lr*ss Serbs,
SOME THOUGHTS
CONCERNING
EDUCATION o-
BY
JOHN LOCKE / ;
WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES
BY
THE REV. R. H. QUICK, M.A.
TRIlN- COLL. CAMB.; SOMETIME ASSISTANT MASTER AT HARROW;
AUTHOR OF "ESSAYS ON EDUCATIONAL REFORMERS."
SECOND EDITION.
EDITED FOR THE SYNDICS OF THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.
AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.
SonDon: C. J. CLAY AND SONS,
CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE,
AVE MARIA LANE.
1889
[All ftights reserved.]
Doctrina vires promovet insitas,
Rectique ctdtus pectora roborant :
Utcumque defecere mores,
Dcdccorant bene nata culpa.
HOR. Lib. iv. Od. 4.
CAMBRIDGE : I RINTED BY C. J. CLAV, M.A. AND SONS, AT THE UNIVKRSI T y PRESS.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
TABLE OF PASSAGES NOT IN FIRST EDITION
PREFACES .
INTRODUCTION (Biographical).
Locke born at Pensford, 1632 xix
At Westminster school, 1646 1652 .... xix
An undergraduate at Christ Church, Oxford, 1652 1655 xxi
Oxford life in i7th century xxi
Locke s repugnance to Oxford philosophy and disputations xxi
Locke tutor of Christ Church, 1660 .... xxii
Goes to Cleve with Str W. Vane, 1665 .... xxiii
At Oxford again, 1666 ....... xxiii
Studies medicine ........ xxiv
Acquaintance with Lord Ashley, 1666 .... xxiv
In Lord Ashley s family, 1667 1675 . . . . xxiv
Cures Lord Ashley xxiv
Finds a wife for young Ashley ..... xxv
Locke s habit of writing ...... xxv
* Locke s theory of life xxvi
Intercourse with Sydenham ...... xxvii
Locke against hypotheses in medicine .... xxvii
Locke made Secretary of Presentations, 1672 . . . xxix
Delenda est Carthago xxix
Locke buys an annuity . . . . . . xxx
Residence in France, 1675 1679 . . . . . xxx
A new pupil, Banks . . . . . . . . xxx
Logic before mathematics xxxi
iv Contents.
PAGE
Locke returns to Lord Shaftesbury, 1679 . . . xxxii
Locke s share in educating Lord Shaftesbury s grandson . xxxii
Locke at Oxfoid again, 1682 ...... xxxiv
Locke s exile in Holland, 1683 1689 .... xxxiv
Is deprived of his studentship, 1684 .... xxxv
His extradition demanded, 1685 ..... xxxv
He is "pardoned," 1686 xxxv
Friendship with Le Clerc ...... xxxv
Locke begins to publish ...... xxxv
Epitome of the great Essay appears .... xxxv
Origin of Thoughts on Education ..... xxxvi
Returns to England with Queen Mary, 1689 . . . xxxvii
Locke is offered ambassadorship ..... xxxvii
He settles at Gates, 1692 . . . . . . . xxxviii
His public functions ....... xxxix
Correspondence with W. Molyneux .... xxxix
Locke publishes Thotights on Education, March, 1693- . xl
An enfant terrible xlii
Locke s scheme of " Working Schools " . . . xliii
Locke and Newton . xliv
The Essay at the Universities ..... xlv
Locke s last days .... ... xlv
His death, Oct. 27, 1704 ...... xlvi
INTRODUCTION (Critical).
Three sources : i. Experience. 2. The working of other
minds. 3. The working of one s own . . . xlvi
Unconscious influence of experience .... xlvi
Locke s belief in reason xlvii
Need of learning from others ...... xlviii
Locke and previous writers ...... xlviii
Arnstaedt s succession : Rabelais, Montaigne, Locke,
Rousseau ........ xlix
Rabelais and "Realism" ...... 1
Montaigne on true knowledge, and on the true place of
knowledge after virtue and wisdom ... 1
Locke s study of Montaigne ...... li
"Education before instruction" ..... li
Locke wrote for "gentlemen" ..... lii
Contents. v
PAGE
Importance of physical education . . . . . lii
Locke s other Four Requisites liii
Locke on importance of habit ..... liv
Locke on influence of companions ... . . liv
The Tutor Iv
Locke on "learning" ....... Iv
Cardinal Newman accuses Locke of neglecting cultivation
of the mind Ivi
The charge groundless ....... Ivi
Locke and " Realism " Ivii
Hallam on Locke ........ Iviii
Points of agreement between Montaigne and Locke . lix
EPISTLE DEDICATORY Ixi
SOME THOUGHTS CONCERNING EDUCATION.
SECT,
i 5. Hardening the body i
5,6.
Not too warm clothing
. . 3
6,7-
Wet feet . .
. 4
7-
Cold water .....
. . . 5
79-
Swimming. Open air
6
9, 10.
Caution established by habit
"7.
II, 12.
Against tight lacing
. . .8
12 14.
Diet
9
IJ.
Meals . . . . .
10
14, 15-
Meals ......
n
1518.
Drinking .....
12
1 8 20.
Against strong drinks
3
2O, 21.
Fruit .....
14
21.
Sleep
15
21, 22.
Sleep and bedding ....
. . 16
23, 24-
Action of the bowels ...
17
2427.
Action of the bowels
. . 18
2729.
Medicine .....
. 19
20 32.
Mind formed by Education
20
*y o"
3235-
Self-denial must be taught early
21
35, 36-
Spoiling children and its results
22
36, 37-
Training in cruelty and vanity
.23
vi Contents.
SECT. PAGE
37. Training in lying and intemperance ... 24
37, 38. Safeguard in early training to self-denial . . 25
38, 39. Do not reward importunity ..... 26
39 41. Parent and Child ....... 27
4143. Father and Son 28
43 45. How to avoid Punishments ... .29
46 48. Against corporal punishments .... 30
49 5 2 - Harm from Severity . . . . . .31
52, 53. Harm from injudicious rewards .... 32
53 55- Rewards and Punishments 33
55 58. Right management of praise and blame ... 34
58, 59. Difficulty from Servants ...... 35
60, 61. The sense of Shame ...... 36
61 63. Praise in public, Blame in private. Childishness . 37
63 65. Practice rather than Precept 38
65, 66. Few Rules ........ 39
66. Nature. Affectation / 40
66. What is Affectation ? /. / . . . .41
66, 67. Manners. Dancing \X . . / . . . .42
67. Children and Manners . / -43
67, 68. Manners acquired by Imitation v .... 44
68 70. Dangers from Servants. Child to be much with Parents 45
70. Home versus School 46
70. Bashfulness better than Vice 47
70. The Schoolmaster powerless for conduct ... 48
70. Manners best learnt at home ..... 49
70. Prevailing Dissoluteness and its cure ... 50
70, 71. Example. Pueris reverentia . . . . -51
71 73. Lessons should not be Tasks ..... 52
73,74. Seasons of Aptitude and Inclination 53
74, 75. Mind must gain self-mastery ..... 54
75, 76. How learning is made displeasing 55
76 78. Against passionate Chiding ..... 56
78. Obstinacy needs the Rod ..... 57
78. The Rod for Stubbornness only .... 58
7880. Faults not of the Will .... -59
80, 8 1. Appeal to Reason ....... 60
81, 82. Reason. Examples ...... 61
8284. Rules for the Rod 62
Contents. vii
SECT. PAGE
84. Punishments come of neglect or over-indulgence . 63
84 86. Show surprise at sin. Must Rod teach ? 64
87. The Incorrigible . . 65
88 90. Tutors must have and deserye Respect ... 66
90, 91. Importance of the Tutor \/. . . . . .67
91 93. Choice of Tutor v .68
93. Good Breeding essential . . / . . . .69
93. The Tutor must see to Manners v / / -7
93,94. Teaching knowledge of the World v. / . . . 71
94. Dangers from ignorance of the World V ... 72
94. Forewarned, forearmed ...... 73
94. Breeding before Booklearning 74
94. True function of the Tutor /. . -75
94. " Non vitse sed schoke discimus " /. . . 7^
94. Get Man of the World for Tutor J . . . - 77
94 96. Father and Son 78
96, 97. Friendship of Father and Son 79
97, 98. Father s Friendship. Exercising Reason ... 80
98,99. Against " Disputations ". Secure Reverence . .81
99 102. Study the Child s Character ..... 82
102 105. Child loves Liberty and Power 83
105 107. Children must not be Choosers 84
107. Those that ask shall not have 85
107. Teaching of Self-restraint ...... 86
107, 108. Curiosity encouraged. Amusements .... 87
108, 109. Free Recreations. Mutual Civility .... 88
109, no. No tale-bearing. Reward Liberality . ... 89
no. Education in Justice 90
no 112. Crying 91
112, 113. Stomachful Crying 92
113, 114. Stop Whining 93
114, 115. Cases of Fool-hardiness 94
115. True Courage 95
115. Cowardice due to Education 96
115. What is Fear ? 97
115. Education to Courage 98
115. Hardening by voluntary Pain 99
115, 116. How Courage may be trained 100
116. Prevent Cruelty and Mischief 101
viii Contents.
SECT. PAGE
116,117. Cruelty not from Nature but Habit . . . .102
117, 118. Manners to Servants. Curiosity again . . . 103
1 18 120. Knowledge a Pleasure 104
1 20. Children s Questions ...... 105
1 20 123. Children s Reasoning . . . . . .106
123, 124. Sauntering 107
124,125. How to deal with Listlessness ..... 108
125 127. Implant desire of some gain, or give Hand-work . 109
127 1-29. Set Tasks of Play no
129. Play or Work? . . . . . . .in
129, 130. Playthings . . . . . . . .112
!3i I 3 1 - Educational Use of Games . . . . .113
131,132. Lying and Excuses 114
132 135. Seem to trust. The Four Requisites . . . 115
T 36, 137- Virtue. First Teaching about God . . . .116
138. Bogey makes Cowards. An Anecdote . . . 117
138.139. Trust in God. Truth. Good-nature . . .118
139.140. Correct the Bias. \Visdomv.Cunning . . .119
140 142. Good Breeding^* . . . . . . .120
142,143. Good and Ill-breeding analysed .... 121
143. Ill-breeding analysed. Rallying . . . .122
143. Contradiction. Captiousness . . . . -123
143 145. Over-civil 124
145. Children s Politeness simple 125
145. Rudeness of Interrupting ...... 126
145. Modest carriage. Rudeness in high life . . .127
145 147. Influence of Companions. Learning. . . .128
147, 148. Learning needful but subordinate . . . .129
148,149. No Compulsion : make Learning Sport . . -130
149 151. Games for teaching Reading . . . . -131
151 155. Games for Reading ....... 132
Z 55> J 5^- Amusing Books with Pictures 133
156 158. Learning by Heart. The Bible .... 134
158,159. Learning by heart from the Bible .... 135
159 161. Writing. Drawing/ ....... 136
1 6 1, 162. How much Drawing. Shorthand . . . -137
162 164. French. Latin .N/ 138
164 1 66. Latin without Grammar .... 139
166, 167. Begin with Knowledge of Things .... 140
Contents. ix
SECT. PAGE
167. Art of Teaching 141
167. Children s Attention 142
167. Attention lost by Harshness 143
167. Deal gently with Children ..... 144
167, 1 68. Language-learning without Grammar . , -145
1 68. Grammar, by whom needed . . . . .146
168. Grammar of the Mother Tongue .... 147
168. Grammar, when to be taught ..... 148
168 170. Words and Things. No Latin Themes . . . 149
170 172. Against Latin Themes 150
i? 2 > X 73- Speaking extempore. English Themes . . . 151
73 74- ^ Steps to Parnassus ...... 152
174 176. Against much learning by heart . . . 153
176. Memory a natural Gift 154
176, 177. How to exercise Memory 155
177, 178. Latin Bible. Tutor again ..... 156
178 180. Use of the Globes. Arithmetic .... 157
180, 181. Astronomy. Geometry 158
181 183. The Globes. Chronology 159
183 185. History. Ethics 160
186, 187. Gentleman s Study of Law 161
188, 189. Rhetoric and Logic. No "Disputations" . . 162
189. Against School-Rhetoric 163
189. Exercises in Speaking and Writing . . . .164
189. Neglect of the Mother Tongue 165
189, 190. Foreign Examples. Natural Science . . . 166
190, 191. Spirits and Bodies. Study of Bible .... 167
191, 192. Danger of Materialism 168
192, 193. Systems of Natural Philosophy 169
193 195. Boyle. Newton 170
195. No Greek. La Bruyere for Languages . . . 171
195. Choice of Tongues. Study Originals /. .172
195. Method in Study (j 173
195 197. Known to Unknown. Dancing. Music \// . . 174
197, 198. Recreation. Fencing. Riding . . -v . .175
198, 199. Fencing and Wrestling 176"
199 202. Prudentia. Learn a Trade . . . .177
202 204. Manual Arts. Painting, &c. No Compulsion 178
204 206. Gardening. Ancient Examples. . . . .179
Contents.
SECT.
PAGE
206, 207. Recreation in Change. Gaming ~J .
. 180
. 181
208 210. Other manual Arts ....
. 182
210,211. Use of keeping Accounts .
211,212. Right Time for Travel?
212 214. Wrong Time for Travel
214 216. Gain from Travel ....
216,217. Scope of this Treatise
217. Conclusion .....
. . . 183
. . 184
. 185
. 186
. . . 187
. 188
APPENDIX A. Locke s scheme of " Working Schools "
. 189
APPENDIX B. Locke s other writings on Education.
NOTES . .
"Of Study" 191
2O.I
INDEX
238
LOCKE S ADDITIONS TO THE ORIGINAL WORK*.
The following passages differ from the first edition (1693): those
between quotation-marks were added :
5. "An eminent Instance be too warm: And"
7. "How fond Mothers ice in it."
13. "it ought to be young Master must needs have."
14. Small alterations, and "The Romans Sun-set:" added.
15. "and grow peevish every Day." "For thus un
healthy." The rest re-written.
21. On Sleep. "Tho 1 I have said" to end of section.
37. Added.
62. Added.
66. "This Method" to end of section.
67. "if when their Governor." "What I have said
as they grow up."
70. "Being abroad" to end of section.
* In the earlier copies of the Cambridge edition I gave a list which I had made
too hastily and have since found to be imperfect. R. H. Q. 15 Dec. 1886.
Locke s Additions to the Original Work, xi
77. "Passionate chiding" to end of section.
78. "The Pain of the Rod keep it."
88. "at least till and therefore" in 89.
93. Added.
94. Added.
98. Added.
106. Rewritten.
107. First part added. From "My Meaning," rewritten.
108. "How ever strict" to end of section.
109. Partly rewritten.
no. ( 105 of first ed.) " If Liberality " to end of section.
113. Small alteration.
114. Small alterations.
115. Added.
117. Added.
125. Small variation.
126. Rewritten.
130. "One thing" to end of section.
136. "And I am apt " to end of section.
143. "It is a disposition" to end of section.
145. ( 138 of first ed.) "Tho children" to end of section.
156. "These baits nothing," rewritten.
161. Short-hand added.
167. "In teaching of children" to end of section.
168. "It will possibly be asked" to end of section.
169. "But whatever" to end of section.
176. Added.
177. " But of this " to end of section.
180. "When this is done true in itself."
189. "There can be scarce" to end of section.
195. "To conclude" to end of section.
205. Added.
207. Rewritten.
Xll
PREFACE.
THE Germans, who hitherto have had the history of
education in their own hands, have uniformly attributed an
important part in it to one Englishman and one only the
philosopher Locke; and their first well-known historian,
F. H. Ch. Schwarz, has asserted that "modern pedagogy is
more or less directly [a safe form of statement] the pedagogy of
Locke. Die Pddagogik und Didaktik der neuen Zeit isl die
Locke* sche, mehr oder iveniger folgerecht 1 " (quoted by Herbart,
Pad. Schriften ii. 329 in Beyer s BibiiotheK). But so little has
been thought of education in this country that our one classic
has never been carefully edited, and has now been for some
time "out of print." An inquiring student was lately told that
the only edition obtainable was the Tauchnitz. I have no
doubt there are American editions ; the whole work is certainly
to be found in Henry Barnard s English Pedagogy; but our
booksellers have not as yet had the enterprise or the good
fortune of Columbus.
It has lately occurred to at least two committees at once
that an English edition was wanted. There has been much
talk about education of late years ; and at length people are
beginning to perceive that some thought about it and study of
it may be desirable. The University of Cambridge has gone so
far as to institute an examination, so that for the future there
will be some young teachers who will find it useful to read the
chief English classic connected with their profession. This is,
I suppose, the reason why new editions, two at least, appear
about the same time. The National Society s edition is to be
1 Campe too says of Locke and Rousseau, "Sie machten Bahn;
wir Andern folgten,"
Preface. xiii
edited by the Rev. Evan Daniel. Unfortunately neither Canon
Daniel nor I knew of the other s work till too late, or we should
have avoided even the appearance of rivalry.
On examining the text I found that many errors had crept
into the only complete editions, i.e. the editions published after
Locke s death. The best text is that of the Works in 3 vols.
folio, issued in 1714 by Locke s own bookseller, Churchill. But
this is by no means faultless. It even gives a wrong date (1690
instead of 1693) at the foot of the Epistle Dedicatory. I have
corrected many inaccuracies, but I fear not all.
Hallam speaks of Locke s "deficiencies of experience," but
neither Hallam nor anyone else could have known before the
publication of Mr Fox Bourne s Life what Locke s experience
was. I have endeavoured in the biographical introduction to
put before the reader all that we now can learn about it.
Locke s study of medicine is no doubt an advantage to the
ordinary reader, but it is decidedly the reverse to the ordinary
editor. However, I have turned this weak part of the notes into
a particularly strong one, by getting the help of Dr J. F. Payne,
Fellow of Magdalen College Oxford, Assistant Physician and
Lecturer at St Thomas s Hospital. Dr Payne tells us what the
science of the nineteenth century has to say to Locke s advice ;
and his notes are the more interesting from his having made a
special study of the history of medicine.
Locke showed the interest he took in the Thoughts by
adding to the editions which came out in his life-time, and by
leaving fresh matter which was added after his death. The
original work was not more than two-thirds the size of the
present. I have given a table from which the student may see
what the original work was. Some of the most important
passages in the book, e.g. the attack on the public schools, do
not belong to it.
R. H. Q.
TRIN. COLL. CAM.,
March iqth, 1880.
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.
SINCE the first Cambridge edition of the Thoughts came out
four years ago, Locke has received much attention both at home
and abroad. I will here mention the chief works bearing on
the Thoughts which have since been published.
Canon Daniel s edition was I believe before mine, but by a
few days only. In preparing this reissue I have resisted the
temptation to have recourse to his book. Readers who can
refer to it will find great assistance, especially from the notes
on Locke s language.
Had Dr Fowler s account of Locke s life (English Men of
Letters, Locke. Macmillans) been given us a little earlier, I
probably should not have prefixed one to this work. Dr Fowler s
description of Locke s later years will be found especially in
teresting: and these I have said little about. Our plans and
objects differed, and I have dwelt chiefly on Locke s connexion
with education. I am no doubt likely to exaggerate his im
portance as an educational writer; but according to Dr Fowler,
Locke himself, and indeed all Europe, have fallen into the same
error. But if Dr Fowler makes little of Locke the educationist,
Professor Fraser in the Encyclopedia Britannica (Locke*),
makes nothing at all.
On the Continent Locke is still reckoned among the great
educational reformers ; and, as M. Compayre tells us, Leibnitz
considered the Thoughts concerning Education a more im
portant book than the Essay on the Human Understanding.
Several continental writers have lately treated of Locke, es
pecially as an educationist. I wish I had known of M. Marion s
very interesting sketch of Locke s life (J. Locke, sa vie et son
Preface to the Second Edition. xv
ccuvre. Paris, 1878) when I wrote on the same subject in 1880.
M. Gabriel Compayre (who is now the historian of education
for those who do not read German, and for some who do also)
has published a French translation of the Thoughts (Quelques
Pense es, &c. Paris, Hachette, 1882) with Introduction and
notes. In these he seems to me to appreciate Locke more
highly and more justly than he has done in his greater work
Les Doctrines d 1 Education (Hachette, 2 vols.) 1 .
The only genuine attempt I have seen to find the true
connexion between Locke s thoughts on philosophy and on
education is in a little book by Herr Wilhelm Gitschmann, Die
Paedagogik des JoJin Locke (Koethen, Schettler, 1881). Her-
bart s is the philosophy now influential on education in Germany,
and Locke is judged by Herr Gitschmann from this latest
standpoint.
Perhaps I should say a word on the conclusions to which
the study of the books named, and also further acquaintance
with Locke, have brought me. Sir William Hamilton (quoted
in a good article on Locke in Edinburgh Review, vol. 99,
April 1854) says: "Locke is of all philosophers the most figu
rative, ambiguous, vacillating, various and even contradictory."
To hear Locke spoken of as an ambiguous writer, is to say the
1 Take the following passage in proof of this : " En effet le progres
de la pedagogic moderne sur la vieille pedagogic, au point de vue de la
direction de la volonte comme au point de vue de la developpement de
1 intelligence, consiste surtout en ceci qu elle fait de plus en plus effort
pour eveiller et mettre en oeuvre les energies naturelles de 1 esprit, pour
associer 1 enfant et son action personelle a 1 action de 1 educateur, en
un mot, pour faire de 1 education une ceuvre de developpement interieur,
une ceuvre du dedans, si je puis dire, et non un placage artificiel impose
du dehors. Locke a d autant plus de merite a professer ce principe
pedagogique que les prejuges de sa philosophic sensualiste semblaient
devoir 1 egarer dans la voie contraire, et 1 entrainer a exagerer la part
des influences exte rieures dans 1 education " (p. xxviii).
This passage has the rare merit of allowing Locke to think for him
self, and does not attribute certain philosophic theories to him, and then
make these theories dictate thoughts for him.
xvi Preface to the Second Edition.
least of it somewhat startling; but figurative he is ; and if a
small man may presume to judge a great, I should say he
sometimes allowed a figure to run away with him and carry him
further than his reason would have led him without the meta
phor. But perhaps this appearance of being vacillating, various
and even contradictory arises in part from his efforts to get at
the exact truth of the matter in hand, and not to bolster up
anything previously asserted either by himself or any one else.
He very much over-estimates, as it seems to me, the power
of the individual intellect to get at truth in everything without
even inquiring what had been thought and said by others.
He goes so far as to maintain to his friend Molyneux that two
honest men who would be at the pains to consider a matter of
speculation could not possibly differ. And when he had grown
old he lamented in a passage of singular pathos that he had
wasted his time in " thinking as every man thinks 1 ." And yet if
ever man s thought had not been content with the road-way it
was Locke s. Of the great "Essay" and his doctrines about the
mind he writes to Stillingfleet " I must own to your Lordship
they were spun barely out of my thoughts reflecting as well
as I could on my own mind and the ideas I had there." He is
extremely contemptuous towards those who are as he says
"learned in the lump by other men s thoughts, and in the right
1 " When I consider how much of my life has been trifled away in
beaten tracks where I vamped on with others only to follow those who
went before me, I cannot but think I have just as much reason to be
proud as if I had travelled all England and, if you will, all France too,
only to acquaint myself with the roads, and be able to tell how the
highways lie wherein those of equipage, and even the herd too, travel.
Now, methinks, and these are often old men s dreams I see openings
to truth and direct paths leading to it, wherein a little application and
industry would settle one s mind with satisfaction and leave no darkness
or doubt. But this is the end of my day, when my sun is setting : and
though the prospect it has given me be what I would not for anything
be without there is so much truth, beauty and consistency in it yet
it is for one of your age, I think I ought to say for yourself, to set
about." Locke to Bolde quoted by Fowler. Locke, p. 120.
Preface to the Second Edition. xvii
by saying after others." Herr Gitschmann then seems reason
able when he says that Locke s chief importance in education
arises from his revolt against custom and authority. Locke
does indeed write for those "who dare venture to consult
their own reason in the education of their children rather than
wholly rely upon old custom" (Thoughts, ad f.). He ridicules
those who let "custom stand for reason" (77z. 164). But
though use-and-wont has had almost undisputed sway in the
schoolroom, its authority has always been called in question by
writers on education, and there were several of these even in
England before Locke. Even schoolmasters (e.g. Mulcaster,
Brinsly and Hoole in England and Rollin in France) cannot
publish a book on the school course without suggesting many
alterations ; and writers who are not schoolmasters are almost
always revolutionary. So a revolt against custom was no novelty
first recommended by Locke.
But Locke s estimate (exaggerated estimate as I think it) of
the function of the reason led him to take a new view of educa
tion. Since the scholars of the Renascence found all wisdom
and beauty as they thought in the ancient classics, education has
been confounded with "learning" or "gaining knowledge." But
Locke s notion of knowledge differed widely from the school
master s. According to him knowledge is " the internal percep
tion of the mind " (L. to Stillingfleet. F. B. ii. 432). " Know
ing is seeing ; and if it be so, it is madness to persuade
ourselves we do so by another man s eyes, let him use ever so
many words to tell us that what he asserts is very visible. Till
we ourselves see it with our own eyes and perceive it by our
own understandings, we are as much in the dark and as void of
knowledge as before, let us believe any learned author as much
as we will " (C. of U. 24). So Locke in effect maintained that
the knowledge of the schoolroom was no knowledge at all, and
he despised it accordingly. Yet he did not entirely give it up.
His disciple Rousseau did so. Childhood and youth he would
have quite differently treated. The child s education is to be
mainly physical and no instruction is to be given till the age of
12. This at first sight seems in striking contrast with Locke s
Q. b
Preface to the Second Edition.
advice ; but there is a deep connexion between the two which is
not usually observed. If nothing be accounted knowledge which
is not gained by the perception of the reason, knowledge is quite
beyond the reach of children. What then can the educator do
for them? He can prepare them for the age of reason by caring
(ist) for their physical health, and (2nd) for the formation of good
habits. Among good habits industry holds a prominent place,
and the chief use of schoolroom studies is to cultivate industry.
This is certainly a new notion about learning ; and that it was
Locke s his own words prove : "The studies which [the governor]
sets [the child] upon are but as it were the exercises of his
faculties and employment of his Time, to keep him from saunter
ing 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" (Thoughts, 94, p. 75 ad f.). Thus
children are prepared only for intellectual education, and when
he is old enough for that education every youth and young man
must be his own teacher. Locke has indeed written a book on
intellectual education, but this is not the Thoughts it is the
Conduct of the Understanding^-.
R. H. O.
SEDEERGH VICARAGE, YORKSHIRE,
Jan. 23, 1884.
1 All my references to this are to the Oxford edition of Dr Fowler,
a little book which no one concerned with intellectual education should
be without.
INTRODUCTION
BIOGRAPHICAL 1 AND CRITICAL.
THE philosopher, JOHN LOCKE, was born at Pensford, a
village six miles from Bristol, A. D. 1632. Though in bad
health the greater part of his life he reached the age of 72,
and died in the autumn of 1704. Of his early days we know
little. He was not, like most great men, "his mother s
child." Throughout his life the reason seems to have en
croached in him on the affections ; and this we may attri
bute to the absence of female influence. We know nothing
of his mother, and all that he told his friend, Lady Masham,
about her was that she was "a pious woman and affectionate
mother." The family consisted of John, the first child, and
Thomas, born five years later. There were no other children,
and the mother may have died young. The father was the
ruling spirit, and in those troubled times he was a stirring
man abroad as well as at home. A lawyer by profession
he took up arms in the cause of the Parliament, and so became
" Captain Locke."
The Captain used his influence with the victorious party
to get his son into Westminster School, and thither the boy,
who had till then been brought up at home, was transplanted
at the age of fourteen (1646). Here he remained till he was
twenty, when he gained a Junior Studentship at Christ Church,
Oxford. Where was our Westminster scholar, a lad of
1 The references " F. B." are to H. R. Fox Bourne s Life of John Locke. 2 vols.
London, 1876.
xx Introduction.
seventeen, when Charles I. was gazing from the scaffold on
the crowd which reached almost to the school-gates? In
after years the philosopher found great fault with the ordinary
school course. " Non vitce sed scholtz discimus? he said,
quoting Seneca. But at Westminster in his day, life with
its fierce passions and grim tragedies came too near the
school-room to be neglected for Latin concords and quantities.
Locke at least never became absorbed by his school learning ;
nor was he in his right element either at Westminster or
Oxford. In his day the rod was wielded by Dr Busby, who
must have seemed indeed Dictator perpehius, for he was head
master from 1638 to 1695, a space of 57 years. Under him
Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and even Arabic, were the studies of
the place ; for Evelyn writes, nine years after Locke gained his
studentship : " I heard and saw such exercises at the election
of scholars at Westminster School to be sent to the Univer
sity, in Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and Arabic, in themes and ex
temporary verses as wonderfully astonished me in such youths,
some of them not above twelve or thirteen years of age. Pity
it is that what they attain here so ripely they either do not
retain or do not improve more considerably when they come
to be men, though many of them do." (F. B. i. 21.) We
gather from this passage that Locke was far above the average
age when elected. He had enjoyed those later years at school
which generally leave behind pleasant memories ; but no such
memories remained with him. He ridicules the notion that a
public school affords a good preparation for life ; and we see
his general impression of school-life in these words : MHow
any one s being put into a mixed herd of boys, and there
learning to wrangle at trap or rook" at span-farthing, fits him
for civil conversation or business, I do not see." (Infra, 70
p. 48.) Perhaps, like another of Westminster s most celebrated
scholars a hundred years afterwards, the poet Cowper, Locke
was of a shy disposition and " not good at games." Boys of
this kind are not popular ; and in a society where public
opinion is as powerful as it is at school, the unpopular can
hardly by any possibility be happy.
Biographical. xxi
Some of Locke s contemporaries, South, e.g., and Dryden,
found the art of wrangling useful in after life, and in business
very different from trap ; but Locke always maintained that
the aim of disputants should be to arrive at truth ; so the art
of arguing for party purposes, or for mere personal triumph,
an art in those days begun at school and carried to great
perfection at the University, was not according to the philo
sopher a desirable accomplishment.
Locke s peculiar view of the object of disputation gave him
a distaste for the logical course he was compelled to go through
at Oxford. We are told that " he never loved the trade of dis
puting in public in the schools, but was always wont to declaim
against it, as being invented for wrangling or ostentation rather
than to discover truth." However, he was not his own master
for the first seven years of his residence at Oxford, and the
discipline in the Puritan days was severe. Christ Church was
not then so pleasant a place of residence for undergraduates as
it has since become. Mr Fox Bourne gives us an. account of
an ordinary day s work, which must astonish the modern student.
Locke had to be in chapel at 5 a.m., when besides the prayers
tTiere was often a sermon. With an interval for breakfast his
time was then taken up till midday dinner with attendance at
the lectures of the Professors, or preparation for these lectures
with the College tutor. At dinner no language might be spoken
but either " Greek or Latin." In the afternoon came another
public lecture, and then the University deputations and decla
mations. In the evening he had again to attend chapel and
afterwards to go to his tutor s rooms for private prayers, and to
give an account of his day s occupations. This was his mode
of life till he got his Bachelor s degree in February, 1655.
Such a life must have been drudgery indeed to one who
rebelled against the logic and the philosophy then in vogue.
Imocke s opinion of Oxford logic may be seen jn iflft, jgq nf
tr^js work.__ As to the philosophy, he in after days complained
to his friend Le Clerc that " he had lost a great deal of time at
the commencement of his studies, because the only philosophy
then known at Oxford was the Peripatetic, perplexed with
xxii Introduction.
obscure names and useless questions." (F. B. i. p. 47.) Indeed
he found so "little light brought to his understanding," that he
regretted his father had sent him to the University, as he began to
fear that " his no greater progress in knowledge proceeded from his
not being fitted or capacitated to be a scholar." (Lady Masham,
quoted by F. B. i. p. 47. See also infra 166, p. 140, 11. 15 ff.)
Between taking his Bachelor s and his Master s degree
Locke had still to attend University lectures ; but he was free
from his tutor, so he had some time at his own disposal. The
discouragement he felt from his slow advance in the current
philosophy "kept him from being any very hard student," as he
told Lady Masham, "and put him upon seeking the company of
pleasant and witty men, with whom he likewise took great
delight in corresponding by letters ; and in conversation and
these correspondences he spent for some years much of his
time." (F. B. p. 53.)
In 1660 John Locke the father died, and the elder son came
into a small property. Of the younger son Thomas we know
nothing, except that he died of consumption soon after the
father. Locke had now taken his Master s degree and obtained
a Senior Studentship at Christ Church. He was friendly to
the Restoration, and seems for a while to have overcome his
dislike to the Oxford scheme of studies, for he became Tutor of
his College and the College Reader in Greek and in Rhetoric.
He no longer attributed the seeming obscurity of Oxford philo
sophy to his own want of penetration. He had studied Des
Cartes, and without becoming his follower had found him per
fectly intelligible. Locke had much in common with Des Cartes.
Des Cartes had been as little satisfied with the learning he
gained from the Jesuits at La Fleche, as Locke had been satis
fied with the learning of Westminster and Oxford, and like Locke
he had been driven to seek in society the wisdom he had not
found in the schools. With the study of Des Cartes began
Locke s interest in philosophy, but it was many years before
this turned him into an author.
He was now undecided about a profession. As a Senior
Student of Christ Church he would in the ordinary course have
Biographical. xxiii
taken Holy Orders ; and such doubts as trouble many philo
sophic minds in these days were unknown to Locke, who speaks
of the Bible with no less reverence than Luther himself.
But he decided against becoming a clergyman, and for some
time hesitated between the study of Medicine and public
affairs. In 1665 he was appointed secretary to Sir Walter
Vane, our ambassador to the Elector of Brandenburg, and he
went with the ambassador to Cleve. In the amusing letters he
wrote home to friends in England, we see that he was glad to
escape from the life of an Oxford don. " When I left Oxford,"
he says, " I thought for a while to take leave of all University
affairs ; but do what I can I am still kept in that track."
He then goes on to tell of some disputations of Franciscan
monks at which he had been present. " The moderator was
top-full of distinctions, which he produced with so much gravity
and applied with so good a grace that ignorant I began to
admire logic again, and could not have thought that simpliciter
et secundum quid materialiler et formaliler had been such
gallant things. * * The truth is, here hog-shearing is much
in its glory, and our disputing in Oxford conies as far short of
it as the rhetoric of Carfax does that of Billingsgate. But it be
hoves the monks to cherish this art of wrangling in its declining
age, which they first nursed and sent abroad into the world to
give it a troublesome idle employment." (F. B. i. pp. 115, 116.)
We see in these letters that his mind was even then at work
on questions of trade, the coinage and so forth, which he was in
later years much concerned with. He especially ridicules the
German coinage. A horseload of turnips, says he ; would ietch
two horseload of money.
This mission over, he was offered diplomatic service in
Spain ; but he declined it, and returned to Oxford. He was not
ambitious, and perhaps he found that his health would not stand
the wear and tear of public life. His settled conviction was
that " amidst the troubles and vanities of this world, there are
but two things that bring a real satisfaction with them, that is
virtue and knowledge." (F. B. i. p. 134; cfr. ii. p. 304, 11. 13 ff.)
Oxford offered him great advantages for the calm pursuit of
Introduction.
knowledge, especially for investigations in physical subjects, for
which a kind of school had been formed by his friend Boyle. So
he gave up diplomacy for medicine ; but an accident soon con
nected him again with public affairs and with education.
Many great men, as Horace tells us, are unknown to fame
because no sacred poet has been found to confer immortality on
them. Conversely many men who were not great can never be
forgotten because they are the subjects and indeed the victims
of celebrated epigrams. The Earl of Chatham who waited for
Sir Richard Strachan and for whom Sir Richard waited, is as
little likely to have his fame obscured as his illustrious father.
But after all it is rather the name than the man who is remem
bered in such cases ; and so it is with Dryden s " Achitophel,"
the first Lord Shaftesbury. His name is known to everyone,
but the man himself is known only to his biographer, Mr
Christie, and the few students of history who have patience to
read a large book about him. Everyone else forms a notion of
him from Dryden and Macaulay. Dryden was a professedly
party skirmisher and knew that he was not writing history.
Macaulay in this and in other instances thought he was writing
history when he was merely expanding an epigram. That
Shaftesbury s is not a name which deserves to be " by all suc
ceeding ages cursed," is almost proved by the fact that Locke
knew him intimately and esteemed him very highly. An acci
dent led to Locke s introduction to Shaftesbury, then Lord
Ashley, at Oxford, in 1666. Ashley saw at once that Locke
was no ordinary doctor, and he found such pleasure in his
society that he contrived to attach him to his family in an unde
fined position, partly as physician partly as friend. Locke at
this time did not shrink from responsibility as a doctor. Lord
Ashley was suffering from an internal tumour caused by a fall
from his horse. Locke undertook the delicate operation of
drawing off the matter by inserting a silver tube. The operation
was successful, and Lord Ashley believed himself indebted for
his life to his friend and physician.
In this family, duties still more delicate devolved on the
philosopher. He had great influence over the lives of the first
Biographical. xxv
three earls. Of these the first was "Achitophel" of whom I have
just spoken ; the second, a man of no further distinction than
his title gave him, was indebted to Locke partly for his educa
tion and entirely for his wife. The third Lord Shaftesbury, the
author of the Characteristics, was educated according to Locke s
advice during the lifetime of the grandfather, though he was
afterwards sent by his father to Westminster School. From
the literary lord we get the following particulars : " When Mr
Locke first came into the family my father was a youth of about
15 or 16. Him my grandfather intrusted wholly to Mr Locke
for what remained of his education. He was an only child, and
of no firm health, which induced my grandfather, in concern for
his family, to think of marrying him as soon as possible." (F.
13. i. p. 203.) The task of selecting a wife was left entirely to
Locke, who seems to have had plenty of moral courage, though
it has been hinted that he was not remarkable for his physical
courage. He went to Belvoir and "arranged a marriage" with
Lady Dorothy Manners, daughter of the Duke of Rutland, a
lady who although only twenty at the time of the wedding was
three years older than her husband. (See infra 216, p. 187,
11. 3 ff.)
But before giving an account of Locke s employments in the
family of Lord Shaftesbury, I should mention a habit he had
already formed at Oxford, the habit of writing out, for his own
eye only, his thoughts on subjects which particularly interested
him. This practice he continued through life, and in his old age
(6 Apr. 1698) he writes to his friend Molyneux : " I have often
had experience that a man cannot well judge of his own notions
till either by setting them down in paper or in discoursing them
to a friend, he has drawn them out and, as it were, spread them
fairly before himself." When he left Oxford for the family of
Lord Ashley in 1667 many MSS. were already in existence, some
of which were worthier of publication than his verses, the only
things of Locke s printed before the year 1686. The following,
which his first biographer, Lord King, gives among his Miscel
laneous Papers, was probably written early, and is interesting
as showing Locke s theory of life.
xxvi Introduction.
"Thus I think:
"It is a man s proper business to seek happiness and avoid
misery.
" Happiness consists in what delights and contents the
mind, misery in what disturbs, discomposes, or torments it.
"I will therefore make it my business to seek satisfaction and
delight, and avoid uneasiness and disquiet ; to have as much of
the one and as little of the other as may be.
"But here I must have a care I mistake not ; for if I prefer a
short pleasure to a lasting one, it is plain I cross my own happi
ness.
"Let me then see wherein consists the most lasting pleasure
of this life, and that as far as I can observe is in these things :
"ist. Health, without which no sensual pleasure can have
any relish.
" 2nd. Reputation, for that I find everybody is pleased with,
and the want of it is a constant torment.
" 3rd. Knowledge, for the little knowledge I have, I find I
would not sell at any rate, nor part with it for any other pleasure.
"4th. Doing good, for I find the well-cooked meat I eat
to-day does now no more delight me, nay, I am dis-eased after
a full meal. The perfumes I smelt yesterday now no more
affect me with any pleasure. But the good turn I did yesterday,
a year, seven years since, continues still to please and delight
me as often as I reflect on it.
"5th. The expectation of eternal and incomprehensible hap
piness in another world is that also which carries a constant
pleasure with it.
"If then I will faithfully pursue that happiness I propose to
myself, whatever pleasure offers itself to me I must carefully
look that it cross not any of those five great and constant
pleasures above mentioned.
"All innocent diversions and delights as far as they will con
tribute to my health and consist with my improvement, condition,
and any other more solid pleasures of knowledge and reputation,
I will enjoy, but no farther; and this I will carefully watch and
examine that I may not be deceived by the flattery of a present
Biographical. xxvii
pleasure to lose a greater." (Lord King s Life of Locke, 1829,
PP- 304 ff.)
While in Lord Ashley s family in London Locke was in
frequent intercourse with the great physician, Sydenham. The
traditional learning of the doctors pleased Locke as little as the
traditional learning of the schoolmasters or the University pro
fessors ; and he and Sydenham set about applying Baconian
principles to the study of medicine. Among his MSS. was
found, with the heading De Arte Medica, a brilliant onslaught
on the habit of being guided by hypotheses. " The beginning
and improvement of useful arts and the assistances of human
life," so he writes, "have all sprung from industry and observa
tion." But " Man, still affecting something of a deity, laboured
to make his imagination supply what his observation failed him
in ; and when he could not discover the principles and courses
and methods of Nature s workmanship, he would needs fashion
all those out of his own thought, and make a world to himself,
framed and governed by his own intelligence." (F. B. i. p. 225.)
Thus it had come to pass that the most acute and ingenious
part of men were by custom and education engaged in empty
speculations. The point that Locke urges with great emphasis
is that these speculations whether true or not are useless. " The
notions that have been raised into men s heads By" remote
speculative principles, though true, are like the curious imagery
men sometimes see in the clouds which they are pleased to call
the heavens ; which though they are for the most part fantastical,
aireU^tbest but the accidental contexture of a mist, yet do
really hinder sight, and shadow the prospect ; and though these
painted apparitions are raised by the sun and seem the genuine
offspring of the great fountain of light, yet they are really
nothing but darkness and a cloud ; and whosoever shall travel
with his eye fixed on these, tis ten to one goes out of his way"
(p. 224). Hence little good had come of learning, and "he that
could dispute learnedly of nutrition, concoction and assimilation,
was beholden yet to the cook and the good housewife for a
wholesome and savoury meal" (225, 226). The ordinary learn
ing deserved not the name of knowledge. "They that are
xxviii Introduction.
studiously busy in the cultivating and adorning such dry barren
notions are vigorously employed to little purpose ; and might
with as much reason have retrimmed, now they are men, the
babies they made when they were children as exchanged them
for those empty impracticable notions that are but the puppets
of men s fancies and imaginations, which however dressed up
are after 40 years dandling but puppets still, void of strength,
use or activity" (p. 226).
We see here the principles on which Locke doctored in Lord
Ashley s family. He cut himself completely adrift from the
ordinary methods, so much so indeed that in the Dedication
to Lord Ashley which Locke wrote for Sydenham s book on
Small-pox, Locke feels that he ought to stand on the defensive.
"At least, my lord," he writes, " I thought it reasonable to let
you see that I had practised nothing in your family but what I
durst own and publish to the world ; and let my countrymen
see that I tell them nothing here but what I have already tried
with no ill success on several in the family of one of the greatest
and most eminent personages amongst them." (F. 13. i. 232.)
What Locke s educational practice was we can only infer
from this book of Thoughts written some 20 years later ; but
Locke was no more attached (as we have seen) to the estab
lished system in education than in medicine, and he no doubt
innovated with equal boldness in both (cfr. F. B. ii. 11. 13 ff.).
The second Lord Shaftesbury turned out a stronger man in
body than was expected, but Locke s hardening system was
not tried upon him as a child ; and he was married while still
a youth. In this case Locke secured at best only one of his desi
derata : the mots sana was wanting in corpore sano.
At this time he seems to have intended keeping for life to
the profession of medicine : but his occupations in Lord Ashley s
family were very varied, including the settlement of " the Go
vernment of Carolina;" so that he could not get into pro
fessional habits : and before he reached his 4Oth year he was
attacked by the cough which made him an invalid the rest of
his days. His " carcase was made of a very ill composition," as
he himself wrote at this time; and residence in London was
Biographical. xxix
very trying to it. But as his friend and patron climbed higher
and higher to the eminence from which he at length fell head
long, he found more and more need for Locke s services. After
a short visit to France Locke was appointed in 1672 to the post
of "Secretary of Presentations," with a salary of ,300, by the
new Lord Chancellor, who was no more Lord Ashley but had
been created Earl of Shaftesbury. Locke s relations with the
nobleman had been hitherto those of intimacy. We see this
from the anecdote of Locke s notes of conversation. On one
occasion some celebrated men were the guests of Lord Ashley,
and all except Locke sat down to cards. Locke took a pencil
and wrote, and when Lord Ashley asked him how he was em
ployed, he said : "I have been looking forward to being present
at the meeting of such eminent men, nothing doubting but that
I should profit by their conversation. I have now put on paper
everything that has been said for half an hour, and I will read
it that you may judge whether I have had so great a benefit as
I had hoped." He then read a string of small observations
about the game. This, we are told, brought the game to an
abrupt conclusion. Here Locke was allowed the freedom of an
associate. But from the time of his appointment to the Secre
taryship he held a position which seems to us below the dignity
of so great a man. During term time he was expected to attend
prayers at seven and eleven every morning and at six every after
noon, and on every Sunday in the morning a sermon, and " on
Easter Sunday and Whit Sunday and Christmas Day a Com
munion." When the Chancellor drove out in state Locke with
the other Secretaries walked by the side of the coach, "and
when my lord went to take coach or came out of his coach "
they "went before him bareheaded." (F. B. i. 279.)
Unfortunately Locke s connexion with Shaftesbury, and
Shaftesbury s submission to the policy of the King compelled
the philosopher to act as prompter, standing behind the Chan
cellor when he made his discreditable speech in favour of war
with Holland for the furtherance of "British interests," and in a
nominally Christian senate revived the heathen cry " Delenda
est Carthago? (Cp. Seeley s Expansion of England p. 79.)
xxx Introduction.
But subservient as the Chancellor was when only the Dutch
were concerned, he could not adopt the policy of the Treaty of
Dover: and in November 1673 he was dismissed from office.
Locke thus lost the secretaryship, but not the work of a secre
tary. " When my grandfather quitted the court and began to
be in danger from it," writes the third Lord Shaftesbury, " Mr
Locke now shared with him in dangers as before in honours
and advantages. He entrusted him with his secretest negotia
tions and made use of his assistant pen in matters that nearly
concerned the State and were fit to be made public." (F. B.
i. 285.) Another secretaryship, that to the Council for Trade and
Foreign Plantations, had also been held by Locke with a nominal
salary of ,600 a year, but it did not prove a lucrative office,
as the salary, though fixed by Charles and granted "under
the Privy Seal" was never paid. Shaftesbury endeavoured to
provide for his friend by selling him an annuity of ,100 a year
at a moderate price, and this annuity was paid till Locke s
death.
In 1675 the state of Locke s health rendered it necessary
for him to seek a warmer climate, and he went to France,
where he spent the next four years (1675 9). Relieved from
the toil, the excitement, and the perils of party struggles, Locke
now turned again to the more congenial domain of abstract
thought. On his way back from Montpellier to Paris in the
spring of 1677, he made entries in his journal on the subject
of study, which, collected as they are by Lord King, form an
essay valuable in itself and extremely interesting to those who
are seeking for the ground-thoughts of the writer. (See
Appendix A.)
During this respite from politics Locke was again engaged
in education. His patron and friend "Achitophel" wrote to
him at the beginning of 1677 from the only place he could
then date from, " the Tower," to request him to take a new
pupil. " Sir John Banks, my intimate good friend, is sending
his son into France to travel about that country for four or
five months. He hath already learnt the French tongue, but
is very willing to let him see the manners of those people. :
Biographical. xxxi
Sir John intends to send him over to Paris about a fortnight
hence in the custody of Sir Richard Button who is going
thither, and there is very desirous, if you will undertake
that charge, to have him recommended to your care. In
order thereunto he begs the kindness of you to come and
meet him at Paris, where Sir R. D. is to deliver him up to
your care. As for the charges of your travels, Sir John is to
defray them, and will otherwise, as he saith, give you such
a reward as becometh a gentleman." Locke went to Paris
from Montpellier accordingly, and took charge of this pupil,
the son of a merchant, who from small beginnings "had
amassed," says Evelyn, ",100,000." The tutorship lasted
for nearly two years, but we have no particulars about it.
We do not even know the age of the pupil, but as " he had
already learnt the French tongue " he was probably in his
teens. He was old enough to begin mathematics, but Locke
found that he did not know the very rudiments of logic.
For disputations, as we have seen, Locke had the extremest
aversion ; but he seems to have thought logic necessary
before mathematics. To begin mathematics without any know
ledge of logic, he says, " is a method of study I have not
known practised, and seems to me not very reasonable" (Locke
to Banks, F. B. i. 378). From this correspondence we may
conclude I think that foreign travel was the finishing stage of an
education conducted " regardless of expense."
Locke now spent a good deal of time in Paris, and being
well known to the English Ambassador, Montague, he made
many acquaintances. His chief associates were men engaged
in scientific inquiry, and his own thoughts were much occupied
with physical science, as we see by his letters to Boyle and
by his questions about effervescence, to which Dr John Brown
has called attention in Hora Siibsetivce. He even undertook
the medical care of the English Ambassadress, the Countess
of Northumberland, and was more successful than the French
doctors had been.
At length in 1679 Locke after a tour about France with
his pupil (of whom we hear no more) was called back to
Introduction.
England to join Shaftesbury, no longer in the Tower, but
by a turn of the wheel again placed in office as Lord President
of the Council. Locke obeyed the summons, but he probably
expected little happiness or success from the change of affairs.
He wrote to his Paris correspondent Thoynard that he
"derived no pleasure from the prospect of returning to his
native land." (F. B. i. 409.) Perhaps this was partly on
account of his health. " I shall be well enough at my ease,"
he writes to Mapletoft, " if when I return I can but maintain
this poor tenement of mine in the same repair it is at
present without hope ever to find it much better." (F. B.
i. 407.) He had had some hopes of settling as Professor
of Medicine at Gresham College in Bishopsgate; but the post
did not fall vacant, and Locke started again in the whirlpool
of politics, which in those days soon sucked down to the
bottom all who managed to show themselves for a little while
at the top. After three years of plots and counterplots the
new Lord President s head was saved by the "Ignoramus" of
the Grand Jury, and he escaped to Holland, where he died
very soon afterwards. Locke had probably no knowledge of
the plot in favour of Monmouth ; but his connexion with
Shaftesbury was so close, and the Court party were such good
haters and so little under the restraints of law, that another
residence abroad became prudent, and Locke escaping to
Holland was an exile there from 1683 till he returned with
Queen Mary in 1689.
Before we go abroad with him we will see how he had been
employed in England. We need not concern ourselves with
his share in politics, but up to the time of Shaftesbury s fall
Locke had had his Lordship s private affairs as well as public
affairs to think of ; and among these, one which greatly interested
the old lord was the education of his grandson. When the
child was but three years old "Achitophel" induced the father
to give him up entirely, and from that time till the flight and
death of the grandfather the child was brought up under Locke s
directions. Locke engaged as a governess a Mistress Elizabeth
Birch, the daughter of a schoolmaster of that name, a lady
Biographical. xxxiii
possessing the unusual accomplishment of speaking Latin and
Greek. No doubt the child was to learn these languages
Latin at least colloquially; and as Locke nearly 20 years later
declares this to be the best method, perhaps it was tried with
some success as in the case of Montaigne. But Locke s absence
in France from 1675 to 1679 prevented his superintending the
experiment. The grandfather when in the Tower had perhaps
more time to attend to the child s education than he usually had
for domestic matters, and in 1677 we find him through his
secretary directing Locke to inquire in France about books for
him. " His Lordship desires you will inquire and let him know
what books the Dauphin was first initiated in to learn Latin.
He apprehends there are some books, both Latin and French,
either Janua-linguarums or colloquies ; and he also desires to
know what grammars. This he conceives may best be learnt
from those two printers that printed the Dauphin s books."
(Stringer to Locke, 16 Aug. 1677. F. B. i. 376, 7.) The child
at this time was between six and seven. He was nearly nine
when Locke returned, and he was then for three years entirely
under Locke s control. A house was taken at Clapham and
there Mistress Birch was established with the child, and Locke
paid them frequent visits. How close his attendance was we
may judge from a passage in a letter of his to the old lord. " I
have not had the opportunity this one day that I have been in
town to go and wait on Mr Anthony." (F. 6.1.424.) "Mr
Anthony," better known as the third Earl of Shaftesbury and the
author of the Characteristics , thus writes of his own early years :
" In our education Mr Locke governed according to his own
principles, since published by him, and with such success that
we all of us came to full years with strong and healthy constitu
tions my own the worst, though never faulty till of late. I was
his more peculiar charge, being as eldest son taken by my
grandfather and bred under his immediate care, Mr Locke
having the absolute direction of my education, and to whom,
next my immediate parents, as I must own the greatest obliga
tion, so I have ever preserved the highest gratitude and duty."
(F. B. i. 424) I cannot agree with Mr Fox Bourne that after the
xxxiv Introduction.
above assertion of the person best informed in the matter "there
is nothing to show that Locke had to do with any but the eldest
of the grandchildren," but after the death of the first earl Locke
had no influence with the second. Mr Anthony was no longer
brought up on Locke s principles, but a step was taken which
no doubt Locke would have done much to prevent the lad was
sent to Westminster School. Mr Fox Bourne surmises that the
lad was tormented by the boys as the grandson of a traitor ;
but in the public schools of days gone by it was probably far
better to be the grandson, or son even, of an outlawed nobleman
than of the most prosperous and respected tradesman. However
this may have been, the author of the Characteristics seems to
have been as little satisfied with the ordinary education of his
time as Locke himself, and he expresses nothing but contempt
for " pedants and schoolmasters."
We have now come to the most troubled period of Locke s
life. At the age of 50 and in wretched health he had six years
of exile before him, not in France, where the climate would have
suited him, but for safety s sake, in Holland, where the Govern
ment would not be so ready to give him up, or at all events to
find him if, as it actually turned out, the English Government
should demand him among the proscribed. After Shaftesbury s
escape Locke seems at first to have hoped that he would be
unmolested at Oxford. Under the date Oct. 24, 1682, his college
contemporary Prideaux writes : "John Locke lives very quietly
with us ; and not a word ever drops from his mouth that dis
covers anything of his heart within. Now his master is fled,
I suppose we shall have him here [z .e. at Christ Church] alto
gether. He seems to be a man of very good converse, and that
we have of him with content [sic] ; as for what he is, he keeps
it to himself, and therefore troubles us not with it nor we him."
(Letters of Humphrey Prideaux to John Ellis : edited by E. M.
Thompson for Camden Society, 1875, p. 134.) But with all his
caution Locke did not feel safe in England, so in the autumn of
1683 he crossed the Channel and took refuge in Holland.
Charles, finding he could not get at Locke, did all the mischief
that still lay in his power, and in his way of doing so showed
Biographical. xxxv
that it was well Locke had not trusted to the laws to protect him.
Charles compelled the Dean (the identical Dr Fell whose well-
known unpopularity has remained a mystery) to deprive Locke
of his studentship, and thus ended his connexion with Oxford.
From 1683 till 1685 Locke travelled about Holland, and
made the acquaintance of learned men, especially at Leyden:
but after the death of Charles II. and the Monmouth Insurrec
tion, a list of 84 "traitors and plotters against the life of James
II." was sent to the Dutch Government, and the last name on
this list was that of Locke.
Locke had now to spend some time in concealment, and only
two or three friends knew where he was. The Earl of Pembroke
and William Penn interceded with the King for a pardon, which
James promised if Locke would come to England ; but Locke
replied that he " had no occasion for a pardon, having com
mitted no crime." However, a pardon was granted in 1686.
Locke could now again move about freely, and have the
society of his friends. Among his new acquaintances was a
Genevese named Le Clerc, or, as he was often called in those
days of Latin correspondence, Clericus. By his new friend
Locke was induced to write for a magazine of which Le Clerc
was editor, the Bibliothcque Universelle; and thus at the age of
54 Locke began to give his thoughts to the world. Mr Fox
Bourne thus describes the change: " Hitherto we have found that
he was pre-eminently a student. Henceforth we shall find him
a humble, painstaking student still, but pre-eminently an author;
so zealous an author that the remaining eighteen years of his
life did not give him time enough to pour out for the world s
instruction all the old thoughts that he had been accumulating,
and all the new thoughts that took shape in a mind which
retained the vigour of its youth long after the body had grown
old." (F. B. ii. 45, 46.) The great work which has made Locke
famous, the Essay on the Human Understanding, had been
growing for some years. It was now nearly completed, and an
epitome of it appeared in Le Clerc s Bibliotltique Universelie.
Another work much less elaborate indeed, but, as it proved, of
no small importance, was in progress during these years of exile,
xxxvi Introduction.
though even the author hardly knew that he was writing it.
Locke from his first residence at Oxford had been a great letter-
writer. Now-a-days we do not know what a letter is. The late
Sir Rowland Hill has destroyed for most people the very con
ception of one, though indeed he only gave letter-writing the
coup de grace ; the practice could not long have survived the
general extension of railways. But in those days friends could
seldom meet, and the letter sent at sufficiently long intervals on
account of the high rate of postage was tht general means of
communication for those who had ideas and the wish to com
municate them. One of Locke s friends in England, Mr Edward
Clarke, of Chipley, near Taunton, was anxious for advice about
the bringing up of his son ; and as this problem had been much
in Locke s thoughts, the philosopher wrote from Holland a series
of letters on the subject, which, four years after his return to
England, he was induced to publish as Thoughts concerning
Education. No doubt the letters were more elaborate than
they would have been but for a notion in the writer s mind that
they might some day be used as material for a treatise ; but
they were written (to use Locke s own words on a similar
occasion) in " the style which is such as a man writes carelessly
to his friends, when he seeks truth, not ornament, and studies
only to be in the right and to be understood." (F. B. ii. 189.)
As he afterwards found no time to work up these letters into a
regular dissertation, he was content to publish them as Thoughts.
The work was a favourite one with him ; and he kept adding to
it as long as he lived. But as a literary work it suffered much from
being composed in this irregular and patchwork fashion. The
sentences are often very carelessly constructed ; and short as the
book is, it contains a good deal of tiresome repetition. But when
a mind like Locke s applies itself to an important subject, all
men are interested in the result; and the Thoughts concerning
Education has been hitherto the solitary English classic in
Pedagogy. We have now perhaps a second in the work of
Mr Herbert Spencer.
During the latter part of his stay in Holland Locke was
at Rotterdam, and in frequent communication with William
Biographical. xxxvii
and Mary at the Hague. They both of them had the penetra
tion to estimate Locke at his true value. William soon gave a
remarkable proof of this by offering him, as we shall see, one
of the highest and most important posts among our ambassa
dors ; and in later years the King honoured him in a right
royal fashion by sending for him to ask his advice when the
journey nearly cost him his life.
Thus the Revolution gave back to England the writer who
by his influence on European thought soon formed one of her
main intellectual ties with the Continent. Reviewing the five
years and a half spent in Holland, Locke writes to his Dutch
friend Limborch, " 1 know not how such a large portion of my
life could elsewhere have been spent more pleasantly. Certainly
it could not have been spent more profitably" (F. B. li. 85).
It was the old story. Dame Fortune had tried to do him a
bad turn, and had done him a good one. " Ilia premendo
sustulit? By giving him leisure she had assisted in making
a nobleman s private secretary one of the greatest men of the
age. Taking with him the MS. of the Essay on the Human
Understanding, and glad "to cross the Channel, crowded as
it is just now with ships of war and infested with pirates,
in such good company," Locke sailed from Rotterdam with
the Princess Mary and landed at Greenwich, Feb. I2th, 1689.
Within a week of his proclamation as King, William
endeavoured to send Locke as our ambassador to Prussia ;
but Locke declined. His main reason for his refusal was
the state of his health. "What shall a man do in the
necessity of application and variety of attendance on business
to be followed there, who sometimes after a little motion has
not breath to speak, and cannot borrow an hour or two of
watching from the night without repaying it with a great
waste of time the next day?" His second reason is a more
curious one. The ambassador to the Elector of Brandenburg
(there was no "King of Prussia" till twelve years later, i.e. till
1701) ought to be a man valiant to mingle or at least swallow
strong drink, and Locke felt himself wanting in this indispen
sable qualification. " I imagine," he writes, " whatever I may
Introduction.
do there myself, the knowing what others are doing is at least
one half of my business ; and I know no such rack in the
world to draw out men s thoughts as a well-managed bottle.
If therefore it were fit for me to advise in this case, I should
think it more for the King s interest to send a man of
equal parts, that could drink his share, than the soberest
man in the kingdom" (Locke to Lord Mordaunt, 21 Feb.,
16889. F. B. ii. 146).
The King however would hardly be persuaded to leave
Locke in peace. If Cleve and Berlin were too cold, would he
go to Vienna? or would he choose his own post? But Locke
was not to be flattered into diplomacy when he had the great
Essay concerning Human Understanding just ready for the
press. He now brought out the work with as little delay as
possible, and the booksellers had it early in 1690.
We have now come to the last period of Locke s life,
the fifteen years which followed his return from exile. During
this time Locke was able to do what he had never done before,
pass his days in a settled home. The home was indeed not
his own, but for a bachelor it was better than his own. Locke
had many years before this become acquainted with the Cud-
worths, i.e. the well-known writer Ralph Cudworth, his son
Thomas, and his daughter Damaris. The daughter was now the
second wife of Sir Francis Masham and the step-mother of Samuel
Masham, who became Lord Masham, and secured for his name
a place in English history by marrying Abigail Hill, the favourite
of Queen Anne. Sir Francis Masham, who was one of the county
members, lived at Gates, in the parish of High Laver, four
or five miles from Chipping Ongar in Essex. Locke s health
made residence in London, especially in winter, almost impos
sible, so he at length took refuge with his friends at Gates,
and securing his independence by paying his share of the
household expenses, he passed the rest of his days as a member
of their family. These were, as I have said, the days of his
authorship, and his pen was at work till the last. Besides
his literary employment he held offices which took him often
to London. From the time of his return to England he held
Biographical. xxxix
a post with light duties, that of Commissioner of Appeals ;
and from 1696 till 1700 he was a member of a new " Council
of Trade and Plantations," and as such he was much occupied
with the problems of what we now call political economy.
We however must confine ourselves to the humbler sphere
of education. We saw that Locke during his residence in
Holland had put his main ideas on this subject into a series of
letters to Mr Edward Clarke. At Gates his interest in educa
tion was revived by a fresh opportunity for experiment. In the
family were Lady Masham s step-daughter Esther, a girl of six
teen, and her own son Frank, a child between four and five.
Frank Mashamwas henceforth brought up according to Locke s
hardening system, with, as we are assured, the best results.
Locke was no mere theorizer of the study and library ; he
delighted in bringing his new notions in contact with experience.
Even when an exile in Holland he took so much interest in the
little son of a Quaker merchant of Rotterdam that in after years
the young man, by name Arent Furly, is spoken of by the third
Lord Shaftesbury as " a kind of foster-child to Mr Locke." To
his family of foster-children was now added Frank Masham ;
and doubtless the letters to Edward Clarke were referred to,
and the plans there suggested carried out. At this time Locke
had struck up a friendship by post with an Irish gentleman, Mr
William Molyneux, a friendship which lasted for six years before
the friends met. They did at last shake hands, and Molyneux
spent a few days at Gates ; but he died suddenly in the same
year soon after his return to Ireland. The correspondence was
opened by Locke in July, 1692 ; and in the following year we
find Molyneux urging Locke to publish his thoughts on educa
tion. He writes: "My brother has sometimes told me that
whilst he had the happiness of your acquaintance at Leyden you
were upon a work on the method of learning, and that too,
at the request of a tender father for the use of his only son.
Wherefore, good Sir, let me most earnestly intreat you by no
means to lay aside this infinitely useful work till you have
finished it, for twill be of vast advantage to all mankind as well
as particularly to me your entire friend. * * * There could no-
xl Introduction.
thing be more acceptable to me than the hopes thereof, and that
on this account : I have but one child in the world, who is now
nigh four years old and promises well. His mother left him to
me very young, and my affections (I must confess) are strongly
placed in him. It has pleased God by the liberal provision of
our ancestors to free me from the toiling care of providing a
fortune for him, so that my whole study shall be to lay up a
treasure of knowledge in his mind for his happiness both in this
life and the next. And I have been often thinking of some
method for his instruction that may best obtain the end I
propose. And now, to my great joy, I hope to be abundantly
supplied by your method." (W. Molyneux to Locke, March 2nd,
169!.) Here we see that Molyneux fell into the common snare
of supposing that a treasure of knowledge in the mind was the
main thing to be thought of in education. The book was to
expose this error. Three weeks later (28 March, 1693) Locke
writes to him that the work has gone to the printer at his
instance. " That which your brother tells you on this occasion,
is not wholly beside the matter. The main of what I now
publish, is but what was contain d in several letters to a friend
of mine, the greatest part whereof were writ out of Holland.
How your brother came to know of it I have clearly forgot, and
do not remember that ever I communicated it to any body there.
These letters, or at least some of them, have been seen by some
of my acquaintance here, who would needs persuade me twould
be of use to publish them : your impatience to see them has
not, I assure you, slackened my hand, or kept me in suspense ;
and I wish now they were out, that you might the sooner see
them, and I the sooner have your opinion of them. I know not
yet whether I shall set my name to this discourse, and therefore
shall desire you to conceal it. You see I make you my con
fessor, for you have made yourself my friend." (L. to W.
M., 28 March, 1693.) The book was indeed at first sent
forth without a name ; but no attempt was made to keep -the
secret. Pierre Coste in the preface to his French translation
published in 1695, says that the author is well known to be "the
great philosopher, Mr Locke," and Lojke himself in the later
Biographical. xli
editions put his name to the letter in which he dedicates the
book to Edward Clarke.
The author wishes his friend to give his unbiassed opinion ;
and accordingly in the next letter Molyneux takes exception to
Locke s rule that children should not have what they ask for,
still less what they cry for. The author, like most people who
ask for criticism, does not seem pleased with it when given. He
stoutly defends all he has written, and makes the most of inaccu
racies in the critic s account of it. Molyneux declares himself
satisfied, but his objection led Locke to explain his views on the
point at greater length in the second edition.
In the Molyneux correspondence there is much about educa
tion. In trying to carry out Locke s scheme Molyneux naturally
found some difficulty in securing the model tutor. He writes to
his friend to help him, and holds out a prospect which we must
suppose was in those days considered a good one, but which we
should not have thought good enough to draw the model tutor
so great a distance. " He should eat at my own table," writes
Molyneux, " and have his lodging, washing, firing and candle
light in my house, in a good handsome apartment ; and besides
this, I should allow him 20 per Ann." (W. M. to L., 2 June,
1694.) These terms seem to have tempted not an Englishman in
deed but a Scotsman ; and, says Locke, " the Scotch have now
here a far greater reputation for this sort of employment than
our own countrymen." (L. to W. M., 28 June, 1694.) However,
Molyneux engaged a tutor without after all going so far afield.
Locke was naturally anxious to learn how the experiment
succeeded, and he was gratified by good reports. On July 2nd,
1695, he writes to Molyneux: "I am extremely glad to hear
that you have found any good effects of my method on your son.
I should be glad to know the particulars ; for though I have
seen the success of it in a child of the lady, in whose house I am
(whose mother has taught him Latin without knowing it herself
when she began), yet I would be glad to have other instances ;
because some men who cannot endure any thing should be
mended in the world by a new method, object, I hear, that my
way of education is impracticable. But this I can assure you,
xlii Introduction,
that the child above-mention d [i.e. Frank Masham], but nine
years old in June last, has learned to read and write very well ;
is now reading Qitzntus Curtius with his mother ; understands
geography and chronology very well, and the Copernican system
of our Vortex ; is able to multiply well, and divide a little ; and
all this without ever having one blow for his book. The third
edition is now out ; I have order d Mr Churchill to send you one
of them, which I hope he has done before this. I expect your
opinion of the additions, which have much encreased the bulk of
the book." (L. toW. M., 2 July, 1695 ) In reply Molyneux sends
" a short account of his little boy s progress." We cannot help
wondering what the philosopher thought of it. Surely he must
have felt that Molyneux, while seeking to carry out his instruc
tions to the letter, had missed the spirit of them, and that the
Thoughts might after all be the innocent cause of the world s
being plagued with many an enfant terrible. This is what
Locke found that he was responsible for. " My little boy,"
writes Molyneux, " was six years old about the middle of last
July. When he was but just turn d five, he could read perfectly
well ; and on the Globes could have traced out, and pointed at
all the noted parts, countries, and cities of the world, both land
and sea : and by five and an half, could perform many of the
plainest problems on the Globe ; as the longitude and latitude,
the Antipodes, the time with them and other countries, &c. and
this by way of play and diversion, seldom call d to it, never chid
or beaten for it. About the same age he could read any number
of figures, not exceeding six places, break it as you please by
cyphers or zeros. By the time he was six, he could manage a
compass, ruler and pencil, very prettily, and perform many little
geometrical tricks, and advanced to writing and arithmetick ;
and has been about three months at Latin, wherein his tutor
observes, as nigh as he can, the method prescrib d by you. He
can read a Gazette, and, in the large maps of Sanson, shews
most of the remarkable places as he goes along, and turns to the
proper maps. He has been shewn some dogs dissected, and
can give some little account of the grand traces of anatomy.
And as to the formation of his mind, which you rightly observe
Biographical. xliii
to be the most valuable part of education, I do not believe that
any child had ever his passions more perfectly at command.
He is obedient and observant to the nicest particular, and at the
same time sprightly, playful, and active." (W. M. to L., 24
Aug., 1695.)
Recognizing as he did the " obligation of doing something,"
Locke was urged by his friends to new literary labours. Thus
he answers Molyneux when the friend proposed to him a work
on Morality : " You write to me as if ink had the same spell
upon me that mortar, as the Italians say, has upon others, that
when I had once got my fingers into it, I could never after
wards keep them out. I grant that methinks I see subjects
enough, which way so ever I cast my eyes, that deserve to be
otherwise handled than I imagine they have been ; but they
require abler heads and stronger bodies than I have, to manage
them. Besides, when I reflect on what I have done, I wonder
at my own bold folly, that has so far exposed me in this nice
and critical as well as quick-sighted and learned age. I say not
this to excuse a lazy idleness to which I intend to give up the
rest of my few days. I think every one, according to what way
Providence has placed him in, is bound to labour for the publick
good as far as he is able, or else he has no right to eat." (L. to
W. M., 19 Jan., 1693.)
It was no doubt this high sense of his duty to labour for
the public good which induced Locke to accept from the King
a post as Commissioner of " Trade and Plantations." We
must pass over his very important functions in this office
and mention only his proposals for the bringing up of the
children of paupers, proposals which though they were never
carried out have a great interest for students of the history
of education. For all pauper children over three years old
he schemed a training in " working schools," in which they
would both work and be fed, though the diet was to consist
simply of bread, " to which may be added without any trouble,
in cold weather, if it be thought needful, a little warm water-
gruel ; for the same fire that warms the room may be made use
of to boil a pot of it." We have in this scheme some rudimen-
xliv Introduction.
tary notions of "compulsion." "If any boy or girl under 14
years of age shall be found begging out of the parish where they
dwell, if within five miles distance of the said parish, they shall
be sent to the next working school, there to be soundly whipped
and kept at work till evening, so that they may be dismissed
time enough to get to their place of abode that night. Or, if
they live farther than five miles off from the place where they
are taken begging, they are to be sent to the next house of cor
rection, there to remain at work six weeks and so much longer
as till the next sessions after the end of the six weeks." (F. B.
ii. 381.) The project of these "Working Schools" is too long
to be quoted here, but I will add it in an appendix (App. B).
It is not within the object of this sketch to give an account
of Locke s general correspondence, but I must mention that
some of the letters preserved are to and from " Mr Newton,"
whom we know as Sir Isaac. In these letters Locke appears to
greater advantage than the younger and now more celebrated
philosopher ; for Newton "by sleeping too often by my fire," as
he says, "got an ill habit of sleeping," i.e. of not sleeping ; and
when he had had next to no sleep for a fortnight he made dis
paraging remarks about Locke, called him a Hobbist and wished
him dead. This done he wrote to Locke (Sep. i6th, 1693) to
announce the fact and to ask pardon 1 .
A more pleasing part of the correspondence tells of mutual
visits to Gates and Cambridge. On May 3rd, 1692, Newton
writes to Locke from Cambridge : " Now that the churlish
weather is almost over I was thinking within a post or two to
put you in mind of my desire to see you here, where you shall be
as welcome as I can make you. I am glad you have prevented
me, because I hope now to see you the sooner. You may lodge
conveniently either at the Rose Tavern or Queen s Arms Inn."
(F. B. ii. 232.) Locke went to Cambridge, where it seems he
was welcome to choose his own hotel. The Universities were
very slow in recognizing the importance of the Essay of Human,
1 For the letters between Newton and Locke, especially for an interesting account
how Newton nearly lost his eye-sight from experiments in looking at the sun, see
Lord King s Locke (1829), pp. 220 ff.
Biographical. xlv
Understanding. In the summer of 1696 Locke had been told that
his essay began to get some credit in Cambridge, "where," says he,
" I think for some years after it was published it was scarce so
much as looked into." (L. to W. Molyneux, 2 July, 1696. For
Essay at Oxf. see L. to W. M., 26 Ap. 1695 and Dunciadvr. 195, 6.)
I have now given enough (perhaps more than was necessary)
about the life of Locke to enable the reader to understand the
philosopher s connexion with education, and I hasten to the
close. In spite of his wretched health he reached the age of 72.
We have from his own pen a very pleasing account of a day at
Gates when he expected each winter to be his last. In January,
169!, he writes from Gates to his friend Molyneux that he has
escaped from London to his "wonted refuge in the more favour
able air and retirement of this place." He goes on : " That gave
me presently relief against the constant oppression of my lungs,
whilst I sit still : bu{ I find such a weakness of them still remain,
that if I stir ever so little, I am immediately out of breath, and
the very dressing or undressing me is a labour that I am fain to
rest after to recover my breath ; and I have not been once out
of my house since I came last hither. I wish nevertheless that
you were here with me to see how well I am : for you would
find that, sitting by the fire s side, I could bear my part in dis
coursing, laughing, and being merry with you, as well as ever I
could in my life. If you were here (and if wishes of more than
one could bring you, you would be here to-day) you would find
three or four in the parlour after dinner, who you would say,
pass d their afternoons as agreeably and as jocundly as any
people you have this good while met with. Do not therefore
figure to your self that I am languishing away my last hours
under an unsociable despondency and the weight of my infirmity.
Tis true, I do not count upon years of life to come, but I thank
God I have not many uneasy hours here in the four and twenty ;
and if I can have the wit to keep my self out of the stifling air
of London, I see no reason but, by the grace of God, I may get
over this winter, and that terrible enemy of mine may use me no
worse than the last did, which, as severe and as long as it was,
let me yet see another summer." (L. to W. M., 10 Jan., 169^.)
xlvi Introduction.
Six winters more spared him, and he had passed away before
the seventh. On the 2/th Oct., 1704, he felt that he could not
live much longer. " My work here is almost at an end," he said
to Lady Masham, " and I thank God for it. I may perhaps die
to-night ; but I cannot live above three or four days. Remem
ber me in your evening prayers." He was right. The end, a
very peaceful one, came the following day.
If we could analyse the Thoughts of Locke or of any other
(writer on education we should find they came from three sources,
i. Some are the result of the writer s own experience. 2. Some
have been suggested by other minds. 3. Some have been
arrived at by the working of the writer s own mind and its efforts
to construct a road according to the principles of right reason.
i. We are all of course much under the influence of our own
bringing up. To some extent we are conscious of this. When
we think about education, we go back to our own early days and
determine that some things we remember were worth imitating,
others worth avoiding. With the reformers the feeling must be
that most of their own and the common bringing up is wrong.
As Locke says, it is their dissent from what is established that
sets them upon writing (p. 26, 1. 36). But here and there they
recommend some plan of their own parents or teachers . A
good instance of this occurs in Locke s advice to fathers to treat
their children with some severity at first, and to become more
familiar and companionable with them as they grow older. In
stances of the negative influence of his own experience occur
throughout this work. And the influence of our own experience
is often far stronger than appears. When our mind seems to
be moving freely in a straight course it is often in fact deflected
by being secretly repelled from some object of our dislike.
\ E.g. Locke was not happy as a boy at Westminster, and though
his mind was singularly calm and judicial we find his unpleasant
remembrances prevented him from seeing the good side of the
training in public schools.
Critical. xlvii
2 and 3. When "in the quietness of thought" he endeavours
to settle the true ideal, even the most original and active-minded
man must often be beholden for guidance to other people. Some
writers indeed act mainly as reporters, and pass on what others
have said. These collectors of thoughts are by no means useless,
and if their specimens are well arranged and properly labelled
we may visit their museums for pleasure and instruction. But
Locke is no collector. Few thinkers have ever had so little
respect for tradition and authority. His belief in reason rises
almost to an enthusiasm, like Wordsworth s belief in Nature.
"Nature never did betray
" The heart that loved her ; "
sings Wordsworth. " The faculty of reasoning seldom or never
deceives those who trust to it," says Locke. (C. of /.) No
one has gone further than Locke (though oddly enough he seems
here echoing Montaigne) in maintaining that our only mental
possessions are what our own minds have given us. According
to him, he that thinks his understanding is 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 / can no more know anything by another
maifs understanding than I can see by another man s eyes.
...Whatever other men have, it is 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"
(Of Study?) At first sight it might seem that if the treasure
cannot be lent or made over it is mere waste of time to write or
to read books. But these metaphors are necessarily imperfect.
Jnstead of being considered as the owner of treasures which he
cannot give or lend, the writer may be compared to a guide who
leads us to good points of view and so enables us to see much
that we should not have seen without him. Thoughts that
never would have arisen from our own reflexion are welcomed
by us when suggested by another, and becoming naturalized
among our own thoughts are as much at home in our minds as
xlviii Introduction.
the aborigines. This of course is clearly recognized by Locke.
What is needed is, he says, "a soul devoted to truth, assisted with
letters and a free consideration of the several views and senti
ments of thinking men of all sides." (C. of U. iii. p. 9.) He is
indeed very severe on those who "canton out to themselves a
little Goschen in the intellectual world" (ib. p. 8), and though he
would not spend time in collecting the opinions of others about
matters in which our own reason may guide us, he protests that
he " does not undervalue the light we receive from others," or
forget that "there are those who assist us mightily in our
endeavours after knowledge." (Of Study.) Perhaps the need
of open-mindedness in the searcher for truth could not be better
enforced than it has been by Locke in the following, which
deserves to be a locus classicus on the subject : " We are all
short-sighted, and very often see but one side of a matter : our
views are not extended to all that has a connection with it.
From this defect I think no man is free. We see but in part,
and we know but in part ; and therefore it is no wonder we
conclude not right from our partial views. This might instruct
the proudest esteemer of his own parts how useful it is to talk
and consult with others, even such as come short of him in
capacity, quickness and penetration ; for since none sees all,
and we generally have different prospects of the same thing
according to our different, I may say, positions to it, it is not
incongruous to think, nor beneath any man to try, whether
another may not have notions of things which have escaped
him, and which his reason would make use of if they came into
his mind." (C. of U. iii 3 p. 7.)
As Locke was thus alive to the advantage of taking counsel
with other people we cannot but feel some surprise that he did
not make himself acquainted with the best writings then extant
on education. That his mind was in fact highly receptive is
proved by many passages in the Thoughts, which were obviously
suggested by Montaigne. We must remember indeed that the
Thoughts are after all only the letters to Clarke, which were
written probably as the first sketch of a work on education,
and Locke may have intended studying other writers before he
Critical. xlix
began the work itself. However this may be, we cannot but
regret that from his ignorance of Ascham, Mulcaster, Brinsly
and Hoole among English writers, and among the Continental
writers of Comenius, who in those days was the great authority
with educational reformers, many notions of things escaped our
philosopher which his reason would doubtless have made use of
had they come into his mind.
But though Locke seems to have read little or nothing on
education except what Montaigne says in his Essays, this read
ing of Montaigne brought him into the succession of thinkers
who have handed on a torch of truth with a flame of increasing
brightness. Perhaps no attempt can be more futile than the
attempt to decide with precision what a grqat thinker owes to
his predecessors. Where he has grasped a truth he may have
discovered it for himself even when it was known long before his
time ; and where he is in error, similar minds by a similar pro
cess may have come to the same result. Still though hard and
fast lines are here out of the question, we may get both pleasure
and profit from tracing the course of great thoughts on such a
subject as education, and observing how successive thinkers
develope the truths bequeathed to them, how they find fresh
applications of them, and adapt them to the wants of their age.
The succession of thinkers into which, as I said, Locke was
introduced by Montaigne, is usually given as follows : Rabelais,
Montaigne, Locke, (Fenelon ?), Rousseau. A very careful study
of the connexion of these writers has been made by Dr F. A.
Arnstaedt in his Francois Rabelais und sein Traite d Education
init besonderer Beriicksichtigting der pddagogischen Grundsatze
Montaigne s, Locke s und Rousseau s" (Leipzig, 1872). This
may be referred to by those who are not content with the out
lines I am about to give.
The great intellectual revolution which we call the Rena
scence was a revival of a taste for literary beauty as displayed
in the classics of Greece and Rome. The result of this revival
was that all the active minds of Europe devoted themselves to
the study of the ancient writers, whom they valued more for their
literary skill than for their knowledge or thought. Rabelais was
g. d
1 Introduction.
a child of the Renascence in his thirst for learning, but he
valued knowledge rather than literary beauty, and the instruc
tion he sketched out gave the knowledge of things, both through
books, that is, verbal realism as the Germans call it, and
through direct contact with the things themselves, that is, realism
proper. And he was not only the father of realism ; he was the
first to denounce the absurdities of the schoolroom, and besides
this, he made education extend far beyond instruction.
Montaigne had not the Renascence thirst for learning. He
by no means bowed down before a learned man or coveted the
distinction of a learned man for himself. His social rank was
high, and this distinction was in his eyes, as in the eyes of most
people, far preferable. And thus it happened that this fine
writer, with his clearness of thought and expression and his un
bounded wealth of apt illustrations, set himself against bookish-
ness, and so became the great spokesman of those who were
dissatisfied with the school system of the Renascence.
In the time of the Renascence the admiration for learning
made men strive for distinction by their knowledge of the
classics, and caused them to pride themselves on second-hand
knowledge and to make a display with it. This led to Mon
taigne s vigorous onslaught on second-hand knowledge. But
besides this there is another count in his indictment against the
educational system of the Renascence, and this second count we
must carefully distinguish from the first. He maintains against
the schoolmasters that knowledge, whether second-hand or first,
should not be made the main object in education, but that the
educator should rather endeavour to train the young up to
wisdom and virtue. He begins with a quotation from Rabelais :
" The greatest clerks are not the wisest men." In expanding
this thought he brings out that those who have read most and
remember most are not on that account those who know most,
and further that those who know most are not on that account
the wisest and best men.
As I have already said, we cannot determine with any pre
cision how far Locke s "thoughts" were original with him,
and how far they were suggested by Montaigne. We must
Critical. li
remember that his study of Montaigne (his first study of him
as far as we can learn) came late. He went to Holland when
he was fifty-two years old ; and during his stay there we find
the following entry in his journal : " Feb. 14 [Lord King seems
to think the year of no consequence] Montaigne by a gentle
kind of negligence clothed in a peculiar sort of good language,
persuades without reason : his essays are a texture of strong
sayings, sentences, and ends of verses, which he so puts
together that they have an extraordinary force upon men s
minds. He reasons not, but diverts himself and pleases others;
full of pride and vanity " (Lord King s Locke, First Edition,
p. 160). Here we find Locke depreciating Montaigne ("he
reasons not " was in Locke s mouth the strongest condemnation)
and struggling against his influence, though half conscious that
he was struggling in vain. It was not, we may be sure, to
this study of Montaigne that Locke owed his favourite thoughts
on education, for as he had been engaged in educating for
many years, his views must have been pretty well settled, and
he no doubt brought to the reading of the Essay on Education
much that he also found there. Still, the chief importance of
the Thoughts is due to the prominence given by Locke to truths
which had already been set forth by Montaigne. One of the
most fervid thinkers of our own day, the late Charles Kingsley,
writing in his most fervid time, predicted heavy judgments on
the age if we " persisted much longer in substituting denuncia
tion for sympathy, instruction for education, and Pharisaism for
the Good News of the Kingdom of God" (C. Kingsley s Life,
smaller edition, i. 224). There was nothing fervid about Locke,
but in his own calm way he pointed out that the best hope of
correcting the general depravity of those days was to be found
in educating young gentlemen and not merely instructing them.
As a recent German translator of the Thoughts, Dr Moritz
Schuster, has well said, Locke s great merit lay in this : die
Betonung der Erziehung -vor dent Unterricht, the stress he
laid on education, his principle Education before Instruction!
(Translation of Locke in Karl Richter s Piidagogische Bib-
liothek.} This principle does indeed, as Dr Schuster says,
d*
lii Introduction.
raise Locke above his Utilitarianism, and thus it is to him a
defence which even the keen shafts of Cardinal Newman cannot
penetrate. (See Idea of a University, by J. H. Newman. Dis
course vii. 4.) 1
Montaigne, as we saw, was much influenced by his social
position. Locke also wrote "as a gentleman for gentlemen."
" That most to be taken care of," he writes, " is the gentleman s
calling ; for if those of that rank are by their education once set
right, they will quickly bring all the rest into order." That a
human being could need education as a human being, might be
thought a conception beyond the minds of Locke and his con
temporaries, and yet Comenius had already said : " I aim at
securing for all human beings a training in all that is proper to
their common humanity. Generalem nos intendimus institu-
tionent omnium gut homines nati sunt, ad omnia humana."
(Didact. Mag. quoted in Buisson s Dictionnaire, Com.} This
is a much higher ideal than Locke s. He saw indeed that
"children should not be suffered to lose the consideration of
Human Nature in the shufflings of outward conditions" (infra,
117, p. 103, 1. 10), but he seems, to me at least, not to have
thought enough of our common human nature in considering
education. Everything must be settled with an eye to class
distinctions, "the several degrees of men," as he says; and we
want "the easiest, shortest, and likeliest way to produce vir
tuous, useful and able men in their distinct callings." (Epistle
Dedicatory, infra.) As we saw, he himself thought only of the
gentleman s calling ; and his reflexions were limited if not dis
torted by this exclusiveness.
Some have maintained that the chief merit of the Thoughts
lay in the prominence given to physical education, which is the
first point treated of: indeed a recent selection of important
1 The English editor of Locke, Mr J. A. St John, has well said, " Locke s con
ception of education differed very materially from that which generally prevails.
He understood by it rather the training and disciplining of the mind into good habits
than the mere tradition of knowledge, on which point he agrees entirely with the
ancients." (Note to C. of U. iii. 3.) Hermann Hettner, in his Literattir-Ges-
chichte d. -&ten Jahrhtinderts (Part i. p. 157), quotes in proof of this Locke s letter
to Lord Peterborough, in Lord King s Locke, pp. 4, 5. (See note to 147, infra.)
Critical. liii
passages from the great writers on education (E. Sperber s,
Giitersloh) gives Locke s advice about physical education only.
His own sufferings from ill-health no doubt made our author so
urgent on this point. He tells us almost pathetically that if in
pursuit of knowledge we are negligent of health we are likely to
" 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 his 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."
(Of Study.} Locke has no doubt done good service in drawing
attention to the importance of physical education and by his
advice about it ; but Rabelais and Montaigne had made as
much account of the training of the body, and so had some
English writers, Sir Thomas Elyot in his Governor, and, still
more remarkably, Richard Mulcaster in his Positions.
The bodily health being cared for, we come to the gentle
man s essential requirements in mind and manners, and Locke
gives them in the following order as the order of their import
ance : I, Virtue ; 2, Wisdom ; 3, Breeding ; 4, Learning (infra,
134, p. 115). His object in writing is to show how these may
be secured.
A writer much venerated by our philosopher looks to the
emotional side of our nature to supply the best moral restraints.
" Love worketh no ill to his neighbour : therefore love is the
fulfilling of the law." (Rom. xiii. 10.) But in Locke the emo
tions were encroached upon by the intellect ; and he would
train the gentleman to consider always what is reasonable and
to submit to reason s dictates. As a preparation for this obe
dience to their own judgment when ripe the young should be
trained to act in accordance with the judgments of the reason
able people who bring them up. As soon as possible children
are to be dealt with as reasonable creatures ; but when they are
too young for this they are to be worked upon by awe of the
parental authority and by love of reputation.
There are two truths about education which Locke applies
to everything with an almost tiresome iteration :
liv Introduction.
1. The secret of instruction in all arts, and indeed in con
duct too, is to get what we would teach settled in the pupil by
practice till it becomes a habit. The child s actions and the
child s learning are to be thought of as tending to habits.
" That which I cannot ,too often inculcate is that whatever the
matter be about which it is conversant whether great or small,
the main (I had almost said only) thing to be considered in
every action of a child is what influence it will have upon his
mind; what habit it tends to and is likely 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." (Infra 107,
p. 86, 1. 1 6.)
2. The grand influence of all is the influence of companions.
" Having named company I am almost ready to throw away my
pen, and trouble you no further on this subject ; for since that
does more than all precepts, rules and instructions, methinks tis
almost wholly in vain to make a long discourse of other things
and to talk of that almost to no purpose." ( 70, p. 45, 1. 32.)
1. The immense effect of practice both in moral and intel
lectual education has been dwelt upon by the greatest writers
on education in our own century, Pestalozzi and Froebel. We
have some touching instances of the way in which Pestalozzi
taught even poor children to practise self-denial to relieve the
distress of others.
2. Locke seems in constant difficulties about company.
The young gentleman may not be sent to school because
his bringing up requires a much more complete superintend
ence than a school-master can give, and also because he must
not be exposed to the "prevailing infection" of school-fellows.
But Locke sees clearly that children brought up at home must
be left a good deal in the charge of servants, and of servants he
has no higher opinion than of school-boys. Again and again
he refers to this difficulty and shows an uncomfortable con
sciousness that here is a rock on which the good ship will
probably go to pieces. For the only hope of safety he looks to
the father aided by the tutor. But few fathers can and still
fewer will give the amount of time and attention to their son s
Critical. lv
bringing up which Locke s scheme requires from them. As for
the tutor, such a tutor as Locke describes is as Hallam calls
him a "phcenix," or indeed a still rarer bird, as we could not
expect to see one every hundred years. He is to be a professor
of the whole art of living, and must teach the young man how to
behave when he goes into the world as the dancing-master
must teach him how to "make a leg" when he goes into the
drawing-room. Locke thinks of virtue, wisdom and breeding,
as things inculcated and worked into the youth. But thinkers
such as Pestalozzi and Froebel since Locke s time, and indeed
Comenius before his time, have held that the seeds of virtue and
wisdom are implanted in us by Nature, and that these must be
developed under the "benevolent superintendence" of parents
and educators. If we take up this standpoint there seems far
too much artifice in many of Locke s proposals. They even
at times verge on "white lies" or "pious frauds," as did those
of Rousseau, who in this was probably Locke s disciple.
Learning, which school-masters are apt to make the chief
thing in education or even to take for education itself, Locke
considers as the least important of his requisites; and we have
seen that in this lies the main excellence of his book. When we
come to his suggestions about learning we find them in one
respect very disappointing. . About other matters he lays down
the rule that in every action of the child we are to consider
mainly, if not exclusively, what influence the action will have
on the child s mind and what habit it will strengthen. But when
he comes to learning Locke in spite of his own rule discusses
not the effect of this or that study on the mind, but whether or
no the knowledge or skill will be useful to a gentleman. It
seems strange that the philosopher who had made a study of
the human understanding did not bring this study to bear
more directly on instruction, and show us how different intel
lectual exercises affect the mind. But except in the case of
geometry he has passed over this consideration altogether, and
seems rather to consider how the young gentleman may acquire
most easily the knowledge that will be "useful" to him than how
he may get the best intellectual training. But it seems to me
Ivi Introduction.
that in this last and least important part Locke has expressed
himself carelessly and done himself some injustice ; and I can by
no means agree with Cardinal Newman in the following: "No
thing of course can be more absurd than to neglect in education
those matters which are necessary for a boy s future calling;
but the tone of Locke s remarks evidently implies more than this,
and is condemnatory of any teaching which tends to the general
cultivation of the mind." (Idea of a University, vii. p. 160.) A
more impartial critic would, I think, find the tone of Locke not in
the passages which Newman quotes, but in such passages as the
following: "To this perhaps it will be objected that to manage
the understanding as I propose would require every man to be a
scholar and to be furnished with all the materials of knowledge,
and exercised in all ways of reasoning. To which I answer that
it is a shame for those that have time and the means to attain
knowledge to want any help or assistance for the improvement of
their understandings that can be got; and to such I would be
thought here chiefly to speak" (C. of U. 7). From this it would
seem that Locke, far from condemning any teaching which tends
to the general cultivation of the mind, looks upon the acquire
ment of knowledge mainly as a means of "improving the under
standing." Again, after pointing out certain intellectual infirmi
ties and what comes of them, he says : "These are the common
and most general miscarriages which I think men should avoid or
rectify in the right conduct of their understandings, and should
be particularly taken care of in education; the business whereof
in respect of knowledge is not as I think to perfect the learner
in all or any one of the sciences, but to give his mind that
freedom, that disposition, and those habits that may enable
, him to attain any part of knowledge he shall apply himself to,
or stand in need of, in the future course of his life" (C. of U.
12: see too Note "Magisterially dictating" p. 224 infra,}
These passages are indeed not in the Thoughts concerning
Education; but even from that work alone my conception of
Locke s tone is very different from Cardinal Newman s. This is
Locke s account of the educator s task : "Due care being had to
keep the body in strength and vigour, so that it may be able to
Critical. Ivii
obey and execute the orders of the mind, the next and principal
business is to set the mind right" (infra 31, p. 20). It is
true he is thinking here rather of the moral than of the intellec
tual side of the mind, as he is also in the following passage :
"He that at any rate procures 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 laid out money for an addition of more earth to his
former acres" ( 90, p. 67, 1. 10). Had Newman charged
Locke with thinking too exclusively of the character and not
enough of the intellect he could not be so easily answered from
the Thoughts on Education; but this would be a singular
charge to bring against the author of the Conduct of the Human
Understanding. When Locke says that what the youth is to
receive from education is "habits woven into the very principles
of his nature" ( 42, p. 28) he must be understood to include
intellectual habits as well as moral (see p. 75, 1. 40, infra). And
so far as I can form a notion of Locke s tone from a careful
study of the whole book I must decide that I know no writer on
education less open to the charge of indifference to the cultiva
tion of the mind.
I have said that Rabelais gave the first impulse to realism, i.e.
the study of things, both verbal realism and realism proper.
Locke does indeed commend " real " knowledge, using the word
" real" in this meaning which we have now lost. He sees that
the " knowledge of things that fall under the senses " (p. 40, 1. 8)
is suitable for children. But in this matter he is far less distinct
than Comenius ; and if he had written on instruction only, his
book would deserve the epithets " mediocre et judicieux" (the
first at all events) which Michelet has bestowed upon it. (Nos
tils.)
Those who wish thoroughly to understand Locke s Thoughts
concerning Education should study not only the book so called,
but also the more carefully written Essay on the Conduct of
the Human Understanding. (See Note on next page.)
Iviii Introduction.
NOTE.
Henry Hallam, a great admirer of Locke s, speaks of the Conduct
of the Understanding as a treatise "on the moral discipline of the in
tellect," and he "cannot think any parent or instructor justified in
neglecting to put this little treatise in the hands of a boy about the
time when the reasoning faculties become developed" (Lit. of R. Pt.
IV. c. iii., 122, 124). He also commends the Thoughts on Education,
but in a safe and seesaw fashion which is, to me at least, intensely
irritating. Here is a specimen (I am responsible for the type): " Locke
many years afterwards [i.e. after the appearance of Milton s Tractate]
turned his thoughts to education with all the advantages that a strong
understanding and entire disinterestedness could give him ; but, as ~we
should imagine, with some necessary deficiencies of experience, though we
hardly perceive MUCH of them in his writings. He looked on the
methods usual in his age with severity, or some would say with preju
dice; yet I know not by what proof we can refute his testimony. 1 We
are further informed that Locke "has uttered, to say the least, more
good sense on the subject than will be found in any preceding writer."
This sentence is not quite so safe. If valuable truth is "good sense,"
more will be found in the Didactica Magna of Comenius than in the
Thoughts concerning Education. Hallam in this part of his work does
not seem fortunate when he leaves an assertion untrimmed. " Much,"
he tells us, "has been written, and often well, since the days of Locke;
but he is the chief source from which it has been ultimately derived."
This statement cannot indeed well be refuted, but neither can it be
proved, and it seems to me very questionable. But Hallam is soon on
safe ground again. He continues: "and though the Emile is more
attractive in manner, it may be doubtful whether it is as rational and
practicable as the Treatise on Education." This is very cautiously put
indeed. We should hardly shew more caution if we said : " Though the
writings of M. Jules Verne are more attractive, especially to the young,
it may be doubtful whether they are as rational and practicable as some
of the articles in the Revue des Deux blondes"
I said that Hallam s assertion which would give Locke the credit of
being the chief source from which later writers have "ultimately"
drawn, could not well be refuted. But anyone who will be at the pains
to study the subject, especially under the guidance of Dr Arnstaedt, will
I think agree that the word " ultimately " is somewhat out of place
here. Arnstaedt shows the following points of agreement in Rabelais,
Montaigne, Locke, and Rousseau, i. Care for a single child only,
and by consequence neglect of the education of the people, i. The
degrading of learning from the first place and placing the main stress on
virtue and the formation of character. 3. Importance of physical edu
cation. 4. The condemnation of the harshness commonly shown to the
young, and the demand that they should be made happy even in work.
Critical.
lix
5. Condemnation of large schools. 6. The employment of a governor
who is to he wise rather than learned. 7. Condemnation of instruction
which inculcates not how to think but what to think, or simply what to
remember. 8. Teaching at first hand, i. e. by the senses or by direct
experience. 9. Travel as a part of education. To these might pro
bably be added several more points of agreement, e.g. the employment
of games for educational purposes, and the training in some handi
craft.
For the use of those who wish to compare Locke with Montaigne I
copy from Arnstaedt the following list of parallel passages which have
been observed by Coste, who translated Locke into French, became
Frank Masham s tutor at Gates while Locke was living there, and
afterwards published an annotated edition of Montaigne.
Locke
. 7, Montaigne Bk.
i. ch.
25:
L.
20,
M.
i
25: L.
23,
M.
iii.
13
U
31,
M.
L
2 5
L.
38,
M.
ii.
8:
L.
40,
M.
iii.
8
L.
48,
M.
ii.
8:
I,.
49
M.
ii.
8
L.
81,
M.
i.
25 :
L.
92,
M.
i.
34
L.
94.
M.
i.
18:
L.
96,
M.
ii.
8
L.
98,
M.
L
25 =
L.
98,
M.
i.
24
L.
109,
M.
i.
22:
L.
112,
M.
i.
25
L.
132,
M.
L
9 :
L.
43.
M.
i.
~r
L.
M4,
M.
L
23:
L.
145,
M.
iii.
t
L.
147.
M.
i.
L.
166,
M.
i.
5
L.
191,
M.
i.
25
L.
198,
M.
i.
35
L.
216,
M.
L
25.
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 vary d 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 Stile, that they were rather the private
Conversation of tu<o Friends, than a Discourse designed for
publick View.
The Importunity of Friends is the common Apology for
Publications Men are afraid to own themselves forward 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 dormant
still in that Privacy they were designed for. But those, whose
Judgment I defer much to, telling me, that they were per-
Ixii The Epistle Dedicatory.
suaded, that this rough Draught of mine might be of some
Use, if made more publick, touch d upon what will always be
very prevalent with me : For I think it every Man s indis-
pensible Duty, to do all the Service he can to his Country ;
and I see not what Difference he puts between himself and
his Cattle, who lives without that Thought. This Subject
is of so great Concernment, and a right Way of Education
is of so general Advantage, that did I find my Abilities answer
my Wishes, I should not have needed Exhortations or Impor
tunities from others. Hoiuever, 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, when there is
no more required of me than my throwing it into the publick
Receptacle. And if there be any more of their Size and
Notions, who UK d them so well, that they thought them worth
printing, 1 may flatter myself they will not be lost Labour to
every Body.
I myself have been consulted of late by so many, who pro
fess themselves at a loss how to breed their Children, and the
early Corruption of Youth is now become so general a Com
plaint, that he cannot be thought wholly impertinent, who
brings the Consideration of this Matter on the Stage, and
offers something, if it be but to excite others, or afford Matter
of Correction : For Errors in Education should be less in-
dulg d than any. . These, like Faults in the first Concoction,
that are never mended in the second or third, carry their
afterwards incorrigible Taint with them thro 1 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
The Epistle Dedicatory. Ixiii
Treatise of Education, suited to our English Gentry, 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 will, however, in the mean Time
bear me Witness, that the Method here proposed 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 satisfy d of, that a contrary Usage, according to
the ordinary disciplining 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 Prosperity of the Nation so
much depends on it, that I would have every one lay it seriously
to Heart ; and after having well examined and distinguished
what^ Fancy, Custom, 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 likeliest to produce virtuous, useful,
and able Men tn their distinct Callings ; thd that most to be
taken Care of is the Gentleman s Calling. For if those of
thaC Rank are by their Education once set right, they will
quickly bring all the rest into Order.
Ixiv The Epistle Dedicatory.
/ know not whether I have done more than shewn my
good Wishes towards it in this short Discourse ; such as it is,
tlie World now has if, and if there be any Thing in it worth
their Acceptance, they owe their Thanks to you for it. My
Affection to You gave the first Rise to it, and I am pleas d,
that I can leave to Posterity this Mark of the Friendship that
has been between us. For I know no greater Pleasure in this
Life, nor a better Remembrance to be left behind one, than a
long continued Friendship with an honest, useful, and worthy
Man, and Lover of his Country. I am,
SIR,
Your most humble
and most faithful Servant,
JOHN LOCKE.
March 7,
1692. [i. e. i69Jj]
SOME THOUGHTS
CONCERNING
I- :B^ ^^"si 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
J ftlc more to wish for; and he that wants
either of them, will be but little the better for 5
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 Constitutions of Body and Mind so vigorous, jo
and well fram d by Nature, that they need not much Assist
ance from others ; but by the strength of their natural
Genius, they are from their Cradles carried towards what is
excellent ; and by the Privilege of their happy Constitutions,
are able to do Wonders. But Examples of this Kind are 15
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 Education. Tis that which makes
the great Difference in Mankind. The little, or almost
insensible Impressions on our tender Infancies, have very 20
important and lasting Consequences : And there tis, as in
the Fountains of some Rivers, where a gentle Application of
the Hand turns the flexible Waters in Channels, that make
them take quite contrary Courses ; and by this Direction
2 Hardening the body. [ i 5
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 d
5 this or that Way, as Water it self: 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 Body, as that which perhaps you may
10 rather expect from that Study I have been
thought more peculiarly to have apply d my self to; and
that also which will be soonest dispatch d, as lying, if I
guess not amiss, in a very little Compass.
3. How necessary Health is to our Business and
15 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
20 be, not what a Physician ought to do with a sick and crazy
Child ; but what the Parents, without LUC Help of Physick,
should do for the Preservation and Improvement of an
healtliy, or at least not sickly Constitution in their Children.
And this perhaps might be all dispatch d in this one short
25 Rule, viz. That Gentlemen should use their Children, as
the honest Farmers and substantial Yeomen do theirs. But
because the Mothers possibly may think this a little too
hard, and the Fathers too short, I shall explain my self more
particularly; only laying down this as a general and certain
30 Observation for the Women to consider, viz. That most
Children s Constitutions are either spoil d, or
at least harm d, by Cockering and Tenderness.
5- -The first Thing to be taken care of, is, that Chil-
dren be not too warmly clad or covered, Winter
35 or Summer. The Face when we are born, is
no less tender than any other Part of the Body. Tis Use
alone hardens it, and makes it more able to endure the
Cold. And therefore the Scythian Philosopher gave a very
significant Answer to the Athenian, who wonder d how he
40 could go naked in Frost and Snow. How, said the
Scythian, can you endure your Face exposed to the sharp
5 6] Not too warm clothing. 3
Winter Air? My face is us d to it, said the Athenian.
Think me all face, reply d the Scythian. Our Bodies will
endure any Thing, that from the Beginning they are accus-
tom d to.
An eminent Instance of this, though in the contrary 5
Excess of Heat, being to our present Purpose, to shew
what Use can do, I shall set down in the Author s Words,
as I meet with it in a late ingenious Voyage. ^ Nour , eau
t"The Heats, says he, are more violent in Voyage du
1 Malta, than in any Part of Europe: They L 10
exceed those of Rome itself, and are perfectly stifling ;
and so much the more, because there are seldom any
cooling Breezes here. This makes the common People
as black as Gypsies : But yet the Peasants defy the Sun ;
they work on in the hottest Part of the Day, without 15
Intermission, or sheltering themselves from his scorching
Rays. This has convinc d me, that Nature can bring
itself to many Things, which seem impossible, provided
we accustom ourselves from our Infancy. The Malteses
do so, who harden the Bodies of their Children, and 20
reconcile them to the Heat, by making them go stark
naked, without Shirt, Drawers, or any Thing on their
Heads, from their Cradles till they are ten Years old."
Give me leave therefore to advise you not to fence
too carefully against the Cold of this our Climate. There 25
are those in England, who wear the same Clothes Winter
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 Censure, be sure let 30
not his Winter-Clothing be too warm : And amongst
other Things, remember, that when Nature has so well
covered his Head with Hair, and strengthen d it with a
Year or two s Age, that he can run about by Day without a
Cap, it is best that by Night a Child should also lie without 35
one ; there being nothing that more exposes to Headachs,
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 40
brought up from his Infancy, which in all Things will not
i 2
4 Wet feet. [ 6, 7
so perfectly suit the Education of Daughters ; though where
the Difference of Sex requires different Treatment, twill be
no hard Matter to distinguish.
7. I will also advise his Feet to be wasKd every Day
5 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
10 Stockings. But yet Truth will have it, that his Health is
much more worth than all such Considerations, and ten
times as much more. And he that considers how mis
chievous and mortal a Thing taking Wet in the Feet is, to
those who have been bred nicely, will wish he had, with the
15 poor People s Children, gone bare-foot, who, by that Means,
come to be so reconcil d by Custom to Wet in their Feet,
that they take no more Cold or Harm by it, than if they
were wet in their Hands. And what is it, I pray, that
makes this great Difference between the Hands and the
20 Feet in others, but only Custom ? I doubt not, but if a
Man from his Cradle had been always us d to go bare-foot,
whilst his Hands were constantly wrapt up in warm Mittins,
and cover d with Hand-shoes, as the Dutch call Gloves ; I
doubt not, I say, but such a Custom would make taking
25 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 wash d constantly every Day in cold Water.
It is recommendable for its Cleanliness ; but that which I
30 aim at in it, is Health; and therefore I limit it not precisely
to any Time of the Day. I have known it us d every
Night with very good Success, and that all the Winter,
without the omitting it so much as one Night in extreme cold
Weather; when thick Ice cover d the Water, the Child
35 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 puling and very tender. But the
great End being to harden those Parts by a frequent and
familiar Use of cold Water, and thereby to prevent the
40 Mischiefs that usually attend accidental taking Wet in the
Feet in those who are bred otherwise, I think it may be
;] Cold water. 5
left to the Prudence and Convenience of the Parents, to
chuse either Night or Morning. The Time I deem indiffer
ent, so the Thing be effectually done. The Health and
Hardiness procured by it, would be a good Purchase at a
much dearer rate. To which if I add the preventing of 5
Corns, that to some Men would be a very valuable 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, 10
as in all other Alterations from our ordinary
ITT i- T ,1 y-ii ,1 11 Alterations.
Way of Living, the Changes must be made by
gentle and insensible Degrees ; and so we may bring our
Bodies to any thing, without Pain, and without Danger.
How fond Mothers are like to receive this Doctrine, is not 15
hard to foresee. What can it be less, than to murder their
tender Babes, to use them thus ? What ! 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 20
is seldom hearken d 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 exorbitant Fortune, that could well have borne the 25
Expence of a warm Bath, and in an Age (lor 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 Sufferance.
What made it agreeable to his Health ? For that was not 30
impair d by this hard Usage. But what shall we say to
Horace, who warm d not himself with the Reputation of
any Sect, and least of all affected Stoical Austerities ? yet
he assures us, he was wont in the Winter Season to bathe
himself in cold Water. But, perhaps, Italy will be thought 35
much warmer than England, and the Chillness of their
Waters not to come near ours in Winter. If the Rivers of
Italy are warmer, those of Germany and Poland are much
colder, than any in this our Country, and yet in these, the
yews, both Men and Women, bathe all over, at all Seasons 40
of the Year, without any Prejudice to their Health. And
6 Swimming. Open air. [ 7 9
every one is not apt to believe it is Miracle, or any
peculiar Virtue of St Winifred s Well, that makes the cold
Waters of that famous Spring do no Harm to the tender
Bodies that bathe in it. Every one is now full of the
5 Miracles done by cold Baths on decay d and weak Con
stitutions, for the Recovery of Health and Strength ; and
therefore they cannot be impracticable or intolerable for
the improving and hardening the Bodies of those who are in
better Circumstances.
10 If these Examples of grown Men be not thought yet to
reach the Case of Children, but that they may be judg d
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
15 they are thought, may, without 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 High
lands of Scotland who use this Discipline to their Children
in the midst of Winter, and find that cold Water does them
20 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 has any one
Swimming. . . (l . J
to teach him. lis that saves many a Mans
Life; and the Romans thought it so necessary, that they
25 rank d it with Letters; and it was the common Phrase to
mark one ill-educated, and good for nothing, That he had
neither learnt to read nor to swim: Nee literas didicit nee
natare. But, besides the gaining a Skill which may serve
him at need, the Advantages to Health by often bathing in
30 cold Water during the Heat of Summer, are so many, that
I think nothing need be said to encourage it; provided this
one Caution be us d, That he never go into the Water when
Exercise has at all warm d him, or left any Emotion in his
Blood or Pulse.
35 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 as little as may be by the Fire,
even in Winter. By this he will accustom him
self also to Heat and Cold, Shine and Rain; all which if a
40 Man s Body will not endure, it will serve him to very little
Purpose in this World; and when he is grown up, it is too
9, io] Caution established by habit. 7
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, 5
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 expos d 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 altho greater io
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 15
will they receive from it all the remaining Part of their
Lives.
io. 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 lie down on the 20
cold or moist Earth. This I grant ; and drinking cold
Drink, when they are hot with Labour or Exercise, brings
more People to the Grave, or to the Brink of it, by Fevers,
and other Diseases, than anything I know. These Mis
chiefs are easily enough prevented whilst he is little, being 25
then seldom out of Sight. And if, during his Childhood, he
be constantly and rigorously kept from sitting on the
Ground, or drinking any cold Liquor whilst he is hot, the
Custom of forbearing, grown into Habit, will Ha },i ts
help much to preserve him, when he is no longer 30
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 have put into his own 35
Mind by good Principles, and establish d Habits, which is
the best and surest, and therefore most to be taken care of.
For, from repeated Cautions and Rules, never so often
inculcated, you are not to expect any thing either in this, or
any other Case, farther than Practice has establish d them 40
into Habits.
8 Against tight lacing. [ u, 12
n. One thing the mention of the Girls brings into
my Mind, which must not be forgot; and that is, that your
Son s Clothes be never made strait, especially
Clothes. , , J
about the Breast. Let nature have Scope to
5 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
10 have no perfect Children born, as we have few well-shap d
that are strait-lac s, or much tamper d with. This Consider
ation should, methinks, keep busy People (I will not say
ignorant Nurses and Bodice-makers) from meddling in a
Matter they understand not; and they should be afraid to
15 put Nature out of her Way in fashioning the Parts, when
they know not how the least and 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
20 wiser than they, destroy their young ones by senseless Fond
ness, and too much embracing.
12. Narrow Breasts, short and stinking Breath, ill
Lungs, and Crookedness, are the natural and almost con
stant Effects of hard Bodice, and Clothes that finch. That
25 way of making slender Wastes, and fine Shapes, serves but
the more effectually to spoil them. Nor can there indeed
but be Disproportion in the Parts, when the Nourishment
prepared in the several Offices of the Body cannot be dis
tributed as Nature designs. And therefore what wonder is
30 it, if, it being laid where it can, on some Part not so braced,
it often makes a Shoulder or Hip higher or bigger than its
just Proportion? Tis generally known, that the Women of
China, (imagining I know not what kind of Beauty in it) by
bracing and binding them hard from their Infancy, have
35 ver y little Feet. I saw lately a Pair of China Shoes, which
I was told were for a grown Woman : They were so exceed
ingly disproportion d to the Feet of one of the same Age
among us, that they would scarce have been big enough for
one of our little Girls. Besides this, tis observ d, that their
40 Women are also very little, and short-liv d; whereas the
Men are of the ordinary Stature of other Men, and live to a
1214] Diet. 9
proportionable Age. These Defects in the Female Sex in
that Country, are by some imputed to the unreasonable
Binding of their Feet, whereby the free Circulation of the
Blood is hinder d, and the Growth and Health of the whole
Body suffers. And how often do we see, that some small 5
Part of the Foot being injur d by a Wrench or a Blow, the
whole Leg or Thigh thereby lose their Strength and Nourish
ment, and dwindle away? How much greater Inconveni
ences may we expect, when the Thorax, wherein is placed
the Heart and Seat of Life, is unnaturally compress d, and 10
hinder d from its due Expansion?
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 1 5
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 eating too much Flesh themselves, who will be
apt to think their Children, as they do themselves, in
Danger to be starv d, if they have not Flesh at least twice a- 20
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 cramm d so much
as they are by fond Mothers and foolish Servants, and were 25
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 30
best; and great care should be used, that he eat Bread
plentifully, both alone and with every thing else; and what
ever he eats that is solid, make him chew it well. We
English are often negligent herein; from whence follow
Indigestion, and other great Inconveniences. 35
14. For Breakfast and Supper, Milk, Milk- Pottage,
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 season d with Sugar, or 4
rather none at all; especially all Spice, and other things that
io Meals. [ 14
may heat the Blood, are carefully to be avoided. Be
sparing also of Salt in the seasoning of all his Victuals, and
use hirii not to high-season d Meats. Our Palates grow into
a relish and liking of the Seasoning and Cookery which by
5 Custom they are set to; and an over-much Use of Salt,
besides that it occasions Thirst, and over-much Drinking,
has other ill Effects upon the Body. I should think that a
good Piece of well-made and well-bak d brown Bread, some
times with, and sometimes without Butter or Cheese, would
io be often the best Breakfast for my young Master. I am
sure tis as wholesome, and will make him as strong a Man
as greater Delicacies; and if he be used to it, it will be as
pleasant to him. If he at any Time calls for Victuals be
tween Meals, use him to nothing but dry Bread. If he be
15 hungry more than wanton, Bread alone will down; and if
he be not hungry, tis not fit he should eat. By this you
will obtain two good Effects : i. That by 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
20 are used to. 2. 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
25 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
30 set Meal even of those who eat more than once a-day; and
those who us d Breakfasts, as some did, at eight, some at
ten, others at twelve of the Clock, and some later, neither
eat Flesh, nor had any thing made ready for them. Au
gustus, when the greatest Monarch on the Earth, tells us, he
35 took a Bit of dry Bread in his Chariot. And Seneca, in his
83rd 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 Formality of sitting to it, tho his Estate
40 would as well have paid for a better Meal (had Health
requir d it) as any Subject s in England, were it doubled.
i4> J 5] Meals. n
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 eat 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 5
Bit of dry Bread, or at most a few Raisins, or some such
slight Thing with it, to stay his Stomach. This Part of
Temperance was found so necessary both for Health and
Business, that the Custom of only one Meal a day held out
against that prevailing Luxury which their Eastern Con- 10
quests 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 the Evening. And more than one
set Meal a-day was thought so monstrous, that it was a
Reproach as low down as Cesar s Time, to make an Enter- 15
tainment, or sit down to a full Table, till towards Sun-set;
and therefore, if it would not be thought too severe, I should
judge it most convenient that my young Master should
have nothing but Bread too for Breakfast. You cannot
imagine of what Force Custom is; and I impute a great 20
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 constantly to an Hour: as 25
For when Custom has fix d his Eating to certain stated
Periods, his Stomach will expect Victuals at the usual
Hour, and grow peevish if he passes it; either fretting
itself into a troublesome Excess, or flagging into a down
right want of Appetite. Therefore I would have no Time 30
kept constantly to for his Breakfast, Dinner and Supper,
but rather vary d 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 35
Child will never starve nor dwindle for want of Nourishment,
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 40
order d. The Morning is generally design d for Study, to
12 Drinking. [ 15 18
which a full Stomach is but an ill Preparation. Dry
Bread, though the best Nourishment, has the least Temp
tation; and no body would have a Child cramm d at
Breakfast, who has any Regard to his Mind or Body, and
5 would not have him dull and unhealthy. Nor let any one
think this unsuitable 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 design d him to sleep over his Life in
10 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.
1 6. His Drink should be only Small Beer; and
. that too he should never be suffer d to have
1 5 between Meals, but after he had eat a Piece of
Bread. The Reasons why I say this are these.
17. i. More Fevers and Surfeits are got by People s
drinking when they are hot, than by any one Thing I
know. Therefore, if by Play he be hot and dry, Bread will
20 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
25 dry, it will go down so warm d, and quench his Thirst better ;
and if he will not drink it so warm d, 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.
30 1 8. 2. Not being permitted to drink without eating,
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
35 may, though he be wean d from it, bring him by Use to
such a Necessity again 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 Difficulty to wean their Children from
40 drinking in the Night, when they first take them Home.
Believe it, Custom prevails as much by Day as by "Night ;
iS 20] Against strong drinks. 13
and you may, if you please, bring any one to be thirsty every
Hour.
I once liv d in a House, where, to appease a froward
Child, they gave him Drink as often as he cry d ; so that he
was constantly bibbing. And tho he could not speak, yet 5
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 your self into a Drought. The great Thing
to be minded in Education is, what Habits you ^
settle ; and thereiore in this, as all other Things, 10
do not begin to make any Thing customary, the Practice
whereof you would not have continue 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, un- 15
less he has been accustom d to such unseasonable Drinking,
19. Above all, take great Care that he seldom, if ever,
taste any Wine or strong Drink. There *$ strong Drink
nothing so ordinarily given Children in Eng
land, and nothing so destructive to them. They ought 20
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 watch d,
and most severely to be reprehended when they transgress.
Those mean sort of People, placing a great Part of their 25
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 twill do the Child no Harm.
This you are carefully to have your Eye upon, and restrain 3
with all the Skill and Industry you can, there being nothing
that lays a surer Foundation of Mischief, both to Body and
Mind, than Children s being us d to strong Drink, especially
to drink in private with the Servants.
20. Fruit makes one of the most difficult Chapters in 35
the Government of Health, especially that of
Children. Our first Parents ventur d Paradise
for it ; and tis no wonder our Children cannot stand the
Temptation, tho it cost them their Health. The Regulation
of this .cannot come under any one general Rule ; for I am 40
by no means of their Mind, who would keep Children (
14 Fruit. [ 20, 21
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 or bad, ripe or
unripe, all that they can get, whenever they come at it.
5 Melons, Peaches, most sorts of Plums, and all sorts of
Grapes in England, I think Children should be wholly kept
from, as having a very tempting Taste, in a very unwhole
some Juice ; so that if it were possible, they should never
so much as see them, or know there were any such Thing.
10 But Strawberries, Cherries, Gooseberries, or Currans, when
thorough ripe, I think may be very safely allow d them,
and that with a pretty liberal Hand, if they be eaten with
these Cautions : i. Not after Meals, as we usually do,
when the Stomach is already full of other Food: But I
15 think they should be eaten rather before or between Meals,
and Children should have them for their Breakfast. 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 suited to the hot Season
20 of the Year they come in, refresh our Stomachs, languishing
and fainting under it ; and therefore 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 allow d
25 them would content them, whenever 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 gather d some Time, I think may be safely eaten at
30 any Time, and in pretty large Quantities, especially Apples ;
which never did any body Hurt, that I have heard, after
October.
Fruits also dry d without Sugar, I think very wholesome.
But Sweet-meats of all Kinds are to be avoided ; which,
35 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 inconve
nient Ways of Expence that Vanity hath yet found out; and
so I leave them to the Ladies.
21. Of all that looks soft and effeminate,
40 nothing is more to be indulg d Children, than
Sleep. In this alone they are to be permitted to have their
21] Sleep. 15
full Satisfaction; nothing contributing more to the Growth
and Health of Children, than Sleep. All that is to be
regulated in it, is, in what Part of the twenty-four Hours
they should take it ; which will easily be resolved, by only
saying that it is of great Use to accustom em to rise early 5
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 10
to be call d up early in the Morning, it will follow of course,
that they must go to Bed betimes ; whereby they will be
accustom d to avoid the unhealthy and unsafe Hours of
Debauchery, which are those of the Evenings; and they
who keep good Hours, seldom are guilty of any great 15
Disorders. I do not say this, as if your Son, when grown
up, should never be in Company past eight, nor ever chat
over a Glass of Wine till Midnight. You are now, by the
accustoming of his tender Years, to indispose him to those
Inconveniences as much as you can; and it will be no 20
small Advantage, that contrary Practice having made sitting
up uneasy to him, it will make him 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, tis worth the while to 25
accustom him to early Rising and early Going to Bed, be
tween 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 they will take, should be made to Children 30
when they are little; yet I do not mean, that it should
always be continued to them in so large a Proportion, and
they sufter d to indulge a drowsy Laziness in their Bed,
as they grow up bigger. But whether they should begin to
be restrained at seven or ten Years old, or any other Time, 35
is impossible to be precisely determined. Their Tempers,
Strength, and Constitutions, must be consider d. 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 40
generally Rest enough for healthy grown People. If you
1 6 Sleep and bedding. [ 21, 22
have accustom d him, as you should do, to rise constantly
very early in the Morning, this Fault of being too long in
Bed will easily be reform d, and most Children will be
forward enough to shorten that Time themselves, by covet-
5 ing to sit up with the Company at Night; tho if they be not
look d after, they will be apt to take it out in the Morning,
which should by no means be permitted. They should con
stantly be call d up and made to rise at their early Hour;
but great Care should be taken in waking them, that it be
10 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 waken d out of their Sleep, be sure
1 5 to begin with a low Call, and some gentle Motion, 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 dress d, you are sure they are
thoroughly awake. The being forc d from their Sleep, how
23 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 that may terrify them.
22. Let his Bed be hard, and rather Quilts than
Bf;d Feathers. Hard Lodging strengthens the Parts ;
25 whereas being bury d every Night in Feathers
melts and dissolves the Body, is often the Cause of Weak
ness, and 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 whidi is
30 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
35 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 design d to lie always in my young
Master s Bed at Home, and to have his Maid lay all Things
40 in Print, and tuck him in warm. The great Cordial of
Nature is Sleep. He that misses that, will sufter by it ; and
22 24] Action of the bowels. 17
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. Tis
Sleep only that is the Thing necessary. 5
23. One Thing more there is, which has a great Influ
ence upon the Health, and that is, goin? to Stool ,
C, OS 1 1 V6H SS
regularly: People that are very loose, have sel
dom strong Thoughts, or strong Bodies. But the Cure of
this, both by Diet and Medicine, being much more easy 10
than the contrary Evil, there needs not much to be said
about it : For if it come to threaten, either by its Violence
or Duration, it will soon enough, and sometimes too soon,
make a Physician be sent for; and if it be moderate or short,
it is commonly best to leave it to Nature. On the other 15
Side, Co stiveness has too its ill Effects, and is much harder to
be dealt with by Physick; purging Medicines, which seem
to give Relief, rather increasing them than removing the Evil.
24. It being an Indisposition I had a particular
Reason to enquire into, and not finding the Cure of it in 20
Books, I set my Thoughts on work, believing that greater
Changes than that might be made in our Bodies, if we took
the right Course, and proceeded by rational Steps.
1. Then I consider d, that Going to Stool, was the Effect
of certain Motions of the Body; especially of the peristaltick 25
ITotion of the Guts.
2. I consider d, that several Motions, that were not
perfectly voluntary, might yet, by Use and constant Appli
cation, be brought to be habitual, if by an unintermitted
Custom they were at certain Seasons endeavour d to be 30
constantly produced.
3. I had observ d some Men, who by taking after
Supper a Pipe of Tobacco, never fail d of a Stool, and began
to doubt with myself, whether it were not more Custom,
than the Tobacco, that gave them the Benefit of Nature; or 35
at least, if the Tobacco did it, it was rather by exciting a
vigorous Motion in the Guts, than by any purging Quality;
for then it would have had other Effects.
Having thus once got the Opinion that it was possible
to make it habitual, the next Thing was to consider what 40
Way and Means was the likeliest to obtain it.
iS Action of the bowels. [ 24 27
4. Then I guess d, that if a Man, after his first eating
in the Morning, would presently solicit Nature, and try
whether he could strain himself so as to obtain a Stool, he
might in Time, by a constant Application, bring it to be
5 habitual.
25. The Reasons that made me chuse this Time, were,
1. Because the Stomach being then empty, if it re-
ceiv d any Thing grateful to it (for I would never, but in
Case of Necessity, have any one eat but what he likes, and
10 when he has an Appetite) it was apt to embrace it close by
a strong Constriction of its Fibres; which Constriction, I
suppos d, might probably be continu d on in the Guts, and
so increase their peristaltick Motion, as we see in the Ileus,
that an inverted Motion, being begun any where below,
15 continues itself all the whole Length, and makes even the
Stomach obey that irregular Motion.
2. Because when Men eat, they usually relax their
Thoughts, and the Spirits then, free from other Employ
ments, are more vigorously distributed into the lower Belly,
20 which thereby contribute to the same Effect.
3. Because, whenever Men have Leisure to eat, they
have Leisure enough also to make so much Court to Madam
Cloacina, as would be necessary to our present Purpose;
but else, in the Variety of human Affairs and Accidents, it
25 was impossible to affix it to any Hour certain, whereby the
Custom would be interrupted. Whereas Men in Health
seldom failing to eat once a Day, tho the Hour chang d,
the Custom might still be preserv d.
26. Upon these Grounds the Experiment began to be
30 try d, and I have known none who have been steady in the
Prosecution of it, and taken Care to go constantly to the
Necessary-House, after their first eating, whenever that
happen d, whether they found themselves call d on or no,
and there endeavour to put Nature upon her Duty, but in a
35 few Months they obtain d the desired Success, and brought
themselves to so regular an Habit, that they seldom ever
fail d of a Stool after their first eating, unless it were by their
own Neglect: For, whether they have any Motion or no, if
they go the Place, and do their Part, they are sure to have
40 Nature very obedient.
27. I would therefore advise, that this Course should
2729] Medicine. ig
be taken with a Child every Day presently after he has eaten
his Breakfast. Let him be set upon the Stool, as if dis-
burthening were as much in his Power as filling his Belly;
and let not him or his Maid know any thing to the contrary,
but that it is so; and if he be forc d to endeavour, by being 5
hinder d from his Play or eating again till he has been
effectually at Stool, or at least done his utmost, I doubt not
but in a little while it will become natural to him. For
there is reason to suspect, that Children being usually intent
on their Play, and very heedless of any Thing else, often let 10
pass those Motions of Nature, when she calls them but
gently; and so they, neglecting the seasonable Offers, do by
degrees bring themselves into an habitual Costiveness. That
by this Method costiveness may be prevented, I do more
than guess ; having known by the constant Practice of it for 15
some Time, a Child brought to have a Stool regularly after
his Breakfast every Morning.
28. How far any grown People will think fit to make
Trial of it, must be left to them; tho I cannot but say, that
considering the many Evils that come from that Defect, of a 20
requisite Easing of Nature, I scarce know any Thing more
conducing to the Preservation of Health, than this is.
Once in four and twenty Hours, I think is enough; and no
body, I guess, will think it too much. And by this Means
it is to be obtain d without Physick, which commonly proves 25
very ineffectual in the Cure of a settled and habitual Cos
tiveness.
29. This is all I have to trouble you with concerning
his Management in the ordinary Course of his Health.
Perhaps it will be expected from me, that I should give 30
some Directions of Physick, to prevent Diseases;
for which I have only this one, very sacredly to
be observ d, never to give Children any Physick for Preven
tion. The Observation of what I have already advis d, will,
I suppose, do that better than the Ladies Diet-drinks or 3 5
Apothecaries Medicines. Have a great Care of tampering
that Way, lest, instead of preventing, you draw on Diseases.
Nor even upon every little Indisposition is Physick to be
given, or the Physician to be call d to Children, especially
if he be a busy Man, that will presently fill their Windows 40
with Gally-pots, and their Stomachs with Drugs. It is safer
2 2
20 Mind formed by Education. [ 29 32
to leave them wholly to Nature, than to put em into the
Hands of one forward to tamper, or that thinks Children
are to be curd, in ordinary Distempers, by any Thing but
Diet, or by a Method very little distant from it: It seeming
5 suitable both to my Reason and Experience, that the tender
Constitutions of Children should have as little done to them
as is possible, and as the absolute Necessity of the Case
requires. A little cold-still d red Poppy-water, which is the
true Surfeit-water, with Ease, and Abstinence from Flesh,
10 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 form d Disease, it will be time to seek the Advice of some
15 sober and discreet Physician. In this Part, I hope, I shall
find an easy Belief; and no body can have a Pretence to
doubt the Advice of one who has spent some Time in the
Study of Physick, when he counsels you not to be too
forward in making use of Physick and Physicians.
20 30. And thus I have done with what concerns the
Body and Health, which reduces itself to these few and easy
observable Rules : Plenty of open Air, Exercise, and Sleep,
plain Diet, no Wine or strong Drink, and very little or no
Physick, not too warm and strait Clothing, especially the
25 Head z\\& Feet kept cold, and the Feet often us d to cold
Water, and expos d to wet.
31. 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
30 Business is, to set the Mind right, that on all
Occasions it may be dispos d to consent to nothing but what
may be suitable to the Dignity and Excellency of a rational
Creature.
32. If what I have said in the beginning of this Dis-
35 course 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 giving them that Season-
40 ing early, which shall influence their Lives always after:
For when they do well or ill, the Praise and Blame will be
3 2 35] Self-denial must be taught early. 21
laid there; and when any Thing is done awkwardly, the
common saying will pass upon them, that it s suitable to
their Breeding.
33. As the Strength of the Body lies chiefly in being
able to endure Hardships, so also does that of the Mind. 5
And the great Principle and Foundation of all Virtue and
Worth is plac d in this : That a Man is able to deny /iim-
se/fhis own Desires, cross his own Inclinations, and purely
follow what Reason directs as best, tho the Appetite lean
the other Way. 10
34. The great Mistake I have observ d in People s
breeding their Children, has been, that this has
not been taken Care enough of in its due Season;
that the Mind has not been made obedient to Discipline,
and pliant to Reason, when at first it was most tender, most 15
easy to be bow d. Parents being wisely ordain d by Na
ture 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 tis
their Duty; but they often, with them, cherish their Faults 20
too. They must not be cross d, 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 safe enough indulge their Irregularities, and
make themselves Sport with that pretty Perverseness which 25
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 excus d it, saying it was a small
Matter, Solon very well reply d, Aye, but Custom is a great
one. 30
35. 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 cocker
ing them when little, corrupt the Principles of Nature in
their Children, and wonder afterwards to taste the bitter 35
Waters, when they themselves have poison d the Foun
tain. For when their Children are grown up, and these
ill Habits with them; when they are now too big to be
dandled, and their Parents can no longer make Use of
them as Play-things, then they complain that the Brats are 40
untoward and perverse ; then they are offended to see them
22 Spoiling children and its results. [ 35, 36
wilful, and are troubled with those ill Humours which they
themselves infus dand fomented 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
5 deep Root to be easily extirpated. For he that hath been
us d 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? Indeed,
as he grows more towards a Man, Age shews his Faults
10 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,
15 is stronger and wiser than he was then, why now of a sudden
must he be restrain d and curb d ? Why must he at seven,
fourteen, or twenty Years old, lose the Privilege, which the
Parents Indulgence till then so largely allow d him ? Try
it in a Dog or an Horse or any other Creature, and see
20 whether the ill and resty Tricks they have learn d 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.
2 5 36- We are generally wise enough to begin with them
when they are very young, and discipline betimes 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
30 expect they should be good Men. For if the Child must
have Grapes or Sugar-plumbs 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 satisfy d too,
if his Desires carry him to Wine or Women? They are
35 Objects as suitable to the Longing of one of more Years, as
what he cry d for, when little, was to the Inclinations of a
Child. The having Desires accommodated to the Appre
hensions and Relish of those several Ages, is not the Fault ;
but the not having them subject to the Rules and Restraints
40 of Reason: The Difference lies not in having or not having
Appetites, but in the Power to govern, and deny our selves
3*>, 37] Training in cruelty and vanity. 23
in them. He that is not us d to submit his Will to the
Reason of others when he is young, will scarce hearken to
submit to his own Reason when he is of an Age to make
Use of it. And what kind of a Man such an one is like to
prove, is easy to foresee. 5
37. These are Oversights usually committed by those
who seem to take the greatest Care of their Children s Edu
cation. But if we look into the common Management of
Children, we shall have Reason to wonder, in the great
Dissoluteness of Manners which the World complains of, 10
that there are any Footsteps at all left of Virtue. I desire
to know what Vice can be nam d, which Parents, and those
about Children, do not season them with, and drop into
em the Seeds of, as soon as they are capable to receive
them? I do not mean by the Examples they give, and 15
the Patterns they set before them, which is Encourage
ment enough; but that which I would take notice of here
is, the downright teaching them Vice, and actual putting
them out of the Way of Virtue. Before they can go, they
principle em with Violence, Revenge, and Cruelty. Give 20
me a Bl<m>, 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 to do any Mischief. But I
ask, Does not this corrupt their Mind ? Is not this the
Way of Force and Violence, that they are set in ? And if 25
they have been taught when little, to strike and hurt others
by Proxy, and encourag d to rejoice in the Harm they have
brought upon them, and see them suffer, are they not
prepar d to do it when they are strong enough to be felt
themselves, and can strike to some Purpose ? 30
The Coverings of our Bodies which are for Modesty,
Warmth and Defence, are by the Folly or Vice of Parents
recommended to their Children for other Uses. They are
made Matters of Vanity and Emulation. A Child is set
a- longing after a new Suit, for the Finery of it; and when the 35
little Girl is trick d up in her new Gown and Commode, how
can her Mother 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 40
to value themselves for their Outside Fashionableness of the
24 Training in lying and intemperance. [ 37
Taylor or Tirewoman s Making, when their Parents have so
early instructed them to do so ?
Lying and Equivocations, and Excuses little different
from Lying, are put into the Mouths of young People, and
5 commended in Apprentices and Children, whilst they are
for their Master s or Parents Advantage. And can it be
thought, that he that finds the Straining of Truth dispens d
with, and encourag d, whilst it is for his godly Master s
Turn, will not make Use of that Privilege for himself, when
TO it may be for his own Profit?
Those of the meaner Sort are hinder d, by the Straitness
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 Exam-
15 pies, whenever Plenty comes in their Way, shew, that tis
not the Dislike of Drunkenness or Gluttony, that keeps
them from Excess, but want of Materials. But if we look
into the Houses of those who are a little warmer in their
Fortunes, their Eating and Drinking are made so much
20 the great Business and Happiness of Life, that Children are
thought neglected, if they have not their Share of it. Sauces
and Ragoos, and Food disguis d by all the Arts of Cookery,
must tempt their Palates, when their Bellies are full ; and
then, for fear the Stomach should be overcharg d, a Pretence
25 is found for t other Glass of Wine to help Digestion, tho 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 thec? Eating and Drinking are instantly press d; and
30 every body s Invention is set on Work to find out something
luscious and delicate enough 10 prevail over that Want of
Appetite, which Nature has wisely order d in the Beginning
of Distempers, as a Defence against their Increase ; that
being freed from the ordinary Labour of digesting any new
35 Load in the Stomach, she may be at leisure to correct and
master the peccant Humours.
And where Children are so happy in the Care of their
Parents, as by their Prudence to be kept from the Excess of
their Tables, to the Sobriety of a plain and simple Diet, yet
40 there too they are scarce to be preserv d from the Contagion
that poisons the Mind; though, by a discreet Management
37,3 8 ] Safeguard in early training to self-denial. 25
whilst they are under Tuition, their Healths perhaps may be
pretty well secure, yet their Desires must needs yield to the
Lessons which every 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 5
natural Appetites, and bring them quickly to the Liking
and Expence of a fashionable Table. This shall have from
every one, even the Reprovers of Vice, the Title of Living
well. And what shall sullen Reason dare to say against
the publick Testimony? Or can it hope to be heard, if it 10
should call that Luxury, which is so much own d and uni
versally practis d by those of the best Quality ?
This is now so grown a Vice, and has so great Supports,
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 1 5
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 censur d as a little Satire out of my Way, did I not
mention it with this View, that it might awaken the Care and
Watchfulness of Parents in the Education of their Children, 20
when they see how they are beset on every Side, not only
with Temptations, but Instructors to Vice, and that, per
haps, 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 shew what Pains are 25
us d to corrupt Children, and instil Principles of Vice into
them: But I desire Parents soberly to consider, what Irre
gularity or Vice there is which Children are not visibly
taught, and whether it be not their Duty and Wisdom to
provide them other Instructions. 30
38. It seems plain to me, that the Principle of all
Virtue and Excellency lies in a Power of denying
our selves the Satisfaction of our own Desires,
where Reason does not authorize them. This Power is to
be got and improv d by Custom, made easy and familiar by 35
an early Practice. If therefore I might be heard, I would
advise, that, contrary to the ordinary Way, Children should
be us d to submit their Desires, and go without their
Longings, even from their very Cradles. The first Thing they
should learn to know, should be, that they were not to have 40
any Thing because it pleas d them, but because it was
26 Do not reward importunity. [ 38, 39
thought fit for them. If Things suitable to their Wants
were supply d to them, so that they were never suffer d to
have what they once cry d for, they would learn to be con
tent without it, would never, with Bawling and Peevishness,
5 contend for Mastery, nor be half so uneasy to themselves
and others as they are, because from the first Beginning
they are not thus handled. If they were never suffer d to
obtain their Desire by the Impatience they express d for it,
they would no more cry for another Thing, than they do for
10 the Moon.
39. I say not this, as if Children were not to be
indulg d in any Thing, or that I expected they should in
Hanging-Sleeves have the Reason and Conduct of Counsel
lors. I consider them as Children, who must be tenderly
1 5 us d, who must play, and have Play-things. That which I
mean, is, that whenever they crav d what was not fit for
them to have or do, they should not be permitted it because
they were /////<?, and desir d it: Nay, whatever they were
importunate for, they should be sure, for that very Reason,
20 to be deny d. I have seen Children at a Table, who,
whatever was there, never ask d for any Thing, but con
tentedly took what was given them : And at another Place,
I have seen others cry for every thing they saw ; must be
serv d out of every Dish, and that first too. What made
25 this vast difference but this? that one was accustom d to
have what theycall dor cry d for, the other to go without it.
The younger they are, the less I think are their unruly and
disorderly Appetites to be comply d with ; and the less
Reason they have of their own, the more are they to be
30 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
35 Fashion, I should not need to trouble the World with a Dis
course on this Subject. But yet I doubt not, but when it is
consider d, there will be others of Opinion with me, that the
sooner this Way is begun with Children, the easier it will be
for them and their Governors too ; and that this ought to be
40 observ d as an inviolable Maxim, that whatever once is
deny d them, they are certainly not to obtain by Crying or
39 4 1 ] Parent and Child. 27
Importunity, unless one has a Mind to teach them to be
impatient and troublesome, by rewarding them for it when
they are so.
40. Those therefore that intend ever to govern their
Children, should begin it whilst they are very Earl 5
little, and look that they perfectly comply with
the Will of their Parents. Would you have your Son obe
dient to you when past a Child ; be sure then to establish
the Authority of a Father as soon as he is capable of Sub
mission, and can understand in whose Power he is. If you 10
would have him stand in awe of you, imprint it in his
Infancy ; and as he approaches more to a Man, 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 15
mightily misplace the Treatment due to their Children, who
are indulgent and familiar when they are little, but severe to
them, and keep them at a distance, when they are grown
up : For Liberty and Indulgence can do no good to Chil
dren; their Want of Judgment makes them stand in need 20
of Restraint and Discipline ; and on the contrary, Imperi-
ousness and Severity is but an ill Way of treating Men, who
have Reason 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, 25
Father ?
41. 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 30
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 mention d, if I mistake not, is the only one
to obtain this. We must look upon our Children, when
grown up, to be like our selves, with the same Passions, the 35
same Desires. We would be thought rational Creatures,
and have our Freedom ; we love not to be uneasy under
constant Rebukes 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, 40
28 Father and Son. [ 41 43
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
5 having known any other : And if, as they grow up to the
Use of Reason, the Rigour of Government be, as they
deserve it, gently relax d, the Father s Brow more smooth d
to them, and the Distance by Degrees abated, his former
Restraints will increase their Love, when they find it was
10 only a Kindness to them, and a Care to make them capable
to deserve the Favour of their Parents, and the Esteem of
every Body else.
42. Thus much for the settling your Authority over
your Children in general. Fear and Awe ought to give you
15 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
20 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 nevertheless ill and wicked in private ; and
that Restraint will not last always. Every Man must some
25 Time or other be trusted to himself and his own Conduct;
and he that is a good, a virtuous, and able Man, must be
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
30 very Principles of his Nature, and not a counterfeit Car
riage, and dissembled Outside, put on by Fear, only to
avoid the present Anger of a Father who perhaps may
disinherit him.
43. This being laid down in general, as the Course
jc that ought to be taken, tis fit we now come to
vJJ Punishments. . , . - r , . . ,. , , ,
consider the Parts of the Discipline to be us d,
a little more particularly. I have spoken so much of carry
ing a strict Hand over Children, that perhaps I shall be
suspected of not considering enough, what is due to their
40 tender Age and Constitutions. But that Opinion will vanish,
43 45] How to avoid Punishments. 29
when you have heard me a little farther : For I am very apt
to think, that great Severity of Punishment does but very
little Good, nay, great Harm in Education ; and I believe
it will be found that, azteris paribus, those Children who
have been most chastised, seldom make the best Men. All 5
that I have hitherto contended for, is, that whatsoever Rigor
is necessary, it is more to be us d, the younger Children
are ; and having by a due Application wrought its Effect, it
is to be relax d, and chang d into a milder Sort of Govern
ment. 10
44. A Compliance and Suppleness of their Wills,
being by a steady Hand introduc d by Parents, .
before Children have Memories to retain the
Beginnings of it, will seem natural to them, and work after
wards in them as if it were so, preventing all Occasions 01 15
struggling or repining. The only Care is, that it be begun
early, and inflexibly kept to till Awe and Respect be grown
familiar, and there appears not the least Reluctancy in the
Submission, and ready Obedience of their Minds. When
this Reverence is once thus established, (which it must be 20
early, or else it will cost Pains and Blows to recover it, and
the more the longer it is deferr d) tis by it, still mix d with
as much Indulgence as they make not an ill use of, and not
by Beating, Chiding, or other servile Punishments, they are
for the future to be govern d as they grow up to -more 25
Understanding.
45. That this is so, will be easily allow cl, when it is
but consider d, what is to be aim d at in an
_ . . Self-denial.
ingenuous Education; and upon what it turns.
i. He that has not a Mastery over his Inclinations, he 30
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 In
dustry, and is in danger never to be good for any Thing.
This Temper therefore, so contrary to unguided Nature, is 35
to be got betimes ; and this Habit, as the true Foundation
of future Ability and Happiness, is to be wrought into the
Mind as early as may be, even from the first Dawnings of
Knowledge or Apprehension in Children, and so to be
connrm d in them, by all the Care and Ways imaginable, by 40
those who have the Oversight of their Education.
30 Against corporal punishments. [ 46 48
46. 2. On the other Side, if the Mind be curb d,
and humbled too much in Children ; if their
Spirits be abas d and broken much, by too strict
an Hand over them, they lose all their Vigour and Industry,
5 and are in a worse State than the former. For extravagant
young Fellows, that have Liveliness and Spirit, come some
times 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 rais d, and very seldom attain to any
10 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
15 say, that knows how to reconcile these seeming Contradic
tions, has, in my Opinion, got the true Secret of Education.
47. The usual lazy and short Way by Chastisement
and the Rod, which is the only Instrument of Government
Beat tnat Tutors generally know, or ever think of, is
20 the most unfit of any to be us d in Education,
because it tends to both those Mischiefs; which, as we
have shewn, are the Scylla and Charybdis, which on the one
hand or the other ruin all that miscarry.
48. i. This Kind of Punishment contributes not at
25 all to the Mastery of our natural Propensity to indulge cor
poral and present Pleasure, and to avoid Pain 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. For what other Motive, but
30 of sensual Pleasure and Pain, does a Child act by, 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 corporal Pleasure, or avoids the greater corporal
35 Pain. And what is it, to govern his Actions, and direct his
Conduct by such Motives as these ? What is it, I say, but
to cherish that Principle 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
40 for having done amiss, does not work more upon him than
the Pain.
49 5 2 ] Harm from Severity. 31
49. 2. This Sort of Correction naturally breeds an
Aversion to that which tis 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 acceptable to them,
when they find themselves whipped, and chid, and teas d 5
about them? And it is not to be wonder d at in them,
when grown Men would not be able to be reconcil d 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 Bloius or ill Language be haled 10
to it, when he had no Mind ? Or be constantly so treated,
for some Circumstances in his Application to it ? This is
natural to be so. Offensive Circumstances ordinarily infect
innocent Things which they are join d with ; and the very
Sight of a Cup wherein any one uses to take nauseous 15
Physick, turns his Stomach, so that nothing will relish well
out of it, tho the Cup be never so clean and well-shap d, and
of the richest Materials.
50. 3. Such a Sort of slavish Discipline makes a
slavish Temper. The Child submits, and dissembles Obe- 20
dience, whilst the Fear of the Rod hangs over him ; but
when that is remov d, 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 alter d,
but, on the contrary, heighten d and increas d in him; and 25
after such restraint, breaks out usually with the more Vio
lence; or,
51. 4. If Severity carry d to the highest Pitch does
prevail, and works a Cure upon the present unruly Dis
temper, it often brings in the room of it a worse and 30
more dangerous Disease, by breaking the Mind ; and
then, in the Place of a disorderly young Fellow, you have a
low spirited moap d Creature, who, however with his unnatu
ral Sobriety he may please silly People, who commend tame
unactive Children, because they make no Noise, nor give 35
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.
52. Beating them, and all other Sorts of slavish and
corporal Punishments, are not the Discipline fit 40
- , , , Rewards,
to be used in the Education of those we would
32 Harm from injudicious rewards. [ 52, 53
have wise, good, and ingenuous Men ; and therefore very
rarely to be apply d, and that only in great Occasions, and
Cases of Extremity. On the other Side, to flatter Children
by Rewards of Things that are pleasant to them, is as care-
5 fully to be avoided. He that will give to his Son Apples
or Sugar-Plumbs, or what else of this kind he is most
delighted with, to make him learn his Book, does but autho
rize his Love of Pleasure, and cocker up that dangerous
Propensity, which he ought by all Means to subdue and
10 stifle in him. You can never hope to teach him to master
it. whilst you compound for the Check you gave his Incli
nation in one Place, by the Satisfaction you propose to it in
another. To make a good, a wise, and a virtuous Man,
tis fit he should learn to cross his Appetite, and deny his
15 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 reward the Pains of Learn
ing his Book by the Pleasure of a luscious Morsel ; when
20 you promise him a Lace-Cravat or a fine new Suit, upon
Performance of some of his little Tasks; what do you by
proposing these as Rewards, but allow them to be the good
Things he should aim at, and thereby encourage his Long
ing for em, and accustom him to place his Happiness in
25 them? Thus People, to prevail with Children to be indus
trious about their Grammar, Dancing, or some other such
Matter, of no great Moment to the Happiness or Usefulness
of their Lives, by misapply d Rewards and Punishments,
sacrifice their Virtue, invert the Order of their Education,
30 and teach them Luxury, Pride, or Covetousness, &c. For
in this Way, flattering those wrong Inclinations which they
should restrain and suppress, they lay the Foundations of
those future Vices, which cannot be avoided but by curbing
our Desires and accustoming them early to submit to
35 Reason.
53. I say not this, that I would have Children kept
from the Conveniences or Pleasures of Life, that are not
injurious to their Health or Virtue. On the contrary, I
would have their Lives made as pleasant and as agreeable
40 to them as may be, in a plentiful Enjoyment of whatsoever
might innocently delight them; provided it be with this
53 55] Rewards and Punishments. 33
Caution, that they have those Enjoyments, only as the Con
sequences of the State of Esteem and Acceptation they are
in with their Parents and Governors; but they should never
be offer" d or bestow d on them, as the Rewards of this or
that particular Performance, that they shew an Aversion to, 5
or to which they would not have apply d themselves without
that Temptation.
54. 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 Children be govern d? 10
Remove Hope and Fear, and there is an End of all Dis
cipline. I grant that Good and Evil, Reward and Punish
ment, are the only Motives to a rational Creature: These
are the Spur and Reins whereby all Mankind are set on
Work, and guided, and therefore they are to be made use of 15
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.
55. Rewards, I grant, and Punishments must be pro
posed to Children, if we intend to work upon them. The 20
Mistake I imagine is, that those that are generally made use
of, are /// 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 strength- 25
en those Inclinations, which tis 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 Pro
posal of another? This is but to enlarge his Appetite, and
instruct it to wander. If a Child cries for an unwholsome 30
and dangerous Fruit, you purchase his Quiet by giving him
a less hurtful Sweet-meat. 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 satisfy d, wherein, 35
as I have shew d, 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 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 40
whence all the Evil flows, which will be sure on the next
34 Right management of praise and blame. [ 55 58
Occasion to break out again with more Violence, give him
stronger Longings, and you more Trouble.
56. The Rewards and Punishments then, whereby we
should keep Children in Order, are quite of
Reputation. . ,.. . * , , _ , _
5 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 powerful Incentives to the Mind, when
once it is brought to relish them. If you can once get into
TO Children a Love of Credit, and an Apprehension of Shame
and Disgrace, you have put into em the true Principle,
which will constantly work and incline them to the right.
But it will be ask d, How shall this be done?
I confess it does not at first Appearance want some
15 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.
57. First, Children (earlier perhaps than we think)
are very sensible of Praise and Commendation. They find
20 a Pleasure in being esteem d and valu d, especially by their
Parents and those whom they depend on. If therefore the
Father caress and commend them when they do well, shew a
cold and neglectful Countenance to them upon doing ill, and
this accompany d by a like Carriage of the Mother and all
25 others that are about them, it will, in a little Time, make
them sensible of the Difference ; and this, if constantly
observ d, I doubt not but will of itself work more than
Threats or Blows, which lose their Force when once grown
common, and are of no Use when Shame does not attend
30 them; and therefore are to be forborne, and never to be us d,
but in the Case hereafter-mention d, when it is brought to
Extremity.
58. But Secondly, To make the Sense of Esteem or
Disgrace sink the deeper, and be of the more Weight, other
35 agreeable or disagreeable Things should constantly accompany
these different States; not as particular Rewards and Punish
ments of this or that particular Action, but as necessarily
belonging to, and constantly attending one, who by his
Carriage has brought himself into a State of Disgrace or
40 Commendation. By which Way of treating them, Children
may as much as possible be brought to conceive, that those
5 8 > 59] Difficulty from Servants. 35
that are commended, and in Esteem for doing well, will
necessarily be belov d and cherish d 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 Dises-
teem, and cares not to preserve his Credit, he will unavoid- 5
ably fall under Neglect and Contempt; and in that State,
the Want of whatever might satisfy or delight him will follow.
In this Way the Objects of their Desires are made assisting
to Virtue, when a settled Experience from the Beginning
teaches Children that the Things they delight in, belong 10
to, and are to be enjoy d 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 15
as you please, and they will be in Love with all the Ways of
Virtue.
59. The great Difficulty here is, I imagine, from the
Folly and Perverseness of Servants, who are hardly to be
hinder d from crossing herein the Design of the Father and 20
Mother. Children discountenanc d by their Parents for any
Fault, find usually a Refuge and Relief in the Caresses of
those foolish Flatterers, who thereby undo whatever the
Parents endeavour to establish. When the Father or Mother
looks sowre on the Child, every Body else should put on 25
the same Coldness to him, and no body give him Counte
nance, till Forgiveness ask d, and a Reformation of his
Fault has set him right again, and restor d him to his for
mer Credit. If this were constantly observ d, I guess there
would be little Need of Blows or Chiding : Their own Ease 30
and Satisfaction would quickly teach Children to court
Commendation, and avoid doing that which they found
every Body condemn d 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 35
a natural Abhorrence for that which they found v made them
slighted and neglected by every Body. But how this Incon
venience from Servants is to be remedy d, I must leave to
Parents Care and Consideration. Only I think it of great
Importance ; and that they are very happy who can get 40
discreet People about their Children.
32
36 The sense of Shame. [ 60, 61
60. Frequent Beating or Chiding is therefore carefully
shame to ^ e avoided: Because this Sort of Correction
never produces any Good, farther than it serves
to raise Shame and Abhorrence of the Miscarriage that
5 brought it on them. And if the greatest Part of the Trouble
be not the Sense that they have done amiss, and the Ap
prehension that they have drawn on themselves the just
Displeasure of their best Friends, the Pain of Whipping
will work but an imperfect Cure. It only patches up for
10 the present, and skins it over, but reaches not to the Bottom
of the Sore; ingenuous Shame, and the Apprehensions of
Displeasure, are the only true Restraint. These alone
ought to hold the Reins, and keep the Child in Order. But
corporal Punishments must necessarily lose that Effect, and
15 wear out the Sense of S/iame, where they frequently re
turn. Shame in Children has the same Place that Modesty
has in Women, which cannot be kept and often transgress d
against. And as to the Apprehension of Displeasure in the
Parents, that will come to be very insignificant, if the Marks
20 of that Displeasure quickly cease, and a few Blows fully
expiate. Parents should well consider what Faults in their
Children are weighty enough to deserve the Declaration of
of their Anger: But when their Displeasure is once declar d
to a Degree that carries any Punishment with it, they ought
25 not presently to lay by the Severity of their Brows, but to
restore their Children to their former Grace with some
Difficulty, and delay a full Reconciliation, till their Confor
mity and more than ordinary Merit, make good their
Amendment. If this be not so order d, Punishment will,
30 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.
6 1. Concerning Reputation, I shall only remark this
35 one Thing more of it, that though it be not the
Reputation. _ . . , . , - ^ . ,.. .
true Principle and Measure of Virtue, (for that
is the Knowledge of a Man s Duty, and the Satisfaction it is
to obey his Maker, in following the Dictates of that Light
God has given him, with the Hopes of Acceptation and
40 Reward) yet it is that which comes nearest to it: And being
the Testimony and Applause that other People s Reason, as
6 1 63] Praise in public, Blame in private. 37
it were by a common Consent, gives to virtuous and well-
order d 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.
62. This Consideration may direct Parents how to 5
manage themselves in reproving and commending their
Children. The Rebukes and Chiding, which their 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 Commendations Children deserve, they 10
should receive before others. This doubles the Reward, by
spreading their Praise; but the Backwardness Parents shew
in divulging 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 15
think they have it : But when being expos d 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 20
blemish d.
63. But if a right Course be taken with Children,
there will not be so much need of the Application of the
common Rewards and Punishments as we imagine, and as
the general Practice has establish d. For all their innocent 25
Folly, Playing, and childish Actions, are to be ChildishnesSf
left perfectly free and unrestrained, as far as they
can consist 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 30
should be, left only to Time and Imitation and riper Years
to cure, Children would escape a great deal of misapply d
and useless Correction, which either fails to overpower the
natural Disposition of their Childhood, and so by an ineffec
tual Familiarity, makes Correction in other necessary Cases 35
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 40
Parents are) a Look or a VVord from the Father or Mother,
38 Practice rather than Precept. [ 63 65
if they have establish d the Authority they should, will be
enough 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 encourag d to
5 keep up their Spirits, and improve their Strength and Health,
than curb d and restrain d; and the chief Art is to make all
that they have to do, Sport and Play too.
64. And here give me leave to take Notice of one
Rula Thing I think a Fault in the ordinary Method
10 of Education ; and that is, the charging of
Children s Memories, upon all Occasions, with Rules and
Precepts, which they often do not understand, and constant
ly as soon forget as given. If it be some Action you would
have done, or done otherwise, whenever they forget, or do
15 it awkwardly, make them do it over and over again, till they
are perfect ; whereby you will get these two Advantages.
first, To see whether 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,
20 and had need be taught and exercis d in before they are
requir d to do them. But it is much easier for a Tutor to
command than to teach. Secondly, 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
25 Memory or Reflection, the Concomitant of Prudence and
Age, and not of Childhood, 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 natural to a well-bred Man, as breathing; it requires
30 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 Habits you
please.
65. I have seen Parents so heap Rules on their Child-
35 ren, that it was impossible for the poor little Ones to re
member a tenth Part of them, much less to observe them.
However, they were either by Words or Blows corrected lor
the Breach of those multiply d and often very impertinent
Precepts. Whence it naturally follow d that the Children
40 minded not what was said to them, when it was evident to
them that no Attention they were capable of was sufficient
65, 66] Few Rules. 39
to preserve them from Transgression, and the Rebukes
which follow d it.
Let therefore your Rules to your Son be as few as possi
ble, and rather fewer than more than seem absolutely neces
sary. For if you burden him with many Rules, one of these 5
two Things must necessarily follow; that either he must be
very often punish d, which will be of ill Consequence, by
making Punishment too frequent and familiar; or else you
must let the Transgressions of some of your Rules go un-
punish d, whereby they will of course grow contemptible, 10
and your Authority become cheap to him. Make but few
Laws, but see they be well observ d when once made. Few
Years require but few Laws, and as his Age increases, when
one Rule is by Practice well establish d, you may add another.
66. But pray remember, Children are not to be taught 15
by Rules which will be always slipping out of their Memo
ries. 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.
fni Mi i -rr ^ i 1 1 1 HaDltS.
This will beget Habits in them, which being 20
once establish d, operate of themselves easily and naturally,
without the Assistance of the Memory. But here let me
give two Cautions, i. 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 25
minding them of what they forget, than by harsh Rebukes
and Chiding, as if they were wilfully guilty. 2. Another
Thing you are to take Care of, is, not to endeavour to settle
too many Habits at once, lest by Variety you confound
them, and so perfect none. When constant Custom has 3
made any one Thing easy and natural to em, and they prac
tise it without Reflection, you may then go on to another.
This Method of teaching Children by a repeated
Practice, and the same Action done over and Practice
over again, under the Eye and Direction of the 35
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 wonder d at in any Thing)
how it could possibly be so much neglected. I shall name 40
one more that comes now in my Way. By this Method we
40 Nature. Affectation. [ 66
shall see whether what is requir d of him be adapted to his
Capacity, and any Way suited to the Child s natural Genius
and Constitution; for that too must be consider d in a right
Education. We must not hope wholly to change their
5 original Tempers, nor make the Gay pensive and grave, nor the
Melancholy sportive, without spoiling them. God has
stamp d certain Characters upon Men s Minds, which like
their Shapes, may perhaps be a little mended, but can
hardly be totally alter d and transform d into the contrary.
10 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 improv d, and what
it is fit for: He should consider what they want, whether
1 5 they be capable of having it wrought into them by Industry,
and incorporated there by Practice; and whether it be worth
while to endeavour it. For in many Cases, all that we can
do, or should aim at, is, to make the best of what Nature
has given, to prevent the Vices and Faults to which such
20 a Constitution is most inclin d, and give it all the Advantages
it is capable of. Every one s natural Genius should be
carry d as far as it could; but to attempt the putting another
upon him, will be but Labour in vain; and what is so
plaister d on, will at best sit but untowardly, and have always
25 hanging to it the Ungracefulness of Constraint and Affecta
tion.
Affectation is not, I confess, an early Fault of Childhood,
Affectation or tne P r duct of untaught Nature. It is
of that Sort of Weeds which grow not in the
30 wild uncultivated Waste, but in Garden-Plots, under the
negligent Hand or unskilful Care of a Gardener. Manage
ment and Instruction, and some Sense of the Necessity
of Breeding, are requisite to make any one capable of Affec
tation, which endeavours to correct natural Defects, and has
35 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 care
fully to be watch d, because it is the proper Fault of Edu
cation ; a perverted Education indeed, but such as young
40 People often fall into, either by their own Mistake, or the
ill Conduct of those about them.
66] What is Affectation? 41
He that will examine wherein that Gracefulness lies,
which always pleases, will find it arises from that natural
Coherence which appears between the Thing done and
such a Temper of Mind as cannot but be approv d of as
suitable to the Occasion. We cannot but be pleas d with 5
an humane, friendly, civil Temper, wherever we meet with it.
A Mind free, and Master of itself and all its Actions, not
low and narrow, not haughty and insolent, not blemish d
with any great Defect, is what every one is taken with. The
Actions which naturally flow from such a well-form d Mind, 10
please us also, as the genuine Marks of it; and being as it
were natural Emanations from the Spirit and Disposition
within, cannot but be easy and unconstrain d. This seems
to me to be that Beauty which shines through some Men s
Actions, sets off all that they do, and takes all they come 15
near; when by a constant Practice, they have fashion d their
Carriage, and made all those little Expressions of Civility
and Respect, which Nature or Custom has establish d in
Conversation, so easy to themselves, that they seem not
artificial or studied, but naturally to follow from a Sweetness 20
of Mind and a well-turn d Disposition.
On the other Side, Affectation is an awkward and forc d
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 25
the Mind within, one of these two Ways : i. Either when
a Man would outwardly put on a Disposition of Mind,
which then he really has not, but endeavours by a forc d
Carriage to make shew of; yet so, that the Constraint he is
under discovers itself : And thus Men affect sometimes to 30
appear sad, merry, or kind, when in truth they are not so.
2. The other is, when they do not endeavour to make
shew 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 constrain d Motions, 35
Actions, Words, or Looks, which, though design d to shew
either their Respect or Civility to the Company, or their
Satisfaction and Easiness in it, are not yet natural nor genu
ine Marks of the one or the other, but rather of some
Delect or Mistake within. Imitation of others, without 40
discerning what is graceful in them, or what is peculiar to
42 Manners. Dancing. [ 66, 67
their Characters, often makes a great Part of this. But
Affectation of all Kinds, whencesoever it proceeds, is always
offensive; because we naturally hate whatever is counterfeit,
and condemn those who have nothing better to recommend
5 themselves by.
Plain and rough Nature, left to itself, is much better
than an artificial Ungracefulness, and such study d Ways of
being illfashion d. The Want of an Accomplishment, or
some Defect in our Behaviour, coming short of the utmost
10 Gracefulness, often escapes Observation and Censure. But
Affectation in any Part of our Carriage 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,
15 because, as I above observ d, tis an acquird Ugliness,
owing to mistaken Education, few being guilty of it but
those who pretend to Breeding, and would not be thought
ignorant of what is fashionable and becoming in Conversa
tion; and, if I mistake not, it has often its Rise from the
20 lazy Admonitions of those who give Rules, and propose
Examples, without joining Practice with their Instructions
and making their Pupils repeat the Action in their Sight,
that they may correct what is indecent or constrain d in it,
till it be perfected into an habitual and becoming Easiness.
25 67. Manners, as they call it, about which Children
Manners are so ^ ten perplex d, and have so many goodly
Exhortations made them by their wise Maids
and Governesses, I think, are rather to be learnt by Ex
ample than Rules ; and then Children, if kept out of ill
30 Company, will take a Pride to behave themselves prettily,
after the Fashion of others, perceiving themselves esteem d
and commended for it. But if by a little Negligence in
this Part, the Boy should not pull off his Hat, nor make
Legs very gracefully, a Dancing-master will cure that Defect,
35 and wipe off all that Plainness of Nature, which the a-la-
mode People call Clownishness. And since nothing appears
to me to give Children so much becoming Confidence and
Behaviour, and so to raise them to the Conversation of
. those above their Age, as Dancing, I think they
40 should be taught to dance as soon as they are
capable of learning it. For tho this consist only in out-
67] Children and Manners. 43
ward 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 Punctilio s or Niceties of Breeding.
Never trouble your self about those Faults in them, 5
which you know Age will cure : And therefore want of well-
fashion d 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 Parents least Care, whilst they are
young. If his tender Mind be fill d with a Veneration for 10
his Parents and Teachers, which consists in Love and
Esteem, and a Fear to offend them ; and with Respect and
good Will to all People; that Respect will of itself teach
those Ways of expressing it, which he observes most accept
able. Be sure to keep up in him the Principles of good 15
Nature and Kindness ; make them as habitual as you can,
by Credit and Commendation, and the good Things accom
panying 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 20
fashionable Manners, will come in their due Time ; if when
they are remov d out of their Maid s Care, they are put
into the Hands of a well-bred Man to be their Governor.
Whilst they are very young, any Carelessness is to be
borne with in Children, that carries not with it the Marks of 25
Pride or ill Nature ; but those, whenever they appear in any
Action, are to be corrected immediately by the Ways above-
mention d. What I have said concerning Manners, I would
not have so understood, as if I meant that those who have
the Judgment to do it, should not gently fashion the 30
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
complain of, is the wrong Course that is usually taken in this 35
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 fail d in good
Manners, and have thereupon Reproofs and Precepts heap d
upon them, concerning putting off their Hats, or making of 40
Legs, &c. Though in this, those concern d pretend to
44 Manners acquired by Imitation. [ 67, 68
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 themselves, for fear the By-standers should
5 impute to their Want of Care and Skill the Child s ill
Behaviour.
For, as for the Children themselves, they are never one
jot better d by such occasional Lectures. They at other
Times should be shewn what to do, and by reiterated
10 Actions be fashion d beforehand into the Practice of what
is fit and becoming, and not told and talk d to do upon the
Spot, of what they have never been accustom d 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
15 them to no purpose. They should be let alone, rather than
chid for a Fault which is none of theirs, 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
20 have Rebukes misplac d upon them, which neither do nor
can give them graceful Motions. If their Minds are well-
dispos d, and principled with inward Civility, a great Part
of the Roughness which sticks to the Outside for Want of
better Teaching, Time and Observation will rub off, as they
25 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
30 inculcated into them, that which will most influence their
Carriage 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 Camelions,
that still take a Tincture from Things near us ; nor is it to
35 be wonder d at in Children, who better understand what
they see than what they hear.
68. I mention d above one great Mischief that came
Comtan ky Servants to Children, when by their Flat
teries they take off the Edge and Force of the
40 Parents Rebukes, and so lessen their Authority : And here
is another great Inconvenience which Children receive from
68 7] Dangers from Servants. 45
the ill Examples which they meet with amongst the meaner
Servants.
They are wholly, if possible, to be kept from such
Conversation; for the Contagion of these ill Precedents,
both in Civility and Virtue, horribly infects Children, as 5
often as they come within reach of it. They frequently
learn from unbred or debauch d Servants such Language,
untowardly Tricks and Vices, as otherwise they possibly
would be ignorant of all their Lives.
69. Tis a hard Matter wholly to prevent this Mischief. 10
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 Children kept as much as may be *in
the Company of their Parents, and those to whose Care they 1 5
are committed. To this Purpose, their being in their Pre
sence should be made easy to them ; they should be
allow d the Liberties and Freedoms suitable to their Ages,
and not be held under unnecessary Restraints, when in their
Parents or Governor s Sight. If it be a Prison to them, tis 20
no Wonder they should not like it. They must not be
hinder d from being Children, or from playing, or doing as
Children, but from doing ill; all other Liberty is to be
allow d them. Next, to make them in love with the Com
pany of their Parents, they should receive all their good 25
Things there, and from their Hands. The Servants should
be hinder d from making court to them by giving them
strong Drink, Wine, Fruit, Play-Things, and other such
Matters, which may make them in love with their Conver
sation. 30
70. Having nam d Company, I am almost ready to
throw away my Pen, and trouble you no farther
i r-c i i-. i i Company.
on this Subject: For since that does more than
all Precepts, Rules and Instructions, methinks tis almost
wholly in vain to make a long Discourse of other Things, 35
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
* How much the Romans thought the Education of their Children
a Business that properly belong d to the Parents themselves, see in Sue
tonius, August. 64. Plutarch in vita Catonis Censoris, Diodorus
Siculus /. 2, cap. 3.
46 Home versus School. [ 70
always at home, he will be in danger to be my young Mas
ter; 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
5 be more innocent, but more ignorant too of the World;
wanting there Change of Company, and being us d con
stantly to the same Faces, he will, when he comes abroad,
be a sheepish or conceited Creature.
I confess, both Sides have their inconveniences. Being
10 abroad, tis true, will make him bolder, and better able to
bustle and shift among 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
15 Scholars, and can shew as great Effects of his Care of form
ing their Minds to Virtue, and their Carriage to good
Breeding, as of forming their Tongues to the learned Lan
guages, you must confess, that you have a strange Value
for Words, when preferring the Languages of the antient
20 Greeks and Romans to that which made em such brave
Men, you think it worth while to hazard your Son s Inno
cence and Virtue for a little Greek and Latin. For, as for
that Boldness and Spirit which Lads get amongst their Play-
Fellows at School, it has ordinarily such a Mixture of Rude-
25 ness and ill-turn d Confidence, that those misbecoming and
disingenuous Ways of shifting in the World must be unlearnt,
and all the Tincture wash d out again, to make W T ay for
better Principles, and such Manners as make a truly worthy
Man. He that considers how diametrically opposite the
30 Skill of living well, and managing, as a Man should do, his
Affairs in the World, is to that Mal-pertness, Tricking, or
Violence learnt amongst School-Boys, will think the Faults
of a privater Education infinitely to be preferr d to such
Improvements, and will take Care to preserve his Child s
35 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 Bashfulness which
their Daughters are brought up in, makes them less know-
40 ing, or less able Women. Conversation, when they come
into the World, soon gives them a becoming Assurance; and
70] Bashfulness better than Vice. 47
whatsoever, beyond that, there is of rough and boisterous,
may in Men be very well spar d 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 5
World ; and if lost in a young Man, is seldom recover d.
Sheepishness and Ignorance of the World, the Faults im
puted 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 10
the more dangerous Evil of the two; and therefore in the
first Place to be fenced against. If that sheepish Softness
which often enervates those who are bred like Fondlings at
Home, be carefully to be avoided, it is principally so for
Virtue s sake; for fear lest such a yielding Temper should 15
be too susceptible of vicious Impressions, and expose the
Novice too easily to be corrupted. A young Man before
he leaves the Shelter of his Father s House, and the Guard
of a Tutor, should be fortify d with Resolution, and made
acquainted with Men, to secure his Virtues, lest he should 20
be led into some ruinous Course, or fatal Precipice, before
he is sufficiently acquainted with the Dangers of Conversa
tion, and has Steadiness enough not to yield to every
Temptation. Were it not for this, a young Man s Bashful-
ness and Ignorance in the World, would not so much need 25
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 be
times, it is chiefly as a Fence to his Virtue when he goes 30
into the World under his own Conduct.
It is preposterous therefore to sacrifice his Innocency to
the attaining of Confidence and some little Skill of bustling
for himself among others, by his Conversation with illbred
and vicious Boys; when the chief Use of that Sturdiness, 35
and standing upon his own Legs, is only for the Preserva
tion 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 again, and strip
him of that he has got from his Companions, or give him up 40
to Ruin. Boys will unavoidably be taught Assurance by
48 The Schoolmaster powerless for conduct. [ 70
Conversation with Men, when they are brought into it; and
that is Time enough. Modesty and Submission, till then,
better fits them for Instruction; and therefore there needs
not any great Care to stock them with Confidence before-
5 hand. That which requires most Time, Pains, and Assi
duity, is, to work into them the Principles and Practice of
Virtue and good Breeding. This is the Seasoning they
should be prepar d with, so as not easily to be got out again.
This they had need to be well provided with; for Conver-
10 sation, when they come into the World, will add to their
Knowledge and Assurance, but be too apt to take from
their Virtue; which therefore they ought to be plentifully
stor d with, and have that Tincture sunk deep into them.
How they should be fitted for Conversation, and enter d
15 into the World, when they are ripe for it, we shall consider
in another Place. But how any one s being put into a
mix d Herd of unruly Boys, and there learning to wrangle at
Trap, or rook at Span-farthing, fits him for civil Conversa
tion or Business, I do not see. And what Qualities are
20 ordinarily to be got from such a Troop of Play-Fellows as
Schools usually assemble together from Parents of all
Kinds, that a Father should so much covet, 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,
2 5 more manly Thoughts, and a Sense of what is worthy and
becoming, with a greater Proficiency in Learning into the
Bargain, and ripen him up sooner into a Man, than any at
School can do. Not that I blame the Schoolmaster in this,
or think it to be laid to his Charge. The Difference is
30 great between two or three Pupils in the same House, and
three or four Score Boys lodg d up and down: For let the
Master s Industry and Skill be never so great, it is impossi
ble he should have fifty or an hundred Scholars under his
Eye, any longer than they are in the School together: Nor
35 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
40 have Time to study and correct every one s particular
Defects and wrong Inclinations) when the Lad was to be
70] Manners best learnt at home. 49
left to himself, or the prevailing Infection of his Fellows,
the greatest 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 an happy 5
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 10
Virtue and good Breeding, takes the only sure and warrant
able Way. And tis not the Waggeries or Cheats practis d
amongst School-Boys, tis not their Roughness one to an
other, nor the well-laid Plots of robbing an Orchard together,
that make an able Man; but the Principles of Justice, 15
Generosity, and Sobriety, join d with Observation and In
dustry, 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 than he could learn at
School, his Father has made a very ill Choice of a Tutor. 20
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 Family,
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 25
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 were better to be
without it.
Vice, if we may believe the general Complaint, ripens 3
so fast now-a-days, and runs up to Seed so early in young
People, that it is impossible to keep a Lad from the spread
ing 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 35
thriven amongst us these Years past, and by what Hands it
has been nurs d up into so uncontroul d a Dominion, I shall
leave to others to enquire. I wish that those who complain
of the great decay of Christian Piety and Virtue every where,
and of Learning and acquir d Improvements in the Gentry 40
of this Generation, would consider how to retrieve them in
50 Prevailing Dissoluteness and its cure. [ 70
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 up, be not
5 taken care of and preserv d, twill be ridiculous to expect,
that those who are to succeed next on the Stage, should
abound in that Virtue, Ability, and Learning, which has
hitherto made England considerable in the World. I was
going to add Courage too, though it has been look d on as
10 the natural Inheritance of Englishmen. What has been
talk d of some late Actions 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
15 long after it. And I think it impossible to find an Instance
of any Nation, however renown d for their Valour, who ever
kept their Credit in Arms, or made themselves redoubtable
amongst their Neighbours, after Corruption had once broke
through and dissolv d the Restraint of Discipline, and Vice
20 was grown to such an Head, that it durst shew itself bare-
fac d without being out of Countenance.
J Tis Virtue then, direct Virtue, which is the hard and
valuable Part to be aim d at in Education, and
Virtue. . , 1-1 r
not a torward Pertness, or any little Arts of
25 Shifting. All other Considerations and Accomplishments
should give way and be postpon d to this. This is the
solid and substantial Good which Tutors should not only
read Lectures, and talk of, but the Labour and Art of Edu
cation should furnish the Mind with, and fasten there, and
30 never cease till the young Man had a true Relish of it, and
plac d 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
Company.
he that is brought to submit to Virtue, will
35 not be refractory, or resty, in any Thing that becomes him;
and thereiore I cannot but prefer breeding of a young
Gentleman at home in his Father s Sight, under a good
Governour, as much the best and safest Way to this great
and main End of Education, when it can be had, and is
40 order d as it should be. Gentlemen s Houses are seldom
without Variety of Company: They should use their Sons
70, TL\ Example. Pueris reverentia. 51
to all the strange Faces that 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 live in the
Country should not take them with them, when they make
Visits of Civility to their Neighbours, I know not. This I 5
am sure, a Father that breeds his Son at home, has the
Opportunity 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 10
what shall be resolv d in the Case, must in great Measure be
left to the Parents, to be determin d by their Circumstances
and Conveniences; only I think it the worst sort of good
Husbandry for a Father not to strain himself a little for his
Son s Breeding; which, let his Condition be what it will, is 15
the best Portion he can leave him. But if, after all, it shall
be thought by some, that the Breeding at Home has 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 Inconveniences on the one 20
Side and the other.
71. Having under Consideration how great the Influ
ence of Company is, and how prone we are all, especi
ally Children, to Imitation; I must here take the Liberty to
mind Parents of this one Thing, viz. That he that will 25
have his Son have a Respect for him and his Orders, must
himself have a great Reverence for his Son. Maxima
debetur Pueris reverentia. You must do nothing
,-,. , i IT i Example.
before him, which you would not have him imi
tate. If any Thing escape you, which you would have pass 30
for a Fault in him, he will be sure to shelter himself under
your Example, and shelter himself 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 practise yourself, he
will not think that Severity to proceed from Kindness in 35
you, careful to amend a Fault in him; but will be apt to
interpret it the Peevishness and arbitrary Imperiousness of
a Father, who, without any Ground for it, would deny his
Son the Liberty and Pleasures he takes himself. Or if you
assume to yourself the Liberty you have taken, as a Privi- 40
lege belonging to riper Years, to which a Child must not
42
52 Lessons should not be Tasks. [ 71 73
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
5 their Cut or Ease, but because the having them is a Mark
or 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.
10 72. But to return to the Business of Rewards and
. . Punishments. All the Actions of Childishness,
and unfashionable Carriage, and whatever Time
and Age will of itself be sure to reform, being (as I have
said) exempt from the Discipline of the Rod, there will not
15 be so much need of beating Children as is generally made
use of. To which if we add learning to read, write, dance,
foreign Language, ore. as under the same Privilege, there
will be but very rarely an Occasion for Blows or Force in an
ingenuous Education. The right Way to teach them those
20 Things, is, to give them a Liking and Inclination to what
you propose to them to be learn d, 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-mention d be carefully
25 apply d, and with them these few Rules observ d in the
Method of instructing them.
73. i. None of the Things they are to learn, should
ever be made a Burthen to them, or impos d on
them as a Task. Whatever is so propos d, pre-
30 sently becomes irksome; the Mind takes an Aversion to it,
though before it were a Thing of Delight or Indifferency.
Let a Child but be order d to whip his Top at a certain Time
every Day, whether he has or has not a Mind to it; let this
be but requir d of him as a Duty, wherein he must spend so
35 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 chearfully of themselves,
do they not presently grow sick 01, and can no more endure,
as soon as they find it is expected of them as a Duty?
40 Children have as much a Mind to shew that they are free,
that their own good Actions come from themselves, that
73 74] Seasons of Aptitude and Inclination. 53
they are absolute and independent, as any of the proudest
of you grown Men, think of them as you please.
74. 2. As a Consequence of this, they should seldom
be put about doing even those Things you have
T ,. . . . . D / . Disposition.
got an Inclination in them to, but when they 5
have a Mind and Disposition to it. He that loves Reading,
Writing, Musick, &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 10
of Temper should be carefully observ d in them, and the
favourable Seasons of Aptitude and Inclination be heedfully
laid hold of: And if they are not often enough forward of
themselves, a good Disposition should be talk d into them,
before they be set upon any thing. This I think no hard 15
Matter for a discreet Tutor to do, who has study d his
Pupil s Temper, and will be at a little Pains to fill his Head
with suitable Ideas, such as may make him in Love with the
present Business. By this Means a great deal of Time and
Tiring would be sav d: For a Child will learn three times 20
as much when he is in Tune, as he will with double the
Time and Pains when he goes awkwardly or is dragg d un
willingly to it. If this were minded as it should, Children
might be permitted to weary themselves with Play, and yet
have Time enough to learn what is suited to the Capacity of 25
each Age. But no such Thing is consider d in the ordinary
Way of Education, nor can it well be. That rough Disci
pline 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 30
indeed it would be ridiculous, when Compulsion and Blows
have rais d an Aversion in the Child to his Task, to expect
he should freely of his own accord leave his Play, and with
Pleasure court the Occasions of Learning; whereas, were
Matters order d right, learning anything they should be 35
taught might be made as much a Recreation to their Play,
as their Play is to their Learning. 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 40
54 Mind must gain self-mastery. [ 74, 75
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 forc d upon them, they are call d,
compell d, and driven to it. This is that, that at first En-
5 trance balks and cools them; they want their Liberty. Get
them but to ask their Tutor to teach them, as they do often
their Play-Fellows, instead of his calling upon them to learn,
and they being satisfy d that they act as freely in this as
they do in other Things, they will go on with as much
10 Pleasure in it, and it will not differ from their other Sports
and Play. By these Ways, carefully pursu d, a Child may
be brought to desire to be taught any thing you have a
Mind he should learn. The hardest Part, I confess, is with
the first or eldest; but when once he is set right, it is easy
15 by him to lead the rest whither one will.
75. Though it be past doubt, that the fittest Time for
Children to learn any Thing, is, when their Minds are in
Time, and well disposed to it ; when neither Flagging of
Spirit, nor Intentness of Thought upon something else,
20 makes them awkward and averse ; yet two Things are to be
taken care of: i. That these Seasons either not being
warily observ d, and laid hold on as often as they return,
or else, not returning as often as they should, the Improve
ment of the Child be not thereby neglected, and so he be
25 let grow into an habitual Idleness, and confirm d in this
Indisposition : 2. That though other Things are ill learn d,
when the Mind is either indispos d, or otherwise taken up ;
yet it is of great Moment, and worth our Endeavours, to
teach the Mind to get the Mastery over itself, and to be
30 able, upon Choice, to take itself off from the hot Pursuit of
one Thing, and set itself upon another with 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
35 trying them sometimes, when they are by Laziness unbent,
or by Avocation bent another Way, and endeavouring to
make them buckle to the Thing propos d. If by this
Means the Mind can get an habitual Dominion over itself,
lay by Ideas or Business as Occasion requires, and betake
40 itself to new and less acceptable Employments without
75> 76] How learning is made displeasing. 55
Reluctancy or Discomposure, it will be an Advantage of
more Consequence than Latin or Logick or most of those
Things Children are usually requir d to learn.
76. Children being more active and busy in that Age,
than in any other Part of their Life, and being . 5
j-rr mi i Compulsion.
indifferent to any Thing they can do, so they
may be but doing, Dancing and Scotch-hoppers would be the
same Thing to them, were the Encouragements and Dis
couragements equal. But to Things we would have them
learn, the great and only Discouragement I can observe, is, 10
that they are call d to it, tis made their Business, they are
teazd and chid about it, and do it with Trembling and
Apprehension ; or, when they come willingly to it, are kept
too long at it, till they are quite tir d : All which intrenches
too much on that natural Freedom they extremely affect. 15
And it is that Liberty 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 Appli
cation ; especially if they see the Examples of others
whom they esteem and think above themselves. And if 20
the Things which they observe others to do, be order d so,
that they insinuate themselves into them as the Privilege
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 25
go on with Vigour and Pleasure ; Pleasure in what they
have begun by their own Desire, in which Way the Enjoy
ment 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 30
think there will need no other Spur to excite their Applica
tion and Assiduity, as much as is necessary. I confess,
there needs Patience and Skill, Gentleness and Attention,
and a prudent Conduct to attain this at first But why
have you a Tutor, if there needed no Pains? But when 35
this is once establish d. all the rest will follow, more easily
than in any more severe and imperious Discipline. And
I think it no hard Matter to gain this Point ; I am sure it
will not be, where Children have no ill Examples set before
them. The great Danger therefore, I apprehend, is only 40
trom Servants, and other ill-order d Children, or such other
56 Against passionate Chiding. [ 76 78
vicious or foolish 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 Com-
5 mendation.
77. As Children should very seldom be corrected by
Ch - di ^ Blows, so I think frequent, and especially pas
sionate Chiding of almost as ill Consequence.
It lessens the Authority of the Parents, and the Respect
10 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 Inclina-
15 tion will easily learn to slight such Scare-crows which make
a Noise, but are not animated by Reason. Children being
to be restrain d 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
20 Words are sometimes to be us d, they ought to be grave,
kind, and sober, representing the 111 or Unbecomingness of
the Faults, rather than a hasty Rating of the Child for it ;
which makes him not sufficiently distinguish, whether your
Dislike be not more directed to him than his Fault. Pas-
25 sionate Chiding usually carries rough and ill Language with
it, which has this farther ill Effect, that it teaches and jus
tifies it in Children : And the Names that their Parents or
Praeceptors give them, they will not be asham d or backward
to bestow on others, having so good Authority for the Use
30 of them.
78. I forsee here it will be objected to me, What
oistinac tnen wu ^ vou nave Children never beaten nor
chid for any Fault? This will be to let loose
the Reins to all Kind of Disorder. Not so much, as is
35 imagin d, if a right Course has been taken in the first
Seasoning of their Minds, and implanting that Awe of their
Parents above-mentioned. For Beating, by constant Obser
vation, is found to do little good, where the Smart of it is
all the Punishment is fear d or felt in it ; for the Influence
40 of that quickly wears out, with the Memory of it. But yet
there is one, and but one Fault, for which, I think Children
78] Obstinacy needs the Rod. 57
should be beaten, and that is, Obstinacy or Rebellion. And
in this too, I would have it order d so, if it can be, that the
Shame of the Whipping, and not the Pain, should be the L
greatest Part of the Punishment. Shame of doing amiss^-
and deserving Chastisement, is the only true Restraint 5
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 Terror. I have known the Children
of a Person of Quality kept in Awe by the Fear of having
their Shoes pull d off, as much as others by Apprehensions 10
of a Rod hanging over them. Some such Punishment I
think better than Beating ; for tis Shame of the Fault, and
the Disgrace that attends it, that they should stand in Fear
of, rather than Pain, if you would have them have a Temper
truly ingenuous. But Stubbornness, and an obstinate Disobe- 15
dience, must be master d 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 your
self obey d ; no Quarter in this Case, no Resistance : For
when once it comes to be a Trial of Skill, a Contest for 20
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 Mother of my Acquaintance, was, on 25
such an Occasion, forc d to whip her little 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 stopp d at the 30
seventh Whipping, she had spoil d the Child for ever, and,
by her unpre vailing Blows, only confirm d her Refractoriness,
very hardly afterwards to be cur d : But wisely persisting till
she had bent her Mind, and suppled her Will, the only
End of Correction and Chastisement, she establish d her 35
Authority thoroughly in the very first Occasions, and had
ever after a very 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, 40
continu d and increas d, without leaving off till it has
58 The Rod for Stubbornness only. [ 78
throughly prevail d, should first bend the Mind, and settle
the Parent s Authority; and then Gravity, mix d with Kind
ness, should for ever after keep it.
This, if well reflected on, would make People more wary
5 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 apply d at random on all Occasions. 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
10 hardens the Offender; and whatever Pain he has suffer d for
it, it does but endear him to 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-order d Correction many have been taught to be
15 obstinate 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, which has rais d
your Choler, what Operation can this have upon his Mind,
which is the Part to be amended? If there were no sturdy
20 Humour or Wilfulness mix d with his Fault, there was no
thing in it that requir d 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
25 Will, if it were a design d, resolv d Disobedience, the Punish
ment is not to be measur d by the Greatness or Smallness
of the Matter wherein it appear d, but by the Opposition it
carries, and stands in, to that Respect and Submission is
due to the Father s Orders; which must always be rigorously
30 exacted, and the Blows by 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 a-
35 do if it be not done, and done to our Fancy. This requires
Care, Attention, Observation, and a nice Study of Children s
Tempers, and weighing their Faults well, before 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 Go-
40 vernment? And by frequent Use of it on all Occasions,
misapply and render inefficacious this last and useful Re-
73 8o] Faults not of the Will. 59
medy, where there is need of it? For what else can be
expected, when it is promiscuously us d upon every little
Slip? When a Mistake in Concordance, or a wrong Position
in Verse, shall have the Severity of the Lash, in a well-tem-
per d and industrious Lad, as surely as a wilful Crime in an 5
obstinate and perverse Offender; how can such a Way of
Correction be expected to do Good on the Mind, and set
that right? Which is the only Thing to be look d after; and
when set Right, brings all the rest that you can desire along
with it. 10
79. 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 dispos d, and refuses not
the Government and Authority of the Father or Tutor, are
but Mistakes, and may often be overlook d; or when they 15
are taken Notice of, need no other but the gentle Remedies
of Advice, Direction, and Reproof, till the repeated and
wilful Neglect of those, shews the Fault to be in the Mind,
and that a manifest Perverseness of the Will lies at the Root
of their Disobedience. But whenever Obstinacy, which is 20
an open Defiance, appears, that cannot be wink d at or
neglected, but must, in the first Instance, be subdu d and
master d; only Care must be had, that we mistake not, and
we must be sure it is Obstinacy and nothing else.
80. But since the Occasions of Punishment, especi- 25
ally 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 sufficient in most
Cases. Nor indeed should the same Carriage, Seriousness,
or Application be expected from young Children as from 30
those of riper Growth. They must be permitted, as I said,
the foolish and childish Actions suitable to their Years,
without taking Notice of them. Inadvertency, Carelessness,
and Gayety, is the Character of that Age. I think the Se
verity I spoke of is not to extend itself to such unseasonable 35
Restraints. Nor is that hastily to be interpreted Obstinacy
or Wilfulness, which is the natural Product of their Age or
Temper. In such Miscarriages they are to be assisted, and
help d towards an Amendment, as weak People under a
natural Infirmity; which, though they are warn d of, yet 40
every Relapse must not be counted a perfect Neglect, and
60 Appeal to Reason. [ 80, 81
they presently treated as obstinate. Faults of Frailty, as
they should never be neglected, or let pass without minding,
so, unless the Will mix with them, they should never be
exaggerated, or very sharply reprov d; but with a gentle
5 Hand set right, as Time and Age permit. By this Means,
Children will come to see what tis in any Miscarriage that
is chiefly offensive, and so learn to avoid it. This will en
courage them to keep their Wills right; which is the great
Business, when they find that it preserves them from any
10 great Displeasure, and that in all their other Failings they
meet with the kind Concern and Help, rather than the
Anger and passionate Reproaches of their Tutor and Pa
rents. Keep them from Vice and vicious Dispositions, and
such a Kind of Behaviour in general will come with every
15 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
20 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
25 vicious Habits. I think there are better Ways of prevailing
with them: And a gentle Persuasion in Reasoning, (when
the first Point of Submission to your Will is got) will most
Times do much better.
8 1. It will perhaps be wonder d, that I mention Reason-
T.Q ins: with Children; and yet I cannot but think
* Keasontrtsr. , . TTT .. , ,. . . ,, ,
that the true Way of dealing with them. They
understand it as early as they do Language; and, it I mis-
observe not, they love to be treated as rational Creatures,
sooner than is imagin d. Tis a Pride should be cherish d
35 in them, and, as much as can be, made the greatest Instru
ment to turn them by.
But when I talk of Reasoning, I do not intend any other
but such as is suited to the Child s Capacity and Apprehen
sion. No body can think a Boy of three or seven Years
40 old should be argu d with as a grown Man. Long Dis
courses, and Philosophical Reasonings, at best, amaze and
8i, 82] Reason. Examples. 61
confound, but do not instruct Children. When I say,
therefore, v hat they must be treated as rational Creatures, I
mean, that you should make them sensible, by the Mildness
of your Carriage, and the Composure even in your Correc
tion of them, that what you do is reasonable in you, and 5
useful and necessary for them; and that it is not out of
Caprichio, 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 10
convinced of; but it must be by such Reasons as their Age
and Understanding are capable of, and those propos d 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 15
let into the Minds of grown Men, not us d to abstract their
Thoughts from common receiv d Opinions. Much less are
Children capable of Reasonings from remote Principles.
They cannot conceive the Force of long Deductions. The
Reasons that move them must be obvious, and level to their 20
Thoughts, and such as may (if I may so say) be felt and
touch d. But yet, if their Age, Temper, and Inclination be
consider^, there 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, 25
to deter them from any Fault fit to be taken Notice of in
them, (viz.) That it will be a Discredit and Disgrace to them,
and displease you.
82. But of all the Ways whereby Children are to be
instructed, and their Manners formed, the plain- -?o
, . . . r _ Examples.
est, easiest, and most efficacious, is, to set before
their Eyes the Examples 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 Re
flections on their Beauty and Unbecomingness, are of more 35
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 shew them, when you direct their
Observation, and bid them view this or that good or bad 40
Quality in their Practice. And the Beauty or Uncomeliness
62 Rules for the Rod. [ 8284
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.
5 This is a Method to be us d, not only whilst they are
young, but to be continu d even as long as they shall be
under another s Tuition or Conduct ; nay, I know not
whether it be not the best Way to be us d by a Father, as
long as he shall think fit, on any Occasion, to reform any
10 Thing he wishes mended in his Son; nothing sinking so
gently, and so deep, into Men s Minds, as Example. And
what 111 they either overlook or indulge in themselves, they
cannot but dislike and be asham d of, when it is set before
them in another.
15 83. It may be doubted, concerning Whipping, when,
as the last Remedy, it comes to be necessary,
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
20 should beat their Children. 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 lose of its due
Weight : For even Children discern when we do Things in
O O
Passion. But, as I said before, that has most Weight with
25 them, that appears sedately to come from their Parents
Reason ; and they are not without this Distinction. 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
30 immediately from another s Hand, though by the Parent s
Order, who should see it done; whereby the Parent s Autho
rity will be preserv d, and the Child s Aversion, for the Pain
it suffers, rather to be turn d on the Person that immediately
inflicts. For I would have a Fatlier seldom strike his Child,
35 but upon very urgent Necessity, and as the last Remedy;
and then perhaps it will be fit to do it so that the Child
should not quickly forget it.
84. But, as I said before, Beating is the worst, and
therefore the last Means to be us d in the Correction of
40 Children, and that only in Cases of Extremity, after all
gentle Ways have been try d, and prov d unsuccessful;
84] Punishments come of neglect. 63
which, if well observ d, there will be very seldom any Need
of Blows. For, it not being to be imagin d that a Child will
often, if ever, dispute his Father s present Command in any
particular Instance, and the Father not interposing his abso
lute Authority, in peremptory Rules, concerning either child- 5
ish or indifferent Actions, wherein his Son is to have his
Liberty, or concerning his Learning or Improvement, wherein
there is no Compulsion to be us d : There remains only the
Prohibition of some vicious Actions, wherein a Child is
capable of Obstinacy, and consequently can deserve Beating ; 10
and so there will be but very few Occasions of that Dis
cipline to be us d by any one who considers well and
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-natur d Tricks; the repeated Commission whereof, 15
after his Father s direct Command against it, shall bring
him into the Condemnation of Obstinacy, and the Chastise
ment of the Rod? If any vicious Inclination in him be,
in the first Appearance and Instances of it, treated as it
should be, first with your Wonder, and then, if returning 20
again, a second Time discountenanc d with the severe Brow
of a Father, Tutor, and all about him, and a Treatment
suitable to the State of Discredit before-mention d ; and this
continu d till he be made sensible and asham d of his Fault,
I imagine there will be no need of any other Correction, nor 25
ever any Occasion to come to Blows. The Necessity of
such Chastisement is usually the Consequence only of former
Indulgences or Neglects: If vicious Inclinations were watch d
from the Beginning, and the first Irregularities which they
cause, corrected by those gentler Ways, we should seldom 30
have to do with more than one Disorder at once ; which
would be easily set right without any Stir or Noise, and not
require so harsh a Discipline as Beating. Thus one by one,
as they appear d, they might all be weeded out, without any
Signs or Memory that ever they had been there. But we 35
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 asham d and uneasy, we are
fain to come to the Plough and the Harrow ; the Spade and
the Pick-Ax must go deep to come at the Roots ; and all 40
the Force, Skill, and Diligence we can use, is scarce enough
64 Shew surprise at sin. Must Rod teach? [84 86
to cleanse the vitiated Seed-Plat, overgrown with Weeds,
and restore us the Hopes of Fruits, to reward our Pains in
its Season.
85. This Course, if observ d, will spare both Father
5 and Child the Trouble of repeated Injunctions, and multi-
ply d Rules of Doing and Forbearing. For I am of Opinion,
that of those Actions which tend to vicious Habits, (which
are those alone that a Father should interpose his Authority
and Commands in) none should be forbidden Children till
i o they are found guilty of them. For such untimely Pro
hibitions, if they do nothing worse, do at least so much
towards teaching and allowing em, 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
15 Remedy to stop them, is, as I have said, to shew Wonder
and Amazement at any such Action as hath a vicious Ten
dency, when it is first taken Notice of in a Child. For Ex
ample, when he is first found in a Lie, or any ill-natur d
Trick, the first Remedy should be, to talk to him of it as
20 a strange monstrous Matter, that it could not be imagin d he
would have done, and so shame him out of it.
86. It will be ( tis like) objected, that whatsoever I
fancy of the Tractableness of Children, and the Prevalency
of those softer Ways of Shame and Commendation; yet
25 there are many who will never apply themselves to their
Books, and to what they ought to learn, unless they are
scourg d to it. This, I fear, is nothing but the Language of
ordinary Schools and Fashion, which have never suffer d the
other to be try d as it should be, in Places where it could be
30 taken Notice of. Why, else, does 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,
Arithmetick, Drawing, &^c. they apply themselves well
enough to without Beating: Which would make one sus-
35 pect, that there is something strange, unnatural, and dis
agreeable to that Age, in the Things required in Gram
mar-Schools, or in the Methods us d there, that Children
cannot be brought to, without the Severity of the Lash,
and hardly with that too; or else, that it is a Mistake,
40 that those Tongues could not be taught them without
Beating.
87] The Incorrigible. 65
87. But let us suppose some so negligent or idle, that
they will not be brought to learn by the gentle Ways pro-
pos d, (for we must grant, 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 us d to all. Nor can 5
any one be concluded unmanageable by the milder Methods
of Government, till they have been throughly try d upon
him ; and if they will not prevail with him to use his En
deavours, and do what is in his Power to do, we make no
Excuses for the Obstinate. Blows are the proper Remedies 10
for those; but Blows laid on in a Way different from the
ordinary. He that wilfully neglects his Book, and stubbornly
refuses any thing he can do, requir d of him by his Father,
expressing himself in a positive serious Command, should
not be corrected with two or three angry Lashes, for not 15
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 evidently shews itself, and
makes Blows necessary, I think the Chastisement should be a
little more sedate, and a little more severe, and the Whipping 20
(mingled with Admonition between) so continu d, till the Im
pressions 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 melting in
true Sorrow under it. If such a Correction as this, try d 25
some few Times at fit Distances, and carry d to the utmost
Severity, with the visible Displeasure of the Father all the
while, will not work the Effect, turn the Mind, and produce
a future Compliance, what can be hop d from Blows, and
to what Purpose should they be any more us d? Beating, 30
when you can expect no Good from it, will look more like
the Fury of an enrag d Enemy, than the Good-Will of a
compassionate Friend ; and such Chastisement carries with
it only Provocation, without any Prospect of Amendment.
If it be any Father s Misfortune to have a Son thus perverse 35
and untractable, 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 Instances, they are not
to be the Rule for the Education of those who are better 40
natur d, and may be manag d with better Usage.
66 Tutors must have and deserve Respect. [ 88 90
88. If a Tutor can be got, that, thinking himself in
the Father s Place, charg d with his Care, and
tor relishing these Things, will at the Beginning
apply himself to put them in Practice, he will afterwards
5 find his Work very 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 Dis-
10 cretion and Temper. But yet. to keep up his Authority
with his Pupil, besides 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 Son should have any Regard for one
15 whom he sees you, or his Mother, or others slight. If you
think him worthy of Contempt, you have chosen amiss;
and if you shew any Contempt of him, he will hardly escape
it from your Son : And whenever that happens, whatever
Worth he may have in himself, and Abilities for this Em-
20 ployment, they are all lost to your Child, and can afterwards
never be made useful to him.
89. As the Father s 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
25 Practice must by no means cross his Precepts, unless he
intend to set him wrong. It will be to no Purpose for the
Tutor to talk of the Restraint of the Passions whilst any of
his own are let loose ; and he will in vain endeavour to
reform any Vice or Indecency in his Pupil, which he allows
30 in himself. Ill Patterns are sure to be follow d more than
good Rules ; and therefore he must always carefully pre
serve 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,
35 for that will but give him an Itch after it, but by other Ways
I have mention d.
90. In all the whole Business of Education, there is
Go er or notnm g n ^e to be less hearken d to, or harder
to be well observ d, than what I am now going
40 to say ; and that is, that Children should, from their first
beginning to talk, have some discreet, sober^ nay, wise Per-
go, 91] Importance of the Tutor. 67
son about them, whose Care it should be to fashion them
aright, and keep them from all 111, especially the Infection
of bad Company. I think this Province requires great
Sobriety, Temperance, Tenderness, Diligence, and Discretion ;
Qualities hardly to be found united in Persons that are to 5
be had for ordinary 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. He that at any rate pro- 10
cures his Child a good Mind, well-principled, temper d to
Virtue and Usefulness, and adorn d with Civility and good
Breeding, makes a better Purchase for him than if he
laid out the Money for an Addition of more Earth to his
former Acres. Spare it in Toys and Play-Games, in Silk 15
and Ribbons, Laces, and other useless Expences, as much
as you please ; but be not sparing in so necessary a Part as
this. Tis not good Husbandry to make his Fortune rich,
and his Mind poor. I have often with great Admiration
seen People lavish it profusely in tricking up their Children 20
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 Nakedness,
viz. their natural wrong Inclinations and Ignorance. This 25
I can look on as no other than a sacrificing to their own
Vanity, it shewing more their Pride than true Care of the
Good of their Children ; whatsoever you employ to the
Advantage of your Son s Mind, will shew your true Kind
ness, tho it be to the lessening of his Estate. A wise and 30
good Man can hardly want either the Opinion or Reality of
being great and happy; but he that is foolish or vicious,
can be neither great nor happy, what Estate soever you
leave him : And I ask you, Whether there be not Men in
the World, whom you had rather have your Son be with 35
five hundred Pounds per Annum, than some other you
know with five thousand Pounds.
91. The Consideration of Charge ought not therefore
to deter those who are able. The great Difficulty will be
where to find a proper Person : For those of small Age, 40
Parts, and Vertue, are unfit for this Employment, and those
5-2
68 Choice of Tutor. [ 91 93
that have greater, will hardly be got to undertake such a
Charge. You must therefore look out early, and enquire
every where ; for the World has People of all Sorts. And
I remember, Montaigne says in one of his Essays, That the
5 learned Castalio was fain to make Trenchers at Basle, to
keep himself from starving, when his Father would have
given any Money for such a Tutor for his Son, and Castalio
have willingly embrac d such an Employment upon very
reasonable Terms ; but this was for want of Intelligence.
10 92. 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 Way : And I dare assure you, that if you can
get a good one, you will never repent the Charge; but will
15 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 Charity, no, nor upon great Commendations.
Nay, if you will do as you ought, the Reputation of a sober
Man, with a good Stock of Learning, (which is all usually
20 requir d 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 : This will cause great Inconvenience to you,
and greater to your Son. When I consider the Scruples
25 and Cautions I here lay in your Way, methinks it looks as
if I advis d you to something which I would have offer d
at, but in Effect not done. But he that shall consider how
much the Business of a Tutor, rightly employ d, lies out of
the Road, and how remote it is from the Thoughts of many,
30 even of those who propose 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
35 End.
93. The Character of a sober Man and a Scholar, is,
as I have above observ d, what every one expects in a
Tutor. This generally is thought enough, and is all that
Parents commonly look for : But when such an one has
40 empty d out into his Pupil all the Latin and Logick he has
brought from the University, will that Furniture make him
93] Good Breeding essential. 69
a fine Gentleman ? Or can it be expected, that he should
be better bred, better skill d in the World, better principled
in the Grounds and Foundations of true Virtue and Gene
rosity, than his young Tutor is ?
To form a young Gentleman as he should be, tis fit his 5
Governor should himself be well-bred, understanding the
Ways of Carriage and Measures of Civility in all the
Variety of Persons, Times, and Places ; and keep his Pupil,
as much as his Age requires, constantly to the Observation
of them. This is an Art not to be learnt nor taught by 10
Books. Nothing can give it but good Company and
Observation join d together. The Taylor may make his
Clothes modish, and the Dancing-master give Fashion to
his Motions ; yet neither of these, tho they set off well,
make a well-bred Gentleman : No, tho he have Learning 15
to boot, which, if not well manag d, makes him more imper
tinent 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 20
Breeding his 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 Pedantry;
Wit, Buffoonry; Plainness, Rusticity; good Nature, Fawn- 25
ing. And there cannot be a good Quality in him, which
Want of Breeding will not warp and disfigure to his Disad
vantage. Nay, Virtue and Parts, though they are allow d
their due Commendation, yet are not enough to procure a
Man a good Reception, and make him welcome wherever 30
he comes. No body contents himself with rough Dia
monds, and wears them so, who would appear with Advan
tage. When they are polish d and set, then they give a
Lustre. Good Qualities are the substantial Riches of the
Mind, but tis good Breeding sets them off: And he that 35
will be acceptable, must give Beauty, as well as Strength,
to his Actions. Solidity, or even Usefulness, is not enough:
A graceful Way and Fashion in every thing, is that which
gives the Ornament and Liking. And in most Cases, the
Manner of doing is of more Consequence than the Thing 40
done ; and upon that depends the Satisfaction or Disgust
76 The Tutor must see to Manners. [ 93
wherewith it is receiv d. This therefore, which lies not in
the putting off the Hat, nor making of Compliments, but in
a due and free Composure of Language, Looks, Motion,
Posture, Place, &c. suited to Persons and Occasions, and
5 can be learn d only by Habit and Use, though it be above
the Capacity of Children, and little ones should not be
perplex d about it, yet it ought to be begun and in a good
measure learn d by a young Gentleman whilst he is under a
Tutor, before he comes into the World upon his own Legs :
TO 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, falling, as skilful Musicians Fingers do, into
harmonious Order without Care and without Thought.
15 If in Conversation a Man s Mind be taken up with a solicit
ous Watchfulness about any Part of his Behaviour; instead
of being mended by it, it will be constrain d, uneasy, and
ungraceful.
Besides, this Part is most necessary to be form d by the
20 Hands and Care of a Governor, because, though the Errors
committed in Breeding are the first that are taken 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
25 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
30 of ill Breeding. Errors in other Things may often with
Civility be shewn another ; and tis 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 Want of
35 Breeding. Such Information can come only from those
who have Authority over them ; and from them too it
comes very hardly and harshly to a grown Man ; and how
ever soften d, goes but ill down with any one who has liv d
ever so little in the World. Wherefore it is necessary that
40 this Part should be the Governor s principal Care, that an
habitual Gracefulness, and Politeness in all his Carriage,
93> 94] Teaching knowledge of the World. 71
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
receive it, nor has any body left to give it him. The Tutor
therefore ought in the first Place to be well-bred : And a 5
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 carry him farther in the World,
than all the hard Words or real Knowledge he has got from 10
the Liberal Arts, or his Tutor s learned Encydopaidia : Not
that those should be neglected, but by no means preferr d,
or suffer d to thrust out the other.
94. Besides being well-bred, the Tutor should know
the World well; the Ways, the Humours, the Follies, the 15
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 shew 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, 20
and make his Pupil discern what lies at the Bottom under
such Appearances, that he may not, as unexperienc d young
Men are apt to do if they are unwarn d, take one Thing
for another, judge by the Outside, and give himself up to
Shew, and the Insinuation of a fair Carriage, or an obliging 25
Application. A Governor should teach his Scholar to
guess at and beware of the Designs of Men he hath to do
with, neither with too much Suspicion, nor too much Con
fidence ; but as the young Man is by Nature most inclin d
to either Side, rectify him, and bend him the other Way. 30
He should accustom him to make, as much as is possible,
a true Judgment of Men by those Marks which serve best
to shew what they are, and give a Prospect into their Inside,
which often shews itself in little Things, especially when
they are not in Parade, and upon their Guard. He should 35
acquaint him with the true State or 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 hazard
ous Step in all the whole Course of Life. This therefore 40
should be carefully watch d, and a young Man with great
72 Dangers from ignorance of the World. [94
Diligence 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 under his own, not without manifest Dangers
of immediate spoiling; there being nothing more frequent
5 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, especially in this Part ; for having been bred
10 up in a great Ignorance of what the World truly is, and
finding it a quite other Thing, when they come into it, than
what they were taught it should be, and so imagin d it was,
are easily persuaded, by other kind of Tutors, which they
are sure to meet with, that the Discipline they were kept
15 under, and the Lectures read to them, were but the For
malities 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 shew the young Novice the World full of fashionable
20 and glittering Examples of this every where, and he is
presently dazzled with them. My young Master failing not
to be willing to shew himself a Man, as much as any of the
Sparks of his Years, lets himself loose to all the Irregu
larities he finds in the most debauch d ; and thus courts
25 Credit and Manliness in the casting off the Modesty and
Sobriety 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 preach d
to i/him by his Tutor.
30 \y The shewing 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 P ashion, and warned of the Applications
and Designs of those who will make it their Business to
35 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 Examples of those who are ruining or
ruin d this Way. The Age is not like to want Instances of
this kind, which should be made Land-marks to him, that
40 by the Disgraces, Diseases, Beggary, and Shame of hopeful
young Men thus brought to Ruin, he may be precaution d,
94] Forewarned, forearmed. 73
and be made see, how those join in the Contempt and Neg
lect of them that are undone, who, by Pretences of Friend
ship and Respect, lead them to it, and help to prey upon
them whilst they were undoing ; that he may see, before he
buys it by a too dear Experience, that those who persuade 5
him not to follow the sober Advices he has receiv d from
his Governors, and the Counsel of his own Reason, which
they call being govern d 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, 10
and for his own Pleasure, when in Truth he is 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. 15
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 con
fess, 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, Inclination, and weak Side of his 20
Pupil. This farther is to be remember d, 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 hoodwink d, 25
the less he will see when he comes abroad into open Day
light, and be the more expos d to be a Prey to himself and
others. And an old Boy, at his first Appearance, with all
the Gravity of his Ivy-Bush about him, is sure to draw on
him the Eyes and Chirping 01 the whole Town Volery ; 30
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 Know
ledge of it, into which a young Gentleman should be enter d
by Degrees, as he can bear it ; and the earlier the better, so 35
he be in safe and skilful Hands to guide him. The Scene
should be gently open d, and his Entrance made Step by
Step, and the Dangers pointed out that attend him from
the several Degrees, Tempers, Designs, and Clubs of Men.
He should be prepar d to be shock d by some, and caress d 40
by others ; warn d who are like to oppose, who to mislead,
74 Breeding before Booklearning. [ 94
who to undermine him, and who to serve him. He should
be instructed how to know and distinguish them ; where he
should let them see, and when dissemble the Knowledge of
them and their Aims and Workings. And if he be too for-
5 ward to venture upon his own Strength and Skill, the Per
plexity 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 Wisdom, is
10 not the Product of some superficial Thoughts, or much
Reading ; but the Effect of Experience and Observation in
a Man who has liv d in the World with his Eyes open, and
convers d with Men of all Sorts. And therefore I think it of
most Value to be instill d into a young Man upon all Occa-
15 sions which offer themselves, that when he comes to launch
into the Deep himself, he may not be like one at Sea with
out a Line, Compass or Sea-Chart; but may have some
Notice before-hand of the Rocks and Shoals, the Currents
and Quick-sands, and know a little how to steer, that he
20 sink not before he get Experience. He that thinks not this
of more Moment to his Son, and for which he more needs a
Governor, than the Languages and learned Sciences, forgets
of how much more Use it is to judge right of Men, and
manage his Affairs wisely with them, than to speak Greek
25 and Latin, or argue in Mood and Figure; or to have his
Head fill d with the abstruse Speculations of natural Philo
sophy and Metaphysicks; nay, than to be well vers d in
Greek and Roman Writers, though that be much better for a
Gentleman than to be a good Peripatetick or Cartesian,
30 because those antient Authors observ d and painted Man
kind well, and give the best Light into that kind of Know
ledge. He that goes into the Eastern Parts of Asia, will
find able and acceptable Men without any of these ; but
without Virtue, Knowledge of the World, and Civility, an
35 accomplished and valuable Man can be found no where.
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 Measure be un-
furnish d with, without any great Disparagement to himself
40 or Prejudice to his Affairs. But Prudence and good Breed
ing are in all the Stations and Occurrences of Life necessary;
94] True function of the Tutor. 75
and most young Men suffer in the Want of them, and come
rawer and more awkward into the World than they should, for
thjs 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 5
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 Proficiency in Things a
great Part whereof belong not to a Gentleman s Calling;
which is to have the Knowledge of a Man of Business, a 10
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 15
of it, which he learn d before, will open the Way enough for
his own Industry to carry 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 help d over some Diffi
culties by the Hand of a Master, he may then take a Man 20
that is perfectly well skilled in it, or chuse such an one as
he thinks fittest for his Purpose. But to initiate his Pupil
in any Part of Learning, as far as is necessary for a young
Man in the ordinary Course of his Studies, an ordinary Skill
in the Governor is enough. Nor is it requisite that he 25
should be a thorough Scholar, or possess in Perfection all
those Sciences which tis convenient a young Gentleman
should have a Taste of in some general View, or short
System. A Gentleman that would penetrate deeper must
do it by his own Genius and Industry afterwards : For no 30
body ever went far in Knowledge, or became eminent in
any of the Sciences, by the Discipline and Constraint of a
Master.
The great Work of a Go-senior, is to fashion the Carriage,
and form the Mind ; to settle in his Pupil good Habits and 35
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 excellent and praise-worthy ; and,
in the Prosecution of it, to give him Vigour, Activity, and
Industry. The Studies which he sets him upon, are but as 4
it were the Exercises of his Faculties, and Employment of
76 " Non vitse sed scholse discimus." [ 94
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
5 Gentleman should be an accomplish d Critick, Orator, or
Logician ? go to the Bottom of Metaphysicks, natural Philo
sophy, or Mathematicks ? or be a Master in History or
Chronology? though something of each of these is to be
taught him : But it is only to open the Door, that he may
10 look in, and as it were begin an Acquaintance, but not to
dwell there : And a Governor would be much blam d 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, Industry, and a Love of Reputation, he can-
15 not 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 hop d he should have Time and
Strength to learn all Things, most Pains should be taken
about that which rs most necessary; and that principally
20 Icok d after which will be of most and frequentest Use to him
in the World.
Seneca complains of the contrary Practice in his Time ;
and yet the JBurgursdidufs and the Scheibiers did not swarm
in those Days as they do now in these. What would he
25 have thought if he had liv d now, when the Tiitors 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 vita sed scholcz
disdains, We learn not to live, but to dispute; and our
30 Education fits us rather for the University than the World.
But tis 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 establish d, who can think it strange,
that in this, as well as in all other Things, it should prevail?
35 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? Tis nevertheless
Matter of Astonishment that Men of Quality and Parts
should suffer themselves to be so far misled by Custom and
40 implicit Faith. Reason, if consulted with, would advise,
that their Children s Time should be spent in acquiring what
94] Get Man of the World for Tutor. 77
might be useful to them when they come to be Men, rather
than to have their Heads stufPd with a deal of Trash, a
great Part whereof they usually never do ( tis 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 5
for. This is so well known, that I appeal to Parents them
selves, 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 10
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
asham d of where they are most concern d to shew their
Parts and Breeding. 15
There is yet another Reason why Politeness of Manners,
and Knowledge of the World should principally be look d
after in a Tutor ; and that is, because a Man of Parts and
Years may enter a Lad far enough in any of those
Sciences, which he has no deep Insight into himself. Books 20
in these will be able to furnish him, and give him Light and
Precedency enough to go before a young Follower: But he
will 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. 25
This is a Knowledge he must have about him, worn into
him by Use and Conversation, and a long forming himself
by what he has observ d to be practis d and allow d in the
best Company. This, if he has it not of his own, is no
where to be borrowed for the Use of his Pupil; or if he 30
could find pertinent Treatises of it in Books that would
reach all the Particulars of an English Gentleman s Beha
viour, his own ill-fashion d Example, if he be not well-bred
himself, would spoil all his Lectures; it being impossible,
that any one should come forth well-fashion d out of un- 35
polish d, 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 Enquiry or Cost
in what is of so great Moment; and that other Parents, 40
whose Estates will not reach to greater Salaries, may yet
78 Father and Son. [ 9496
remember what they should principally have an Eye to in
the Choice of one to whom they would commit the Educa
tion of their Children; and what Part they should chiefly
look after themselves, whilst they are under their Care, and
5 as often as they come within their Observation; and not
think that all lies in Latin and French or some dry Systems
of Logick and Philosophy.
95. But to return to our Method again. Though I
have mention d the Severity of the Father s
familiarity. .,.,
Brow, and the Awe settled thereby in the Mind
of Children when young, as one main Instrument whereby
their Education is to be manag d ; yet I am far from being
of an Opinion that it should be continu d all along to them,
whilst they are under the Discipline and Government of
15 Pupilage; I think it should be relax d, as fast as their Age,
Discretion 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
20 he has any Knowledge or Understanding. 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
25 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
trifling Occupations which it is commonly wasted in. For
it is easy to observe, that many young Men continue longer
30 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.
96. Another Thing of greater Consequence, which
35 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 Con
dition, yet they keep the Knowledge of their Estates and
Concerns from them with as much Reservedness as if they
4 were guarding a Secret of State from a Spy or an Enemy.
This, if it looks not like Jealousy, yet it wants those Marks
9 6 > 97] Friendship of Father and Son. 79
of Kindness and Intimacy which a Father should shew to
his Son, and no doubt often hinders or abates that Chear-
fulness and Satisfaction wherewith a Son should address
himself to, and rely upon his Father. And I cannot but
often wonder to see Fathers who love their Sons very well, 5
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 in the World, till they had lost them by being
remov d into another. Nothing cements and establishes 10
Friendship and Good-will so much as confident Communica
tion of Concernments and Affairs. Other Kindnesses, with
out 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 15
their Turn come into his Hands, he will be concern d 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 20
sensible of, the less will he envy you the Possession, and
the more think himself happy under 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 25
Recourse to, and freely consult on Occasion. The Re-
servedness and Distance that Fathers keep, often deprive
their Sons of that Refuge which would be of more Advan
tage to them than an hundred Rebukes and Chidings.
Would your Son engage in some Frolick, or take a Vagary, 30
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 him see what is like to 35
follow, take the right way of prevailing with him to avoid less
Inconveniences. Would you have him open his Heart to
you, and ask your Advice? you must begin to do so with
him first, and by your Carriage beget that Confidence.
97. But whatever he consults you about, unless it 40
lead to some fatal and irremediable Mischief, be sure you
8o Father s Friendship. ExercisingReason. [97,98
advise only as a Friend of more Experience; but with your
Advice mingle nothing of Command or Authority, nor more
than you would to your Equal or a Stranger. That would
be to drive him for ever from any farther demanding, or
5 receiving Advantage from your Counsel. You must con
sider that he is a young Man, and has Pleasures and Fancies
which you are pass d. You must not expect his Inclination
should be just as yours, nor that at twenty he should have
the same Thoughts you have at fifty. All that you can wish,
10 is, that since Youth must have some Liberty, some Out-
leaps, 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 (accord
ing as you find him capable) to talk with him about your
15 Affairs, propose Matters to him familiarly, and ask his
Advice; and when he ever lights on the right, follow it as
his ; and if it succeed well, let him have the Commenda
tion. This will not at all lessen your Authority, but increase
his Love and Esteem of you. Whilst you keep your Estate,
20 the Staff will still be in your own Hands; and your Au
thority the surer, the more it is strengthen d with Confi
dence 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
25 future Expectation.
98. 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 not
be spent in reading of Lectures, and magisterially dictating
30 to him what he is to observe and follow. Hearing him in
his turn, and using him to reason about what is propos d,
will make the Rules go down the easier and sink the deeper,
and will give him a liking to Study and Instruction: And
he will then begin to value Knowledge, when he sees that
35 it enables him to discourse, and he finds the Pleasure and
Credit of bearing a Part in the Conversation, and of having
his Reasons sometimes approv d and hearken d to; particu
larly in Morality, Prudence, and Breeding, Cases should be
put to him, and his- Judgment ask d. This opens the Un-
40 derstanding better than Maxims, how well soever explain d,
and settles the Rules better in the Mqmory for Practice.
98,99] Against Disputations. Secure Reverence. Si
This Way lets Things into the Mind, which stick there,
and retain their Evidence with them; whereas 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 Foundations and Measures 5
of Decency and Justice, and have livelier, and more lasting
Impressions of what he ought to do, by giving his Opinion
on Cases propos d, and reasoning with his Tutor on fit
Instances, than by giving a silent, negligent, sleepy Audi
ence to his Tutor s Lectures ; and much more than by 10
captious logical Disputes, or set Declamations of his own,
upon any Question. The one sets the Thoughts upon Wit
and false Colours, and not upon Truth; the other teaches
Fallacy, Wrangling, and Opiniatry; and they are both of
them Things that spoil the Judgment, and put a Man out 15
of the Way of right and fair Reasoning; and therefore care
fully to be avoided by one who would improve himself, and
be acceptable to others.
99. When by making your Son sensible that he de
pends on you, and is in your Power, you have 20
establish d your Authority; and by being inflexi
bly severe in your Carriage to him when obstinately per
sisting in any illnatur d Trick which you have forbidden,
especially Lying, you have imprinted on his Mind that Awe
which is necessary; and, on the other side, when (by permit- 25
ting 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, is as
necessary to him as Meat or Sleep) you have reconcil d him
to your Company, and made him sensible of your Care and 30
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
than I can: When, I say, by these Ways of Tenderness and 35
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 form d
in his Mind that true Reverence which is always afterwards
carefully to be continu d, and maintain d in both Parts of 40
it, Love, and Fear, as the great Principles whereby you will
82 Study the Child s Character. [ 99102
always have Hold upon him, to turn his Mind to the Ways
of Virtue and Honour.
100. When this Foundation is once well lay d, and
you find this Reverence begin to work in him,
J. cjnpcF * ^
5 the next thing to be done, is carefully to con
sider his Temper, and the particular Constitution of his
Mind. Stubbornness, Lying, and ill-natur d Actions, are
not (as has been said) to be permitted in him from the
Beginning, whatever his Temper be. Those Seeds of Vices
10 are not to be suffer d to take any Root, but must be care
fully weeded out, as soon as ever they begin to shew them
selves in him ; and your Authority is to take Place and
Influence his Mind, from the very dawning of any Know
ledge in him, that it may operate as a natural Principle,
1 5 whereof he never perceiv d the Beginning, never knew that
it was, or could be otherwise. By this, if the Reverence
he owes you be establish d early, it will always be sacred to
him, and it will be as hard for him to resist it as the Prin
ciples of his Nature.
20 101. Having thus very early set up your Authority,
and by the gentler Applications of it sham d him out of
what leads towards an immoral Habit, as soon as you have
observ d it in him, (for I would by no Means have Chiding
us d, much less Blows, till Obstinacy and Incorrigibleness
25 make it absolutely necessary) it will be fit 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
30 not more Differences in Men s Faces, and the outward
Lineaments of their Bodies, than there are in the Makes
and Tempers of their Minds; only there is this Difference,
that the distinguishing Characters of the Face, and the
Lineaments of the Body, grow more plain and visible with
35 Time and Age; but the peculiar Physiognomy of the Mind\?,
most discernible in Children, before Art and Cunning have
taught them to hide their Deformities, and conceal their ill
Inclinations under a dissembled Outside.
102. Begin therefore betimes nicely to observe your
40 Son s Temper; and that, when he is under least Restraint, in
his Play, and as he thinks out of your Sight. See what are
102 105] Child loves Liberty and Power. 83
\i\^ predominate Passions and prevailing Inclinations ; whether
he be fierce or mild, bold or bashful, compassionate or cruel,
open or reserv d &&gt;c. For as these are different in him, so
are your Methods to be different, and your Authority must
hence take Measures to apply itself different Ways to him. 5
These native Propensities, these Prevalencies of Constitution,
are not to be cur d by Rules, or a direct Contest, especially
those of them that are the humbler and meaner Sort, which
proceed from Fear, and Lowness of Spirit; though with Art
they may be much mended, and turn d to good Purposes. 10
But this, be sure, after all is done, the Byass will always
hang on that Side that Nature first plac d it: And if you
carefully observe the Characters of his Mind, now in 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 15
hereafter, when, as he grows up, the Plot thickens, and he
puts on several Shapes to act it.
103. I told you before, that Children love Liberty ;
and therefore they should be brought to do the Dominion
Things are fit for them, without feeling any 20
Restraint laid upon them. I now tell you, they love some
thing more; and that is Dominion : And this is the first
Original of most vicious Habits, that are ordinary and
natural. This Love of Power and Dominion shews itself
very early, and that in these two Things. 25
104. i. 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 Humour, for nothing but to have
their Wills. They would have their Desires submitted to
by others; they contend for a ready Compliance from all 30
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.
105. Another Thing wherein they shew their Love of
Dominion, is, their Desire to have Things to be theirs: 35
They would have Propriety and Possession, pleasing them
selves 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 observ d these two Humours working very
betimes in Children, has taken little Notice of their Actions: 40
And he who thinks that these two Roots of almost all the
62
84 Children must not be Choosers. [ 105 107
Injustice and Contention that so disturb human Life, are
not early to be weeded out, and contrary Habits introduc d,
neglects the proper Season to lay the Foundations of a good
and worthy Man. To do this, I imagine these following
5 Things may somewhat conduce.
1 06. i. That a Child should never be suffer d to
era in" ^ iave what he craves, much less what he cries
for, I had said, or so much as speaks for:
But that being apt to be misunderstood, and interpreted
10 as if I meant a Child should never speak to his Parents
for any Thing, which will perhaps be thought to lay
too great a Curb on the Minds of Children, to the
Prejudice of that Love and Affection which should be be
tween them and their Parents; I shall explain my self a
15 little more particularly. It is fit that they should have
Liberty to declare their Wants to their Parents, and that with
all Tenderness they should be hearken d to, and supply d, at
least whilst they are very little. But tis one Thing to say, I
am hungry, another to say, I would have Roast-Meat.
20 Having declar d their Wants, their natural Wants, the Pain
they feel from Hunger, Thirst, Cold, or any other Necessity
of Nature, tis 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 pro-
25 perest for them, and how much; and must not be permitted
to chuse for themselves, and say, I would have Wine, or
White-bread; the very naming of it should make them
lose it.
107. That which Parents should take care of here, is
30 to distinguish between the Wants of Fancy, and those of
Nature; which Horace has well taught them to do in this
Verse :
Qiteis humana sibi doleat nalura ncgatis.
Those are truly natural Wants, which Reason alone,
35 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 Re
laxation of the Part weary d with Labour, are what all Men
feel, and the best dispos d Minds cannot but be sensible of
40 their Uneasiness; and therefore ought, by fit Applications, to
seek their Removal, though not with Impatience, or over
107] Those that ask shall not have. 85
great Haste, 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 5
strain d too far. But yet the more Children can be inur d 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 10
are made to suffer, should neither break their Spirits, nor
injure their Health, Parents being but too apt of them
selves 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 15
gratify d 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 purposely cross the Desires of 20
their Children in Matters of Indifferency; on the contrary,
where their Carriage deserves it, and one is sure it will not
corrupt or effeminate their Minds, and make them fond of
Trifles, I think all Things should be contriv d, as much as
could be, to their Satisfaction, that they may find the Ease 25
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 obtain d, 30
all that I oppose here, is the Liberty of Asking, which in
these Things of Conceit ought to be restrain d by a constant
Forfeiture annex d to it.
This may perhaps be thought a little too severe by the
natural Indulgence of tender Parents; but yet it is no more 35
than necessary: For since the Method I propose is to
banish the Rod, this Restraint of their Tongues will be of
great Use to settle that Awe we have elsewhere spoken of,
and to keep up in them the Respect and Reverence due to
their Parents. Next, it will teach to keep in, and so master 40
their Inclinations. By this Means they will be brought to
86 Teaching of Self-restraint. [ 107
learn the Art of stifling their Desires, as soon as they rise up
in them, when they are easiest to be subdu d. For giving
Vent, gives Life and Strength to our Appetites ; and he that
has the Confidence to turn his Wishes into Demands, will
5 be but a little Way from thinking he ought to obtain them.
This, I am sure, every one can more easily bear a Denial
from himself, than from any Body else. They should there
fore be accustom d betimes to consult, and make Use of
their Reason, before they give Allowance to their Inclina-
10 tions. Tis a great Step towards the Mastery 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
15 in Matters of greater Consequence, in the future Course of
their Lives. For that which I cannot too often inculcate, is,
that whatever the Matter be about which it is conversant,
whether great or small, the main (I had almost said only)
Thing to be consider d in every Action of a Child, is, what
20 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 encourag d, whither it will lead
him when he is grown up.
My Meaning therefore is not, that Children should
25 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 Appetites ;
and their Minds, as well as Bodies, be made vigorous, easy,
and strong, by the Custom of having their Inclinations in
30 Subjection, and their Bodies exercis d with Hardships : But
all this, without giving them any Mark or Apprehension
of ill Will towards them. The constant Loss of what they
crav d or carv d to themselves, should teach them Modesty,
Submission, and a Power to forbear : But the rewarding
35 their Modesty, and Silence, by giving them what they
lik d, should also assure them of the Love of those who
rigorously exacted this Obedience. The contenting them
selves now in the Want of what they wish d for, is a Virtue
that another Time should be rewarded with what is suited
40 and acceptable to them ; which should be bestow d on them
as if it were a natural Consequence of their good Behaviour,
io/, IQ S] Curiosity encouraged. Amusements. 87
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 staunch, and carefully to be watch d. And
here the Servants come again in my Way. 5
1 08. If this be begun betimes, and they accustom
themselves early to silence their Desires, this
useful Habit will settle them; and as they
come to grow up in Age and Discretion, they may be
allow d greater Liberty, when Reason comes to speak in 10
em, and not Passion : For whenever Reason would speak,
it should be hearken d to. But as they should never be
heard, when they speak for any particular Thing they would
have, unless it be first propos d to them ; so they should
always be heard, and fairly and kindly answer d, when they 15
ask after any Thing they would know, and desire to be
inform d about. Curiosity should be as carefully cherish d
in Children, as other Appetites suppress d.
However strict an Hand is to be kept upon all Desires
of Fancy, yet there is one Case wherein Fancy Kecreai - n 20
must be permitted to speak, and be hearken d
to also. Recreation is as necessary as Labour or Food.
But because there can be no Recreation without Delight,
which depends not always on Reason, but oftner on Fancy,
it must be permitted Children not only to divert themselves, 25
but to do it after their own Fashion, provided it be inno
cently, and without Prejudice to their Health ; and therefore
in this Case they should not be deny d, if they proposed
any particular kind of Recreation. Tho I think in a well-
order d Education, they will seldom be brought to the 30
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 weary d with
one, they should be timely diverted to some other useful
Employment. But if they are not yet brought to that 35
Degree of Perfection, that one Way of Improvement can
be made a Recreation to them, they must be let loose to
the childish Play they fancy ; which they should be wean d
from by being made to surfeit of it : But from Things
of Use, that they are employ d in, they should always be 40
sent away with an Appetite; at least be dismiss d before they
88 Free Recreations. Mutual Civility. [ ic, 109
are tir d, and grow quite sick of it, that so they may return
to it again, as to a Pleasure that diverts them. For you
must never think them set right, till they can find Delight
in the Practice of laudable Things ; and the useful Exer-
5 cises of the Body and Mind, taking their Turns, make their
Lives and Improvement pleasant in a continu d Train of
Recreations, wherein the weary d Part is constantly reliev d
and refresh d. Whether this can be done in every Temper,
or whether Tutors and Parents will be at the Pains, and
10 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
15 may freely be talk d with about what most delights them,
and be directed or let loose to it ; so that they may per
ceive that they are belov d and cherish d, and that those
under whose Tuition they are, are not Enemies to their
Satisfaction. Such a Management will make them in love
20 with the Hand that directs them, and the Virtue they are
directed to.
This farther Advantage may be made by a free Liberty
permitted them in their Recreations, that it will
Complaints. r ,. , . , r _ , , . _
discover their natural Tempers, shew their In-
25 clinations and Aptitudes, and thereby direct wise Parents
in the Choice both of the Course of Life and Employ
ment they shall design them for, and of fit Remedies, in
the mean time, to be apply d to whatever Bent of Nature
they may observe most likely to mislead any of their
30 Children.
109. 2. Children who live together, often strive for
Mastery, whose Wills shall carry it over the rest : Whoever
begins the Contest, should be sure to be cross d in it. But
not only that, but they should be taught to have all the
35 Deference, Complaisance, and Civility one for the other imagin
able. This, when they see it procures them Respect, Love
and Esteem, and that they lose no Superiority by it, they
will take more Pleasure in, than in insolent Domineering ;
for so plainly is the other.
4 The Accusations of Children one against another, which
usually are but the Clamours of Anger and Revenge de-
io9, no] No tale-bearing. Reward Liberality. 89
siring Aid, should not be favourably received, nor hearken d
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 5
harden them early. But though you give no Countenance
to the Complaints of the Querulous, yet take Care to curb
the Insolence and ill Nature of the Injurious. When you
observe it your self, reprove it before the injur d Party:
But if the Complaint be of something really worth your 10
Notice, and Prevention another time, then reprove the
Offender by himself alone, out of sight of him that com-
plain d, and make him go and ask Pardon, and make Repa
ration : Which coming thus, as it were from himself, will be
the more chearfully performed, and more kindly receiv d, 15
the Love strengthen d between them, and a Custom of
Civility grow familiar amongst your Children.
no. 3. As to the having and possessing of Things,
teach them to part with what they have, easily LiberaUt
and freely to their Friends, and let them find 20
by Experience that the most liberal has always the most
Plenty, with Esteem and Commendation to boot, and they
will quickly learn to practise it. This I imagine, will make
Brothers and Sisters kinder and civiller to one another,
and consequently to others, than twenty Rules about good 25
Manners, with which Children are ordinarily perplex d and
cumber d. Covetousness, and the Desire of having in our
Possession, and under our Dominion, more than we have
need of, being the Root of all Evil, should be early and
carefully weeded out, and the contrary Quality of a Readi- 30
ness to impart to others, implanted. This should be en-
courag d by great Commendation and Credit, and con
stantly taking care that he loses nothing by his Liberality.
Let all the Instances he gives of such Freeness be always
repay d, and with Interest ; and let him sensibly perceive, 35
that the Kindness he shews to others, is no ill Husbandry
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 out-do one
another this Way : And by this Means, by a constant Prac- 43
tice, Children having made it easy to themselves to part
90 Education in Justice. [ no
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 others.
If Liberality ought to be encourag d, certainly great Care
5 . is to be taken that Children transgress not the
tie Rules of Justice: And whenever they do, they
should be set right, and if there be Occasion for it, severely
rebuk d.
Our first Actions being guided more by Self-love than
10 Reason or Reflection, tis no wonder that in Children they
should be very apt to deviate from the just Measures of
Right and Wrong ; which are in the Mind the Result of
improv d Reason and serious Meditation. This the more
they are apt to mistake, the more careful Guard ought to be
15 kept over them; and every the least Slip in this great social
Virtue taken notice of, and rectify d ; and that in Things of
the least Weight and Moment, both to instruct their Ig
norance, and prevent ill Habits ; which from small Begin
nings in Pins and Cherry-stones, will, if let alone, grow up
20 to higher Frauds, and be in Danger to end at last in down
right harden d Dishonesty. The first Tendency to any In
justice that appears, must be suppress d with a shew of
Wonder and Abhorrence in the Parents and Governors.
But because Children cannot well comprehend what Injustice
25 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 Liberality, and an Easiness to
part with to others whatever they have or like themselves.
This may be taught them early, before they have Language
30 and Understanding enough to form distinct Notions of Pro
perty, and to know what is theirs by a peculiar Right ex
clusive 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
35 any Thing but what is given them by those, whom they take
to have Power over it. And as their Capacities enlarge,
other Rules and Cases of Justice, and Rights concerning
Meum and Tuum, may be propos d and inculcated. If any
Act of Injustice in them appears to proceed, not from Mis-
40 take, but a Perverseness in their Wills, when a gentle Re
buke and Shame will not reform this irregular and covetous
no 112] Crying. 91
Inclination, rougher Remedies must be apply d : And tis
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 5
possessing themselves 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 instill d into em, as I think it may,
that is the true and genuine Method to obviate this Crime, 10
and will be a better Guard against Dishonesty than any Con
siderations drawn from Interest ; Habits working more con
stantly, and with greater Facility, than Reason, which, when
we have most need of it, is seldom fairly consulted, and
more rarely obey d. 15
in. Crying is a Fault that should not be tolerated in
Children ; not only for the unpleasant and un
becoming Noise it fills the House with, but for
more considerable Reasons, in Reference to the Children
themselves ; which is to be our Aim in Education. 20
Their Crying is of two Sorts ; either stubborn and domi
neering^ or querulous and whining.
i. Their Crying is very often a striving for Mastery,
and an open Declaration of their Insolence or Obstinacy;
when they have not the Power to obtain their Desire, they 25
will, by their Clamour and Sobbing, maintain their Title and
Right to it. This is an avow d continuing their Claim, and
a sort of Remonstrance against the Oppression and Injustice
of those who deny them what they have a mind to.
ii2. 2. Sometimes their Crying is the effect -of Pain, 30
or true Sorrow, and a Bemoaning themselves under it.
These two, if carefully observ d, may, by the Mien,
Looks, Actions, and particularly by the Tone of their
Crying, be easily distinguished ; but neither of them must
be suffer d, much less encourag d. 35
i. 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 tis our main Business to subdue : And if it be as
often it is, upon the receiving any Correction, it quite 40
defeats all the good Effects of it; for any Chastisement
92 Stomachful Crying. [ 112, 113
which leaves them in this declar d Opposition, only serves
to make them worse. The Restraints and Punishments
laid on Children are all misapply d and lost, as far as they
do not prevail over their Wills, teach them to submit their
5 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 wherein they are cross d, they may be
suffer d to go away crying, they confirm themselves in their
10 Desires, and cherish the ill Humour, with a Declaration
of their Right, and a Resolution to satisfy their Inclination
the first Opportunity. This therefore is another Argument
against the frequent Use of Blows : For, whenever you
come to that Extremity, tis not enough to whip or beat
15 them, you must do it, till you find you have subdu d 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
20 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 chastis d, it were done thus with-
25 out Passion, soberly, and yet effectually too, laying on the
Blows and Smart not furiously, and all at once, but slowly,
with Reasoning between, and with Observation how it
wrought, stopping when it had made them pliant, penitent
and yielding; they would seldom need the like Punishment
30 again, being made careful to avoid the Fault that deserv d
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 perceiv d that it reach d the Mind, and that was better d.
35 For since the Chiding or Beating of Children should be
always the least that possibly may be, that which is laid
on in the Heat of Anger, seldom observes that Measure,
but is commonly more than it should be, though it prove
less than enough.
40 113. 2. Many children are apt to cry, upon any
little Pain they suffer, and the least Harm that befals them
ii 3 , H4] Stop Whining. 93
puts them into Complaints and Bawling. This few Chil
dren avoid : For it being the first and natural Way to de
clare 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 5
speak. ; Tis the Duty, I confess, of those about Children,
to compassionate them, whenever they suffer any Hurt;
but not to shew 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 10
Harms that happen to them ; whereby they sink deeper
into that Part which alone feels, and makes larger Wounds
there, than otherwise they would. They should be har
den d against all Sufferings, especially of the Body, and
have no Tenderness but what rises from an ingenuous 15
Shame, and a quick Sense of Reputation. The many In
conveniences this Life is expos d 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. Tis the suffering of our Spirits that 20
gives and continues the Pain. This Brawniness and In
sensibility 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 25
betimes; and happy is he that is taught it early. That
Effeminacy of Spirit, which is to be prevented or cured,
as 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 hinder d from that sort of 30
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 bemoaning 35
them. 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.
114. The former sort of Crying requires Severity to
silence it; and where a Look, or a positive Command will 40
not do it, Blows must : For it proceeding from Pride, Obsti-
94 Cases of Fool-hardiness. [ 114, 115
nacy, 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
5 Hand. Persuasion, 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 unvariable Rules can be given
10 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 Authority, should always
stop it, mixing a greater Degree of Roughness in his Looks
1 5 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.
115. Cowardice and Courage are so nearly related to
the foremention d Tempers, that it may not be
20 ness. am iss here to take Notice of them. Fear is a
Passion that, if rightly governed, has its Use.
And though Self-love seldom fails to keep it watchful and
high enough in us, yet there may be an Excess on the
daring Side ; Fool-hardiness and Insensibility of Danger
25 being as little reasonable, as trembling and shrinking at the
Approach of every little Evil. Fear was given us as a
Monitor to quicken our Industry, 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
30 just Estimate of the Danger, but heedlessly to run into it,
be the Hazard what it will, without considering of what Use
or Consequence it may be, is not the Resolution of a
rational Creature, but brutish Fury. Those who have
Children of this Temper, have nothing to do, but a little to
35 awaken their Reason, which Self-preservation will quickly
dispose them to hearken to, unless (which is usually the
Case) some other Passion hurries them on head-long, with
out Sense and without Consideration. A Dislike of Evil is
so natural to Mankind, that no body, I think, can be with-
40 out Fear of it: Fear being nothing but an Uneasiness under
the Apprehension of that coming upon us, which we dislike.
115] True Courage. 95
And therefore, whenever any one runs into Danger, we may
say, tis under the Conduct of Ignorance, or the Command
of some more imperious Passion, no body 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 5
be therefore Pride, Vain-glory, or Rage, that silences a
Child s Fear, or makes him not hearken to its Advice, those
are by fit Means to be abated, 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 10
that Children are not so often guilty of, I shall not be more
particular 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 Virtues;
and without Courage a Man will scarce keep . 15
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 an Estate, as ours is in this Life, expos d to urafe 20
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 defective, and the Heart is in it self weak and timor
ous, it may, by a right Management, be brought to a better 25
Resolution. What is to be done to prevent breaking Child
ren s Spirits by frightful Apprehensions instill d into them when
young, or bemoaning themselves under every little Suffering,
I have already taken notice; how to harden their Tempers,
and raise their Courage, if we find them too much subject to 30
Fear, is farther to be consider d.
True Fortitude, I take to be the quiet Possession of a
Man s self, and an undisturb d doing his Duty, whatever
Evil besets, or Danger lies in his Way. This there are so
few Men attain to, that we are not to expect it from Chil- 35
dren. But yet something may be done : And a wise
Conduct by insensible Degrees may carry 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 40
have this Virtue in it s full Latitude when they are Men.
96 Cowardice due to Education. [ 115
I should not say this in a Nation so naturally brave, as ours
is, did I think that true Fortitude 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,
5 nor can be denied the Laurels and Honours 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,
10 have frightful Looks, able to discompose most Men whom
they seem ready to seize on : And there are those who con
temn some of these, and yet are heartily frighted with the
other. True Fortitude is prepar d for Dangers of all kinds,
and unmoved, whatsoever Evil it be that threatens. I do
15 not mean unmoved with any Fear at all. Where Danger
shews it self, Apprehension cannot, without Stupidity, be
wanting: Where Danger is, Sense of Danger should be; and
so much Fear as should keep us awake, and excite our Atten
tion, Industry, and Vigour; but not disturb the calm Use of
20 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 talk d
25 into them, nor terrible Objects surprize them. This often
so shatters and discomposes the Spirits, that they never re
cover it again; but during their whole Life, upon the first
Suggestion or Appearance of any terrifying Idea, are scat-
ter d and confounded ; the Body is enervated, and the Mind
30 disturb d, and the Man scarce himself, or capable of any
composed or rational Action. Whether this be from an
habitual Motion of the animal Spirits, introduc d by the first
strong Impression, or from the Alteration of the Constitution
by some more unaccountable way, this is certain, that so it
35 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 every where to be seen, and there
fore as much as may be to be prevented.
The next thing is by gentle Degrees to accustom
40 Children to those things they are too much afraid of. But
here great Caution is to be used, that you do not make too
115] What is Fear? 97
much Haste, nor attempt this Cure too early, for fear lest
you increase the Mischief instead of remedying it. Little
ones in Arms may be easily kept out of the way of terrifying
Objects, and till they can talk and understand what is said
to them, are scarce capable of that Reasoning and Dis- 5
course which should be used to let them know there is no
harm in those frightful Objects, which we would make them
familiar with, and do, to that Purpose by gentle Degrees
bring nearer and nearer to them. And therefore tis seldom
there is need of any Application to them of this kind, till 10
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
shew Marks of Terror as often as it comes in sight; all
the Allays of Fright, by diverting their Thoughts, or mixing 1 5
pleasant and agreeable Appearances with it, must be used,
till it be grown familiar and inoffensive to them.
I think we may observe, That, when Children are first
born, all Objects of Sight that do not hurt the Eyes, are
indifferent to them; and they are no more afraid of a 20
Blackamoor or a Lion, than of their Nurse or a Cat. What
is it then, that afterwards, in certain Mixtures of Shape and
Colour, comes to affright them ? Nothing but the Appre
hensions of Harm that accompanies those things. Did a
Child suck every Day a new Nurse, I make account it 25
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 receive its Food and kind Usage only from one or two
that are about it, the Child apprehends, by coming into the 30
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 away.
The only thing we naturally are afraid of is Pain,
or Loss of Pleasure. And because these are TimorousnesSf 35
not annexed to any Shape, Colour, or Size of
visible Objects, we are frighted with none of them, 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 40
they always desire to be handling of it : But when constant
98 Education to Courage. [ 115
Experience 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, tis not hard to find whence it arises, and
5 how it is to be cured in all mistaken Objects of Terror.
And when the Mind is confirai d against them, and has got a
Mastery over it self and its usual Fears in lighter Occa
sions, it is in good Preparation to meet more real Dangers.
Your Child shrieks, and runs away at the Sight of a Frog;
10 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 with
out Emotion ; then to touch it lightly, when it is held fast
in another s Hand; and so on, till he can come to handle it
1 5 as confidently as a Butterfly or a Sparrow. By the same
way any other vain Terrors may be remov d; 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 confirm d
in the former. And thus the young Soldier is to be train d
20 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 tole him
on to by insensible Degrees, till he at last, quitting his
25 Fears, masters the Difficulty, and comes off with Applause.
Successes of this Kind, often repeated, will make him find,
that Evils are not always so certain or so great as our
Fears represent them; and that the way to avoid them, is
not to run away, or be discompos d, dejected, and deterr d
30 by Fear, where either our Credit or Duty requires us to
go on.
But since the great Foundation of Fear in Children is
Pain, the way to harden and fortify Children
Hardiness. . J . . J .
against tear and Danger is to accustom them
35 to suffer Pain. This tis 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. Twill be said :
It may perhaps give the Child an Aversion for him that
40 makes him suffer; but can never recommend to him Suf
fering itself. This is a strange Method. You will not
115] Hardening by voluntary Pain. 99
have Children whipp d and punish d for their Faults, but
you would have them tormented for doing well, or for
tormenting sake. I doubt not but such Objections as these
will be made, and I shall be thought inconsistent with my
self, or fantastical, in proposing it. I confess, it is a thing 5
to be managed with great Discretion, and therefore it falls
not out amiss, that it will not be receiv d or relish d, 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 10
greatest Punishment: And I would have them, when they do
well, be sometimes put in Pain, for the same Reason, that
they might be accustom d to bear it, without looking on it as
the greatest Evil. How much Education may reconcile
young People to Pain and Sufferance, the Examples of 15
Sparta do sufficiently shew: 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 Lacedemonian Discipline in our 20
Age or Constitution. But yet I do say, that inuring Chil
dren gently to suffer some Degrees of Pain without shrink
ing, is a way to gain Firmness to their Minds, and lay a
Foundation for Courage and Resolution in the future Part of
their Lives. 25
Not to bemoan them, or permit them to bemoan them
selves, on every little Pain 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 Repenting on the other, go along
with it : And it must be sure to be no more than the Child
can bear without repining or taking it amiss, or for a Pun
ishment. Managed by these Degrees, and with such Cir
cumstances, 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. Satisfy
72
ioo How Courage may be trained. [ 115, 116
a Child by a constant Course of your Care and Kindness,
that you perfectly love him, and he may by Degrees be
accustom d to bear very painful and rough Usage from you,
without flinching or complaining: And this we see Children
5 do every Day in play one with another. 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 Degrees, when you are playing, and in good
10 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 is given him for his Courage; when
he can take a Pride in giving such Marks of his Manliness,
and can prefer the Reputation of being Pjrave and Stout, to
15 the avoiding a little Pain, or the Shrinking under it; you
need not despair in time and by the Assistance of his grow
ing Reason, to master his Timorousness, and mend the
Weakness of his Constitution. As he grows bigger, he is
to be set upon bolder Attempts than his natural Temper
20 carries him to ; and whenever he is observ d 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 sham d to, till at last
Practice has given more Assurance, and with it a Mastery ;
25 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 deterr d from
what he ought to do, by the Apprehension of Danger; when
Fear does not, in sudden or hazardous Occurrences, dis-
30 compose his Mind, set his 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 Hardiness we
Should endeavour by Custom and Use to bring Children to,
as proper Occasions come in our way.
35 1 1 6. One thing I have frequently observ d in Chil-
Crucit dren, that when they have got Possession of any
poor Creature, they are apt to use it ill : They
often torment, and treat very roughly, young Birds, Butter
flies, and such other poor Animals which fall into their
40 Hands, and that with a seeming kind of Pleasure. This I
think should be watched in them, and if they incline to
n6] Prevent Cruelty and Mischief. 101
any such Cruelty, they should be taught the contrary Usage.
For the Custom of tormenting and killing of Beasts, will,
by Degrees, harden their Minds even towards Men; and
they who delight in the Suffering and Destruction of inferior
Creatures, will not be apt to be very compassionate or 5
benign to those of their own kind. Our Practice takes
notice of this in the Exclusion of Butchers from Juries of
Life and Death. Children should from the beginning be
bred up in an Abhorrence of killing or tormenting any
living Creature; and be taught not to spoil or destroy any 10
thing, unless it be for the Preservation or Advantage 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, Politicks and Morality 15
by, the World would be much quieter, and better natur d
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 20
such things as young Girls use to be delighted 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 25
often forfeited their Possession, or at least they fail d 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. 30
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 my self to be any
other than a foreign and introduced Disposition, an Habit 35
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
and Talk of History is of nothing almost but Fighting and 40
Killing : And the Honour and Renown that is bestowed
io2 Cruelty not from Nature but Habit. [116,117
on Conquerors (who for the most part are but the great
Butchers of Mankind) farther mislead growing Youth, who
by this means come to think Slaughter the laudable Busi
ness of Mankind, and the most heroick of Virtues. By
5 these Steps unnatural Cruelty is planted in us ; and what
Humanity abhors, Custom reconciles and recommends to
us, by laying it in the way to Honour. Thus, by Fashion
and Opinion, that comes to be a Pleasure, which in it self
neither is, nor can be any. This ought carefully to be
10 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
beforemention d. It may not perhaps be unreasonable here
15 to add this farther Caution, viz, That the Mischiefs or
Harms that come by Play, Inadvertency, or Ignorance,
and were not known to be Harms, or design d for Mischief s
sake, though they may perhaps be sometimes of consider
able Damage, yet are not at all, or but very gently, to be
20 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
25 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, what-
30 ever displeasing Circumstances it may have, is to be passed
by without any Animadversion.
117. Another way to instill Sentiments of Humanity,
and to keep them lively in young Folks, will be, to accus
tom them to Civility in their Language and Deportment
35 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
40 and Species beneath them. Whether ill Example, the
Advantage of Fortune, or their natural Vanity, inspire this
ii7,n8] Manners to Servants. Curiosity again. 103
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 Supe
riority will be hereby lost; but the Distinction increased,
and their Authority strengthen d ; when Love in Inferiors 5
is join d to outward Respect, and an Esteem of the Person
has a Share in their Submission : And Domesticks will pay
a more ready and chearful Service, when they find them
selves not spum d because Fortune has laid them below
the Level of others at their Master s Feet. Children should 10
not be suffer d to lose the Consideration of human Nature
in the Shufflings of outward Conditions. The more they
have, the better humour d they should be taught to be, and
the more compassionate and gentle to those of their Breth-
ren who are placed lower, and have scantier Portions. If 1 5
they are suffer d 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. 20
And where will that probably end but in Oppression and
Cruelty ?
1 1 8. Curiosity in Children (which I had Occasion
just to mention 108.) is but an Appetite after _ . .
Knowledge; and therefore ought to be encou- 25
raged in them, not only as a good Sign, but as the great
Instrument Nature has provided to remove that Ignorance
they were born with ; and which, without this busy Inquisi-
tiveness, will mak e them dull and useless Creatures. The
ways to encourage it, and keep it active and busy, are, I 30
suppose, these following :
i. Not to check or discountenance any Enquiries he
shall make, nor suffer them to be laugh d at ; but to answer
all his Questions, and explain the Matter he desires to know,
so as to make them as much intelligible to him as suits the 35
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 tis his Mind aims
at in the Question, and not what Words he expresses it in : 40
And when you have informed and satisfied him in that, you
104 Knowledge a Pleasure. [ 118 120
shall see how his Thoughts will enlarge themselves, and
how by fit Answers he may be led on farther than perhaps
you could imagine. For Knowledge is grateful to the
Understanding, as Light to the Eyes : Children are pleased
5 and delighted with it exceedingly, especially if they see
that their Enquiries 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
10 Time insipidly, is, because they have found their Curiosity
baulk d, and their Enquiries neglected. But had they been
treated with more Kindness and Respect, and their Ques
tions answered, as they should, to their Satisfaction ; I
doubt not but they would have taken more Pleasure in
15 Learning, 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.
119. 2. To this serious answering their Questions,
20 and informing their Understandings, in what they desire, 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
25 from our Cradles, vain and proud Creatures, let their Vanity
be flatter d with Things that will do them good; and let
their Pride set them on work on something which may turn
to their Advantage. Upon this Ground you shall find, that
there cannot be a greater Spur to the attaining what you
30 would have the Eldest learn, and know himself, than to set
him upon teaching it his younger Brothers and Sisters.
120. 3. As Children s Enquiries are not to be
slighted ; so also great Care is to be taken, that they never
receive deceitful and eluding Answers. They easily perceive
35 when they are slighted or deceived ; and quickly learn the
Trick of Neglect, Dissimulation and Falshood, which they
observe others to make use of. We are not to intrench
upon Truth in any Conversation, but least of all with
Children; since if we play false with them, we not only
40 deceive their Expectation, and hinder their Knowledge,
but corrupt their Innocence, and teach them the worst of
i2o] Children s Questions. 105
Vices. They are Travellers newly arrived in a strange
Country, of which they know nothing; we should there
fore make Conscience not to mislead them. And though
their Questions seem sometimes not very material, yet they
should be seriously answer d : For however they may appear 5
to us (to whom they are long since known) Enquiries not
worth the making; they are of Moment to those who are
wholly ignorant. Children are Strangers to all we are ac
quainted with ; and all the things they meet with, are at
first unknown to them, as they once were to us : And 10
happy are they who meet with civil People, that will com
ply with 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 15
and Enquiries of Children ; should we, I say, be set down
in Japan, we should, no doubt (if we would inform our
selves of what is there to be known) ask a thousand Ques
tions, which, to a supercilious or inconsiderate Japaner,
would seem very idle and impertinent ; though to us they 20
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 satisfy our Demands, and instruct our
Ignorance.
When any new thing comes in their way, Children 25
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 call d, is usually the proper
Answer to that Demand. And the next Question usually
is, What is it for ? And to this it should be answered truly 30
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 35
capable of; and so leading them by your Answers into
farther Questions. And perhaps to a grown Man, such
Conversation will not be altogether so idle and insignificant
as we are apt to imagine. The native and untaught Sugges
tions of inquisitive Children do often offer things, that may 40
set a considering Man s Thoughts on Work. And I think
io6 Children s Reasoning. [ 120 123
there is frequently more to be learn d from the unexpected
Questions of a Child, than the Discourses of Men, who talk
in a Road, according to the Notions they have borrowed,
and the Prejudices of their Education.
5 121. 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 Enquiry, and give
them Occasion to inform themselves about them : And if by
chance their Curiosity leads them to ask what they should
10 not know, it is a great deal better to tell them plainly, that
it is a thing that belongs not to them to know, than to pop
them off Avith a Falshood or a frivolous Answer.
122. Pertncss, that appears sometimes so early, pro
ceeds from a Principle that seldom accompanies a strong
15 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 Com-
20 pany, and a Diversion to others, whilst a Child : Though if
that too were to be consider d, 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 Judg-
25 ment, as far as it is capable. When his Reasons are any
way tolerable, let him find the Credit and Commendation of
it : And when they are quite out of the way, let him, with
out being laugh d at for his Mistake, be gently put into the
right; and if he shew a Forwardness to be reasoning about
30 Things that come in his way, take care, as much as you can,
that no body 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
35 cultivating it : The right Improvement, and Exercise of our
Reason being the highest Perfection that a Man can attain
to in this Life.
123. Contrary to this busy inquisitive Temper, there
is sometimes observable in Children, a listless
^ Q Sauntering. (^ are i essnesS) a wan t of Regard to any thing, and
a sort of trifling even at their Business. This sauntring
123, I2 4] Sauntering. 107
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 natural. But it being liable to be mistaken in some
Cases, Care must be taken to make a right Judgment con
cerning that trifling at their Books or Business, which may 5
sometimes be complained of in a Child. Upon the first
Suspicion a Father has, that his Son is of a sauntring
Temper, he must carefully observe him, whether he be
listless and indifferent in all in his Actions, or whether in
some things alone he be slow and sluggish, but in others 10
vigorous and eager. For tho we 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 sauntring Humour in his
Temper. It may be childishness, and a preferring something 15
to his Study, which his Thoughts run on : And he dislikes
his Book, as is natural, 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 2 o
and active; whether he designs any thing, and with Labour
and Eagerness pursues it, till he has accomplished what he
aimed at, or whether he lazily and listlesly 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 25
will require a little more Pains and Attention to remedy it.
124. If you are satisfied by his Earnestness at play,
or any thing else he sets his Mind on, in the Intervals be
tween his Hours of Business, that he is not of himself in
clined to Laziness, but that only want of Relish of his Book 30
makes him negligent and sluggish in his Application 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 35
only these plain Reasons in short. If this prevails, you
have gain d 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 40
be no Strangers there, How long he was that Day about his
toS How to deal with Listlessness. [ 124, 125
Business: And if he has not done it in the time he might
be well supposed to have dispatched 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;
5 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 Edu
cation, you will not be at the Charge to have him spend his
Time idly with him ; but since he prefers This or That
10 [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
15 when you thus set him his Task of Play, you must be sure
to look after him your self, or set some Body 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, your self look
after him; for it is worth the Father s while, whatever Busi-
20 ness he has, to bestow two or three Days upon his Son, to
cure so great a Mischief as his sauntring at his Business.
125. This is what I propose, if it be Idleness, not
from his general Temper, but a peculiar or acquir d Aver
sion to Learning, which you must be careful to examine and
25 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 Inclination, which he being full of, and not daring,
30 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 executing.
35 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 perfect Freedom, let some body
you can trust mark how he spends his Time, whether he
40 unactively loiters it away, when without any Check he is left
to his own Inclination. Thus, by his Employing of such
i25 12 7] Implant desire or give Hand-work. 109
Times of Liberty, you will easily discern, whether it be
Listkssness in his Temper, or Aversion to his Book, that
makes him saunter away his Time of Study.
126. If some Defect in his Constitution has cast a
Damp on his Mind, and he be naturally listless and dream- 5
ing, this unpromising Disposition is none of the 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 10
contrary Temper, will be the Question. As soon as you
are satisfied that this is the Case, you must carefully enquire
whether there be nothing he delights in : Inform your self
what it is he is most pleased with ; and if you can find
any particular Tendency his Mind hath, increase it all you 15
can, and make use of that to set him on Work, and to excite
his Industry. If he loves Praise, or Play, or fine Clothes,
&c. 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 that 20
be made use of to quicken him, and make him bestir him
self. For in this listless Temper, you are not to fear an
Excess of Appetite (as in all other Cases) by cherishing it.
Tis that which you want, and therefore must labour to
raise and increase; for where there is no Desire, there will 25
be no Industry.
127. If you have not Hold enough upon him this
Way, to stir up Vigour and Activity in him, you must em
ploy him in some constant bodily Labour, whereby he
may get an Habit of doing something. The keeping him 30
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 no body can tell when
he is or is not idle at it, you must find bodily Employments
for him, which he must be constantly busied in, and kept 35
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 be done in such a Time 40
as may allow him no Opportunity to be idle. Only after
no Set Tasks of Play. [ 127129
you have by this Way brought him to be attentive and in
dustrious at his Book, you may, upon his dispatching his
Study within the Time set him, give him as a Reward
some Respite from his other Labour; which you may
5 diminish as you find him grow more and more steady in
his Application, and at last wholly take off when his
sauntring at his Book is cured.
128. We formerly observed, that Variety and Free
dom was That that delighted Children, and
Compulsion. j j ^i -ni i i i
10 recommended their Plays to them ; and that
therefore their Book, or any Thing we would have them
learn, 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
15 to do, suffers them not to deceive them into it : But by
the repeated Injunctions they meet with, Children quickly
distinguish 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
20 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.
25 This, if I mistake not, will in a few Days make him so
weary of his most beloved Sport, that he will prefer his
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 suffered to employ some Part of the Time destined
30 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 Ap-
35 petite (which may safely be done in all Things but eating
and drinking) and made him 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.
40 129. This I think is sufficiently evident, that Children
generally hate to be idle. All the Care then is, that their
129] Play or "Work? in
busy Humour should be constantly employ d in something
of Use to them ; which, if you will attain, you must make
what you would have them do a Recreation to them, and
not a Biisiness. The Way to do this, so that they may
not perceive you have any Hand in it, is this proposed 5
here ; viz. To make them weary of that which you would
not have them do, by enjoining 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, 10
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 Recreations 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 15
for having performed his Task in that Play which is com
manded him. For if he be ordered every Day to whip his
Top so long as to make him sufficiently weary, do you not
think he will apply himself with Eagerness to his Book,
j and wish for it, if you promise it him as a Reward of 20
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 25
them make to be a Reward to them, will really be so.
By this Art it is in their Governor s Choice, whether Scotch-
hoppers shall reward their Dancing, or Dancing their Scotch-
hoppers ; whether Peg-Top, or Reading ; playing at Trap,
or studying the Globes, shall be more acceptable and 30
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 Respect and with whom they
would be in Credit. A Set of Children thus ordered and 35
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, 40
it would be as impossible to hinder them from learn-
ii2 Playthings. [ 129, 130
ing the one, as it is ordinarily to keep them from the
other.
130. Play-things, I think, Children should have, and
of divers sorts ; but still to be in the Custody
5 a - " es " of their Tutors or some body else, whereof
the Child should have in his Power but one at once, and
should not be suffered to have another but when he re
stored that. This teaches them betimes to be careful of
not losing or spoiling the Things they have ; whereas Plenty
10 and Variety in their own keeping, makes them wanton and
careless, and teaches them from the Beginning to be Squan
derers 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
15 and neglected, and whatsoever introduces Habits, and settles
Customs 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 Play-things may be
worth their Parents Care. Though it be agreed they should
20 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 stretching itself after something
25 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 Covetousness, almost before they
30 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 ?
35 What new Thing shall I have? A good Introduction to
moderate Desires, and the ready Way to make a contented
happy Man !
" How then shall they have the Play-games you allow
them, if none must be bought for them?" I answer, They
40 should make them themselves, or at least endeavour it, and
set themselves about it; till then they should have none, and
130, 131] Educational Use of Games. 113
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 Children as those more chargeable and
curious Toys from the Shops, which are presently put out of 5
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. 10
Indeed, when they once begin to set themselves to work
about any of their Inventions, they should be taught and
assisted ; but should have nothing whilst they lazily sit still,
expecting to be furnish d from other hands, without employ
ing their own. And if you help them where they are at a 15
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 procured
them. These tis convenient they should have, not for 20
Variety but Exercise; but these too should be given 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 25
accustom them to seek for what they want, in themselves
and in their own Endeavours; 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 30
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 Tendency to Good or Evil: And 35
whatever hath such an Influence, ought not to be neg
lected.
131. Lying is so ready and cheap a Cover for any
Miscarriage, and so much in Fashion among all .
Sorts of People, that a Child can hardly avoid 40
observing the use is made of it on all Occasions, and so can
Q. 8
Ti4 Lying and Excuses. [ 131, 132
scarce be kept without great Care from getting into it. But
it is so ill a Quality, 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
5 imaginable. It should be always (when occasionally it
comes to be mention d) spoke of before him with the utmost
Detestation, as a Quality so wholly 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
TO judg d the utmost Disgrace, which debases a Man to the
lowest Degree of a shameful Meanness, and ranks him with
the most contemptible Part of Mankind and the abhorred
Rascality; and is not to be endured in any one who would
converse with People of Condition, or have any Esteem or
15 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 Dis-
20 pleasure of his Father and Mother and all about him
who take Notice of it. And if this Way work not the
Cure, you must come to Blows ; for after he has been
thus warned, a premeditated Lie must always be looked
upon as Obstinacy, and never be permitted to escape un-
25 punished.
132. 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,
30 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
35 be chastised ; but if he directly confess, you must commend
his Ingenuity, 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
40 habitual to him, you must take care that it never procure
him the least Inconvenience; but on the contrary, his own
5 1.^1 S
132 135] Seem to trust. The four Requisites. 115
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 Falshood in it, let it pass for true, and be sure not
to shew any Suspicion of it. Let him keep up his Reputa- 5
tion with you as high as is possible; for when once he finds he
has lost that, you have lost a great, and your best Hold upon
him. Therefore let him not think he has 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 over-looked. 10
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 Perverseness, 15
and must have the Chastisement due to that Offence.
133. 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 20
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. 25
134. That which every Gentleman (that takes any
care of his Education) desires for his Son, besides the
Estate he leaves him, is contain d (I suppose) in these four
Things, Virtue, Wisdom, Breeding, and Learning. I will
not trouble my self whether these Names do not some of 30
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 presume, is clear enough to
make me be understood, and I hope there will be no Diffi
culty to comprehend my Meaning. 35
135. I place Virtue as the first and most necessary of
those Endowments that belong to a Man or a Gentleman;
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 4
World.
82
n6 Virtue. First Teaching about God. [ 136, 137
136. As the Foundation of this, there
ought very early to be imprinted on his Mind a
true Notion of God, as of the independent Supreme Being,
Author and Maker of all Things, from whom we receive all
5 our Good, who loves us, and gives us all things. And con
sequent 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 early to him of Spirits, and being unseasonably forward
10 to make him understand the incomprehensible Nature of
that infinite Being, his Head be either fill d with false, or
perplex d 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
15 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 ob
serve them to have any Mistakes, you must set right. And
I think it would be better if Men generally rested in such an
20 Idea of God, without being too curious in their Notions
about a Being which all must acknowledge incomprehen
sible; whereby many, who have not Strength and Clearness
of Thought to distinguish between what they can, and what
they cannot know, run themselves in Superstition or Atheism,
25 making God like themselves, or (because they cannot com
prehend any thing else) none at all. And I am apt to think,
the keeping Children constantly 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
30 to their Age and Capacity, will be of much more Use to
them in Religion, Knowledge, and Virtue, than to distract
their Thoughts with curious Enquiries into His inscrutable
Essence and Being.
137. Having by gentle Degrees, as you find him
is capable of it, settled such an Idea of God in
OJ Spirits. i -j i i i TT-
his Mind, and taught him to pray to Him, and
praise Him as the Author of his Being, 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
40 occasion hereafter to be set down, and his reading the
Scripture-History, put him upon that Enquiry.
138] Bogey makes Cowards. An Anecdote. 117
138. But even then, and always whilst he is young,
be sure to preserve his tender Mind from all Go6Ktts
Impressions and Notions of Spirits and Goblins,
or any fearful Apprehensions in the Dark. This he will be
in danger of from the Indiscretion of Servants, whose usual 5
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
terrible and hurtful, which they have Reason to be afraid
of when alone, especially in the Dark. This must be care- 10
fully 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 Imagi
nations Ideas that follow them with Terror and Affright-
ment. Such Bug-bear Thoughts once got into the tender 15
Minds of Children, and being set on with a strong Impres
sion from the Dread that accompanies such Apprehensions,
sink deep, and fasten themselves 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 20
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 fear 25
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 and
frightful Images are, that take place in the Mind early, I 30
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 teaze 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 35
Shop he was 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 Mad-man could get up to him. 40
The Door was only latch d : and when he had the Latch in
u8 Trust in God. Truth. Good-nature. [ 138, 139
his Hand, he turn d 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
5 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
10 time without looking back, whatever Business he had in
his Head, or how little soever before he came thither he
thought of this Mad-man.
If Children were let alone, they would be no more
afraid in the Dark, than in broad Sun-shine : They would
T 5 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 Folly of any one
about them should do them this Harm, and make them
20 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
2 5 Protection, there is nothing in the dark to hurt them.
What is to be known more of God and good Spirits, is to
be deferr d till the time we shall hereafter mention ; and of
evil Spirits, twill be well if you can keep him from wrong
Fancies about them till he is ripe for that sort of Know-
30 ledge.
139. Having laid the Foundations of Virtue in a true
Truth Notion of a God, such as the Creed wisely
teaches, as far as his Age is capable, and by
accustoming him to pray to Him ; the next thing to be
35 taken care of, is to keep him exactly to speaking of Truth,
and by all the ways imaginable inclining him to
Goad- Nature. J > .
be gooa-natiir a. Let him know that twenty
Faults are sooner to be forgiven than the straining of
Trutk to cover any one by an Excuse. And to teach him
40 betimes to love and be good-natur d to others, is to lay
early the true Foundation of an honest Man ; all Injustice
i39, 1 4] Correct Bias. Wisdom v. Cunning. 119
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 Incli- 5
nation must be observed; which, as it inclines him more
than is convenient on one or t other side from the right
Path of Virtue, ought to have proper Remedies applied*
For few of Adam s Children are so happy, as not to be
born with some Byass in their natural Temper, which it is 10
the Business of Education either to take off, or counter
balance. But to enter into Particulars of this, would be
beyond the Design of this short Treatise of Education. I
intend not a Discourse of all the Virtues and Vices, how
each Virtue is to be attained, and every particular Vice by 15
its peculiar Remedies cured : Though I have mentioned
some of the most ordinary Faults, and the Ways to be used
in correcting them.
140. Wisdom I take in the popular Acceptation, for
a Man s managing his Business ably and with 20
foresight in this World. This is the Product of
a good natural Temper, Application of Mind, and Experi
ence together, and so above the reach of Children. The
greatest thing that in them can be done towards it, is to
hinder them, as much as may be, from being cunning ; 25
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 uglier ; Cunning is only the want of Understand
ing, which because it cannot compass its Ends by direct 30
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 it self: No body was ever so cunning as
to conceal their being so : And when they are once dis- 35
covered, 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 Busi
ness. To accustom a Child to have true Notions of things, 40
and not to be satisfied till he has them ; to raise his Mind
120 Good Breeding. [ 140 14
to great and worthy Thoughts, and to keep him at a Dis
tance from Falshood and Cunning, which has always a
broad Mixture of Falshood in it ; is the fittest Preparation
of a Child for Wisdom. The rest, which is to be learn d
5 from Time, Experience, and Observation, and an Acquaint
ance with Men, their Tempers and Designs, is not to be
expected in the Ignorance and Inadvertency of Childhood,
or the inconsiderate Heat and Unwariness of Youth : All
that can be done towards it, during this unripe Age, is, as I
10 have said, to accustom them to Truth and Sincerity; to a
submission to Reason ; and as much as may be, to Reflec
tion on their own Actions.
141. The next good Quality belonging to a Gentle
man, is good Breeding. There are two sorts
i 5 Breeding. ^ ^ ree ding: The one a sheepish Bashfulness,
and the other a mis-becoming 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.
20 142. The first part of this Rule must not be under
stood in Opposition to Humility, but to Assurance. We
ought not to think so well of our selves, as to stand upon
our own Value; and assume to our selves a Preference before
others, because of any Advantage we may imagine we have
25 over them; but modestly to take what is offered, when it is
our due. But yet we ought to think so well of our selves, 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
30 which is due to every one s Rank and Quality. There is
often in People, especially Children, a clownish Shame-
facedness 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
35 able to do any thing, or at least not to do it with that
Freedom and Gracefulness which pleases, and makes them
be 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
40 Strangers and Persons of Quality without being in their
Company, nothing can cure this Part of Ill-breeding but
142, 143] Good and Ill-breeding analysed. 121
Change and Variety of Company, and that of Persons
above us.
143. 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 5
little care of pleasing or shewing Respect to those we have to
do with. To avoid this these two things are requisite :
First, a Disposition of the Mind not to offend others ; and
Secondly, the most acceptable and agreeable way of ex
pressing that Disposition. From the one Men are called 10
civil ; from the other well-fashioned. The latter of these is
that Decency and Gracefulness 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, 15
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 learn d chiefly
from Observation, and the Carriage of those who are allow d 20
to be 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 shew in
his Carriage any Contempt, Disrespect, or Neglect of them;
but to express, according to the Fashion and Way of that 25
Country, a Respect and Value for them according to their
Rank and Condition. It is a Disposition of the Mind that
shews it self in the Carriage, whereby a Man avoids making
any one uneasy in Conversation.
I shall take notice of four Qualities, that are most 30
directly opposite to this first and most taking of all the social
Vertues. And from some one of these four it is, that Incivility
commonly has its Rise. I shall set them down, that Chil
dren may be preserv d or recover d from their ill Influence.
i. The first is, a natural Roughness, which makes a 35
Man uncomplaisant to others, so that he has
no Deference for their Inclinations, Tempers, or
Conditions. Tis the sure Badge of a Clown, not to mind
what pleases or displeases those he is with ; and yet one may
of en find a Man in fashionable Clothes give an unbounded 40
swing to his own Humour, and suffer it to justle or over-run any
122 Ill-breeding analysed. Rallying. [ 143
one that stands in its way, with a perfect Indifferency how
they take it. This is a Brutality that every one sees and
abhors, and no body can be easy with: And therefore this
finds no place in any one who would be thought to have the
5 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 Tempers, that they may bend to a Com
pliance, and accommodate themselves to those they have to
do with.
10 2. Contempt, or want of due Respect, discovered either
in Looks, Words, or Gesture : This, from whom
soever it comes, brings always Uneasiness with
it. For no body can contentedly bear being slighted.
3. Censoriousness, and finding fault with others, has a
15 direct Opposition to Civility. Men, whatever
Censorious- j.j ie y are or are no j. guilty of, would not have
their Faults display d and set in open View
and broad Day-light, before their own or other People s
Eyes. Blemishes affixed to any one always carry Shame
20 with them : And the Discovery, or even bare Imputation
of any Defect is not born without some Uneasiness.
Raillery is the most refined way of exposing the
Faults of others: But, because it is usually
done with Wit and good Language, and gives Entertainment
25 to the Company, People are led into a Mistake, that where
it keeps within fair Bounds there is no Incivility in it. And
so the Pleasantry of this sort of Conversation often intro
duces it amongst People of the better Rank; and such
Talkers are favourably heard and generally applauded by
30 the Laughter of the By-standers on their side. But they
ought to consider, that the Entertainment 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
35 Matter of Commendation. For then the pleasant Images
and Representations which make the Raillery carrying
Praise as well as Sport with them, the rallied Person also
finds his Account, and takes Part in the Diversion. But
because the right Management of so nice and ticklish a
40 Business, wherein a little Slip may spoil all, is not every
body s Talent, I think those who would secure themselves
143] Contradiction. Captiousness. 123
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
are made uneasy by it, the lasting Memory of having been
piquantly, tho wittily, taunted for some thing censurable in 5
them.
Besides Raillery, Contradiction is a sort of Censorious-
ness wherein Ill-breeding often shews it self.
/-> i j .1 111 Contradiction.
Complaisance does not require that we should
always admit all the Reasonings or Relations that the 10
Company is entertain d with, no, nor silently to 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 of us, and Civility does not
oppose, if it be done with due Caution and Care of Circum- 1 5
stances. 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 20
Censuring, that no body can avoid thinking himself injur d
by it. All Opposition to what another Man has said, is so
apt to be suspected of Censoriousness, and is so seldom
received without some sort of Humiliation, that it ought to
be made in the gentlest manner, and softest Words can be 25
found, and such as with the whole Deportment 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. 30
4. Captiousness is another Fault opposite to Civility ;
not only because it often produces misbecoming Ca ^ ousnes ,
and provoking Expressions and Carriage; but
because it is a tacit Accusation and Reproach of some
Incivility taken notice of in those whom we are angry with. 35
Such a Suspicion or Intimation cannot be borne by any
one without Uneasiness. Besides, one angry body dis
composes the whole Company, and the Harmony ceases
upon any such Jarring.
The Happiness that all Men so steadily pursue consist- 40
ing in Pleasure, it is easy to see why the Civil are more
1^4 Over-civil. [ 143 145
acceptable than the Useful. The Ability, Sincerity, and
good Intention of a Man of Weight and Worth, or a real
Friend, seldom atones for the Uneasiness that is produced
by his grave and solid Representations. Power and Riches,
5 nay Virtue itself, are valued only as conducing to our Happi
ness. And therefore he recommends himself ill to another as
.liming at his Happiness, 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
10 debasing himself to low and servile Flattery, has found the
true Art of living in the World, and being both welcome and
valued every where. Civility therefore is what in the first
place should with great care be made habitual to Children
and young People.
15 144. There is another Fault in good Manners, and
that is Excess of Ceremony, and an obstinate
persisting 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
20 least looks like a Contest 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
25 ever guilty of it, or are suspected to incline that way, they
should be told of it, and warned of this mistaken Civility.
The thing they should endeavour and aim at in Conver
sation, should be to shew Respect, Esteem, and Good-will,
by paying to every one that common Ceremony and Regard
30 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.
35 145. Though the managing ourselves well in this
Part of our Behaviour has the Name of Good-breeding, as
if peculiarly the Effect 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
40 modishly. Teach them Humility, and to be good-natur d,
if you can, and this sort of Manners will not be wanting ;
145] Children s Politeness simple. 125
Civility being in truth nothing but a Care not to shew any
Slighting or Contempt of any one in Conversation. What
are the most allow d and esteem d Ways of expressing this,
we have above observ d. It is as peculiar and different,
in several Countries of the World, as their Languages ; and 5
therefore, if it be rightly considered, Rules and Discourses
made to Children about it, are as useless and impertinent,
as it would be now and then to give a Rule or two of
the Spanish Tongue to one that converses only with Eng
lishmen. Be as busy as you please with Discourses of 10
Civility to your Son, such as is his Company, such will be
his Manners. A Plough-man 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 1 5
than those he uses to converse with : 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 freely, so Children do nothing out of Obstinacy, 20
Pride, and Ill-nature, tis 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, according to the Fashions they have been used to : 25
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 30
is allow d to that Age, and becomes them as well as Com
pliments 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 over-look d, and left to Time, a Tutor, and
Conversation to cure. And therefore I think it not worth 35
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 Carrriage, there he must be
persuaded or shamed out of it.
Though Children, when little, should not be much 40
perplexed with Rules and ceremonious parts of Breeding,
i :?6 Rudeness of Interrupting. [ 145
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
Interruption. . . * . .
speaking ; and to stop them with some Contra-
5 diction. Whether the Custom of Disputing, and the Repu
tation of Parts and Learning usually given to it as if it
were the only Standard and Evidence of Knowledge, make
young Men so forward to watch Occasions to correct others
in their Discourse, and not to slip any Opportunity of
10 shewing their Talents : So it is, that I have found Scholars
most blamed in this Point. There cannot be a greater
Rudeness, than to interrupt another in the Current of his
Discourse ; for if there be not impertinent Folly in answer
ing a Man before we know what he will say, yet it is a
15 plain Declaration, that we are weary to hear him talk
any longer, and have a Dis-esteem of what he says ; which
we judging not fit to entertain the Company, desire them
to give Audience to us, who have something to produce
worth their Attention. This shews a very great Disrespect,
20 and cannot but be offensive : And yet this is what almost
all Interruption constantly carries 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
25 intrude our selves for Teachers, and take upon us either
to set another right in his Story, or shew the Mistakes
of his Judgment.
I do not say this, that I think there should be no
Difference of Opinions in Conversation, nor Opposition
30 in Men s Discourses : This would be to take away the
greatest Advantage of Society, and the Improvements are
to be made by ingenious Company ; where the Light is
to be got from the opposite Arguings of Men of Parts,
shewing the different Sides of Things and their various
35 Aspects and Probabilities, would be quite lost, if every one
were obliged to assent to, and say after the first Speaker.
Tis 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 interpose their
40 Opinions, unless asked, or when others have done, and
are silent; and then only by way of Enquiry, not Instruc-
145] Modest carriage. Rudeness in high life. 127
tion. The positive asserting, and the magisterial Air should
be avoided ; and when a general Pause of the whole Com
pany affords an Opportunity-, they may modestly put in
their Question as Learners.
This becoming Decency will not cloud their Parts, nor 5
weaken the Strength of their Reason ; but bespeak the
more favourable Attention, and give what they say the
greater Advantage. An ill Argument, or ordinary Obser
vation, thus introduc d, with some civil Preface of Defe
rence and Respect to the Opinions of others, will procure 10
them more Credit and Esteem, than the sharpest Wit, or
profoundest Science, with a rough, insolent, or noisy Man
agement, which always shocks the Hearers, leaves an ill
Opinion of the Man, though he get the better of it in the
Argument. 1 5
This therefore should be carefully watched in young
People, stopp d in the Beginning, and the contrary Habit
introduced in all their Conversation. And the rather,
because Forwardness to talk, frequent Interruptions in
arguing, and loud Wrangling, are too often observable 20
amongst grown People, even of Rank, amongst us. The
Indians, whom we call barbarous, observe much more
Decency and Civility in their Discourses and Conversation,
giving one another a fair silent Hearing till they have quite
done ; and then answering them calmly, and without Noise 25
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 reform d this antient Piece of Barbarity amongst
us. Was it not, think you, an entertaining Spectacle, to
see two Ladies of Quality accidentally seated on the op- 30
posite Sides of a Room, set round with Company, fall into
a Dispute, and grow so eager in it, that in the
Heat of the 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 35
for a good while managed the 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 O_uality, who
was present at the Combat, and did not omit to reflect 4
upon the Indecencies that Warmth in Dispute often runs
128 Influence of Companions. Learning. [145 147
People into ; which, since Custom makes too frequent,
Education should take the more care of. There is no
body but condemns this in others, though they overlook
it in themselves ; and many who are sensible of it in them-
5 selves, and resolve against it, cannot yet get rid of an ill
Custom, which Neglect in their Education has suffer d to
settle into an Habit.
146. What has been above said concerning Company,
would perhaps, if it were well reflected on.
Company. . i T\
10 give us a larger Prospect, and let us see how
much farther its Influence reaches. Tis not the Modes of
Civility alone, that are imprinted by Conversation: The
Tincture of Company sinks deeper that the Out-side; and
possibly, if a true Estimate were made of the Morality and
15 Religions of the World, we should find that the far greater
part of Mankind received even those Opinions and Cere
monies they would die for, rather from the Fashions of their
Countries, and the constant Practice of those about them,
than from any Conviction of their Reasons. I mention
20 this only to let you see of what Moment I think Company 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.
25 147. You will wonder, perhaps, that I put Learning
Leamin ^ ast) es P ec i a l v ^ I tell you I think it the least
Part. This may seem strange in the Mouth of
a bookish Man ; and this making usually the chief, if not
only bustle and stir about Children, this being almost that
30 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
35 Children still live in fear of the School-master s Rod, which
they look on as the only Instrument of Education; as a
Language or two to be its whole Business. How else is it
possible that a Child should be chain d to the Oar seven,
eight, or ten of the best Years of his Life, to get a Language
40 or two, which, I think, might be had at a great deal cheaper
rate of Pains and Time, and be learn d almost in playing ?
147) 148] Learning needful but subordinate. 129
Forgive me therefore if I say, I cannot with Patience
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 Gantlet through the several Classes, ad
capiendum ingenii ctiltum. What then ? say you, would you 5
not have him write and read? Shall he be more ignorant
than the Clerk of our Parish, who takes Hopkins and
Stern/told 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. Reading and Writing and 10
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 wise Man
infinitely before a great Scholar. Not but that I think
Learning a great Help to both in well-dispos d Minds; but 15
yet it must be confess d also, that in others not so dispos d,
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 Logick only in 20
your Thoughts. Learning must be had, but in the second
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 25
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 very easy rate, by Methods
that may be thought on. 30
148. When he can talk, tis time he should begin to
learn to read. But as to this, give me leave
, , i J Reading.
here to inculcate again, what is very apt to
be forgotten, viz. That great care is to be taken, that it be
never made as a Business to him, nor he look on it as a 35
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 enjoin d us. I have
always had a Fancy that Learning might be made a Play and
Recreation to Children; and that they might be brought to 4
desire to be taught, if it were proposed to them as a thing of
130 No Compulsion: make Learning Sport. [148,9
Honour, Credit, Delight, and Recreation, or as a Reward
for doing something else; and if they were never chid or
corrected for the neglect of it. That which confirms me in
this Opinion, is, that amongst the Portuguese, tis so much a
5 Fashion and Emulation amongst their Children, to learn
to read and write, that they cannot hinder them from it:
They will learn it one from another, and are as intent on it,
as if it were forbidden them. I remember that being at a
Friend s House, whose younger Son, a Child in Coats, was
10 not easily brought \& his Book (being taught to read <& home
by his Mother) I advised to try another Way, than re
quiring it of him as his Duty ; we therefore, in a Discourse
on purpose amongst our selves, in his Hearing, but without
taking any notice of him, declared, That it was the Privilege
15 and Advantage of Heirs and elder Brothers, to be Scholars;
that this made them fine Gentlemen, and beloved by every
Body: And that for younger Brothers, twas 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
20 Bumpkins and Clowns, if they pleased. This so wrought
upon the Child, that afterwards 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 Chil-
25 dren; and when their Tempers are found, some Thoughts
be instilPd 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
solthem. There may be Dice and Play-things, with the Letters
Ion them to teach Children the Alphabet by playing; and
jtwenty other Ways may be found, suitable to their particular
(Tempers, to make this kind of Learning a Sport to them. \
149. Thus Children may be cozen d into a Knowledge
35 of the Letters; be taught to read, without perceiving it to be
any thing but a Sport, and play themselves into that which
others are whipp d for. Children 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
40 being forced and tied down to their Books in an Age at
enmity with all such Restraint, has, I doubt not, been the
149 I 5 r J Games for teaching Reading. 131
Reason, why a great many have hated Books and Learning
all their Lives after. Tis like a Surfeit, that leaves an
Aversion behind not to be removed.
150. I have therefore thought, that if Play-things
were fitted to this Purpose, as they are usually to none, 5
Contrivances might be made to teach Children to read, whilst
they thought they were only playing. For Example, what if
an Ivory-Ball were made like that of the Royal-oak Lottery,
with thirty two Sides, or one rather of twenty four or twenty
five Sides; and upon several of those Sides pasted on an A, 10
upon several others B, on others C, and on others DPI
would have you begin with but these four Letters, or
perhaps only two at first; and when he is perfect in them,
then add another; and so on till each Side having one
Letter, there be on it the whole Alphabet. This I would 15
have others 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 Busi
ness; for I would not have him understand tis any thing 20
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 sometimes in
favour admitted to, when the Play is done the Ball
should be laid up safe out of his Reach, that so it may 25
not, by his having it in his keeping at any time, grow
stale to him.
151. 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 30
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 caus d him. Children, if you observe
them, take abundance of Pains to learn several Games, 35
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 Learning 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 40
a Die, and the remaining eighteen Consonants on the Sides
92
132 Games for Reading. [ 151 155
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 ; whereby his eldest Son, yet in Coats, has
played himself into spelling, with great Eagerness, and with-
5 out once having been chid for it or forced to it.
152. 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 Contrivance to
10 make them employ all that Industry about something that
might be more useful to them ; and methinks tis 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
15 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
little Apes would be to follow. I imagine some wise
Portuguese heretofore began this Fashion amongst the Chil-
20 dren of his Country, where I have been told, as I said, it is
impossible to hinder the Children from learning to read and
write : And in some Parts of France they teach one another
to sing and dance from the Cradle.
153. The Letters pasted upon the Sides of the Dice,
25 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
30 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.
154. Besides these, twenty other Plays might be
invented depending on Letters, which those who like this
35 Way, may easily contrive and get made to this Use if they
will. But the four Dice above-mention d I think so easy
and useful, that it will be hard to find any better, and there
will be scarce need of any other.
155. Thus much for learning to read, which let him
40 never be driven to, nor chid for ; cheat him into it if you
can, but make it not a Business for him. J Tis better it be
T 55> I 5 6 ] Amusing Books with Pictures. 133
a Year later before he can read, than that he should this
Way get an Aversion to Learning. If you have any Con
tests with him, let it be in Matters of Moment, of Truth,
and good Nature; but lay no Task on him about ABC.
Use your Skill to make his Will supple and pliant to 5
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 indifferent Matters, nor rebuke him 10
for every little Fault, or perhaps some that to others would
seem great ones ; but of this I have said enough already.
156. When by these gentle Ways he begins to read,
some easy pleasant Book, suited to his Capacity, should be
put into his Hands, wherein the Entertainment that he 15
finds might draw him on, and reward his Pains in Reading,
and yet not such as should fill his Head with perfectly use
less Trumpery, or lay the Principles of Vice and Folly.
To this Purpose, I think ssop s fables the best, which
being Stories apt to delight and entertain a Child, may yet 20
afford useful Reflections 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 sEsop has Pictures in it, it will entertain
him much the better, and encourage him to read, when it 25
carries the Increase of Knowledge with it : For such visible
Objects 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 1 30
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 Enquiry and Know
ledge. Reynard the Fox is another Book I think may be 35
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, besides other Advantages, add
Encouragement and Delight to his Reading, when he finds
there is some Use and Pleasure in it. These Baits seem 40
wholly neglected in the ordinary Method; and tis usually
134 Learning by Heart. The Bible. [ 156 158
long before Learners find any Use or Pleasure in reading,
which may tempt them to it, and so take Books only for
fashionable Amusements, or impertinent Troubles, good for
nothing.
5 157. The Lord s Prayer, the Creeds, and Ten Com
mandments, tis necessary he should learn perfectly by
heart ; but, I think, not by reading them himself in his
Primer, but by somebody s repeating them to him, even
before he can read. But learning by heart, and learning to
10 read, should not I think be mix d, and so one made to
clog the other. But his learning to read should be made as
little Trouble or Business to him as might be.
What other Books there are in English of the Kind of
those above-mentioned, fit to engage the Liking of Children,
15 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,
and not any Pleasure of the Employment to invite them to
learn, this Sort of useful Books, amongst the Number of
20 silly ones that are of all Sorts, have yet had the Fate to be
neglected ; and nothing that I know has been considered
of this Kind out of the ordinary Road of the Horn-book,
Primer, Psalter, Testament, and Bible.
158. As for the Bible, which Children are usually
25 employ d in to exercise and improve their Talent in reading,
I think the promiscuous reading of it through by Chapters
as they lie in Order, is so far from being of any Advantage
to Children, either for the perfecting their Reading, or prin-
cipling their Religion, that perhaps a worse could not be
30 found. For what Pleasure or Encouragement can it be to
a Child to exercise himself in reading those Parts of a Book
where he understands nothing? And how little are the
Law of Moses, the Song of Solomon, the Prophecies in the
Old, and the Epistles and Apocalypse in the New Testa-
35 ment, suited to a Child s Capacity? And though the
History of the Evangelists and the Acts have something
easier, yet, taken all together, it is very disproportional to
the Understanding of Childhood. I grant that the Prin
ciples of Religion are to be drawn from thence, and in the
40 Words of the Scripture ; yet none should be propos d to a
Child, but such as are suited to a Child s Capacity and
158, 159] Learning by heart from the Bible. 135
Notions. But tis 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 5
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 Lifetime.
159. And now I am by chance fallen on this Subject, 10
give me leave to say, that there are some Parts of the Scrip
ture 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 Goliah, of David
and Jonathan, &c. and others that he should be made to 15
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 Instruc
tion together; and so often read till they are throughly 20
fixed in the Memory ; and then afterwards, as he grows ripe
for them, may in their Turns on fit Occasions be incul
cated as the standing and sacred Rules of his Life and
Actions. But the Reading of the whole Scripture indif
ferently, is what I think very inconvenient for Children, 25
till after having been made acquainted with the plainest
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 prepossess d by 30
Systems and Analogies are apt in this Case to make use of
and force upon them. Dr. Worthington, to avoid this, has
made a Catechism, 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 35
against as not fit for his Child to learn. Of this, as soon
as he can say the Lord s Prayer, Creed, the ten Command
ments, by Heart, it may be fit for him to learn a Question
every Day, or every Week, as his Understanding is able to
receive and his Memory to retain them. And when he has 40
this Catechism perfectly by Heart, so as readily and roundly
136 Writing. Drawing. [ 159 161
to answer to any Question in the whole Book, it may be
convenient to lodge in his Mind the remaining moral Rules
scatter d up and down in the Bible, as the best Exercise of
his Memory, and that which may be always a Rule to him,
5 ready at Hand, in the whole Conduct of his Life.
1 60. 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
10 should be suffered to put it to Paper: For not only Chil
dren 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
15 Italian Way of holding the Pen between the Thumb and
the Fore-finger alone, may be best; but in this you may
consult some good Writing-master, or any other Person
who writes well and quick. When he has learn d to hold
his Pen right, in the next Place he should learn how to
20 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 best : But you must
remember to have them a pretty deal bigger than he should
25 ordinarily write ; for every one naturally comes by Degrees
to write a less Hand than he at first was taught, but never
a bigger. Such a Plate being graved, let several Sheets of
good Writing-paper be printed off with red Ink, which he
has nothing to do but go over with a good Pen fill d with
30 black Ink, which will quickly bring his Hand to the For
mation of those Characters, being at first shewed 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.
35 1 6 1. When he can write well and quick, I think it
may be convenient not only to continue the
Drawing. J . . . /... , ,
Exercise of his Hand in Writing, but also to
improve the Use of it farther in Drawing ; a Thing very
useful to a Gentleman in several Occasions ; but especially
40 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
i6i, 162] How much Drawing. Short-hand. 137
in Writing would not be able to represent and make intelli
gible. How many Buildings may a Man see, how many
Machines and Habits meet with, the Ideas whereof would
be easily retain d and communicated by a little Skill in
Drawing ; which being committed to Words, are in danger 5
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 Moment. But so 10
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 necessary, it is 15
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 not absolutely necessary, the Rule holds, Nil
invita Minerva.
H i. Short-hand, an Art, as I have been told, known 20
only in England, may perhaps be thought worth ,
iU 1 v- . i- r T^ ,. i i ^ Short-hand.
the learning, both for Dispatch 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 learn d any Sort of Character, may easily vary it 25
to his own private Use or Fancy, and with more Contrac
tion suit it to the Business he would employ it in. Mr.
RicH*,, the best contriv d 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 30
compendious Way of Writing, there will be no need hastily
to look out a Master; it will 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 35
practise it till they write perfectly well, and have throughly
fixed the Habit of doing so.
162. As soon as he can speak English, tis time for
him to learn some other Language. This no F /
body doubts of, when French is propos d. And 40
the Reason is, because People are accustomed to the right
138 French. Latin. [ 162 164
Way of teaching that Language, which is by talking it into
Children in constant Conversation, and not by grammatical
Rules. The Latin Tongue would easily be taught the
same Way, if his Tutor, being constantly with him, would
5 talk nothing else to him, and make him answer still in the
same Language. 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
accustomed to a due Formation of those Sounds, and he
10 get the Habit of pronouncing French well, which is the
harder to be done the longer it is delay d.
163. 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 tis a wonder
15 Parents, when they have had the Experiment in French,
should not think ought to be learned the same way, 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
20 English, 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.
164. Latin I look upon as absolutely necessary to a
Gentleman ; and indeed Custom, which prevails over every
25 thing, has made it so much a Part of Education, that even
those Children are whipp d 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
30 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
35 which tis 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
40 all the while the writing a good Hand and casting Ac
counts, which are of great Advantage in all Conditions of
164 166] Latin without Grammar. 139
Life, and to most Trades indispensably necessary? But
though these Qualifications, requisite to Trade and Com
merce and the Business of the World, are seldom or never
to be had at Grammar-Schools, yet thither not only Gentle
men send their younger Sons, intended for Trades, but 5
even Tradesmen and Farmers fail not to send their Chil
dren, 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, 10
and has, to those who 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.
165. But how necessary soever Latin be to some, 15
and is thought to be to others to whom it is of no manner
of Use and 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 pre- 20
vailed with some intelligent Persons to quit the ordinary
Road, not without Success, though the Method made use of
was not exactly what 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 25
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 without
Master, Rule, or Grammar; and so might he Latin too, as
Tully did, if he had some body always to talk to him in 30
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 overseen this Way for their Sons, and 35
thought them more dull or incapable than their Daughters.
1 66. If therefore a Man could be got, who himself
speaking good Latin, would always be about your Son, talk
constantly to him, and suffer him to speak or read nothing
else, this would be the true and genuine Way, and that Jjo
which I would propose, not only as the easiest and best,
140 Begin with Knowledge of Things. [ 166, 167
1 wherein a Child might, without Pains or Chiding, get a
Language, which others are wont to be whipt for at School
six or seven Years together: But also as that, wherein at
the same Time he might have his Mind and Manners
5 formed, and he be instructed to boot in several Sciences,
such as are a good Part of Geography, Astronomy, Chrono
logy, 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
10 would take the true Way, our Knowledge should begin, and
in those Things be laid the Foundation; and not in the
abstract Notions of Logick and Metaphysicks, which are
fitter to amuse than inform the Understanding in its first
setting out towards Knowledge. When young Men have
15 had their Heads employ d a while in those abstract Specu
lations without finding the Success and Improvement, or
that Use of them, which they expected, they are apt to
have mean Thoughts either of Learning or themselves ;
they are tempted to quit their Studies, and throw away
20 their Books as containing nothing but hard Words and
empty Sounds ; or else, to conclude, that if there be any
real Knowledge in them, they themselves have not Under
standings capable of it. That this is so, perhaps I could
assure you upon my own Experience. Amongst other
25 Things to be learned by a young Gentleman in this Method,
whilst others of his Age are wholly taken up with Latin
and Languages, I may also set down Geometry for one ;
having known a young Gentleman, bred something after
this Way, able to demonstrate several Propositions in
30 Euclid before he was thirteen.
167. 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 ; J:he
/next best is to have him taught as near this Way as may be,
357 which is by taking some easy and pleasant Book, such as
I ^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 every Day over and over again, till he perfectly under-
Jo stands the Latin ; and then go on to another Fable, till he
be also perfect in that, not omitting what he is already
167] Art of Teaching. 141
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 Exercise of his Hand will
also advance him to Latin. This being a more imperfect
Way than by talking Latin unto him ; the Formation of the 5
Verbs first, and afterwards the Declensions of the Nouns
and Pronouns perfectly learned by Heart, may facilitate his
Acquaintance with the Genius and Manner of the Latin
Tongue, which varies the Signification of Verbs and Nouns,
not as the Modern Languages do by Particles prefix d, but 10
by changing the last Syllables. More than this of Gram
mar, I think he need not have, till he can read himself
Sanctii Minerva, with Scioppius and Perizonius s Notes.
In teaching of Children, this too, I think, is to be
observed, that in most Cases where they stick, they are 15
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 Sentence they
are to construe ; or demanding what aufero signifies, to
lead them to the Knowledge what abstulere signifies, &c. 20
when they cannot readily tell. This wastes Time only in
disturbing them ; for whilst they are learning, and apply
themselves with Attention, they are to be kept in good
Humour, and every Thing made easy to them, and as plea
sant as possible. Therefore whereever they are at a Stand, 25
and are willing to go forwards, help them presently over the
Difficulty, without any Rebuke or Chiding, remembring,
that where harsher Ways are taken, they are the Effect only
of Pride and Peevishness in the Teacher, who expects Chil
dren should instantly be Masters of as much as he knows ; 30
whereas he should rather consider, that his Business is to
settle in them Habits, not angrily 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 35
deny but this Method may sometimes be varied, and
Difficulties proposed on purpose to excite Industry, and
accustom the Mind to employ its own Strength and Saga
city in Reasoning. But yet, I guess, this is not to be done
to Children, whilst very young, nor at their Entrance upon 40
any Sort of Knowledge : Then every Thing of itself is
142 Children s Attention. [ 167
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
5 Memory, are then spoken in greatest Perfection, when all
Rules of Grammar are utterly forgotten. I grant the Gram
mar of a Language is sometimes very carefully to be studied,
but it is not to be studied but by a grown Man, when he
applies himself to the understanding of any Language criti-
10 cally, which is seldom the Business of any but professed
Scholars. This I think will be agreed to, that if a Gentle
man 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.
15 There is yet a further Reason, why Masters and Teach
ers should raise no Difficulties to their 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
20 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
25 would instill into them, that it may be received with Atten
tion and Application, without which 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
30 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 Contradiction 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 Quick-
35 ness or Instability 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
40 that requires their Application, should endeavour to make
what he proposes as grateful and agreeable as possible ; at
167] Attention lost by Harshness. 143
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, tis no wonder their
Thoughts should be perpetually shifting from what disgusts
them ; and seek better Entertainment in more pleasing 5
Objects, after which they will unavoidably be gadding.
Tis, I know, the usual Method of Tutors, to endeavour
to procure Attention in their Scholars, and to fix their
Minds to the Business in Hand, by Rebukes and Correc
tions, if they find them ever so little wandering. But such 10
Treatment is sure to produce the quite contrary Effect.
Passionate Words or Blows from the Tutor fill the Child s
Mind with Terror and Affrightment, which immediately
takes it wholly up, and leaves no Room for other Impres
sions. I believe there is no body that reads this, but may 15
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 20
Confusion, and in that State was no longer capable of
Attention to any thing else.
Tis 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 25
when they have got an Ascendant over them, they should
use it with great Moderation, and not make themselves
such Scare-crows that their Scholars should always tremble
in their Sight. Such an Austerity may make their Govern
ment easy to themselves, but of very little use to their 30
Pupils. Tis impossible Children should learn any thing
whilst their Thoughts are possessed and disturbed with any
Passion, especially Fear, which makes the strongest Impres
sion on their yet tender and weak Spirits. Keep the Mind
in an easy calm Temper, when you would have it receive 35
your Instructions or any Increase of Knowledge. Tis as
impossible to draw fair and regular Characters on a trem
bling 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 to 40
advance as fast as the Learner s Abilities will carry him ;
144 Deal gently with Children. |" 167
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 learnt,
5 that he can do something which he could not do before ;
something, which gives him some Power and real Advan
tage 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
10 that he loves him and designs nothing but his Good, the
only way to beget Love in the Child, which will make him
hearken to his Lessons, and relish what he teaches him.
Nothing but Obstinacy should meet with any Imperious-
ness or rough Usage. All other Faults should be corrected
1 5 with a gentle Hand ; and kind engaging Words will work
better and more effectually upon a willing Mind, and even
prevent a good deal of that Perverseness which rough and
imperious Usage often produces in well disposed and gene
rous Minds. Tis true, Obstinacy and wilful Neglects must
20 be mastered, even though it cost Blows to do it : But I am
apt to think Perverseness in the Pupils is often the Effect of
Frowardness in the Tutor ; and that most Children would
seldom have deserved Blows, if needless and misapplied
Roughness had not taught them Ill-nature, and given them
25 an Aversion for their Teacher and all that comes from him.
Inadvertency, Forgetfulness, Unsteadiness, and Wand-
ring of Thought, are the natural Faults of Childhood ; and
therefore, where they are not observed to be wilful, are to
be mention d softly, and gain d upon by Time. If every
30 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 Uneasiness to his
Pupils. Which one thing is enough to hinder their profiting
by his Lessons, and to defeat all his Methods of Instruc-
35 tion -
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 Dictates. This
40 will bring them with Satisfaction to their Tutor ; make them
hearken to him, as to one who is their Friend, that cherishes
167,168] Language-learning without Grammar. 145
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 it self those Impres
sions, which, if not taken and retained, all that they and 5
their Teachers do together is lost Labour; there is much
Uneasiness and little Learning.
1 68. 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 10
little farther to the reading of some other easy Z0//#-Book,
such as Justin or Eutropius ; and to make the Reading and
Understanding of it the less tedious and difficult 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 15
rote, fright any one. This, when well consider d, 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 20
of, his Tongue of Course, without Thought of Rule or
Grammar, falls into the proper Expression and Idiom of
that Language, does not speak it well, nor is Master of it.
And I would fai-n have any one name to me that Tongue,
that any one can learn, or speak as he should do, by the 25
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, 30
that are allowed to speak properly, which in other Words is
only to speak by rote.
It will possibly be asked here, is Grammar then of no
Use ? and have those who have taken so much Pains in
reducing several Languages to Rules and Observations ; 35
who have writ so much about Declensions and Conjugations,
about Concords 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 40
tormented about it, to whom it does not at all belong; I
o. 10
146 Grammar, by whom needed. [ 168
mean Children, at the Age wherein they are usually per
plexed with it in Grammar-Schools.
There is nothing more evident, than that Languages
learnt by rote serve well enough for the common Affairs of
5 Life and ordinary Commerce. Nay, Persons of Quality of
the softer Sex, and such of them as have spent their Time
in well-bred Company, shew us, that this plain natural Way,
without the least Study or Knowledge of Grammar, can
carry them to a great Degree of Elegancy and Politeness
10 in their Language: And there are Ladies who, without
knowing what Tenses and Participles, Adverbs and Preposi
tions are, speak as properly and as correctly (they might
take it for an ill Compliment if I said as any Country
School-Master) as most Gentlemen who have been bred up
15 in the ordinary Methods of Grammar-Schools. Grammar
therefore we see may be spared in some Cases. The Ques
tion then will be, To whom should it be taught, and when ?
To this I answer ;
1. Men learn Languages for the ordinary Intercourse
20 of Society and Communication of Thoughts in common
Life, without any farther Design in the Use of them. And
for this Purpose, the original Way of learning a Language
by Conversation not only serves well enough, but is to be
preferred as the most expedite, proper and natural. There-
25 fore, to this Use of Language one may answer, That Gram
mar is not necessary. This so many of my Readers must
be forced to allow, as understand what I here say, and who
conversing with others, understand them without having
ever been taught the Grammar of the English Tongue.
30 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
35 with their Pens ; and to these it is convenient, if not neces
sary, that they should speak properly and correctly, whereby
they may let their Thoughts into other Men s Minds the
more easily, and with the greater Impression. Upon this
account it is, that any sort of Speaking, so as will make
40 him be understood, is not thought enough for a Gentleman.
He ought to study Grammar amongst the other Helps of
168] Grammar of the Mother Tongue. 147
speaking well, but it must be the Grammar 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
Solecisms and offensive Irregularities. And to this Purpose 5
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 perfecting their
Stiles. Whether all Gentlemen should not do this, I leave
to be considered, since the want of Propriety and gram- 10
matical Exactness is thought very misbecoming one of that
Rank, and usually draws on one guilty of such Faults the
Censure of having had a lower Breeding and worse Com
pany than suits with his Quality. If this be so, (as I
suppose it is) it will be Matter of Wonder why young 15
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 20
proposed 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, judg d of by their handsome
or awkward way of expressing themselves in it. Whereas
the Languages whose Grammars they have been so much 25
employed in, are such as probably they shall scarce ever
speak or write ; or if, upon Occasion, this should happen,
they should be excused for the Mistakes and Faults they
make in it. Would not a Chinese who took notice of this
way of Breeding, be apt to imagine that all our young 30
Gentlemen were designed 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 themselves
to two or three foreign, dead, and (which amongst us are 35
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 Lan
guage with this View, and would be critically exact in it,
ought carefully to study the Grammar of it. I would not 4
be mistaken here, as if this were to undervalue Greek and
10 2
148 Grammar, when to be taught. [ 168
Latin. I grant these are Languages of great Use and
Excellency, and a Man can have no place among the
Learned in this Part of the World, who is a Stranger to
them. But the Knowledge a Gentleman would ordinarily
5 draw for his Use out of the Roman and Greek Writers, I
think he may attain without studying the Grammars of
those Tongues, and by bare reading, may come to under
stand them sufficiently for all his Purposes. How much
farther he shall at any time be concerned to look into the
10 Grammar and critical Niceties of either of these Tongues,
he himself will be able to determine when he comes to pro
pose to himself the Study of any thing that shall require it.
Which brings me to the other Part of the Enquiry, viz.
15 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
20 evident from the Practice of the wise and learned Nations
amongst the Antients. They made it a Part of Education to
cultivate their own, not foreign Tongues. The Greeks
counted all other Nations barbarous, and had a Contempt
for their Languages. And tho the Greek Learning grew in
25 Credit amongst the Romans, towards the End of their Com
monwealth, 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.
50 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 Rhetorick; when
it is thought Time to put any one upon the Care of polish
ing his Tongue, and of speaking better than the Illiterate,
35 then is the Time for him to be instructed 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 Ele
gancy, there is little Use of the one to him that has no
i68 lyoJWordsandThings. NoLatinThemes. 149
Need of the other ; where Rhetorick is not necessary,
Grammar may be 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 Critick, or make Speeches and
write Dispatches in it. When any one finds in himself a 5
Necessity or Disposition 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 grammatical 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 i o
alone, as I have said, will attain this End, without charging
the Mind with the multiplied Rules and Intricacies of
Grammar.
169. For the Exercise of his Writing, let him some
times translate Latin into English : But the learning of 1 5
Latin being nothing but the learning of Words, a very un
pleasant 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 20
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 especially
Geography, Astronomy, and Anatomy. But whatever you
are teaching him, have a care still that you do not clog him 25
with too much at once; or make any thing his Business but
downright Virtue, or reprove him for any thing but Vice, or
some apparent Tendency to it.
170. But if after all his Fate be to go to School to
get the Latin Tongue, twill be in vain to talk to you 30
concerning the Method I think best to be observ d 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 and Declamations, and least of all, Verses 35
of any Kind. You may insist on it, if it will do any good,
that you have no Design to make him either a Latin Orator
or Poet, but barely would have him understand perfectly a
Latin Author; and that you observe, those who teach any
of the modern Languages, and that with Success, never 40
amuse their Scholars to make Speeches or Verses either in
150 Against Latin Themes. [ 170 172
French or Italian, their Business being Language barely, and
not Invention.
171. But to tell you a little more fully
Themes, ^y j wou i(j no t h ave him exercised in making
5 of Themes and Verses, i. As to Themes, they have, I
confess, the Pretence of something useful, which is to teach
People to speak handsomly 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 Gentleman,
10 nor more useful in all the Occurrences 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 at
Schools, helps not one Jot towards it : For do but consider
what it is, in making a Theme, that a young Lad is employed
15 about; it is to make a Speech on some Latin Saying; as
Omnia vincit amor; or Non licet in Bello bis peccare, 6r.
And here 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
20 something 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; which, whether
25 it be more reasonable or more ridiculous, is not easy to
determine. Before a Man can be in any Capacity to speak
on any Subject, tis necessary he be acquainted with 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 Musick.
30 And would you not think him a little crack d, 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 Matters which are
used to be proposed to them in their Themes as Subjects to
35 discourse on, to whet and exercise their Fancies?
172. In the next Place, consider the Language that
their Themes are made in : Tis Latin, a Language foreign
in their Country, and long since dead every where: A
Language which your Son. tis a thousand to one, shall
40 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
i72,i73]Speakingextempore. English Themes. 151
wherein the Manner of expressing one s self is so far differ
ent from ours, that to be perfect in that would very little
improve the Purity and Facility of his English Stile. Besides
that, there is now so little Room or Use for set Speeches
in our own Language in any Part of our English Business, 5
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 English extempore. The Way to that, I should think
rather to be this : That there should be propos d to young 10
Gentlemen rational and useful Questions, suited to their Age
and Capacities, and on Subjects not wholly unknown 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 15
penning of any thing: For I ask, if we will examine the
Effects of this Way of learning to speak well, who speak
best in any Business, 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; 20
or those, who thinking only of the Matter, to understand
that as well as they can, use themselves only to speak
extempore ? 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 25
Business.
173. But perhaps we shall be told, tis to improve and
perfect them in the Latin Tongue. Tis 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 30
of things to be said, not about the Signification of Words to
be learn d; and when they are making a Theme, tis
Thoughts they search and sweat for, and not Language. But
the Learning and Mastery of a Tongue being uneasy and
unpleasant enough in itself, should not be cumbred with any 35
other Difficulties, as is done in this way of proceeding. In
fine, if Boys Invention be to be quicken d 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. 40
And if the Latin Tongue be to be learned, let it be done
152 No Steps to Parnassus. [ 173, 174
the easiest Way, without toiling and disgusting the Mind by
so uneasy an Employment as that of making Speeches joined
to it.
174. If these may be any Reasons against Children s
c making Latin Themes at School. I have much
*J yTSS, ^
more to say, and of more Weight, against their
making Verses; Verses of any Sort: For if he has no Genius
to Poetry, tis the most unreasonable thing in the World to
torment a Child and waste his Time about that which can
10 never succeed; and if he have a poetick Vein, tis to me
the strangest thing in the World that the Father should de
sire or suffer it to be cherished or improved. Methinks the
Parents should labour to have it stifled and suppressed as
much as may be; and I know not what Reason a Father
15 can have to wish his Son a Poet, who does not desire to
have him bid Defiance to all other Callings and Business ;
which is not yet the worst of the Case; for if he proves a suc
cessful Rhymer, and gets once the Reputation of a Wit, I
desire it may be considered what Company and Places he
20 is like 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. Tis 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.
25 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 almost
constantly go away Losers ; and tis well if they escape at a
cheaper rate than their whole Estates, or the greatest Part of
30 them. If therefore you would not have your Son the Fiddle
to every jovial Company, without whom the Sparks could
not relish their Wine nor know how to pass an Afternoon
idly; if you would not have him to waste his Time and
Estate to divert others, and contemn the dirty Acres left him
35 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 versifying. 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
40 that End reading the excellent Greek and Roman Poets is of
more Use than making bad Verses of his own, in a Lan-
174 J?6] Against much learning by heart. 153
guage that is not his own. And he whose Design it is to ex
cel in English Poetry, would not, I guess, think the Way to
it were to make his first Essays in Latin Verses.
175. Another thing very ordinary in the vulgar Method
of Grammar-Schools there is, of which I see no 5
Use at all, unless it be to baulk young Lads in
the Way to learning Languages, which, in 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 10
forced to learn by heart, great Parcels of the Authors which
are taught them; wherein I can discover no Advantage at
all, especially to the Business they are upon. Languages
are to be learned only by Reading and Talking, and not by
Scraps of Authors got by heart ; which when a Man s Head 15
is stuffed with, he has got the just Furniture of a Pedant,
and tis the ready Way to make him one ; than which there
is nothing less becoming a Gentleman. 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 : 20
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. Indeed, where a
Passage comes in the way, whose Matter is worth Remem- 25
brance, and the Expression of it very close and excellent, (as
there are many such in the antient Authors) it may not be
amiss to lodge it in the Mind of young Scholars, and with
such admirable Strokes of those great Masters sometimes
exercise the Memories of School-Boys. But their learning of 30
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, wherein they
find nothing but useless Trouble. 35
176. I hear it is said, That Children should be em-
ploy d in getting things by heart, to exercise and improve
their Memories. I could wish this were said with as much
Authority of Reason, as it is with Forwardness of Assurance,
and that this Practice were established upon good Observa- 40
tion more than old Custom : For it is evident, that Strength
154 Memory a natural Gift. [ 176
of Memory is owing to an happy Constitution, and not to any
habitual Improvement got by Exercise. "Pis true, what the
Mind is intent upon, and, for fear of letting it slip, often im
prints afresh on itself by frequent Reflection, that it is apt to
5 retain, but still according to its own natural Strength of Reten-
ti6n. An Impression made on Bees-wax or Lead, will not
last so long as on Brass or Steel. Indeed, if it be renew d
often, it may last the longer ; but every new reflecting on it
is a new Impression ; and tis from thence one is to reckon,
10 if one would know how long the Mind retains it. But the
learning Pages of Latin 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 retaining
firmly any other Characters. If such a sort of Exercise of
15 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 Company. But whether the
Scraps they have got into their Heads this way, make them
remember other things the better ; and whether their Parts
20 be improved proportionably to the Pains they have taken in
getting by heart others Sayings, Experience will shew.
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 Ex-
25 ercise 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 Endeavour of ours, at least
not by that used upon this Pretence in Grammar-Schools.
And if Xerxes was able to call every common Soldier by
30 Name in his Army that consisted of no less than an 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
35 read, is, I think, little used in the Education of Princes,
which if it had that Advantage is 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
40 with other Men; though it has never been taken care of this
Way. What the Mind is intent upon and careful of, that it
176, 177] How to exercise Memory. 155
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 Memory; and he that
will take any other Way to do it, especially that of charging
it with a Train of other Peoples Words, which he that learns 5
cares not for, will, I guess, scarce find the Profit answer half
the Time and Pains employ d in it.
I do not mean hereby, that there should be no Exercise
given to Children s Memories. I think their Memories
should be employ d, but not in learning by rote whole 10
Pages out of Books, which, the Lesson being once said,
and that Task over, are delivered up again to Oblivion and
neglected for ever. 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 Sen- 15
tences being once given in charge to their Memories, they
should never be sufifer d to forget again, but be often called
to account for them ; whereby, besides the Use those Say
ings may be to them in their future Life, as so many good
Rules and Observations, they will be taught to reflect 20
often, and bethink themselves what they have to remember,
which is the only way to make the Memory quick and
useful. The Custom of frequent Reflection will keep their
Minds from running adrift, and call their Thoughts home
from useless unattentive Roving : And therefore I think 25
it may do well, to give them something every Day to
remember, but something still, that is in itself worth the
remembring, and what you would never have out of Mind,
whenever you call, or they themselves search for it. This
will oblige them often to turn their Thoughts inwards, than 30
which you cannot wish them a better intellectual habit.
177. But under whose Care soever a Child is put to
be taught during the tender and flexible Years .
of his Life, this is certain, it should be one
who thinks Latin and Language the least Part of Educa- 35
tion ; one who knowing how much Virtue and a well-
temper d Soul is to be preferred 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 40
due Time produce all the rest; and which, if it be not
156 Latin Bible. Tutor again. [ 177, 178
got and settled so as to keep out ill and vicious Habits,
Languages and Sciences and all the other Accomplishments
of Education, will be to no Purpose but to make the worse
or more dangerous Man. And indeed whatever Stir there
5 is made about getting of Latin as the great and difficult
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 some
10 body 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
the Gospels, and then let her avoid understanding them in
Latin if she can. And when she understands the Evan-
15 gelists in Latin, let her, in the same Manner read ssc*/s
Fables, and so proceed on to Eutropius, Justin, and other
such Books. I do not mention this, as an Imagination of
what I fancy may do, but as of a thing I have known done,
and the Latin Tongue with Ease got this way.
20 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
25 Prudence, and with good Sense, have good Humour, and
the Skill to carry himself with Gravity, Ease and Kindness,
in a constant Conversation with his Pupils. But of this I
have spoken at large in another Place.
178. At the same Time that he is learning French
3 and Latin, a Child, as has been said, may also be enter d
in Arithmetick, Geography, Chronology, History, and Geo
metry too. For if these be taught him in French or Latin,
when he begins once to understand either of these Tongues,
he will get a Knowledge in these Sciences, and the Lan-
35 guage to boot.
Geography I think should be begun with : For the
Geo ath l earm n f tne Figure of the Globe, the Situa
tion and Boundaries of the four Parts of the
World, and that of particular Kingdoms and Countries,
4 being only an Exercise of the Eyes and Memory, a Child
with Pleasure will learn and retain them. And this is so
178 180] Use of the Globes. Arithmetic. 157
certain, that I now live in the House with 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 ask d, to any Country upon the
Globe, or any County in the Map of England; knew all 5
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. 10
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. 1 5
179. When he has the natural Parts of the Globe
well fix d in his Memory, it may then be time
i ^-,7 , ^ T^ i i -r-. f Anthmetick.
to begin Anthmetick. By the natural Parts of
the Globe, I mean the several Positions of the Parts of the
Earth and Sea, under different Names and Distinctions of 20
Countries, not coming yet to those artificial and imaginary
Lines which have been invented, and are only suppos d for
the better Improvement of that Science.
1 80. Arithmetick is the easiest, and consequently the
first Sort of abstract Reasoning, which the Mind commonly 25
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 exercis d in Counting, as soon, and as far, as he 30
is capable of it ; and do something in it every Day, till he
is Master of the Art of Numbers. When he understands
Addition and Subtraction, he then may be advanced farther
in Geography, after he is acquainted with the Poles, Zones,
Parallel Circles, and Meridians, be taught Longitude and 35
Latitude, and by them be made to understand the Use of
Maps, and by the Numbers placed on their Sides, to know
the respective Situation of Countries, and how to find them
out on the Terrestrial Globe. Which when he can readily
do, he may then be entered in the Celestial ; Astronomy 4
and there going over all the Circles again, with
158 Astronomy. Geometry. [ 180, 181
a more particular Observation of the Ecliptick, or Zodiack,
to fix them all very clearly and distinctly in his Mind, he
may be taught the Figure and Position of the several Con
stellations, which may be shewed him first upon the Globe,
5 and then in the Heavens.
When that is done, and he knows pretty well the Con
stellations of this our Hemisphere, it may be time to give
him some Notions of this our planetary World; and to
that Purpose, it may not be amiss to make him a Draught
10 of the Copernican System, and therein explain to him the
Situation of the Planets, their respective Distances from
the Sun, the Centre of their Revolutions. This will pre
pare him to understand the Motion and Theory of the
Planets, the most easy and natural Way. For since Astro-
15 nomers 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 likeliest to be true in itself. But in
this, as in all other Parts of Instruction, great Care must
20 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 settle 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
25 perfectly comprehend it before you go any farther, and then
add some other simple Idea which lies next in your Way to
what you aim at ; and so proceeding by gentle and insen
sible Steps, Children without Confusion and Amazement
will have their Understandings opened and their Thoughts
30 extended farther than could have been expected. And
when any one has learn d 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.
1 8 1. When he has once got such an acquaintance
35 Geometr w * tn tne Globes, as is abovementioned, he may
be fit to be tried in a little 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
40 Genius and Inclination to it, being enter d so far by his
Tutor, he will be able to go on of himself without a Teacher.
181183] The Globes. Chronology. 159
The Globes therefore must be studied, and that dili
gently; and I think may be begun betimes, if the Tutor
will be but 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 5
taught any Thing that falls under their Senses, especially
their Sight, as far as their Memories 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 10
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 Memory.
182. With Geography, Chronology ought to go hand 15
in hand, I mean the general Part of it, so that
i i i * i IT- r i 11 Chronology.
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 Know- 20
ledge, and ought to be the proper Study of a Gentleman, or
Man of Business in the World; without Geography and
Chronology, I say, History will be very ill retain d, and very
little useful; but be only a Jumble of Matters of Fact,
confusedly heaped together without Order or Instruction. 25
Tis by these two that the Actions of Mankind are ranked
into their proper Places of Time and Countries, under
which Circumstances they are not only much easier kept in
the Memory, but in that natural Order, are only capable to
afford those Observations which make a Man the better 30
and the abler for reading them.
183. When I speak of Chronology as a Science he
should be perfect in, I do not mean the little Controversies
that are in it. These are endless, and most of them of so
little Importance to a Gentleman, as not to deserve to be 35
enquir d into, were they capable of an easy Decision. And
therefore all that learned Noise and Dust of the Chrono-
logist is wholly to be avoided. The most useful Book I
have seen in that Part of Learning, is a small Treatise of
Straiichius, which is printed in Twelves, under the Title of 40
Breviarium Chronologicum, out of which may be selected all
160 History. Ethics. [ 183 185
that is necessary to be taught a young Gentleman concern
ing Chronology ; for all that is in that Treatise a Learner
need not be cumbred with. He has in him the most
remarkable or useful Epochs reduced all to that of the
5 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.
184. As nothing teaches, so nothing delights more
10 H t r than History. The first of these recommends
it to the Study of grown Men, the latter makes
me think it the fittest for a young Lad, who as soon as he
is instructed in Chronology, and acquainted with the several
Epochs in use in this Part of the World, and can reduce
15 them to the Julian Period, should then have some Latin
History put into his Hand. The Choice should be directed
by the Easiness of the Stile ; for whereever he begins,
Chronology will keep it from Confusion ; and the Pleasant
ness of the Subject inviting him to read, the Language will
20 insensibly be got without that terrible Vexation and Un
easiness which Children suffer where they are put into
Books beyond their Capacity ; such as are the Roman
Orators and Poets, only to learn the Roman Language.
When he has by reading master d the easier, such perhaps
25 as Justin, Eutropius, Qiiintius Curtius, &=c. the next Degree
to these will give him no great Trouble : And thus by a
gradual Progress from the plainest and easiest Historians,
he may at last come to read the most difficult and sublime
of the Latin Authors, such as are Tnlly, Virgil, and
30 Horace.
185. 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 Appe-
35 tite, 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 Ethicks put into
his Hand till he can read Tully s Offices not as a School-
Boy to learn Latin, but as one that would be informed in
40 the Principles and Precepts of Virtue for the Conduct of
his Life.
i86, 187] Gentleman s Study of Law. 161
1 86. When he has pretty well digested Tullfs Offices,
and added to it, Puifcndorf de Officio Hominis ,
. . J . " . . Civil-Law.
o? Livis, it may be seasonable to set him upon
Grotius de Jure Belli 6 Paris, or, which perhaps is the
better of the two, Puffendorf de Jure naturali 6 Gentium ; 5
wherein he will be instructed in the natural Rights of Men,
and the Original and Foundations of Society, and the
Duties resulting from thence. This general Part of Civil-
Law and History, are Studies which a Gentleman should
not barely touch at, but constantly dwell upon, and never 10
have done with. A virtuous and well-behaved young Man,
that is well-versed in the general Part of the Civil- Law
(which concerns not the Chicane of private Cases, but the
Affairs and Intercourse of civilized Nations in general,
grounded upon Principles of Reason) understands Latin 15
well, and can write a good Hand, one may turn loose into
the World with great Assurance that he will find Employ
ment and Esteem every where.
187. It would be strange to suppose an English
Gentleman should be ignorant of the Law of 20
his Country. This, 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 with
out it. I do not mean the chicane or wrangling and
captious Part of the Law: A Gentleman, whose Business 25
is to seek the true Measures of Right and Wrong, and
not the Arts how to avoid doing the one, and secure him
self in doing the other, ought to be as far from such a
Study of the Law, as he is concerned diligently to apply
himself to that wherein he may be serviceable to his 30
Country. And to that Purpose, 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 Constitu
tion and Government in the antient Books of the Common-
Law, and some more modern Writers, who out of them 35
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 Statutes, and
shew the true Ground upon which they came to be made, 40
and what Weight they ought to have.
Q. II
162 Rhetoric & Logic. No Disputations. [ 188, 189
1 88. Rhetorick and Logick being the Arts that in the
ordinary Method usually follow immediately
^Las-Mi 1 a ft er Grammar, it may perhaps be wondered
that I have said so little of them. The Reason
5 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 there
fore I would have a young Gentleman take a View of them
10 in the shortest Systems could be found, without dwelling
long on the Contemplation and Study of those Formalities.
Right Reasoning is founded on something else than the
Predicaments and Predicables, and does not consist in talk
ing in Mode and Figure it self. But tis beside my present
15 Business to enlarge upon this Speculation. To come there
fore to what we have in hand ; if you would have your Son
reason well, let him read Chillingwo rth ; 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
20 Things that are well writ in English, to perfect his Style in
the Purity of our Language.
189. If the Use and End of right Reasoning, be to
have right Notions and a right Judgment of Things, to
distinguish betwixt Truth and Falshood, Right and Wrong,
25 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 insignificant Wrangler,
Opiniator in Discourse, and priding himself in contradicting
30 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
disingenuous, so misbecoming a Gentleman or any one
who pretends to be a rational Creature, as not to yield to
35 plain Reason and the Conviction of clear Arguments. Is
there any thing more inconsistent with Civil Conversation,
and the End of all Debate, than not to take an Answer,
though never so full and satisfactory, but still to go on with
the Dispute as long as equivocal Sounds can furnish (a
40 medius terminus] a Term to wrangle with on the one Side,
or a Distinction on the other ; whether pertinent or imper-
189] Against School-Rhetoric. 163
tinent, Sense or Nonsence, agreeing with or contrary to
what he had said before, it matters not. For this, in short,
is the Way and Perfection of logical Disputes, that the
Opponent never takes any Answer, nor the Respondent
ever yields to any Argument. This neither of them must 5
do, whatever becomes of Truth or Knowledge, unless he
will pass for a poor baffled Wretch, and lie under the Dis
grace of not being able to maintain whatever he has once
affirm d, which is the great Aim and Glory in disputing.
Truth is to be found and supported by a mature and due 10
Consideration 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 falla
cious Use of doubtful Words, which is the most useless and
most offensive Way of talking, and such as least suits a 15
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 Speak
ing. But yet I think I may ask my Reader, whether he
doth not know a great many, who live upon their Estates, 20
and so with the Name should have the Qualities of Gentle
men, 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 25
Countrymen this Right, that where they apply themselves,
I see none of their Neighbours outgo them. They have
been taught Rhetorick, but yet never taught how to express
themselves handsomely with their Tongues or Pens in the
Language they are always to use ; as if the Names of the 30
Figures that embellish d 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 Prac
tice, is to be learn d, not by a few or a great many Rules
given, but by Exercise and Application according to good 35
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 a 
