bare russet coat would, that was set off with
large patches of scarlet and glittering brocade ? In-
deed, where a passage comes in the. way, whose matter
is worth remembrance, and the expression of it very
close and excellent, (as there are many such in the an-
cient authors,) it may not be amiss to lodge it in the
minds of young scholars, and with such admirable
strokes of those great masters sometimes exercise the
memories of school-boys : but their learning of their
lessons by heart, as they happen to fall out in their
books, without choice or distinction, I know not what
it serves for, but to mispend their time and pains, and
give them a disgust and aversion to their books, where-
in they find nothing but useless trouble.

§ 170. I hear it is said, that children should be em-
ployed in getting things by heart, to exercise and im-

216 LOCKE.

prove their memories. I could wish this were said
with as much authority of reason, as it is with for-
wardness of assurance ; and that tliis practice were
established upon good observation, more than old cus-
tom ; for it is evident, that strength of memory is ow-
ing to a happy constitution, and not to any habitual
improvement got by exercise. It is true, wiiat the
mmd is intent upon, and for fear of letting it shp, often
imprints afresh on itself by frequent reflection, that it
is apt to retain, but still according to its own natural
strength of retention. An impression made on bees-
wax or lead will not last so long as on brass or steel.
Indeed, if it be renewed often, it may last the longer ;
but eveiy new reflecting on it isi a new impression,
and it is from thence one is to reckon, if one would
know how long the mind retains it. But the learning
pages of Latm by heart, no more fits the memory for
retention of any thing else, than the graving of one
sentence in lead, makes it the more capable of retain-
ing firmly any other characters. If such a sort of exer-
cise of the memory were able to give it strength, and
improve our parts, players of all other people must
needs have the best memories, and be the best com-
pany : but whether the scraps they have got into their
head this w^ay, make them remember other things the
better ; and whether their parts be improved propor-
tionably to the pains they have taken in getting by
heart other sayings ; experience will show. Memory
is so necessary to all parts and conditions of life, and
so little is to be done without it, that we are not to fear
it should grow dull and useless for want of exercise,
if exercise would make it grow stronger. But I fear
this faculty of the mind is not capable of much help
and amendment in general, by any exercise or endeav-
our of ours, at least not by that used upon this pre-
tence in gi-ammar-schools. And if Xerxes was able

MEMORITER RECITATIO>'. 217

to call eveiy common soldier by his name, in his army,
that consisted of no less than a hundred thousand men,
I think it may be guessed, he got not this wonderful
ability by learning his lessons by heart, when he was
a boy. This method of exercising and improving the
memory by toilsome repetitions, without book, of what
they read, is, I think, little used in the education of
princes ; which, if it had that advantage talked of,
should be as little neglected in them, as in the meanest
school-boys ; princes having as much need of good
memories as any men living, and have generally an
equal share in this faculty with other men : though it
has never been taken care of this way. What the
mind is intent upon, and careful of, that it remembers
best, and for the reason above mentioned : to which if
method and order be joined, all is done, I think, that
can be, for the help of a weak memor}' ; and he that
will take any other way to do it, especially that of
charging it with a train of other people's words, which
he that leanis cares not for ; will, I guess, scarce find
the profit answer half the time and pains employed
in it.

I do not mean hereby, that there should be no ex-
ercise given to children's memories. I think their
memories should be euiployed, but not in learning by
rote whole pages out of books, which, the lesson being
once said, and that task over, are delivered up again
to oblivion, and neglected forever. This mends neither
the memory nor the mind. What they should learn
by heart out of authors, I have above mentioned : and
such wise and useful sentences being once given in
charge to their memories, they should never be suf-
fered to forget again, but be often called to account for
them : whereby, besides the use those sayings may be
to them in their future life, as so many good rules and
observations ; they will be taught to reflect often, and

218 LOCKE.

bethink themselves %vhat they have to remember,
which is the only way to make the memoiy quick and
useful. The custom of frequent reflection will keep
their minds from running adrift, and call their thoughts
home from useless, inattentive roving: and therefore,
I think, it may do well to give them something every
day to remember : but something stiU, that is in itself
worth the remembering, and w^hat you would never
have out of mind, whenever jou call, or they them-
selves search for it. This will obhge them often to
turn their thoughts inwards, than which you cannot
wish them a better intellectual habit.

•^171. But mider whose care soever a child is put
to be taught, during the tender and
^^ ^' ' flexible years of his life, this^ is cer-

tain, it should be one who thinks Latin and language
tlie least part of education ; one, who knowing how
much virtue, and a well-tempered soul, is to be pre-
ferred to any sort of learning or language, makes it his
chief business to form the mind of his scholars, and
give that a right disposition : which, if once got,
though all the rest should be neglected, would, in due
time, produce all the rest ; and which if it be not got,
and settled, so as to keep out ill and vicious habits,
languages and sciences, and all the other accom-
phshments of education, will be to no purpose, but
to make the worse or more dangerous man. And
indeed, whatever stir there is made about getting of
Latin, as the great and diflicult business ; his mother
may teach it him herself, if she will but spend two or
three hours in a day with him, and make him read the
evangelists in Latin to her : for she need but buy a
Latin Testament, and having got somebody to mark
the last syllable but one, where it is long, in words
above two syllables, (which is enough to regulate her
pronunciation, and accenting the words,) read daily in

GEOGRAPHr. 219

the Gospels ; and then let her avoid understanding
them in Latin, if she can. And when she understands
the Evangelists in Latin, let her, in the same manner,
read ^Esop's Fables, and so proceed on to Eutropius,
Justin, and other such books. I do not mention this
as an imagination of ^vhat I fancy may do, but as of a
thing I have known done, and the Latin tongue, with
ease, got this way.

But to return to what I was saying : he that takes on
him the charge of bringing up young men, especially
young gentlemen, should have something more in him
than Latin, more than even a knowledge in the liberal
sciences ; he should be a person of eminent virtue and
prudence, and wath good sense have good humour,
and the skill to carry himself with gravity, ease, and
kisdness, in a constant conversation with his pupils.
But of this I have spoken at large in another place.

§ 172. At the same time that he is learning French
and Latin, a child, as has been said,

1 ' ' I • •», ^- GEOGRAPHY.

may also be entered m arithmetic,
geography, chronolog}^ history, and geometry too.
For if these be taught him in French or Latin, when
lie begins once to understand either of these tongues,
he will get a knowledge in these sciences, and the lan-
guage to boot.

Geography, I think, should be begun with ; for the
learning of the figure of the globe, the situation and
boundaries of the four parts of the world, and that of
particular kingdoms and countries, being only an exer-
cise of the eyes and memory, a child with pleasure
will learn and retain them : and this is so certain, that
I now live in the house wdth a child, whom his mother
has so well instructed this way in geography, that he
knew the limits of the four parts of the world, could
readily point, being asked, to any coiintr>' upon the
globe, or any county in the map of England ; knew all

2*20 LOCKE.

the great rivers, promontories, straits, and bays in the
world, and could find the longitude and latitude of any
place, before he was six years old. These things, that
he will thus learn by sight, and have by rote in his
memory, are not all, I confess, that he is to learn upon
the globes. But yet it is a good step and preparation
to it, and will make the remainder much easier, when
his judgment is grown ripe enough for it : besides that,
it gets so much time now, and by the pleasure of
knowing things, leads him on insensibly to the gaining
of languages.

§ 173. When he has the natural parts of the globe
well fixed in his memon,', it may then be time to begin
arithmetic. By the natural parts of the globe, I mean
several positions of the parts of the earth and sea,
under ditferent names and distinctions of countries;
not coming yet to those artificial and imaginary lines,
which have been invented, and are only supposed, for
the better improvement of that science.

§ 174. Ai'ithmetic is the easiest, and, consequently,
the first sort of abstract reasoning,

ARITHMETIC i • i .i • i i i

which the mind commonly bears, or
accustoms itself to : and is of so general use in all
parts of life and business, that scarce any thing is to
be done without it. This is certain, a man cannot
have too much of it, nor too perfectly ; he should
therefore begin to be exercised in counting, as soon,
and as far, as he is capable of it ; and do something in
it eveiy day, till he is master of the art of numbers.
When he understands addition and subtraction, he
may then be advanced farther in geography, and after
he is acquainted vritli the poles, zones, parallel circles,
and meridians, be taught longitude and latitude, and
by them be made to understand the use of maps, and
by the numbers placed on their sides, to know the re-
spective situation of countries, and how to find them

ASTRONOMY.

221

out on the terrestrial globe. Which when he can
readily do, he may then be entered in the celestial ;
and tiiei-e going over all the circles astronomy.

again, with a more particular obser-
vation of the ecliptic or zodiac, to fix them all very
clearly and distinctly in his mind, he may be taught
the figure and position of the several constellations,
which may be showed him first upon the globe, and
then in the heavens.

When that is done, and he knows pretty well the
constellations of this our hemisphere, it may be time
to give him some notions of this our planetar\- world,
and to tliat purpose it may not be amiss to make him
a draught of the Copernican system ; and therein ex-
plain to him the situation of the planets, their respec-
tive distances from the sun, the centre of their revolu-
tions. This will prepare him to understand the motion,
and theory of the planets, the most easy and natural
way. For, since astronomers no longer doubt of the
motion of the planets about the sun, it is fit he should
proceed upon that hypothesis, which is not only the
simplest and least perplexed for a learner, but also the
likehest to be true in itself. But in this, as in all other
parts of instruction, great care must be taken with
children, to begin with that which is plain and simple,
and to teach them as little as can be at once, and set-
tle that well in their heads, before you proceed to the
next, or any thing new in that science. Give them
first one simple idea, and see that they take it right,
and perfectly comprehend it, before you go any far-
ther ; and then add some other simple idea, which lies
next in your way to what you aim at ; and so pro-
ceeding by gentle and insensible steps, children, with-
out confusion and amazement, will have their under-
standings opened, and their thoughts extended, farther
than could have been expected. And when any one

222 LOCKE.

has learned any thing himself, there is no such way
to fix it in his memory, and to encourage him to go on,
as to set him to teach it others.

175. When he lias once got such an acquaintance
v.ith the globes, as is above men-

GEOMETRY. . , , *= I r- i • j

tioned, he may be nt to be tried a
little in geometry ; wherein I think the six first books
of Euclid enough for him to be taught. For I am in
some doubt, whether more to a man of business be
necessary or useful ; at least if he have a genius and
inclination to it, being entered so far by his tutor, he
will be able to go on of himself without a teacher.

The globes, therefore, must be studied, and that dili-
gently, and, I think, may be begun betimes, if the
tutor will but be careful to distinguish what the child
is capable of knowing, and what not ; for which this
may be a rule, that perhaps will go a pretty way, (viz.)
that children may be taught any thing that falls under
their senses, especially their sight, as far as their mem-
ories only are exercised : and thus a child very young
may learn, which is the equator, which the meridian,
&c. which Europe, and which England, upon the
globes, as soon almost as he knows the rooms of the
house he lives in ; if care be taken not to teach him
too much at once, nor to set him upon a new part, till
that, which he is upon, be perfectly learned and fixed
in his memor}-.

§ 176. With geography, chronology ought to go
hand in hand : I mean the eeneral

CHROXOLOGT. . /• •. .i' . u " • u-

part of It, so that he may have in his
mind a view of the whole current of time, and the
several considerable epochs that are made use of in
history. Without these two, history*, which is the
great mistress of prudence and civil knowledge ; and
ought to be the proper study of a gentleman, or man
of business in the world ; without geography and

HISTORY. 223

chronology, I say, histoiy will be very ill retained, and
very little useful ; but be only a jumble of matters of
fact, confusedly heaped together without order or in-
struction. It is by these two that the actions of man-
kind are ranked into their proper places of times and
countries ; under which circumstances, they are not
only much easier kept in the nuemory, but, in that nat-
ural order, are only capable to atford those observa-
tions, which make a man the better and the abler for
reading them.

§ 177. When I speak of chronology as a science he
should be perfect in, I do not mean the little contro-
versies that are in it. These are endless, and most of
them of so little importance to a gentleman, as not to
deserve to be inquired into, were they capable of an
easy decision. And therefore all that learned noise
and dust of the chronologist is wholly to be avoided.
The most useful book I have seen in that part of learn-
ing, is a small treatise of Strauchius, which is printed
in twelves, under the title of " Breviarium Chronologi-
cum," out of which may be selected all that is neces-
saiT to be taught a young gentleman conceraing chro-
nology ; for all that is in that treatise a learner need
not be cumbered with. He has in him the most re-
markable or usual epochs reduced all to that of the
Julian period, which is the easiest, and plainest, and
surest method, that can be made use of in chronology'.
To this treatise of Strauchius, Helvicus's tables may
be added, as a book to be turned to on all occasions.

§ 178. As nothing teaches, so nothing dehghts,
more than historv. The first of these

, . / , .1 i^ HISTORY.

recommends it to the study oi grown
men ; the latter makes me think it the fittest for a
young lad, who, as soon as he is instructed in chronol-
ogy, and acquainted with the several epochs in use in
this part of the world, and can reduce them to the

224 LOCKE.

Julian period, should then have some Latin history put
into his hand. The choice should be directed by the
easiness of the style ; for wherever he begins, chronol-
ogy will keep it from confusion ; and the pleasantness
of the subject inviting him to read, the language will
insensibly be got, without that terrible vexation and
uneasiness, which children suffer wliere they are put
into books beyond their capacity, such as are the Ro-
man orators and poets, only to learn the Roman lan-
guage. When he has by reading mastered the easier,
such perhaps as Justin, Eutropius, Quintus Curtius,
&c. the next degree to these will give him no gi-eat
trouble ; and thus, by a gradual progress from the
plainest and easiest historians, he may at last come to
read the most ditScult and sublime of the Latin au-
thors, such as are Tully, Virgil, and Horace.

§179. The knowledge of virtue, all along from the
beginning, in all the instances he is
capable of, being taught him, more
by practice than rules; and the love of reputation,
instead of satisfying his appetite, being made habitual
in him ; I know not whether he should read any
other discourses of morality, but what he finds in the
Bible ; or have any system of ethics put into his hand,
till he can read Tully's Otfices, not as a school-boy to
learn Latin, but as one that would be informed in the
principles and precepts of virtue, for the conduct of
his hfe.

§180. AVhen he has pretty well digested Tully's
Offices, and added to it " Puffendorf

CIVIL LAW. , „ ^' . ,T •• . n- • ?5 ■.

de Officio Hommis et Civis," it may
be seasonable to set him upon " Grotius de Jure Belli
et Pacis," or, which perhaps is the better of the two,
" Puffendorf de Jure Naturali et Gentium," wherein
he will be instructed in the natural rights of men, and
the original and foundations of society, and the duties

ENGLISH LAW. 225

resulting from thence. This general part of civil law
and history arc studies which a gentleman should not
barely touch at, but constantly dwell upon, and never
have done with. A virtuous and well-behaved young
man, that is well versed in the general part of tlie civil
law, (which concerns not the chicane of private cases,
but the affairs and intercourse of civihzed nations in
general, grounded upon principles of reason,) under-
stands Latin well, and can write a good hand, one may
tuni loose into the world, with great assurance that he
will find employment and esteem every where.

'^ISl. It would be strange to suppose an English
gentleman should be ignorant of the

^ ^ , . ^ ^, . , ^ ENGLISH LAW.

law of his country. Ihis, whatever
station he is in, is so requisite, that, from a justice of
the peace to a minister of state, I know no place he
can well fill without it. I do not mean the chicane or
wrangling and captious part of the law ; a gentleman
whose business is to seek the true measures of right
and wrong, and not the arts how to avoid doing the
one, and secure himself in doing the other, ought to
be as far from such a study of the law, as he is con-
cerned diligently to apply himself to that wherein he
may be serviceable to his country. And to that pur-
pose I think the right way for a gentleman to study
our law, which he does not design for his calling, is to
take a view of our English constitution and govern-
ment, in the ancient books of the common law, and
some more modern writers, who out of them have
given an account of this government. And having
got a true idea of that, then to read our history, and
with it join in every king's reign the laws then made.
This will give an insight into the reason of our stat-
utes, and show the, true ground upon which they came
to be made, and what weight they ought to have.
§ 182. Rhetoric and logic being the arts that in the
P

226 LOCKE.

ordinary method usually follow immediately after gram-
mar, it may perhaps be wondered,

RHETORIC. .1 . T 1 1 r**l r .u

that I have said so little of them.

The reason is, because of the little
advantage young people receive by them ; for I have
seldom or never observed any one to get the skill of
reasoning well, or speaking handsomely, by studying
those rules which pretend to teach it : and therefore I
would have a young gentleman take a view of them
in the shortest systems could be found, without dwell-
ing long on the contemplation and study of those for-
malities. Right reasoning is founded on something
else than the predicaments and predicables, and does
not consist in talking in mode and figure itself But
it is besides my present business to enlarge upon this
speculation. To come therefore to what we have in
hand ; if you would have your son reason well, let
him read Chillingworth ; and if you would have him
speak well, let him be conversant in Tully, to give him
the true idea of eloquence ; and let him read those
things that are well writ in English, to perfect his
style in the purity of our language.

§183. If the use and end of right reasoning be to
have right notions, and a right judgment of things;
to distinguish betwixt truth and falsehood, right and
wrong, and to act accordingly ; be sure not to let your
son be bred up in the art and formality of disputing,
either practising it himself, or admiring it in others ;
unless, instead of an able man, you desire to have him
an insigniticant wrangler, opiniatre in discourse, and
priding himself in contradicting others : or, which is
worse, questioning every thing, and thinking there is
no such thing as truth to be sought, but only victory,
in disputing. There cannot be any thing so disingen-
uous, so misbecoming a gentleman, or any one who
pretends to be a rational creature, as not to yield to

RHETORIC, LOGIC. -227

plain reason, and the conviction of clear arguments.
Is there any thing more inconsistent with civil conver-
sation, and the end of all debate, than not to take an
answer, though ever so full and satisfactory ; but still
to go oti with the dispute, as long as equivocal sounds
can furnish [a " medius terminus"] a term to wrangle
with on the one side, or a distinction on the other?
Whether pertinent or impertinent, sense or nonsense,
agreeing with, or contrary to, what he bad said before,
it matters not. For this, in short, is the way and per-
fection of logical disputes, that the opponent never
takes any answer, nor the respondent ever yields to any
argument. This neither of them must do, whatever
becomes of truth or knowledge, unless he will pass for
a poor baffled wretch, and lie under the disgrace of not
being able to maintain whatever he has once affirmed,
which is the great aim and gloiT in disputing. Truth
is to be found and supported by a mature and due con-
sideration of things themselves, and not by artificial
terms and ways of arguing: these lead not men so
much into the discovery of truth, as into a captious
and fallacious use of doubtful words, which is the
most useless and most offensive way of talking and
such as least suits a gentleman or a lover of truth of
any thing in the world.

There can scarce be a greater defect in a gentleman,
than not to express himself well, either in writing or
speaking. But yet, I think, I may ask my reader.
Whether, he doth not know a great many, who live
upon their estates, and so, with the name, should iiave
the qualities of gentlemen, who cannot so much as tell
a story as they should, much less speak clearly and
persuasively in any business? This I think not to be
so much their fault, as the fault of their education ;
for I must, without partiality, do my countrymen this
right, that where they apply themselves, I see none of
p2

228 LOCKE.

their neighbours outgo them. They have been taught
rhetoric, but yet never taught how to express them-
selves handsomely with their tongues, or pens, in
the language they are always to use ; as if the names
of the figures, that embellished the discourses of those
who understood the art of speaking, were the very art
and skill of speaking well. This, as all other things
of practice, is to be learned not by a few or a great
many rules given, but by exercise and application, ac-
cording to good rules, or rather patterns, till habits are
got, and a facility of doing it well.

Agreeable hereunto, perhaps it might not be amiss
to make children, as soon as they are
capable of it, often to tell a story of
any thing they know ; and to correct at first the most
remarkable fault they are guilty of, in their way of
putting it together. When that fault is cured, then to
show them the next, and so on, till, one after another,
all, at least the gross ones, are mended. AVhen they
can tell tales pretty well, then it may be time to make
them write them. The Fables of vEsop, the only
book almost that I know fit for children, may afford
them matter for this exercise of writing English, as
w^ell as for reading and translating, to enter them in
the Latin tongue. When they are got past the faults
of granuuar, and can join in a continued coherent dis-
course the several parts of a story, without bald and
unhandsome forms of transition, (as is usual,) often re-
peated ; he tjiat desires to perfect them yet farther in
this, Avhich is the first step to speaking well, and needs
no invention, may have recourse to TuUy ; and by
putting in practice those rules, which that master of
eloquence gives in his first book " De Inventione,"
§ 20. make them know wherein the skill and graces of
an handsome narrative, according to the several sub-
jects and designs of it, lie. Of each of which rules

LETTERS. '^^O

fit examples may be found out, and therein they may
be shown how othei-s have practised them. The an-
cient classic authors afford plenty of such examples,
which they should be made not only to translate, but
have set before them as patterns for their daily imita-
tion.

When they understand how to write English with
due connexion, propriety, and order, and are pretty
well masters of a tolerable narrative style, they may be
advanced to writing of letters ; wherein they should
not be put u})on any strains of wit or compliment, but
taught to express their ow^n plain easy sense, without
any incoherence, confusion or roughness. And when
they are i)erfect in this, they may, to raise their thoughts,
have set before them the example of Voiture's, for the
entertainment of their friends at a distance, with letters
of compliment, mirth, raillery, or diversion ; and Tul-
ly's epistles, as the best pattern, whether for business
or conversation. The writinor of let-

LETTERS.

ters has so much to do in all the oc-
cun-ences of human life, that no gentleman can avoid
showing himself in this kind of writing: occasions will
daily force him to make this use of his pen, which, be-
sides the consequences, that, in his affairs, his well or
ill managing of it often draws after it, always lays him
open to a severer examination of his breeding, sense,
and abilities, than oral discourses ; whose transient
faults, dying for the most part with the sound that
gives them life, and so not subject to a strict review,
more easily escape obser\'ation and censure.

Had the methods of education been directed to their
right end, one w^ould have thought this, so necessary a
part, could not have been neglected, whilst themes and
verses in Latin, of no use at all, were so constantly
every where pressed, to the racking of children's in-
ventions beyond their strength, and hindering their

230 LOCKE.

cheerful progress in learning the tongues, by unnatural
difficulties. But custom has so ordained it, and who
dares disobey ? And would it not be very unreasonable
to require of a learned country school-master, (who
has all the tropes and figures in Farnaby's rhetoric at
his finger's ends,) to teach his scholar to express him-
self handsomely in Enorlish, when it

ENGLISH. ^ , - ,. , i"^ 1 •

appears to be so little his business or
thought, that the boy's mother, (despised, it is like, as
illiterate, for not having read a system of logic and
rhetoric,) outdoes him in it?

To write and speak correctly gives a grace and gains
a favourable attention to what one has to say : and,
since it is English that an English gentleman will have
constant use of, that is the language he should chiejfly
cultivate, and wherein most care should be taken to
polish and perfect his style. To speak or write better
Latin than English may make a man be talked of; but
he would find it more to his purpose to express himself
well in his own tongue, that he uses every moment,
than to have the vain cominentlation of others for a very
insignificant quahty. This I find universally neglect-
ed, and no care taken any where to improve young
men in their own language, that the}^ may thoroughly
understand and be masters of it. If any one among us
have a facility or purity more than ordinary in his
mother-tongue, it is owing to chance, or his genius, or
any thing, rather than to his education, or any care of
his teacher. To mind what English his pupil speaks
or writes, is below the dignity of one bred up amongst
Greek and Latin, though he have but little of them
himself These are the learned languages, fit only for
learned men to meddle with and teach ; English is
the language of the illiterate vulgar ; though yet we
see the policy of some of our neighbours hath not
thought it beneath the public care to promote and re-

>-ATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 231

ward the improvement of tlieir own language. Polish-
ing and enriching their tongue is no small business
amongst them ; it hath colleges and stipends appointed
it, and there is raised amongst them a great ambition
and emulation of writing correctly : and we see what
they are come to by it, and how far they have spread
one of the worst languages, possibly in this part of the
world, if we look upon it as it was in some few reigns
backwards, whatever it be now. The great men
amongst the Romans were daily exercising themselves
in their own language ; and we find yet upon record
the names of orators, who taught some of their empe-
rors Latin, though it were their mother-tongue.

It is plain the Greeks were yet more nice in theirs ;
all other speech was barbarous to them but their own,
and no foreign language appears to have been studied
or valued amongst that learned and acute people ;
though it be past doubt, that they borrowed their
learning and philosophy from abroad.

I am not here speaking against Greek and Latin ; I
think they ought to be studied, and the Latin at least,
understood well, by every gentleman. But whatever
foreign languages a young man meddles with, (and the
more he knows, the better,) that which he should crit-
ically study and labour to get a facility, clearness, and
elegancy to express himself in, should be his own, and
to this purpose he should daily be exercised in it.

§ 184. Natural philosophy, as a speculative science,
I imagine, we have none ; and per-
haps I mav think I have reason to

^ - 1 n 1 1 1 * 1 PHILOSOPHY.

say, we never shall be able to make
a science of it. The works of nature are contrived by
a wisdom, and operate by ways, too far surpassing our
faculties to discover, or capacities to conceive, for us
ever to be able to reduce them into a science. Natu-
ral philosophy being the knowledge of the principles,

232 LOCKE.

properties, and operations of things as they are in
themselves, I imagine there are two parts of it, one
comprehending spirits, with their natm-e and quahties ;
and the other bodies. The first of these is usually re-
ferred to metaphysics : but under what title soever the
consideration of spirits comes, I think it ought to go
before the study of matter and body, not as a science
that can be methodized into a system, and treated of,
upon principles of knowledge ; but as an enlargement
of our minds towards a truer and fuller comprehension
of the intellectual world, to which we are led both by
reason and revelation. And since the clearest and
largest discoveries we have of other spirits, besides God
and our own souls, is imparted to us from heaven by
revelation, I think the information, that at least young
people should have of them should be taken from that
revelation. To this purpose, I conclude, it would be
well, if there were made a good history of the Bible
for young people to read ; wherein if every thing that
is fit to be put into it were laid down in its due order
of time, and several things omitted, which are suited
only to riper age; that confusion, which is usually pro-
duced by promiscuous reading of the Scripture, as it
lies now bound up in our Bibles, would be avoided ;
and also this other good obtained, that by reading of it
constantly, there would be instilled into the minds of
children a notion and belief of spirits, they having so
much to do, in all the transactions of that history,
which will be a good preparation to the study of bodies.
For, without the notion and allowance of spirit, our
philosophy will be lame and defective in one main part
of it, when it leaves out the contemplation of the most
excellent and powerful part of the creation.

§ 185. Of this history of the Bible, I think too it
would be well, if there were a short and plain epitome
made, containins; the chief and most material heads for

NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 233

children to be conversant in, as soon as they can read.
This, though it will lead them early into some notion
of spirits, yet is not contrary to what I said above, that
I would not have children troubled, whilst young, with
notions of spirits ; whereby my meaning was, that I
think it inconvenient, that their yet tender minds
should receive early impressions of goblins, spectres,
and apparitions, wherewith their maids, and those
about them, are apt to fright them into a compliance
of their orders, which often proves a great inconven-
ience to them all their lives after, by subjecting their
minds to frights, fearftd apprehensions, weakness, and
superstition; which, when coming abroad into the world
and conversation, they grow weary and ashamed of;
it not seldom happens, that to make, as they think, a
thorough cure, and ease themselves of a load, which
has sat so heavy on them, they throw away the thoughts
of all spirits together, and so run into the other, but
worse extreme.

§ 186. The reason why I would have this premised
to the study of bodies, and the doctrine of the Scrip-
tures well imbibed, before young men be entered in
natural philosophy, is, because matter being a thing
that all our senses are constantly conversant with, it is
so apt to possess the mind, and exclude all other beings
but matter, that prejudice, grounded on such principles,
often leaves no room for the admittance of spirits, or
the allowing any such things as immaterial beings, " in
rerum natura ;" when yet it is evident, that by mere
matter and motion, none of the great phenomena of
nature can be resolved: to instance but in that common
one of gravity, which I think impossible to be explain-
ed by any natural operation of matter, or any other law
of motion but the positive will of a superior Being so
ordering it. And therefore since the deluge cannot be
well explained, without admitting something out of the

234 LOCKE.

ordinary course of nature, I propose it to be consider-
ed, whether God's ahering the centre of gravity in the
earth for a time, (a thing as intehigible as gravity itself
which perhaps a httle variation of causes, unknown to
us, would produce,) will not more easily account for
Noah's flood, than any hypothesis yet made use of, to
solve it. I hear the great objection to this is, that it
would produce but a partial deluge. But the altera-
tion of the centre of gravity once allowed, it is no hard
matter to conceive, that the divine power might make
the centre of gravity, placed at a due distance from the
centre of the earth, move round it in a convenient
space of time ; whereby the flood would become uni-
versal, and, as I think, answer all the phenomena of
the deluge, as delivered by Moses, at an easier rate
than those many hard suppositions that are made use
of to explain it. But this is not a place for that argu-
ment, which is here only mentioned by the by, to
show the necessity of having recourse to something
beyond bare matter and its motion, in the explication
of nature ; to which the notions of spirits, and their
power as delivered in the Bible, where so much is at-
tributed to their operation, may be a fit preparative ;
reserving to a fitter opportunity a fuller explication of
this hypothesis, and the application of it to all the
parts of the deluge, and any ditficulties that can be
supposed in the history of the flood, as recorded in the
Scripture.

§ 187. But to return to the study of natural philos-
ophy : though the world be full of systems of it, yet
I cannot say, I know any one which can be taught a
young man as a science, wherein be may be sure to
find truth and certainty, which is what all sciences
give an expectation of. I do not hence conclude, that
none of them are to be read ; it is necessary for a gen-
tleman in this learned ace to look into some of them.

NATURAL. PHILOSOPHY. 235

to fit himself for conversation : but whether that of
Des Cartes be put into his hands, as that which is the
most in fashion, or it be thought fit to give him a short
view of that and several others also; I think the sys-
tems of natural philosophy that have obtained in this
part of the world, are to be read more to know the
h}-}iotheses, and to understand the terms, and ways
of talking, of the several sects, than with hopes to
gain thereby a comprehensive scientifical and satis-
factory knowledge of the works of nature : only this
may be said, that the modern corpuscularians talk, in
most things, more intelligibly than the peripatetics,
who possessed the schools immediately before them.
He that would look farther back, and acquaint himself
with the several opinions of the ancients, may consult
Dr. Cudworth's Intellectual System; wherein that
ver}' learned author hath, with such accurateness and
judgment, collected and explained the opinions of the
Greek philosophers, that what principles they built on,
and what were the chief hypotheses that divided them,
is better to be seen in him than any where else that I
know. But I would not deter any one from the study
of nature, because all the knowledge we have, or pos-
sibly can have of it, cannot be brought into a science.
There are very many things in it, that are convenient
and necessary to be known to a gentleman ; and a
great many other, that will abundantly reward the
pains of the curious with delight and advantage. But
these, I think, are rather to be found amongst such
writers, as have employed themselves in making ra-
tional experiments and observations, than in starting
barely speculative systems. Such writings, therefore,
as many of Mr. Boyle's are, with others that have writ
of husbandry, planting, gardening, and the like, may
be fit for a gentleman, when he has a little acquainted
himself with some of the systems of natural philoso-
phy in fashion.

236 LOCKE.

§ 188. Though the systems of physics that I have
met with afford httle encouragement to look for cer-
tainty, or science, in any treatise, which shall pretend
to give us a hody of natural philosophy from the first
principles of bodies in general ; yet the incomparable
Mr. Newton has shown, how far mathematics, applied
to some paits of nature, may, upon principles that
matter of fact justify, carry us in the knowledge of
some, as I may so call them, particular provinces of
the incomprehensible universe. And if others could
give us so good and clear an account of other parts of
nature, as he has of this our planetary world, and the
most considerable phenomena observable in it, in his
admirable book, " Philosophise naturalis Priucipia ma-
thematica," we might in time hope to be furnished
with more true and certain knowledge in several parts
of this stupendous machine, than hitherto we could
have expected. And though there are veiy few that
have mathematics enough to understand his demon-
strations ; yet the most accurate mathematicians, who
have examined them, allowing them to be such, his
book will deserve to be read, and give no small light
and pleasure to those, who, willing to understand the
motions, properties, and operations of the great masses
of matter in this our solar system, will but carefully
mind his conclusions, which may be depended on as
propositions well proved.

§ 189. This is, in short, Avhat I have thought con-
cerning a young gentleman's studies ;
wherein it will possibly be wondered,
that I should omit Greek, since amongst the Grecians
is to be found the original, as it were, and foundation
of all that learning which we have in this part of the
world. I grant it so ; and will add, that no man can
pass for a scholar that is ignorant of the Greek tongue.
But I am not here considering the education of a pro-
fessed scholar, but of a gentleman, to whom Latin and

GREEK. 237

French, as the world now goes, is by eveiy one ac-
knowledged to be necessary. When he comes to be a
man, if he has a mind to carry his studies farther, and
look into the Greek learning, he will then easily get
that tongue himself; and if he has not that inclination,
his learning of it under a tutor, will be but lost labour,
and much of his time and pains spent in that, which
will be neglected and thrown away as soon as he is at
liberty. For how many are there of an hundred, even
amongst scholars themselves, who retain the Greek they
carried from school ; or ever improve it to a familiar
reading, and perfect understanding of Greek authors ?

To conclude this pait, which concerns a young gen-
tleman's studies ; his tutor should remember, that his
business is not so much to teach him all that is know-
able, as to raise in him a love and esteem of know-
ledge ; and to put him in the right way of knowing
and improving himself, when he has a mind to it.

The thoughts of a judicious author on the subject
of languages, I shall here give the reader, as near as
I can, in his own way of expressing them. He says
* " One can scarce burden children too much with the
knowledge of languages. They are useful to men of
all conditions, and they equally open them the en-
trance, either to the most profound, or the more easy
and entertaining parts of learning. If this irksome
study be put off to a little more advanced age, young
men either have not resolution enough to apply to it
out of choice, or steadiness to carry it on. And if any
one has the gift of perseverance, it i& not without the
inconvenience of spending that time upon languages,
which is destined to other uses : and he contines to
the study of words that age of his life that is above it,
and requires things ; at least, it is the losing the best

" La Bruyere Moeurs de ce Siecle, p. 577, CC2.

238 LOCKE.

and beautifulest season of one's life. This large foun-
dation of languages cannot be well laid, but when
eveiy thing makes an easy and deep impression on the
mind ; when the memory is fresh, ready, and tena-
cious ; when the head and heart are as yet free from
cares, passions, and designs ; and those, on whom the
child depends, have autliority enough to keep him
close to a long-continued application. I am persuad-
ed, that the small number of truly learned, and the
multitude of superficial pretenders, is owing to the
neglect of this."

I think every body will agree with this obsei-ving
gentleman, that languages are the proper study of our
first years. But it is to be considered by the parents
and tutors, what tongues it is fit the child should learn.
For it must be confessed, that it is fruitless pains, and
loss of time, to learn a language, which, in the course
of life that he is designed to, he is never like to make
use of: or W'hich one may guess by his temper, he will
wholly neglect and lose again, as soon as an approach
to manhood, setting him free from a governor, shall
put him into the hands of his own inclination ; which
is not likely to allot any of his time to the cultivating
the learned tongues ; or dispose him to mind any
other language, but what daily use, or some particular
necessity, shall force upon him.

But yet, for the sake of those who are designed to
be scholars, I will add what the same author subjoins,
to make good his foregoing remark. It will deserve
to be considered by all who desire to be ti-uly learned,
and therefore may be a fit rule for tutors to inculcate,
and leave with their pupils, to guide their future
studies :

«'The study," says he, "of the original text can
never be sufficienth- recommended. It is the shortest,
surest, and most agreeable way to all sorts of learning.

GREEK. 239

Draw from the spring-head, and take not thhigs at
second-hand. Let the writings of the great masters
be never laid aside ; dwell upon them, settle them in
your mind, and cite them upon occasion ; make it your
business thoroughly to understand them in their full
extent, and all their circumstances : acquaint yourself
fully with the principles of original authors ; bring
them to a consistency, and then do you yourself make
your deductions. In this state were the first commen-
tators, and do not you rest till you bring yourself to
the same. Content not yourself with those borrowed
lights, nor guide yourself by their views, but where
your own fails you, and leaves you in the dark. Their
explications are not yours, and will give you the slip.
On the contrary, your own obsenations are the pro-
duct of your own mind, where they will abide, and be
ready at hand upon all occasions in converse, consul-
tation, and dispute. Lose not the pleasure it is to see
that you were not stopped in your reading, but by dif-
ficulties that are invincible ; where the commentators
and schohasts themselves are at a stand, and have
nothing to say ; those copious expositors of other
places, who, with a vain and pompous overflow of
learning, poured out on passages plain and easy in
themselves, are very free of their words and pains,
where there is no need. Convince yourself fully by
thus ordering your studies, that it is nothing but men's
laziness, which hath encouraged pedantry to cram,
rather than enrich libraries, and to bury good authors
under heaps of notes and commentaries ; and you will
perceive, that sloth herein hath acted against itself, and
its own interest, by multiplying reading and inquiries,
and increasing the pains it endeavoured to avoid."

This, though it may seem to concern none but direct
scholars, is of so great moment for the right ordering
of their education and studies, that I hope I shall not

240

be blamed for inserting of it here, especially if it be con-
sidered, that it may be of use to gentlemen too, when
at any time they have a mind to go deeper than the
surface, and get to themselves a solid, satisfactory, and
masterly insight in any part of learning.

Order and constancy are said to make the great
difference between one man and an-

METHOD. *i *i • T .1 •

other ; this, 1 am sure, nothmg so
much clears a learner's w^ay, helps him so much on in
it, and makes him go so easy and so far in any inquir}',
as a good method. His governor should take pains to
make him sensible of this, accustom him to order, and
teach him method in all the applications of his thoughts ;
show him w^herein it lies, and the advantages of it ;
acquaint him with the several sorts of it, either from
general to particulars, or from particulars to what is
more general ; exercise him in both of them ; and
make him see in what cases each different method is
most proper, and to what ends it best serves.

In history the order of time should govern ; in phi-
losophical inquiries, that of nature, which in all pro-
gression is to go from the place one is then in, to that
which joins and lies next to it ; and so it is in the
mind, from the knowledge it stands possessed of al-
ready, to that which lies next, and is coherent to it ;
and so on to what it aims at, by the simplest and most
uncompounded parts it can divide the matter into. To
this purpose, it will be of great use to his pupil to ac-
custom him to distinguish well, that is, to have distinct
notions, wherever the mind can find any real differ-
ence ; but as carefully to avoid distinctions in terms,
where he has not distinct and different clear ideas.

§ 190. Besides what is to be had from study and
books, there are other accomplishments necessary for
a gentleman, to be got by exercise, and to which time
is to be allowed, and for which masters must be had.

MUSIC. 241

Dancing being that which gives graceful motions all
t)ie life, and above all things, manli-
ness and a becoming conhdence to
young children, I think it cannot be learned too early,
after they are once of an age and strength capable of
it. But you must be sure to have a good master, that
knows, and can teach what is graceful and becoming,
and what gives a freedom and easiness to all the mo-
tions of the body. One that teaches not this, is worse
than none at all ; natural unfashionableness being
much better than apish, affected postures ; and I think
it much more passable to put off the hat, and make a
leg, like an honest country gentleman, than like an ill-
fashioned dancing-master. For, as for the jigging
part, and the figures of dances, I count that little or
nothing, forther than as it tends to perfect gracelul
carriage.

§ 191. Music is thought to have some affinity with
dancing, and a good hand, upon
some instruments, is by many people
mightily valued. But it wastes so much of a young
man's time, to gain but a moderate skill in it, and en-
gages often in such odd company, that many think it
much better spared : and I have, amongst men of
parts and business, so seldom heard any one commen-
ded or esteemed for having an excellency in music,
that amongst all those things, that ever came into the
list of accomplishments, I think I may give it tlie last
place. Our short lives will not serve us for the attain-
ment of all things ; nor can our minds be always in-
tent on something to be learned. The weakness of
our constitutions, both of mind and body, recpiires that
we should be often mibent : and he that will make a
good use of any part of his life, must allow a large
portion of it to recreation. At least this must not i)e
denied to voung people, unless, wjiilst vou with too

a

242 LOCKE.

much haste make them old, you have the displeasure
to set them in their graves, or a second childhood,
sooner than you could wish. And therefore I think,
that the time and pains allotted to serious improve-
ments should be employed about things of most use
and consequence, and that too in the methods the
most easy and short that could be at any rate obtained ;
and perhaps, as I have above said, it would be none of
the least secrets of education, to make the exercises in
the body and the mind the recreation one to another.
I doubt not but that something might be done in it, by
a prudent man, that would well consider the temper
and inclination of his pupil. For he that is wearied,
either with study or dancing, does not desire presently
to go to slee|) ; but to do something else which may
divert and dehght him. But this must be always re-
membered, that nothing can come into the account of
recreation that is not done with dehght.

§192. Fencing and riding the great horse, are
looked upon as so necessary parts of breeding, that it
would be thought a great omission to neglect them:
the latter of the two being for the most part to be
learned only in great towns, is one of the best exercises
for health which is to be had in those places of ease
and luxury ; and, upon that account, makes a fit part
of a young gentleman's employment, during his abode
there. And, as far as it conduces to give a man a firm
and graceful seat on horseback, and to make him able
to teach his horse to stop, and turn quick, and to rest
on his haunches, is of use to a gentleman, both in
peace and war. But whether it be of moment enough
to be made a business of, and deserve to take up more
of his time than should barely for his health be em-
ployed, at due intervals, in some such vigorous exer-
cise, I shall leave to the discretion of parents and
tutors ; who will do well to remember, in all the parts

FEXCIXG. 243

of education, that most time and application is to be
bestowed on that which is like to be of greatest con-
sequence, and frequentest use, in the ordinary course
and occurrences of that life the young man is designed
for.

§ 193. As for fencing, it seems to me a good exercise
for health, but dangerous to the life,
tlie confidence of their skill being - - .

apt to engage in quarrels those that think they have
learned to use their swords. This presumption makes
them often more touchy than needs, on points of hon-
our, and slight or no provocations. Young men in
their warm blood are forward to think they have in
vain learned to fence, if they never show their skill
and courage in a duel ; and they seem to have reason.
But how many sad tragedies that reason has been the
occasion of, the tears of many a mother can witness.
A man that cannot fence will be nwre careful to keep
out of bullies' and gamesters' company, and will not be
half so apt to stand upon punctilios, nor to give af-
fronts, or fiercely justify them when given, which is
that which usually makes the quarrel. And when a
man is in the field, a moderate skill in fencing rather
exposes him to the sword of his enemy, than secures
him from it. And certainly a man of courage who
cannot fence at all, and therefore will put all upon one
thrust, and not stand parrying, has the odds against a
moderate fencer, especially if he has skill in wrestling.
And therefore, if any provision be to be made against
such accidents, and a man be to prepare his son for
duels, I had much rather mine should be a good wres-
tler than an ordinary- fencer ; which is the most a
gentleman can attain to in it, unless he will i^e con-
stantly in the fencing school, and e\erx day exercising.
But since fencing and riding the great horse are so
generally looked upon as necessary qualifications in
q2

244 LOCKE.

the breeding of a gentleman, it will be hard wholly to
deny any one of that rank these marks of distinction.
I shall leave it therefore to the father, to consider, how
far the temper of his son, and the station he is like to
be in, will allow or encourage him to comply with
fashions, which, having very little to do with civil life,
were yet formerly unknown to the most warlike na-
tions ; and seem to have added little of force or cour-
age to those who have received them : unless we will
think martial skill or prowess have been improved by
duelling, with which fencing came into, and with
which, I presume, it will go out of the world.

§ 194. These are my present thoughts concerning
learning and accomplishments. The great business of
all is virtue and wisdom.

'• Nullum numen abest, si sit prudentia.*'

Teach him to get a mastery over his inclinations, and
submit his appetite to reason. This being obtained,
and by a constant practice settled into habit, the hardest
part of the task is over. To bring a young man to
this, I know nothing which so much contributes, as
the love of praise and commendation, which should
therefore be instilled into him by all arts imaginable.
Make his mind as sensible of credit and shame as may
be : and when you have done that, you have put a
principle into him, which will influence bis actions,
when you are not by ; to which the fear of a little
smart of a rod is not comparable ; and which will be
the proper stock whereon afterwards to graft the true
principles of morality and religion.

§ 195. I have one thing more to add, which as soon
as I mention, I shall run the danger

MANUAL TRADE. c i • . i . ^ c ^

of bemg suspected to have forgot
what I am about, and what I have above written con-
cerning education, all tending towards a gentleman's

MA>^UAL TRADE. 245

calling, with which a trade seems wholly to be incon-
sistent. And yet, I cannot forbear to say, I would
have him learn a trade, a manual trade; nay, two or
three, but one more particularly.

§ 196. The busy inclination of children being always
to be directed to something that may be useful to them,
the advantages proposed from what they are set about
may be considered of two kinds ; 1. Where the skill
itself, that is got by exercise, is worth the having.
Thus skill not only in languages, and learned sciences,
but in painting, turning, gardening, tempering, and
working in iron, and all other useful arts, is worth the
having. 2. Where the exercise itself, without any con-
sideration, is necessary or useful for health. Know-
ledge in some things is so necessary to be got by chil-
dren, whilst they are young, that some part of their
time is to be allotted to their improvement in them,
though those employments contribute nothing at all to
their health : such are reading, and writing, and all
other sedentary studies, for the cultivating of the mind,
which unavoidably take up a great part of gentlemen's
time, quite from their cradles. Other manual arts,
which are both got and exercised by labour, do many
of them by that exercise, not only increase our dexter-
ity and skill, but contribute to our health loo ; espe-
cially such as employ us in the open air. In these,
then, health and improvement may be joined togeth-
er; and of these should some fit ones be chosen, to be
made the recreations of one, whose chief business is
with books and study. In this choice the age and in-
clination of the person is to be considered, and con-
straint always to be avoided in bringing him to it. For
command and force may often create, but can never
cure an aversion ; and whatever any one is brought to
by compulsion, he will leave as soon as he can, and be
Httle profited and less recreated by, whilst he is at it.

246

§ 197. That which of all others would please me

best would be a i)aiiiter, were there
rAi>Ti>-G. ^ . ^ .

not an argument or two agamst it not

easy to be answered. First, ill painting is one of the
worst things in the world ; and to attain a tolerable
degree of skill in it requires too much of a man's time.
If he has a natural inclination to it, it will endanger the
neglect of all other more useful studies, to give way ta
that ; and if he have no inchnation to it, all the time,
pains, and money shall be employed in it, will be thrown
away to no purpose. Another reason why I am not
for painting in a gentleman, is because it is a sedentary
recreation, wdiich more employs the mind than the
body. A gentleman's more serious employment, I
look on to be study ; and when that demands relaxa-
tion and refreshment, it should be in some exercise of
the body, which unbends the thought and confirms the
health and strength. For these two reasons I am not
for painting.

§ 198. In the next place, for a country gentleman, I
should propose one, or rather both

GARDENING. , \ * , .' 1 1 J

these ; viz. gardening or husbandry
in general, and working in wood, as a carpenter, join-
er, or turner : these being fit and

JOINERY. Ill • /> c

healthy recreations for a man oi
study or business. For since the mind endures not to
be constantly employed in the same thing or way ; and
sedentary or studious men should have some exercise,
that at the same time might divert their minds, and
employ their bodies ; I know none that could do it
better for a country gentleman than these two, the one
of them affording him exercise, when the weather or
season keeps him from the other. Besides that, by
being skilled in the one of them, he will be able to gov-
ern and teach his gardener; by the other, contrive and
make a great many things both of delight and use :

RECREATION. 247

though these I propose not as the chief ends of his
labour, but as temptations to it ; diversion from his
other more serious thoughts and employments, by use-
ful and healthy manual exercise, being what I chiefly
aim at in it.

§ ]99. The gi-eat men among the ancients under-
stood very well how to reconcile manual lal)our with
affairs of state, and thought it no lessening to their dig-
nity to make the one the recreation to the other. That
indeed which seems most generally to have employed
and diverted their spare hours was agriculture. Gid-
eon amongst the Jews was taken from threshing, as
well as Cincinnatus amongst the Romans from the
plough, to command the armies of their countries
against their enemies ; and it is plain their dexterous
handhng of the flail, or the plough, and being good
workmen with these tools, did not hinder their skill in
arms, nor make them less able in the arts of war or
government. They were great captains and statesmen
as well as husbandmen. Cato major, who had with
great reputation borne all the great oiBces of the com-
monwealth, has left us an evidence under his own hand
how much he was versed in country affairs ; and, as I
remember, Cyrus thought gardening so little beneath
the dignity and grandeur of a throne, that he showed
Xenophon a large field of fruit-trees, all of his own
planting. The records of antiquity, both amongst Jews
and Gentiles, are full of instances of this kind, if it
were necessary to recommend useful recreations by-
examples.

§ 200. Nor let it be thought, that I mistake, when I
call these or the like exercises of man-

^. . . ^ RECREATION.

ual arts, diversions or recreations ; tor
recreation is not being idle, (as every one may observe,)
but easing the wearied part by change of business : and
he that thinks diversion may not lie in hard and pain-

248

ful labour, forgets the early rising, hard liding, heat,
cold and hunger of huntsmen, which is yet known to be
the constant recreation of men of the greatest condition.
Delving, planting, inoculating, or any the like profitable
employments, would be no less a diversion, than any of
the idle sports in fashion, if men could but be brought
to delight in them, which custom and skill in a trade
will quickly bring any one to do. And I doubt not
but there are to be found those, who, being frequently
called to cards, or any other play, by those they could
not refuse, have been more tired with these recreations
than with any of the most serious employment of life :
though the play has been such as they have naturally-
had no aversion to, and with which they could will-
ingly sometimes divert themselves.

§ 201. Play, wherein persons of condition, especially
ladies, waste so much of their time, is a plain instance
to me, that men cannot be perfectly idle ; they must
be doing something. For how else could they sit so
many hours toiling at that, which generally gives more
vexation than delight to people whilst they are actually
engaged in it .- It is certain, gaming leaves no satis-
faction behind it to those who reflect when it is over ;
and it no way profits either body or mind : as to their
estates, if it strike so deep as to concera them, it is a
trade then, and not a recreation, wherein few, that have
any thing else to live on, thrive ; and, at best, a thriv-
ing gamester has but a poor trade on it, who fills his
pockets at the price of his reputation.

Recreation belongs not to people who are strangers
to business, and are not wasted and wearied with the
employment of their calling. The skill should be, so
to order their time of recreation, that it may relax and
refresh the part that has been exercised, and is tired ;
and yet do something, which, besides the ])resent de-
light and ease, may produce what will afterwards be

RECREATION. 249

profitable. It has been nothing but the vanity and
pride of greatness and riches, that has brought unprofit-
able and dangerous pastimes, (as they are called,) into
fashion, and persuaded people into a belief, that the
learning or putting their hands to any thing that was
useful could not be a diversion fit for a gentleman.
This has been that which has given cards, dice, and
drinking, so much credit in the world ; and a great
many throw away their spare hours in them, through
the prevalency of custom, and want of some better em-
ployment to fill up the vacancy of leisure, more than
from any real delight is to be found in them. They
cannot bear the dead weight of unemployed time, lying
upon their hands, nor the uneasiness it is to do noth-
ing at all ; and having never learned any laudable
manual art, wherewith to divert themselves, they have
recourse to those foolish or ill ways in use, to help off
their time which a rational man, till cori"upted by cus-
tom, could find very little pleasure in.

§ 202. I say not tliis, that T would never have a
young gentleman accommodate himself to the inno-
cent diversions in fashion, amongst those of his age and
condition. I am so far from having him austere and
morose to that degree that I would persuade him to
more than ordinaiy complaisance for all the gaieties and
diversions of those he converses with, and be averse or
testy in nothing they should desire of him, that might
become a gentleman and an honest man : though as to
cards and dice, I think the safest and best way is never
to learn any play upon them, and so to be incapacitat-
ed for those dangerous temptations, and incroaching
wasters of useful time. But allowance being made for
idle and jovial conversation, and all fashionable be-
coming recreations ; I say, a young man will have time
enough from his serious and main business, to learn
almost any trade. It is for want of apphcation, and

250 LOCKE.

not of leisure, that men are not skilful in more arts than
one: and an hour in a dav constant-
ly employed in such a way of diver-
sion, will carry a man in a short time a great deal far-
ther than he can imagine : which, if it were of no other
use but to drive the common, vicious, useless, and dan-
gerous pastimes out of fashion, and to show there was
no need of them, would deserve to be encouraged. If
men from their youth were weaned from that saunter-
ing humour, wherein some, out of custom, let a good
part of their lives run uselessly away, without either
business or recreation ; they would find time enough
to acquire dexterity and skill in hundreds of things,
which, though remote from their proper callings, would
not at all interfere with them. And therefore, I think,
for this, as well as other reasons before mentioned, a
lazy, listless humour, that idly dreams away the days,
is of all others the least to be indulged, or permitted in
young people. It is the proper slate of one sick, and
out of order in his health, and is tolerable in nobody
else, of what age or condition soever.

§ 203. To the arts above mentioned may be added
perfuming, varnishing, graving, and several sorts of
working in iron, brass, and silver: and if, as it happens
to most young gentlemen, that a considerable part of
his time be spent in a great town, he may learn to cut,
polish, and set precious stones, or employ himself in
grinding and polishing optical glasses. Amongst the
great variety there is of ingenious manual arts, it will
be im|jossible that no one should be found to please
and delight him, unless he be either idle or debauched,
which is not to be supposed in a right way of educa-
tion. And since he cannot be always employed in
study, reading and conversation, there will be many an
hour, besides what his exercises will take up, which,
if not spent this way, will be spent worse. For I con-

merchants' accounts. 251

elude, a young man will seldom desire to sit perfectly
still and idle ; or if he does, it is a fault that ought to
be mended.

§ 204. But if his mistaken parents, frightened with
the disgraceful names of mechanic and trade, shall have
an aversion to an}' thing of this kind in their children ;
yet there is one thing relating to trade, which, when
they consider, they will think absolutely necessary for
their sons to learn.

Merchants' accounts, though a science not likely to
help a srentleman to get an estate, ,

^ Ml, . , • r> merchants'

yet possibly there is not any thins of
more use and efficacy to make him
preserve the estate he has. It is seldom observed, that
he who keeps an account of his income and expenses,
and thereby has constantly under view the course of
his domestic affairs, lets them run to ruin ; and I doubt
not but many a man gets behind-hand, before he is
aware, or runs further on, when he is once in, for want
of this care, or the skill to do it. I would therefore
advise all gentlemen to learn perfectly merchants' ac-
counts, and not to think it is a skill that belongs not to
them, because it has received its name from, and has
been chiefly practised by, men of traffic.

§ 20.5. When my young master has once got the
skill of keeping accounts, (which is a business of
reason more than arithmetic,) perhaps it will not be
amiss, that his father from thenceforth require him to
do it in all his concernments. Not that I would have
him set down even,' pint of wine, or play, that costs
him money ; the general name of expenses will serve
for such things well enough : nor would I have his
father look so narrowly into these accounts, as to take
occasion from thence to criticise on his expenses. He
must remember, that he himself was once a young
man, and not forget the thoughts he had then, nor the

252 LOCKE.

right his sen has to have the same, and to have ahow-
ance made for them. If, therefore, I would have the
young gentleman obliged to keep an account, it is not
at all to have that way a check upon his expenses,
(for what the father allows him, he ought to let him be
fully master of,) but only, that he might be brought
early into the custom of doing it, and that it might be
made familiar and habitual to him betimes, which will
be so useful and necessaiy to be constantly practised
through the whole course of his life. A noble Vene-
tian, whose son wallowed in the plent}^ of his father's
riches, finding his son's expenses grow very high and
extravagant, ordered his cashier to let him have, for the
future, no more money than what he should count
when he received it. This one would think no great
restraint to a young gentleman's expenses, who could
freely have as much money as he would tell. But
yet this, to one, who was used to nothing but the pur-
suit of his pleasures, proved a very great trouble, which
at last ended in this sober and advantageous reflection:
" If it be so much pains to me, barely to count the
money I would spend ; what labour and pains did it
cost my ancestors, not only to count, but get it r"
This rational thought, suggested by this little pains im-
posed upon him, wrought so eflTectually upon his mind,
that it made him take up, and from that time forwards
prove a good husband. This at least eveiy body must
allow, that nothing is likelier to keep a man within
compass, than the having constantly before his eyes
the state of his affairs, in a regular course of account.
§ 206. The last part, usually, in education, is travel,
which is commonly thought to finish
the work, and complete the gentle-
man. I confess, travel into foreign countries has great
advantages ; but the time usually chosen to send
young men abroad, is, I think, of all other, that which

253

renders them least capable of reaping those advantages.
Those which are proposed, as to the main of them,
may be reduced to these two : first, language ; sec-
ondly, an improvement in wisdom and prudence, by
seeing men, and conversing with people of tempers,
customs, and ways of hving, different from one an-
other, and especially from those of his parish or neigh-
bourhood. But from sixteen to one-and-twenty, which
is the ordinary time of travel, men are, of all their
lives, the least suited to these improvements. The first
season to get foreign languages, and form the tongue
to their true accents, I should think, should be from
seven to fourteen or sixteen ; and then, too, a tutor
with them is useful and necessary, who may, with
those languages, teach them other things. But to put
them out of their parent's view, at a great distance,
under a governor, when they think themselves too
much men to be governed by others, and yet have not
prudence and experience enough to govern them-
selves : what is it but to expose them to all the great-
est dangers of their whole life, when they have the
least fence and guard against them ? Till that boiling
boisterous part of life comes on, it may be hoped the
tutor may have some authority ; neither the stubborn-
ness of age, nor the temptation or examples of others,
can take him from his tutor's conduct, till fifteen or
sixteen: but then, when he begins to consort himself
with men, and thinks himself one ; when he comes to
relish, and pride himself in, manly vices, and thinks it
a shame to be any longer under the control and con-
duct of another : what can be hoped from even the
most careful and discreet governor, when neither he
has power to compel, nor his pupil a disposition to be
persuaded; but, on the contrary, hs« the advice of
warm blood, and prevailing fashion, to hearken to the
temptations of his companions, just as wise as himself,

254 LOCKE.

rather than to the persuasions of his tutor, who is now
looked on as the enemy to his freedom ? And when
is a man so hke to miscarry, as when at the same time
he is hoth raw and unruly ? This is the season of all
his life that most requires the eye and authority of his
parents and friends, to govern it. The flexibleness of
the former part of a man's age, not yet grown up to be
headstrong, makes it more governable and safe ; and,
in the after-part, reason and foresight begin a little to
take place, and mind a man of his safety and improve-
ment. The time, therefore, I should think the fittest
for a 5'oung gentlemen to be sent abroad, would be,
either when he is younger, under a tutor, whom he
might be the better for ; or when he is some years
older, without a governor ; w^hen he is of age to gov-
ern himself, and make observations of what he finds in
other countries worthy his notice, and that might be of
use to him after his return : and when too, being
thoroughly acquainted with the laws and fashions, the
natural and moral advantages and defects of his own
country, he has something to exchange with -those
abroad, from whose conversation he hoped to reap any
knowledge.

§ 207. The ordering of travel otherwise, is that, I
imagine, which makes so many young gentlemen come
back so little improved by it. And if they do bring
home with them any knowledge of the places and
people they have seen, it is often an admiration of the
worst and vainest practices they met with abroad ; re-
taining a rehsh and memory of those things, wherein
their liberty took its first swing, rather than of what
should make them better and wiser after their return.
And, indeed, hov/ can it be otherwise, going abroad at
the age they da/ under the care of another, w'ho is to
provide their necessaries, and make their observa-
tions for them? Thus under the shelter and pretence

TRAVEL. 'Zoo

of a governor, thinking themselves excused from stand-
ing upon their own legs, or being accountable for their
own conduct, they very seldom trouble themselves
with inquiries, or making useful observations of their
own. Their thoughts run after play and pleasure,
wherein they take it as a lessening to be controlled:
but seldom trouble themselves to examine the designs,
observe the address, and consider the arts, tempers,
and inclinations of men they meet with ; that so they
may know how to comport themselves towards them.
Here he that travels with them, is to skreen them, get
tliem out, when they have run themselves into the bri-
ars ; and in all their miscarriages be answerable for
them.

§ 208. I confess, the knowledge of men is so great a
skill, that it is not to be expected a young man should
presently be perfect in it. But yet his going abroad is
to little purpose, if travel does not sometimes open his
eyes, make him cautious and wary, and accustom him
to look beyond the outside, and, under the inoffensive
guard of a civil and obliging carriage, keep himself
free and safe in his conversation w4th strangers, and
all sorts of people, without forteiting their good opin-
ion. He that is sent out to travel at the age, and with
the thoughts, of a man designing to improve himself,
may get into the convei-sation and acquaintance of per-
sons of condition where he comes : which, though a
thing of most advantage to a gentleman that travels,
yet, I ask, amongst our young men that go abroad
under tutors, what one is there of a hundred that ever
visits any person of quality? much less makes an ac-
quaintance with such, from whose conversation he
may learn what is good-breeding in that country, and
wiiat is worth observation in it ; though from such
persons it is, one may learn more in one day than in a
year's rambling from one inn to another. Nor indeed

256 LOCKE.

is it to be wondered ; for men of worth and pans will
not easily admit the familiarity of boys, who yet need
the care of a tutor; though a young gentleman and
stranger, appearing like a man, and showing a desire
to inform himself in the customs, manners, laws, and
government of the countiy he is in, will find welcome
assistance and entertainment amongst the best and mosT:
knowing persons ever\' where, who will be ready to
receive, encourage, and countenance any ingenious
and inquisitive foreigner.

§ 209. This, how true soever it be, will not, I fear,
alter the custom, which has cast the time of travel
upon the worst part of a man's life ; but for reasons
not taken from their improvement. The young lad
must not be ventured abroad at eight or ten, for fear
of what may happen to the tender child, though he
tlien runs ten times less risk than at sixteen or eighteen.
Nor must he stay at home till that dangerous heady
age be over, because he must be back again by one-
and-twenty, to marry and propagate. The father can-
not stay any longer for the portion, nor the mother for
a new set of babies to play with : and so my young
master, whatever comes on it, must have a wife looked
out for him, by that time he is of age ; though it would
be no prejudice to his strength, his parts, or his issue,
if it were respited for some time, and he had leave to
get, in years and knowledge, the start a little of his
children, who are often found to tread too near upon
the heels of their fathers, to the no great satisfaction
either of son or father. But the young gentleman be-
ing got within view of matrimony, it is time to leave
him to his mistress.

§ 210. Though I am now come to a conclusion of

what obvious remarks have suffffested

to me concerning education, I would

not have it thought that I look on it as a just treatise

co>'CLUsio>\ 257

on this subject. There are a thousand other tilings
that may need consideration ; especially if one should
take in the various tempers, different inclinations, and
particular defaults, that are to be found in children ;
and prescribe proper remedies. The variety is so
great, that it would require a volume ; nor would that
reach it. Each man's mind has some peculiarity, as
well as his face, that distinguishes him from all others;
and there are possibly scarce two children, who can
be conducted by exactly the same method. Besides
that, I think a prince, a nobleman, and an ordinary
gentleman's son, should have different ways of breed-
ing. But having had here only some general views,
in reference to the main end and aims in education,
and those designed for a gentleman's son, whom, be-
ing then very little, I considered only as white paper,
or wax, to be moulded and fashioned as one pleases ;
I have touched little more than those heads, which I
judged necessary for the breeding of a young gentle-
man of his condition in general ; and have now pub-
lished these my occasional thoughts, with this hope,
that, though this be far from being a complete treatise
on this subject, or such as that every one may find
•what will just fit his child in it ; yet it may give some
small light to those, whose concern for their dear little
ones makes them so irregularly bold, that they dare
venture to consult their own reason in the education
of their children, rather than wholly to rely upon old
custom.

R

TP..EATISE OF EDUCATION

BY JOHN MILTON

LIFE OF JOHN MILTON.

[by ELIJAH FENTOX.]

From a family and town of his name in Oxford-
shire, our author derived his descent ; but he was born
at London, in the year 1608. His father, John Mil-
ton, by profession a scrivener, lived in a reputable
manner on a competent estate, entirely his own acqui-
sition, having been early disinherited by his parents for
renouncing the communion of the church of Rome, to
which they were zealously devoted.

Our author was the favourite of his father's hopes,
who, to cultivate the great genius w^hich early display-
ed itself, was at the expense of a domestic tutor ; whose
care and capacity his pupil hath gratefully celebrated
in an excellent Latin e\egy. At his initiation he is
said to have applied himself to letters with such inde-
fatigable industry, that he rarely was prevailed upon to
quit his studies before midnight : which not only made
bim frequently subject to severe pains in his head, but
likewise occasioned that weakness in his eyes, which
terminated in a total privation of sight. From a do-
mestic education he was removed to St. Paul's School,
to complete his acquaintance with the classics, under
the care of Dr. Gill ; and after a short stay there, was
transplanted to Christ College in Cambridge, where he
distinguished himself in all kinds of academical exer-
cises. Of this society he continued a member till he
commenced blaster of Arts : and then, leaving the uni-
versity, he returned to his father, who had quitted the

262 LIFE OF MILTOX.

town and lived at Horton in Buckinghamshire, where
he pursued his studies with unparalleled assiduity and
success.

After some years spent in this studious retirement,
his mother died, and then he prevailed with his father
to gratify an inclination he had long entertained of-
seeing foreign countries. Sir Henry Wotton, at that
time provost of Eton College, gave him a letter of ad-
vice for the direction of his travels. Having employed
his curiosity about two years in France and Italy, on
the news of a civil war breaking out in England, he
returned, without taking a survey of Greece and Sicily,
as at his setting out the scheme was projected. At
Paris the Lord Viscount Scudamore, ambassador from
king Charles I. at the court of France, introduced
him to the acquaintance of Grotius, who at that time
was honoured with the same character there by Chris-
tiana, Queen of Sweden. In Rome, Genoa, Florence,
and other cities of Italy, he contracted a familiarity
with those who were of highest reputation for wit and
learning, several of whom gave him very obliging tes-
timonies of their friendship and esteem.

Returning from his travels, he found England on the
point of being involved in blood and confusion. He
retired to lodgings provided for him in the city : which
being commodious for the reception of his sister's sons,
and some other young gentlemen, he undertook their
education.

In this philosophical course he continued, w^ithout a
wife, till the year 1643, when he married Mary, the
daughter of Richard Powel, of Forest-hill in Oxford-
shire, a gentleman of estate and reputation in that
county, and of principles so very opposite to his son-
in-law, that the marriage is more to be wondered at,
than the separation which ensued, in little more than
a month after she had cohabited with him in London.

LIFE OF MILTO-V. 263

Her desertion provoked him both to write several trea-
tises concerning the doctrine and discipline of divorce,
and also to pay bis addresses to a young lady of great
wit and beauty ; but before he had engaged her affec-
tions to conclude the marriage treaty, in a visit at one
of his relations, he found his wife prostrate before
him, imploring forgiveness and reconciliation. It is
not to be doubted but an interview of that nature, so
little expected, must wonderfully affect him ; and per-
haps the impressions it made on his imagination, con-
tributed much to the painting of that pathetic scene in
Paradise Lost,* in which Eve addresseth herself to
Adam for pardon and peace. At the intercession of
his friends, who were present, after a short reluctance,
he generously sacrificed all his resentment to her tears.
" Soon his heart relented

Towards her, his life so late and sole delight,
Now at his feet submissive in distress. ■'

And after this re-union, so far was he from retaining
any unkind memoiy of the provocations which he had
received from her ill conduct, that when the king's
cause was entirely supj)ressed, and her father who had
been active in his loyalty, was exposed to sequestra-
tions, Milton received both him and his family to pro-
tection, and free entertainment, in his own house, till
their affairs were accommodated by his interest in the
victorious faction.

A commission to constitute him x\djutant General
to sir William Waller, was promised, but soon super-
seded, by Waller's being laid aside, when his masters
thought it proper to new-model their army. However,
the keenness of his pen had so effectually recom-
mended him to Cromwell's esteem, that when he took
the reins of government into his own hand, he ad-

^BookX.

264 LIFE OF MILTON.

vanced him to be Latin Secretary, both to himseh^and
the Parhament : the former of these preferments he
enjoyed both under the usurper and his son, the other
until king Charles II, was restored. For some time
he had an apartment for his family at Whitehall : but
his health requiring a freer accession of air, he was
obliged to remove thence to lodgings which opened
into St. James' Park. Not long after his settlement
there his wife died in child-bed, and much about the
time of her death, a gutta serena, which had for
several years been gi-adually increasing, totally extin-
guished his sight. In this melancholy condition, he
was easily prevailed with to think of taking another
wife, who was Catharine, the daughter of captain
Woodcock, of Hackney ; and she too, in less than a
year after their marriage, died in the same unfortunate
manner as the former had done ; and in his twenty-third
sonnet he does honour to her memoiy.

Being a second time a widower, he employed his
friend Dr. Paget to make choice of a third consort,
on -s^hose recommendation he married Elizabeth, the
daughter of 3Ir. Minshul, a Cheshire gentleman, by
whom he had no issue. Three daughters, by his first
wife, were then living ; the two elder of whom are
said to have been very serviceable to him in his stud-
ies; for having been instructed to pronounce not only
the modern, but also the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew
languages, they read in their respective originals, what-
ever authors he wanted to consult, though they under-
stood none but their mother-tongue.

AVe come now to take a suney of him in that point
of view, in which he will be looked upon by all suc-
ceeding ages with ecpjal delight and admiration. An
interval of about twenty years had elapsed since he
wrote the Mask of Comus, L'Allegro, II Penseroso,
and Lycidas, all in such an exquisite strain, that,

LIFE OF MILTON. 265

though he had left no other monuments of his genius
behind him, his name had been immortal ; but nei-
ther the infirmities of age and constitution, nor the
vicissitudes of fortune, could depress the vigour of his
mind, or divert it from executing a design he had long
conceived of writing an heroic poem.^ The fall of
man was a subject that he had some years before fixed
on for a tragedy, which he intended to form by the
models of antiquity ; and some, not without probabil-
ity, say, the play opened with that speech in the fourth
book of Paradise Lost, line 32, which is addressed by
Satan to the sun. Were it material, I believe I could
produce other passages, which more plainly appear to
have been originally intended for the scene: but what-
ever truth there may be in this report, it is certain that
he did not begin to mould his subject, in the form
which it bears now, before he had concluded his con-
troversy with Salmasius and More, when he had whol-
ly lost the use of his eyes, and was forced to employ,
in the ofiice of an amanuensis, any friend who acci-
dentally paid him a visit. Yet, under all these dis-
couragements and various interruptions, in the year
1669 he published his Paradise Lost, the noblest poem,
(next to those of Homer and Virgil,) that ever the wit
of man produced in any age or nation. Need I mention
any other evidence of its inestimable worth, than that
the finest geniuses who have succeeded him have ever
esteemed it a merit to rehsh and illustrate its beauties ?
And now perhaps it may pass for a fiction, what
with great veracity I affirm to be fact, that 3IiIton,
after having with much difiiculty prevailed to have
this divine poem licensed for the press, could sell the
copy for no more than fifteen pounds ; the payment of
which valuable consideration, depended upon the sale

" Paradise Lost; book IX- line 2Q.

260 LIFE OF MILTO>'.

of three numerous impressions. So unreasonably may
personal prejudice affect the most excellent perform-
ances !

About two years after, he published Paradise Re-
gained; but Oh! what a falling off ivas there! — of
•which I will say no more, than that there is scarcely a
more remarkable instance of the frailty of human
reason, than our author gave in preferring this poem
to Paradise Lost.

And thus having attended him to the sixty-ninth
j'ear of his age, as closely as such imperfect lights, as
men of letters and retirement usually leave to guide
our inquiry, would allow, it now only remains to be
recorded, that in the year 1674, the gout put a period
to his life, at Bunhill, near London ; from whence his
body was conveyed to St. Giles' Church, by Cripple-
gate, where it lies interred in the chancel ; and a neat
monument has lately been erected to perpetuate his
memory.

In his youth he is said to have been extremely
handsome. The colour of his hair was a light brown,
the symmetry' of his features exact, enlivened with an
agreeable air, and a beautiful mixture of fair and
ruddy. His stature, (as we find it measured by him-
self,) did not exceed the middle size, his person neither
too lean nor corpulent ; his limbs well-proportioned,
nervous, and active, serviceable in all respects to his
exercising the sword, in which he much dehghted ;
and wanted neither skill nor courage to resent an af-
front from men of the most athletic constitutions. In
his diet he was abstemious ; not delicate in the choice
of his dishes ; and strong liquors of all kinds were his
aversion. His deportment was erect, open, affable ;
his conversation easy, cheerful, instructive ; his wit on
all occasions at command, facetious, grave, or satirical,
as the subject required. His judgment, when diseu-

LIFE OF MILTON. 267

gaged from religious and political speculations, was
just and penetrating, his apprehension quick, his mem-
ory tenacious of what he read, his reading only not so
extensive as his genius, for that was universal. And
having treasured up such immense store of science,
perhaps the faculties of his soul grew more vigorous
after he was deprived of sight ; and his imagination,
(naturally sublime and enlarged by reading romances,
of which he was much enamoured in his youth,) when
it was wholly abstracted from material objects, was
more at liberty to make such amazing excursions into
the ideal world, when, in composing his divine work,
he was tempted to range

'• Beyond the visible diurnal sphere."

With so many accomplishments, not to have had
some faults and misfortunes to be laid in the balance
Avith the fame and felicity of writing Paradise Lost,
would have been too great a portion for humanity.

CONTENTS

I.NTRODUCTIOJf , 271

End of Learning, 273

Defects of Educa-
tion, 273

Complete Education,. 276
Edifices for Educa-
tion, 276

Course of Studies, .. 277
Moral Instruction, . . 279
Rhetorical Instruc-
tion, 281

Physical Exercise, . . . 282

Excursions, 284

Diet, 285

TREATISE OF EDUCATION

3Ir. Hartlib,* — I am long since persuaded that
to sav, or do auorht worth memor}^

-, r \ . ^ •' INTRODUCTION,

and imitation, no purpose or respect
should sooner move us, than simply the love of God,
and of mankind. Nevertheless, to write now the
reforming of education, though it be one of the great-
est and noblest designs that can be thought on, and
for the want whereof this nation perishes, I had not
yet at this time been induced, but by your earnest
intreaties, and serious conjurements ; as having my
mind for the present half diverted in the pursuance
of some other assertions, the knowledge and the use
of which cannot but be a great furtherance both
to the enlargement of truth and honest living, with
much more peace. Nor should the laws of any pri-
vate friendship have prevailed with me to divide thus,
or transpose my former thoughts, but that I see those
aims, those actions which have won you with me the
esteem of a person sent hither by some good provi-
dence from a far country, to be the occasion and the
incitement of great good to this island. And, as I
hear, you have obtained the same repute with men of
most approved wisdom, and some of highest authority

, * A learned Bohemian, at that time in England. — Ed.]

272 MILTON.

among us. Not to mention the learned correspond-
ence which you hold in foreign parts, and the extraor-
dinary pains and diligence which you have used in
this matter, both here, and beyond the seas ; either by
the definite will of God so ruling, or the peculiar sway
of nature, which also is God's working. Neither can
I think that so reputed, and so valued as you are, you
would to the forfeit of your own disceniing ability, im-
pose upon me an unfit and over-ponderous argument,
but that the satisfaction which you profess to have re-
ceived from those incidental discourses which we have
wandered into, hath prest and almost constrained you
into a persuasion, that what you require from me in this
point I neither ought, nor can in conscience defer be-
yond this time, both of so much need at once, and so
much opportunity to trv* what God hath determined.
I will not resist therefore, whatever it is, either of di-
vine or human obligement, that you lay upon me ; but
will forthwith set down in writing, as you request me,
that voluntary idea, which hath long in silence pre-
sented itself to me, of abetter education, in extent and
com})rehension far more large, and yet of time far
shorter, and of attainment far more certain, than hath
been yet in practice. Brief I shall endeavour to be •, for
tliat which I have to say, assuredly this nation hath ex-
treme need should be done sooner than spoken. To
tell you, therefore, what I have benefitted herein among
old renowned authors, I shall spare ; and to search what
many modem Januas and Didactics, more than ever I
shall read, have projected, my inclination leads me not.
But if you can accept of these few observations which
have flowered off, and are, as it were, the burnishing
of many studious and contemplative years altogether
spent in the search of religious and civil knowledge,
and such as pleased you so well in the relating, I
here give you them to dispose of

DEFECTS OF EDUCATION. 273

The end, then, of learning, is to repair the ruins of
our first parents, by recrainine to

1 r« ] • I* ' 1 » +-■"*! . END OF LEARMXG.

know God aright, and out ot that
knowledge to love him, to imitate him, to be like him,
as we may the nearest by possessing our souls of true
virtue, which being united to the heavenly grace of
faitli, makes up the highest perfection. But because
our understanding cannot iu this body found itself but
on sensible things, nor arrive so clearly to the know-
ledge of God and things invisible, as by orderly con-
ning over the visible and inferior creature ; the same
method is necessarily to be followed in all discreet
teaching. And seeing eveiy nation affords not expe-
rience and tradition enough for all kind of learning,
therefore we are chiefly taught the languages of those
people who have at any time been most industrious
after wisdom ; so that language is but the instrument
conveying to us things useful to be known. And
though a linguist should pride himself to have all the
tongues that Babel cletit the world into, yet, if he have
not studied the solid things in them, as well as the
words and lexicons, he were nothing so much to be
esteemed a learned man, as any yeoman or tradesman,
competently wise in his mother-dialect only. Hence
appear the many mistakes which have made learning
generally so unpleasing, and so un-

DEFFCTS OF

successful : first, we do amiss to

EDUCATION.

spend seven or eight years merely
in scraping together so much miserable Latin and
Greek, as might be learned otherwise easily and de-
lightfully in one year. x\nd that which casts our pro-
ficiency therein so much behind, is our time lost, partly
in too oft idle vacancies given both to schools and uni-
versities, partly in a preposterous exaction, forcing the
empty wits of children to compose themes, verses and
oratiousj which are the acts of ripest judgment, and
S

the final work of a head filled by long reading and ob-
serving, with elegant maxims, and copious invention.
Tliese are not matters to be wrung from j)Oor strip-
lings, like blood out of the nose, or the ])lucking of
untimely fruit. Besides the ill habit which they get
of wretched barbarizing against the Latin and Greek
idiom, with their untutored Anglicisms, odious to be
read, yet not to be avoided without a well-continued
and judicious conversing among pure authors digested,
which they scarce taste ; whereas, if after some pre-
paratory grounds of speech, by their certain forms got
into memory, they were led to the praxis thereof in
some chosen short book lessoned thoroughly to them,
they might then forthwith proceed to learn the sub-
stance of good things, and arts in due order, which
would bring the whole language quickly into their
power. This I take to be the most rational and most
profitable way of learning languages, and whereby we
may best hope to give account to God of our youth
spent herein : and for the usual method of teaching
arts, I deem it to be an old error of universities, not
yet well recovered from the scholastic grossness of
barbarous ages, that instead of beginning with arts
most easy, (and those be such as are most obvious to
the sense,) they present their young unmatriculated
novices, at first coming, with the most intellective ab-
stractions of logic and metaphysics: so that they hav-
ing but newly left those grammatic flats and shallows,
where they stuck unreasonably to learn a few words
widi lamentable construction, and now on the sudden
transported under another climate, to be tossed and
turinoiled with their unballasted wits, in fathomless
and unquiet deeps of controversy, do for the most part
grow into hatred and contempt of learning, mocked
and deluded all this while with ragged notions and
babblements, while they exi)ected worthy and delight-

DEFECTS OF EDUCATION. '^/^

fill knowledge ; till poverty or youthful years call them
importunately their several ways, and hasten them,
with the sway of friends, either to an ambitious and
mercenar}^, or ignorantly zealous divinity : some al-
lured to the trade of law, grounding their purposes
not on the prudent and heavenly contemplation of jus-
tice and equity, w^hicli was never taught them, but
on the promising and pleasing thoughts of litigious
terms, fat contentions, and flowing fees. Others be-
take them to state affairs, with souls so unprincipled
in virtue, and true generous breeding, that flattery
and court shifl;s, and tyrannous aphorisms, ai)pear
to them the highest points of wisdom ; instilling their
barren hearts with a conscientious slavery, if, as I
rather think, it be not feigned. Others, lastly, of a
more delicious and airy spirit, retire themselves, know-
ing no better, to the enjoyments of ease and luxur}^,
living out their days in feast and jollity ; which, indeed,
is the wisest and the safest coui*se of all these, unless
they were with more integrity undertaken. And these
are the errors, and thase are the fruits of mispending
our prime youth at tlic schools and universities, as
we do, either in learning mere words, or such things
chiefly as were better unlearned.

I shall detain you now no longer in the demonstration
of what we should not do, but straight conduct you to
a hill-side, where I will point you out the right path of
a virtuous and noble education ; laborious, indeed, at
the first ascent, but else so smooth, so green, so full of
goodly prospect, and melodious sounds on eveiy side,
that the harp of Orpheus was not more charming. I
doubt not but ye shall have more ado to drive our dull-
est and laziest youth, our stocks and stubs, from the
infinite desire of such a happy nurture, than we have
now to hale and drag our choicest and hopefullest wits
to that asinine feast of sow-thistles and brambles, which
s2

276 MILTOX.

is commonly set before them, as all the food and enter-
tainment of their tenderest and most

A C03IPLETE

docible asre. I call therefore a com-
plete and generous education, that
which fits a man to perform justly, skilfully, and mag-
nanimously, all the offices both private and public, of
peace and war. And how all this may be done be-
tween twelve, and one in twenty, (less time than is now
bestowed in pure trifling at grammar and sophistry,) is
to be thus ordered.

First, To find out a spacious house, and ground about
it, fit for an academv, and bisr enouffh

EDIFICES FOR 'i i , i i i £*\ "

to locl2"e a hundred and filtv persons,

EDUC-\.TIOX ^ ^ 1 J

whereof twenty, or thereabout, may
be attendants, all under the government of one, who
shall be thought of desert sufficient, and ability either
to do all, or wisely to direct and oversee it done. This
place should be at once both school and university,
not needing a remove to any other house of scholar-
ship, except it be some peculiar college of law, or phys-
ic, where they mean to be a practitioner ; but as for
those general studies, which take up all our time from
Lilly, to the commencing, as they term it, Master of
Art, it should be absolute. After this pattern as many
edifices may be converted to this use, as shall be need-
ful in every city throughout this land, which would
tend much to the increase of learning and civility every
where. This number, less or more, thus collected, to
the convenience of a foot company, or interchangeably
two troops of cavaliy, should divide their day's work
into three parts, as it hes orderly ; their studies, their
exercise, and their diet.

For their studies ; First, they should begin with the
chief and necessarj- rules of some good grammar, either
that now used, or any better; and while this is doing,
their speech is to be fashioned to a distinct and clear

COURSE OF STUDIES. 277

pronunciation, as near as may be to the Italian, espe-
cially in vowels : for we Encflish-

V • r- .111 . COURSE OF

men bemnr far northerly, do not open

°, . . • , , .J STUDIES.

our mouths in the cold an*, wide
enough to grace a southern tongue ; but are observed
by all other nations to speak exceeding close and in-
ward : so that to smatter Latin with an English mouth,
is as ill a hearing as Law-French. Next, to make them
expert in the usefullest points of grammar, and withal
to season them, and win them early to the love of vir-
tue and true labour, ere any flattering seducement, or
vain principle seize them wandering, some easy and
delightful book of education should be read to them;
whereof the Greeks have store, as Cebes, Plutarch, and
other Socratic discourses. But in Latin, we have none
of classic authority extant, except the two or three first
books of Quintilian, and some select pieces elsewhere.
But here the main skill and ground-work will be to
temper them such lectures and explanations upon
every opportunity, as may lead and draw them in will-
ing obedience, enflamed with a study of learning, and
the admiration of virtue ; stirred up with high hopes
of living to be brave men, and worthy patriots, dear to
God, and famous to all ages, that they may despise and
scorn all their childish, and ill-taught qualities, to de-
light in manly and liberal exercises ; which he who
hath the art, and proper eloquence to catch them with,
what with mild and effectual persuasions, and what
with the intimation of some fear, if need be, but
chiefly by his own example, might in a short space
gain them to an incredible diligence and courage ; in-
fusing into their young breasts such an ingenuous and
noble ardour, as would not fail to make many of them
renowned and matchless men. At the same time,
some other hour of the day, might be taught them the
rules of arithmetic, and soon after the elements of se-

omctry, even playing, as the old manner was. After
evening repast till bed-time, their thoughts will be best
taken up in the easy grounds of religion, and the story
of Scripture. The next step would be to the authors
on agriculture, Cato, Varro, and Columella, for the
matter is most easy, and if the language be difficult, so
much the better, it is not a difficulty above their years.
And here will be an occasion of inciting and enabling
them hereafter to improve the tillage of their country,
to recover the bad soil, and to remedy the waste that
is made of good: for this is one of Hercules' praises.
Ere half these authors be read, (which will soon be
with plying hard and daily,) they cannot choose but be
masters of any ordinary prose. So that it will be then
seasonable for them to learn in any modern author, the
use of the globes, and all the maps ; tirst, with the old
names, and then with the new : or they might bo then
capable to read any compendious method of natural
philosophy; and at the same time might be entering
into the Greek tongue, after the same manner as was
prescribed in the Latin ; whereby the difficulties of
grammar being soon overcome, all the historical phys-
iology of Aristotle and Theophrastus are open before
them, and as I may say, under contribution. The like
access will be to Vitruvius, to Seneca's natural ques-
tions, to 3Iela, Celsus, Pliny, or Solinus. And having
thus passed the principles of arithmetic, geometry, as-
tronomy, and geography, with a general compact of
physics, they may descend in mathematics to the in-
strumental science of trigonometry, and from thence
to fortilication, architecture, enginery or navigation.
And in natural philosophy they may proceed leisurely
from the history of meteors, minerals, plants, and liv-
ing creatures, as far as anatomy. Then also in course
might be read to them out of some not tedious writer,
the institution of physic ; that they may know the

MORAL I>STRUCTIO>'. 279

tempers, the humours, the seasons, and how to man-
age a crudity : which he who can wisely and timely
do, is not only a great jihysician to himself, and to his
friends, but also may at some time or other save an
army by this frugal and expenseless means only ; and
not let the healthy and stout bodies of young men rot
away under him for want of this discipline ; which is
a great pity, and no less a shame to the commander.
To set forward all these proceedings in nature and
mathematics, what hinders, but that they may procure,
as oft as shall be needful, the helpful experiences
of hunters, fowlers, fishermen, shepherds, gardeners,
apothecaries ; and in the other sciences, architects,
engineers, mariners, anatomists ; who doubtless will be
ready, some for reward, and some to favour such a
hopeful seminary ? And this will give them such a
real tincture of natural knowledge, as they shall never
forget, but daily augment with delight. Then also
those poets which are now counted most hard, will be
both facile and pleasant, Orpheus, Hesiod, Theocritus,
Aratus, Nicander, Oppian, Dionysius, and in Latin,
Lucretius, Manilius, and the rural part of Virgil.

By this time, years and good general precepts will
have furnished them more distinctly
with that act of reason which in
ethics is called Proairesis: that they
may with some judgment contemplate upon moral
good and evil. Then will be required a special rein-
forcement of constant and sound indoctrinating, to set
them right and firm, instructing them more amply in
the knowledge of virtue, and the hatred of vice: while
their 3'oung and pliant affections are led through all
the moral works of Plato, Xenophon, Cicero, Plutarch,
Laertius, and those Locrian remnants; but still to be
reduced in their nightward studies, wherewith they
close the day's work, under the determinate sentence

280 MILTON.

of David or Solomon, or the evangelists and apostolic
Scriptures. Being perfect in the knowledge of person-
al duty, they may then hegin the study of economics:
and either now, or before this, they may have easily
learned, at any odd hour, the Italian tongue. And
soon after, but with wariness and good antidote, it
would be wholesome enough to let them taste some
choice comedies, Greek, Latin, or Italian : those trag-
edies also that treat of household matters, as Trachi-
nise, Alcestis, and the like. The next remove must
be to the study of politics ; to know the beginning,
end, and reasons of political societies; that they may
not in a dangerous fit of the commonwealth, be such
poor, shaken, uncertain reeds, of such a tottering con-
science, as many of our great counsellors have lately
shown themselves, but steadfast pillars of the state.
After this, they are to dive into the grounds of law,
and legal justice ; delivered first, and with best war-
rant, by Moses ; and as far as human prudence can
be trusted, in those extolled remains of Grecian law-
givers, Lycurgus, Solon, Zaleucus, Charondas," and
thence to all the Roman edicts and tables, with their
Justinian ; and so down to the Saxon and common
laws of England, and the statutes. Sundays also, and
every evening, may be now understandingly spent in
the highest matters of theology, and church histoiy,
ancient and modem : and ere this time the Hebrew
tongue at a set hour might have been gained, that the
Scriptures may be now read in their own original ;
whereto it would be no impossibihty to add the Chal-
dee, and the Syrian dialect. When all these employ-
ments are well conquered, then will the choice histo-
ries, heroic poems, and Attic tragedies of stateliest and
most regal argument, with all the famous political ora-
tions, offer themselves ; which, if they were not only
read, but some of them got by memory, and solemnly

RHETORICAL INSTRUCTION. 281

pronouuced with right accent and grace, as might be
taught, would endue them even with the spirit and
vigour of Demosthenes or Cicero, Euripides or Sopho-
cles. And now, lastlv, will be the

, . 1 , * ' RHETORICAL

time to read with them, those organic

, . , ,1 ' ,. '^ INSTRUCTION.

arts which enable men to discourse
and write perspicuously, elegantly, and according to
the fitted style of lofty, mean, or lowly. Logic there-
fore, so much as is useful, is to be referred to this due
place, with all her well-couched heads and topics, until
it be time to open her contracted palm, into a graceful
and ornate rhetoric, taught out of the rule of Plato, Ar-
istotle, Phalerius, Cicero, Hermogenes, Louginus. To
which poetry would be made subsequent, or, indeed,
rather precedent, as being less subtile and fine, but
more simple, sensuous, and passionate. I mean not
here the prosody of a verse, which they could not but
have hit on before among the rudiments of grammar ;
but that sublime art which in Aristotle's Poetics, in
Horace, and the Italian commentaries of Castelvetro,
Tasso, Mazzoni, and others, teaches what the laws are
of a true epic poem, what of a dramatic, what of a
lyric, wiiat decorum is, which is the grand master-piece
to obserAC. This would make them soon perceive
what despicable creatures our common rhymers and
play writers be, and show them what religious, what
glorious and magnificent use might be made of poetiT,
both in divine and human things. From hence, and
not till now, will be the right season of forming them
to be able writers and composers in every excellent
matter, when they shall be thus fraught with an uni-
versal insight into things. Or whether they be to
speak in parliament or council, honour and attention
would be waiting on their lips. There would then
also appear in pulpits other visages, other gestures, and
stuff otherwise wrouo^ht, than what we now sit under,

282 MILTON.

oft-times to as great a trial of our patience, as any other
that they preach to us. These are the studies wherein
our noble and our gentle youth ought to bestow their
time in a disciplinary way, from twelve to one-and-
twenty ; unless they rely more upon their ancestors
dead, than upon themselves living. In which methodi-
cal course it is so supposed they must proceed by the
steady pace of learning onward, as at convenient times,
for memory's sake, to retire back into the middle ward,
and sometimes into the rear of what they have been
taught, until they have confirmed, and solidly united
the whole body of their perfected knowledge, like
the last embattling of a Roman legion. Now wdll be
worth the seeing what exercises and recreations may
best agree, and become these studies.

The course of study hitherto briefly described, is,

what I can guess by reading, likest
PHYSICAL ^ , . , -, r. , ,

to those ancient and famous schools

of Pythagoras, Plato, Isocrates, Aris-
totle, and such others, out of which were bred up such
a number of renowned philosophers, orators, histori-
ans, poets and princes, all over Greece, Italy, and Asia,
besides the flourishing studies of Cyrene and Alexan-
dria. But herein it shall exceed them, and supply a
defect as great as that which Plato noted in the com-
monwealth of Sparta ; wiiereas that city trained up
their youth most for war, and these in their academies
and lyceum, all for the gown ^ this institution of breed-
ing which I here delineate, shall be equally good, both
for peace and war; therefore about an hour and a half
ere they eat at noon, should be allowed them for exer-
cise, and due rest afterwards : but the time for this
may be enlarged at pleasure, according as their rising
in the morning shall be early. The exercise which I
commend first, is the exact use of their weapon, to
guard and to strike safely with edge or point ; this will

THYSICAL EXERCISE. 283

keep them healthy, nimble, strong, and well in breath ;
is also the hkeliest means to make them grow large
and tall, and to inspire them with a gallant and fearless
courage, Avhich being tempered with seasonable lec-
tures and precepts to them of true fortitude and patience,
will turn into a native and heroic valour, and make
them hate the cowardice of doing wrong. They must
be also practised in all the locks and gripes of wrestling,
wherein Englishmen were wont to excel, as need may
often be in tight to tug or grapple, and to close. And
this, perhaps, will be enough, wherein to prove and heat
tlieir single strength. The interim of unsweating them-
selves regularly, and convenient rest before meat, may
both with profit and delight, be taken up in recreating
and composing their travailed s])irits, with the solemn
and divine harmonies, of music heard or learnt; either
while the skilful organist plies his grave and fancied
descants in lofty fugues, or the whole symphony with
artful and unimaginable touches adorn and grace the
well-studied chords of some choice composer : some-
times the lute, or soft organ-stop waiting on elegant
voices, either to religious, martial, or civil ditties ;
which, if wise men and prophets be not extremely out,
have a great power over dispositions and manners : to
smooth and make them gentle from rustic harshness
and distempered passions. The like also would not be
unexpedient after meat, to assist and cherish nature in
her first concoction, and send their minds back to study
in good tune and satisfaction : where having followed
it close under vigilant eyes, till about two hours before
supper, they are by a sudden alarum or watch-word,
to be called out of their mihtary motions under sky or
covert, according to the season, as was the Roman
wont : first on foot, then, as their age permits, on horse-
back, to all the art of cavalry : that, having in sport,
but with much exactness, and daily muster, served out

284 MILTOX.

the rudiments of their soldiership in all the skill of
emhatthng, marching, encamping, fortifying, besieging
and battering, with all the helps of ancient and modern
stratagems, tactics and warlike maxims, they may as it
were out of a long war, come forth renowned and per-
fect commanders in the service of their country. They
would not then, if they were trusted with fair and
hopeful armies, suffer them, for want of just and wise
discipline, to shed away from about them like sick
feathers, though they be never so oft supplied : they
would not suffer their empty and unrecruitable colo-
nels of twenty men in a company, to quaff out, or con-
vey into secret hoards, the wages of a delusive list, and
a miserable remnant : yet in the mean while to be
over-mastered with a score or two of drunkards, the
only soldiery left about them, or else to comply with
all rapines and violences. No, certainly, if they knew
aught of that knowledge which belongs to good men
or good governors, they would not suffer these things.
But to return to our own institute, be-

EXCURSIO.XS. • 1 1 . , • ^1

sides these constant exercises at home,
there is another op])ortunity of gaining experience, to
be won from pleasure itself abroad. In those vernal
seasons of the year, when the air is calm and pleasant,
it were an injury and sullenness against nature, not to
go out and see her riclies, and partake in her rejoicing
with heaven and earth. I should not therefore be a
persuader to them of studying much then, after two or
three years that they have well laid their grounds, but
to ride out in companies with prudent and staid guides,
to all the quarters of the land : learning and observing
all places of strength, all commodities of building and
of soil, for towns and tillage, harbours and ports for
trade. Sometimes taking sea as far as to our navy, to
learn there also what they can in the practical know-
ledge of saihng, and of sea-iight. These ways would

DIET. 285

try all their peculiar gifts of nature, and if there were
any secret excellence among them, would fetch it out,
and give it fair opportunities to advance itself by,
which could not but mightily redound to the good of
this nation, and bring into fashion again those old ad-
mired virtues and excellencies, with far more advan-
tage, now in this purity of Christian knowledge. Nor
shall we then need the 3Ionsieurs of Paris to take our
hopeful youth into their slight and prodigal custodies,
and send them over back again transformed into mim-
ics, apes and kick-shoes. But if they desire to see oth-
er countries at three or four and twenty years of age,
not to learn principles, but to enlarge experience, and
make wise observations, they will by that time be such
as shall deserve the regard and honour of all men
where they pass, and the society and friendship of
those in all places who are best and most eminent.
And perhaps then other nations will be glad to visit us
for their breeding, or else to imitate us in their own
country.

Now, lastly, for their diet, there cannot be much to
say, save only that it would be best
in the same house ; for much time
else would be lost abroad, and many ill habits got ; and
that it should be plain, healthful and moderate, I sup-
pose is out of controversy. Thus, 3Ir. Hartlib, you
have a general view in writing, as your desire was, of
that which at several times I had discoursed with you
concerning the best and noblest way of education ; not
beginning, as some have done, from the cradle, which
yet might be worth many considerations, if brevity had
not been my scope. Many other circumstances also I
could have mentioned, but this, to such as have the
worth in them to make trial, for light and direction,
may be enough. Only, I believe that this is not a bow
for everv man to shoot in, that counts himself a teach-

286 MILTO.V.

er, but will require sinews almost equal to those which
Homer gave Ulysses ; yet I am withal persuaded, that
it may prove much more easy in the essay, than it now
seems at distance, and much more illustrious : howbeit,
not more difficult than I imagine, and tjiat imagination
presents me with nothing but very ha})py and very
possible, according to best wishes ; if God hath so de-
creed, and this age hath spirit and capacity enough to
apprehend.

APPENDIX

APPENDIX.

ON STUDY.

[From Mr. Locke's Journal, quoted in Lord King's Life of Locke]

The end of study is knowledge, and the end of
knowledge, practice or communication. This true de-
light is commonly joined with all improvements of
knowledge ; but v/lien we study only for that end, it
is to be considered rather as diversion than business,
and so is to be reckoned among our recreations.

The extent of knowledge or things knowable is so
A-ast, our duration here is so short, and the entrance
by which the knowledge of things gets into our un-
derstanding so narrow, that the time of our w^hole life
would be found too short, without the necessary allow-
ances for childhood and old age, (which are not capa-
ble of much improvement,) for the refreshment of our
bodies and unavoidable avocations, and in most con-
ditions for the ordinary employment of their callings,
which if they neglect, they cannot eat, nor live. I
say that the whole time of our life, without these
necessarv" defalcations, is not enough to acquaint us
with all those things, I will not say which we are ca-
pable of knowing, but which it would not be only
convenient but very advantageous to know. He that
will consider how many doubts and difficulties have
T

•290 APPE.VDIX.

remained in the minds of the most knowing men after
long and studious iuquin' ; how much in those several
provinces of knowledge they have surveyed, they
have left undiscovered : how many other provinces of
the " mundus intelligibilis," as I may call it, they nev-
er once travelled on, will easily consent to the dispro-
portionateness of our time and strength to this great-
ness of business, of knowledge taken in its full
latitude, and which, if it be not our main business
here, yet it is so necessary to it, and so interwoven
with it, that we can make little further progress in
doing, than we do in knowing, — at least to little pur-
pose;— acting without understanding being usually at
best but lost labour.

It therefore much behoves us to improve the best
we can our time and talent in this respect, and since
we have a long journey to go, and the days are but
short, to take the straightest and most direct road we
can. To this purpose, it may not perhaps be amiss to
decline some things that are likely to bewilder us, or
at least lie out of our way, — First, as all that maze of
words and phrases which have been invented and
employed only to instruct and amuse people in the
ail of disputing, and will be found perhaps, when look-
ed into, to have little or no meaning ; and with this
kind of stuff the logics, physics, ethics, metaphysics,
and divinity of the schools are thought by some to be
too much tilled. This I am sure, that where we leave
distinctions vrithout finding a ditference in things;
where we make variety of phrases, or think we fur-
nish ourselves with arguments without a progress in
the real knowledge of things, we only fill our heads
with empty sounds, which however thought to belong
to learning and knowledge, will no more improve our
understandings and strengthen our reason, than the
noise of a jack will fill our bellies or strengthen our

APPENDIX. 291

bodies ; and the art to fence with those which are
called subtleties, is of no more use than it would be to
be dexterous in tying and untying knots in cobwebs.
Words are of no value nor use, but as they are the
signs of things ; when they stand for nothing they are
less than ciphers, for instead of augmenting the value
of those they are joined with, they lessen it, and make
it nothing : and where they have not a clear distinct
signification, they are like unusual or ill-made figures
that confound our meaning.

2d. An aim and desire to know what hath been
other men's opinions. Truth needs no recommenda-
tion, and error is not mended by it ; and in our inquiry
after knowledge, it as little concerns us what other men
have thought, as it does one who is to go from Oxford
to London, to know what scholars walk quietly on
foot, inquiring the way and surveying the country as
they went, who rode post after their guide without
minding the way he went, who were carried along
muffled up in a coach with their company, or where
one doctor lost or went out of his way, or where
another stuck in the mire. If a traveller gets a know-
ledge of the right way, it is no matter whether he
knows the infinite windings, byways, and turnings
where others have been misled ; the knowledge of the
right secures him from the wrong, and that is his great
business ; and so methinks it is in our pilgrimage
through this world ; men's fancies have been infinite
even of the learned, and the history of them endless :
and some not knowing whither they would go, have kept
going, though they have only moved ; others have fol-
lowed only their own imaginations, though they meant
right, which is an errant, which with the wisest leads us
through strange mazes. Interest has blinded some and
prejudiced others, who have yet marched confidently on ;
and however out of the wav, they have thought them-
t2

•292 APPEXDIX.

selves most in the right. I do not say this to under-
value the hght we receive from others, or to think
there are not those who assist us mightily in our en-
deavours after knowledge ; perhaps without books we
should be as ignorant as the Indians, whose minds are
as ill clad as their bodies ; but I think it is an idle and
useless thing to make it one's business to study what
have been other men's sentiments in things where rea-
son is only to be judge, on purpose to be furnished
with them, and to be able to cite them on all occasions.
However it be esteemed a great part of learning, yet
to a man that considers how httle time he has, and
how much work to do, how many things he is to learn,
how many doubts to clear in religion, how many rules
to establish to himself in morahty, how much pains to
be taken with himself to master his unruly desires and
passions, how to provide himself against a thousand
eases and accidents that will happen, and an infinite
deal more, both in his general and particular calling;
I say, to a man that considers this well, it will not seem
much his business to acquaint himself designedly with
the various conceits of men that are to be found in
books even upon subjects of moment. I deny not but
the kno^ving of these opinions in all their variety, con-
tradiction, and extravagancy, may serve to instruct us in
the vanity and ignorance of mankind, and both to
humble and caution us upon that consideration, but
this seems not reason enough to me to engage pur-
posely in this study, and in our inquiries after more
material points, we shall meet with enough of this
medley to acquaint us with the weakness of man's un-
derstanding.

3d. Purity of language, a polished style, or exact
criticism in foreign languages — thus I think Greek and
Latin may ])e called, as well as French and Italian, —
and to spend much time in these may perhaps serve

appe:vdix. 293

to set one off in the world, and give one the reputation
of a scholar. But if that be all, methinks it is labour-
ing for an outside ; it is at best but a handsome dress
of truth or falsehood that one busies one's-self about,
and makes most of those who lay out their time this
way rather as fashionable gentlemen, than as wise or
useful men.

There are so many advantages of speaking one's
own language well, and being a master in it, that let a
man's calling be what it will, it cannot but be worth
our taking some pains in it, but it is by no means to
have the first place in our studies: but he that makes
good language subservient to a good life, and an instru-
ment of virtue, is doubly enabled to do good to others.

When I speak against the laying out our time and
study on criticisms, I mean such as may serve to make
us great masters in Pindar and Persius, Herodotus aiid
Tacitus ; and I must always be understood to except
all study of languages and critical learning, that may
aid us in understanding the Scriptures ; for they being
an eternal foundation of truth, as immediately coming
from the fountain of truth, whatever doth help us to
understand their true sense, doth well deserve our
pains and study.

4th. Antiquity and history as far as they are de-
signed only to furnish us with story and talk. For the
stories of Alexander and Csesar, no farther than they
instruct us in the art of hving well, and furnish us with
observations of wisdom and prudence, are not one jot
to be preferred to the histor}- of Robin Hood, or the
Seven Wise Masters. I do not deny but history is
very useful, and very instructive of human life ; but if
it be studied only for the reputation of being an histori-
an, it is a very empty thing ; and he that can tell all
the particulars of Herodotus and Plutarch, Curtius and
Livy, without making any other use of them, may be

•294 APPE-XDIX.

an iguorant man with a good memory, and with all his
pains hath only filled his head with Christmas tales.
And which is worse, the greatest part of history being
made up of wars and conquests, aud their style, espe-
cially the Romans, speaking of valour as the chief, if
not the only virtue, we are in danger to be misled by
the general current and business of history, and look-
ing on Alexander and Csesar, and such like heroes, as
the highest instances of human greatness, because they
each of them caused the death of several hundred thou-
sand men, and the ruin of a much greater number, over-
run a great part of the earth, and killed the inhabitants
to possess themselves of their countries — we are apt to
make butchery and rapine the chief marks and very
essence of human greatness. And if civil history be
a great dealer of it, and to many readers thus useless,
curious and difficult inquirings in antiquity are much
more so ; and the exact dimensions of the Colossus, or
figure of the Capitol, the ceremonies of the Greek and
Roman marriages, or who it was that first coined
money ; these, I confess, set a man well off in . the
world, especially amongst the learned, but set him very
little on in his way.

5th. Nice questions and remote useless speculations,
as where the earthly paradise was — or what fruit it
was that was forbidden — where Lazarus's soul was
whilst his body lay dead — and what kind of bodies we
shall have at the resurrection r &:c. &c. These things
well regulated, will cut oft^ at once a great deal of
business from one who is setting out into a course of
study, not that all these are to be counted utterly use-
less, and lost time cast away on them. The four last
may be each of them the full and laudable employ-
ment of several persons who may with great advantage
make languages, history, or antiquity, their study. For,
as for words without meaning, which is the first head

APPE-NDIX. 295

I mentioned, I cannot imagine them any way Avorth
hearing or reading, much less studying ; but there is
such an harmony in all sorts of truth and knowledge,
they do all support and give light so to one another,
that one cannot deny, but languages and criticisms,
history and antiquity, strange opinions, and odd specu-
lations, serve often to clear and confirm very material
and useful doctrines. My meaning therefore is, not
tliat they are not to be looked into by a studious man
at any time ; all that I contend is, that they are not to
be made our chief aim, nor first business, and that they
are always to be handled with some caution ; for since
having but a little time, we have need of much care
in the husbanding of it. These parts of knowledge
ought not to have either the first or greatest part of
our studies, and we have the more need of this cau-
tion, because they are much in vogue amongst men of
letters, and cany with them a great exterior of learn-
ing, and so are a glittering temptation in a studious
man's way, and such as is very likely to mislead him.
But if it were fit for me to marshal the parts of
knowledge, and allot to any one its place and prece-
dency, thereby to direct one's studies, I should think it
were natural to set them in this order.

1. Heaven being our great business and interest, th e
knowledge which may direct us thither is certainly so
too, so that this is without peradventure the study that
ought to take the first, and chiefest place in our
thoughts ; but wherein it consists, its parts, method,
and apphcatiou, will deserve a chapter by itself.

2. The next thing to happiness in the other world,
is a quiet prosperous passage through this, which re-
quires a discreet conduct and management of ourselves,
in the several occurrences of our lives. The study of
prudence then seems to me to deserve the second
place in our thoughts and studies. A man may be,

296 APPENDIX.

perhaps, a good man, (which Hves in truth and sincer-
ity of heart towards God,) witli a small portion of
prudence, but he will never be very happy in himself,
nor useful to others without. These two are every
man's business.

3. If those who are left by their predecessors with
a plentifid fortune are excused from having a particu-
lar calling, in order to their subsistence in this life, it
is yet certain that, by the law of God, they are under
an obligation of doing something; which, having been
judiciously treated by an able pen, I shall not meddle
with, but pass to those who have made letters their
business ; and in these I think it is incumbent to make
the proper business of their calling the third place in
their study.

This order being laid, it will be easy for every one
to determine with himself what tongues and histories
are to be studied by him, and how far in subserviency
to his general or particular calling.

Our happiness being thus parcelled out, and being
in every part of it very large, it is certain we should
set ourselves on work without ceasing, did not both
the parts we are made up of bid us hold. Our bodies
and our minds are neither of them capable of continual
study, and if we take not a just measure of our strength,
in endeavouring to do a great deal, we shall do nothing
at all.

The knowledge we acquire in this world, I am apt
to think, extends not beyond the limits of this life.
The beatific vision of the other life needs not the help
of this dim twilight ; but be that as it will, I am sure
the principal end why we are to get knowledge here,
is to make use of it for the benefit of ourselves and
others in this world ; but if by gaining it we destroy
our health, we labour for a thing that will be useless
in our hands ; and if by harrassing our bodies, (though

APPENDIX.

297

with a design to render ourselves more useful,) we
deprive ourselves of the abilities and opportunities of
doing that good we might have done with a meaner
talent, which God thought sufficient for us by having
denied us the strength to improve it to that pitch
which men of stronger constitutions can attain to, we
rob God of so much service, and our neighbour of all
that help, which, in a state of health, with moderate
knowledge, we might have been able to perform. He
that sinks bis vessel by overloading it, though it be
with gold and silver, and precious stones, will give his
owner but an ill account of his voyage.

It being past doubt, then, that allowance is to be
made for the temper and strength of our bodies, and
that our health is to regulate the measure of our stu-
dies, the great secret is to tind out the proportion ; the
difficulty whereof lies in this, that it must not only be
varied according to the constitution and strength of
every individual man, but it must also change with the
temper, vigour, and circumstances and heahh of every
particular man, in the different varieties of health, or
indisposition of body, which every thing our bo-
dies have any commerce with is able to alter : so that
it is as hard to say how many hours a day a man shall
study constantly, as to say how much meat he shall
eat every day, wherein his own prudence, governed by

the present circumstances, can only judge The

regular proceeding of our watch not being the fit mea-
sure of time, but the secret motions of a much more
curious engine, our bodies being to limit out the por-
tion of time in this occasion ; however, it may be so
contrived that all the time may not be lost, for the con-
versation of an ingenious friend upon what one hath
read in the morning, or any other profitable subject,
may perhaps let into the mind as much improvement
of knowledge, though with less prejudice to the health,

298 APPENDIX.

as settled solemn poring over books, which we gener-
ally call study ; which, though no necessary part, yet
I am sure is not the only, and perhaps not the best
way, of improving the understanding.

Great care is to be taken that our studies en-
croach not upon our sleep : this I am sure, sleep is the
great balsam of life and restorative of nature, and stu-
dious sedentaiy men have more need of it than the
active and laborious, because those men's business, and
their bodily labours, though they waste their spirits,
help transpiration, and carry away their excrements,
which are the foundation of diseases ; whereas the stu-
dious sedentary man employing his spirits within,
equally or more wastes them than the other, but with-
out the benefit of transpiration, allowing the matter of
disease insensibly to accumulate. We are to lay by
our books and meditations when we find either our
heads or stomachs indisposed upon any occasion ; study
at such time doing great harm to the body and very
litde good to the mind.

1st. As the body, so the mind also, gives laws to our
studies ; I mean to the duration and continuance of
them ; let it be never so capacious, never so active, it
is not capable of constant labour nor total rest. The la-
bour of the mind is study, or intention of thought, and
when we find it is weary, either in pursuing other
men's thoughts ; as in reading, or tumbling or tossing
its own as in meditation, it is time to give off and let it
recover itself Sometimes meditation gives a refresh-
ment to the weariness of reading, and vice versa, some-
times the change of ground, i. e. going from one sub-
ject or science to another, rouses the mind, and fills it
with fresh vigour ; oftentimes discourse enlivens it
when it flags, and puts an end to the weariness without
stopping it one jot, but rather forwarding it in its jour-
ney ; and sometimes it is so tired, that nothing but a

APPE>'DIX. 299

perfect relaxation will serve the turn. All these are to
be made use of according as every one finds most suc-
cessful in himself to the best husbandry of his time and
thought.

2d. The mind has sympathies and antipathies as
well as the body ; it has a natural preference often of
one study before another. It would be well if one had
a perfect command of them, and sometimes one is to
try for the mastery, to bring the mind into order and a
pliant obedience ; but generally it is better to follow
the bent and tendency of the mind itself, so long as it
keeps within the bounds of our proper business, where-
in there is generally latitude enough. By this means,
we shall shall go not only a great deal faster, and hold
out a great deal longer, but the discovery we shall
make will be a great deal clearer, and make deeper
impressions in our minds. The inclination of the
mind, is as the palate of the stomach ; that seldom di-
gests well in the stomach, or adds much strength to the
body that nauseates the palate, and is not recommend-
ed by it.

There is a kind of restiveness in almost every one's
mind ; sometimes without perceiving the cause, it will
boggle and stand still, and one cannot get it a step for-
ward ; and at another time it will press forward and
there is no holding it in. It is always good to take it
when it is willing, and keep on whilst it goes at ease,
though it be to the breach of some of the other rules
concerning the body. But one must take care of tres-
passing on that side too often, for one that takes pleas-
ure in study, flatters himself that a little now, and a
little to-morrow, does no harm, that he feels no ill ef-
fects of an hour's sitting up, — insensibly undermines
his health, and when the disease breaks out, it is sel-
dom charged to these past miscarriages tliat laid in the
provision for it.

300 APPE-XDIX.

The subject being chosen, the body and mind being
both in a temper fit for study, what remains but that a
man betake himself to it. These certainly are good
preparatories, yet if there be not something else done,
perhaps Ave shall not make all the profit we might.

1st. It is a duty we owe to God as the fountain and
author of all truth, who is truth itself; and it is a duty
also we owe our own selves, if we will deal candidly and
sincerely with our own souls, to have our minds con-
stantly disposed to entertain and receive truth where-
soever we meet with it, or under whatsoever appear-
ance of plain or ordinaiy, strange, new, or perhaps dis-
pleasing, it may come in our way. Truth is the prop-
er object, the proper riches and furniture of the mind,
and according as his stock of this is, so is the difference
and value of one man above another. He that fills his
head with vain notions and false opinions, may have
his mind perhaps puffed up and seemingly much en-
larged, but in truth it is narrow and empty ; for all
that it comprehends, all that it contains, amounts to
nothing, or less than nothing ; for falsehood is below
ignorance, and a lie worse than nothing.

Our first and great duty, then, is to bring to our studies
and to our inquiries after knowledge, a mind covetous of
truth ; that seeks after nothing else, and after that impar-
tially, and embraces it, how poor, how contemptible, how
unfashionable soever it may seem. This is that which
all studious men profess to do, and yet it is that where
I think very many miscarry. Who is there almost
that has not opinions planted in him by education time
out of mind ; which by that means come to be as the
municipal laws of the country, which must not be
questioned, but are then looked on with reverence as
the standards of right and wrong, truth and falshood ;
when perhaps these so sacred opinions were but the
oracles of the nurseiy, or the traditional grave talk of

APPENDIX. 301

those who pretend to inform our childhood ; who re-
ceived them from liand to hand without ever examin-
ing them. This is the fate of our tender age, which
being thus seasoned early, it grows by continuation of
time, as it were into the very constitution of the mind,
which afterwards very difficultly receives a different
tincture. When we are grown up, we find the world
divided into bands and companies : not only as congre-
gated under several politics and governments, but unit-
ed only upon account of opinions, and in that respect,
combined strictly one with another, and distinguished
from others, especially in matters of religion. If birth
or chance have not thrown a man young into any of
these, which yet seldom fails to happen, choice, when
he is grown up, certainly puts him into some or other
of them ; often out of an opinion that that party is in the
right, and sometimes because he finds it is not safe to
stand alone, and therefore thinks it convenient to herd
somewhere. Now, in ever\' one of these parties of men
there are a certain number of opinions which are re-
ceived and owned as the doctrines and tenets of that
society, with the profession and practice whereof all
who are of their communion ought to give up them-
selves, or else they will be scarce looked on as of that
society, or at best, be thought but lukewami brothers,
or in (janger to apostatize.

It is plain in the great difference and contrariety of
opinions that are amongst these several parties, that
there is much falsehood and abundance of mistakes in
most of them. Cunning in some, and ignorance in
others, first made them keep them up ; and yet how
seldom is it that implicit faith, fear of losing credit with
the party or interest, (for all these operate in their
turns,) suffers any one to question the tenet of his par-
ty ; but altogether in a bundle he receives, embraces,
and without examining, he professes, and sticks to

302 APPEXDIX.

them, and measures all other opinions by them. World-
ly interest also insinuates into several men's minds di-
vers opinions, which suiting with their temporal ad-
vantage, are kindly received, and in time so rivetted
there, that it is not easy to remove them. By these,
and perhaps other means, opinions come to be settled
and fixed in men's minds, which, whether true or false,
there they remain in reputation as substantial material
ti'uths, and so are seldom questioned or examined by
those who entertain them ; and if they happen to be
false, as in most men the greatest part must necessarily
be, they put a man quite out of the way in the whole
course of his studies ; and though in his reading and
inquiries, he flatters himself that his design is to in-
form his understanding in the real knowledge of truth,
yet in effect it tends and reaches to nothing but the
confirming of his already received opinions, the things
he meets with in other men's writings and discoveries
being received or neglected as they hold proportion
with those anticipations which before had taken pos-
session of his mind. This will plainly appear if we
look but on an instance or two of it. It is a principal
doctrine of the Roman party to believe that their
church is infallible ; this is received as the mark of a
good catholic, and implicit faith, or fear, or interest
keeps all men from questioning it. This being enter-
tained as an undoubted principle, see what work it
makes with scripture and reason : neither of them will
be heard. The speaking with never so much clearness
and demonstration, when they contradict any of the
doctrines or institutions ; and though it is not grown to
that height, barefaced to deny the scripture, yet inter-
pretations and distinctions, evidently contrary to the
plain sense, and to the common apprehensions of men,
are made use of to elude its meaning, and preserve en-
tire the authority of this, their principle, that the church

APPENDIX. 303

is infallible. On the other side, make the light within
our guide, and see what will become of reason and
scripture. An Hobbist, with his principle of self-pre-
servation, whereof himself is to be judge, will not easily
admit a gi-eat many plain duties of morality. The
same must necessarily be found in all men who have
taken up principles without examining the truth of
them. It being here, then, that men take up prejudice
to truth without being aware of it, and afterwards like
men of corrupted appetites, when they think to nourish
themselves, generally feed only on those things that
suit with and increase the vicious humour, — this part
is carefully to be looked after. These ancient pre-oc-
cupations of our minds, these several and almost sacred
opinions, are to be examined, if we will make way for
truth, and put our minds in that freedom which belongs
and is necessary to them. A mistake is not the less
so, and will never grow into a truth, because we have
believed it a long time, though perhaps it be the harder
to part with ; and an error is not the less dangerous,
nor the less contrary to truth, because it is cried up and
had in veneration by any party, though it is likely we
shall be the less disposed to think it so. Here, there-
fore, we have need of all our force and all our sincer-
ity ; and here it is w^e have use of the assistance of a
serious and sober friend, who may help us sedately to
examine these our received and beloved opinions ; for
the mind by itself being prepossessed with them can-
not so easily question, look round, and argue against
them. They are the darlings of our minds, and it is as
hard to find fault with them, as for a man in love to
dislike his mistress ; there is need, therefore, of the as-
sistance of another, at least it is ver\' useful impartially
to show us their defects, and help us to try them by
the ptain and evident principle of reason or religion.
2d. This grand miscarriage in our study draws after

304 APPENDIX.

it another of less consequence, which yet is very nat-
ural for bookish men to run into, and that is the read-
ing of authors very intently and diligently to mind the
arguments pro and con they use, and endeavour to
lodge them safe in their memory, to serve them upon
occasion. This, when it succeeds to the purpose de-
signed, (which it only does in very good memories, and,
indeed, is rather the business of the memory than judg-
ment,) sets a man off before the world as a very know-
ing, learned man, but upon trial will not be found to be
so ; indeed, it may make a man a ready talker and dis-
putant, but not an able man. It teaches a man to be
a fencer ; but in the irreconcileable war between truth
and falsehood, it seldom or never enables him to choose
the right side, or to defend it well, being got of it. He
that desires to be knowing indeed, that covets rather
the possession of truth than the show of learning, that
designs to improve himself in the solid substantial
knowledge of things, ought, I think, to take another
course ; i. e. to endeavour to get a clear and true notion
of things as they are in themselves. This being. fixed
in the mind well, (without trusting to or troubling the
memory, which often fails us,) always naturally sug-
gests arguments upon all occasions, either to defend
the truth or confound error. This seems to me to be
that which makes some men's discourses to be so clear,
evident, and demonstrative, even in a few words; for
it is but laying before us the true nature of any thing
w^e would discourse of, and our faculty of reasoning is
so natural to us, that the clear inferences do, as it were,
make themselves : we have, as it were, an instinctive
knowledge of the truth, which is always most accepta-
ble to the mind, and the mind embraces it in its native
and naked beauty. This way also of knowledge, as it
is in less danger to be lost, because it burdens not the
memory, but is placed in the judgment; so it makes a

APPE-VDIX. 305

man talk always coherently and confidently to himself
on which side soever he is attacked, or with whatever
arguments the same truth, by its natural light and con-
trariety to falsehood, still shows without much ado, or
any great and long deduction of words, the weakness
and absurdity of the opposition : whereas the topical
man, with his great stock of borrowed and collected
arguments, will be found often to contradict himself:
for the arguments of divers men being often founded
upon different notions, and deduced from contrary prin-
ciples, though they may be all directed to the support
or confutation of some one opinion, do, notwithstand-
ing, often really clash one with another.

3d. Another thing, which is of great use for the clear
conception of truth, is, if we can bring ourselves to it,
to think upon things, abstracted and separate from
words. Words, without doubt, are the great and al-
most only way of conveyance of one man's thoughts
to another man's understanding ; but when a man
thinks, reasons, and discourses within himself, I see not
what need he has of them. I am sure it is better to lay
them aside, and have an immediate converse with the
ideas of the things ; for words are, in their own nature,
so doubtful and obscure, their signification, for the most
part, so uncertain and undetermined, which men even
designedly have in their use of them increased, that if
in our meditations, our thoughts busy themselves about
words, and stick at the names of things, it is odds but
they are misled or confounded. This, perhaps, at first
sight may seem but an useless nicety, and in the prac-
tice, perhaps, it will be found more difficult than one
would imagine ; but yet upon trial I dare say any one's
experience will tell him it was worth while to endeav-
our it. He that would call to mind his absent friend,
or preserve his memor}', does it best and most effectu-
ally by reviving in his mind the idea of him, and con-
U

306 APPENDIX.

templating that ; and it is but a veiy faint imperfect
way of thinking of one's friend barely to remember his
name, and think upon the sound he is usually called by.

4th. It is of great use in the pursuit of knowledge not
to be too confident, nor too distrustful of our own judg-
ment, nor to believe we can comprehend all things nor
nothing. He that distrusts his own judgment in every
thing, and thinks his understanding not to be relied on
in the search of truth, cuts off his own legs that he may
be carried up and down by others, and makes himself
a ridiculous dependant upon the knowledge of others,
which can possibly be of no use to him ; for I can no
more know any thing by another man's understanding,
than I can see by another man's eyes. So much I
know, so much truth I have got ; so far I am in the
right, as I do really know myself ; whatever other men
have it is in their possession, it belongs not to me, nor
can be communicated to me but by making me alike
knowing ; it is a treasure that cannot be lent or made
over. On the other side, he that thinks his understand-
ing capable of all things, mounts upon wings of his own
fancy, though indeed nature never meant him any, and
so venturing into the vast expanse of incomprehensible
varieties, only makes good the fable of Icarus, and
loses himself in the abyss. We are here in the state
of mediocrity ; finite creatures, furnished with powers
and faculties very well fitted to some purposes, but
very disproportionate to the vast and unlimited extent
of things.

5th. It would, therefore, be of great sei*\uce to us to
know how far our faculties can reach, that so we might
not go about to fathom where our line is too short ; to
know what things are the proper objects of our inqui-
ries and understanding, and where it is we ought to
stop, and launch out no farther for fear of losing our-
selves or our labour. This, perhaps, is an inquiiy of

APPENDIX. 307

as much difficulty as any we shall find in our way of
knowledge, and fit to be resolved by a man when he
is come to the end of his study, and not to be proposed
to one at his setting out ; it being properly the result
to be expected after a long and dihgent research to de-
termine what is knowable and what not, and not a
question to be resolved by the guesses of one who has
scarce yet acquainted himself with obvious truths. I
shall therefore, at present, suspend the thoughts I have
had upon this subject, which ought maturely to be
considered of, always remembering that things infinite
are too large for our capacity ; we can have no com-
prehensive knowledge of them, and our thoughts are at
a loss and confounded when they pry too curiously
into them. The essences also of substantial beings are
beyond our ken ; the manner also how nature, in this
great machine of the world, produces the several phe-
nomena, and continues the species of things in a suc-
cessive generation, &c., is what I think lies also out of
the reach of our understanding. That which seems to
me to be suited to the end of man, and lie level to his
understanding, is the improvement of natural experi-
ments for the conveniences of this life, and the way of
ordering himself so as to attain happiness in the other —
I. e. moral philosophy, which, in my sense, compre-
hends religion too, or a man's whole duty.

Gth. For the shortening of our pains, and keeping
us from incurable doubt and perplexity of mind, and
an endless inquiry after greater certainty than is to be
had, it would be very convenient in the several points
that are to be known and studied, to consider what
proofs the matter in hand is capable of, and not to ex-
pect other kind of evidence than the nature of the thing
will bear. Where it hath all the proofs that such a
matter is capable of, there we ought to acquiesce, and
receive it as an established and demonstrated truth ; for
u2

308 APPENDIX.

belongs to it, in the common state and order of things,
and that supposing it to be as true as any thing ever
was, yet you cannot possibly contrive nor imagine how
to have better proofs of it than you have without a
miracle : whatsoever is so, though there may be some
doubts, some obscurity, yet is clear enough to deter-
mine our thoughts and fix our assent. The want of
this caution, I fear, has been the cause why some men
have turned sceptics in points of great importance,
which yet have all the proofs that, considering the na-
ture and circumstances of the things, any rational man
can demand, or the most cautious fancy.

7th. A great help to the memory, and means to avoid
confusion in our thoughts, is to draw out and have fre-
(juently before us a scheme of those sciences we employ
our studies in, a map, as it were, of the mundus ictel-
ligibilis. This, perhaps, will be best done by every one
himself for his own use, as best agreeable to his own
notion, though the nearer it comes to the nature and
order of things, it is still the better. However, it
cannot be decent for me to think my crude draught fit
to regulate another's thoughts by, especially when, per-
haps, our studies lie different ways ; though I cannot
but confess to have received this benefit by it, that
though I have changed often the subject I have been
studying, read books by patches and accidentally, as
they have come in my way, and observed no method
nor order in my studies, yet making now and then
some little reflection upon the order of things as they
are, or at least I have fancied them to have in them-
selves, I have avoided confusion in my thoughts. The
scheme I had made serving hke a regular chest of
drawers, to lodge those things orderly, and in the prop-
er places, which came to hand confusedly, and without
anv method at all.

APPENDIX. 309

8th. It will be no hinderance at all to our study if
we sometimes study ourselves, i. e. our own abilities and
defects. There are peculiar endowments and natural
fitnesses, as well as defects and weaknesses, almost in
every man's mind ; when we have considered and made
ourselves acquainted with them, we shall not only be
the better enabled to find out remedies for the infirmi-
ties, but we shall know the better how to turn our-
selves to those things which we are best fitted to deal
with, and so to apply ourselves in the course of our
studies, as we may be able to make the greatest ad-
vantage. He that has a bittle and wedges put into his
hand, may easily conclude he is ordered to cleave
knotty pieces, and a plane and carving tools to design
handsome figures.

It is too obvious a thing to mention the reading only
tlie best authors on those subjects we would inform
ourselves in. The reading of bad books is not only
the loss of time and standing still, but going backwards
quite out of one's way ; and he that has his head filled
with wrong notions is much more at a distance from
truth than he that is jierfectly ignorant.

I will only say this one thing concerning books, that
however it has got the name, yet converse with books
is not, in my opinion, the principal part of study ; there
are two others that ought to be joined with it, each
whereof contributes their share to our improvement in
knowledge ; and those are meditation and discourse.
Reading, methinks, is but collecting the rough ma-
terials, amongst which a great deal must be laid aside
as useless. Meditation is, as it were, choosing and fit-
ting the materials, framing the timbers, squaring and
laying the stones, and raising the building ; and dis-
course with a friend, (for wrangling in a dispute is of
littl6 use,) is, as it were, surveying the structure, walk-
ing in the rooms, and observing the symnietry and

310 APPENDIX.

agreement of the parts, taking notice of the soHdity or
defects of the works, and the best way to find out and
correct what is amiss ; besides that it helps often to dis-
cover truths, and fix tiiem in our minds, as much as
either of the other two.

It is time to make an end of this long and overgrown
discourse. I shall only add one word, and then con-
clude ; and that is, that whereas in the beginning I cut
off history from our study, as a useless part, as certainly
it is, where it is read only as a tale that is told ; here,
on the other side, I recommend it to one who hath well
settled in his mind the principles of morality, and knows
how to make a judgment on the actions of men, as one
of the most useful studies he can ai)ply himself to.
There he shall see a picture of the world and the na-
ture of mankind, and so learn to think of men as they
are. There he shall see the rise of opinions, and find
from what shght, and sometimes shameful occasions,
some of them have taken their rise, which yet after-
wards have had great authority, and passed almost for
sacred in the world, and borne down all before them.
There also one may learn great and useful instructions
of prudence, and be warned against the cheats and
rogueries of the world, with many more advantages,
which I shall not here enumerate.

GENERAL INDEX.

LOCKE

Accounts, mercantile, value
of knowledge of, p. 251.

Air, exposure to, benefits of,
40.

Affectation, injurious ef-
fects of, 78.

Arithmetic, elementary in-
struction in, 220.

Astronomy, how to be taught,
221.

Augustus, habits of, as to
meals, 45.

Authority, parental, how to
be maintained, 61.

Authority, exercise of should
be discreet, 102.

Awe towards parents, a good
early influence, G2.

Bathing, benefit of, 38.

Beating, unfitness of, as a
punishment, 65.

Bed, to be hard, 52.

Behaviour, how to be influ-
enced, 82.

Bias, natural, to be watched,

173.
Bible, indiscriminate reading

of, discountenanced, 192,

193.
Bible, selections to be made

from, 193, 194.

Capacity, juvenile, how to
be estimated, 202.

Capacity, juvenile, quenched
by fear, 203—205.

Captiousness, opposed to ci-
vility, 179.

Censoriousness, disagreea-
bleness of, 177.

Ceremony, oflensive, 180.

Chiding, bad effects of, 97.

Childishness, to be over-
looked, 74.

Chinese females, health of, 42.

Chronology, importance of,
222, 223.
ivility 1
cultivated, 154.

312

GENERAL INDEX.

Clothes, fashion of, 41.
" influence of, 42.

" pride of, 57.

Company, influence of, 84,
184, 185.

Complaints, children's, how
to be treated, 137.

Compulsion, not expedient,
96, 163.

Conclusion of treatise, 2oG.

Condiments, to be avoided,
44.

Contempt, insufferable, 177.

Contradiction, ungracious,
179.

Cookery, intemperate indul-
gence, occasioned by, 58.

Correction, ill-managed, evil
consequences of, 99.

Correction, indiscriminate,
ill effects of, 100.

Courage, how to be cultivat-
ed, 145.

Cowardice, influence of, 146
— how to be eradicated, 146
— causes of, 147.

Craving, not to be indulged,
60.

Cruelty, disposition to, to be
checked, 151.
" cherished by admi-

ration for warlike actions,
152, 153.

Crying, to be checked, 140 —
143.

Curiosity, to be encouraged,
135, 154, 155.

Dancing, advantages of, 81,
241.

Dejection, evils of, 65.

Diet, regulation of, 43.

Discourse, familiar, with tu-
tor, 126, 127.

Disgrace, influence of, 71.

Disposition, influence of, 93,
95.

Disputatiousness, disagree-
able and ridiculous, 184.

Dominion, passion for, early
formed, 130.

Drawing, importance of. 195.

Drink, to be taken along with
food, 46 — strong, evils of,
48 — offered by servants to
children, 48.

Drinking, frequent, disadvan-
tages of, 47.

Eating, frequent, injury of,

44.
Education, influence of, 33

— whether to be public or

private, 84 — 91 — its chief

aims, 169.
English, culpable neglect of,

2.30.
Equivocation, early taught,

38.
Ethics, reading in, 224.

GENERAL INDEX.

313

ExAMPLE,influenceof,91,104.
Excuses, how to be received,

168, 169.
Exposure, advantages of, 35.

Familiarity, parental, 124 —
benefits of, 124—126.

Feet, bathing of, 36, 37.

Fencing, occasional evil con-
sequences of, 243.

Flesh, use of, to be avoided
in infancy, 43.

FooL-HARDiNESs, how to be
managed, 143, 144.

Free-livixg, evils of, 59.

French, early learning of, re-
commended, 196.

Fruit, use of, 48 — kinds to be
used, 49.

Gardening, a useful form of
exercise, 246.

Geography, importance of,
219, 220.

Geometry, how far to be stu-
died in early life, 222.

Goblins, apprehensions of, to
be warded off, 171 — 173.

God, idea of, how to be im-
pressed, 170.

Good-breeding, how to be
attained, 175 — true nature
of, 176— value of, 113— to
be early attended to, 114 —
under a governor, 115.

Good-nature, to be cherish-
ed, 173.

Governor, importance of to
young children, 110, 111 —
qualifications of, 112 — chief
duties of, 121.

Grammar, when to be studi-
ed, 206 — to whom necessa-
ry, 207—210.

HABiTS,a safeguard, 41 — pow-
er of, 76.

Hardiness, how to be attain-
ed, 149 — 151— Spartan, ex-
ample of, 149.

Harm, accidental, not to be
ground of reproof, 153.

Head, covering of, 36.

Health, importance of, 34 —
short rule for, 34.

Highlanders, Scotch, hardy
habits of, 39.

Horace's practice of ba tiling,
38.

Humouring, ill consequences
of, 55.

Indulgence, bad effects of,
56.

Influence, early of parents,
54.

Inquiries, children's, how to
be answered, 155 — 157.

Inquisitiveness, to be cher-
ished, 158.

314

GEVXRaL i.vdex.

IsTERRCPTiox, habit of, to be
discouraged, 1>^, 183.

Jews, German, hardv habits
of, 39.

JoiXERr, useful for exercise,
246.

Justice, regard for, to be cul-
tivated, 13^, 139.

K.vowLEDGE, of the worfd,
necessary to a tutor, 11-5 —
necessary for the safetv of
voung persons, 117 — 119 —
comparative value of. 119 —
123.'

Manual trade, importance of ,
344.

Ma55ebs, how to be learned,
80 — how to be estimated, 81 .

Meals, not to be too regular,
46.

Mexoriter recitation, unne-
cessary, 21-5 — 217.

Method, value of, 230.

MivD, influence of education
on, 54.

Music, to what extent to be
applied to, 241.

Natural Philosopht. meth-
od of studvinsr. 231.

Lativ, use of, 197, 19^ —
how to be taught, 199— 2>5
— elementary exercises in,
210, 211— method of trans-
lating. 21S. 219.

Law, civil, books on, to be
studied, 224.
English, importance of
a knowledge of, 225.

Lear5I5g, true value of. 1^5,
1^.

Letters, abihty to write, im-
portant. 229.

Lvi VG. how to be treated. 167.
168.

Malta, habits of the people
of. as.

0b;ti5acv, apparent, not al-
ways real; 101 — how to be
punished, 98 — example of
punishment, 99.

PAi}fTi5G, imsuitable as a re-
creation, 246.

Pertsess, to be discouraged,
158.

Phvsic, tampering with, to be
avoided, .52.

Phtsicia.v, when needed, 53.

Plat, satiety of, sometimes
useful, 163, 164.

Plat-games, to be sparingly
used, 165—167.

PLAT-THiycs, to be carefully
kept, ia5.

GENERAL INDEX.

315

\ Practice, frequent, benefit

of, 77.
Praise, influence of, 70.
Prohibitio.v, unnecessary,

bad effects of, 107.
PcsisHME.vT, kind of, 63 —

application of, 92.

Raillerv, to be re.strained,
178.

Reading, how to be taught,
18^5—101.

Reasoning, as a means of
correction and improve-
ment, 103.

Recreation, to be consulted,
135, 13<:;— nature of, 248.

Reputation, love of, saluta-
n-, 70, 73.

Reverence, filial, how form-
ed, 128.

FvEwards, pernicious influ-
ence of, 67 — injudicious
choice of, 60.

Rhetoric and Logic, con-
nexion of, 22G.

Rising, early, enjoined, 50.

Romans, meals of, 44.

Roughness of maimers, re-
pulsive, 177.

Rules, inefficacy of, 75 — to
be few, 76.

Sauntering, how to be treat-
ed, 159, 162.

Scythian, answer of to an

Athenian, 35.
Self-denial, necessity of,

64.

Shame, influence of, 72.

Servants, injurious influence
of, 71, 83.

Short-hand, use of, 196.

Sleep, not to be stinted in
early childhood, 50 — quanti-
ty of, may be regulated at
a suitable time of life, 51 —
never to be abruptly broken
off, 51.

Solon, opinion of, in regard
to custom, .5.5.

Spirits, apprehensions of, to
be avoided, 171 — 173.

Strife, how to be prevented,
136.

Style, in what manner to be
early formed, 228.

SupPBR, food for, 43.

Swimming, Roman estimation
of, 39.

Tasks, injurious, 93.

Temper, individual, to be ob-
served, 129.

Temptation to indulgence,
caused by food, 58.

Themes, writing of, discour-
aged, 211—213.

316 GENERAL INDEX.

TiMOROusNESS, causes of, 148 Well, St. Winifred's, virtues

—cure of, 148. of, 39.

Travel, how to be managed. Whipping, how to be regu-

252. lated, 105— 108— rarely to be

Tutor, office and treatment resorted to, 105, 106 — an

of, 109 — example of, 109, arbitrary form of punish-

110 — qualifications of, 112. ment, 107.

Wisdom, to be distinguished

Versifying, discouraged, 213, from cunning, 174, 175.

214. Writing, how to be taught,

Vice, early taught, 57. 194.

MILTON.

Defects of education, 273 — Instruction, rhetorical 281.

their consequences, 274. Introduction, 271, 272.

Diet, plainness and modera-
tion in, recommended, 285. Law, course of reading in,

Dramatic writings, study of, 280.
280.

Music, influence of. 283.

Edifices for education, 276.

Education, complete, 276. Poetry, study of, 281.

End of Learning, 273. Politics, course of, 280.

Excursions, usefulness of,

284. Studies, course of, 277 — 279.

Exercise, physical, 282.

Theology, elementary course

Instruction, moral, 279. of, prescribed, 280.

GENERAL I>-DEX. 317

APPENDIX.

Books, selection of, inipor- Mind, different states of, to
tant, 309. receive due attention, 298.

299.
Coxv£RSATio-\, uses of, 309. Meditation, benefits of, 309.

Disputation, art of, nugato- Opinions, of others, influence
rv, 290. of, requires limitation, 291,

292.

Evidence, kinds of, to receive

due attention, 307, 308. Prudence, essential to use-

ExTREMEs, to be avoided, 306. fulness, 295.

Heaven, importance of the Reading, injudicious, ill ef-

knowledge which leads to fects of, 303, 304.

it, 295.

History, injudicious study of. Scheme of sciences, useful,

293, 294— proper use of, 310. 308.

Sects, influence of, unfavour-

Inquiries, useless, a hin- able, 300 — 303.

derance, 294, 295. Self-observation, import-

Investigation, proper limits ance of, 309.

of, 306, 307. Study, end of, 289— to be
limited by health, 296—

Kkoavledge. end of, 289— 298.

extent of, 289, 290 — most Style, regard to perfection

direct road to, desirable, of, sometimes detrimental,

290. 292,293.

i