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EDITOR'S PREFACE.

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COPYRIGHT, 1896,
Bv D. APPLETON AND COMPANY .

ELECTROTYPED AND PRll\"TED

AT THE APPLETON PR&SS, U. S. A.

TrrE author of this volume has, in the course of his
dis·cussion of the theory and practice of teaching the language-arts, thrown light incidentally upon the teaching
of all the other branches in the course of study. He bas
drawn judiciously upon the vast literature of his subject,
and enriched his book with insights and keen observations from Aristotle and Quintilian in Greek and Roman
times down to Spencer and Lowell of our own day. The ·
book is in this respect a collection of fine thoughts on
, language-its use, its growth, the study of its mechanics,
its grammatical and logical structures, the order of mast ering its use in speaking, reading, and writing-first in
the primary, next in the grammar school, and after in the
high school and college; its place in the cultivation of
the powers of thought, the study of literary works of art,
the significance of philology among the sciences.
In following his discussions, the reader will do well to
ponder carefully the distinction made by the author in
the second chapter between the mechanism or technique
and the theory of the language-arts; also the array of
facts drawn from child study in Chapters IV, V, and VI
relating to the ideas in possession of the child at six years
of age, and to what he acquires and can acquire through
imitation.
The author is at great pains to discriminate the mev

vii

TEACIIING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

EDITOR'S PREF ACE.

chanical and technical aspects of language study from its
higher uses for guidance, culture, and discipline, and to
give each its due place. The mastering of the mechanical
and technical phases performs the great good of placing
the child in relation to the repositories of the wisdom of
the race so that he can use them. But it is their use, and
not the mere possession of skill to use, that enables him
to understand and interpret the world, and to penetrate
the motives of human nature that govern the conduct of
his fellow-men.
In Chapters VII, VIII, IX, X, and XIII this higher
function of literature is brought out. The prevalent
t endency to magnify the means rather than the end to be
accomplished leads frequently in school to the error of
using so much of the pupil's time in preparing to readthat is, in mere formal reading, the calling of the words
found in lessons written in the colloquial style-that little
opportunity is left for the practice of the art by reading
the great literary works of art. But this error should not
be corrected by the opposite extreme-namely, by offering
the pupil in his immature years the solidest productions
of prose and poetry and neglecting all formal studies with
dictionaries, grammars, and spelling books. .T here are
many impractical people who would throw away these ·
formal studies and hope to change the child mind into a " .·
· mature mind at once.
The di scussion of the practice of paraphrasing in
Chapter VIII places the matter in its true light. It is
only by paraphrasing the text of the great author-explaining its meaning in his (the pupil's) own wordsthat the pupil can prove to his teacher that be understands it. The teacher in turn can show the felicities of
the great writer best by comparison with the pupil's version, bringin g out tho superiority of the former in words

and diction. It . has been truly Baid that the literary
genius invents happy modes of expression for thoughts
and feelings which were hitherto unutterable or inarticu- .
late in the soul. The pupil in studying such gems of
expression learns at once the thought or feeling and its
happiest conveyance in words-he thinks and feels and
expresses for himself what the poet has taught him. But
paraphrasing, if used in any way except to verify the
pupil's understanding of the author and for teaching him
th e value of the words and diction used as compared with
his, the pupil's own attempts, is mostly wasted time.
In recent years there has been much so-called" language-study" in our schools ostensibly for the purpose of
teaching the pupil how to write or compose with facility.
He has been set at work writing numerous commonplace
sentences about commonplace things. The result of this
language-study has been described not inaptly as "gabble." The practice is a better one if it requires the
pupils to write out in a connected rnanne.r what they have
learned, say, on the occasion of a weekly written examination, or, still better, to write out their ideas gained by
reading and studying literary models. The dignified content requires a dignified form. To write commonplace
ideas in choice language al ways borders on the ridiculous.
On entrance into school at the age of six or seven
years, the child knows only the words and forms of diction of the colloquial vocabulary. He has before him the
hard task of mastering the new method of expressing
words-that of sc~ipt and printing; heretofore he has
known words only as addressed to his ear. It is obviously
the true method to teach him first the printed or written
forms of colloquial words only~words already familiar to
his ear. As soon, however, as this first mechanical stage
can be passed, the pupil should begin the work on the

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'l'EACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

literary pieces. E ach literary author has peculiarities of
style, and draws words from the vocabulary outside of the
colloquial list. He makes those partly unfamiliar words
perform miracles of expression. The child should go on
mastering one after another the one hundred or more
pieces of fine writing which are generally to be found
selected and edited for the school readers, although often
mingled with other "pieces" that are of inferior merit.
The teacher can, by a judicious use of books prepared for
home reading, make the short selection in the reader an
introduction to the reading of the whole work of literary
art at home. A discussion of Gulliver's Lilliput or The
Lady of the Lake will be a very profitable exercise in
school after several pupils have read the entire work.
Dr. Hinsdale has, in Chapter XV, noted the fact that
the teaching of English literature in our schools has begun hitherto with its history. It has been n ot a study of
li terature so much as a study about literature. It is hoped
that this evil is in process of removal.

W. T.
WAS l!IN GTO~,

D. C., April 20, 1896.

HARRIS.

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AUTHOR'S PREF ACE.

SINCE this work was written, and since much of it was
put in t ype, the teaching of English in the schools of the
country has once more been brought prominently to the
public attention. Reference is made to the late Report
of the Committee on Composition and Rhetoric to the
Board of Overseers of H arvard College, and the comm ents
that it has called out in the press.* Remarks on the
present state of English teaching will be found scattered
through the following pages, but it seems desirable in
this preface to take a broader view of the subject. The

* Report of the Committee on Composition and Rhetoric to tho
Board of o,•erseers of Harvard College (1892).
'rhe Classics and Written English, C. F. Adams, Harvard Graduates' Magazine, vol. i, p. 177.
The Root of the Evil, W. W. Goodwin, Harvard Graduates'
Magazine, vol. i, p. 189.
Report of the Comll).ittee on Composition and Rhetoric to the
Board of Overseers of Harvard College, April, 1895.
College English, The Nation, September 26, 1895, p. 219.
School English, W.W. Goodwin, The Nation, October 24, 1895,
p. 291.

School English, C. F. Adams, 'fhe Nation, October 31, 1895,
p. 309.

College English, Caskie Harrison, The Nation, October 31, 1805,
p. 310.

A Plea for the Study of Latin Grammar, X, The Nation, November 21, 1895, p. 362.
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TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

new report from Harvard, like the former one of the
same .committ~e, is not devoted to the broad subject of
teachm? .English, but to the narrow subject of teaching
composit10n. My own remarks will be similarly limited.
The main fact that is pressed home by the first re~ort and reaffirmed by the second one is, that as the Enghsh department at Harvard " is organized, under the existing standards of examination, the college seems compelled, during the Freshman year, to do a vast amount of
elementary educational work which should be done in the
preparatory schools." And this view seems to be generally accepted.
The impression that has been made upon many minds,
to the effect that the Harvard authorities hold college
preparation in English now inferior to what it was formerly, has no support in the documents. The contention
is rather that the present preparation is discreditable to
the young men who come to Harvard, and the reverse of
satisfactory to the schools from which they come, but· no
com~arison with earlier times has been made or suggested.
Manifestly such a comparison would be peculiarly difficult to make and of uncertain value, owing to the tendenc! of me~ in adult life to carry back into boyhood
their later ideals and standards, and thus to mislead
~oth .themsel.ves and others. It is possible that 'preparat10n m English for admission to Eastern colleges is inferior to what it once was, but if the mass of the American people are not better instructed in English than they
were a half century ago or a quarter of a century ago, the
fact is very discouraging, because constantly increased
attention has been bestowed upon it in the schools.
Men .who pass an intelligent judgment on the college
preparat10n of Freshmen must first answer the question,
" How much should be expected of young men and

AUTHOR'S PREF ACE.

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women at the age of nineteen?" In the case of English
the answer will be found more difficult than in the case
of most or all of the other studies. It is easy for practised writers, like the Harvard Committee and Professor
Good win, far removed as they are in memory from their
own personal struggles to learn to write, and far removed
also from the practical teaching of English in the schools,
to look for more than can be reasonably accomplished.
For example, after remarking that the average student in
the Freshman class is two years older than formerly, the
committee said in its first report : "It would certainly
seem not unreasonable to insist that young men nineteen years of age who present themselves for a college
education should be able not only to speak, but to write
their mother tongue with ease and correctness." Correctness is now the note of English prose style. Furthermore, "ease and correctness " is a relative expression, and
one can not tell just how much the committee means by
it. But if the ease and correctness of the practised writer
is what the committee has in mind, it is much mistaken.
The obvious parallel between speech and writing must
not be unduly pressed. The majority of men, even educated men, never become as proficient in writing as they
do in speech. Perhaps they could attain to the same proficiency if they had the same practice in the one art as
in the other, but this is an impossibility. The number of men called educated who can not write good English with ease, or even at all, is proportionately large..
One could wish to see a collection of the verbatim and
' facsimile compositions of four or five hundred professional
men, including a proportional number of college professors, written under circumstances similar to those that
attended the writing of the exercises that are reproduced
in the two reports. There are marked differences in per-

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

AUTHOR'S PREFACE.

sons ; but for the average student who goes to college to
create, and then to maintain, anything that deserves to
be called a style, is one of the severest tests of mental cultivation. Again, Professor Goodwin, commenting on some
translations that he quotes, remarks : " There is one charge
that can not be brought against the writers. They have
surely not neglected their English for Greek. They are
simply trying to translate from one unknown tongue into
another." This remark suggests that translation is a severe test of ability to compose. 'rhe translator carries on
a double struggle: one is to get at the thought of the original, the other to express this thought in the vernacular.
It h as often been remarked that translations by great
poets are inferior to their original work. Translations
should indeed be held up to Professor Goodwin's test, but
many a schoolboy has found that either one of the two
struggles involved a sufficient tax upon his powers.
So much it has see med wise to say by way of moderating exaggerated ideas of schoolboy English; but the
fact still remains that the English of the college Freshman is bad. Professor Goodwin scouts the idea that the
preparatory schools that send pupils to Harvard have singled out the mother tongue for neglect and contempt.
Nothing could, be further from the truth than to th.ink
that th e neglect of English is justified by the high standard of scholarship in Latin, Greek, and mathematics. "A
similar test applied to any other department," he says,
" would disclose a state of things in the lower ranks of
scholarship which would be proportionally disreputable."
There can be no doubt that the average American student
at the age of nineteen, brought up in the secondary schools,
is as much behind the English or Continental student of
the same age in ability to compose in his mother tongue
as he is in ability to perform other scholastic work. Pro-

fessor Goodwin says that boys of that age who come to
Harvard College in most cases "are barely prepared to
pass an examination which boys of sixteen or seventeen
would find easy work in England, Germany, France, or
Switzerland." He says, further, that at "Westminster
School, London, boys of from fifteen to eighteen are studying Homer, .lEschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, Aris.tophanes,
Lysius, Plato, Lucretius, Terence, Horace, Cicero, S.t.
Augustine, St. Cyril, with algebra, trigono.metry, _come
sections, statics, and dynamics." Mnch of this work i~ not
required for admission to Oxford and Cambridge, but it all
counts for honours. The Professor says further: "There
is no hope of a substantial change for the better until the
elementary studies which now occupy the time from fifteen
to nineteen are put back where they belong, so that young
men can devote themselves in earnest to studies which
belong to their age." From this point of view, therefore,
the question, Why is the English teaching in the secondary
schools bad? is expanded into the broader one, Why is our
secondary education as a whole bad?
· This question has been much discussed the last f~w
years, and in the course of the discussion it has been discovered that, in large part, the trouble lies below the secondary-school level. The Harvard Committee and Professor Goodwin tend to excuse the secondary teachers from
blame for the bad preparation of students for college.
The trouble, they say, is with the "system." This is extending the investigation to the elementary schools, which
leads to the remark that the shortening and enrichening
of the elementary course has been a favourite topic at
educational meetings and in educational journals for some
time past. I shall set down very briefly what appear to
me to be the principal reasons why the American boy
of nineteen, considered as a scholar, is two year~ in the

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TEACITING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

rear of the German, French, or English boy of the
same age.
1. The courses of study that lead French and German
boys to th~ university have been brought to a high degree
of perfec~10n. The studies have been so selected and
s~o co-ordmat~d that time is saved all along the line.
For example, m the German gymnasium Latin begins at
ten and. Greek at twelve, while modern languages are
brought m at an early stage, thus assisting materially the
mastery of German. The gymnasium is not a finishing
school, but every step from the first one is bent toward
the university. Practically the same may be said of the
French and English schools. In the United States on
the other hand, seco ndary courses of study have not been
as we_II thought out and tested. Moreover, the double
funct10n of m.any ?f our schools, and particularly of high
schools, h~s impaired their efficiency in both spheres.
Reference is made, of course, to the fact that these schools
are at the same time fini shing schools for life and fittiug
schools for college. To be sure, the courses of study inte~d~d fo~ the two purposes more or less vary. Whether
tlus impairment of the American school is inherent in the
system or is due to defective co-ordination need not be
considered here.
'

Th~ facts may be put in another way. In European
c.ountrres schools are based on the existing social organization. .The aim is to provide education for those youths
who will pass out of school at thirteen or fourteen years
o~ age, for those who will pass out of it at eighteen or
~m~tee~, and f?r those who are destined for the higher
msfatut10ns of mstruction. These pupils are not taught
together as far as the first class go, and the remainder are
not all taught together as far as the second class go, but
to a great extent are separate almost from the time that

AUTHOR'S PREFACE.

xv

they go to school, and are taught with reference to their
supposed destination. All kinds of pupils may be taught
together for the first three years, but this is not necessarily, or indeed commonly, the case. This is what may
be called the" three-pyramid plan" of organizing schools.
"The three courses of instruction," says Dr. Fitch, "primary, secondary, and higher, may be compared to three
pyramids of different sizes, though all in their way symmetrical and perfect; but you can not take the apex of
the larger pyramid and set it on the top of the smaller.
You may indeed fit on, with a certain practical convenience, the top of the higher scheme of education to the
truncated system of the lower, provided you go low
enough," etc. Our State school systems are organized on
the one-pyramid plan. The comparative merits of the two
plans for general purposes is a topic aside from the present
purpose. But the three-pyramid plan has two obvious
advantages. One is that courses of instruction can be
made out with sole reference to completeness in themselves, and the other that the abler pupils, who are the
ones destined for college as a rule, are put by themselves,
and so can move, even in elementary studies, at their own
natural rate of speed. How far our social conditions would
justify an attempt to reorganize our schools on this plan,
and how far studies that are now taught exclusively in
the secondary schools can be brought down into the elementary grades, are very interesting questions. For one,
I look with considerable confidence to the experiments
now being made in the second direction.
2. The teachers· in the foreign schools, as a class, are
superior to ours. They are better prepared to do their
work, and they do it better. This preparation includes
better scholarship, more distinct ideals, and superior teaching ability. These teachers know just what is expected of
2

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TEACilING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

them, and know they will be held responsible for the result. It is needless almost to refer to the fact that, on an
average, they pursue their work for a much longer period
of time.
3. National tone is a not unimportant factor in the
question. The industrial, commercial, and political tension of American society is the highest known in the
world. In this respect we are keyed up to the highest
note. But in science, philosophy, and literature-that
is, in the intellectual sphere proper- our tension is distinctly lower than that of England, France, or Germany.
The average intelligence may be as high in this country,
or even higher, but our higher culture so called is of a
lower grade. The high intellectual tension of the educated class abroad is felt in the schools. There now lies
before me a description of a German gymnasium written
by a student of my acquaintance who passed through it,
and I doubt whether there is a city in the United States
where a school with such a regimen could be maintained.
The key is too high for American life as now attuned.
What has been said about general culture is particularly applicable to the language-arts,- speech, reading,
and composition, which are a very delicate test of personal cultivation. I have not hesitated to avow the opinion
(page 54) that the relatively low standard of culture prevailing in the country, including teachers as well as pupils, is
in large measure the cause of the low state of these arts
· in the schools. There is perhaps reason to think that the
average cultivation of college students, including English,
is lower than it was fifty years ago. Were not college
students a more select body then than they are now? Did
they not better represent the highest cultivation of the
country? Have not the great increase of wealth, the
enormous material improvements that have _been effected,

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XVll

and the growth of population, together with the demo.cratizing of society, tended appreciably to make American
college students, as a whole, a more heterogeneous class of
persons?
What is the final conclusion? That we should remain
satisfied with the teaching, and particularly the English
teaching, as it is to-day? By no means. The prese~t
work has been written in the faith that improvement is
attainable. 'Two or three practical remarks may be made
on this point.
First. In the following pages I have laid constant
stress on imitation in teaching the language-arts. Good
models are insisted upon, I fear, to the weariness of the
reader. Practice under suitable correction has also been
emphasized. Remarking upon the proficiency in baseball
and other athletic sports of the boys who come to Harvard College, the committee asks how it is acquired, and
replies that it does not come by studyi~g r~les printed in
books devoted to athletic sports, or by hstenmg to lectures
.on curves and the like, but by practice. "It is only
through similar, daily, and incessant practice," says the
committee, "that the degree of facility in writing the
mother tongue is acquired, which always enables the student or adult to use it as a tool in his work."
Secondly. The use of the word "tool " sugg.ests a seribus defect in many American schools. ·There is a great
difference between set formal exercises in any a.rt as an
end in itself and the habitual use of the same art as a
means ·or instrument to accomplish some other end. Mr.
C. F. Adams, chairman of · the committee, like many
others has remarked the difference between formal class
spelli~g and spelling in ordinary writing. The sa~e distinction may be made in respect to penmanship and
drawing. · How very different the writing that children

xix

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

AUTHOR'S PREF ACE.

put in their familiar letters is from the writing that they
put in their copy-books! And the same in composing.
"For want of practice," says Mr. Adams, "the scholar
does not carry into his other and daily work the results of
his teaching. He can write a formal composition, such as
it is; he can not render Greek or Latin into English."
This is the crux of school composition. Nothing but
plenty of writing, and particularly non-formal or extemporaneous writing, as in the daily work of the school
under a moderate tension of criticism, will transmute the
pupil's specific skill into formal skill. How wide the distance between the set composition and the extemporaneous composition of the common pupil or student! We
need more extemporaneous composition in the schools. In
this respect the German or the English student is distinctly better off than his American cousin.
The third and last suggestion is that much current
language teaching affects English composition unfavourably. "Sight reading," which rests on the assumption
that the student should understand the author in the
original, has for some time been the vogue in preparatory
schools. X points out very clearly that the revolt from
the grammar and dictionary has gone so far that a positive deterioration of both classical and English scholarship has often resulted. He says students who come
to Harvard, and picked ones, too, "have not even a conception of what accurate work· means. They have obtained by practice a kind of knack of guessing at the
meaning of a sentence; but in most cases they see it
'through a glass darkly,' often very darkly." This writer
thinks, accordingly, that some of the emphasis recently
given to sight reading should be withdrawn, and more
stress be laid on thoroughness. The traditional importance assigned to translation as an English exercise may

be exaggerated. No doubt translation is sometimes. a
positive loss to the pupil's English rather than a ga~n,
undoing, owing to slipshod methods, wha~ for~al mstruction has '<lone. Still, good translation is an important ally of the English teacher.

xviii

The purpose and scope of the present work are stated
in
the
introductory chapter. While nothing more is called
i'
'.
for
on
that head, a few words concerning its origin are
"
deemed pe i.nen: .
Mor than ten years ago, bile serving as Superintendent o
e
oo s of Cleveland, Ohio, my attention was closely drawn to the nature and relation of
speech, reading, language lessons, composition, and literature. I gave much thought to methods of instruction,
and particularly to the correlation of the several lin~~ of
teaching. Afterward, when called to my present pos1t10n,
{__ it became my duty to give instruction on these subjects as
part of a course in the art of teaching. I now came more
. clearly to conceive of these arts as a distinct .gr?uP. by
themselves, and to assign a new importance to im1tat10n,
and especially unconscious imitation, in learning them.
Thus there gradually grew up, within the course referred
to , a series of lectures denominated Lectures
. on Teaching the Language-Arts. These lectures, revised and extended, comprise this work.. Whatev~r may be its merits,
it has grown out of practical experience, and has been
matured by reflection. ·
. Those teachers who are abreast of the best current
practice in the schools will find nothing in the book relating to method that is very novel or original. The claim
to merit must rest on these particulars : First, the clear
conception and description of speech, reading, and composition as arts; secondly, the large place assigned to use

xx

TEACHING

THE

LANGUAGE-ARTS.

and want, to models and imitation, and the small place
to reflective art in teaching them; and, thirdly, the
grounding of the several teaching processes in the fundamental facts of human nature. In other words, this is a
book of principles illustrated by methods rather than of
methods illuminated by principles. If this claim be allowed, I do not hold it to be a slight merit. With nothing do the teachers of the country stand in need of closer
familiarity than with educational principles. Principles
do not supersede methods; facts, rules ; theory, practice;
science, art: but principles, facts, theory, and science
must, in the long run, govern and control all practical
applications.
I have not therefore sought to add another to the list
of " Lessons" and "Exercises " in English, " Composition
Books," and the like, which is already so long, but rather
to show the ends to which such books should look, the
methods to which they should conform, and the reasons
for such conformity. Exhaustive treatment has not been
aimed at. The purpose has been to confine the discussion
to schools; and if much of it has an application to colleges, as indeed it has, the reason is that the leading
principles set forth are unlimited by grade lines, but are
continuous.
My thanks are due to my friend Professor I. N. Demmon for valuable aid in preparing t.his work. I have had
the benefit of his criticism on many special features of
the work, and, what has been of greater vaJue, have enjoyed repeated opportunities to discuss the subject with
him in its general bearings.
B. A.
THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN,

HINSDALE.

December 14, 1895.

CONTENTS.
PAGE

v
ix

EDITOR'S PREFACE
AUTHOR'S PREFACE

I.

CHAPTER
THE SCOPE OF THE PRESENT WORK
~

,,,,

.

The Lindley ·Murray conception of gramma.r, 1'. 2; Professor
Greene's books, 2, 8 ; the present 'state of English m the schools,
3, 4; aims of the present work, 4, 5.
CHAPTER

'J .
l

1

•

II.

6

TnE LANGUAGE-ARTS DEFINED •

Science and art, 6 ; two phases of art, 6 ; the school studies and
school arts discriminated, 'l, 8 ; the two phases of the languagearts, 9, 10; effects of wrong classification, 10, 11.
.

CHAPTER

III.

TnE VERNACULAR AS AN EDUCATIONAL INSTRUMENT •

12

Language and mind, 12-14; language a factor in national c~lture,
14 15 · a factor in individual culture, 15-18; Professor Laurie nnd
S~hurman quoted, 18--20.

D;,

CHAPTER IV.
'l'HE WORK OF THE ELEMENTARY SCHOOL •

21

Tho chilcl's mental possessions at the age of six, 21, 22 : tho w~rk
of the primary teacher, 22-24; authorities quoted · on vocabulnr1cs
of children, note, 24, 25.
CHAPTER V.
THE ORIGIN OF THE CHILD'S KNOWLEDGE

Fundamental fact.s of the mind stated, 21l-28 ; the child's ideas at
the age of six grouped, 28--32.

xxi

26

xxii

PAGE

VI.

CHAPTER

81 ; npperception, 81, 82; the render to have one life with the author, 82-85 ; vnluo to the child of acquaintance with Nature, 85.

PAGE

THE ORIGIN OF THE CHILD'S LANGUAGE

33

Th e child's instincti vc vocnl uttcrnncc, 33, 34 ; tho child uses his
voice to express mental states, 34, 35; the otlicc of imitation, 3539; no truce of rule or formal method, 40; authorities quoted on
imitation, note, 40-42.

CHAPTER

CHAPTER

43

CHAPTER

55

CHAPTER
TEAClIING COMPOSITION •
(

IX.

66

The printed l:ngc, G6, 6'l; relation of' the author to his composition,
6'T; tho function of the rca<lcr, 67-70.
CHAPTER

X.

RE.ADING AND MENTAL CULTIVATION ,

94

First teaching of r ending an homogeneous excrciso, 94, 95; tho
work begins to differentiate, 95; the reading lesson, 95, 96; tho pupil's study of the lesson, 96; the teacher to study with the class, 97 ;
r ending lessons to be connected with other sources of cultivation,
98 ; the study of definitions, 98-101; testing pupils, 101-103; remarks on school renders and the child's rending matter, 103-106;
freedom and criticism, 106, 10'7; illustrative lessons, lOS--111.

Changes of school regim en to come slowly, 55; former methods
to be employed, 5G ; copying and dictation, composing themes,
parnphrnsing, imitation of chosen models, and translation, 5G- 61 ;
etymologies, 61-63; history in words, 63-65.
CHAPTER

XIII.

TEACHING READING AS THOUGHT •

VIII.

THE ART OF READING •

86

The symbolism of the printed page, 86, 8'7; the vocal values of the
symbols, 8'7, 88; significance of the symbols, 8S--90; r eading not
at first n source of now idel)B, 90, 91 ; rules, 92; Professors Dowden
nnd Corson on reading aloud quoted, 92, 93 ; Mr. George Ticknor
quoted, note, U3.

Professor Laurie's analysis of language, 43, 44; child tirst deals
with lnngungc as substance of thought, 44, 45; methods of instruction: conversations, stories, object lessons, reading lessons,
selections of poetry memorized, and written exercises, 45-50 ; ethical value of language lessons, 50, 51; association, 51, 52; rules, 53;
language agent,,, clnssiticd, 53, 54.

THE L ANGUAGE-ARTS IN THE HIGHER GRADES AND IN THE
HIGH ScnooLs

XII.

T EACHING READING AS AN ART ,

VII.

CHAPTER

THE LANGUAGE-ARTS IN THE LOWER GRADES

xxiii

CONTENTS.

CONTENTS.

71

Relation of rending to guidance studies, 71, '72; to disciplinary
studies, '72, '73 ; to culture studies, '73, 'l4; to general literature,
'l4-'l'T ; Mr. Lowell nnd Professor Norton quoted, note, 'l'T, 'TS.

.

.

,

,

XIV.
,

,

CHAPTER

XV.

TEACHING ENGLISH LITERATURE ,
CHAPTER

XI.

REQUISITES FOR READING

Th o threefold preparation, 'Tn; attention to bo pnid to each requirement, 80; Professor Blackie on our original knowledge, SO,

79

112

Th o old regime, 112; definition of composition and its relations,
118, 114; difficulty of the nrt, 114; nnturnl gifts nnd practice, 11 5,
116 ; practical suggestions for the teacher : training in l angungo
lessons, pupil's interest to bo enlisted, choico of a subject, tho
teacher to choose and assign subj ects, the teacher to instruct in
tho modus of composition, making outlines, rules, and criticisms,
ll'T-124; relation of thought material to thought expression, 124,
125; the intensive plan, 125, 126; Dr. Franklin's ~tyle and the
val no of tho art of composition, 126, 12'7.

Tho object or aim to be held in view, 128; Mr. Qnick's definition
of literature, 128, 129; the two aspects of liternturc, substance nnd
art, to bo held togeth er, 130, 131; subordinate aspects, 131; false
ideals, 132-134 ; Mr. Hudson's model, 134, 135 ; the subordination

128

xxiv

CONTENTS.

CONTENTS.

of grammar, philology, etc., to literary elements, 136; discursive
study und intensive study to be combined, 136, 137; literature
nnd i·ecitatious, 137, 138; literature and examinations, 138, 139 ;
h aste in ed ucation, 139; history of literature, 140; teach ers sometimes too ambitious, 141 ; why literaturn shoulJ be taught in the
schools, 141, 142.
CHAPTER

CHAPTER

XIX.
PA.GE

TEACHERS OF THE L.ANGUAGE-ARTB

199

Qunlificntions of primary teachers, 199, 200 ; the special teacher
question, 200; report of the conference on Engli~h quoted, 200,
201 ; co-operation of teachers and special exercises, 201, 202 ;
q unlitications of tho teacher of literature, 202.

XVI.

'l'IIE FUNCTION OF ENGLISH GRAMMAR

xxv

PJ.GE

BIDLIOGRAPIIY

147

. .. . /

• 203

Ancient definition of grammar, 147, 148; Murray's and Kirkham's
Grammars, 149; traditionary viow of grammar fa lse, 150; gram,
mar a sc ience, 151, 152 ; c11uses that broke down the authority of
the scholastic grammar, 153-155; reasons for studying grammar:
confers knowledge of tho vernnculnr, 156 ; has disciplinary vnlue,
156--158; is the logic of speech, 159 ; influences practice through
mental activity, 160; relntion of study of grammar to use of the
vernacular, 161-1 65 ; practical suggestions for teach ers, 165--167;
illustrative exercise, 168-170.

CHAPTER XVII.
171

THE FUNCTION OF RHETORIC

I

D efinitions quoted, 171- 173 ; rh etoric a threefold study, 174; has
disciplinary value, 175; has culture value, 176 ; rules of rhetoric
of two kinds, mechnnical and psychological, 177 ; rules for punctuating and capitalizing, 178 ; psychological rules, 176--180 ; Herbert Spencer's Essay on The Philoso phy of Style quoted, 180,
181; Professor Minto quoted, 182 ; rhetoric iu the high school,

183, 184.

CHAPT E R

XVIII.

THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM

Criticism n prneticnl art, 185; causes of the difficulty of th e subj ect, 185--188; the problem invol ves the harmonizing of criticism
and freedom, 188, 189 ; practical suggestioIJs : early criticism must
rest on authority, 189; must be repeated, 189 ; must be conducted
with refer ence to child's age and progress, 189, 190; teacher not
to expect too mu ch, 190; rules and reasons to be gradually introduced, 190, 191 ; the spirit of criticism, 191, 192; mnny exercises
to pass without rev iew, 192 ; pupil to piny tho critic of himself,
193, 194 ; the" Nature" rules discuss'cd, 194-197.

185

II.
!

I
:

. . ' :· . .:..•. ! .

..

I.'

~

''" '

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.
CHAPTER I.
THE SCOPE OF THE PRESENT WORK.

(

LINDLEY MURRAY spoke in accordance with the tradition that had been delivered to him when, at the close
of the last · century, he gave this definition: "English
grammar is the art of speaking and writing the English
language with propriety." It might at first seem that,
starting with such a definition, the learned author would
have given the world a practical rather than a scientific
book-something like the books on Composition and
Language Lessons that, in recent years, have poured into
the schools like a flood. He did nothing of the kind.
There could hardly be a wider gap between the definition
of a subject and a treatise devoted to its discussion than
the gap which lies between Murray's definition and the
body of his English Grammar. He first declares grammar
to be pure art or practice, and then treats it as pure science
or theory. The same inconsistency appears in all the
writers and teachers of that period. The grammatical
tradition that these writers and teachers had received, was
not suffered to influence the practice of the schools of the
old regime. For example, the teachers devoted a great
deal of time to parsing. The better pupils became profi1

2

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

cient in" parting "-that is, classifying-words; in declining, conjugating, and comparing them; in detecting and
pointing out "agreement" and "government," and in
applying rules of syntax which, it is fair to say, they did
not half the time at all understand. There are many
persons still living who went through much or- all of
Paradise Lost or the Essay on Man, or perchance The
Course of Time, in this way. All this, 1t is almost superfluous to say, was purely theoretical work. The correction of false syntax, to which much time was given, was
the only point at which the pupil touched practice at all;
and there is great reason to fear that this exercise was
harmful quite a8 often as it was beneficial. Beyond .this
little was done in the schools in the broad field of what
we now call "English" and the "study of English."
Below the college, grammar reigned supreme. Essaywriting was practised in some schools. Besides the exercises in reading, which were of course important, no attention was given to English literature, either in the
schools or in the colleges.
It is now generally admitted, at least by competent
authorities, that the Lindley Murray view of grammar is
mainly false, and that the subject, taught in the traditionary way, has small practical value. No doubt the
scholastic grammar was of much benefit to many p~pils,
as I shall point out in a future chapter; but here I must
sketch the movement of ideas and the changes of school
practice from the old days of formal grammar down to
the present time.
The first real step forward was the introduction into the
schools of sentence analysis. Parsing now began to fall
into the background, though by no means as rapidly as
could have been desired. Professor S. S. Greene contributed more to this end than ariy other writer that can

THE SCOPE OF THE PRESENT WORK.

3

be named. His books, and especially his Treatise on the
Structure of the English Language, commonly called
"Greene's Analysis," exerted an influence upon authors
aud teachers that was both widespread and salutary. He
had the great merit of giving prominence to synthetic
or constructive work, limited, however, to sentence-building. He was the real author of the most generally accepted system of analyzing and classifying English sentences and their component parts. In the preface of .his
Analysis (1847) Greene enumerated some of "the numerous advantages arising from studying grammar, or rather
language, through the structure of sentences"; but these
advantages are all of a disciplinary character. In the Analysis he adheres to the old definition of grammar; but
in his Introduction to the Study of Grammar (1867) he
frankly says, " English grammar treats of the principles
of the English language."
Professor Greene's books and those modelled after them
prepared the way for the next step forward. This step
consisted of what are technically called "Language Lessons,'' and sometimes merely" Language." These lessons
are, in fact, nothing but an expansion of the synthetic
work that has already been mentioned.
The appearance in the school curriculum of "English" in the technical sense marks the last movement along
this line of study. The word means sometimes more and
sometimes less. In its wide scope it includes language
lessons, composition, Anglo-Saxon and Old English, formal and historical grammar, rhetoric, literature, and the
history of literature. In its narrow scope it is confined
to composition and literature and closely related subjects.
In no department of study have the schools recently
seen more dissatisfaction, more unrest, and more experiment than in this one. Everything is in a flux: authors,

--'

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

superintendents, and teachers seem · to appreciate that
something bearing the name of English must constitute a
marked feature of the schools ; but they do not, as classes
at least, see clearly what it should be, or how it should be
tau ght. As a whole, the schools are feeling their way;
as a body, teachers are wasting a great deal of their own
and their pupils' time and energy in efforts more or less
aimless and misdirected ; and there is little probability
of the return of that unity and satisfaction which so
strongly marked the Lindley Murray regime. Tw_.;hings
are clear : one is that the old regime can not be brought
back; the second is that to teach English successfully requires a combiuation of cultivation, taste, judgment, and
practical skill which is not found in the corrimon teacher
of the subject. Ability to state with positiveness what an
id eal course should be, is not necessary to qualify one to
affirm that, while there are some good teachers and more
mediocre ones, the major part of the English work done
in schools at the present time is unsatisfactory.
Reversing the order of statement, such is the present
status of English in the schools, and such the steps that
have led up to it. This account has not been given on
account of any historical interest or value that it may
possess, but rather as an introduction to a statement of
the aims and purposes of the present work. These are as
follows:1. To state fully and illustrate clearly the principles
ha und.etli all-pracli-ca;l- Irn:rgmrg mrlture,wm:.+mr,.-->-t.
assumes the form of speech, r eading, or compositionl_ what I have ventured to call the language-arts.
-----;r.--To emplias1ze tile value o Silc cu ture-the education that grows directly out of the use and study of
the vernacular.
3. To present to teachers some method s and deYices

THE SCOPE OF THE PRESENT WORK.

5

that, intelligently followed, will enable them to carry on the
child's instruction in the language-arts in harmony with
the underlying principles. 'l'hese methods and devices
cover in a general way the whole field up to the college;
they even touch the college, and reach far into the field
of self-cultivation.
4. To discuss grammar and rhetoric with a double
purpose: first, to determine wherein their principal educational value lies; and, secondly, to point out their relations to the language-arts. The teaching of literature
and the functions of criticism in the language-arts will
also receive merited attention. The order of this analysis will not in all cases be strictly followed.

3

·.

'

THE LANGUAGE-ARTS DEFINED.

CHAPTER II.
THE LANGUAGE-ARTS DEFINED.
BEFORE we can intelligently consider the special subject of this chapter, we must form clear ideas of science ·
and art and their primal relation.
Science is knowledge and art is skill ; or, more fully,
science is organized knowledge, while art is educated skill.
The same ideas are expressed by the terms " theory" and
"practice." This is the fundam ental distinction. Here
art is actual skill, practice, or doing. But art has a second meaning; it signifies also a body of rules or precepts
that guide skill, practice, or doing. This is the sense of
art in the statement that science teaches us to know and
art to do; or in the statement that the two differ as the
indicative mode differs from the imperative, the first making declarations, the second issuing commands. This is
the sense in which art is used in the familiar titl!:'. , "The
Art of T eaching." Practice conveys the same idea in
th e titles, "The Theory and Practice of Teaching," "The
Theory and Practice of Medicine." The radical relation
of the two elements is perfectly obvious: the science or
theory of the book or course of lectures consists of the
facts and principles advanced; the art or practice is composed of the rules and methods. To grasp this duality of
art, practice and rules to guide practice, is most important The second is the conscious or reflective side oI art.
6

'l

The matters that are immediately pursued and taught
. ,, an d " su b.JeC t s. ,,
in schools are commonly ca11ed "stu d ies
While this usage is so well settled that there is little
probability of its being changed,. it i~ at th~ same time
misleading in classification and mISchievous m results, as
can easily be made to appear.
In some school work the fundamental activity is doing
or practice ; in other work, learning or knowin~. In the
:fi,rst case, the end is skill or practical power ; m t~e ~ec­
onu case, knowledge or intellectual power. TJ;ie d1stmction is the same as that between art and science, practice
and theory. The relation of the two is an intimate one.
Knowledge leads to doing, and doing to knowing.
To separate the school arts from the school studies or
subjects proper, it is only necessary to ask: "Which is the
predominant activity, doing or knowing? " " Which the
predominant end, skill or. intelli~e?ce?" To~~hed by
this question, speech, readmg, wntmg, compos1t10n, the
elements of arithmetic, drawing, manual training, and
music declare themselves to belong to the one class;
geography, history, grammar, literature, mathematics,
and the sciences to the other. On the one side we have
tools . or instruments, on the other branches or divisions
of knowledge. The principal of these arts or tools are
speech, reading, and writing, and they constitute the subject-matter of this book. The others may be characterized
in general, and then be dismissed once for all.
Most of the elementary school arts involve reading and
writing of some kind. Arithmetical notation is a species
of writing, numeration of reading. The other elements
of arithmetic-addition, subtraction, multiplication, and
division-are mere processes or methods of computation.
They are as much arts as the abacus, or the contrivances
used in calculation by the Chinese. All these elements-

-

-

--..........---....----

---- --- ----------....-----......
8

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.
,

the so-called fundamental rules-belong equally to the
other branches of mathematics ; but they are first acquired
in connection with number or arithmetic, and they determine its practical character. Drawing is a form of writing. A draftsman makes a working drawing of a machine;
a workman reads it and follows its directions. Manual
training and mu sic are confessedly arts; and, in general,
it may be said that all systems of symbolism and nom enclature, all notations, signs, and alphabets, are mere tools,
appliances, arts; they are not taught or studied as ends,
but as means ; they are put in the elementary school because they are essential to its real work, as well as to
the work of life, and they give to it its predominant
character.
Now we return to language. Vocal expression is wstinctive, but speech is an art. 'l'he human infant spontaneously expresses himself in sounds, noises, cries of
various kinds, but he does not spontaneously speak the
German, th e En glish, or the French language, or even
any savage dialect of the desert or forest. As we shall
see hereafter, it is imitation that transform s the infant's
instinctive ntterance into language. P erhaps oral speech
is not commonly counted among the arts; but we virtually
acknowledge that it is so when we speak of "the art
of conversation" and of "the art of public spe'.tking,"
for these forms of speech do not differ from common
speech in kind. Moreover, speech is an art that is cultivated, or at least should be cultivated, in the school.
Reading is a means of study and not a study itself. It
discloses the contents of the printed page. It is skill fo'r
the completion of a work. It is an instrument of acquirement, and can be used with power and ease only through
much practice. Writing is a means of record and impartation. It produces the printed page. It is the correla-

,

THE LANGUAGE-ARTS. DEFINED.

9

tive of reading, originating at the same time, and has long
been known as the art preservative of arts. Composition
is to the mind what writing is to the hand or speech to
the vocal organs ; it is the production and arrangement
of ideas, as writing is of characters and speech of sounds;
or, if composition is held to include expression, as properly it does, then it is a double art, including the arrangement of ideas and their expression in words.
We must not overlook the fact that the language-arts
present the two phases that belong to the arts in general.
'l'hey may be considered as practical skill for the accomplishment of some work, or as codes of rules creating
and guiding skill. The child reads, writes, etc.; there
are also rules for reading and writing. 'I'he relation of
the pupil and of the teacher to these rul es is a subject
that will claim much of our attention at a more advanced
stage of our discu ssion; here it suffices to say that readin g as practical skill and reading as a code of rules are
two very different things. The child goe~ to .school to
acquire the skill, and the rules are of practical value only
in so far as they contribute to that end. It should also be
observed that the two are by no means inseparable. A
person may read well, and not be able to give any rules;
he may also give rules in abundance, and not be able to
read well, or even at all.
Nor must we overlook the fact that the language-arts,
like the other school arts, are more or less connected with
certain sciences. The art of music leans upon the science
of mu sic; drawing and manual training depend ~~on
physics and mathematics ; the pri~ciples. of com?os1t10n
are found in grammar and rhetonc; while readmg and
writing go back to physiology and psychology.
It is not impertinent to remark that we are here dealing with reading and. the other arts of the elementary

...................________

-- - - - - -- ------~...-...
.. ~

10

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

school as they are carried on in the school, and not as
they are treated in books or lectures. If they are made
the subject of scientific investigation; if they are treated
reflectively; if rules, methods, facts, and laws occupy att ention to the exclusion of skill on practice, then they
become studies or subjects as a matter of course. But
this is not the way in which th ey present themselves to
the child holding in his hand his primer or his copybook.
Two additional observations may be offered. The first
is that if reading, writing, and composition, as found in
the schools, are studies at all, they are studies of a peculiar
character. Little discrimination is needed to separate
them from formal studies like grammar and rhetoric, or
from real studies like math ematics and science. They do
not become studies until they are subjected to scientific
method; that is, until they are made the subject-matter
of discussion and formal treatment. It is true that they all
give the pupil some discipline, and that they all add something to his store of knowledge ; but these are minor facts
th at do not determine their classification. At most, in the
school th ey are tools or instrumental studies. The second
observation is that if the distinction between the school
arts and the school studies be pronounced unimportant,
two answers may be mad e. Cl a~sification should rest on
facts-should be scientific. Then the present designation
of these arts as studies leads the teacher, or at all events
tends to lead the teacher, to misplace the emphasis and to
adopt a false method. If reading, for example, is regarded as a study or subject, rather than an art, the teacher is
tempted to place rules or method above power to execute,
and above the practice which alone can produce such
power. Still more is this the tendency in teaching composition. Never, until the idea that composition is a
"study" to be learned from a.book is banished from the

THE LANGUAGE-ARTS DEFINED.

11

school, will children be taught to write properly. Among
the severest criticisms made upon the common school are
these : "The reading and spelling are poor," "The meehanical work in arithmetic is laborious and inaccurate,"
"The composition is bad"; and these are faults that can be
corrected only through practice. 'l'here can be no greater
mistake in relation to the first stages of school education
than that the rationale of a process is immediately valuable. A painter or musician knows his technical rules
and his science, but neither his technical rules nor his
science can take the place of technique or execution. It
is by no means always true that a mathematician is "good
in figures"; on the other hand, he is often poor. It is
therefore extremely important that the teacher should
clearly see whether the end to which a school exercise
looks is skill or knowledge-practical power or intellectual power.

13

THE VERNACULAR.

CHAPTER III.
TH E VERNACUL.\.Il AS AN EDUCATIONAL INSTRU ME N T.

THE first view that men take of language, and the
only one that most of them ever take, is the practical
view. Language is a tool to be used in the commerce of
life. Throu gh it we receive the thought and feeling of
our fellows, and convey our own thought and feeling to
them in turn. The field of this peculiar comm~rce is so
extensive that it gives rise to the three greatest arts'speech, reading, and writing. These pages abound in
remarks on the value of these arts and their place in education. In the present chapter it is proposed to take a
broader and more fundamental view of the subject. This.
is the more necessary, because a large majority of men,
and even of teachers, never look beyorid the immediate
or practical uses of this great instrument of human intercourse to discover its furth er value.
The relation of language and the mind has furnished
men of speculative habit some of the most interesting and
difficult questions with which they have grappled. One
of th ese questions, and perhaps the most fascinating of all,
is whether general names denote real existence .or only
subjective existence-the old contention of the Nominalists and the Realists. Another and perhaps a more practical one is whether language and thought are inseparable.
It is a tradition of the schools . that without articulate
12

speech there is, and there can be, no real mental activity,
at least no thinking. This tradition, inveterate as it
is, is certainly untrue. The existence of human intelligence, independent of language, can be conclusively est ablished.* It bv no means follows, however, that the
hum an intellige~ce can be fully developed, or even far
developed, without language. On the other hand, mental
growth can never advance beyond a certain rudimentary
*Prof. Preyer, who is perhaps the highest aut hority on the subject, gives us the demonstration (see Mental Development in the
Child). Preyer remarks, what indeed any in telligent observer can
see for himself, that the child learns to make the discrimination of
warm and wet, damp and cool, dry and warm, dry and cold, rough
and hard, soft and smooth, heavy and light, at a time when as yet
he gives no hint whatever in the direction of naming his feelings in
words of articulate speech (page 30). He remarks too that deaf and
dumb children in the first months do not differ essentially from
normal children (page 31). Children born completely deaf have,
"through the senses of sight and touch, a large number of ideas,
and they often have a remarkable understanding" (page 88). The
first time that a child with a spoon in his right hand strikes the
table, notices the sound, and then, shifting t he spoon to the other
hand, repeats the experiment, he gives a sign of intellect that seeks
fo r causes (page 85). Forest children t hat have been rescued from
their imbrutement, and have learned to talk, have shown a mental
development superior to the animals about them, and have turned
to practical account in their new life what they had learned in the
wiluerness (pages 90-93). Again, the general conclusion is strengthened by analogous facts observed in the study of animals, in the
fi elds and woods, in zoOlogical gardens, and in the aquarium (page
84). Still, further, ideas are before words, and therefore before
talking (page 89). Thinking, in the proper sense of the term, can
not be taught to any one through verbal instruction. No child is
at first instructed in thinking, but every child learns of himself to
think as much as he learn s to see and hear (page 69). In the child
no special activity of intellect is proved by a special aptitude for
acquiring words, but sometimes the contrary (page 94).

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TEACilING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

THE VERNACULAR.

stage unless the child is in possession of an adequate
means of expression. 'l'his is not denied. :Furthermore,
adequate means of expression implies a verbal language.
:Facial expression, looks, signs, gestures, pictures, and
symbols do not suffice. The truth is, that we early learn
to carry on our thinking in words; that in real human
life thought and language are practically inseparable, and
that neither one can be understood, or be intelligently
discussed, without constant reference to the other. We
may call intelligence the master of speech, but the servant is indispensable to the master.* Sir William Hamilton has appositely said that language is the godmother
of knowledge. "Language is to the mind precisely what
the arch is to the tunnel," he says; " the power of
thinking and the power of excavation are not dependent
on the word in one case, or on the mason work in the
other; but without these subsidiaries, neither process
cou ld be carried beyond it.s rudimentary comW;f!;:cern ent." t We must, however, make this almost inseparable relation the subject of a closer investigation.
Not only have writers on psychology, logic, and philology discussed the genetic relation of thought and speech,

but historians have marked the correspondence of their
respective development. "Language lies at the root of all
mental cultivation." So says the great historian of Rome,
Dr. Theodor Mommsen; and no one has a better right to
say so than he, unless it may be an equally eminent historian of Greece. The great languages of the world are
no accidents; they are not found here and there at
random, but belong to the great peoples. The thought,
the imagination, the feeling of Greece could not have
existed separate and apart from the .Greek language.
The force of character, the will, and the action of Rome
were inseparably bound up with the Roman tongue. We
can not think of the contributions that these two nations
made to civilization as emanating from peoples who used
feeble or meagre languages. But this is not all: not only
must a great people live in a great language, but its language must be suited to its genius and life. Latin could
not have been the language of Greece, nor Greek the
language of Rome; and still less could Hebrew have been
the language of either. An Englishman can not grow up
in the French language, or a Frenchman in the English
language. Hebrew expresses the deep spiritual conceptions of Judea; Greek, the profound and subtle philosophical and resthetical ideas of Greece; Latin, the practical aims of Rome. German :fits the Germans, French the
French, English the English; and were the young of the
three nations changed at birth a transformation of inherited character would immediately begin. We need
not inquire more curiously into the relation existing between national character and language; it suffices us to
know that the interaction between the two is constant
and powerful. In a way, the national language is the
best metre of the national genius and character.
As with the nation, so with the individual. A great

14

*This fact Preyer rtlso distinctly recognises. The history of imbruted children furni shes " t he proof of the indispensableness of the
learning of language for the attainment of full intellectual activity
nml the developm ent of feeling by menns of learning to speak in
th e first years of li fe ; for they have almost all lost the ability to
frame thoughts t.hat go beyond the immediate surroundings, and
to ri se t o high er co11cepts-to th e high est reason." That the
"capacity which fil'st lends to human life its true worth is only
possible through the learning of langnage-and in fact of verbal
lang uage, not picture langunge or sign language, or any other
means of und erst.ancling-nobody clenies."-Mental Development in
the Child, p. 94.
t Logic, lecture viii.

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TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

THE VERNAUULAR.

man can not live in a small or a barren language; and if
he is compelled to make use of one that is below his purpose, as Dante in writing the Divina Com media, J erome
in translating the Bible into Latin,* or Luther in translating it in to German, he expands it and raises it to his
own level by forcing into it new content, and so giving it
a new rauk in the world. But even so much as this he
can not do unl ess the material is ready to bis hand. Emerson tells us that a man's power to connect his thought
with its proper symbol, and so to utter it, depends on the
simplicity of his character-" that is, his love of truth,
and his desire to communicate it without loss"; that
"the corruption of m:1n is followed by the corruption of
language " ; and th at "picturesque language is at once a
commanding certificate that he who employs it is a man
in alliance with trnth and God." t But this is only one
side of the shield; Lowell gives us the other side. "The
material of thought,'' says he, "reacts upon the thought
itself. Shakespeare himself would have been commonplace had he been paddocked in a thinly shaven vocabulary,
and Phidias, had he worked in wax, only a more improved
Mrs. Jarley."
Then a man's speech reflects not merely
his moods, as of thoughtfulness or passion, but also his
whole mental life. Thus language becomes, and particularly unpremeditated language, a measure of the man.
All in all, it is a better metre of his cultivation than his
manners. The dialect that the disciples of Jesus spoke
" betrayed" much more than that they were Galileans.
The correspondence is perfect between the mind of Mil-

ton, as erudite as poetic, and his diction ; while Shakespeare is no more masterful in thought, delineation, and
fancy than in vocabulary.
" What is that," asks Coleridge, "which first strikes
us, and strikes us at once, in a man of education, and
which, among educated men, so instantly distinguishes
the man of superior mind, that (as was observed with
eminent propriety of the late Edmund Burke) we can
not stand under the same archway during a shower of
i:ain without finding him out? Not the weight or novelty
of his remarks; not any unusual interest of facts communicated by him, etc. . . . It is the unpremeditated and
evidently habitual arrangement of his words, grounded on
the habit of foreseeing, in each integral part, or (more
plainly) in every sentence, the whole that he intends to
communicate. However irregular and desultory his talk,
there is method in the fragments."*
What has been said relates to vernacular languages.
The word is derived from vernaculus, which comes
again from verna, a slave born in his master's house ;
and it means the speech to which one is born and in
which he is reared-the patrius sermo of the Roman,
the Mutter Sprache of the German, the mother tongue of
the Englishman. Command of a noble vernacular involves the most valuable discipline and culture that a
man is capable of receiving. It conditions all other discipline and culture. Reference is not now made to its
scientific study, to its history and philology, its lexical
and grammatical elements; what is meant rather is the
man's growing up in the language, so to speak, and using
it for all the purposes of his mental life. The greatest
mental inheritance to which a German, a Frenchman, or

t

* See Dean J\Iilmrm on J erome's Bible, Latin Christianity, vol.
i, p. 2.
t Nature, chap. iv.
j: Books and Libraries, in Literary and Political Addresses.

*The Friend, section ii, Essay iv.

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TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

an Englishman is born is his native tongue, rich in the
knowledge and wisdom, the ideas and thoughts, the wit
and fancy, the sentiment and feeling, of a thousand years.
Nay, of more than a thousand years; for these languages
in their modern forms were -enriched by still earlier centuries. 'l'o come back to the old thought, such a speech
as one of these only flows out from such a life as it
expresses, and is in turn essential to the existence of
that life.
A man's lack of a cultivated language means one of
two things : either that his mental and moral life must
be confined and repressed, or that he must go abroad
in quest of what he can not find at home. Th e deepest
significance of the Renaissance is disclosed by the fact
that, in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, the minds
of men had awakened to the barrenness of the mental
waste about th em ; that they craved thought, sentiment,
and beauty, of which their own tongues were destitute;
and that they resorted to the Greek and Latin classics,
which were at tl:at time practically restored to the world.
'l'he weakest side of the Renaissance as an intellectual
movement was, that it cou ld not in any case be really national. Scholars might be developed and sustained on the
old literatures, but not the people. However it may be
with epicures, the common man-can not subsist on exotic
fruits. There is no example in history of a powerful national mental and moral life, unless it grows out of avernacular culture and is supported by it. Witness the Jews,
the Greeks, and the Romans.
What has been said leads up to our main topic. This is,
the vernacular as an instrument of education. A learned
Scotch writer contends that the study of the vernacular
"is, and must always be, the supreme object in the education of a human being, the centre around which all other

THE VERNACULAR.

19

educational agencies ought to arrange themselves in due
subordination." The one argument that he presses, somewhat abridged, runs as follows:
Mind grows only in so far as it finds expression for
itself; and this it can not find in a foreign tongue. It is
round the language learned at the mother's knee that the
whole life of feeling, emotion, and thought gathers. If
it were possible for a child or boy to live in two languages
at ·once equally well, so much the worse ; his intellectual
and spiritual growth would not be doubled but halved.
Unity of mind and of character would have great difficulty
in -asserting itself. Language is at best only symbolic of ·
the world of consciousness, and nearly every word is rich
in unexpressed associationa of life-experience, which gives
- it its full value for the life of mind. Subtilties, delicacies,
and refinements of feeling and perception are only indicated by words ; the rest lies deep in our conscious or unconscious life, and is the source of the tone and colour of
language. Words, accordingly, must be steeped in life to
be living; and as we have not two lives, but only one, so
we have only one language. To the mother tongue, then,
all other languages we acquire are merely subsidiary; and
their chief value in the education of youth is that they
help to bring into relief for us the character of our own
language as a logical medium of thinking, or help us to
understand it as thought, or to feel it as literary art.*
An able American scholar, profoundly realizing the
dependence of solid cultivation upon the national tongue,
forcibly argues that this dependence must find larger
recognition in our scheme of education. The following
is also somewhat abridged :
*-Prof. S. S. Laurie : Lectures on Language and Linguistic
Method in the School, pp. 18, 19, second edition.

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TEAC IIING TIIE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

Education, he contends, is more than mental discipline ; it is a process of nutrition. Mind grows by what
it feeds on, and, like the body, must have sui table and
appropriate nourishment. Intellect is only one function
of the mind ; feelin g and volition are co-present and coessential. A nd these three are one mincl. The pre-eminence of literature as educative material is due to the fact
that, coming as poetry especially does from the intellectual
and emotional depths of creatiYe genius, it awakens, nourishes, and calls in to activity the corresponding potencies
of those who are touched by its influ ence. Then language
is th e sole universal in the life of man. Language and
literature are more than liberalizing, they are humanizing
studies. Through the hum ani ty in them we realize our
own individual human capacities. The language and literature that best serve this end are our own. Consequently, the vernacular is the beginning and the end of a liberal
education. The Greeks, to whom we owe our ideal of
culture, knew no language but their own; but the minds
of Greek schoolboys were steeped in th eir own noble literature. F or our youth t he essential ancl indispensable element in a generou s culture is the English language and
literature. But the best results in the teaching of English
in high schools can n ot be secured without the aid given
by the study of som e other language, which, in the opinion of all experts, shonlcl be Latin or a modern tongue.
This re-enforces the humanistic starting-point, which is
of the utmost importance. From the vernacular as a centre the entire scheme of secondary education must be, and
in due time will be, evolved.*

* Dr. J. G. Schurman: The School Review, vol. ii., pp. 93, 94.

OHAP'rER IV.
THE WORK OF THE ELEMENT.A.RY SCHOOL.
WHEN a child .first reaches the schoolhouse, say at
the age of six years, he has already acquired two invaluable ,m ental possessions. These are:1. A store of facts, ideas, and images-that is, of
knowledge ; or, to spel!-k in terms of power rather than
of attainment, the child has reached a certain stage of
mental growth or expansion; he has a .certain procreative
mental power.
~
2. A store of language capable of expressing measurably these ideas, facts, an-1 images; or, to adopt the other
form of expression, the child is able to clothe the children
of his mind in an appropriate garb of speech.
These two facts stand in a certain relation to each
other; they are in a sense only aspects of one and the
same fact, as was stated in general terms in the last
chapter. · As a rule, however, mental' power is in excess of
linguistic power. Professor Preyer declares that "the
newborn human being brings with him into the world far
more intellect than talent for language,''* and it i~ probable that, as a rule, intellect maintains this primitive advantage. Just as the child's physical strength is in excess of his power to walk until he has found his legs, so
his intellectual strength is in excess of his power to talk

* The Development of the Intellect,
4

21

p. 33.

,

22

TEA.CUING THE LANGUAGE- ARTS.

until he has found his tongue. Both walking and talking are habits or arts to be acquired. While it is true,
as the writer just quoted says, that it was not language
which generated the intellect, but rather the intellect
which invented speech, it is still true that practically the
two elements are inseparably connected, and thus either
element may be roughly measured in terms of the
other.
The two main facts now stated are t}le roots from
which the child's school culture is to spring. The teacher,
as she meets the new pupil at the schoolroom door,
faces therefore a twofold work.
1. She must strive to enlarge and clarify the child's
mental store, rendering his ideas, facts, and thoughts
more precise and definite, as well as more full and varied.
She is to enlarge the quantity and improve the quality of
what the child knows; or, to speak in terms of power
again, she is to stimulate and direct the growth or expansion of his mind. Under this h ead the teaching ~f
all studies, or subjects proper, falls, no matter what their
names or character.
2. She must put him in possession of the elementary
school arts, as previously explained-what are sometimes
called the instrumental studies. In particular-and for
our purpose this is the main point--she must strive to
enlarge and improve his language ; enlarge it by expanding his vocabulary, improve it by rendering his use of
language more clear and definite. This requirement will
include not merely oral speech, but also reading and composition, or all the language-arts. Professor Laurie says
our business as educators is to give to the child's "words
definite and clear significations, and to help the child in
adding to his stock; for, in adding to his stock of understood words, we add to his stock of understood things,

.•

THE WOl{K OF THE ELEMENTARY SCHOOL.

23

and, consequently, to his material for thought and the
growth of the fabric of his .mind."*
The earnest teacher who assays this two-sided task is
at once confronted by the question of method. Under
either head she ask~, "Where shall I begin?" and "How
, shall I proceed?" These questions she can not intelligently answer until she has carefully studied the child's
previous mental life. Entering upon i;;nch study, she encounters new questions, viz., "How has the child acquired
the knowledge that he possesses already?" and " How has
he learned the language that he habitually uses in the expression of his thought and feeling?" The answers to
these que!l,tions will determine in a general way, for the
time being, the method of the school ; for the very obvious reason that, unless the school preserves the essential
continuity of the child's mental life, it will fail to accomplish its object. As the child has been learning,
whether knowledge or language, so in the main must he
contt:nue to learn. This is the method of Na tu re. Answers
to our two questions will furnish matter for the two ensuing chapters. First, however, an additional observa.tion.
Closely connected as thought and language are, either
one may be developed somewhat in disproportion to the
other. This fact is popularly recogniseCl in such expressions as that "A knows more than he can tell," while
"B can tell more than he knows." The wise teacher will
not fall into the very common mistake of neglecting
either of the two elements. Good teaching of subjectmatter enlarges the use of language, and good teaching
of language enlarges subject-matter. In teaching reading a mistake has sometimes been made. Two little attention has been paid to thought-material and too much

* Pagc 29.

24

'l'EACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

attention to words and expression. At the present time
there is, in some quarters, a tendency to slight the arts of
expression and, relatively, to exaggerate thought-material.
In the unfolding of the mind intellect precedes language,
as we have seen; but language reacts upon intellect to
such an extent that its large cultivation is essential to
large mental growth. To cultivate expression is to cultivate mind. In the elementary school the two lin es of
work should be co-ordinate. To neglect either is to go
counter to the teachings of psychology, and to court failure in the end.
NoTE.-Prof. Laurie, in the first edition of his Lect.ures on Language and Linguistic Method in the School (page 23), after re-.
markin g that the child's range of language up to the eighth year is
very small, said that be was probably confined to not more than
150 words. In the second edition (page 28) be makes the number not
more than 200 or 300 words. Even the second number is no doubt
too small. Mr. Albert Salisbury, of the State Norm·a1 School,
Whitewater, Wisconsin, reports a child that at the age of thirty-two
months had by actual count a vocabulary of 642 words, and at the
age of five and a half ye::trs a vocabulary of 1,529 word s. The
t wo vocabu laries are as follows at the two periods, distributed with
reference to p::trts of speech : Nouns, 350 and 885 ; pronouns, 24 and
22; verbs, 150 and 321; ad jectives, 60 and 236; ad verbs, 32 and 40;
preposi tions, 17 ttml 20 ; conjunctions, 4 and 5; interjections, 5 and
1 ; participles and inflected forms in general except prono_un s were
not counted. "It will be observed," says Mr. Salisbury," that, with
an apparent shrinkage in his use of pronouns and interjections, there
was an immense increase in his use of nouns and adjectives, verbs
coming third in the order of t he increase." Of the second list he
says, furth er, that it was composed of words not merely understood,
but of words ac tuall y and spontaneously used by the child, and
that it certainly unclcrestimated his working vocabulary.-(Educational Review, March, 1894, pp. 289, 290.)
Prof. llfax .l\Ilillcr states, on tho authority of an English country clergyman, that some of the labourers in his parish had not
300 wonls in tlwir ,·ocabulury; that the vocubulury of tho ancient

THE WORK OF THE ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS. 25
sages of Egypt, as far as it is known from the hieroglyphic inscriptions, amounts to about 685 words; that the libretto of an ltalitm
opera seldom displays a greater variety; that a well-educated person in England, who has been at a public school and at the university, who reads his Bible, his Shakespeare, the 'l'imes, and all the
books of Mudie's Library, seldom uses more than about 3,000 or
4,000 words in actual conversation; that accurate thinkers and
close reasoners, who wait until they find the word that exactly fits
their meaning, employ a larger stock; and that eloquent speakers
may rise to a command of 10,000. "Shakespeare, who displayed a
greater variety of expression than probably any writer in any language, produced all his plays with about 15,000 words. Milton's
works are built up with 8,000; and the Old Testament says all t~at
it has to say with 5,642 words."-(The Science of Language, pp. 266,
267:) "But a contributor to Cassell's Saturday Journal," says the
London Daily News, "has been at considerable pains to check these
(Miiller's) theories, and the conclusion that be arrives at is that the
figures given are too small. Farm hands, he finds, are able to name
all the common objects of the farm, ancl to do this involves the use
of more than the entire number of 300 words allotted to them.
Then, by going through a dictionary, and excluding compound
worcls or words not in pretty constant use, he found that there were
under the letter 's' alone 1,018 worcls that are to be founu in ordinary people's vocabulary. It would be nearer the. truth, we are
told, to say that the agricultural labourer uses 1,500 more, and that
intelligent farm hands and artisans command 4,000 words, while
educated people have at call from 8,000 .to 10,000. .Tournalists are
credited with 12,000."

THE ORIGIN OF THE CHIJ,D'S KNOWLEDGE.

OIIAPTER V.
TII E ORI GIN OF THE CHILD'S KNOWLE DGE.
WITH all their divergencies of view, the psychologists
are happily agreed on the one fundamental question of
the origin and nature of our earliest knowledge. Let us
run over the principal facts that are to be considered in
studying that subj ect.
The first of these facts is the mind. The mind is
capable of activity, of self-activity, and this is its characteristic attribute; through activity it grows, increases,
enlarges ; furth ermore, while the mind is one and has no
parts, it is capable of acting in several different spheres,
or of having a variety of experien ces, and, through these
activities and experiences, its powers or faculties are developed. This enlargement or increase of the mind we
nam e education. Still another fact in relation to the
mind is that it grows only tl1rongh its own activi~y. Once
more, the mind can not act, and so can not enlarge or become educated, if it is left isolated. Its primal activity
is depend ent absolutely upon something external to itself.
Accordingly, the second fundamental fact in knowing
is some object or thing other than mind. In general
we may call this Na tu re. It is Nature that first sets the
mind in motion, and so incites its growth or education;
it is Nature that first stimulates us to know, to feel, and
to choose. Afterward the mind's own states and affec-

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27

tions act in the same way; but this comes only in the
period of introspection or self-consciousness, and doe_s not
lie within the scope of the present survey. But, thHdly,
Nature and the mind must be in relation one to the other.
Until real contact is established, there is no mental activity and so no knowledge or education; but the moment it is established activity begins, and knowledge and
education take their rise. Knowledge is, in fact, nothing
but a relation between the knowing power and the known
object. Properly speaking, it has no exist~nce outsi~e ~f
the mind ; it is a continuing state of mmd; that is, if
minds should cease to know, knowledge would cease to
-exist. We do indeed assign to knowledge an objective
existence, as when we speak of the knowledge that is stored
up in books and libraries. With that phase of the subject we shall deal hereafter; here it is su~ci_ent to say
that what books ancl libraries do really contam is the symbols of knowledge-mere transcripts or copies of the
world or of the mind as the authors of books have seen
the world and mind-and that they are meaningless until
the~ are converted into reality by. the reader's ~~n ac-_
tivity. Letters and books to a child, or to an illiterate
person are nothing but things, like stocks and stones.
Th~ education of the human race began with the establishment of contact between mind on the one side an~
the facts of Nature and of society on the other. The direct contact of mind with mind is also involved. This
primal knowledge and discipline was soon re-enforced
from another source. As soon as men began to observe,
to think, and remember-that is, to accumulate experience-they began to impart what they had learned ~o
one another. They began to communicate. Parents m
particular communicated to their children. In the
primal sense of the word that was the beginning, not

28

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TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

THE ORIGIN OF THE CHILD'S KNOWLEDGE.

strictly of education, but of teaching. One generation
told what it knew to the generation following. Thus
arose tradition, the oral delivery from man to man and
from age to age of a store of accumulated experience;
tradition, which has exerted, and still exerts, an incalculable influence upon the affairs of men. It is a channel of
communication, a means of teaching. It does not stand
tor first-h and or original knowledge, but for second-hand
or derivative knowledge; or, to put the thought in another form, what one learns in this way he does not know
throu gh the exercise of his own faculties of observation
and reflection, but through the exercise of the faculties
of reception and retention. The establishment of contact between men's minds and this second form of knowledge was the second step in the education of the race.
However, this relation can not be artificial or mechanical,
but must be real and vital, as before. It is as necessary
for one to use his mi"nd in order to understand what another has seen, heard, or thought, as it is to understand
things at first hand, and often even more necessary. The
medium of tradi tion is oral language, assisted by signs
and gestures ; and this brings ~s back again, and from a
n ew angle, to the relation that' exists between language
and mental cultivation.
The foregoing sun-ey covers the whole field of race
education previous to the invention of some kind of
writing-either pictures, words, or letters. There has
been some discussion of the question how far the individual repeats the history of the race. He certainly
takes, and in the same order, all the steps that have been
enumerated. The boy of six years of age has a store of
ideas that may be grouped as follows :1. Ideas of the natural world about him, or of senseobjects. These ideas are simple, particular, concrete,

and have been formed by the familiar processes of senseperception. Furthermore, as children differ in natural
environment, so they differ in ideas. The mental store
of the city boy differs from that of the country boy.
2. Ideas of the social world. These ideas also are
simple and concrete, formed by sense-perception. They
are ideas both of persons and of acts, and they are dependent upon environment, as before.
'rhese two groups of ideas are the first that the child
forms, and they condition all his later knowledge. He
forms them himself, at first hand; for in this sphere all
that' the parent, nurse, or other person can do for the
chiid, at first, is merely to bring facts into relation to
his senses, which forms a sort of rudimentary teaching.
In a true sense, therefore, the child is an original investigator of the world about him, prying into it with all the
·
organs at his command.
3. Abstract or general ideas. These are notions or
concepts, pale and shadowy indeed, but still the germs of
all scientific thought. Concept-making is later than percept-making, but follows close upon it. Here are brought
into play not merely observation, but analysis, comparison,
abstraction, and generalization. The child learns the difference between "mamma" and "woman,'' and the use of
the plural number; he enters into the sphere of relations
that distinguish, in simple cases, cause and effect. These
general ideas relate to the social sphere as well as to Nature;
for, notwithstanding their greater abstractness, the normally trained child early begins to form the notions conveyed
by the words "command,'' "rule,'' "law," "authority,"
"control," and "government." Although not self-conscious, the normal child, long before he reaches the schoolhouse, has learned the use of "I" and "me,'' or has learned
to discriminate between himself and the world about him.

31

TEACfllNG THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

THE ORIGIN OF THE CHILD'S KNOWLEDGE.

4. Judgments and inferences. Judgment or comparison is involved in the formation of both percepts and concepts, and also of inferences. Still, it is proper to mention them particularly as constituting thinking proper.
Professor Preyer's boy was twenty-three months old when
he uttered his first spoken judgment, Heiss-that is,
"This food is too hot." Add inference to judgment,
and you have reasoned knowledge.
In his first thinking, the child uses only the materials
furnished by perception. The first subject-matter upon
which he exercises his faculties comes from his own experience. llis concepts, judgments, and inferences are in
this respect strictly limited. He can not, in fact, be
taught to think any more than he can be taught to see,
to bear, or to smell. All that can be done for him in
this regard must be indirect. A normal mind, when
it comes into relation with an appropriate obj ect, perceives or thinks, just as spontaneously as a normal finger
smarts when thrust into the flame of a lamp. At first
the mental processes are not volitional, but automatic;
afterward, the will appears, and finally assumes definite
control of the regulated mind. The child is an original
thinker, as he is an original observer. With slight change
of words, what Emerson says of Nature is equally true of
society: "Nature is a discipline of the understanding in
intellectual truths. Our dealing with sensible objects is
a constant exercise in the necessary lessons of difference,
of likeness, of order, of being and seeming, of progressive
arrangement; of ascent from particular to general; of
combination to one end of manifold forces . . . . What
tedious training, day after day, year after year, never ending, to form the common sense."*

Still, too much emphasis is often placed on the senseelements-at least, in the more advanced stages of education. It is not at all necessary for each man to repeat in
all particulars the experience of the race. To do so,
under existin<Y
conditions, is, in fact, impossible;
but
b
.
even if it were possible, such a procedure would mvolve
great loss of time and energy. The current maxim,
"Never teach the child anything that he can find out
himself," contains as much error as truth. In respect to
many things, Roger Ascharn's observation, "Learning
teacheth more in one year than experience in twenty,"
is just as true as the converse would be in respect to
other things. At first, all the elements of knowledge are
sense-elements, concrete and particular; on these our earliest use of language rests, and they form the basis of all
our knowledge ; but as the child ascends the educational
ladder, the abstract, the general, and the ideal elements
will become more and more prominent.
The present purpose is not to inventory the child's
ideas 011 his arrival at the school,. but__only to classify
them. To inventory them would be impossibT~, since his
knowledge is a variable quantity. His mind already acts
in every sphere in which it is capable of acting, bnt with
different degrees of power. His perceptive knowledge
far exceeds his reflective knowledge; the field that he
has made most thoroughly his own is the material world,
and after that the social world. The value of what he has
already acquired can not be overestimated, meagre as it
may seem; for this knowledge, through apperception, will
exercise the profoundest influence upon his whole future
life. Still further, these first steps .in the path of knowledge are as difficult as they are important. We take these
steps when we are too young either to appreciate their
difficulty or to remember them. However, observation of

30

*Nature, chap. v.

' •
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...

·!

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TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

the child-life must convince us that they are the shortest
as well as the most difficult steps that we ever take in
the path of knowledge.
5. But the enumeration of the sources of knowledge
is not yet complete. The child of six has been brought
into contact with the stream of tradition as well as with
Nature and the social world. A parent teaches his child
through explanations, descriptions, and stories, as well as
by putting sense-obj ects and his own conduct or behaviour
in the child's way. This verbal or secondary knowledge
the child receives by the help of his primal or original
knowledge. The ideas, images, and thoughts that he has
formed by using his mind on real objects interpret to him ·
the ideas, images, and thoughts conveyed by words. At
first a word or sentence is nothing more to him than any
other sound. Time, or rather experience, makes the word
or sentence significant, and experience only. The cultivation that comes from Nature and man must precede
the cultivation that comes from spoken language as well
as the cultivation that comes from books and literature.
Here our survey may close; for it will be better to
deal with the book when the child enters the schoolhouse. And still the remark may be added that no attempt has been made sharply to discriminate time-relations in the sequence of the child's knowledge. It is
enough for the teacher to know that when the child
reaches the school his knowledge is rapidly . increasing
and his mind growing in all the ways and directions that
have been enumerated.

CHAPTER VI.
THE ORIGIN. OF THE CHILD'S LANGUAGE.

.(

I

}

As previously stated, the second duty of the teacher
is to enlarge and improve the child's use .of langu.age;
enlarge it by expanding his vocabulary, and 11_Ilprove it by
rendering his use of words more clear, de:fimte, and precise. Neither of these things can the teacher accomplish without paying good heed to the steps by :Vhich .the
child's speech has been formed. For thorough mv~stiga­
tion of the c;ubject, physiologically and psychologically,
the reader is referred to the appropriate sources; an outline only is called for in this place.
J
At birth a child has an instinctive vocal utterance,
which is constantly enlarged by exercise. "There is the
same spontaneous apprenticeship," says M. 'raine, "for
cries as for movements. The progress of the vocal organs
goes on just like that of the limbs; the chil~ learns to
emit such or such a sound as it learns to turn its head or
its eyes-that is to say, by gropings and constant attempts."* The infant's first instinctive uttera.nces are
purely reflexive, and mean no more than the qmver of a
nerve or the contraction of a muscle; of thought, they
are as devoid as the gurgling of water when it issues from
the bung of a barrel. Still, these utterances are the raw
*On the Acquisition of Language by Children, Mind, vol. ii,
p. 252.

33

34

TEACIIING THE LA NGUAGE- ARTS.

materials of speech, as sense-impressions are the raw materials of i<l eas. They arc not language save in the
most indefinite sense, but they are a con tribution that
h eredity makes to the formation of language. 'l'bey are
correlated with physical states; thus, a live coal dropped
on an infant's hand will cause it not only to move its
hand, but also to cry out. So far the human infant does
n ot differ from the brute infant, except that it has a
greater range of utterance.
In due time the infant begins to use his voice to express mental states, By experience he learns that certain
sounds which he hears convey meanings, and in th e same
way he learns to make sounds in order to convey his own
meanings. He signals that he is in pain, or that he is in
want of food. Slowly but surely vocal utterance becomes
correlated with perception, judgment, feeling, and desire.
It is at this stage that the will enters the field of activity.
"Every expression of thought,'' says Mr. Tracy, "whether
it be word or mark or gesture, is the result of ~iu actire
will, and as such may be classed among movements."*
Still, the first volitional expressions do not appear to be
significant; they are mere vocal experiments. By this time
consornmts have been added to vowels, and sound s have
?ecome a_rticulate. The result at twelve months of age
m the child whom he observed, M. Taine called "twittering." "She takes delight in her twitter like a bird, she
se~ms ~o smile wi_th joy over it, but as yet it is only the
tw1ttermg of a bird, for she attaches no meanin()'
to the
b
sounds she utters. Sl1e has learned only the materials of
language." t Even more, the first words that are uttered
are meaningless; they are not associated with any object
*Th e P Bychology of Childhoocl, p. 115, seconcl edition.
t Mi11cl, vol. ii, p. 252.
'

THE ORIGIN OF THE CHILD'S LANGUAGE.

35

that marks the advent of proper language; so that the
child's first word, which is bailed with rso much interest
by fond parents, brothers, and sisters, is important as a
promise rather than as an achievement.
The next step is the use of words with meanings. With
the expression of ideas, feelings, and wants in articulate
words, proper la. \guage begins. H ere the human infant
parts company for good with the brute infant. Th e
oaths of poor Poll, being purely mechanical, are not accounted profanity. From this time on the knowledge
and the language of the normal child in general march together pari passu; knowledge advancing to the fnrtb est
reach of thought and the loftiest creations of the imagination, language advancing to the fit expression of all that
thought can think or imagination picture. H ere ~ are
brought back again to the correlation of the two factors.
The child's mental development' is measured approximately by the rapidity of his progress toward a skilful
. manipulation of the instruments of expression; on the
other band, thought itself attains to generality through
the aid of language.
Sllch, in outline, appears to be the process by which
the instinctive vocal utterance of the infant is transform ed
into the vernacular speech of the youth and the adult.
Still, this transformation would never be effected without
the intervention of agents yet to be mentioned. These
must be enumerated.
The first of these agents is instinctive mimicry; the
child unconsciously imitates the sounds that ·he hears.
'I'he second agent is conscious mimicry ; the child
intentionally imitates or reproduces sounds that
he bas
/
heard. Imitation begins before the child has made discovery of the fact that sounds convey meanings, and it is
accelerated when that discovery is made. Ju st as 'the

36

TEACIIING TFIE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

discovery of the uses of walking re-enforces the child's disposition to use his legs that results from the pleasure of
activity, so the discovery of the significance of sounds
stimulates the desire to make them. The proces~ of correlating states of mind and sounds, as words, is a slow one,
but it is greatly facilitated by the pleasure that the child
finds in mere vocal experimentation. It may also be
observed that the difficulty of making this correlationthat is, of associating meanings with sounds-has a moral
as well as an intellectual bearing.*
Imitation explains the utterance of words by the child
without meaning. It is a habit that the child begins,
and that the a9ult, with less excuse, continues. M. Taine
wrote of the child that he studied, when she was about
fifteen months old : "'Papa' was pronounced for more
than a fortnight unintentionally and without meaning, as
a mere twitter, an easy and amusing articulation. It was
*This point is thus touched by Jean Paul in a passage quoted
by Radestock (Habit, page 84): •·In the first five years our children
say no true word and no lying one; they only talk. 'rheir speaking is a loud thinking; but as often one half of the thought is Yes
and the other No, and they, unlike us, utter both; they appear to
lie, while they only speak to themselves. Furthermore, they enjoy
playing with the art of speech new to them ; thus they often speak
nonsense, only to listen to their own knowle<lge of language." This
may be somewhat exaggerated, but is true in the main. We are so
in the habit of attributing ethical significance to language, that it
is hrird for us to appreciate the difficulty with which that association is practically established. At first the child has no more
idea of telling the truth with his tongue than he has of telling
it with his eyelids or toes. As J ean Paul says, the organs of sperch
are things to play with like the other organs of the body. The
ide.a that there is a special relation existing between speech and
veracity, that by our words we are justified and by our own words
conclemnc<l, comes with the development of speech and of the .
moral sense.

I

THE ORIGIN OF THE CHILD'S LANGUAGE.

37

later that the association between the word and the image
or perception of the object was fixed, that the image or
perception: of her father called to her lips the sound papa,
that the word uttered by another definitely and regularly
called up in her the remembrance, image, expectation of,
and search for, her father. There was an insensible transition from the one state to the other, which it is difficult
to unravel. The first state still returns at certain times,
though the second is established ; she still sometimes
plays with the sound, though she understands its meaning."*
Father, mother, sister, brother, nurse, and other members of the child's social circle act upon tile child in two
ways, unconsciously and consciously ; in both ways they
set him copies or models and constantly stimulate his
activity. Thus the members of the family become his
teachers ; commonly they are as anxious to teach as the
child is to learn; · but, whether anxious to teach or rrot
they do teach constantly, both by setting copies and b;
furnishing stimulus to talk. "Baby say so!" with an
appropriate illustration, is a constant exhortation that answers both purposes.
"
Instinctive vocal utterance is the first contribution, and
the power of imitation the second contribution, that Nature makes to speech. Given instinctive utterance it is
imitation that makes speech education possible.
'
" It is obvious at a glance," says Mr. Tracy, "that
speech is a product of the conjoint operation of these two
factors: heredity and education. If, on the one hand, we
observe the initial babbling of the infant, and notice ittl
marvellous flexibility, and the enormous variety of its intonations and inflections-and this at an age so early as

* Mind, vol. ii, p. 254.

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

THE ORIGIN OF THE CHILD'S LANGUAGE.

to preclude observation and imitation of others,-it will
be apparent that the child has com~ into the wo.rld already possessing a considerable portion o~ the ~qmpme~t
by which he shall in after-years give expression to his
feelings and thoughts. If, on the other hand, w~ .c~r.e­
fully observe him during the first two years of his life,
and note how the intonations, and afterward the words,
of those by whom he is surrounded are given back by
him-at first unconsciously, but afterwards with intention
-and how, when conscious imitation has once set in, it
plays thenceforth the predominating role, we s~all readily
believe that, without this second factor, but little progress would be made toward speech acquirement."*
Nature, then, supplies the instinctive tendency and capacity to speak, and also the power that moul~s the mind
and the vocal organs according to the convent10nal standard of speech. At what time the child begi~s to p~r­
ceive that sounds convey meanings, and accordingly tnes
to talk, it is hard to say, but mere love of imitation is an
earlier impulse. t

Let it be remembered that in the early process of
speech education imitation is the master agent, indeed
the sole agent. · It determines (1) whether the child shall
\ talk like a man, howl like a wolf, growl like a bear, or
bark like a dog; (2) whether he shall speak the English,.
the French, or some other language ; and (3) whether he
shall speak this language with purity and propriety, or
with dialectical, provincial, or family peculiarities of
form, pronunciation, or accent. The boy was right who
gave as a reason for drawling his words, "Mother-d~awls
-hern." The normal child who is accustomed to good
English and nothing else, uses good English. 'rhe man
w110 " talks like a book " ·is the man who has been
moulded by book language. Thus, a man's language is a
measure of the company he has kept, as well as of himself. His speech shows the quality of his home and his
social surroundings. Perhaps a child has an inherited
tendency to the language of his country or his family, as
the German to German, the Frenchman to French, but if
suoh be the fact imitation easily overcomes the tendency.
Speech, therefore, is eminently a social phenomenon.
" Language is possible in all normal children," says Mr.
Tracy ; "it becomes actual only in the presence of a companion. But given the companion, and scarcely any
limit can be set to the possibilities of development."*
However, the companionship m~st be a real one. The
reason why the child born deaf is also born mute is not
because he is destitute of instinctive utterance, but be-

38

*The Psychology of Childhood, p. 116.
t Mr. Darwin says the sounds uttered by birds offer in several
aspects th e nearest analogy to language; all the m e~bers of t~e same species utter the same instinctive cries expressive of their
emotions; and all the kinds that have the power of singing exert
this power instinctively; but the actual song, and even the callnotes, are learn ed from their parents or foster-parents. These
sounds are no more innate than language is in man. The first attempt to sing mn,y be compared to the imperfect endeavour in a
child to bahble. The young males continue prnctising for ten or
eleven months. Their first essays show hardly a rudiment of the
future song ; bnt as they grow older we can _perceive what they
are aiming at; and at last they are said "to sing their song round."
Nestlings that have learned the songs of a distant species, 1:8
with the canary birds educated in ' the Tyrol, teach and transmit

39

;

their new song to their offspring. The slight natural differences
.of song in the same species inhabiting different districts may be
appositely compared to provincial dialects; and the songs of allied
though distinct species may be compared with the language of distant races of men.- The Descent of Man, vol. i, pp. 53, 54.
* The Psychology of Childhood, p. 118.

THE ORIGIN OF THE CHILD'S L ANGUAGE.

TEACillNG THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

40

. ·tate sounds. when he does learn to
and imitating the motions

~:~:~ i~:~:~ ~~! ~;~vatching

of another's lips. .
l . f
d no trace of rule or forIn this analysis we 1a>e oun
either rule nor
th d As far as we have gone, n
mal me o .
<
art whatever in the process.
t ·1d receives much correction,
method .has played
In learnmg to talk, e c 1
le or copy. use and
ts H e follows examp
·
but nodpr;lce~v~rk. While it is impossible nicely to as.
. . .
its own due effect,
wont o rn
.
t eith er kmd of im1tat10n
d
that we constantly ten
sign o
.
.
we hazard n othing m saymg_
· t " ctive eleto underestimate the unconsciousness or ms m

::y

ment.
. l th b"ld's vernacular speech results from
t"
It rows with his
Accordrng y, .e c. 1 .
the training of an mstmcti:~f~~c ~o:~gth g It is part and
growth and strengthensdw1th istserr and .perhaps of his
f ·
· d an c arac ,
parc~l o 11is ~it~
It is woven into the very texture of
hys1cal orgamza ion.
·
h" as
b .
It is his linguistic integument, fittmg im d
'.s erng. . -·
Moreover, it must be expanded an
mcely as his skrn. . ·1 to that in which it was formed.
h
ated in a way simi ar
ren ov
l
ff l . linguistic habit and put on anot er
.
a coat H e must
One can not ay o 11s
that is more to his liking, as he m~y
. l
h 't
't ff
the stag grows off bis horns ; s oug i '
grow i o k' as l ghs bis skin. And yet, as we shall sec
as the sna e s ou
..
h ereafter, criticism will fac1htate th e process.
.

h·

the ftin ction of imitation m
1
NoTE.-The ancients c~:~~~ ssa:e to the su.bject, discussing the
education. Plato d~votes . , l p
ge music painting, science,
,
..
f . "tation m dancrng, angua '
office o 1m1
.
.
. n of the character itself (Laws. 11.
literary style, and m the fo1mat10
bl' ... 393 394). Xen493 496 427. Repu IC, m,
'
655, 668; Craty I us'. ~ , ~ '. i tation holding virtually that it is
op hon also lays_st1ess upon imh hilrlren behaviour and mann ers
th e most effective w.ay t.o tead~ c
the relation of mim esis to
]'
· 9)
Aristotle 1scusses
h
(Cyropaic i:.i,. I, .~ .
,
. .
. 1 23). Aristotle also en joins t e
art (Rhclonc, i, 11 ; I oh t 1cs, i, '

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directors of education to be careful what tales or stories children
hear, and also to see that they are left as little as possible with slaves
(Politics, vii, 17). The Gre~ks were very particular about the language that their children acquired through personal contact with
others (see Mahaffy: Old Greek Education, p. 13). Plutarch, in his
well-known essay entitled Of the Training of Children, urges that
the companions of children shall be well bred and shall speak plain,
natural Greek, "lest, being constantly used to converse with persons
of a barbarous language and evil manners, they receive corrupt tinctures from them. For it is a true proverb' that if you live with a
lam~ man you will learn to halt.'" Of all the writers of antiquity
who touch the subject of education, Quintilian most abounds in
practical thoughts. H e understood perfec tly the part that imitation plays in the language-arts. He laid stress upon the function
of ·the nurse. Before all things let the talk of the child's nurse not
be ungrammatical. To the morals of nurses, doubtless, attention
should first be paid ; " but let them also speak with propriety. It
is they that the child will hear first ; it is their words that he will
try to form by imitation. We are by nature most tenacious of what
we have imbibed in our infant years, as the flavour with which you
scent vessels when new remains in them; nor can the colours of
wool, for which its plain whiteness has been exchanged, b e effaced :
and those very habits which are of a more objectionable nature
adhere with the greater tenacity; for good ones are easily change<l
for the worse, but when will you change bad ones into the good 'I
Let the child not be accustomed, therefore, even while he is yet an
infant, to phraseology which must be unlearned.'' -(Institutes of Oratory, i, 1, 15, Watson's translation). As to the parents, Quintilian
would by all means have them persons of learning; as to the playfellows and companions of young gentlemen, he made the same
recommendations as concerning nurses. The Roman professor fully
recognised the fact th&t correction and criticism were second to imitation.
Roger Ascham says:"Imitation is a facultie to expresse liuelie and perfitelie that
example: which ye go about to follow. And of it selfe, it is large
and wide: for all the workes of nature, in a mann er be examples
for arte to follow.
"But to our purpose, all languages, both learned and mother
tonges, be gotten, and gotten onlie by imitation. For as ye vse to
'·
:y-

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TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

heare, so ye learn e to speake: if ye heare no other, ye speake not
your selfe : and whomc ye onlie heare, of them ye onlie learne.
" And, th erefore, if ye would speake as the best and wisest do,
ye must be conuersant, where the best and wisest are : but if you be
borne or brought up in a rude countrie, ye shall not chose but
spe1ike rudelie : th e rudest nmn of all knoweth thls to be trcwc."(The ::icholcmaster.)

CHAPTER VII.
THE LANGUAGE-ARTS IN THE LOWER GRADES.

T--0 adopt Professor Laurie's admirable analysis, language may be studied under three aspects, as follows :1. As the substance of thought. 'rhis means the content or meaning of language, a.n d relates, of course, to its
characteristic function. 'l'his' aspect of language is universal, but there is no particular study that deals with it.
2. As the form of thought. This means the reflexive
study of language; the study, not of the substance that
the language conveys as a vehicle, but of the vehicle itself.
'rhis aspect of language is called grammar, and its educational value will be explained hereafter.
3. As an art. This means literature as such, or li~er­
ary art. There is no formal study that is coextensive
with this aspect of language, but it is included in oosthetics, or what Lord Karnes called "criticism." Here we
deal with the ideal elements of language.
Thus language is a real study, a formal study, and an
art study. As" s1ibstance of thought," says Laurie," language instructs and fills the mind of youth with the words ,
of wisdom, with the material of knowledge, and guides it to
the meaning and motives of a rational existence, and while
doing all this it at the same time trains the intelligence :
as a formal study, it further disciplin es the intelligence,
and gives vigour and discriminative forde to intellectual
43

44

TEACIIING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

operations in all the relations of the human mind to
things, and therefore to the conduct of life: as z.iterature,
. . . language cultivates, by opening the mind to a perception of the beautiful in form and the ideal in thought
and action. It does this by bringing the prosaic truths
of goodness and duty into the sphere of the idea, and so
evoking and directing those aspirations, inherent in reason, which find their highest expression in spiritual realities." *
It will be seen th at literature, properly so called, is
something wholly different from the grammatical structure of language, and in great part different also from its
concrete substance. Literature and language, or rather
literature and printed language, are by no means coextensive. This third aspect of the subject, the msthetic
one, will claim our attention in a later chapter.
Now, it is perfectly evident that in the first stage of
school life the child can do nothing with language as the
form of thought or as beauty of expression. He can not
enter upon grammar or upon literary art. But with language as substance of thought, or reality, he can deal, provided this substance is properly handled. He can not,
indeed, be expected at first to receive new knowledge or
new id eas from the prin tecl page. For the time his
strength is mainly absorbed in the technical elements of
reading; he can do nothing more on the thought side
than to associate old ideas with their printed symbols; and
so some time mnst elapse before reading can become to him
a source of real knowl edge. He may all the time be adding, and should all the time be adding, to his real knowledge through direct contact with thought-material; his
studies of things and his study of the art of reading should

* Language and

Linguistic Method, p. 96.

THE LANGUAGE-ARTS IN THE LOWER GRADES. 45

be as closely connected as possible; but it still remains
true that, at this stage of progress, reading itself, or reading proper, is not a source of such knowledge. The
teacher must take the child where she finds him in respect to both mental and language power, and seek to
develop him in both directions. The principal methods
or devices that may be employe!l will now be enumerated.
· L The first means to be employed by the teacher is
conversations with the class on suitable subjects suggested by the incidents of everyday life in school and out
of schooi. The pupils should be encouraged to engage
freely in these conversations, encouraged to reproduce
their own observation and experience. While the language used by the teacher should be somewhat in advance
of that habitually used by the class, it should yet be within their comprehension. Judgment and tact will prevent
the introduction of improper subjects.*
2. The second means is tales and stories in prose and

!.

* How potent a means of education communication is, Lord Bacon suggests in his essay entitled Of Friendship. "Certain it is,"
he says," that whosoever hath his mind fraught with m11ny thoughts,
his wits and understanding do clarify and break up, in the communicating and discoursing with another : he tosseth his thoughts
more e11Sily ; he marshaleth them more orderly ; he seeth how
they look when they are turned into words; finally, he waxeth
wiser than himself; and that more by an hour's discourse than by
a day's meditation. It was well said by Themistocles to the King
of P ersia, that speech was like cloth of Arras, opened and put
aBroad; whereby the imagery doth appear in figute ,; whereas in
thoughts they lie but as in packs. Neither is this second fruit of
friendship, in opening the understanding, restrained only to such
fri ends as are able to give a man counsel (they, indeed, are best): but
' even without that, a man learneth of himself, and bringeth his own
thoughts to light, and whetteth his wits as against a stone, which
itself cuts not. In u word, a man were better relate himself to a
statua or picture than to suffer his thoi1ghts to pass in sfl ther."

46

THE LANGUAGE-ARTS IN THE LOWER GRADES.

TEACIIING THE LANGUAGE-Al\TS.

veroo. At first the teacher should herself tell or read
the stories and tales ; then make them the subject of conversation, requiring the pupils to reproduce them in their
own words as fully as possible. Fairyland may be drawn
upon as well as history, travel, and biography. To those
eel ncationists who obj ec t t hat fairy tales are fictitious, aud
that only the real should .be tanght, Professor Laurie replies that " the im agination of little children is very active
in the sphere of tbe possible and impossible; that this normal activity of the im agination contributes largely to the
g rowth, culture, and enrichm ent of mind ; and that it has
to be taken ad vantage of by the educator who respec ts
law wherever he find s it." "Where would Horner and
Soph ocles have been," he asks, "had they not imbibed
mythological lore with their mother's milk? Even the
genius of Shakespeare would have perished in the thirsty
desert of a childhood of bare facts." H e further affirms
th at" what applies to children applies a fortiori to the
a<lnlt; and that fi ction, the drama, and art ought, in consistency, to be excl ud ed from all life by those who would
deny the nnreal to children. It might also be shown . . .
that in the active imaginations of children and their appreciati on of fairy stories, we see at work, in a rudimen tary way, tlie capacity for the ideals of art and religion."* Th ere is reason to think that at present we tend
to make the education of the child too matter-of-fact, too
scien tific, forgetting that the child has imagination and
emo tion as well as logical faculti es. What could be better
than the following from Mr. L owell?"I am glad to see th at wli at the understanding would
stigmatize as useless is coming back into books written
for children, which at one time threatened to become more

* Lect ures on

Language and Li nguistic Method, pp. 2D, 30.

and more drearily practical and didactic. The fairies are
permitted once more to imprint their rings on the tender
sward of the child's fancy, and it is the child's fancy thii,t
often lives obscurely on to minister solace to the lonelier
and less sociable mind of the man. Our nature resents
the- closing up of the windows on its emotional and imaginative side, and revenges itself as it can .. ·.. In a last
analysis it may be said that it is to the sense of W ond~r
that all literature of the Fancy and of the Imagination
appeais. I am told that this sense is the survival in us of
some savage ancestor of the age of fl.int. If so, I am
thankful to him for his longevity, or h1s transmitted nature, whichever it may be. But I have my own suspicion
sometimes that the true age of fl.int is before and not behind us, an age hardening itself more and more to those
subtle influences which ransom our lives from the captivity of the actual, from that dungeon whose warder is
the Giant Despair. Y et I am consoled by thinking tliat
th e siege of Troy will be remembered when those of Vicksburg and Paris are forgotten. One of the old dramatists,
Tlioms H eywood, has, without meaning it, set down for
us the uses of the poets :

,

r,
.,

t

:.,.··~·

ff

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I
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47

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"'They cover us with counsel to defend us
From storms without; they polish us within
\Vith learning, knowledge, arts, and disciplineR;
All that is ·naught and vicious they sweep from us
Like dust and cobwebs; our rooms concealed
Rang with the costliest hangings 'bout the walls
Emblems and beauteous symbols pictured round.' "*

3. .At this stage of progress object lessons are a useful
mode of teaching language as well as of teaching sensible
qualities. The method is to make objects su-bjects of
conversation. It is well to keep in mind the historical

* The Ol<l English Dramatists, pp. 131, 132.

•".·";•,

..

..

•'

~·

....,. •...

TEACilING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

THE LANGUAGE-ARTS IN THE LOWER GRADES. 49

steps by which knowledge advances.~ We must remember
that education had not only begun, but made considerable
advancement, before the invention of letters; that men's
minds were first form ed through contact with the natural
world and with one another; that what the individual accumulated, he delivered by word of mouth to others; that
for long the oral teacher was the only teacher; that memory, left dependent upon itself, performed miracles, and
that tradition became a great instrument of cultivation.
Books and printing have chan ged all this to a great extent.
Relying upon books as we do, and accustomed as we are·
to associate ignorance and in capacity with illiteracy, we
find difficulty in appreciating the heights to which men
have sometimes attained who were strangers to the printed
page. "The H ebrew patriarchs had small libraries, I
think, if any," says the Autocrat; "yet they represent to
our imaginations a very complete idea of manhood ; and, I
think, if we could ask in Abraham to dine with us men
of letters next Saturday, we should feel honoured by his
company." It is important to remember the sources of
the primitive culture of the race, for they are still the
sources of the first culture of the individual. Letters did_
.n ot abolish our natural senses and mental faculties,
although they ha•e, most unfortunately, sometimes promoted their decay.
4. The r eading lessons are a most important agency
in language teaching. These should be well discussed
and understood by the pupils. While the readers used in
the school should meet the child nearly 011 his own level, ·
i11tellectual and linguistic, they should also tend to enlarge his knowledge itnd his vocabulary; th ey should
poi11t upward. This important subject will not be more
fully discussed here, since it will be made the subject of
a separate chapter.

5. Selections of poetry should be committed to memory
to be recited, to be sung, to be made the subject of conversittion. This exercise may be conducted on a generous
scale; it will confer some knowledge, but especially will
it develop and refine the vocabulary, provided the selections arn properly made. Furthermore, it will develop
taste. Beautiful poems committed to memory in childhood will be a perennial wellspring of cultivation and
delight. Nor is it necessary, or even advisable perhaps,
that the pupil should understand all the passages that be
learns. At this point persons who overestimate the intellectual elements· of education commit a mistake. Passages that are but faintly understood, may strongly move
the imagination and mould the feelings. Who that leads
an intellectual life does not every now and then, for the
first time, really see into some passage which he committed
to memory in childhood? *
6. The last agent to be mentioned is written exercises.
Sentences, stanzas, and short paragraphs should be copied.
At the beginning the slate or loose pieces of paper may
be used, but afterward a book should be provideq_for the
purpose. The exercise may be copied from the blackboard
or a book, or may be taken down from the teacher's dictation. These exercises, though simple, should always contain a thought of value to the child. A few simple rules
should be furnished by the teacher and be strictly insisted
upon-such, for example, as these: "The sentence should
always begin with a capital letter.'; "Proper names
should begin with a capital." "'rhe completed sentence

48

r

·1

I

.L

'!

t
r

..l

'

I

.,. Sir Walter Scott understood this matter much better than
some schoolmasters. "Children," he wrote, "derive impulses of a
powerful and i~portant kind from hearing things that they can not
entirely comprehend. It is a mistake to wri te down to their understandings. Set them on the scent, and let them puzzle it out."

50

THE LANGUAGE-ARTS IN THE LOWER GRADES. 51

TEACHING TilE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

should be marked by the period or the question mark."
The pupil will have no dif:Iiculty, in plain cases, in distinguishin.g between the sentence that says something and.
the question th at asks something. Such exercises as
th ese teach spelling, penmanship, and expression all at
the same time.
But m_ore than this. Th e pupils should compose original exercises from the very beginning. The first sentence~ should not differ from the corre sponding oral ones,
save m the employment of written language in the room
of oral language. At first ideas should be furnished or
snggest~d, as wel'. as the subj ect itself; afterward only
the subJect or topic, while the pupil is lef t to supply ideas
and word s. At a still later stage of progress the pupil
sl~ould be thrO\rn wh olly upon hi s own resources, leaving
lnm to find subject, ideas, and language. Such exercises
naturally connect themselves wi th obj ect lessons, as the
primary books devoted to Jauauarre
lessons amplv" illuso
b
trate. Th ese original sen tences are th e germ of the
fntnrc th eme or essay.
The fo regoing snggcstions of method should be accompanied by several remarks.
First, as has been in timated, tl1 ese suggestions have
more value than at first appears. The words "language" .
and "literature" are far from exhau sting their valu e.
For example, lt is through stories and tales that German teachers lay the foundation of that adm irable work
in history which is the praise of the German schools.
The H erbart-Ziller school of pedagogists, ·who Jay such
great stress upon hi story, say instruction should begin at
the beginning of school life. Holding that the child's ·
love for stories is the first awakening of his mind to
historic in tercst, they make it their first endeavour to '
stim ulate this love by systcma,tic story-tell in g. The art

of telling a story they regard as the final test of a teacher's skill, and they assign it a prominent place in normal
school instruction. Still further, they have worked out a
primary programme in accordance with their pedagogical
scheme. They have arranged a number of Grimm's tales,
which they ~ake the centre of instruction for the first
school year.\ These stories are told and retold by the teacher,
reproduced item by item by the children, and around them
are clustered moral and religious sentiments, material information, and illustrative object lessons. The next year,
connected stories from Robinson Crusoe are treated in-the
same manner. Then come selected tales from the Old
Testament, and still later selections from the Odyssey, the
Norse Sagas, Shakespeare, Herodotus, Livy, Xenophon,
and others in due order. In this way the hi storical sense
is developed and centres of interest created before technical instruction begins.*
The poems that are committed to meinor~ should be
selected with reference to their ethical value. j President
Eliot, of Harvard University, expresses a common experience when he says, "I hold in my memory bits of poetry, learned in childhood, which have stood me in good
stead through life in the struggle to keep true to just
ideals of love and duty." The old poet George Herbert
is right:

.:

"A verse may find him who a sermon fli es."

{

•\

/

Properly managed, instruction in the language-arts develops the historical, the ethical, and the literary sense, as
well as power to think and power to express thought.
Secondly, association continues to work as before, but
und er somewhat new conditions. Here, again, are the
two forms of imitation, the instinctive and the conscious,
*Sec the author's How to StuJy and Teach History, chap. v.

r

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

THE LANGUAGE-ARTS IN THE LOWER GRADES. 53

and the scope of their activity is increased through the
enlargement of environment. The school is now added
to the family and to the social circle-the school consisting of the teacher and the scholars. The last are a potent factor. "You send your boy to the schoolmaster,"
says Emerson, "but it is the schoolboys who educate
him." Sometimes the school shows an improvement and
sometimes a deterioration in the linguistic environment j
but, on the average, we may believe that the new stage
in child life shows improved cond itions. The lin guistic
effect of pupil upon pupil may be likened to the moral
effect. To a certain extent parents and teachers can exercise a selective influence here, as in respect to manners,
morals, and general cultivation, but taking the multitude
together such influ ence is not very great.
The t hird observation is that small-very small-reliance should be placed on rules, and then only in matters
that are purely mechanical. " Children are not to be
taught by rules which shall always be slipping out of
their memories," says John Locke. " What you think it
necessary fo r them to do, settle in them by an indispensable practice . ... Nothing sinks so quietly and deep into
men's minds as examples."
Even at the cost of what may seem unreasonable reiteration, attention must once more be drawn to the relations of thought and speech. If the doctrine heretofore
advanced be true-that thought and language are practically inseparable; that the two are really but different
aspects of the one subject; that growth in thought and
growth in language should be promoted in the schoolthen the conclusion may perhaps be drawn that instruction along eith er line will answer in bothJines. Not so;
thought and language do not measure each other absolutely; and althongh it is true that good instrnction in

either line helps in the other one, still there must be
separate and distinct instruction in both lines. It is a
question of emphasis; now thought will be emphasized,
and then language. The common child will not pick up
the elementary school arts by the way, without his own
knowledge, but he must consciously learn them. He will
not learn to read, write, and compose essays with power,
ease, and correctness, incidentally, while giving exclusive
attention or preponderant attention to something else.
Thought-expression must be emphasized as well as thonght,
material.
From birth to death there are four agents that promote our education in vernacular language-that develop
our powers of mind, and enlarge and clarify our means of
expression. These agents are here enumerated in the
\
order of their value :1. Association, or social relations with our fellows, including listening to cultivated speech of a formal charac- 1.
ter, as sermons, orations, and the like.
2. The reading of good literature, both in and out of 1
school.
3. Formal instruction in the language-arts, speech,
reading, and composition.
/
4. The scientific study of language, and particularly
of one's vernacular, or grammar.
The first of these agents works in the life of the cRjld
from its birth, ceaselessly and powerfully. In no fief.u"of
human activity or cultivation does imitation play a greater
part than here. 'rhe second· and third agents do not appear in the life of a majority of children until they go to
·school; and even in the minority, who have made some
progress in those arts before that time, they work but
feebly. Here, too, imitation asserts itself strongly. The
fourth agent never becomes a practical factor in the edu-

52

6

..
54:

-

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

cation of a majority of children, because they do not study
?Tammar; while in the cases of those who do study it, it
is much less effective than the other three.
At the present time there is much comment upon the
bad ~raining in English of the youth of the country, and
particularly of those who come to the better colleges.
There can be no question that this comment has much
justification. In the search for causes of the existing
state of things, and in the attempts to locate the blame,
quite insufficient attention has been paid to the relatively
low stage of general cultivation, including the languagearts, of the vast constituency of the schools. This statement includes pupils and teachers, because it includes the
whole community. The schools are to blame, but not
wholly so. Training in language, more than training in
anything else, bespeaks the child's or the man's personal
cultivation; and the roots of this cultivation are not
reached directly by the conscious processes of the school.

CHAPTER VIII.
THE LANGUAGE-ARTS IN THE HIGHER GR.A.DES .A.ND IN
THE HIGH SCHOOLS.
THERE can be no greater mistake in educational theory
than to suppose that the child, at any given time, passes
by a leap from one stage of mental development to another,
and no greater mistake in educational practice than suddenly to put aside one set of agencies for another set. The
child-life is a continuous evolution-enlarging indeed rapidly at times, but never so rapidly as to snap the thread
of continuity. Since there is no break in the child-life at
the age of eight years, there should be no break in the
t eacher's regimen. Changes of method and of regimen
should come as gradually as the changes of the mind itself.
Sameness in kind, however, does not necessitate sameness
in degree. Progressively, the exercises that are continued
into the second period of school life from the first one
should be made more thorough and more difficult, as the
child is able to bear them. Still further, the total amount
of stress or emphasis may be, and should be, reapportioned
or redistributed. For example, as the pupil ascends the
grades less stress should be laid upon concrete facts and
id eas, and more upon abstract facts and ideas. The full
training of a mind demands that abstract subjects should
receive due attention in their time as well as object lessons in their time.
55

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

THE LANGUAGE-ARTS IN THE HIGHER GRADES. 57

Accordingly, the means to be employed in teaching
the lan guage-arts after the third year do not really differ
in kind from those employed before that time, save in one
or two particulars. In the first years of the new period
that now begins all the agencies before mentioned should
still be continued. Some stress must be withdrawn, as
the work goes on, from the oral exercises, and be put
upon the reading and writing exercises. The pupil must
slowly learn how to use a · book-that is, really to read;
and this he will never do unless he uses books. Nothing is more destructive of good habits in the pupil than
the continuous flow of the teacher's talk, no matter how
good the talk may be. As the grades are passed the
teacher should become less prominent in the school life,
and the subjects of study, and notably the printed page,
become more prominent. "For what other purpose has
teaching," asks Quintilian," than that a pupil may at last
be under no necessity of being taught?"
I shall now describe in order the exercises to be
employed in this more advanced stage of languageteaching.
·I. The copying and dictation exercises should be continued as a rule. Sentences may be dismissed, and the
stanza, the paragraph, and the poem used instead. It will
be found advantageous in time to cau se the pupil to
transcribe considerable compositions. The benefits of
such exercises are obvious. Besides being lessons in spelling, in penmanship, and in expression, they enrich the
understandin g, enl arge the vocabulary, and lay the foundation of style. If the pupil fall s into the spirit of the
piece, Imitation will at once begin to work her spell.
Demosthenes, it is said, copied Thucydides's History of
the Peloponnesian War six times with his own hand.
But it will not do to permit such exercises to degenerate

into mere mechanical routine; they must be made fully
intelligent.
2. Composing themes or essays. The most marked
difference between the second period and the first one is
the expansion of the constructive work. A characteristic
exercise is the story, theme, or essay, which at first should
be limited to the single paragraph. To bridge the chasm
between the single sentences of the first grades and the
formal compositions of later grades, is the hardest thing
to be done in teaching composition. Here no better
method can be employed than the one anciently described
by Quintilian. He first recommends that those pupils
who are too young to enter upon the direct study of
oratory shall, in the first place, "relate orally the fables
of .lEsop, which follow next after the nurse's stories, in
plain language, not rising at all above mediocrity, and
afterwards to express the same simplicity in writing." He
then recommends paraphrasing. As to the poets, let the
boys take to pieces their verses, and then express them in
different words; and afterwards represent them, "somewhat boldly, in a paraphrase, in which it is allowable to
abbreviate or embellish certain parts, provided that the
sense of the poet .be preserved." He recommends also the
writing of sentenies, and especially of what he calls chriw,
which is the relation of some saying or action, .and not
different apparently from the " story" method so commonly found in our schools.*
It would be very unwise, however, to call the simple
exercises done at the beginning of these grades essays or
· compositions. Professor I1aurie thinks" essays" should not
appear until the fourteenth year. Much depends upon a
name or a definition. The fact is, if the language work

56

* Institutes of Oratory, i, 9, 3.

58

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

is properly graded you can not tell when the pupil writes
his first essay, so insensibly will language lessons shade
into essays.
3. Paraphrasing. What has already been said about
oral paraphrasing is equally true of written. Much more
is also to be said of both.
Professor Laurie objects to paraphrasing, which he calls
"turning into commonplace language, which 'any fellow
may understand,' the verses of a poet, or the succinct
prose of such writers as Bacon and Browne. . . . A more
detestable exercise," he says, "I do not know. It is a vile
use of pen and ink. . . . To paraphrase Milton or Shakespeare," he goes on, "is to turn the good into the inferior
or bad, and to degrade literature. Moreover, it is false.
For the youth who has done it imagines that his sentences
give all that is to be found in the original Milton or Bacon.
If this were so, theu there would, alas ! be no such thing
as literature, no such thing as art in language. When all
is done, you have no longer got Bacon or Milton, but only
your much lesser self."* It is interesting to observe that
Roger Ascham held the same view. "It is a bold comparison indeed," he says in The Scholemaster, "to think
to say better than that is best. Such turning of the best
into worse is much like the turning of good wine out of a fair
sweet flagon of si lver into a foul, musty bottle of leath er;
or to turn pure gold and silver into foul brass and copper." Quintilian, however, recommended paraphrasing,
very much to Ascham's disgust. To much paraphrasing
the objection is perfec tly valid. The object of the exercise is not, as Ascham seems to suppose, to better what is
best, but rather to improve the style of the pupil. Still,
there is no merit in simply marring what is beautiful. A
*Pp. 50, 51.

THE J,ANGUAGE-ARTS IN THE HIGHER GRADES. 59

writer in the Saturday Review deservedly condemns the
making-over of such lines as these :
" To mute and to material things
New life revolving summer brings ;
The gentle call dead Nature hears,
And in her glory reappears.''

The flowers of literature are too delicate and fragile to be
roughly handled. To paraphrase, for instance, T ennyson's Brook is most absurd; the poem is ethereal, all music,
and one might as well paraphrase the song of the lark.
But if narrative verse is chosen, verse that has body and
substance, paraphrasing is ,a very useful exercise, as most
t eachers will testify. Passages of Sir Walter Scott's poems,
stories as they are and full of fire and animation, may be
recommended as good material. To a degree the controversy is one about words. 'Even Laurie recommends what
he calls "resolution" or "dialysis," which consists in the
writing out of a piece of poetry in grammatical prose
order, supplying words understood, but always preserving
the language of the poet.
4. 'rhe imitation of chosen models. The recommendation of this practice does not mean that the pupil shall
consciously copy an author's style. Such a course would
destroy individuality and end in helplessness. The model
should rather work in the pupil, and through him, as it
will do if he really becomes absorbed in the model. The
beneficial influence of great writers upon style is indirect.
'l'he stronger an author's personality, the stronger the
hold that he will take of his readers and the greater will
be his influence. Students of Bacon, Milton, or Shakespeare are influenced not so much directly in their thought
or style as indirectly .through what they absorb unconsciously. At first, nothing more can be expected than
that the pupil will fall into the author's mode of express-

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

THE LANGUAGE-ARTS IN THE HIGHER GRADES. 61

ing thou ght, which he will do if really interested. Afterward he should study authors critically. Dr. Johnson
said a man who wished to write well should give his days
and nights to Addi son, which is sound advice, provided
Addison is thought to be a proper model.
It is especially important that the teaching of the Jan·
guage-arts should be conducted on the intensive plan.
There is a reciprocal r elation between speaking and readc
ing, while language or composition should be kept in close
touch with the reading lessons, and parti cularly with the
literature. The study of literature will furnish subjects
and materials as well as models of expression. Constant
care must be taken to develop literary taste, and this can
be done only through constant contact with good reading
matter. Rhetoric antl criticism may purge the taste, but
alone th ey never reform it any more than they form it in
the first place.
5. 'l'ranslation. Th ere can be no don bt that this exercise is very beneficial to those students who carefully study
a foreign lang uage. It involves the two elements of unconscious imitation and of .practice. Translation was
the great reliance of Ascham in teaching Latin. He
strongly advises what he called "double translations"that is, first rendering a letter of Cicero's, for example,
into English, and then translating it again into Latin.
These are his words :
" Translation is easy in the beginning for foe scholar,
and brin geth also much learning and great judgment to
the master. ·It is most common and most comm endable
of all other exercises for youth. Most common for all
your constru ctions in grammar schools be nothing else
but translations; but because they be not double translations, as I do require, th ey bring forth but simple and
single commodity, and because also th ey lack the daily

use of writing, which is the only thing that breedeth deep
r oot, both in the wit, for good understanding, and in the
memory, for sure keeping of all that is learned. Most
commendable also, and that by the judgment of all authors which entreat of these exercises."*
Still, it is a mistake to teach the second language in
school in the early grades. It leads to confusion ;:ind
weakness; what is gained in the foreign tongue is lost in
the mother tongue. On this point Professor Laurie's remarks quoted on a previous page may be again cited. Still,
I must not fail to remark that it is very desirable for those
children who are expected to study one or more languages
at some time to take up the second one before the high
school is reached.
'
Th e foregoing suggestions cover in general the whole
field of language work up to the high school ; indeed,
properly expanded, they include the high school also.
Some of them are of principal or exclusive application
in lower grades, some in upper grades. To consider the
grades, one by one, with reference to the specific kind of•
work that should be done in each, would not be in harmony with the plan of this work; nor is it thought to be
necessary, especially as reading and composition will be
made the subject of discussion in future chapters.
To the foregoing methods of instruction two others
should be added that will find their main application and
use in the high school.
The first of these is the study of etymologies. The
derivation of words is not always a safe guid e to their
meaning. Language is often illogical. This is particularly true of the technical terms of science. "'Hydrogen ' and ' oxygen,' 'meiocene' and 'pleiocene,'" says Mr.

60

* Book II,

Translation.

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TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

THE LANGUAGE-ARTS IN THE HIGHER GRADES. 63

Marsh, "are modern compounds of Greek roots, but, however familiar th eir rad icals, these terms would no more
explain themselves to the intelligence of a Greek than to
an unlettered Englishman." 'fhe meanings of suoh words
mu st be sought in dictiornLries and works of science. "We
can not learn all words," Mr. Marsh proceeds, "through
other words. There is a large and rapidly increasing part
of all modern vocab ularies, which can be comprehended
only by the observation of Nature, scientific experiment,
in short by th e study of things."*
We can, however, learn many words through other
words. Often a clear idea of a common radical will illuminate a whole family of words. The student who sees
that Latin prendere means to seize or grasp gets a firmer
hold of "comprehend" and of "apprehend," and of the two
large families of words of which these are members. A
limited number of nouns and verbs, combined with a few:
prepositions, have given us a large part of our working
vocabulary. "Example,"" exemplification," "ensample,"
"sample," and the like, all go back to exemplurn, and this
again to the verb eximere. "I11struction," "construction,''
"destruction," differ only in the three different prepositions that form the first syllables. We seem to have a
clearer view of the helplessness of the baby when we think
of him as the "infant," the not-speaking one. A" fable"
should be anything that is told, and a "legend" anything
that is read, rather than what they are at present. The
Roman vfrfas was courage, and the use of the word in its
present sense suggests the high valuation that has been
attached to that virtue. An aristocracy should be a government of the best. " Sincerity" and "cerement " are
alike in this, that the root of each is cera, meaning wax.

"Trivialities" are the unconsidered matters that men
are apt to exchange at the crossings of the way or road.
These examples are all drawn from the Latin side of tho
English speech. The composition of Saxon words is often
equally interesting. Consider the families of words derived from the names of the members of the body, hand,
foot, head, and mouth. Not everybody has thought that
"nosegay " is a compound of the two familiar words that
compose it. Whether much time is given to the roots or
not, prefixes and suffixes should be a subject of study in
all schools above the lower grades.
Word-building often adds new force to the meaning
of words. It gives new clearness to the pupil's ideas ; it
increases his resources of expression; and, not least, it
creates a habit of observation and analysis that adds mat erially to the interest and value of language. While it
is most beneficial to students who have studied a second
langnage, and particularly Latin, its benefits are not confined to them. It is therefore highly important that all
tea_chers of language should turn the attention of their
pupils to the study of etymology.
The other line of study referred to is the history of
words, or not so much the history of words as the history
that is in words. "Words," Emerson says, "are fossil
poetry." They are fossil history as well. They register
opinions, states of society, political facts, the progress of
ideas. The word "pagan " informs us that in the Roman
Empire the villagers, pagani, clung to the old religion
when the dwellers in cities had accepted Christianity.
·The word "heathen" points to a similar relation between the heathmen and the townsmen in Saxon England. " Rustic" and "urban" mark the contrast between
country and town in manners. Politics, as the word
shows, originated in the city (7r6.A-t~). "Jewsharp" and

62

* Lectures on the English Language, p. 84.

64

TEACilING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

'.'ten penny" nail have each a history. With what eager
mterest the reader having a smattering of philology, reads
the conversation between Wamba and Gurth in Ivanhoe
th at brings out the historical significance of swine and
pork, ox and beef, calf and veal, sheep and rnu.tton I The
first word of each pair is Saxon, the second Norman, showing, as Wamba says, that the animal is Saxon when he
requires tendance, and takes a Norman name when he
becomes a matter of enjoyment. Scott uses these etymologies to illustrate how little the Nor mans had left to
the Saxons; while the finest and the fattest were for the
Norman board, the loveliest for the Norman couch, the
best an~ bravest for the Norman host. The history of
Euro~e is largely written in its languages, and the geographical nomenclature of America tells of races and tribes
that have passed or are passing away. "Mountains and
streams," it has been said, "still murmur the voices of
nati ons long since denationalized or exti rpated."
It goes without saying that the science of language has
come. to be an important source of historical information ,
but its effect on the course of history itself has .not been
as fully recognised. " The new theory of language," says
Sir H. S. Maine, "has unquestionably produced a new
theory of race. . . . To this theory of race," he adds, "we
owe, at all events in part, the vast development of German
nationality; and we certainly owe to it the pretensions of
tbe Russian Empire to at least a presidency over all Slavonic communities." Panslavism has been called "philological sentiment." Th e learned writer might, with equal
propriety, ham mentioned the part that the new race the- .
ory played in the unification of Italy.
The interest and value of such studies as these are
found mainly in discipline and in culture. And yet,
whatever makes langu age more significant, more vivid,

THE LANGUAGE-ARTS IN TIIE HIGHER GRADES. 65

more picturesque, enhances its value as an instrument of
thought. Study of the etymology and history of words
in schools should be encouraged. Such study may be
entered upon in a tentative manner before the high
school is reached. Sneer as scientific philologists may
at Trench's Study of Words, that book bas quickened the
linguistic interest of many minds; and were it brought up
to the front of the latest scholarship, retaining its popular
character, it would still be a good book to put on the table
of every teacher of English in the country.
A further word may well be said about one of the
topics treated above. The translation that· helps the pupil in his English is the actua1 transference of thought
from good Latin or Ge-rman into good English. The mere
matching of words is of little value. Idiomatic English
is what is wanted. Moreover, translation is accompanied
by a double difficulty: the pupil is called upon to grasp
' the thought of the writer contained in a foreign language,
and then to express this thought in his own language.
In many cases either one of these efforts taxes bis abilit.v
severely, and frequently overtaxes it. The more remote
the passage from his own habitual mental life, the sorer
the trial. The vehicle is new and the burden that it
carries heavy. A frequent result is that translations are
accepted which, in respect to English, would not for a
moment be tolerated as original compositions. Accordingly, this is a point to be watched, lest the Latin or
German lesson undoes the English lesson.

1
!

,.

THE ART OF READING.

* The Hero as

Man of Letters.
66

67

about things and words as instruments of educationrealism and verbalism. Some children take the third
step in education before coming to school; all pay, or
should pay, much _,attention to things after reaching it;
stiU the book gives to the school, and particularly to the
elementary school, i~s character, and reading is, and will
continue to be, the first and greatest of the elementary
school arts. The ancient Jews significantly called the
school " the house of the book." We are now to see
what its use involves.
The relation of the author; to his compositiop is that of
a creator to his creature, or of a father to his child. According to the Greek conception, the poet is the "maker"
(nol1JT*), and such also, in a less eminent degree perhaps,
is the prose writer.* Some part of an author's knowledge,
thought, feeling, or purpose-one or all of these; that is,
some part of the author himself-flows into his work.
This is the sense of the word "author." Mr. Lowell
once said that the Greek classics are rammed with life,
and so in some degree is all literature worthy of the name.
The author is like Jesus in the miracle-virtue goes out of
him. But the life or virtue is inert and powerless so long
as the book lies unused on the shelf. As Dr. Holmes calls
him, the librarian is the sexton of the alcoved tomb-

CHAPTER IX.

As we have seen, the first mental cultivation of the
race originated in its contact with the external world, mat erial and soci al ; the second, in its contact with the experience of the living or the dead communicated by oral
tradition. The third came with the invention of writing
and the production of books. These steps every individual repeats in the same order.
"With the art of writing," mys Carlyle, "of which
printing is a simple, an inevitable, and comparatively insignificant corollary, the true reign of miracles for mankin<l. commenced . . . . All things were altered for men :
all modes of important work of men-teaching, preaching,
governing, and all else." He contrasts the university of
the thirteenth century with the university of the nineteenth-the one a place of listening, the other of reading.
"If we think of it,'' he continues, "all that a university
or final highest school can do for us is still but what the
first school began doing-teach us to read." And again,
"The true university of th ese days is a collection of ·
books."* It is true that Carlyle wrote this celebrated passage before th e day of laboratory methods; but if he were
living now, it is not probable that he would care to change
a word of it. There is, indeed, a long-standing controversy

1'HE ART OF READING.

" Where souls in H3athern eerements lie."

I\

The function of the reader is different from that of
the author, and is yet like it. He takes up a dead composition and makes it live again. He recreates, if he does
not create. He evokes from the printed pa()'e what the
writer put into it. He restores the writer,
far as he
put himself into his work. . He reanim ates the souls that

:o

' ,I

n

II
ij

* In Elizabethan English "maker" is the current term for poPt,
and "make" for writing verses.

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

THE ART OF H,EADING.

lie in leathern cerements. When he brings out of a composition bearing one of those names all the Shakespeare,
Bacon, or T ennyson that it holds, he reads it, and not
until then. Mark Pattison says the scholar is greater
than his books. 'fhc result of his labours is not so many
thou sand pages of folio, but himself. The Paradise Lost
is a grnnd poem, bnt how much grander was the living
soul who spoke it ! Philosophy is not a doctrine, but a
method. Philosophic<tl systems as put upon paper do not
embody philosophy. Philosophy perishes in the moment
you would teach it. Knowledge is not the thing known,
but the mental effort which knows. And so it is with
learning.* But there is another point of view. Imperfect as th ey are, boo ks are the best expression of the
minds tba,t have produced them. If Milton falls below
bis own level in Paradise Lost, he rises again in the Miltonic reader. And while philosophy may perish in the
act of teaching, and knowledge cease to be in the act of
transmission, th ey reappear in the disciple as the power
that philosophi zes and the activity th at knows. Reading,
to be sure, is relative, not abs~ lute. A child's reading of
Shakespeare is one thing, Coleridge's quite another.
In a previous chapter we have seen that knowledge is
purely subj ective; that if all minds were to perish, knowledge would cease to exist, even if all the existing symbols
of knowledge, books and libraries in cluded, should survive. These books and libraries would be like the old
parrot mentioned by Humboldt, which spoke the language
of a savage tribe that had ceased to exist. It is only in a
secondary sense th at there is knowledge in a book. What
a book con tains is not properly ideas, not properly even
word s, whi ch are th e signs of ideas, but merely the symbols

of words, the external and yisible simulacra of thought;
and it is only when a min~ke the mind of the author is
brought into, relation with it that the book becomes instinct with meaning. A book may be likened to a phonograph, which speaks or sings only to an ear like the ear
of him who first sp~ the speech or sung the song.
In his essay 01Y Goethe's Helena, Carlyle shows bow
the reader becomes one with the author. "We have not
read an author till we have seen bis object, whatever it
may be, as he saw it. Is it a matter of reasoning, and has
he reasoned stupidly and falsely ? We should understand
the circumstances which, to his mind, made it seem true,
or persuaded him to write it, knowing tlmt it was not so.
In any other way we do him injustice if we judge him.
Is it of poetry? His words are so many symbols, to which
we ourselves must furnish the interpretation; or they remain, as in all prosaic minds the words of poetry ever do,
a dead letter: indications they are, barren in themselves,
but by following which we also may reach, or approach, that
Hill of Vision where the poet stood, beholding the glorious
scene which it is the purport of his poem to show others."
Writing and reading are correlative arts; either implies the other. When one stops to think of it, he begins
to appreciate the greatness of the triumph that they involve.
With a few strokes of his pen, the author transmits his
thought around the world, or to a distant age. Through
the printed page, the reader comes into relation with the
men who have rammed the literatures with life. "It is
the greatest invention that man has ever made," says Carlyle, "this of marking down the thought that is in him
by written characters. It is a kind of second speech,
almost as marvellous as the first." It is not strange that
a people so full of filial piety as the Chinese should reverence lettered paper.

68

" Isa::ic Casaubon, pp. 488, 489.

7

69

70

TEACHlNG THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

While reading is the latest born of the great instruments of cultivation, it is in some ways the most important of all. Bjornson makes the mother of the hero of ""
'rhe Happy Boy say to her son that once the mountain spoke to the stream, the stream to the river, the
river to the sea, and the sea to the sky, the sky to
the clouds, the clouds to the trees, the trees to the grass,
the grass to the flies, the flies to the animals, the animals
to the children, the children to the grown-up people, and
so on. Finally, she begins to teach him to read. He had
owned books for a long time, and often wondered how it
would seem when they also began to talk. Mr. Scudder
uses the story to emphasize what he calls "the crisis of
our educational system." This crisis is learning to read.
" In making it possible for him [the child] to read books,
we have added enormously to the power of the teacher. . .
Of all times in the child's life when this company of invisible spirits may be called in as interpreters, there is
none more significant, more impressive than this, when,
standing on the threshold, wondering, listening, his imagination sensitive to the ;finer influences, he waits to hear
what his books shall say to him when they begin to
talk."*
*The Atlantic Monthly, February, 1894, p. 254: The Educational
Law of Reading anu Writing.

, _- CHAPTER X.
.~.

-T

READING AND MENTAL CULTIVATION.

.

studies proper may be divided into three
groups, the di visions being based on use or function. We
must sketch out these groups, and also show the relation
of reading to each one of them.
' 1. The guidance studies furnish us with information
or knowledge that is of immediate practical value in the
work of life. This knowledge shapes, or at least influences, our conduct. The terms " guidance" and "conduct," however, must not be taken in a narrow sense.
They must not be used in a merely moral acceptation,
but in the sense of universal activity. In kind the
knowledge that is derived from these studies is the same
as the useful or practical information that is gathered by
personal observation and reflection, by conversation, by
reading the newspapers and books of general information.
It has an encyclopredic character, and has been called
"fact Jore.'' Indeed, information has sometimes been
regarded, but very mistakenly, as the same thing as education.
Extended remarks are not needed to show that the
art of reading is very closely connected with this group
of studies. It is well known to all teachers that in dealing with this whole group the good readers greatly surpass the poor ones. Teachers have often remarked to
me, " My pupils are poor m geography and history beSCHOOL

71

73

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-AH,TS.

READING AND MENTAL CULTIVATION.

cause they can not read." It is the same way in physiology and elementary science, for in these studies the end
sought is not so much mental discipline as it is information and the cultivation of the observing habit. In these
studies the good readers surpass the poor ones, partly
because they commonly surpass them in observation and
apprehension, and partly because they surpass them in
the art of reading itself. The mental qualities that cause
a pupil to excel as a reader also cause him to excel in the
information studies. As Bacon says, conference makes a
ready man, writing an exact man, reading a full man.
2. The disciplinary studies stimulate the observing
and thinking faculties to action, and so develop the mind.
They are sometimes called the "training studies." They
tend to create thought rather than merely to furnish facts
or ideas. As the studies of the first group give the mind
knowledge, so these give it power. While the relation of
reading to the disciplinary studies is less close than to the
information studies, it is still important.
Poor readers sometimes do good work in physics,
chemistry, and mathematics, while good readers more frequently do poor work in the same studies; but in both
instances th e rnle is the other way. Pupils often come
short in arithm etic or algebra because they have never
formed the habit of carefully reading their examples,
problems, an<l theorems. With such pupils it is sometimes an advantage to cause them to analyze grammatir,ally their lessons. The close relations of reading to the
study of language, particularly on the literary side, are
perfectly obvious. The mental qualities that make the
good reader tend also to make the good translator. Poor
readers rai·ely ma,ke good progress in the study of languages.
Gramm ar will be made the subject of a future chapter,
but a sin gle phase of it may be mentioned here. Grammat-

ical analysis rests on logica,l analysis, on actually thinking
an author's thoughts, and what is this but a form of reading? Silent reading in interpreting to the mind the language-elements as they stand on the page,-words, phrases,
clauses, and sentences ;.;_~l reading adds to this the vocal
expression that enables 1l!e listener to repeat the same
process. The basic element in both cases is a ceaseless process of defining, interpreting, and construing. The similarity between oral reading and analysis is even closer :
the reader indicates the subject and the predicate of the
sentence, as well as their modifiers, by the intonations,
emphasistand slides of his voice; the grammarian formally points out these elements by giving them their
grammatical names. Reading is rapid analysis without
the formal designation of the elements; analysis is slow
reading with such designation. Still, all good readers do
not excel in formal grammar; some who have the literary
faculty lack the logical power that analysis calls for.
3. The culture studies supply tilth to the mind. The
principal ones are the arts. Language as art is literature,
a culture study. 'rhe difference between reading and the
study of literature is partly one of kind, but mainly one
of degree. The teacher of reading in the lower grades
places more emphasis upon the mechanical or technical
elements of the art than upon its spiritual elements; in
the higher grades, less emphasis upon the mechanical
and more upon the spiritual ; while the teacher of literature gLves principal attention to the spiritual elements.
Manifestly these are steps in the same line of development.
Progressively, the art of reading passes into the study of
literature. A school reader is a book of literature, as well
as a practice book for teaching an art. A reader of high
grade contains, or should contain, a variety of matterdescriptions of na,tural objects, elevated oratory, sublime,

72

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•

75

TEACIIING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

READING AND MENTAL CULTIVA'I'ION.

tragical, and comic pieces, wise reasoning, humour, wit,
pathos, poetic interpretation of Nature and scientific interpretation, history, food for the intellect and food for
the heart, as well as tonic for the will. Fully to appreciate such a book calls for larger mental attainments than
all the other books of the elementary school put together;
to render its lessons well is the highest test of school culture; thoroughly to know its contents, next to association
with a good teacher and cultivated pupils, is contact with
the best formative influence of the school. The reader is
pre-eminently the character-making and the taste-making
book. It is the queen book of the elementary schoolroom.
Of course, this division of studies, or any other one
that can be propounded, lies open to criticism. The
broadest of these criticisms is that the groups overlap one
another. Information, disciplinary, and culture elements
are found in every one of the three groups of studiesnay, in every study. As in other cases of classification,
the names go with the emphatic characters. The distinction· of information and disciplinary studies in particular n eeds to be guarded. A man's knowledge and his
discipline are not convertible terms, still less his knowledge and his edu cation; at the same time there is no
knowledge that does not bring discipline, and no discipline apart from knowledge.
While the above classification exhausts the school
studies, it does not exhaust the sources of mental growth
and culture. The mind is enriched from sources that do
not bear the name of studies. Literature is one, conversation another. In respect to language, in particular, literature is very powerfnl. Imitation begins to exercise its
potent spell the moment that the child begins to read a
book with real interest. But imitation by no means ex~
hausts the influence of either literature or association.

Imitation is at best a sort of copying, like the printing of
a photograph; but here we deal with a force that works
from within and affects the whole mental being. A conversation or a book, entering into a child's mind, brings
new knowledge, incites thought an:d feeling, and enlarges
the vocabulary and refines modes of speech. 'l'he introduction of new ideas, images, and feelings engenders new
thought power and imparts new forms of expression.
Speech grows and is clarified along with thought. The
new spirit pushes off old modes and forms, as the spring
sap causes the dead leaves to fall from the tree. The process is none the less efficacious because it is silent and
somewhat slow. Use and wont do indeed create habits of
speech that are almost incapable of change; but, at the
same time, reading and conversation renew a person's
speech as waste and repair renew his skin. And it was
this process of renewal that I referred to when, in a previous chapter, I spoke of growing off or sloughing one's
linguistic integument.
It is not easy to exaggerate the linguistic influence of
the books that have obtained a currency as wide as the
language in which they are written, such as Milton, Bunyan, Shakespeare, and, above all, King James's Bible. The.
influence of a few great models such as these, thoroughly
read, is a hundredfold greater than that of all the grammars, dictionaries, rhetorics, and language books ever written. R~ference has already been made to the potent influence of the school reader. It may be more than doubtfnl whether, with our habit of wide and careless reading,
we are not at a disadvantage in respect to speech compared with our ancestors, who read more narrowly but
more intensely. The newspaper is by no means an unmixed blessing, while there is reason to question whether
the higher school readers of to-day are equal in a literary

76

READING AND MENTAL rCULTIVATION.

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

point of view to those that were formerly in use. " We
are apt," says Lowell, "to wonder at the scholarship of
the men of three centuries ago, and at a certain dignity
of phrase that characterizes them. 'l'hey were scholars
because they did not read so many things as we. They
had fewer books, but these were of the best. Their speech
was noble because they lunched with Plutarch and supped
with Plato."*
The primary teacher's first duty is to enlarge and clarify
the child's mental store, rendering his facts, ideas, and
thoughts more precise and definite, as well as more full
and varied ; her second duty-and this begins at the same
time and runs parallel with the former one-is to enlarge
and clarify his vocabulary, adding to his stock of words
and sharpening and guiding the senses in which he uses
them. First and last the teacher's great instrument in
the accomplishment of these ends is reading. The intelligent t eacher will therefore hasten to lay holcl of this
great instrument of power. She will hasten to teach the
pupil the art of reading; she will strive to create within
him a love of reading, and also to form a discriminating
taste or judgment that is capable of separating what is
worth read ing from what is hot. The public schools of
the United States cost the people not less than one hundred and seventy million dollars annually, but they would
earn the money if they measurably accomplished the three
ends just stated, although th ey should do nothing more,
viz., teach the children how to read and what to read, and
give them a love of reading. Unfortunately, the clifference
between literature and printed matter is not always un1 derstood. I should remark, however, that the relation of
the reading habit to the fotellectual and moral life is not

* Litcrnry ancl

Political Acldresses : Books ancl Libraries.

.i

77

here emphasized so much as its rehi.tion to linguistic cultivation. As a linguisti,c agent it ranks far above both the
study of grammar and the techniCal devices of the schoolroom; it stands next to association itself-is, indeed, a
form of association; and is undoubtedly the most powerful
linguistic agent that the teacher can use. It is too much
to expect that the common person, habituated from birth
to bad English, will ever learn to use the best English,
but the ardent reader may accomplish wonders in that
direction.
What has been said of environment and good reading
is of universal application. They are the two great methods of teaching language. Neither one is peculiar to the
schoolroom. No matter what a child's primal force may
be, or what his acquired or inherited culture, be needs the
discipline and the cultivation that come from good company and good books. But the books must be graduated
to the pupil and must be wisely handled.
It is pertinent to observe that in England, at least at
the universities, the words "read" and "reading" are
used in a much broader sense than in the United States.
To study is to read. The bard student is the bard reader.
A difficult subject is hard reading. This broader usage
marks the essential oneness of what we tend to divide.
We do, indeed, say that a student reads law or theology,
but this is no doubt due to the fact that under the old
regime lawyers obtained their education in lawyers' offices,
and ministers their theological training in pastors' studies.
The introduction of the broader English usage into our
schools might prove to be an ad vantage.
NoTE.-In an admirable paragraph Mr. Lowell considers the question, "What the mere ability to read means." . It is "the key
which admits us to the whole world of thought and fancy and imagination," "to the company of saint and sage, of the wisest ancl

'

78

'

'

~

TEACHING 'l'HE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

wittiest at their wisest and wittiest moment"; "it enables us to see
with the keenest eyes, hear with the finest ears, and listen to the
sweetest voices of all time" ; "it annihilates time and space for us,"
and revives the age of wonder without a miracle. "We often hear
of people," he says, "who will descend to any servility, submit to
any insult, for the sake of getting themselves or their children into
what is euphemistically called good societ.y. Did it ever occur to
them that there is a select society of all the centuries to which they
and theirs can be admitted for the asking-a s0ciety, too, which will
not involve them in ruinous waste of time and health and faculties f "-(Books and Libraries.)
Prof. Norton is equally happy when he says: "Poetry is one of
the most efficient means of education of the moral sentiment, as
well as of the intelligence. It is the sonrce of the best culture. A
man may know all science and yet remain uneducated. But let him
trnly possess himself of the work of any one of the great poets,
and, no matter what else he may fail to know, he is not without
education.
" The field of good literature is so vast that ther e is something
in it for every intelligence. But the field of bad literature is not
less broad, and is likely to be preferred by the common, uncultivated taste. To make good reading more attractive than bad, to
give right direction to the choice, the growing intelligence of the
child should be nourished with selected portions of the best literature, t he virtue of which has been approved by long consent. These
selections, besides merit in point of literary form, should possess as
geneml human in terest as possible, imd should be specially chosen
with reference to the culture of the imagination.
"The imagination is tpe supreme intellectual faculty, and yet it
is of all the one which receives least attention in our common systems of education. The reason is not far to seek. The imagination is of nll the faculties the most <lifficnlt to control, it is most
elusive of all, the most far-reaching in its relations, the rarest in its
full power. But upon its healthy development depend not only
the sound exercise of the facult ies of observation and judgment,
but nlso the command of the reason. the control of the will, and
the quickening and growth of the moral sympath ies. The means
for its culture which good reading affords is the most generally
available a1{d one of the most cfficicnt."-(Prcface to tho Heart of
Oak Books, Second Book.)

CHAPTER XI.
REQUISITES FOR HEADING.-'

IN order that one may read in the sense that we have
defined reading, he must possess t~ree different qualifications, viz. :1. He must have a mental preparation-intellectual _
emotional, and volitional-such as will enable him--t~
ceive. the knowledge, feeling, and purpose with which the
composition that he reads is charged.
2. He must be master of the mechanism or machinery
of the printed page; he must know the power and use,
both singly and in combination, of the characters that are
used in the expression or symbolism of written or printed
thought.
3. He must have a vocal or an elocutionary training
that will enable him to convey to others by means of his
voice what he himself finds on the printed page. Here it
is that reading forms a connection with the earlier art of
speaking.
The first of these requisites is general and spiritual ;
the second and third are special and mechanical. The
first one sums up the whole of the reader's mental cultivation, the other two constitute the technique, or the art, of
reading. For silent reading, of course, only the first and
second are necessary; for oral reading the third is equally
essential.
Properly to teach reading due attention must be paid
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TEACHI ~ G

THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

to every on e of these three requirements : To mental preparation in respect to subject-matter, to the apparatus of
points, letters, words, and sentences, and to vocal drill or
expression. While it would be too much to say that
teachers as a class understand fully the second and third
of these canons, they certainly understand them better
than they do the first one. Some ·fail to understand wbat
reading is ; th ey appear to assume that it is the mere play
of the vocal organs, the simple utterance of language.
Chinese youth, for example, in the first period of school
life, commit to memory, and learn to recite with faultless
utterance, Th e Five Classics and The Four Books, from
which, as the oral and literary languages of the country
are wholly different, they do not receive a glimmer of an
idea. Later t hey are taught the literary language ; but
in this first period, according to the purely mechanical
conception, th ey arc the most accomplished readers in the
world.
Unfortunately, the relation of the art of reading to
mental cultivation as a whole is not always understood.
It is an effect as well as a cause of such cultivation. We
learn in order to read, as well as read in order to learn.
No man's knowledge ever began, or ever will begin, with
reading. Before we ever read a word we have accumulated, by th e use of th e senses and by reflection, a stock of
facts, ideas, and images without which we could never read
at all. Later in life words often come before things or
id eas, but at first things must come before words. Nor
can we grow in power to read unless we keep in relation
constantly wi th the original sources of knowledge. Professor J . S. Blackie has remarked that while, in modern
times, instruction is communicated by means of books,
and whil e th ey are very useful helps to knowled ge, and
even to the practice of useful arts, still they are never the

REQUISITES FOR READING.

81

primary and natural sources of culture, and their virtue is
apt to be overrated. · They are not creative powers in
any sense; they are merely helps! instruments, or tools,
and even as tools they are artificial, superadded to those·
with which the wise prevision of Nature bas equipped
us. "The original and proper sources of knowledge are
not books, but life, experience, personal thinking, feeling,
and acting. When a man starts with these, books can
fill up many gaps, correct much that is inaccurate, and
extend much that is inadequate ; but, without living experience to work on, books are like rain and sunshine
fallen on unbroken soil." Hence the Scotch profeesor
urges his young readers to cultivate the direct observation ,. .
of facts, and not to be content with cultivating ~ooks. * It
is indeed to be said that words in themselves are things
as much as material objects, and that as such they may be
made the subject of study, but this is apart from their
primitive function as signs of ideas and as veb.icles of
thought.
After all that has been said and written, t eachers do
not yet sufficiently appreciate the bearing of what we already know upon what we have yet to learn. At first the
mind looks at objects directly and impartially; there intervenes between it and its object no medium or prism of
ideas or previous mental experience; so that there is a
native innocency of the mind as well as of the eye. But
this virgin state of mind does not last long. The firstformed ideas condition all later ones. They become types,
forms or cadres to which new objects are referred. "For
where~er it is at all possible," as has been said, "the child
refers the new to the related older ideas. With the aid of
familiar perceptions, he appropriates that which is foreign
*Self-Culture : The Culture of the In tellect.

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TEACfIING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

REQUISITES FOR READING.

to him, and conquers with the arms of apperception the
outer world which assails his senses."* 'Thus the child
reared up in the south brought north may call snowflakes
butterflies, while any child for a period calls every man a
papa, every woman a mamma. When the Romans first
saw elephants they called them Lucauian oxen. 'The word
Hrtndsclmh shows that the Germans clothed their feet before they did their hands. Old id eas affect new ones in
two ways-they facilitate their formation and also shape
th em. Nothing but fuller experience can correct the
hasty and overwide generalizations that are so characteristic of young and immature minds. But, ou the whole,
the resulting ad vantages are very great; we may even say
that they measure all gain or increase of mental J)OWer.
Thus it is that, other things being equal, those who know
most already are the best fitted to learn. The people who
saw most at th e Columbian Exposition 'vere the people who
carried most to it. 'The Eskimos of the story found nothing
in teres ~ them in the streets of Lonclon.f Apperc~pt1~n conditions all mental growth after the first beginmng 1s made, and so is of. universal value ; but there are
reasons wh y the fact should be especially borne in mind
wh en the imm ed iate source or channel of knowledo-e
is
0
a book.
We have already seen that, to a degree, the reader
must have one life with the author; that he must be able
measurably to think his thoughts, feel his emotions and
will his purposes. He need not stand on as high a ~lane
as the author, but he must not fall too far below him.

No one can really read Shakespeare or Milton unless he
he have something Shakespearian or Miltonic in 11im.
School readers must be graduated to the culture of the
pupils who are to use them; they must be above .the
pupils, but not too far above them, for if they abound in
facts, ideas, and images that the pupils have not in mind,
or their similars, the pupils will not receive much profit,
although theJ may mechanically learn some new words
or language. We read as well as reason from what we
already know.
To read different authors, different compositions by
the same author, or even parts of the same composition,
may call for different kinds of preparation. One author
or piece moves in the field of Nature; a second traverses
history and literature; a .third is introspective and meta- l
physical; a fourth combines .facts, reflections, and images
coming from several sources. A man whose reading and
thought have lain in the channel of human affairs solely,
does not find tongues in trees, sermons in stones, books in
the running brooks, and good in everything. Nor will
he who has dwelt only in the presence of Nature readily thread the mazes of history. Take this stanza from
'rennyson:

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* I1ange,

Anperception, p. 55, Boston, 1803.
cx:tm ples of apperception , see Tracy, The P sychology of
Ch il<lhood, p. 45; Tft in e, The Acqni $ition of Lan guage bv Children
Mind, vol. ii, p. 255; Lange, Apperception (Boston, 1803): pp. 55, 56;
De Garmo, Th e Esse ntials of Metlw<l, p. 30.
.

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"The rain had fallen, the poet arose,
He passed by tho town and out of the street;
A light wind blew from the gates of the sun,
And waves of shadow went over the wheat."

It is hardly necessary to say that the ideas which enable
one to appreciate these lines come from personal cont.act with Nature. It is labour lost to speak of waves of
shadow on a wheat field to one who has never seen them,
or something like them. Now, take the following from
Macaulay:
"Milton did not strictly belong to any of the classes

/

85

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

REQUISITES FOR READING.

which we have described. He was not a Puritan. He was
not a Freethinker. He was not a Cavalier. In his character the noblest qualities of every party were combined in
harmonious union. From the parliament and from the
court, from the conventicle and from the Gothic cloister,
from the gloomy and sepulchral circles of the Roundheads,
ttnd from the Christmas revel of the hospitable Cavalier,
his nature selected and drew to itself whatever was great
and good, while it rejected all the base and pernicious
ingredients by which those fine elements were defiled."
This passage does not call for knowledge of Nature, but
for knowledge of man; and no one can read it with appreciation without a large knowledge of English history
in the seventeenth century. Who was the Puritan? who
the Freethinker? who the Cavalier? What was the conventicle and what the Gothic cloister? And what were
the elements, great and good, which Milton's nature selected and drew to itself from all these sources?
Gray's Elegy moves in a different sphere still. Its
note is personal reflection on Nature and human life:
it is marked by a sweet pensiveness.
Then what a mingling of ideas in the well-known
lines of Hamlet :

reading in the schools falls far below this level. And not
only so, what passes for reading in churches, Sunday
schools, and homes is often merely naming words.
The proper preparation of the mind for reading comes
from many sources-personal observation of Nature and
personal contact with i;nen, previous acquaintance with
books, and reflection upon what one has seen and heard.
Of all these sources Nature contributes to the child's mind
the most valuable facts, ideas, and images.

84

"Some say that ever 'gainst that se!Lson comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
The bird of dawning singeth all night long;
And then, they say, no spirit C!Ln walk abroad.
The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
So h!Lllowed and so gracious is the time."

The import of the argument is that reading calls for a
certain general culture-that man or child must read up
to elevated literature, just as a musician must sing up to
elevated music. Perl1ttps it is neeulcss to say that the

" God made the country,
M ~n made the town."

Hunting for the spring flowers, chasing with the eye the
shadows on the wheat, watching the flight of birds, noting
the golden lustre of the grain at harvest; observing the
habits of animals, wild and doi;nestic, the qualities of physical things, the forest in summer and in winter, the clouds,
and the changes of the seasons-these causes work lasting
impressions in the young, and particularly in brooding
minds. It is because the compilers of school readers feel
this that they give so much prominence to lessons dealing
with natural scenes. Moreover, we do not always sufficiently consider how much more nearly upon a level with
these books the country child is than the city child, and
how much better furnished he is with the apparatus required to interpret such lessons.
On the whole, when we consider how much cultivation
it involves, we cease to think the remark extravagant that
to read John Ruskin is a liberal education.

8

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TEACHING READING AS AN ART.

CHAPTER XII.
TEACHING READING AS AN ART.

WE must keep clearly iu mind the preparation to read
that the child who has never looked into a book brings to
school. First, he has a certain store of facts, ideas, and
images gained by observation, reflection, and conversation,
which serves to interpret to him, through the process
called apperception, the new facts and ideas of the printed
page-the extent anq nature of this preparation depending upon the quickness of his mind, the character of his
environment, natural and social, and particularly upon
the cultivation of his home. Secondly, he has at command a certain store of oral language by which he both
receives and conveys ideas, which preparation is also relative in both quantity and quality, being determined by
the activity of his mind and the speech that he is accustomed to hear. The primary teacher's first duty is to
take the child thus equipped and to teach him to read.
She should be guided by the following canons:1. The pupil must at once attack the symbolism of
the printed page. This consists of arbitrary characters
combined in a great number and variety of ways. 'l'he
first step toward reading is to learn to recognise these
characters, both singly and in combination. This is in
great part a mechanical-mental operation, in which success depends mainly upon natural quickness of mind and
practice. It is an art iu itself. The question of method,
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87

it does not come in my way to discuss; the canons that I
am laying down apply, no matter what method is used.
There is reason to think, however, that the method is not
so important as some would make it; more, probably, depends upon the skill with which it is handled than the
method itself; or, at least, reading has been successfully
taught according to all the methods that have been in
vogue. Accordingly, the expression "singly and in combination" used above does not imply that such should be
the order of procedure, but that the completed work must
embrace both the items.
2. 1'he pupil will at the same time attack the vocal
values of these characters, also singly and in combination.
'The word or letter has a form that appeals to the eye, and
a name or sound that appeals to the ear; in fact:~e
letters have several sounds or, in reality, several names.
'l'he form and the name are in no way related save by external association; the form does not control the sound,
or vice versa. This also is an art ; it involves the association of the sound and the form with the ability to make
the sound. Both acts are in great degree mechanical.
Excellence in the first implies quick observation and retentive memory, particularly memory for sounds; excellence in the second, flexible vocal organs and much practice.
Mastery of the printed symbols employed in literature,
and of their vocal values, are the technical eleII1ents of the
art of reading. They are to reading what technique is
to music. They should advance together. Furthermore,
they should receive marked emphasis in the school for some
time after the child enters it, say for two or three years.
The acquirement of the elements of the art of reading
may in after-years seem easy; the fact is, however, it is
difficult, and it will be called easy only by those who do

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

TEACHING READING AS AN ART.

not understand what it involves or who have forgotten
their own early struggles. The two elements are not only
to be acquired, but they are to be associated-the recognition of the symbols and the utterance of their vocal
powers. Dr. Stanley Hall has thus characterized reading : " In fine, the growing agreement that there is no
one and only orthodox way of teaching and learning
this greatest and hardest of all the arts, in which ear,
mouth, eye, and hand must each in turn train the others
to automatic perfection in ways hard and easy, by devices
old and new, mechanically and consciously, actively and
passively, of things familiar and unknown, and by alternately resting and modulating from one set of faculties
to another, secure mental unity and school economy both
intellectual and material-this is a great gain and seems
now secure."*
3. On the day that he enters the school the pupil
should also attack th e significance of the literary symbols.
Originally these symbols, whether considered as forms or
as sounds, had little to do with meaning; for the most
part the meanings of words in any language which has
reached the written stage are arbitrary. Good care must
be taken that the meanings of the first words, or thoughtsymbols, that are used in teaching reading, shall be already
familiar. No words or language should be employed the
content of which the pupil does not already well understand. The thing immediately in hand is to associate the
meanings and the forms of the symbols, and this must be
accomplished mainly by sheer dint of practice. To this
extent the act is mechanical-mental; but the meanings
themselves, especially as they flow into a stream of thought,
are purely psychological. This brings us back to the

original analysis. Reading involves (1) recognition of the
printed symbols; (2) ability to express their sound equivalents; (3) understanding of the subject-matter. To illustrate, "cat" or "lion" as form, as sound, and as idea are
distinct and separate, and nothing but convention has
brought the three elements into connection. To read,
therefore, one must observe the convention. Obviously,
the first and second elements of. the whole art may be acquired by themselves, as in the case of Chinese schoolboys; the second may fall out altogether, as in the case of
the <leaf-mute reader; while the third.,-altlrougb not essential to the second, gives to it that peculiar quality which
we call expression. Nor will it be amiss to say again that
the psychological element only is of the essence of reading: 'rhe emphasis laid upon the mechanical elements in
the first grade, the fact that at first the reading lesson as
such can not add anything to the child's real knowledge
outside of the art of reading itself considered as an object
-since the lessons must be strictly limited to what the
child already knows-these two facts for a time throw the
content of language into the background. At first, reading is psychological (properly so called) only in so far as
it involves permanent associations of the three several elements, the most important associations being those between the old ideas and the corresponding word-forms.
Not until reading as a mechanical-mental art bas been
measurably mastered-that is, not until the child bas
measurably learned to "read" in the accepted sense of the
home and of the school-does it become an instrument or
tool for the acquisition of new knowledge. To convey
knowledge at first through reading, strictly speaking, is
impossible. The fact is, that if all the time which is spent
in teaching the pupil to read as a mere art were devoted
to enlarging his real knowledge or mental store by plying

88

*How to Teach Reading, p. 15.

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TEAUHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

TEACHING READING AS AN ART.

his faculties of observation with obj ects, and through con-.
versation, he would know more at the end of a year of
school life than he now knows. To be sure, th e art itself
contains objects of real knowledge, t hough of little value
abstractly considered, and also confers discipline ; still,
from the poi nt of view of real knowledge the time so
spent is mainly wasted. But this waste we gladly incur,
sin ce this incomparable i11strument of acquirement, wh en
once gained, is a huudredfold compensation. Accordingly, more and more emphasis must be placed upon the
content of lan guage as the child ascends the grades, until
at last the art of reading is merged in the study of literature.
It is not improbable that some will object to the minor
stress laid upon the thought-element iu the first stag; of
t eaching reading. Such fail to understand that the first
thing to do is to master a mech anical-mental art--they
fail to see that the tool must first be fabricated before it
can be used. Th e pupil should ind eed be caused to understand the ideas that the exercise or lesson hold s ; but
all attempts to do more, for the time, will not only fail to
enlarge real knowledge, through reading, but will retard
the formation of the art. A lesson in read ing and an
object-lesson may be combined in one ; the child m ~•y
get, in the first stage, new ideas at the same tim e that he
acquires his art; but the new id eas come from the objectlesson and not from the reading as such. To quote Dr.
H all again:
" Children are so automatic and imitative, have such a
genius for the faci le acquisitions of habit, and are so easily
stupefied by reasons and explanations, that some seem
to learn to read and write so mechanically as to get by
it no trace whatever of real mental discipline or development. The sooner all these processes are completely

mechanized, so that reading is rapid, sure, and free, the
sooner the mind can attend to the subject-matter. Till
then, Benecke thought reading and writing a necessary
evil, and that processes so mechanical and arbitrary
should be taught mechanically and arbitrarily, hoping
for a time when children should be born with the spelling-mechanism innate and instinctively perfect in their
brains."*
The teacher must remember that oral reading is a
form of speech, or of talking, and that imitation is the key
word in one as in the other. Rules should play no more
part in primary reading than in talking. The teacher
should not say, "Follow such a rule," but " Do so," setting
an appropriate example. A poor reader is little likely to
malrn good ones. The attempt to cause the child to follow rules will breed confusion of mind and prevent that
freedom and spontaneity which are the first rnar),ys/ of
good reading, as they are of good talking. Even the observance of punctuation marks should come by habit or
practice, and should be instinctive rather than reflective
and self-conscious. The rules found in Noah Webster's
spelling book, " Stop at a period long enough to count
six," etc., are altogether absurd. On this point Quintilian
is a safe guide. "As to reading," be says, " practice
alone can inform the young gentleman where he ought
to take breath; where he is to lay the accent in a line;
where he is to finish one period or begin another; when
he is to raise or when to lower bis voice, and at every
turn to know when to speak quick or slow, with spirit or
with softness." Upon this head be recommends one general rule in order to enable the boy to do all th at has
been mentioned, which is, "Let him understand what be

90

* How to Teach Reading, pp. 13, 14.

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TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

reads." The ease or difficulty with which children learn
to read, in the real sense of the word, differs greatly with
different children. Much depends upon Nature and
much upon environment. Quick-witted children brought
up in intelligent homes, where they hear from birth good
reading and talking, will, under good tuition, learn to
read almost as naturally as a thrush learns to sing. Mr.
Scudder questions whether Dogberry "did not stumble
upon a truth, and narrowly graze a most profound maxim,''
when he exclaimed," To write and read comes by nature!"
There can be small doubt that reading aloud is much
less practised in good homes now than it was formerly,
when reading matter was less abundant. Conversation
has been called a lost art; perhaps reading aloud is quite
as much so. At all events, reading aloud in the family
is almost as helpful to children learning to read as talking in the family is to children who are learning to talk.
Professor Dowden remarks: "Few persons nowadays seem
to feel how powerful au instrument of culture can be
found in modest, intelligent, and sympathetic reading
aloud." He makes a. justifiable attack on "the reciter
and the elocutionist," who "of late have done so much
to rob us of this, which is one of the finest of the fine
arts," * but says nothing about the decay of the habit of
reading aloud, which is a still more observable fact, and
one still more to be regretted. Professor Corson contends
earnestly for the cultivation of the reading voice. Urging
his favourite thesis in respect to vocal cultivation he says:
"How much, the charm of beauty's powerful glance, may be
heightened or reduced by the character of the voice which
goes along with it! A woman with a sweet and gracious
voice can exert through it in the ordinary relations of life,
without even knowing it, a better influence than she could
*New Studies in Literature, pp. 431, 432.

TEACHING READING AS AN ART.

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by distributing religious tracts. The moral atmosphere
of a home may be not a little due to the voice of the wife
and mother. The mere memory of a voice which was
toned by love and sympathy may continue to be a sweet
influence long after the voice itself has been hushed in
death. The influence of the voice for good or evil, in the
domestic, social, and all other relations of life, can not be
estimated. A voice may even have a good or bad reflex
action upon its possessor."*
NoTE.-Mr. George Ticknor, when studying in Germany, wrote
to his father that he was in the habit of reciting German to his
teacher and of reading aloud to him in some book which required
some considerable exertion of the voice. This the f~her Mr.
Elisha Ticknor, approved, bnt added these suggesti7'which will
bear quotation :
"It is not of so much importance for you to read aloud to a
German as it is that a German should read aloud to you. Select
one of the finest .oratorical readers in Gottingen, whose voice is
round, and full, and melodious. Place yourself twenty feet from
him, if possible. Request him to select and read aloud to you a
pathetic oratorical piece in German-such a piece, if possible, as
will command all the pow{Jrs of speech and eloquence. . . . Twenty
pieces thus read to you by him, and in turn by you to him, in l1is
tone of voice, would do you ten, twenty, :yes, thirty times as much
good as it would for you to read to him first, and in the common way,
at common distance, and in common language. It is the tone of
the voice, and tho attitude of a polished German scholar, which you
need to be able to read and speak German well, like a German gentleman and scholar. Do the same in Paris, in Rome, in London, and
what you will hear and see otherwise at the bar, and from the pulpit,
and in common conversation, without any particular exertion of
your own, will be sufficient to answer all your purposes and all my
expectations, which are but few, although you may think they are
many."-(Life, Letters, and Journals of George Ticknor, vol. ii, p.
503.)

*The Atlantic Monthly, June, 1895, p. 815. See also his Aims
of Literary Study, pp. 129, 130.

-----

TEACHING READING AS THOUGHT.

CHAPTER XIII.
TEACIII NG READING AS THOUGHT.

TIIE phrase "to teach one to read," as we have seen,
may express either one of two ideas. It may mean to
teach a mechanical-mental art, the use of a mere tool, or
it may mean the employment of this art or tool to unlock
th e mysteries of the printed page. While the two meanings are closely connected, they can still be separated in
thought and also in practice. The second, it is hardly
necessary to remark, is the higher meaning; it is the end
to which all instruction in the art or mechanism of reading should be directed. When thus employed, the student's attention is no longer fixed on the mere art; the
use of the tool has become mainly automatic, while the
matter of th e page .absorbs the mind. Having in the
last chapter said all I deem it necessary to say about the
mechanical aspec t of the subject, we mu st now consider
the thou ght aspect.
And, first, much that has been said about the languagearts in general applies to reading as thought-so difficult
is it, or rather impossible, to separate the two subjects.
This close relationship, while it lightens the work of the
teacher, rath er embarrasses the writer who attempts to
describe the work, making more or less repetition inevitable. The foll owing are the points that need to be particularly observed :----;
1. At the very first, teaching reading presents, or
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95

should present, but one phase. The child can do nothing
alone, and the teacher must work with him as well as for
him. There is no such thing as preparation or study
apart from the reading exercises, or rather everything is
preparation for reading in the future. The single exercise, commonly given on th e blackboard or the chart, is
wholly homogeneous. 'rherefore, when the teacher stops
everything stops. These remarks apply to the mechanical
side as well as to the thought side of the subj ect.
2. Soon, however, the work will begin to differenti ate.
The first step in this direction wiU- bethe t endency to
make two exercises-one preparation or study of the lesson, and the other reading it; and both will be taken
under the teacher's immediate leadership. This division,
begun but slowly, will iu time be distinctly recogniseu.
The preparation will include the substance of all the ele- .
ments of composition-words, sentences, and paragraphs.
'rhe next step in the evolution is the student's own independent work on the lesson. Gradually be will win
standing-ground, and as he does so the teacher will throw
him more and more on his own resources. First will
come the so-called " silent reading" of the lower primary
grades, to be followed in time by the so-called "study" of
the higher grades. The pupil's own independent work
may sometimes follow and sometimes precede the study of
the lesson in the class. This third step taken, all the forms
of exercise used in t eaching reading are present. Supplementary reading deals only with a special class of read ing
matter.
3. Ind epend ent work by the pupil involves th e assignment of a lesson. Purticular care mnst be tak en that the
lessons assig ned shall be on the pupil's level of knowledge
and language. The successive lessons will contain uew
words and new ideas, otherwise there will be no progress;

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TEACHING READING AS THOUGHT.

but any lesson is on the pupil's level in case he can rise to
it with reasonable assistance from the teacher.
.
4. In assigning a new lesson the teacher should, as a
rule, first tell the you ng children what it is about, and parti cularly if the subjec t is a new and unfamiliar one. More
than this, she should direct attention to the difficult parts
of the lesson, also, as the meaning and pronunciation of
n ew words, and the force of particular expressions. In
early lessons all new words should be put on the blackboard and be explained, both phoneti cally and as signs
of id eas.
5. From th e time that they are able to do so, pupils
should be required to study their lessons in advance of the
class exercise. Increasing stress must be laid on this
feature of the work, as the direct participation of the
t eacher in the preparation of the lesson is withdrawn.
There is reason to fear that many pupils, after they have
made a fair beginning in reading, do not think such· study
necessary. They understand th at they must prepare the
lessons in ari thmetic, grammar, geography, etc., but the
reading lessons-why, that is merely so much time in the
class! This is one point where the t eacher will find it
n ecessary to resist the steady pressure of the more advanced pupils. The ordinary reading exercise calls for
preparation as much as any other exercise that can be
named. In th e words of a German writer:
"Before th e child begins fo read, it must know what
it is going to read about. The pupil must read with att ention and wi th interest which the teacher has excited
before the reading begins. The difficulties also which
would interfere with the in terest must be removed beforehand. Everything most necess;:try to a good understanding of the subject should be explained at the outset, and
not at th e end when the best impressions are effaced.

The teacher must connect every new reading lesson with
the sense perceptions already obtained, or with what has
already been read, and thereby make it comprehensible."*
6. The teacher in the hiEer grades and in the high
school will find it advantage s, as frequently as possible,
to study a lesson with the cl ss. Such study should occasionally be conducted on the intensive plan. Grammatical
questions may be introduced, and every pains should be
taken to illustrate the composition or passage. Observation has t aught me that pupils often, if not indeed
generally, fail to take full views of reading lessons. While
the sentences may be understood one by one, the larger
units that they compose are not grasped. If the passage
is argument or reasoning, it is not thought out; if it is
description, the imagination does not work out the picture.
To a great extent, of course, these imperfect views are incident to the immature minds of pupils. Then short
and imperfect views are due in part to the school readers.
The readers are made up mainly of pieces and fragm ents,
and the complete compositions found in them are commonly few and always short. In books prepared for early
grades this is, no doubt, necessary; nor can it be wholly
avoided in the more advanced books. No doubt the
school reader must be a more or less chopped-up compilation; at the same time it is very desirable that the
pupil shall become thoroughly familiar with complete and
considerably extended compositions. The evil that the
re.aders entail may be corrected through supplementary
reading and literature. I approve the method recommended by the Conference on English to the Committee
of Ten. " From the beginning of the third year at school,
the pupil should be required to supplement his regular

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* Cuttmann, quoted by Lange :

Apperception, p. 210.

98

99

TEACIIING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

TEACHING READING AS THOUGHT.

reading-book with other reading matter of a distinctly
literary kind. At the beginning of the seventh school
y ear the reading-book may be discarded, and the pupil
should henceforth read literature-prose and narrative
poetry in about equal parts. Complete works should
usually be studied. When extracts must be resorted to,
these should be long enough to possess a unity of their
own, and to serve as a fair specimen of an author's sty le
and method." *
7. Constant efforts must be made to connect the reading lesson with all other available sources of cultivation.
The teacher should appeal to the pupil's own personal observation and reflection, the new ideas should be integrated
with old ones, and pains be taken to unite the reading
with the other studies, and particularly with history and
geography. The newspaper and magazine, the cyclopredia
and dictionary, n.nd, above all, books of general literature,
are invalu able helps. In other words, the teaching must
be on the in tensive pbn. Professor Laurie remarks that
"the qu estion of method at this stage resolves itself very
much into this: How shall we best use the reading lesson
as a lesson in langnn.ge and through language in the humanities? Here more than anywhere else the cultivation, the knowledge, the sympathy, the imagination, the
educative sk ill of a teacher show themselves. The reading lesson is the common ground on which the true mind
of master and pupil meet." t This. is well said, but a question almost equally important is, How shall we best use
language as a lesson in ren,ding and through reading in
th e humanities?
8. Mention of the dictionary suggests another topic

tha,t demands fuller treatment, viz., definitions. Meanings of words are the keys to the printed page. Still,
the study of meanings is not just the same thing as the
study of definitions. It is true, paradoxical as it may
n,ppear, that a reader may grasp the thought of a passn.ge
n,s a whole when he can not define all the words one by
one, or does not even understand them all; it is equally
true that he may define and understand the words one by
one and fail to grasp the whole thought. The mind may
take either one of two views, both of which are harmful
when carried too far : it may ~ok small points in the
general drift or substance of the passage, or it may be so
intent on small points that it fails altogether to grasp
the drift or substance.
A definition does not add to one's real knowledge
unless it connects itself with something that he already
knows. It must go back to some real or vital element
in his mind. The growth of knowledge is a process of
grafting a new fact or new id ea into an old ~one; * the
scion draws its sap, life, and growth from the stock in
which it is set; and to bring a fact or an idea to a mind
having no kindred fact or idea is no less futile than it
would be to set a graft in a branch of a dead tree.
Further, a definition consists of two parts- the generic
part and the characteristic, specific, or differencing part.
Thus, a "map is a picture" (the generic part) "of the
whole or a part of the earth's surface" (the characteristic). A good definition always refers the object defined
to its genus, and then points out wherein it differs from
other objects or species belonging to the same genus. We
must have some idea of both of these parts in order to
learn anything. When you tell a child that a "calabn.sh

* Report of the Committee on Secondary School Studies, p. 89.
Washington, 1 02.
t Page 32.

*"Receive with meekness the engraftcd word" (James i, 21).

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TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

TEACHING READING AS THOUGHT.

is a vessel made of a gourd," you add to his knowledge
provided he already knows what a vessel is, and a gourd;
but if he is ignorant of both these things you give him
merely a new word, or if he is ignorant of one of them you
merely give him half an idea.
The point just made must be carefully guarded. 'l'he
small dictionaries, which give short definitions without illustrative examples, often prove snares to the feet of both
pupils and teachers. Teaching definitions from the school
reader may even be a harmful process. The pupil may
recite his definitions glibly, when a little questioning
will reveal the fact that he has committed to memory
some strings of words soon to be forgotten. To define a
cent as "one hundredth part of a dollar,'' and then a dollar as "one hundred cents," is merely to run around a
small circle. Too much pains can not be taken to bring
definitions into relation with real things, natural or mental, as the case may be. Mr. Marsh is right in contending that there is a large and increasing part of ·an modern vocabularies which can be comprehended only by the
observatiop of Nature and scientific experiment-in short,
by the study of things.
Another point may be mentioned. It is an invariable
rule that, in defining a word, no form of the same word
should be employed, as a verb or adjective in defining a
noun. To say that creeping is "what a baby does when
it creeps" is not to give a definition at all, not even a verbal one. That much of this kind of work is done in the
schools, is well known to competent observers.
Words should be studied both in literature and in the
dictionary. Either kind of study checks the other. One
is to study the word in itself, the other in situ. A geological or botanical specimen in a museum is not what
it is when found in Nature. The boy who said" an aver-

age is something that a hen lays an egg on," had evidently seen the word "average" in a sentence ; while
the boy who framed the sentence, "John came over the
sea in a capillary,'' had evidently hunted up the word
"capillary" in the dictionary. In reading, thought is
obtained by successive strokes of analysis rather than by
synthetic construction ; the mind breaks into the composition, so to speak, and dQ.es not build it up from the
letters, syllables, and~ and commonly the questions,
What is the force of this expression? or What idea do
you get from that language? are more useful than the
questions, What is the meaning of this word or that one?
While it would be untrue to say that the idea should
al ways come before the word, we are not to forget that
the primal order of mental growth is real knowledge
before verbal knowledge.
9. 'rhe teacher should question the class about the lesson before reacling it. First should come some general
questions about the subject and scope of the lesson, which
should never be answered in the words of the title. Then
should follow more definite questions appropriate to the
subject-matter: "What did John say?" "What kind of
a coat did the beggar wear? " "Describe the house that
the man lived in." "Give an account of the performances
of the dog."
10. The teacher should frequently require of her pupils
summaries of portions of the lesson, both before and after
reading in the class. Also, general accounts or descriptions of the whole lesson. Oral paraphrases of selected
parts will re-enforce the work in language. Such exercises
show how well the lesson has been prepared and how
thoroughly it is understood.
How far the teacher should go in questioning on the
meaning of a reading lesson, must be determined at the

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101

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102

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

time upon the spot. Nor is it easy to determine the question then and there. If questions are unduly multiplied
the exercise is slow and tedious, and pupils are discouraged ; they think the teacher does not give them credit
for knowing anything. On the other hand, if too few are
asked, the lesson will not be understood. It is not always
the case that the commonest things are the things that
the child understands the best. Pupils can be found who
can explain "the curfew tolls" of Gray's Elegy, who can
not explain the line" The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea."

I have found pupils reading The Village Blacksmith who
had no idea what the word "smithy" means. In this regard the environment and reading of the pupil are of
course prime factors. Children sometimes show great
unconscious ingenuity in answering questions. A pupil
of my acquaintance explained the line,
"Once again his horn he wound,"

to mean that the possessor of the horn wrapped it round
with yarn. I have been told by three schoolboys in succession, eleven years of age, that the firmament is a place
like the poorhouse, that it is green pastures, and that it
is old cider. The mal apropos answers to questions that ·
constitute the material of Miss Le Row's well-known
book, English as She is Taught, are perfectly characteristic of children, and they teach two important lessons.
Many of these answers are naturally incident to immature
minds, and must be corrected by time and experience ;
but others flow from bad teaching. Teachers have assumed that their pupils understand what they do not understand, and so have withheld their instruction, or they
have not been clear in their instruction. Every person
who is accustomed carefully to examine the contents of

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TEACHING READING AS THOUGHT.

103

pupils' minds knows how meagre, how incomplete, how
confused their ideas are. In large measure children must
grow out of their imperfect knowledge, and can not be
taught out of it.
Clearness and fulness are relative
terms.
One important caution must be added. To take
up so much time in preparing to read that little or no
reading is done, is a fatal mistake, and one easily and
often committed. The/st be reading, and plenty
of it.
.
Incidentally school readers have been mentioned more
than once in these pages. We may recur to them in this
place, for they are immediately connected both with teaching reading and teaching literature.
One point to be guarded in the compilation of a seri<:Js
of school readers, and particularly those for th() more advanced grades, is the length and unity of the lessons, and
another the literary quality of the lessons. Touching the
first of these questions, again, two things should be said .
One is that the practice of introducing masterpieces into
the schools is a good one. The benefit attending the
reading of whole compositions, and especially compositions of considerable length, is unmistakable. In this
way the mind .acquires a discipline in dealing with large
subjects, in mastering the connections of thought, in seeing the bearings of things and the dependency of parts,
which it can never gain from short or fragmentary compositions. Still, due preparation for this work must .be first
made. Short compositions must come before long ones.
And, most fortunately, there is plenty of admirable material for the purpose. There are single poems and prose
lessons, units in themselves, masterpieces in a word, which
are as complete and perfect of their kind as the longer
masterpieces of the language. Moreover, plenty of ma-

104

'l'EACllING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

terial can be found in longer works; that is, complete
poems and prose exercises, marked by perfect unity and
artistic perfection in themselves, can be found in the
pages of all the great masters of verse and prose. 'l'ake,
for example, one of Scott's metrical romances or one
of Shakespeare's plays. There will then al ways be need of
collections of such material, selected and arranged with
reference to the needs of th e child and of the school.
While we welcome the large use that teachers arc coming to make of the masterpiece, we need have no fear
or hope that it is going to put the readers out of the
schoolhouse.
The other point is that to compile good school readers
requires peculiar taste and judgment, as well as practical
knowledge of the necessities of t.he school. The English
Conference before mentioned made these sound recommendations, which are, however, of wider scope than the topic
immediately before us : That reading books should be
of a literary character; that in teaching reading no attempt should be made to t each physics, science, or natural
history; and th at sentim ental poetry should be lightly
drawn upon. School readers should touch all the main
sources of the mental life, and should furnish a good introduction to English literature ; and that they may do
this, they must be mainly drawn from the literature of
power rather than the literature of knowledge.* Many
subjects important in themselves are unsuitable for school
readers, because they do not admit of literary treatment.
No one would think of cutting a reading lesson out of a
mathematical text-book or a scientific treatise. In fact,

* "The fu11 eti on of the first [tho litemturc of knowledge] is to
t.eaeh; the fu nction of the second, to move; th e first is a rudder,
the second au oar or suil."-(De Quincey : Alexander Pope.)

TEACHING READING AS THOUGHT.

105

it is only when a writer on science turns aside from his
subject proper and seizes its literary elements, as its descriptive or poetical phases in their peculiar relations to
his own mind, that he can be said to produce literature
at all. No discredit is hereby cast upon books of information or books of science; they are invaluable both in
school and in home, but it is a mistake to use them as
school readers. The geographical readers, natural history
readers, and the like can be successfully used only in a
supplementary capacity, sul;lordinate both to the special
subject and to reading. o~ all special subjects, history
no doubt furnishes the best \naterial for such a purpose,
because it is so rich in human interest. Having first remarked that in early childhood "the normal condition of
life is a sensitive imagination, curious, wondering, reaching out to the unknown, building busily fabrics, often
of strange form, out of the material cast in its ·way,"
and that in school parlance reading is the term applied
to an exercise whic~ is an end in itself, Mr. Scudder
says: "Give to ttreehild as soon as he is master of the
rudiments of reading some form of great imaginative
literature, and continue, year after year, to set large works
before him, until he has completed his school course."
This he calls "the educational law of reading," which he
again states in this form : " I repeat that the educational
law of reading lies in a steady presentation to the growing mind of those works of art in literature which are the
glory of the nation, of the race, and have an undying
power to feed the imagination."* Professor Charles Eliot
Norton also contends earnestly that reading books, all of
them, should be made up of pure literature ; and, agree- ·
ably with this view, he introduces into the first book of

* The Atlantic Monthly,

February, 1894, pp. 255, 256..

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

TEACHING READING AS THOUGHT.

the series of readers that he has edited a large part of
Mother Goose.*
The school reader has been called the "walking-beam
of the school." Besides being a practice book for teaching an art, and an anthology of English literature, it furni shes motive power for all the school studies, and particn larly for those that are taught from books. Moreover,
it is scarcely an exaggeration to call it "the walkingbeam" of the intellectual life. It is therefore to be regretted that there should be room for question as to the
character of the great series of readers that are used in
the schools. It is not difficult to find critics who hold
that, in this respect, we have lost ground within the last
twenty-five years. Lindley Murray's English Reader
served its purpose, and passed out of use ; no wise man
would attempt to bring it back to the home and the
school ; but it must be said to the credit of the old
Grammarian that his book contributed to form the minds
of successive generations of readers, many of whom in
correctness of literary taste and appreciation need not fear
comparison with any of the better-schooled youth of our
own tim es.
This chapter relates to reading as thought. Moreover,
this book deals with the thought side of reading rather
than the mechanical-mental side. This is not because
the mechani cal-mental sid e is unimportant and does not
need careful attention. School children are not going to
pick up the technical elements of reading or acquire vocal
facility unconsciously. Some, no doubt, will do so. The
majority, however, must be taught to read by a teacher
who understands that the mechanical parts of the art are
second only to the spiritual parts. The old word "drill,"

which is now so much out of fashion, has its place, for the
organs of speech will not, without conscious effort, become
accustomed to those co-ordinations among themselves that
are needed in reading, or beco~
' e co-ordinated to the
mind, without appropriate exercis . Accordingly, from
the beginning the vocal or elocutio ary elements demand
constant attention. Here everything depends on habit.
Distinct articulation_ and due deliberation in utterance
make reading intelligible ; the one guards against indistinctness, and the other against the confusion that arises
from too great rapidity. Emphasis brings out the relative importance of words. . In reading, pronunciation
must be watched as carefully as grammatical forms are in
conversation and language lessons. At the same time,
the teacher of reading must cultivate spontaneity in the
pupil. Freedom is all-essential. The function of criticism will be made the subject of a chapter later on; here,
however, it is necessary to say that, when the class bas
prepared the lesson, either with or without the teacher's
assistance, and t~ey come to read, they should be left to
read freelyuvt£hout interruption. In this way only can
they put themselves into the work, which is so essential to
good reading. And this is another argument for thorough
preparation; without it the pupil can not be master either
of the subject or of himself. In the primary class the
mechanical part of reading comes first, in the advanced
class last.
Two short exercises will illustrate what has been said
in regard to questioning on reading lessons.

106

* Sec the preface to the Heart of Oak Ilooks, Scconcl Book.

107

108

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

.,

TEACHING READING AS THOUGHT.

I.
S UNSET ON THE Bon.DER.
I.

Day set on Norlmm's castled steep,
And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep,
And Cheviot's mountains lol).e:
The battled towers, the donjon keep,
The loophole grates where captives weep,
The flanking walls that round it sweep,
In yellow lustre shone.
II.

The warriors on the turrets high,
Moving athwart the evening sky,
Seemed forms of giant height.:
Their armour, as it caught the rays,
Flashed back again the western blaze
In lines of dazzling light.
III.

St. George's banner, broad and gay,
Now fadecl, as t.he fading ray
Less bright, and less, was flung;
The evening gale had scarce the power
To wave it on the donjon tower,
So heavily it hung.

Name the writer of these stanzas and the poem from
which they are taken. Generally speaking, in what direction does the Tweed flow? Into what body of water
does it empty? Why is it so celebrated in song, story,
and history? Name the countries on either side. On
which side is Norham? Is there anything in the stanzas
that enables us certainly to tell? What bearing, if any,
has the banner on this question? On which side of the
river are the Cheviots? In prose construction, would

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109

Nor ham and Tweed be in the possessive case? Explain
the expressions "castled steep" and "the donjon keep."
Explain also line five of the first stanza. For what noun
does "it," line six, stand? What are flanking walls and
turrets? Describe the armour that the soldiers wore. In
what direction were the rays fl.ashed back? W~d the
warriors on the turret seem giants? /
,
.
The stanzas having been well sifted by such questions
as these, the teacher may continue : "Now we will go
through the lines and build up the picture. First, put in
the river, broad, fair, and deep, and the lone mountains;
then the castle crowning the steep, with its battled towers,
its donjon keep, and flanking walls sweeping around the
keep, and the captives weeping at the grated windowsthe whole shining with the golden lustre of the closing
day. Put the warriors on the high towers, moving back
and forth before the evening sky, their burnished armour
reflecting the blaze of the setting sun. Over the donjon
fling out the banner, broad, gay, and faded, hanging
heavily in the evening breeze."
The great point in such exercises is not so much to
call out or to impart definite information on particular
points as it is to stimulate the imagination-to develop
the whole scene from the words. In framing questions
care should be taken to change somewhat the words of
the text, or to throw them into a new order. Words and
forms of expression tend to become crusted over, and it
is necessary to break up the crust.
The last thing to be done is to read the stanzas in a
manner that will give the natural colour and life to the
whole. And here it may be remarked that what Socrates
says to Ion of the rhapsode is equally true of the reader. ·
" And no man can be a rhapsode who does not understand
the meaning of the poet. For the rhapsode ought to in-

1-

TEACillNG THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

TEACHING READING AS THOUGHT.

t erpret the mind of the poet to his hearers, and how can
he interpret him well unless he knows what he means?"

3. What did bring the two soldiers to Concor~f
4. How does it suit the English bre-ed to figh f
6. What is meant by "keeping the Past upon its throne "f How
did the death of the two men contr_ibute to that end f
8. Explain this line.
9-12. Explain these lines, and name the leading nouns a~verbs.
13-16. What con,nection have these lines with the four receding and the four succ~eding ones f - Why has t.he poet. int ·oduced
them f Would yo u say the Mississippi "glides," or the iagara f
Explain "the balanced hen-hawk slides,'' "twinned,'' and ." river·s
heaven."
17. What is the antecedent of "whose" f What is the force of
"but"f
18. Why has the poet connected "birth" and "neighbour's
right" f
19, 20. Where are these villagers to be found f
21, 22. Name the subject of" thought.'-'
23, 24. Explain these lines.

110

II.
LINES FRO)I LowELL's PoEilr ON THE GnA vEs OF Two
ENGLISH SoLDIEltS ON CoN c onD BATTLE GnouND.

1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
ID.

20.
21.
22.
23.
2·1.

These men were brave cnough,"and true
To the hired soldier 's bulldog cref:'d;
Whn.t brought them here they never knew,
They fought as suits the English breed:
They came three thousand miles, and died,
To keep the Past upon its throne;
Unheard beyond the ocean tide,
Their English mother made her moan.
The turf that covers them no thrill
Sends up to fire the heart and brain;
No stronger purpose nerves the will,
No hope renews its youth again:
From farm to farm the Concord gl ides,
And trails my fancy with its flow;
O'erhead the bn.lanced hen-hawk slides,
T winned in tho river's heaven below.
Bnt go, whose Bay State bosom stirs,
Proud of thy birth and neighbour's right,
Where sleep the heroic villn.gers
Borne red and stiff from Concord fight ;
Thonght Reuben, snatching down his gun,
Or Seth, as ebbed the life awn.y,
Wlmt earthquake rifts would shoot and run
World-wide from that short April frayf

Such questions as the following will naturally occur to
the intelligent teacher who reads carefully the foregoing
lines:2. What is the difference between a hired soldier and any other
soldier '! Doe~ the word "hired " always mean what it here means 1
What do you understand by a bulldog creed'!

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111

In Chapter VII something was said about the ethical value of
lessons in the lower grades. Such value should never be lost sight
of throughout the sehool eourse. History and literature a.re the
school studies that are richest in such value, and they must be tho
great reliance of the teacher in promoting the ethical culture of his
pupils. Still, the ethical effeet of these studi es should be felt indirectly rather than directly. Dr. Harris has wisely said: "There is
an ethical and an resthetical content to each work of art. It is
profitable to point out both of these in the intf:'rest of the child's
growing insight into human nature. The ethical should, howe er,
be kept in subordination to the resthetical, but for the sake of the
supreme interests of the ethical itself. Otherwise the study of a.
work of art degenerates into a goody-goody performance, and its
effects on the ehild are to cause a reaction against the moral. The
ehild protects his inner individuality against effacement through
extt>rnal authority by taking an attitude of rebellion against stories
with an appended moral. Herein the superiority of the resthetical
in literary art is to be seen."*
* Report of the Committee of Fifteen on Correlation of Studies.

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'l'EACHING COMPOSITION.

CHAPTER XIV.
TEACHING COMPOSITION.
'

FomrnRLY the compositions in schools where they
were required filled the pupils with more fea) and trembling than any other exercise. "Composition day" was
the black day of the week or month. For this there were
several reasons. Most persons feel shy and timid when
called upon to write compositions that they are to read in
public, and especially the young and inexperienced. Then
in the old elementary schools pupils rarely received any preparation for essay-writing. They knew nothing of language
lessons, and written work of any kind was not required.
They were rather left until they reached the upper grades
of the elementary school, or perhaps the high school or
academy, when they were suddenly called upon to produce
the dreaded "composition." The call made, they were
generally left to choose their own themes, to gather their
own materials, to make their own outlines, and to write
their own essays- all with little or no help. The only
criticism was a few verbal corrections written on tho paper,
which half the time the pupils did not understand. Some
of the more inventive or facile of them, by sheer dint
of effort, struggled on and became good writers, but the
majority found little benefit in writing their compositions.
It was a r egime that needed to be changed in every
particular, and thfit has been so changed in all the
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best schools. Still, the subject is often badly handled
at the present time, and it yet needs much careful discussion.
\
In the broadest se?ti composition is the ex~sion of.
thought by means of language. It involves invention and
style; or, first, the prov1s10n of ideas, and, second, their
arrangeyµent and utterance in sentences and paragraphs.
Properly it includes the oral expression of thought as well
as its written expression, but usage has confined the word
practically to writing.
Composition follows reading in the order of the school,
as reading follows speech in the order of life. It rests on
the same fundamental principle as the other langu~~
arts. As the child learns to talk by talking and to read
by reading, so he learns to write by writing. Accordingly, power of utterance is the first desideratum. ~y
must be sought for before correctness ; or, in other words,
the teac lier mus ave freedom and- spontaneity in view.
While it is true that to write good sentences is more mechanical than to speak or read them, at the same time
we must rely upon use and wont rather than precepts.
Formal grammar and rhetoric should play no part in the
early stages of composition teaching.
Obviously composition stands to language lessons in
the same relation that the study of literature stands to
reading lessons. It is a more advanced stage of progress.
What has been said therefore of teaching those lessons, in
previous chapters, is, for the most part, equally true and
valuable in the present chapter. In fact, the two exercises are so much alike that it is impossible to write inteUigently about one without touching on the other. All
the exercises that are grouped· around the reading lesson
should contribute to the composition lesson. Telling
stories, conversation, reading, whether silent or aloud,

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TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

TEACHING COMPOSITION.

recitations, oral narratives-all tend to swell at once the
volume of the pupil's thought and of his vocabulary.
Much th e sam e may be said of all the exercises of the
school. Wb aternr adds to the pupil 's store of facts and
ideas, enhances his power to think, and augments his ling uistic resou rces, will minister to the art of expressing
himself in wri tte n words. Still, the help that comes from
th ese sources is not sufficient. No matter how full the
mind may be, and how flu ent the expression, the composition will not write itself. At first th e child has one
single lesson that sums up his school work, viz., his reading ; but as he ascends the grad es, the language-arts begin
t o diverge more and more, and finally become distinct
studies, so called. Like the others, composition is a distinct and separate art, and it can be acquired only through
th e use of i ts own distinctive method s.
To acljn st one's thought and u tteran ce to the stylust.o co-ordinate mind and pen-can be accomplished only
through practice. In Itm1estock's words, "Habit must
build th e brid ge, uni ting theory wi th practice, by changing
dead kn owledge into livin g power." There are good thinkers who are neither good speakers nor good writers, but
which is the larger class-th e g ood speakers who are poor
writers or the good writers who are good speakers-it
were hard to say. Ascham says, "Ready speakers generally be not the best, plainest, and wisest wi·iters, nor yet
the deepest jud ges in weighty matters, because they do
not tarry to weigh and judge of things as they ought, but
h aving their h eads overfull of matter be like pens overfull of ink, which will sooner blot than make any fair
letter at all." One thing is clear, that the majority of
people find the art of composition a difficult one. It was
said of a great oculist that he spoiled a whole hatful of
eyes learning to operate for cataract, and it is probable

that most good writers have spoiled as many reams of
paper in learuing to write.
How far excellence in writing depends upon Nature,
and how far upon practice, is an old question, and one
about which men are never likely to agree. Professor
Minto has stated the case very temperately, as follows :
"The successful practice of all arts must depend largely upon natural gifts. In writing, as in other arts, rules
do not carry the practitioner far; rules must al ways be
for the most part negative, and a man may have the completest knowledge how not to write and yet dip his pen
and cudgel his brains in vain. None the less it is absurd
to suppose that in writing, which is one of the most difficult of the arts, a man has nothing to learn, nothing to
gain by study-that he has only to know his subject and
the words will come of themselves in the best possible
choice and order."*
While we may cheerfully concede that the great writer,
like the poot, is born and not made, we need not hesitate
to say that the ordinary writer is made and not born. It
is a matter of practice rather than of talent or genius.
The school can do little for the great writer, and he may
safely be left to shift for hims~f, but it can do much for
the ordinary one. Still more, the practice must run along
the line of exampl~ather than of precepts. Roger
Ascham said very aptly: '" And surely one example is more
valuable, both to good and ill, than twenty precepts written in books. And so Plato, not in one of two, but in
divers places doth plainly teach." Quintilian declares that
without the assistance of Nature precepts and treatises are
of no avail. His treatise, he says, was not written for him
to whom talents are wanting any more than treatises on

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TEACIIING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

agriculture are written for barren ground. And still he
closes his introduction, from which this illustration is
taken, with the impressive warning: "These very qualities, Ii kewise, are of no profit in themselves without a
skilful teacher, persevering study, and great and continued
exercise in writing, reading, and speaking."
But it would be a great mistake to suppose that the
main efficacy of examples or mod els is conscious imitation.
As a man unconsciously takes on the manners and habits of
the society in the midst of which he lives, moves, and has
his being, so he takes on the manner and the style both of
the thought and language of the books in which he
becomes deeply interested. The fact is, that intelligent
minds grow up in a literary environment that impresses
them strongly. As Professor Minto says again:
"The obvious truth is, that the man who writes well
must do so by example, if not by precept. In any language that has been used for centuries as a literary instrument, the beginner can not begin as if he were the first in
the field. Whatever he purposes to write, be it essay, or
sermon, or leading article, history, or fiction, there are
hundreds of things of the same kind in existence, some of
which he must have read and can not help taking more or
less as patterns. Th e various forms or plans of composition of every kind have been gradually developed by the
practice of successive generations. If a man writes effectively without giving a thought to the manner of his comp osition, it must be because h e has chanced upon good
models, and not merely because he knows his subject well,
or feels it deeply, and has a natural gift of expression. He
can spare himself the trouble of thinking because his
predecessors have thought for him ; h e is rich as being
th e possessor of inherited wealth."*
.,. Pl11i11 Princip les of P rose

Com po~ition,

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Still, we can not trust to environment alone. There
must be study and practice -and earnest striving to improve. The following directions and hints, as a whole, are
given for the guidance of the teacher rather than of the
pupil:!. Good training in the other language-arts, and particularly in language lessons, should prepare the way for
formal composition. It will rob the essay of half its terrors. Unfortunately, the teacher on going into the school
will sometimes find that such preparation has not been
made. Furthermore, it will be impracticable to put the
older and more advanced pupils at pure language work.
What shall be done in such cases ? No better course can
be taken than to effect a compromise between what should
be and what can be, adapting the work to th e pupil the
best that circumstances will permit.
II. In composition it is peculiarly important to enlist
'- the interest and pleasure of the~l. Mere drill is useful in some studies, as in mathematics, but it will accomplish little in composition. Essays that do not interest
the pupil are not likely to interest others.
III. The choice of a subject is of importance: The
subject dete1mines the pupil's source of matter, and matter
and style yan not be separated. If he has an abundance
of ideas \he is likely to express himself with clearness
and force. If he has no ideas, or few, the plight of
the children of Israel in making bri cks without straw
is pleasant in comparison. The subject should· inspire
confidence in the pupil, not be a load for him to carry.
There is little benefit in the pupil's laboriously piecing
together facts and ideas and stamping the product un
" essay."
IV. As a rule, the teacher should choose and assign
the subjects. If this is not done, the pupil is likely to lose
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much valuable time in making a choice, and to make a bad
one at last. It is important to help the pupil over the
discouraging beginning. Many persons find it difficult to
make a start who write well when once the start is made.
Under this bead still more definite hints and suggestions
must be given:
1. The teacher should not throw subjects around the
class at random, but, as far as possible, consult the individual taste ancl capacity of pupils. The right theme
should fincl the right boy or girl. Composition should
follow and not precede the pupil's interest. The teacher
should choose the line of least resistance.
2. A void abstract and general themes and choose those
that are concrete and particular. On this point Mr. Huffcut has some excellent remarks.
"Every schoolboy has written his essay on the virtu es, and every schoolgirl has filled her allotted number
of pages with vague generalities regarding Sunshine and
Shadow. Consign all such subjects to the limbo of Dr.
Quackenbos's Rhetoric. If you doubt that that is the
proper place for them, read his list of five hundred and
sixty-six subj ects for essays, among which one finds such
as Spring, P eace, War, Death, Life, Anger, Astronomy,
Jealousy, Conscience, and Law; Earth's Benefactors, The
Stoic Philosophy, The Comparative Influence of Individuals and Learn ed Societies in Forming Literary Character
in a Nation; and, finally, as if neither this world nor the
limits of time could confine the knowledge and imagination of a schoolboy, the learned doctor seriously announces
as a suitable subj ect for classroom use The Immortality of
the Soul. We can not avoid a little disappointment at
not finding something about the Kantian Philosophy,
E soteric Buddhism, or Transcendental Physics; but perhaps these omissions are compensated for by the inclu-

sion of the subjects, Mesmerism, Psychology, and Spiritualism."*
3. In the elementary school "book subjects" should
be used sparingly ; subjects from Nature and life will be
found more real and interesting. But, care must be taken
not to vulgarize the mind by the selection of vulgar subjects. The cyclopredia subject is vicious, since it stimulates compilat.ion rather than observation and thinking,
and so lacks reality. · Still, literature is a proper and indispensable source of subjects and materials. The pupil
who is old enough to read Ivanhoe or The Lady of the
Lake may write out the action of the novel or poem, or a
part of it. Shakespeare may be used to excellent advantage~in the school. For younger pupils shorter tales or
stories will answer the purpose. Nor do I mean positively
to prohibit the cyclopredia; it may be used to much advantage in a tentative form of research work; the great
point is to make the essay real and vital.
4. There are four types of prose composition : narrative, descripj;ion, exposition, and argumentation. As pure
types they should be taught in the order in which they are
here enumerated. The bearing of this point on the selection of themes is obvious. Narrative, or the story form,
is the proper one for young children. Description should
not be attempted until the powers of observation are
somewhat developed.
5. Progressively, the level of the subjects, as well as
the treatment demanded, should be raised. In particular,
pupils should not, to the end of their school life, be trusted only with particular themes, but should gradually have
th eir faces turned toward abstract thought.
V. 'rhe teacher should instruct the pupil in the modus

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* English in the Preparatory Schools, pp. 15, 16.

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or machinery of composition. Pupils, and older persons
for that matter, who have ideas and language, often fail
in composition because they do not know where to begin,
how to proceed, or when to end. In a word, they do not
know how to organize their matter. This is a subject
which calls for much careful thought on the teacher's
part, and to assist the teacher these more definite obsert' s are su brn i tted :
There are three units of composition: the sentence,
aragraph, and the essay. Every one of these nnits in
itself is an organic whole. Back of it is a distinct idea.
A sentence is the proper expression in words of one
main thought, with or without one or more modifying
thoughts. It is not any string of words that may be
parsed, or that even makes sense, but an organization of
words conveying a clear and separate thought. It must
contain one subj ect and one predicate at least, and it
may contain more or less subsidiary matter.
A paragraph is an ordered series of such sentences
that together present one phase or aspect of a subject.
It is a fully developed thought. It is not, therefore, a
mere series of sentences, a piece or section of a composition cut off at random, but 11 complete organic whole.
An essay proper is a series of paragraphs that deal
with the whole of the subj ect, or with several phases of
it, duly arranged in order. It is not a piece of writing
filling so many pages, or occupying so much time, but it
is a thought-out composition having a beginning, a middle, and an end.
2. By the tim e that he has reached the seventh grade,
at least, th e pupil should understand the function of every
one of these units. Whether he can define them or not is
not material. The teacher can readily show their use and
relations by analyzing with the class a number of suitable

compositions. Of the three the paragraph will give the
most trouble. This is partly owing to the caprice with
which good writers sometimes paragraph their work, partly -to the slight attention that books devoted to composition and rhetoric give to the subject, and partly to its intrinsic difficulty. The paragraph stands midway between
the sentence and the essay. It is at once both a whole
and a part. It rests, however, on a single psychological
conception. " In all our voluntary thinking,'' says Professor J ames," there is some topic or subject about which
all the members of the thought revolve,'' and this topic
is the core of the paragraph. The principal trouble in
handling it arises from the tendency of the revolving
members to fly off and attach themselves to some neighbouring centre of thought. The pupil will c_ornmit many
blun~ers, and can attain to skill only through much
practwe; and these facts are reasons why his attention
should be directed to the subject almost from the time
that he begins to write. Written or printed matter that
is divided into sections of appropriate length looks better
on the page than matter that is not so divided; still, the
great reason for paragraphing is psychological. It is
needed to show the logical relations of the different parts
of the subject-matter.
3. The sentence is the ultimate unit of all speech that
expresses thought. Without good sentences good composition is impossible. At the same time good sentences
do not insure good paragraphs or a good essay. The relations of the sentences are hardly less important than the
sentences themselves . . Still, the sentence is the beginning
point. In order to write good sentences the writer must
see clearly the subject, the predicate, and the subsidiary
matter. Whether he knows the words that name or describe these elements or not, is of little practical conse-

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quence. And further, the first sentence has a certain relation to the second one, the second to the third, and so on.
This is the reason why it would be very inconsiderate for
a writer to compose his sentences as lie might discharge
shots from a pistol, mechanically. He should rather seize
the whole view of the subject that forms the topic of the
paragraph, and then proceed to write his sentences. It
would be too mechanical for him to count out in advance
these sentences, but he should mentally encompass the
ground that he proposes to inclose in words. lo this way
the paragraph reacts most decidedly upon the sentences.
In a previous chapter it was incidentally remarked that
the child's first essays should be single paragraphs. In
this way the idea of the paragraph will be developed, and
also skill in executing it. In such cases, however, it is
not at all necessary that the several views or phases of the
subject should be sharply discriminated. The paragraph
essay will in due time give way to the essay proper.
Dr. Whately has rem arked that copiousness of matter
follows from the limitation of th e view, and that fact is
an additional reason for ~tudying th e paragraph. "The
more general an d extensive view," he says, "will often
suggest nothing to the mind but vague ~nd trite remarks,
when, upon narrowing the field of discussion, many interesting qu estions of detail present themselves."* While a
boy of fourteen can not do much with the universe, he may
fairly be expected to treat adequately some very small part
of it. A pupil of mine once wrote an excel1ent essay on
"Washington as a Farmer,'' who would probably have
written an indifferent or poor one on ''Washington."
VI. What has been said under the last division involves the making of outlines. To analyze a subject is to
*Elements of Rhetoric, i, 1, 2.

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discover the phases that present proper subjects for paragraphs. Accordingly, when the pupil passes from- the
paragraph essay to the essay proper, the teacher must give
the needed attention to this matter. Some subjects he
should analyze for the benefit of the class, outlining them
on the blackboard. He should freely discuss plans and
outlines with the pupil privately. Outlines may also be
required of the pupil that he is not expected to fill out.
If a pupil merely holds a subject dangling before his vision,
or causes it rapidly to revolve like a thaumotrope, he will
not get any clear view of it either in part or in whole;
when, if he would carefully look at its several phases, he
would ~immediately discover things that would interest
him. Once the subject has been chosen and the plan
agreed upon, the remainder of the road_is commonly easy.
Of course when book subjects are assigned the teacher
must be ready to furnish titles and directions for reading.
VII. Rules and criticism. While the function of criticism in the language-arts will be made the subject of a
separate chapter, two or three observations are called for
here.
One is, that a teacher of composition must not be too
nice. What the pupil needs is writing, and plenty of it,
and the teacher must not unduly repress spontaneity.
'l'he first thing is to get the stream of thought to flowing.
Still, grammatical errors and vulgarisms must be rigorously corrected from the first. Absurdity of matter and
infelicity in expression must be left, in great part, for the
pruning knife of time. Another thing is that rules
should not be taught as formal lessons, but should be introduced, when introduced at all, in connection with criticism. As Professor Minto says in the passage already
quoted," Rules must always be, for the most part, negative."
Again, only mechanical rules should be given; rules that

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

TEACHING COMP'OSITION.

embody psychological laws should be left to a later day.
The leading rules for capitalization and punctuation
should be taught in the lower grades. Let not the
teacher, however, be too minute in bis exactions, particularly under the second bead. Punctuation is an art, and
a very delicate one at that. Finally, the teacher should
arrange exercises and lessons with reference to pupils'
mistakes, as in capitalization and the use of verbal forms
and syntactical constructions.
One very important point should, perhaps, have received earlier mention, viz., the relation of thought-material to thought-expression. It has indeed been alluded to
in the remarks concerning the assignment of subjects, and
again in the quotation from Whately regarding copiousness of matter. The topic brings before us again, at a
more advanced stage of the education of the child, the
relation of intellect and language. From the very nature
of this relation, it follows that the first requisite to composition is to have something to say. Composition is
a real and not a formal exercise ; and the admonition to
" first catch the hare" is not more essential to cooking a
hare than the admonition to attend first to invention is
to the formation of good style. The great writers of the
world have been men gifted in both gathering and retaining the materials of composition. They have been men
of observation, of insight, of reading, of reflection, of
capacious and retentive memory, of two or more of these
qualities, as well as of creative faculties. The powers of
creation can be developed only on a basis of such materials. We are amazed at the fertility and productivity of
mind shown by Sir Walter Scott when at the maturity
of his powers. There is equal reason why we should be
amazed by the omnivorous reading, the wide and keen observation of Nature and man, and the thorough research

that in earlier years accumulated the materials which his
imagination afterward worked up into ballad, poem, and
romance.
It will be seen that the plan of teaching language and
composition outlined in these pages does not contemplate
the use by the pupil of the current books on those subjects, or indeed of any books at all. Such helps would be
useful to the well-equipped teacher; to the ill-equipped
one they would be invaluable; but it is not advisable to
put them into the hands of the learner, The work to be
done is not the learning or recitation of lessons, but rather
the practice of an art under intelligent guidance. The
formal instruction that the pupil really needs should be
furnished by the teacher. To set the pupil at work at a
book makes the work artificial, mechan.ical, and unreal.
It is just as. absurd as it would be to give him a book of
object-lessons.
Much is now said about conducting teaching on the
intensive or concentrative plan. The idea is so to select
and combine studies that one will help another. The desirability of pursuing this course in the language-arts has
several times been urged in preceding chapters, and nothing more needs to be said on the general subject. But the
question sometimes assumes this form : Shall a special
teacher of English be employed in the school? In opposition to an exclusive reliance upon such a teacher, it
bas been urged that, in the period of life when imitation
is so powerful, the child should be kept as far as possible
from bad models, and as near as possible to good models ;
also "that every thought which he expresses, whether
orally or on paper, should be regarded as a proper subject
for criticism as to language. Thus, every lesson in geography or physics or mathematics may and should become
a part of the child's training in English." "There can

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be no more appropriate moment for a brief lesson in expression," it is said, "than the moment when the pupil
has something which he is trying to express. If this
principle is not regarded, a recitation in history or in
botany, for example, may easily undo all that a set exercise in English has accomplished. In order that both
teacher and pupil may attach due importance to this incidental instruction in English, the pupil's standing in
any subject should depend in part on his use of clear and
correct English."*
While the general tenor of this teaching is sound, it is
in one particular carried too far. If the pupil is allowed
in his general lessons to fall into slovenly habits of expression, the good work of formal lessons in English will be
undone; what is woven by day is ravelled out at night.
But it is a great mistake to say that there can be no more
appropriate moment for a lesson in expression than the
moment when the pupil has something which he is trying .
to say. So far from that, this is the very moment when
he should be left free and untrammelled to express what
is in his mind, and this by the teacher of English as well
as by the teacher of grammar or physics. It is the moment for expression and not for a lesson in expression.
To be sure, when the expression has been given as freely
and fully as possible, it is the proper subject of correction.
That must be a question of judgment. There can be no
doubt, however, that the schools are now suffering, and
suffering severely, from failures of teachers in the same
school, as high schools, to co-operate in the work of teaching English.
Dr. Franklin gives an interesting account of the way
in which he formed his style of composition, which is

* Hcport of
87.

Conference on English to the Committee of Ten , p.
Wash ington, 1892.

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certainly clear, direct, and forcible.* This account happily illustrates what may be called the study of literary
mechanism or architecture. While such study is extremely useful in its way, it must not be misunderstood
or overvalued. Neither this bit of history nor Dr. Johnson's recommendation of Addison quoted in another place
must be taken too literally. Conscious imitation of style
is a fatal method in literature. What the student wants
is the genius or spirit of bis model; and the. best way, in
fact the only way, to secure that is to bring himself under
the power of the model. The model must work in him
as a force, not be imposed upon him as a rule from without. The method should be unconscious imitation, not
conscious; dynamics, not statics. The first new sap that
circulates thro~gh the branches of a tree in springtime
quickly pushes off the dead leaves that have defied all the
storms of winter.
Composition is a noble art, the value of which is not
confined within narrow limits. It is rather of universal
value. In school it directly helps the work in all the
studies-in chemistry, physics, and mathematics, as well
as in history and literature. In real life the art stands
the professional man in good stead, as well as the man of
letters. Ability to express one's thoughts clearly, forcibly,
and with a degree of elegance-that is, ability to write
good English-is perhaps the highest test of mental cultivation. It is the slow-maturing fruit of real culture.
Practice in the art should begin low down in the grades,
and should continue, if possible, to the end of the college
course. If this be impossible, as sometimes unfortunately
it is, reasonable pains should be taken to create an interest
in· the work and an enthusiasm for it, wbile it is a subject
for instruction, that will last the pupil through life.

* See his Autobiography,

Bige!Ow's edition, pp. !J5, !J6.

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TEACHING ENGLISH LITERATURE.

CHAPTER XV.
TEA CII I NG ENGLISH LITERATU JtE.

IN preceding chapters many remarks have been made
that bear on teach in g English literature. It is necessary,
however, to suppl ement these remarks, which have been
incidental in character, with a formal chapter on the
subject.
The first thing for the teacher of literature to settle
in his mind, and the most important, is the object or aim
to be held in view. Why should literature be taught in
the schools of the country? What is it to teach literature?
What is taught when literature, as such, is taught? What
is literature ? Clear answers to these questions are the
more necessary, for the reason that quite different things
are taught as literature in the schools. Manifestly, too,
we can not answer them without grasping the elements
that enter into the conception of literature. These elements, as I view it, are correctly stated by Mr. Quick in
his Educational Reformers.
" When the conceptions of an individual mind are expressed in a permanent form of words, we get literature.
The sum total of all the permanent forms of expression in
one langu age make up the literature of that language;
and if no one has given his conceptions a form which has
been preser ved, the language is without a literature.
There are, then, two things essential to a literary work:
first, the conceptions of an individual mind; second, a
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permanent form of expression. Hence it follows that the
domain of literature is distinct from the domain of natural
or mathematical science. Science does not give us the
conceptions of an individual mind, but it tells us what
every rational person who studies the subject must think.
And sc1ence is entirely independent of any form of words:
a proposition of Euclid is science; a sonnet of Wordsworth's is literature. We learn from Euclid certain
truths which we should have learnt from some one else
if Euclid had never existed, and the propositions may be
conveyed equally well in different forms ·of words and in
any language. But a sonnet of Wordsworth's conveys
thought and feeling peculiar to the poet; and even if the
same thought and· feeling were conveyed to us in other
words, we should lose at least half of what be bas given
us. Poetry is indeed only one kind of literature, but it is
the highest kind; and what is true of literary works in
verse is true also in a measure of literary works in prose.
. . . There are two ways in which a work of literature
may excite our admiration and affect our minds. These
are, first, by the beauty of the conceptions it conveys to
us ; and, second, by the beauty of the language in which .
it conveys them. In the greatest works the two excellences will be combined."*
Literary taste relates especially to the second of these
elements, beauty of expression. Reverting to Professor
Laurie's analysis of language, we see that literature embraces the first and last of the three elements. It is a
real study an~ an resthetic study. Fundamentally the
object of teach\ng literature is the same as the object of
teaching reading as thought; the main difference between
*Pp. 5, 6. See also J. H. Newman, University Subjects, Li terature.

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TEACHING ENGLISH LITERATURE.

the reading of the primary grades and the literature of
the high school or the college being one of degree and
not of kind. . Aud this brings us back to the old idea,
that the art of reading is only a tool with which to acquire the wealth of knowledge, thought, and beauty with
which books are stored. To convey meaning is the great
fun ction of language; but literature has also a message
of grace and beauty for the soul, which is partly in the
thought itself and partly in the expression of the thought.
Gray's Elegy, for instance, pleases not so mu ch by its
ideas as by the setting and expression of the ideas. The
stanza beginning .

literature to remain in the schools a day after the teachers
should get into their heads the idea that their great function is to teach "beauty," it would be an unmitigated
curse.
But while literature as such presen ts to our minds but
two primary aspects, it presents many subordinate ones.
It may be studied with a lexical purpose, dictionary in
hand; or it may be treated philologically, inquiring into
the history and origin of words. It may be made. to
teach or illustrate the history of opinion and feeling, manners and customs, morals, politics, and religion, social life,
and roany other interesting matters. The stress may be
laid on phonology, on the structure of sentences, on style,
on the mannerisms of authors. The growth of literature,
the life, character, and environment of authors, the relation of literature to social life as cause or effect, are all
important aspects of the subject. Or the student m~y
- spend bis time hunting for curiosities, ju$t as men have
sought out strange signboards in cities and quaint epitaphs in churchyards. It must be admitted, too, that
these subordinate features have value, but not equal value.
All, or most of them, may be recognised in teaching literature, but not to the same degree. The truth is that they
have variable values, according to the interest and purpose
of the student. But, plainly, these variable factors must
not be permitted to usurp the place that belongs of right
to the universal~rs. It is perfectly proper to use
literature as a basis for teaching grammar, philology, history, and the like, only the teacher who thus employs it
should not suppose that he is- teaching literature. Mr.
John Morley says," Literature, viewed as an instrument of
systematic education . . . would mean a connected survey
of idea, sentiment, imagination, taste, invention, and all
the other material of literature, as affecting, and affected

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"Can storied ·urn or animated bust,"

translated into ordinary prose, is commonplace enough.
Great literature, prose or poetry, and especially of the
creative order, is rich in this ideal and resthetic element.
It is not something separate and apart from the real element, but is bound up with it, and can not be separated
from it. Good style goes with subject-matter. "Style
is not to be com pared,'' it has been said, "to the vesture
which covers a man's body, but rather to the native and
natural covering of the beasts of the field. The play and
elasticity of the close-fitting lion's hide is very different
from any vestment with which the fashionable t ailor covers the lion's master."
We may say, then, that in te:iching literature the real
element and the ideal element-the substance and the artmust be held together. Still, the major stress should be
placed on thought or substance. What follows when men
sink meaning in words has been amply illustrated in two
great periods of intellectual history-first, in the decline
of Grecian literature, and secondly in the decline of the
Ren aissance. A mistake at this point committed in the
schools would be fatal to all sound education. Were

.,.

131

132

TEACHING TilE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

TEACHING ENGLISH LITERATCJRE.

by, the great experiences of the human mind, and social
changes brought by time." ".)(Literature, therefore, has a
grand teaching function, instructing men in politics, in
morals and manners, in taste, and in religion, expanding
their minds, filling them with high ideals, and in all ways
refining their character and ennobling their life. "<
It can not be said, on the whole, that literature is so
taught in the schools as to fill this measure. Often attention is fixed on subordinate ends to such an extent
that the work ceases to be the study of literature; turning on grammar, rhetoric, philology, criticism, or on two
or more of these combined. Nor is it hard to discover
the causes of the failure. Those to whom the majority
of teachers look for guidance have sometimes failed to
state clearly and strongly the true ends of the study. The
classical tradition and the difficulty of the subject together have suggested false ideals and false mehods. Classical teachers tend to lay the stress on the grammatical
and philological elements of the classics to the exclusion
of the literary elements; which, again, is due partly to
the fact that the pupils are learning foreign languages,
and partly to the exaggeration of scientific method, due
in large measure to Ge rm an influence. Often notes and
comments are accumulated until the classic is buried out
of sight. Often the teacher expends his strength on
points that are import.ant only to the specialist. Now,
most unfortunately, the classical teacher has stood as the
model of the li terature teacher. First it has been assumed that English literature should be made to answer
the same educational ends as the classical or modern languages, and then methods have been chosen with reference
to that ideal. The assumption is false and the methods

are v1c10us. For evidence, I may point to the schools and
to many of the editions of English classics that have been
prepared for use in the schools. My attention has been
called in particular to the" Cambridge Milton" edited by
Mr. A. W. Verity for the University Press. Paradise
Lost, books iii and iv, now lies before me. The volume,
which is really a beautiful one, is made up as follows: Introduction (embracing Life of Milton, History of Paradise Lost, The Story of the Poem, Milton's Blank Verse),
71 pages; text, 60 pages ; notes, 78 pages ; index of words
and phrases, 4 pages ; total, 213 pages. The disproportion
of the illustrative matter to the text is really much greater
than the figures show, because the type in which it is put
is much smaller. Many of the notes deal with matter that
is unimportant or merely curious, thus drawing the attention of teacher and pupil away from the "Milton •>-to the
sayings about Milton. Every student of the poem will
remember the lines (33-36, book iii) in which the poet
speaks of the blind poets and 'prophets :

* J. C. Collins : The Study of English Literature, pp. lO!J, 110.

133

..• "Nor sometimes forget
Those other two equalled with me in fate,
So were I equalled-with them in renown,
Blind Thamyris and blind Mreonides,
And Tiresias and Phineus, prophets old."

To these lines the editor devotes nineteen lines of closely
printed commentary.* It is indeed very desirable that

* "Tharnyris; according to Homer, Iliad ii, pp. 595-600, a
Thracian bard, who, for boasting that he could surpass the Muses in
song, was deprived of his sight and of the power of singing. Plato
· mentions him together with Orpheus twice (Laws viii, p. 829 E,
Rep. x, p. 620 A).
"Mreonides, i. e., Homer; called Mreonides, either as a son of
Mreon, or as a native of Mreonia, the ancient name of Lydia. Hence
he is also called Mreonius senex, und his poems the Mreonire chart.re
11

TEACHING TilE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

TEACillNG ENGLISH LITERATURE.

there should be a "Milton" that contains all this learning, and Professor Masson has well met that want in
his well-known edition of the Poetical Works. But in a
"Milton for schools," such as the "Cambridge Milton"
purports to be, it is wholly out of place. Every gooi
teacher knows that the pupil will not learn the facts that
Mr. Verity gives unless he is crammed, that he will very
soon forget them even then, and that they would be of
little value to him if he remembered them at all. "There
are millions of truths," says John Locke, "that men are
not concerned to know"; and few mental qualities in the
t eacher are more valuable than the sense of perspective.
We do not know the name of Horace's bore, and it is just
as well that we do not.
Directly opposed to the Verity model of teaching literature is the one described by Mr. Hudson in his essay
entitled H ow to use Shakespeare in School.* Save as
might be necessary to accommodate the spirit of the passage to prose writing, I do not see that it is necessary or
advisable to change a single word in the following passage
before we adopt it as a general method for school use:

"As to the language part of the exercise, this is chiefly
concerned with the meaning and force of the Poet's words,
but also enters more or less into sundry points of grammar, word-growth, prosody, and rhetoric, making the
whole as little technical as possible. And I use, or aim to
use, all this for the one sole purpose of getting the pupils
to understand what is immediately btlfore them, not looking at all to any lingual or philological purposes lying
beyond the matter directly in hand. And here I take
the utmost care not to push the part of verbal comment
and explanation so long or so far as to become dull and
tedious to the pupils. For as I wish them to study Shakespeare, simply that they may learn to understand and to
love his poetry itself, so I must and will have them take
pleasure in the process ; and people are not apt to fall or
to grow in love with things that bore _them. I would
much rather they should not fully understand his thought,
or not take in the full sense of his lines, than that they
should feel anything of weariness or disgust in the study ;
the defect of present comprehension can easily be repaired in the future, but not so the disgust. If they really
love the poetry, and find it pleasant to their souls, I'll risk
the rest." *
It must be remembered that, for the time, we are dealing with schools, and not with colleges and universities.
And for schools Mr. Hudson puts the mark high enough.
In the hi()'her
institutions of learning, much more can be
0
undertaken and accomplished. It is to this more advanced stage of instr~ction that I should refer nearly all
of the admirable suggestions of method found in Mr. J.
0. Oollins's Study of English Literature, although the
secondary school teacher may read the book with great
advantage. t

134

or M::eonium carmen. The tradition of his blindness is mentioned
as early as the Homeric Ilymn to the Delian Apollo.
"Tiresias, the blind soothsayer of Thebes, famous through the
CEdipus Rex of Sophocles and many other works down to T~nny­
son 's Tiresias. In De Idea Platonica, pp. 25, 26, M., refers to him as
'the Theban seer whose blindness proved his best illumination.'
" Phineus, another blind prophet, king of Salmydessus in Thrace;
best known in connection with the Harpies (..iEneid iii, pp. 211-213),
from whose torments two of the Argonauts freed him. In his second Letter to Leonard Philaras (September 28, 1854), M. compares
himself with Phinens, quoting the account of the prophet's blindness in the Argonautica of Apollonius Rhodius."
*See his As You Like It, prepared for use in Schools and
Families.

/Mr

* P.

xii.

t See particularly pp. 51-53.

135

137

TE ACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

TE.il,,.]HING ENGLISH LITERATGRE.

Within the limits defined there is room for a variety of
exercises, or rather of questions. How far the study of
words, grammatical analysis, historical illustration, and
the like shall be carried is partly a question of time and
place. Ilow proficient are the pupils? How much time
is assigned to the subj ect? Very often subordinate ends
are essential to th e accomplishment of the main purpose.
Lexical questions, grammatical questions, rhetorical questions, historical facts, and facts of Nature must be supplied in order that the content of the passage or lesson may
be reached. Sometimes the general grammatical framework of a paragraph or composition may be considered.
If the aim is to dwell upon a piece until it is thoroughly understood, th en questions and explanations must
be multiplied until that end is reached. But the main
rule is this : In teaching literature, questions and illustration s must be subordinate to the development of the
literary elements of the composition. Many things can
be tau ght aboid literature without actually teaching it.
Professor Corson contends that "a sufficiently qualified
t eacher could arrive at a nicer and more certain estimate
of what a student has appreciated, both intellectually and
resthetically, of a literary product, or any portion of a
literary product, by rnquiring him to read it, than be
could arrive at through any amount of catechising.*
Sometimes it is ask ed whether it is better to study a
few compositions very thoroughly or many compositions
less thoroughly. In my view th e proper plan is to combine the two ideas, taking pains, however, to give th e
major part of the tim e t o the more general and discursive
work. The one exercise will give depth, the other breadth.
'rhe occasional study of a composition intensively is

strongly to be recommended. What I mean is to study,
say, L'Allegro or a play of Shakespeare, with a view of getting out of it all there .is in it. Still, it is not true that
"all is in all." Bacon's generalization- some books are
to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be
chewed and digested-is a good rule for the schoolroom.
If we select only books of his third class, much of the
chewing and digesting must be deferred until the school
has been left behind. The saying that "the child should
pass by nothing without thoroughly understanding it,"
is one of those pedagogical half-truths that are so current, like the maxim " Never tell the child anything that
he can find out for himself."
Mr. Hudson protests vigorously against making literature a sub1ect for recitation.* This is right, provided we
are to take the word "recitation " in its strict sense. He
recommends what he calls " exercises," "the pupils reading the author under the direction, correction, and explanation of the teacher. The thing is to have the pupils,
with the teacher's help and guidance, commune with the
a1>thor while in class, and quietly drink in the sense and .
spirit_,.of his workmanship." Such exercises, however,
should be supplemented by summaries, arguments, and
written essays on selected points of interest. It follows
that, as a rule, the pupils will answer their questions with

136

* .Atlantic l\Ionthly, June, 1805, p. 812.

*Professor Laurie demands, "Why do so many teachers make
lessons of everything Y" E e protests against the "dissection" of a
great writer, and indignant.ly asks: "How can you expect any one to
enjoy Lycidas, or Portia's speech, or Hamlet's soliloquy, or Tintern
Abbey, or the Ode to Duty, if they read ten lines a day-have to
learn by heart a lot of-notes (philological and antiquarian), and then
begin to mangle the passages by constructing parsing and analysis
tables-finally, perhaps, resorting to the degrading process of paraphrasing T"-(P. 115.)

- --

\

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- - -----·- · - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - -- - .

TEACHING THE J,ANGUAGE-ARTS.

TEACHING ENGLISH LITERATURE.

To compel them to cram
Mr.
Hudson does not require, but commonly advises; his pupils
to read the author before coming to the exercise. "Such
preparation is ind eed well, but not necessary." On this
point the best teachers will hardly agree with him. As
much as any exercise, literature need s preparation. 'rhe
ill adaptation of the real study of literature to the purposes of the conventional recitation is one reason why so
little of it has hitherto been found in the schools. Many
teachers can grind on grammar, phil ology, or definitions,
who do not see their way to teaching the conceptions
of individual minds expressed in a permanent form of
words.
What has been said about recitations leads directly to
another matter. Professor Laurie charges the Oxford
dons with mistaking the question, "Can literature be
taught?" for the question, "Can literature be examined
on?" The distinction is an important one, and the mistake is by no means confined to Oxford. Literature is a
poor subject for the conventional examiner, just as it is a
poor subj ect for the teacher who spends his time in merely
hearing lessons. It is too indefinite and intangible. You
can examine on the history of literature and ask many
important questions about literary masterpieces, but how
can you reach the mental growth that comes to the mind
from silently feeding on ideas and beauty? The results
of the study will declare themselves to the discerning in
time, but they can not be summed up at the end of the
term in an examination paper.
Of course. I do not mean that literature, as such, can
not be examined on. I mean only that the examiner must
not look for such an examination as he would expect in
science, in mathematics,_ or even in tho classical and mod-

ern literatures. He must adapt his questions to the real
nature of the work; must take into· account the writer's
aim, sources, and execution; must look to connections of
thought, to cause and effect, to scope and tendency, and
must expect general rather than specific answers. The
process will t est the pupil's grasp of mind and literary
appreciation rather than his technical knowledge. It can
not be doubted, either, that the ill adaptation of literature
to the purposes of strict examination has had a marked
effect in turning teachers of the subject to grammar and
philology, and that it was formerly influential in causing
the history of literature to be preferred to literature itself
as a subject of school study. It is so difficult for many
minds to believe that any valuable education work is being done, unless it can be measured out in examination
papers!
Good sense protests, too, against the foolish haste and
impatience that play so large a part in American educ1ition. .In no other subject, perhaps, is it so important for
·parent, teacher, or pupil to be content to abide his time.
Some one has compared the constant questioning of a child
about a fact or an idea that has found lodgment in bis
mind to pulling up the beanstalks in the garden to see
whether they are growing. I am not quite sure that the
analogy is a happy one, but if it holds anywhere it holds
in teaching literature. It may be a question whether the
doctrine of natural or negative education, which Rousseau
carried to such an absurd extent, be not a needed correction of our self-conscious processes. We express our pedagogical ideas in metaphor::; that react upon our ideas, aIJd
so influence practice. The conception of education as
exercise resulting in strength needs to be supplemented by
the conception of education as feedi'.ng resulting in growth.
The processes of real culture are deep, silent, and uncon-

138

their texts open before them.

up for the exercise would defeat the whole purpose.

- -- -

139

I

i'.

!.r,
140

\,

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

scious; that is the least valuable part of an education
which is most on the surface ; and the strongest argument
that can be advanced for teaching literature is the fact
that thus a habit will be formed and some material accumulated which will support and gladden life when pupils
have passed out of the school into the world, and have
forgotten their more technical studies.
It happened that the history of literature got into the
schools before literature itself. This was due to a variety
of causes, some of which have been suggested. Shaw's
Outlines of English Literature was the pioneer book in
the field. This was all wrong. " Matter before form" is
a sound maxim, and to-day, if time can be found for only
one of the subjects, literature should by all means have
the right of way. .Fortunately, the needed correction has
now been made : literature is in the schools. Still, it is
desirable to teach the history in a systematic way. It
would hardly suffice to rely on such facts as would be
taught, or could be taught, in connection with the works
studied. The subject should be presented connectedly,
in outline, and may fairly embrace authors whose works
pupils h ave not studied, provided they have studied other
authors in sufficient number.* But it mu st not be forgotten that literature and the history of literature are
different though related subjects.
..- w
I do not feel called upon to say how much time should
be allotted to English literature, eith er in elementary
grades or in high schools, and much less to lay out a
course of study. My object is a more general an d strictly
pedagogical one. Besides, those questions have been often
answered by the most competent experts. But I do deem
it pertinent to offer one or two observations on the kind

* Stopford Brooke's Primer

will well answer for an outline.

'

T
II
I

TEACHING ENGLISH LITERATURE.

141

of literature that should be chosen for high-school use.
If this use is properly regulated, there will be little trouble

in the grades below.
Observation has led me to the conclusion that teachers
are sometimes too ambitious, attempting compositions
that are too difficult for their pupils. Of Shakespeare,
the second-grade plays should be preferred to the firstgrade ones: Twelfth Night, The Merchant of Venice, As
You Like It, A Midsummer-Night's Dream, and Julius
Crnsar should precede Othello, Macbeth, and Hamlet.
The great Shakespearean tragedies are psychological and
ethical studies too profound for the high-school grade of
mind. Something the same may be said of Hawthornechoose the minor books rather than the major ones. Emerson I ha:v:e found in high schools, where he is entirely
out of place. If selections are made from Carlyle, they
should be essays that he wrote before he developed those
extreme mannerisms of thought and diction which so
strongly mark his later writings. Burke and Webster
should be used with judgment. The Speech on Conciliation of America should be preferred to The Speech on the
Nabob of Arcot's D ebts, or The Reflections on the French
Revolution. The same may be said of Webster's First
Bunker Hill Oration and Reply to Hayne or his great
legal arguments. Addison's and Irving's best papers,
Macaulay's best essays, Longfellow's poems, Scott's novels
and poems, Goldsmith, Milton's minor poems-these are
sources little likely to be too largely drawn upon in
schools.
I have not thought it necessary to make a direct or
formal argument showing that it is desirable to have literature taught in the schools of the country. Much of the
present chapter is indirectly an argument for such teaching. But it should be said that literature has a distinct

TEACI-llNG THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

. 142

place and a large place in education. Science brings tl1e
pupil into contact with the facts and laws of surrounding
Nature. Philosophy spreads before him the facts and laws
of his own being. :Mathematics opens the door leading to
the great world of quantity and so of measurement. History unrolls the scroll of human events, and is occupied
with probable knowledge. Language and grammar deal
with the mechanism of thought, and so involve its nature
and laws. Art is the study of beauty in objective forms.
Literature is occupied with the human spirit as expressed
in language. It is humanity. Its subject-matter is the
conceptions of individual minds put in permanent forms
of words. As :Matthew Arnold said, it consists of the best
things that men have thought and said. And, to state
what literature is, is to assign the best of all reasons why
it should be taught in schools. As said before, the public schools of the United States now cost the people $170,000,000 a year, by far the largest sum ever expended by
a single nation for such a purpose; but the schools earn
the money, provided they do measurably well these three
things only : Teach the children of the land how to read,
teach them what to read, and give them a love for what is
good in English literature.
The occasional study of a lesson intensively has been
recommended. Such w.ork will naturally take a wider
range than purely literary study. Questions in grammar
will often serve as keys to successful interpretation. This
chapter may fitly close with an illustrative lesson.
LINES FROM L' ALLEGRO.

1.
2.
3.
4.

Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee
Jest and youthful Jollity,
Quips and cranks and wanton wiles,
Nous antl Leeks and wreathed smiles,

'l'EACHING ENGLISH LITERATURE .
5. Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
6. And love to live in dimple sleek;

7.
8.
0.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
26.
27.
28.
29.
30.
31.
32.
33.
34.
35.
36.
37.
38.
39.
40.
41.
42.
43.
44.

Sport that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter holding both bis sides.
Come, and trip it, as you go,
On the light fantastic toe ;
And in thy right hand lead with thee
The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty;
And, if I give thee honour due,
Mirth, admit me of thy crew,
To live with her, and live with thee,
In unreproved pleasures free;
To hear the lark begin bis flight,
And, singing, startle the dull night,
From his watchtower in the skies,
Till the dappled dawn uoth rise ;
Then tO come, in spite of sorrow,
And at my window bid good-morrow,
Through the sweetbrier or the vine,
Or the twisted eglantine,
While the cock, with lively din,
Scatters the rear of darkness thin;
And to the stack, or the barn door,
Stoutly struts his dames before;
Oft listening how the hounds and horn
Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn,
From the side of sonie boar bill,
Through the high wood echoing shrill :
Sometimes walking, not unseen,
By hedgerow elms, on hillocks green,
Right against the eastern gate,
Where the great Sun begins his state,
Robed in flames and amber light,
The clouds in thousand liveries digbt;
While the ploughman, near at hand,
Whistles o'er the furrowed land,
And the milkmaid singeth blithe,
And the mower whets his scythe,
And every shepherd tells his tale
Under the hawthorn in the dale.

143

144

145

TEACIIING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

TEACHING ENGLISH LITERATURE.

These lines suggest many interesting questions as to
the meaning and form of words, the force of expressions,
and the nature and connection of the thought. The following are given :1. What is a nymph? How many nymphs are mentioned in the exercise ? What are their uames ? Why
is the second one called by the name given to her?
2. How many syllables in "wreathed," line 4, and why?
3. What is the construction of the nouns in lines 2, 3,
4? Why are these things in particular mentioned? Who
is H ebe? And why is she here introduced?
5. Why do "sport" and "care,'' line 7, legin with
capitals? What is the subject of "deride," same line, and
why do you think so?
6. Why is "Laughter" presented as holding his sides?
7. Line 9, who is to come?
8. Explain "fantastic toe," line 10.
9. Give the construction of" me,'' line 14.
10. ·what do "to live," line 15, "to hear,'' line 17, and
"to come,'' line 21, modify?
11. An swer the same questions for" listening," line 29,
and "walking," lin e 33.
12. How can one hear a lark "begin" his flight,
line 17?
13. Explain "startle the dull night."
14. What id ea do you get from "watchtower,'' line
19? Whose watchtower is it?
15. Explain the expression "dapple dawn," line 20.
IG. E xplain lin es 21-24.
17. What clauses are introduced by "while,'' lines 25
and 39? and how far does the force of the adverb extend
in either case?
18. What does the poet mean by line 26 ?
19. Expl ain line 30.

20. What is the " hoar hill" of line 31 ?
21. Why does the poet introduce the expression "not
unseen " line 33? To whom does it relate?
22. 'Explain the expression " eastern gate," line 35.
23. Why is light called "amber," line 37?
24. Line 38, what is the meaning of "dight"?
25. What is the meaning of "furrowed land," line 40?
26. What picture do you get from lines 33:--38?
27. Explain the last two lines of the exercise. .
.
28. Point out the lines that give the finest picture m..
the above exercise.
29. What contrast do you observe in the pictures presented in lines 33-38, and 39-44?
More general questions than these may be asked, provided they _::i: re within the student's range of ~nowledge.
Who wrote L' Allegro ? Name the compamon poem.
What do the Lwo names mean? Show that the names are
descriptive of the poems. Show that the machinery, the
scenery, and the tone of the two poems are consonant with
the two leading thoughts of the poet. Why does the poet
in L' Allegro take morning for the time of the scene?
Why in the companion poem night?
How many questions should be asked on a lesson is a
matter of judgment. It will be observed that the above
is not given as a model for the daily lesson, but as a model
of an occasional intensive lesson. In these matters nothing can take the place of good sense in the teacher.
NoTE.-Remarking upon the tendency to bury the literary mast erpieces uncler wagon-loads of commentary and discussion, J\fr.
Frederic Harrison exclaims: "Alas! the Paradise Lost is lost
again to us beneath an inundation of graceful academic verse,
sugary stanzas of ladylike prettiness, and ceaseless explanations in
more or less readable prose of what John Milton meant or did not
mean, or what he saw or did not see, who married his great-aunt,

..
146

TEACillNG THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

and why Adam or Satan is like that or unlike the other. We read
a perfect library abont the Paradise Lost, but the Paradise Lost
itself we do not reitd."(-The Choice of Books, p. 14.)
At the same time, Professor Corson, who can hardly find words
to express his disapproval of that study of literature which sticks
in the bark and multiplies useless questions, still holds that the
grammM' of a poem is an element in its study. "In Gray's Elegy,"
he says, "there arc several grammatical constructions which need
to be particularly looked into." He quotes these stanzas" Bnt in dark corners of her palace stood
Uncertain shapes; and unawares
On white-eyed phantasms weeping tears of blood,
And horri ble nightmares,
" And hollow shades enclosing hearts of flame
And, with dim-greeted foreheads all,
On corpses three months old, at noon she came,
That stood against the wall"and remarks that "the ad verb 'unawares' in the first of these
stanzas qualifies 'came' in the second, they being separated to the
extent of ti ve verses; 'came' is the antecedent of the preposition
'on,' immediately following i unawares.' The relative clausll 'that
stood against the wall' is separated from its antecedent 'corpses'
by the predication 'at noon she came."'-(Atlantic Monthly, Jun e,
1895, p. 812; The Aims of Literary Study, pp. 129-130.)

CHAPTER XVI.
THE FUNCTION OF ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
HELPFUL pedagogical discussion of English grammar
must take account of the nature of grammar in general.
What is grammar? What is its educational function or
value? Why should English grammar be taught in the
schools of the country?
Unfortunately, antiquity gives us little assistance in
answering these questions. Dionysius Thrax, an Alexandrian who taught Greek in Rome in the time of Pompey
the Great, and who wrote the first practical Greek grammar, and in fact the first practical grammar of any kind,
that has come down to us, gave this definition:
"Grammar is an experimental knowledge of the usages
of language as generally current among poets and prose
writers. It is divided into six parts: (1) Trained reading,
with due regard to prosody [i. e., aspiration, accentuation,
quantity, emphasis, metre, etc.] ; (2) exposition according
to poetic figures [literary criticism J ; (3) ready statement
of dialectical peculiarities. and allusions [philology, geography, history, mythology] ; ( 4) discovery of etymologies;
(5) accurate account of analogies [accidence and syntax];
(6) criticism of poetical productions, which is the noblest part of the grammatic art [ethics, politics, strategy,
etc.]." *

* Davidson: Aristotle and Ancient Educational Ideals, p. 214.
A translation of the Grammar of Dionysius Tbrax, by Thomas
147
/

148

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

The general definition we might accept, but Thrax's
analysis is fa r too comprehensive ; it includes not merely
wh at we call grammar, but also artistic reading, literary
criticism, philology, etc., and the discussion of poetical
productions. Still, Thrax was only following the usage
current among th e Greeks. T'paµµanK~, as taught by
th e ypaµµanK6>, was the comprehensive study of literature. The more elementary part of the subject was so metimes called ypaµµarnrnK~, and was taught by the ypaµµancrr~c;, while the more general name was reserved for
the nobler portions. In this matter, as in so many others,
the Romans followed the Greeks. Quintilian says th e boy
who has attained fac ili ty in reading and writing should
n ext take up the grammarians, by which he means the
teachers of language and literature. He divides grammar
into "the art of speaking correctly, and the illustration of
the poets,'' in cluding speaking in writing. In his exposition of the second division, conformably to the general
h abit of his mind, he includes the prose writers as well as
the poets, and mentions music, astronomy, philosophy, and
eloquence as falling within the purview of grammar. Were -.
we to accept his scheme, we should certainly agree with
him that no man should "look down on th e elements of
grammar as small matters; . . . to th ose entering the recesses, as it were, of this temple there will appear much
sympathy on points which may not only sharpen the wits
of boys, but may exercise even the deepest erudition and
knowledge.".,.
In th e main, antiqu ity settled th e usage for the middle
ages. Still, there was a considerable contraction of the
Daviclson, with notes, will be found in The J ournal of Specul ative
Philosophy, vol. viii, pp. 326-33!). See also llfax Miiller, Lectures on
the Science of Language, first series, lecture iii.
* Institutes of Oratory, i, iv, 1, 2, 6.

THE FUNCTION OF ENGLISH GRAMMAR.

149

field ; grammar was put in the tr·ivium, not the quadrivium. It was considered a formal and not a real study,
which was in perfect accord with the tendencies of the
times.
It is easy to see why grammar, as the Greeks and
Latins understood it, should be taught in schools, but not
so easy to see why it should be so taught when we limit it
as we are in the habit of doing to-day. This is the somewhat difficult question that we are now to consider.
Lindley Murray, whose English Grammar first appeared in 1795, gave this definition: "English grammar
is the art of speaking and writing the English language
with propriety." I quote this book because it was more
generally used in its time, both in England and America,
than any similar book ever written; because it exercised
a great influence upon succeeding writers, and because in
respect to its view of the subject it fairly represented the
grammatical tradition'that had been delivered to its author.
Kirkham's English Grammar, first published in 1823,
succeeded Murray's in the schools .of the United States.
Kirkham first defines grammar as the science of lan guage,
and then on the opposite side of the same leaf says, "English grammar is the art of speaking and writing the English language with propriety." No better illustration than
this could be given of th e confusion that bas reigned in
men's minds on this subject. In treatment, Kirkham followed Murray slavishly.*
*It is not improbable that modern definitions of grammar, as
well as of other sciences, have been influenced by the ancient use of
the word "art." "It must be borne in mind," remarks Professor
Davidson, " that the Greek ,,.lxvri. art, correBponds almost exactly to
what we mean by science."-Aristotle and Ancient Educational
Iden.ls, p. 28!), note. The same may be said of the Latin ars, at least
in rcbtion t.o the hi gher education.
12

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TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

As remarked in Chapter I, it is now well understood
by competent scholars and teachers that the traditionary
definition of grammar is false, and that the traditionary
mode of teaching it is of little practical value. As to
the second point, two or three facts are decisive. One is
that good speakers and writers are not consciously guided
in their use of the vernacular by grammatical definitions
and rules. Another is that many good speakers and
writers have never learned or even studied grammar at .
all. 'rhis was emphatically the case in antiquity, when
grammar as we teach it was unknown. Another fact is
that a knowledae
e of grammar is no guarantee of. propri.
ety in either speech or writing. It would be hard to say
whether those who speak and write good English, but who
can not parse, or those who parse well, but can not speak
or write good English, is the more numerous host. .Men
learn to use their vernacular by using it; the controlling
factors are imitation and habit working through association and li terature. Speech and writing are arts, and
must be learned by speaking and writing. The rule isi
that those persons who habitually hear good language
spoken, and who habitually read good literature, learn to
speak with propriety. Dr. Fitch is nearly right when he
says that whoever tries to learn or to teach grammar as
an art is doomed to disappointment. "No doubt there
is a sense, and a very true sense," says he, "in which all
careful investigation into the structure of words and their
relations gives precision to speech. But this is an indirect
process. The direct operation and use of grammar rules
in improving our speech and making it correct can hardly
be said to exist at all." *
I deem it important still further to fortify this
*Lectures on Teachin g, iv.

THE FUNCTION OF ENGLISH GRAMMAR.

151

main position. Professor W. D. Whitney bears this testimony:
· " That the leading object of the study of English grammar is to teach the correct use of English, is, in my view,
an error, and one which is gradually becoming removed,
giving way to the sounder opinion that grammar is the
reflective study of language, for a variety of purposes, of
which correc tness in writing is only one, and a secondary
or subordinate one-by no means unimportant, but best
attained when sought indirectly. It should be a pervading element in the whole school and home training of the
young to make them use their own tongue with accuracy
and force ; and, along with any special drilling directed
to this end, some of the rudimentary distinctions an~ rules
of grammar are conveniently taught; but that is not the
study of grammar, and it will not bear the intrusion of
much formal grammar without being spoiled for its own,
ends. It is constant use and practice, under never-failing
watch and correction, that make gooJ writers and speakers; the application of direct authority is the most efficient
corrective. Grammar has its part to contribute, but rather
in the higher than in the lower stages of th e work. One
must be a somewhat reflective user of languag<i to amend
even here and there a point by grammatical reasons, and
no one ever changed from a bad speaker to a good one by
applying the rules of grammar to what he said." *
Mr. Herbert Spencer enlarges the view so as to in clude
rhetoric.
"As Dr. Latham, condemning the usual school drill
in Lindley Murray, rightly remarks, 'Gross vulgarity is
a fault to be prevented, but the proper prevention is to
be got from habit-not rules.' Similarly there can be

* Preface to Essentiu.ls oI English Gn1mmar.

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little question that good composition is far less dependent
upon acquaintance with its laws than upon practice and
natural aptitud e. A clear h ead, a quick imagination, and
a sensitive ear will go far toward making all rhetorical
precepts need less. He who daily hears and reads wellframed sentences will naturally, more or less, tend to use
similar ones. And where there exists any mental idiosyncrasy- where there is a deficient verbal memory, or an
inadequate sense of logical dependence, or but little perception of order, or a lack of constructive ingenuity-no
amount of instruction will remedy the defect. Nevertheless, some practical result may be expected from a familiari ty with the principles of style. 'l'he endeavour to conform to laws may tell, though slowly. And if in no other
way, yet, as facilitating revision, a knowledge of the thing
to be achieved-a clear idea of what constitutes a beauty,
and what a blemish- can not fail to be of service."*
Professor Whitney tells us that grammar is the reflective study of language ; that is, grammar is the science ~f
language, the laws of correct expression. Or, to quote his
t echnical defi nition: "English gram mar may be defined
as a description of those usages of the English language
which are now approved by the best writer~ ~n~ speaker.s."
The old writers set the example of d1v1dmg English
grammar into four parts-Orthography, Etymology, Syntax and Prosody- and the new ones commonly followed
th eir example. The first and last of these divisions have
nothin ()' whatever to do with the subject; the only reasons
for incindin()' them in the text-book are tradition ancl the
fact that the~ contain a certain amount of useful info rmation J.bout the English language that authors do not know
what else to do with. Grammar is limited to etymology,

or the doctrine of words, and to syntax, or the doctrine of.
se ntences.
Two causes conspired to break down the authority of
the scholastic grammar. One was the conviction borne in
upon teachers that it was largely barren of practical result· the other, the discovery that English grammar to a
grea~ extent is an artificial and fictitious creation. This
discovery came about through the application to the languaae of scientific method. The traditionary English
gra:imar was created, not by an original inquiry ~01~­
cernin 0a the nature of the English language, but by mutating Latin grammar. "The manuals by which grammar was first taught in English were not properly
English grammars. They were translations of the Latin
accidence, and were designed to aid British youth in acquiring k110wledge of the Latin langu~e rather than
accuracy in the use of their own. Two languages were
often combined in one book, for the purpose of teaching
sometimes both together and sometimes one through the
other."* One of the first, and perhaps the most celebrated of these books, was attributed to William Lily,
although it appears to . have been the work of a plurality
of authors. It was called" King Henry's Grammar," from
the fact that Henry VIII commanded it to be taught
throughout his realm as the common study of grammatical
construction. So powerful was the Latin tradition, and
so imperfect the current knowledge of English, that even
scholars failed to see that, save in a general sense, Latin
grammar could not be a model for English g~ammar.
For example, in the matter of accidence Latin is called
an inflected, English a non-inflected, language. AngloSaxon, which furnishes the framework of English and a

152

* The Philosophy of Style.

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* Brown :

153

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THE FUNCTION OF ENGLISH GRAMMAR.

large part of its vocabulary, was an inflected language, but
many of its inflections have been worn away, and nothing
has taken th eir place. Naturalized Latin and Greek
words have lost nearly all their original inflections, and
become assimilated to the body of the language. As a
result, what are called "agreement" and "government"
have fared hardly in the wear and tectr of a thousand years.
A great number of the distinctions that the old grammarians mad e, on the assumption that English grammar
must conform to the Latin model, have no existence in
fact. We still go through the motions of saying, " I love,
you love, he loves, we love, you love, they love" ; nevertheless, there are here only two forms, while the Latin
verb in the same mode and tense makes six. Still more
artificial does the conjugation-system appear when we
take into account the mod es and tenses. 'l'hen we decline
nouns making their plural in s or as though there were
six forms, while in reality there are but two. The personal pronoun alone offers a resemblance somewhat close
to the Latin accidence, he, his, ltirn, while the adjective
offers the widest poasible departure from it.
Similar were the results when men came to study more
thoroughly English syntax. They now saw that many of
the relations summed up in the traditionary rules exist
only in name. Take, for example, Kirkham's Rule III,
"The nominative case governs the verb," and his Rule
IV," The verb mu st agree with its nominative in number
and person." In Latin these rules mean that there is a
certain correspondence in form between the noun and the
verb when one is the subject and the other the predicate
of the sentence, but in English the most that they can
mean is that occasionally this is true, while in most cases
it is not true. These rules absolutely express no facts
whatever when they are applied to the past and the future

tenses of the verb. Much the same is true of Rule XIII,
"Personal pronouns must agree with the nouns for which
they stand in gender and number,'' and Rule XIV, "Relative pronouns agree with their antecedents in, gender, person, and number." Rule XX, "Active transitive verbs
govern the objective case,'' would mean in Latin that such
a verb would control the form of the noun immediately
dependent upon it; in English it means either nothing
or something wholly different. In fact, there is hardly a
shred of rueaning in the doctrine of English case, provided we take the word in the Latin sense. In the classical
languages the cases are departures or variations of substantives and adjectives from their first or normal forms,
said departures expressing certain relations of thought;*
but in English case has been commonly based on another
idea than form. Thus Kirkham: "Case, when applied to
nouns and pronouns, means the different state, situation,
or position they have in relation to other words." Since
form is so slight a factor in the English cases it is natural
that there should be, as there is, a difference of QEinion as
to the number of cases in English grammar. In Latin or

154

es

* "By Aristotle 'IM"w<T•s was applied to any derived, inflected, or
extended form of the simple tivoµa or pf;µa (i. e., the nominative of
nouns, the present indicative of verbs), such as the oblique cases of
nouns, the variations of adjectives due to gender and comparison,
also the derived adverb (e. g., 01Ka1ws was a 'IM"w<T1s of oiKaws), the
other tenses an d modes of_the verb, including also its interrogative
form. The grammarians, following the Stoics, restricted 'IM"w<T•s to
nouns, and included the nominative under the designation."-(Dr.
Murray: A New English Dictionary.)
Il'Tw<T•s is derived from ,,.(,,..,...,, ,,.(,..'Tew, to fall, and means, first.. 11
falling or fall, and secondly, a grammatical inflection, a.s just expl11,ined. The Rom ans translated the word by casus frorp cado,
cadere. Hence our word case. The original idea was that a case
was a departure or foiling away from some standard or first form.

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THE FUNCTION OF ENGLISH GRAMMAR.

Greek, or in any language, where the form decides, such
a question could not possibly arise.
Not only has the authority of the scholastic English
grammar been pretty thoroughly broken down, but the
teaching of English grammar in the schools has been discredited. While it has not been thrown out of the schools
generally, it has become less prominent, and the question
is often asked why it should be retained at all. Accordingly, those who beli eve in its retention are called upon
to bring forth their strong reasons.
1. English grammar puts the pupil in possession of
mu ch interesting knowled ge pertaining to the vernacular.
That would be a mistaken education which, while furnishing the mind with a store of facts concerning material
things, human life, history, and the like, should wholly
neglect the vesture in which these facts are clothed.
Grammatical facts are mental facts, and it is certainly as
well worth one's while to know that he expresses his
thoughts in nouns, verbs, etc., as it is to know the names
and properties of strange plants and animals. As Mr.
Metcalfe says in the preface to his English Grammar:
"In one who claims to be a scholar ignorance of the history and struc ture of his language is no more . excusable
than ignorance in any other department of knowledge."
2. Like the other sciences, grammar has disciplinary
value. Th e study involves a peculiar exercise of the powers
of observation-the forms of words, idioms, and sentences;
and of the realities that are behind them, distinctions,
meanings, and relations. These forms and relations develop a kind of sense or perception that external objects
do not develop. Secondly, the study involves also a vigorous e.xercise of the logical powers-analysis, abstraction,
comparison, inference. Grammar is the application of
logic to a large and important class of facts. The powers

of thought are developed by studying the relations of
objects, external and internal. The first rank far below
the second in educational value. It is only when we can
employ thought upon general relations, which are al ways
abstract, that we begin to unsense or dematerialize the
mind, and so introduce it to the sphere of scientific thinking. The best meter of intellectual power is one's ability
to think general thoughts. Nothing is more characteristic
of the immature mind than the habit of thinging-that is,
of thinking in the forms of sense-objects or things, concrete and particular. Power of abstract thought is promoted most directly and effectively, as Professor Laurie
says, "by formal or abstract studies, such as arithmetic, ·
mathematics, grammar, logic; and this because the occupation of the mind with the abstract is the nearest approach to the occupation of the mind with itself as an
organism of thinking." * Grammar is indeed the only
metaphysical study that a large majority of people ever
pursue; and if that would be a defective informhtion
which ignored the facts of language, a fortiori would that
be a defective discipline which omitted its relations.
Still another point may be urged. It is sometimes
said by those who wish to distinguish English from the
highly inflected tongues, that it is a grammarless language. The fact is rather that its grammar is peculiar
and characteristic. In the classical · languages, relations
are generally expressed by means of forms called "endings," the position of words in the sentence having little to
do with meanings. No matter in what order we place the
words puer, puellam, amat, in a sentence, they mean the
same thing, and can mean nothing else; while the corresponding English words, to be perfectly clear, mus.t stand

* Lectures on Linguistic Method, p. 52.

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TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

in one cer tain ord er. The Greek and Latin constructions
are, so to speak, framed into one another like pieces o.f
timber in a building, and it is either hard or impossible to
mistake the principal relations of tho sentence. But since
thought relations in English are so largely dependent upon
the position of words and t he spirit of the passage, as
compared wi th the more mechanical languages, its grammar is peculiarly valuable as a discipline. As one has
said, "The grammar of English is a very subtle grammar,
and its usages, if difficult t o register, demand all the more
investigation and study." This pertinent passage is from
J olrn Stuart Mill:
"Consider fo r a moment what grammar is. It is th e
most elementary part of logic. It is the beginning of the
analysis of the thinking process. Th e principles and rules
of grammar are the means by which the forms of language
are made to correspond with the universal forms of
thought. The distinctions between the various parts of
speech, between the cases of nouns, the moods and tenses
of verbs, the functions of particles, are distinctions in
thou ght, not merely in words. Single nouns and verbs
express objects and events, many of which can be cognised
by th e senses; but the mod es of putting n ouns and verbs
together express the relations of obj ects and events, which
can be cognised only by the intellect ; and each differen t
mode correspond s to a different relation. The structure
of every sentence is a lesson in logic." *
It is in th e line of disci pline that Professor Greene's
reasons fo r " studying grammar, or rather language through
the structure of sentences,'' mainly run, e. g. : "As a sentence is the expression of a thought, and as the elements
of a sentence are expressions for the elements of thought, -

* In::mgur.'.11 Adtlrcss

nt St. Andrews.

THE FUNCTION OF ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
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159

the pupil who is taught.to separate a sentence into its clements is learning to analyze thought, and consequently to
think." *
·
3. Grammar, then, is the logic of speech. The basis
of grammatical analysis is logical analysis. Grammar is
the form that logic assumes in the interpretation or
construction of language, ·and so is the only strictly
logical study with which most persons who attend school
ernr form a practical acquaintance. It docs not deal
merely with single words, but also with combinations of
words. It hinges upon relations, no matter whether these
are expressed by means of inflections or by other Jevices.
In fact, grammar is in some respects a more searching·
investigation of thought than logic itself, because it embraces all the modifications of thought expressed'-in the
proposition, while logic embraces only the essential relations. H ence, the relations of grammar to all kinds of
hermeneutics, or interpretation, are commonplaces. M:elancbthon wrote, " Scripture can not be understood theologically unless it is understood gramm atically." Luther
held that true theology was merely an application of grammar, and Scaliger maintained that ignorance of grammar
was the cause of all religious differences. And so in jurisprudence the legal sense of language is the grammatical
sense. Montaigne even expressed the opinion that most
of the occasions of disturbance in the world are grammatical ones. It is not meant, of course, that a great
theologian, or a great jurist, is necessarily a great technical
grammarian, any more than that he is necessarily a great
formal logician; the meaning is, rather, that such theologian or jurist mu st needs be a master of those methods
or habits of thought which constitute the foundation of

* See preface to his English Analysis.

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TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-Al~TS.

grammar and logic. Still less is it meant that the study
of grammar can take the place of native capacity for interpretation; as well say that a blind man can use a telescope to ad vantage as that logic is a substitute for power
to think.
4. In a previous chapter some remarks were made
about etymologies and words as sources of history. These
topics arc phases of historical grammar, which has come
to be such an important subject of investigation. The
Conference on English, so frequently referred to in thooe
pages, recommends that, in the high school, attention
shall be paid to the history and geography of the English-speaking people so far as these illustrate the development of the English language.* Something of this work
can be well done if made sufficiently elementary. Moreover, it is easy to connect the history of language with
history in general, and with historical geography, which
draws so largely upon language and is so fruitful of interest. t The extent to which the historical and comparative study of English can be profitably carried on will
turn largely, of course, upon the extent to which the
pupil enters into the study of foreign langnages.
5. Thus far we have not discovered any direct practical connection between the study of English grammar
and the use of the English language. It may be fairly
urged, however, that any activity of mind which enlists
clear thinking is sure more or less to influence the language in which the thinking is not only expressed, but in
fact carried on. Still more, such effect is likely to be
marked when the subject-matter of thought is thought-

* Report of Committee of Ten, pp. 91, 92.
t See T nylor : Nn.mcs n.nd Pl n.ces ; Blacki e : Historical Geography; Ilrn sJale : H ow to Study anJ Teach History, chaps. xiii, ,xiv.

THE FUNCTION OF ENGLISH GRAMMAR.

16l

processes and their expression. If Dr. Blair is right in
saying that learning to compose with accuracy is learning
to think with accuracy, and Professor Greene in saying
that the pupil who is taught to separate a sentence into
its elements is learning to analyze thought, and so to think,
-then, conversely, learning to think and to analyze are
learning to compose. Professor Laurie declares the practical use of English grammar to be, first, the enabling a
pupil the better to grasp the language of literature ; and,
secondly, the enabling him better to express his own experience and thoughts, when he has any thoughts to expres:;i.
He also contends that early "a chlld should, by the help
of numerous examples, be taught to recognise the subject
and the predication regarding it-the whole logical subject, that is fo say, and the whole predicate-as going to
constitute a sentence or proposition. This formal condition of a possible sentence can not only be tanght very
early, but it -is for practical reasons desirable to teach it
early. A recognition of this fundamental fact of both
grammar and logic is very helpful in enabling children to
understand what they read, and to express what they desire to express."* This is the first grammatical fact to
be taught--that no thought can be expressed unless something is said of something; nor can this fact be properly
taught without the development of some skill in detect- '
ing these essential elements, the subject and the predicate
of the sentence.
6. The id ea that the old grammarians put first bas
been reserved for the last, viz., the relation of the study
of grammar to the student's use of the vernacular.
Professor Whitney says that, in connection with spe'cial
drill looking to accuracy and force in the use of speech,

* Lectures on

Linguistic Method, p. 56.

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TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

some of tho rudimentary distinctions and rules of grammar are conveniently taught. He does not say that constant use and practice will make good speakers and writers,
but constant use and practice imder never-failing watch
and correct ion. The application of direct authority, he
says, is the most efficient corrective. Three things are
obvious: that watch and correction are essential; that
there must be a standard of judgment; and that this
standard mu st at first be furnished by a living agent or
other example. What Mr. Spencer says of rhetoric is just
as true of grammar: some practical result may be expected
from a familiarity with principles; the endeavour to conform to laws will tell, though slowly; and if in no other
way, yet as facilitating revision, a knowledge of the thinO'
to be achieved-a clear knowledge of what is accuracy and
what is inaccuracy-can not fail to be of service. How
much room there is fo r the exemplification of these ideas
in teaching English, a li ttle consideration will show.
No matter how good one's opportunities to acquire tho
vernacular in childhood may be, he is almost certain to
form some erroneous habits. These originate partly in
~mitation and partly in the nature of our language. The
id ea of regularity seizes the child's mind at an early age.
He becomes entangled in the irregular verbs, and in the
nouns and pronouns. In households and in primary
schools such errors will disappear in great part under the
discipline of correction, but not wholly so. Few persons
can be found who do not need that discipline of self-criticism which accompanies the study of grammar when properly taught. What has just been said is more and more
applicable as we descend the scale of intelligence and cultivation. A great majority of child ren who come from
homes that are accounted intelligent, and that are really
so measu red by a practical standard, bring with them

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163

to school numerous errors of pronunciation, etymology,
and syntax, to say nothing of spelling, many of which are
downright barbarisms and vulgarisms. 'ro the still lower
stratum of cultivation we do not need to go. Now, what
can be done for these children? First, those agencies
that affect language unconsciously must be stimulated;
interest the child in good conversation, in good public
discourse, and in well-written books, thus putting him in
the way of sloughing off or growing out of some of his
bad habits. Secondly, give him the benefit of the special
drill and the never-failing watch and correction of which
Professor Whitney speaks. For some years mere authority
must prevail, but in time both rule and reason will play
their part. Criticism will tend to impair somewhat that
spontaneity which is essential to good expression, whether
in talking, reading, or writing; but it will ;ot answer to
allow bad grammar to run riot in the name of spontaneity. The critical faculty should be keenly stimulated,
invol-ving the two elements of observation and correction.
Nor should it be forgotten that the most helpful criticism
is self-criticism, although it may not begin there.
Something should be said of the correction of false
syntax. Language is so largely a matter of imitation that
it is folly to set persons who are forming their linguistic
habits to correct errors to which they are not exposed.
The current mode of teaching orthography is by way
of the form-image presented to the eye; written spelling
is the vogue, and it is accounted bad practice to use
copy that will serve to print false pictures on the mind.
In learning to speak the vernacular, the sound-image is
the great agent, and this is subject to the limitation before
stated. The application of this principle to false syntax
is obvious. No doubt these exercises, when intelligently
conducted, tend to make the pupil observant and critical,

. ...
;

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THE FUNCTION OF ENGLISH GRAMMAR

but they may also tend to propagate the very errors that
are corrected. As a matter of fact, however, the work is
often unintelligible; the pupil assumes that an example
is faulty because it is found in bad company, and then
guesses at the correction. Correction of bad syntax and
of bad etymology should therefore be limited to errors to
which the pupil is acldicted or exposed. Real life will
furnish the teacher an abundance of the very best material;
book" false syntax,'' to put it mildly, is of doubtful utility
in the case of pupils who are studying grammar for a
practical purpose.
Such are the reasons that may be assigned for teaching grammar in elementary schoo ls. Obviously, the advantages set forth can be attained only when the teacher
in telligen tly answers the questions : When? How much?
What method? Professor Laurie contends that the method
of procedure must be real.
"To be of any utility, either as a discipline, or as
training, or as knowledge, grammar and rhetoric ha-Ye
to be studied through examples. Grammar has to be
stud ied in and through sentences, and to be extracted
from sentences by the pupil, if it is to be really taught;
and so also rhetoric has to be studied in and through the
masterpieces of literature, and extracted from them, if it
is to be really taught. This last sentence, ind eed, sums up
the true significance of the Revival of the fifteenth and
sixteenth centuri es in the department of education."*
Dean Colet, the found er of St. Paul's School, had said
the same thing in substance long before.
" In th e beginning men spake not Latin because such
[grammatical] rules were made, but, contrariwise, because
men spake such Latin, upon that followed the rules, and

were made. That is to say, Latin speech was before the
rules, and not the rules before the Latin speech. Wherefore, well-beloved masters and teachers of grammar, after
the parts of speech sufficiently known in our schools, read
and expound plainly unto your scholars good authors, and
show to them [in J every word, and in every sentence,
what they shall note and observe, warning them busily to
follow and do like both in writing and in speaking; and
be to them your own self also speaking with them the
pure Latin very present, and leave the rules; for reading
of good books, diligent information of learned masters,
studious advertence and taking heed of learners, hearing
eloquent men speak, and finally, busy imitation with
tongue and pen, more availeth shortly to get the true eloquent speech, than all the traditions, rules, and precepts
of masters." *
A few hints and suggestions -as to method will be
added.
1. Formal or technical grammar is an abstract, metaphysical study, and the pupil should not enter upon it at
too early an age. If he does, the time so spent is wholly
or mainly lost, and future interest is impaired or altogether killed. Language exercises should form the regular approach to grammar.
2. The two main elements of the senten_ce may be
taught in the fifth school year. That is, the child should
be taught that every sentence has such elements, that they
perform such and such functions, that there can be no
sentence without them, that they form its framework or
skeleton; and in addition he should be taught to point
out the subjects and predicates of simple sentences. To
centre the young mind on the subject and the predicate

* Leeturcs on J,i nguistic

l\fot,hod, p. 73.

* Quoted by Quick:
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as the two things that are essential to the expression of
thought, is an important step in education.
.
3. In the sixth year the larger features of the doctnne
of modifiers may be taught and illustrated; also the principal parts of speech-the noun, the verb, the pronoun,
the adjective, and the adverb-and the pupil be required
to practise upon suitable examples. No book should be
used, nothing need be said about grammar, and the work
should be affiliated with the language lessons.
4. F ormal grammar with a text-book should begin
with the seventh year. Etymology should first be taken
up, if the sentence has been previously taught as recommended; if 110 attention has been given to the sentence,
then the work should begin with analysis as before, but
should proceed more rapidly.
5. For a time parsing and analysis should conform to
definite models. This will secure regularity and thorough
treatment. Afterward the two processes may be carried
on more rapidly, dwelling only on the more difficult
points. When a certain stage has been reached it is sheer
waste of time to require a pupil to parse articles, to compare adjectives, to decline pronouns, and wearisomely to
go through a prescribed formula even in handling the
important etymological elements. The same may be said
about analysis. Omit the nine questions that all can
answer , and ask the tenth
one that tests the knowledge. of
'
the class. In the high school, especially, a few quest10ns
skilfully directed will often lay open the whole structure
of a sentence, and thus enable the class to move on. To
guard against possible misapprehension, it may be well to
say explicitly that parsing has an educational value. Pupils should be taught the facts and relations that are expressed by inflections and by position, and the best way
to do it is to require them to <lcscribe the words, telling

THE FUNCTION OF ENGLISH GRAMM.AR.

167

what they are and naming their properties, for that is
what parsing is. Observation and reflection are also cultivated.
6. Some pupils tend to think that the world of grammar is an unreal world, invented by authors and teachers
to confuse and distract them. Hence it is important, as
Professor Laurie says, that the method shall be as real as
possible. Emphasize the fact that grammar deals with
real things and is not artificial. . Good grammatical definitions an<) rules express facts just as much as the definitions and rules of mathematics or physics; and to teach
grammar is to teach these facts. Nowhere is it more
important than here to prevent the pupil from filling his
mind with mere words. Verbal knowledge about material
facts is bad enough; verbal knowledge about words and
sentences is even worse. It is an excellent plan to use
the pupil's own original sentences, as it serves to make
the work more real.
7. In teaching grammar to elementary pupils no time
should be given to controverted points or really difficult
points; the discussion of idiomatic constructions is wholly
out of place; instruction should deal only with what is
plain and simple, or at least relatively so. In the high
school more difficult work may be entered upon; but even
here it will be waste of time to crack the bard grammatical nuts that' so much delight the experts. Such
work belongs to a more mature state of mental development.
8. The first sentences that are chosen for analysis should
be isolated as well as easy ones. If not, the pupil is likely
to become confused and to miss liis way. But in the
eighth grade, and still more in the high school, real literature should be used as material. In this way pupils will
get a much-needed lesson in the continuity of thought,

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and in that larger grammatical structure which extends
beyond the sentence, while grammar will be relieved of
something of its barrenness. A connection should be established between grammar and literature and reading.
Some literary questions should be introduced into the exercises and examination papers. Instead of putting down
one or two disconnected sentences to be analyzed and
parsed, place before the class a paragraph of prose or two
or more stanzas of verse. The kind of exercise here
:ecommended ~vill show pupils that analysis is the great
mstrument of mterpretation.
One important question is left unanswered , save as
the answer is involved in what has been said. This is
~he que~ti on : What should be tau ght for grammar? In
its details, the subject is much too large for this place.
Some examples of grammatical questions that go to
the heart of a composition will be found in illustrative
exercises at the close of previous chapters. A further
exercise is given in this place.
STANZAS FRO~I TENNYSON'S ODE ON THE DEATH OF
THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

1.
Bury the Great Duke
With an empire's lamentation,
Let us bury the Great Duke
To the noise of the mourning of a mighty nation,
Mourning when their leaders fall,
Warriors carry the warrior's pall,
And sorrow darkens hamlet and hall.

2.
Where shall we lay the man whom we deplore f
Here, in streaming London's central roar.
J, et the sound of those he wrought for,

And the feet of those he fought for,
Echo round his bones for evermore.

3.
Lead out the pageant: sad and slow,
As fits an universal woe,
L et the long, long procession go,
And let the sorrowing crowd about it grow,
And let the mournful martial music blow;
The last great Englishman is low.

The Duke of Wellington is buried in St. Paul's, the
Cathedral Church of London. These questions may be
asked:1. What empire is meant? What is an empire's
lamentation? Explain line 6, stanza 1. Explain "hamlet and ball." Why is London called "streaming"?
What is meant by the "feet echoing," etc.? What is a
pageant?
2. Analyze the sentences of ~tanza 2.
3. Give case and construction of "Great Duke," line
1, "us," line 3, "pall,'' line 6, stanza 1; "whom,'' "London's,'' and " bones," in stanza 2.
4. What parts of speech is " mourning" in lines 4 and
5, first stanza'?
5. Parse " warriors " and " warrior's " in line 6 of
same stanza.
6. What mode is "bury" in lines 1 and 3?
7. What parts of speech are "sad" and "slow" in line
1, stanza 3?
8. Give the principal parts of the verbs in the last ·
stanza?
This exercise is not above the eighth grade, provided
the pupils have been properly taug4t. How many questions shall be asked, and how extended a passage shall
/

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form the basis of the exercise, are questions of judgment
for the teacher to answer, in which the strength of the
pupils and the length of time that can be used will be
controlling factors. When pupils are ready for such work
as this, it is sheer folly to keep them grinding in the oldfashioned mill of analysis and parsing.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE FUNCTION OF RHETORIC.

THE history of rhetoric shows quite as much contrariety of view on the part of writers as to the nature and
scope of the subject as the history of grammar. A slight
resume will answer our purpose.
Aristotle, author of the first systematic treatise on the
subject that has come down to us, delivers this definition:
" A faculty of considering all the possible means of persuasion on every subject."* He first inquires into the
means employed in persuasion, and then treats of arrangement, style, and delivery._ Quintilian, foremost of the
Latin writers, considers rhetoric, oratory, and eloquence as
the same thing, and gives this definition: "Oratory is the
art of speaking well." t Dr. Campbell, like Quintilian,
considers rhetoric and eloquence as coextensive. "The
word 'eloquence,' in its greatest latitude," he says, " denotes 'that art or talent by which the discourse is adapted
to its end.' " t
Dr. Blair's Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles-Lettres,
which was once more generally used in English and
American schools than any other text-book on its subject, contains no definition. Dr. Whately's Elements of
Rhetoric is consistently built up on this definition :

* Book I,

t f9id; II, chap. xv.

chap. ii.

:j: Philosophy of Rhetoric, Book I, chap. i.

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"The finding of suitable arguments to prove a given
point, and the skilful arrangement of them, may be considered as the immediate and proper province of rhetoric,
and of that alone." ·xThese definitions are all in terms of art. Still, it
would be a great mistake to suppose that the books from
wbich they are taken all conform to that view of the
subject. Aristotle's Rhetoric is thoroughly scientific,
although not lacki ng in rules and prac tical suggestions.
Quintilian's Institutes, while not destitute of principles,
is rather a book of methods and practical suggestions.
" Who is so destitute of common sense," be asks, " as
to imagine that the work of building, or weaving, or
moulding vessels out of clay is an art, but that oratory,
the greatest and noblest of works, has attained such
a height of excellence without being an art? "t Still,
it must be said that the question in his mind is not so
much a discrimin ation between art and science as it is
between artistic oratory and natural oratory. Quintilian
treated the subject so broadly as to become a conspicuous
example of those ancient writers who, according to Dr.
Whately, "thought it necessary to in clude, as belonging
to the art, everything that cou ld conduce to the attain. ment of t he object proposed,'' and "introduced into
their systems treatises on law, morals, politics, etc., on
the ground that a knowled ge of these subjects was
requisite to enable a man to speak well on them ; and
even insisted on vi rtu e as an essential qualification of
a perfect orator." t Dr. Campbell's title, Philosophy of
Rh etoric, suggests a scientific treatise, and such is the
character of bis very able book. Dr. Blair says if his
* P art 1, chap. ii.
t Book 11, chap. xvii, 3.
t E lements of Rhetoric, In troduction.

THE FUNCTION OF RHETORIC.

173

work has any merit it will consist in an endeavour to substitute the application of the principles of reason and
good sense in the place of artificial and scholastic rhetoric.* The same may be said of Dr. Whately's Elements as of Dr. Campbell's Philosophy ; the treatment
is scientific. Something of this confusion of thought and
practice is no doubt due to the sense of the term "art"
bequeathed by antiquity to modern times that has been
remarked upon. Still, it would be wrong to suppose
that such writers as Campbell ancl Whately did not see
the distinction.
The authors of the t ext-books in current use tend
decidedly to follow the old mod el. One prolific writer
defin es rhetoric as " the art of efficient communication."
"It is the art," he says, "to the principles of which, consciously or unconsciously, a good writer or speaker must
conform." This definition is found in a book entitled
The Principles of Rhetoric. ¥oreover, the author defends his definltion by saying that rhetoric " is an art,
not a science; for it neither observes, nor discovers, .nor
classifies ; but it shows how to convey from one mind to
another the results of observation, discovery, or classification; it uses knowledge, not as knowledge, but as power." t Yes; but rhetoric does observe, discover, and classify its own processes. Another popular writer gives us
the following definition : " Rhetoric, therefore, is the art
of expressing one's thoughts with skill, of giving to one's
composition the qualities that it ought to have in order to
accomplish its author's design." t And such is the general tenor of this class of works.#
*Lecture i.
t A. S. Hill: The PrincipleR of Rhetoric, Introduction.
t Genung: Outlines of Rhetoric, In troduction.
#Dr. D. J. Hill observes that the rh etorical process is complete
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Now, with all deference to authority, we may say that
there are plainly three points of view from which rhetoric
may be considered, as follows :1. It is a science : it is occupied with the principles
that und erlie the expression of thought by means of language. These principles are laws of the human mind;
they are discovered by psychological analysis of the mind,
and are confirmed by the study of literary masterpieces.
2. It is an art in the reflective sense of th at term : it
lays down the rules, precepts, or methods that govern the
expression of thought by means of language. These rules
are ded uced from the corresponding principles.
3.. Rhetoric is also practice or exercise in th e expression of thought. Moreover, this is the original signification of the word.
Slight examination of the t ext-books on rhetoric in
current use suffices to show that they contain matter which
falls under every on e of th ese heads. They are partly scientific and partly practical; they contain some principl es
or laws, some rul es or precepts, some exercises or practical
lessons. They are therefore a compound of science and
of art under both aspects of art.
We come now to the real subject of the present chapter. This is the educational worth of rhetoric as taught,
or as it should be taught, in schools. As everything that
needs to be said of the primal value of exercises in comonly when the ideas of the spe1Lker or writer are "referred to the
pre-existing ideas of the person add ressed in such a manner that
they will affect the desired change." "All mental changes," he
says, "take place in accordance with certain laws," and then pro_
pounds th is defini tion: "As an art, rhetoric communicates ideas
according to these Jaws; as a science, it di scovers and establishes
these laws. Rhetoric is therefore the science of the laws of effective
discourse."-(Thc Science of Rhetoric, Introd uction.)

THE FUNCTION OF RHETORIC.

175
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position has been said already, we may confine our attention to principles and rules, with incidental remarks on
the third topic.
As mental disciplines the science and the art of rhetorio have the same kind of value a1> the other studies
belonging to the philosophic group. They stim~late observation and analysis. They deal with the philosophy
of effective expression by means of language. T hey take
hold both of thought and of the medium by which it is
conveyed. Rhetoric deals with the universal element of
expression; or, as Aristotle says, "It is conversant, not
with any one distinct class of subjects, but like l?gic [~s
of universal applicability] "; or again, "Its busmcss is
not absolute persuasion, but to consider on every subj ect
what means of persuasion are inherent· in it."* H ence,
psychological elements are involved.
It has been contended that rhetoric is a valuable moral
discipline. This is a.favourite view of Quintilian, who returns to it again and again. H e insists that virtue is an
element of oratory. If it be objected that a vicious man
may succeed ·in an exordium, a statement of facts, or a
series of arguments, he replies t hat so a robber may show
the virtue of fortitude and a slave the virtue of endurance.t Dr. Whately corrects Quintilian's exaggerated
view, saying that building materials are no part of architecture, although it is impossible to build without them,
or subject-matter a part of rhetoric because there can be
no speech or writing without it; and "that thou gh virtue
and the good reputation it procures "Rdd materially to the
speaker's influence, they are no more to be, for th at reason, considered as belonging to th µ rator as such than
wealth, rank, or a good person, which manifestly have a

* Book I,

chap. ii.

t

Book Il , chap. ii.

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THE FUNCTION OF RHETORIC.

tendency to procure the same effect."* 'l'he real question
lies deeper : it is the relation of resthetics and ethics, and
will be touched in the ensuing paragraph.
Rhetoric is a culture study as well as a disciplinary
one. It fits the mind for the keener and more rational
enjoyment of works of rhetorical art. While the enjoyments of taste- the sentim ent of the beautiful as an absolute quality-is native to the mind, these enjoyments are
greatly strengthened and elevated by cultivation. The
notion that there is a universal standard of taste is a part
of that sentimen tal view of human nature which came in
with Rousseau. The rustic who said the paint on Rosa
Bonheur's Horse Fair could not have cost more than
ten francs had not studied resthetics. On the negative
side th e argument is equally convincing. Men can not
constantly follow their chosen vocations, but must have
avocation s as well. Ans\vering the question, How shall
the vacant spaces in life be filled up? Dr. Blair says that
it can not be done more agreeably in itself, and more consistently with the dignity of the human mind, than in the
entertainments of taste and the study of literature. "He
who is so happy as to have acquired a relish for these has
always at hand an innocent and irreproachable amusement
for his leisure hours, to save him from the danger of many
a perniciou s passion. He is not in hazard of being a danger to himself. He is not obliged to fly low company or
to court the rest of loose pleasures in order to cure the
t ediousness of existence." t The tapping of the fountains
of the higher en joyments-the opening up of the nobler
tastes-is a godsend to any person, and particularly to any
one who tends toward coarse pleasures.
It is to be feared that the reasons assigned above for

the study of rhetoric will not prove very convincing to
many minds. At least, we must boldly face the qu e~ti?n
that the typical American puts to everything, "~~at is its
practical value?" 'l'he question may be subdivided : Is
literary and oratorical skill desira?l~ or not? D~es the
study of rhetoric conduce to the gammg of such skill, ~nd
if so to what extent? Fortunately, the second question
is th~ only one that we need to consider. .
.
The confidence with which the old writers laid down
their rules is well known to all persons who have read
their books. Butler's well-known lines-

* Introdu ction.

t Lec ture I.

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" All a rhetorician's rules
Teach him but to name his tools"-

express the sceptical view of their value. At th_e. present time, the opinion of many teachers and _c ntics of
education runs in this d.irection. Let us see if we can
discover where the truth lies.
The rules of rhetoric are of two kinds, mech an ical
and psychological. The rules for capitalization p'.ainly
belong to the first class. There is a mental conven~ence,
to be sure in some of them, as the one that reqmres a
sentence ;o begin with a capital letter; but this rational
element is so slight that we may drop it out of sight altogether. 'rhese rules are plainly conventional. Much
the same may be said of punctuation. A ~unctuati~n
scheme is mechanical but extremely convement. It is,
indeed based on the articulations of thought, and requires ~lear insight, but this does not r~move t he subject
from the mechanical category. Agam, the rule that
limits the use of words to the idiom of the language ~ s
also conventional. If it be said that the use of domestic
words rather than foreign ones, or of live words in preference to dead ones, consults economy of effort, we may
reply that the inhibition of slang is often enforced at the

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TEACIIING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

c_ost o.f. energy. Purity of diction rests on the conven~10nal.1 t~cs of speech, and can never be absolutely secured
lll a hvmg language.
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.L~ ow, rt must be clear to everybody that some mechanical r~1les are indispensable to correct writing. It is not
pe1:m1tted eYen to genius to capitalize and punctuate just
a~ rt pleases, or not at all. Such rules make up the techn.1 qu~ of composition. Still further, powerful as imitat10n is, no one will learn through it the arts of capitalizat1.~~ ~nd pnc~ctuation. There must be rules, practice, and
c11 ttc1srn. I hese rules may be furnished by a teacher
rat~rnr than a book, but that makes no difference.
Ner th~r will imitation be found an effectual safeguard
even Ill respect to purity of diction. Some forbidden
words arc likely to find their way into the vocabulary of
~he best-bred boys and girls, while an abundance will flow
r~to the vocabulary of the majority. Hence the question, " How shall the barbarisms, and especially the slang
that infest popu lar speech be kept out of the writte~
style of schoolboys and schoolgirls?" I have strongly
recommend ed th e constant use of good literature as a
catharsis in English. Still, something more is necessary
than merely to get pupils as far as possible to read good
bo.oks and hear good conversations, important as these
thmgs .are; there must be, as before, a resort to faithful
~orrecbon. Experience shows that the pupil is little
hkely wholly to grow off his more inveterate faults, and
resort mu st be had to the pruning knife.
The psychological elements of rhetoric are facts of
the ~~man mi~d.. Such are the rules for propriety and
p_rec1s1on of d1ct10n ; they directly affect a writer's efficiency, for if words arc used in strange senses, or if they
mean m.ore or less than the writer means, the reader is
thrown mto con fn sion. Imitation is the mainstay in secl1r-

TilE FUNCTION OF RHETORIC.

179

ing these qualities, but it alone will not prove effectual.
Again, the rules prescribed for the construction of sentences are purely psychological. Imitation is here less
powerful than in matters that are more mechanical, and
more depends upon the writer's creative faculties. It is
manifest, for example, that the writer who has had his
mind centred on the rule for . unity is a much more com- petent critic of his own composition or of the composition
of another than the writer who has not bad such training;
and that bis criticisms, if persisted in, will favourably affect
bis own style. To be more definite, it will hardly be denied
that the student who has grasped the precept that changes
of the central subject of thought in a sentence destroy
unity is more likely to keep his eye on this quality than
the student who has not done so. Similar reasoning will
hold of all the other essential proprieties of style. Study
of the rule will secure a more careful thinking-out of the
matter, and so better sentences. In numerous places I
have laid stress on freedom and spontaneity in writing.
What is here said of rules does not conflict with that doctrin.e ; for the beneficial effect of criticism flows into style
through unconscious cerebration. It is in this way that
a second nature is created.
,_,,/
The current text-books give much space to figures of
speech, and we may well consider that branch of the subject. However, the only question that we need to answer
is, whether the writer who studies rhetoric will handle his
fi<Yures
better than the writer. who does not.
b
First, it is clear that the definitions of figures express
facts of the mind. The mind affirms the likeness and
the sameness of things different; it delights in sharp contrasts and in brief pointed sayings; it attributes life to
what is dead and brings th~ absent into its presence; it
uses the name of one thing for another, and also ex-

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THE FUNCTION OF RHETORIC.

changes the whole and the part. Is the careful discrimination of one of these figures from another, as simile
from metap hor, or synecdoche from metonomy, of practical utility in the expression of thought? It may be
answered that in respect to nothing is the young and ambitious writer of an active imagination more likely to go
astray than in respect to figures. Still further, such a
writer can hardly fail to derive advantage from a clearer
thinkin g out of the doctrine of figures and the definitions
of the lead ing figures separately. He may not think
"personification" or "metaphor" as he writes, but his
thinking will influence his writing nevertheless. Still
more may be claimed for the rules relating to figures.
Th e exubcra.nt writer needs the discipline of good criticism as well as the influence of good models. And criticism always means rules. Reference may be made to the
rul es in regard to basing figures on distant resemblances,
to putting two or more metaphors in one sentence, and
th e overcrowding and mixing up of figures in general.
Let us take a broader view of the subject. In his
well-known essay entitled The Philosophy of Style, Herbert Spencer find s the causes of force in language in the
principle of economy of the mental energies and sensibilities. After quoting some of the familiar adages, as
that long sentences fatigue the reader, parentheses and
involved constructions should be avoided, and SaxonEnglish words should be preferred to Latin-English, he
thus states the principle that explains them:
"On seeking for some clue to the law underlying
these current maxims, we may see shadowed forth in
many of them the importance of economizing the reader's
or hearer's attention. To so present ideas that they may
be apprehended with the least possible mental effort is
th e desideratnm toward which most of the rules above

quoted point. When we condemn writing that is wordy,
or confused, or intricate-when we praise this style as
easy, and blame that as fatig:iing-we consciously or unconsciously assume this desideratum as our standard of
judgment. Regarding language as an apparatus of symbols for the conveyance of thought, we may say that, as in
a mechanical apparatus, the more simple and the better
arranged its parts, the greater will be the effect produced.
In either case, whatever force is absorbed by the machine
is deducted from the result. A reader or listener has at
each moment but a limited amount of mental power
available. To recognise and interpret the symbols presented to him requires part of this power; to arrange
and combine the images suggested requires a further part ;
and only that part which remains can be used for realizing the thought conveyed. Hence, the more time and
attention it takes to receive and understand each sentence,
the less time and attention can be given _to) he contained
idea, and the less ·vividly will that idea be conceived."
The whole essay is an argument to show that this
principle embraces the main elements of style. Whether
Mr. Spencer is correct throughout in his contention Qr not,
it is certainly true that the student who first grasps this
principle sees the subject of expression in a new light,
and is likely also to think his thoughts more clearly and
to express them in stronger and more clarified diction.
The simple idea that language' is a vehicle to be used with
largest effect and greatest economy can hardly fail to
affect his style beneficially. To the proposition that a
clear conception of the principles of expression will tend
to improve expression, it is no reply to say that Homer
never studied rhetoric, or that Dr. Franklin never went
to college. The study of principles makes models effective. On this point Professor Minto may be quoted.
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'l'BE FUNCTION OF RHETORIC.

" I take it that the main use of rhetorical principles
. is to quicken the beginner's natural judgment in his
study of examples. He is placed in the midst of a host
of writers, good and bad. The most effective writers naturally influence him most. He might learn from them as
much as he wants of the art of composition without any
guidance. He imitates what he admires, irrespective of
all guidance. .All of us acquire in this way the greater
part of what skill we have. But while every great writer
has his own inimitable charm, all effective writing is so in
virtue of its compliance with certain general conditions·
These general conditions the student may learn insensibly,
but the most rudimentary of them admit of being stated,
and the statement may stimulate and guide the student's
own powers of observation and execution." *
For example, if sophomores in · and out of college
should lay hold of the rule that Minto thus states-" One
object of language, perhaps we should not say the object
of language, is the conveyance of ideas or feelings from
one mind to n,nother "-how much ambitious writing
would be amended! Or if the whole array of writers who
contribute to the current volume of printed matter should
closely study Minto's amplification of this rule, how much
vagueness, obscurity, and verbosity, with consequent loss
of time and mental energy, would be saved!
"It is sometimes said that the object of language
is to express thought. This is a misleading description
for the student of composition. We want not merely
to express, but to impress or communicate, which is not
quite the same thing. In using language we bav~ to
consider not merely the putting of our thoughts mto
words,-the utterance or expression of what is in our

minds; we have to consider also how to get our thoughts
into the minds of others. Utterance might be comparatively easy, but the utterance must be such as to find an
entrance elsewhere. We have not merely to pour the
water out of the bottle. If this were all, we might trickle
gently or gurgle and splutter convulsively as we pleased,
with much the same result. We have to pour out in such
a way that every drop may, if possible, be got into another
bottle."*
To the arguments that have been presented in favour
of the study of rhetoric, it may be replied that they assume greater persistence in the study and in the effort to
improve one's composition than can be safely taken for
granted. The good work that is begun in the high school,
it may be said, is soon laid aside; and no matter bow hard
the teac-her may have struggled to lift him to a high level
of expression, the pupil soon .falls back to the wonted
· level of his mind. The same may be said of many students who receive the severer discipline of the college. It
is impossible to deny force to such a 'reply. The ease
with which persons who have been trained in schools fall
into slovenly habits of expression, and particularly of
writing, on leaving school, is extremely discouraging, and
would be surprising if we did not see so much of it. Still,
it is not true that, even in the cases of the majority, the
effect of rhetorical training is wholly lost; while in the
cases of a minority it undeniably contributes materially to
the formation of good style.
.Accordingly, I believe in putting rhetoric in the bighschool course, say about fifty lessons. It should come in
the second half of the course, and, if possible, at the beginning of the last year. Put in this place, relative ma-

*Plain Principles of Prose Composition, p. 10.

,. Plain Principles of Prose Composition, p. 12.

182

183

184

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

turity of mind is secured, while there is also opportunity
for a full year's practice in the light of rhetorical principles. It should be elementary in character. It should
deal with the broad er elements of the subject, shunning
intricacies and niceties. It should be theoretical, but
should be fully illustrated by examples, and be constantly
re-enforced by practice in composition. It should sum ·
np or codify the work already done in composition in
respect to prin ciples.* The examples that are used, as
under the head of purity of style or of figures, should
be chosen with particular care. Reference should be
had, in choosing them, to the pupil's habits and s1uroundings, keeping an eye on the practical end. The
examples should be palpable violations of sound princi~
ples, and should not be multiplied to weariness. Many of
the text-books now in use are overloaded with "examples"
and " exercises" to be corrected, some of which, moreover,
are faulty only in the eye of a perverse critical ingenuity.
Above all, rhetoric should be taught by a competent
teacher. If definitions are merely memorized, and rules
handled in a merely mechanical way, little benefit will result; but if the teacher meets the conditions that have
been laid down, the study will be followed by good results
along several lin es. Students will obtain a broader outlook o.f the snbj ect of expression. Many will form the
habit of studying literature and style more closely. Some
will get into the way of analyzing their own thoughts and
their own style more thoroughly. Those who go to college will receive needed preparation for college work in
the same subj ect ; and those who do not, as a class, will
be the better educated for their pains.

* See Report of the Conference on English to the Committee
of Ten, p. 91.

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE FUNCTION OF C'RITICISJII.

IN preceding chapters various observations have been
made concerning the function and method of criticism in
teaching the language-arts. It is deemed necessary, however, to give the subject the advantage of a formal
chapter.
Criticism as here used is not another name for the
science of msthetics, which is the sense that Lord Karnes
puts upon the word in his well-known work,* but is the
name of an art. Of practical pedagogical questions, few
are harder to answer than the one that the term used in
this connection suggests. The headin~ does not imply
that what is true of any one of the language-arts is true
of all of them, bnt only that so much is true of all of them
that they may be advantageously brought under one general view. First, we must grasp the facts out of which
the difficulty referred to arises.
1. All good expression with voice or pen is free and
spontaneous. The good talker, the good reader, the good
writer is untrammelled. This state of freedom relates as
well to the language in which the thought is clothed as to
the thought itself. Just as far as any cause interrupts
this freedom, it interferes with one of the essel;ltial conditions of good thinking and of good expression. Every

* Elements of Criticism.
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TEACHING THE L.ANGUAGE-A.RTS.

disturbing influence involves the loss to the work imme- ·
diately in hand of whatever mental power it itself absorbs.
This, as Mr. Spencer has explained in the passage quoted
in the last chapter, is why language as a conscious art
gets in the way of both expressing and receiving thought.
Manifestly, language is like any other vehicle-whatever .
power is required to keep the wheels turning is subtracted
from the efficiency of the machine. It is therefore a plain
case of reducing friction to a minimum.
What has now been said is in full consonance with the
sound theory of acquiring the language-arts. The word
"expression" may imply a forcing or squeezing out of
what is expressed, as in a winepress; but in speech or
composition it is not so. A good speech or composition
is never really made; it is not the product of a force that
works from without; it does not come from the external
application of methods and mies ; it is r_a ther the product
of a force that works from within, or, better still, it is a
growth from some root of knowl edge or feeling in the
mind itself. Without this inward creative force, which is
far superior to conscious rules, no really good work can be
done. Criticism has its place ; but we never think of
Shakespeare as building up his plays by foot-rule and
plumb-bob. On this point nothing can be better than
the following sentences from Professor W. 0. Wilkinson:
"Stimulus, more than criticism, is what the forming literary mind requires. Vigorous growth can better be
trusted than the most laborious pruning knife, to give
symmetry of form. Besides, only vigorous growth responds to the pruning knife with desirable results."*
Still another writer has said:
" When Mozart was asked how he set to work to com-

* Quoted by Genung: The Study of Rhetoric.

THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM.

187

pose a symphony he replied, ' If you once tliink how you
are to do it, you will never write anything worth hearing;
I write because I can not help it.' Jean Paul remarks of
the poet's work: 'The character must appear living before
you, and you must hear it, not merely see it; it must, as
takes place in dreams, dictate to you, not you to it. A
poet who must reflect whether, in a given case, he will
make his character say Yes, or No, to the devil with him ! '
An author may be as much astonished at the brilliancy
of his unwilled inspirations as his most partial reader.
'That's splendid ! ' exclaimed Thackeray, as he struck the
table in admiring surprise at the utterance of one of his
characters in the story he was writing."*
2. When children come to school, they have in most
cases already contracted faults of expression- faults of
articulation, pronunciation, grammar, and style. Few
indeed are the children who are free from all these blemishes. Imitation is not a sel~ctive art, but it catches with
great impartiality whatever comes within the sweep of its
net. Furthermore, the child i§l reasonably certain to contract new faults if allowed to. go on his own way. No
amount of care on the part of parent or teacher can
keep him wholly from bad models. Plainly, it would not
answer to allow him to go on his way alone, even it--that
were possible. But it is not possible; the pupil must have
positive direction, and it is not improbable that this will
sometimes be wrong, and that his teachers will set him
some bad examples. In these circumstances originates
the necessity of criticism-what Professor Whitney calls
" constant use and practice under never-failing watch and
correction."
!'Dr. E. L. Youmans: The Culture Demancled by Modern Life,
pp. 382, 383.

188

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TEACHI NG THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM.

3. But the moment that any person who is engaged in
expression begi ns to feel the "watch and correction" his
mind is thrown into a self-conscious and abnormal state.
H e ceases to be wholly creative and becomes partly critical.
His mind is divided, or" distracted." Moreover, rules at
once become disturbing elements. For a talker, reader,
or writer to give conscious attention to his errors, or consciously to apply the rules of reading, grammar, spelling,
or rhetoric, is to sacrifice to an equal degree his immediate
end. One of two things will happen : he will gain in correctness and lose in force, or he will lose in both correct·
ness and force.
Such is the problem that the teacher of English has '
to confront. What is to be done?
One thing is clear. Because correction interferes
with freedom we can not therefore set it aside, or unduly
restrict its province. We can not consent to errors and
vulgarisms because they are "spontaneous." We must
discover some way of harmonizing the two factors, freedom and criticism. The question is one that confronts
the teacher of any art. It is the imposition of restraint
upon creative force- the adjustment of principles and
rules to practice. It involves the practical relation of
knowing and doing. It is an end that must be reached, as
Radestock says, "by the aid of one of Education's trusty
servants-the form ation of habit, which changes functions, of whatever kind, originally performed but slowly
and with effort, into rapid and skilful actions, performed
with dexterity and ease ; it makes study easier, and
finally build s th e bridge uniting theory with practice by
changing dead knowledge into a living power."* How
shall we build this brid ge? At this point the language-

arts offer greater difficulties than some others. A majority of people are peculiarly sensitive to criticism of
their language, perhaps because language is a high test of
cultivation. Fortun<J,tely, however, young children are less
sensitive than older children or adults; indeed, if children
are properly handled from the beginning, much of this
timidity and shrinking may be avoided.
But to return to our question, What is to be done?
How shall we build the bridge uniting theory and practice ? While the following practical suggestions may not
include the whole ground, they will nevertheless cover a
consid erable portion of it :1. In early years correction mu st rest directly upon
authority; the parent or teacher must be the standard of
correctness and taste. What is wanted is practice, and
rules and reasons would be out of place. In respect to
pronunciation, the pupil does not resort to the dictionary,
or, if he does, he can not apply the key of sounds. The
long, the short, and the obscure sounds of a, for example,
can mean nothing to him until he has learned them by
practice.
2. Correction to be effective must be repeated over
and over again. It is the constant dropping that WeaJ'S
away the stone. Many are the strokes required t o build
the bridge. Hence, when the faults of children are numerous, they should not be attacked all at once, but in
successive order.
3. The faults under correction at any time, both in
respect to kind and number, should be chosen with reference.. to the child's age and mental progress. Faults of
pronunciation and of grammar should be taken in hand
as soon as the child begins to commit them; but fau lts of
rhetoric, as of construction, and particularly of a refined
character, should be left until a later time. For the

* Habit.

p. 4.

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TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

teacher to attack errors before the pupil is ripe for the
attack, is most wearisome and disheartening alike to
pupil and teacher. If needed stimulus is furnished,
and good models are kept constantly in view, the pupil
will in time grow off not a few excrescences that the
teacher will, at an earlier date, fail to cut away with his
pruning knife. H ere as elsewhere no little labour is lost
because it is done out of due time.
4. 'rhe teacher must not expect too much either at
the end of the course or at any stage in its progress.
This is indeed but a phase of the point last made, but it
deserves special emphasis. College students going as
teachers into high schools are not unlikely to be exacting:
It must be remembered that some persons will never become good writers. To write well calls for creative power
and literary taste, while many persons have been denied
these gifts. Only a minority of the children in school
will ever become masters of anything deserving to be
called a literary style ; and we must be content to see the
majority reach, as the result of drill and practice, a formal
correctness and propriety. Much the same is true of
reading. The ready intuition, th e rapid grasp of ideas,
the light of imagination, the quick feeling, the flexible
and well-modulated voice, which are essential to good
reading, are gifts of a high order and are somewhat rare.
No doubt practice can do mu ~h to develop these qualities,
but it can not create them.
5. As the pupil mounts to the upper grades, he should
be gradua.lly introduced to rules and reasons. The personal authority of the teacher must slowly retire into the
background. In other words, the art of criticism, which
at first should not extend beyond " This is right" and
" That is wrong,'' must be slowly turned toward the
science of criticism. In this respect the language-arts are

THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM.

191

not all alike. Pronunciation and grammar rest on usage
or convention; so do the meanings of words; and so also
do some features of rhetoric, as capitalization and punctuation, but the rules relating to clearness, energy, emphasis,
and harmony of style are direct outgrowths of psychological facts. The laws of effective speech or writing are
laws of the human mind; and it is . idle to present them
until they can be understood.
6. It is all-important that the teacher should correct
the pupil's exercises, both oral and written, in a good
spirit~ Due pains must be taken not to put the pupil to
shame, lest otherwise reactionary tendencies set in at once.*
It must never be forgotten that while criticism looks to
purely intellectual ends, these ends lie proximat~.-!o t~e
pupil's sensibility. The channels of the young mmu ':111
not fl.ow with clear and bright ideas if they are runmng
turbid or violent with feelings that the teacher has excited
by unnecessary or unkind criticism. In no other school
exercise is it so necessary that the pupil shall be self-possessed as in composition, oral or written. No wheels are
sooner blocked than the wheels of expression. · As the
pupil grows in years and in self-maste.ry, he c~n be,. an~
he should be, treated with more seventy, particularly if

* " Originality is a shy :flower. and will unfold only in a congenial atmosphere. One may as well grasp a sea-anemone and expect
it to show its beauty, as ask a child to write from his own experience when he expects every sentence to be dislocated in order to
be improved. The sentences need improvement, no doubt, but that
improvement will come under the influence of good models and
quiet suggestions. The teacher of composition should never forget
that 'the life is more than meat anu the body than raiment'; that
the spirit and thought of any exercise are more than the technical
dress, and that if the former are developed, the latter will not be
wanting."-(Miss H. L. Keeler: Preface to Studies in English Composition.)

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192

TEAC HING TBE LANG UAGE-ARTS.

careless; bu t the wind must be tempered to the shorn
lamb. Still, as said before, much depends upon the regimen under which the child has been brought up. If he
has been trained to express his ideas in writing from the
beginning of his school life, and has been accustomed to
well-tempereu correction, the normal ohild will show little
of that hesitation and fear which are so characteristic of
youth who are required to prepare essays without having
received the needed preparation, and he will consider the
correction of his language exercises as much a matter of
course as the correction of his arithmetic or grammar exercises. Besid es, there should be commendation as well as
blame. In the sage words of Quintilian: "In amending
what requires correction, let him [ the teacher] not be
harsh, and least of all not reproachful ; for that very
circumstance, that some tutors blame as if they hated,
deters many young men from their proposed course of
stuciy." *
7. To make possiLle that freedo m which is so essential
to the best work, mauy of the pupil's exercises, after he has
made a fair start at least, should pass without any review
or criticism other than his own. Criticism may be overdone. "It is a capital mistake," says Professor Wilkinson,
"for boards of college oversight to suppose that they have
done the best fo r t he literary education of young men
when they have provided them with an instru ctor who is
willing to go through uc.limited drudgery in the way of
minute rudi mentary criticism of th eir essays with the
pencil or the pen." It must be remembered particularly
that a degree of exuberance is natural to pupils who have
reached a certain stage of advancement. In discussing
this subject, too, Quintilian shows his usual good sense.

* Institutes of Oratory, ii 2, 7.

THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM.

193

"The remedy for exuberance is easy," he says; "barrenness is incurable by any labour."
.. .
8. The pupil must be taught to play the critic himself
-that is to observe and corre.c t mistakes of speech and
composition. Such a habit natura~ly begin~ :v~th the errors of others but its proper end is self-cnhcism. The
teacher can ; ender, the better pupils particularly, no
greater service than to start them well on this r~~d:
It must be remembered that the end of criticism, as
we deal with it, is wholly practical. . It aims .to corre~t .
faults and to develop excellences, and if it fails here. it
fails wholly. N 0 doubt the science of criticisU: has disciplinary value, but this value is no reason wh~ it should
be brought into the elementary school or the high school.
But criticism to be practical must be remembered , and be
applied in the preparation of new exercises. Obviou~ly,
for<Yotten criticism is useless. Furthermore, the applicatio~ of critical tests or rules involves some impairment of
unconscious freedom, some growth of linguistic self-consciousness. But there is no h elping it. Some disturbance
from this source is inevitable.. Two points, ho.wever,
should be well guarded. One is to reduce the disturbance to a minimum in the first place, and the second to '
~liminate it as rapidly as possible. Comparative immunity from this disturbance is enj o~e~ by those perso~ s
who become so familiar with the cnhc that he loses his
t errors in their eyes.
.
If errors are duly corrected; if at the proper t~n10 rules
are steadily borne in upon the ~ind ; if th~ habit of selfcriticism is created; if the pupil consorts with good m~d­
els-the bridge uniting theory and practice will be bmlt,
slowly indeed but well. Step by step corrections and r~les
will fall out of the conscious mind, because they are berng
transformed into h abit, and self-criticism will become

. -~·

:. .;

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

'l'HE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM.

mainly a matter of revision, after the first glow of speech
or composition is over. The pupil who perversely puts
his apostrophe on the wrong side of his s, and uses the
objective form of the pronoun in room of the nominative form, will come to speak or write as be should
do without once thinking of his form er errors. He
will develop a second nature that is stronger than first
nature.
Because speaking and writing under restraint are bard
and painful, we should not resort to license ; the difficulty
and pain will vanish as restraint passes into habit. Those
persons, if any, who never need to create a second linguistic
nature may be congratulated on their happy escape. But
in the majority of cases the teacher must bend every effort
to the end of transmuting knowledge into power. In so far
as the art of composition is self-conscious, it is not unlike the art of penmanship. Here the aim is to produce
\Vith ease and sk ill certain conventional characters. The
movements and strokes are at first awkward and painful;
but as they become correct and automatic they also become easy and pleasant. Theory passes into practice. This
transition is the most important one ever made in education, and particularly in morals : the transition from
knowledge to power.
Something should be said of the " Natu re" rules that
are laid down in every book that deals with the languagearts. No exhortations are more common than these:
"Speak according to Nature,"" Read naturally,"" Follow
Nature in writing." These precepts, however, are but
special applications of a general law that is thus form ulated : " We must proceed in accordance with Na tu re."
But what is the Nature that we are so earnestly command ed to follow?
Perhaps Aristotle was the first writer whose books

have come down to us that undertook to define the term.*
From the day that he gave bis definitions, the part that
Nature plays in education bas been more or less recognised, and especially since Rousseau wrote bis epoch-making book. Much that has been written upon the subject,
not to say most, has been extremely vague and misleading. A discriminating writer· bas said that "probably
nine tenths of the popular sophistries on the subject of
education would be cleared away by clarifying the word
'Nature.'" t
Now the precept to "follow Nature" can not mean
that education in talking, reading, and writing shall be
without direction of any kind. Such a canon would exclude reading and writing altogether, and also speaking
according to a cultivated standard, because these are all
arts. This can not therefore be what is meant by speaking, reading, and writing" naturally." Nor, secondly, can
the precept mean that the child shall be taught the language-arts, but shall be left without guidance or direction. That would be absurd, since there is no telling
what pranks" Nature," left to herself would play, and
since, strictly speaking, the requirement would involve a
contradiction. Hence we are again thrown back upon
the question, What is the N atnre that is set up as· a criterion to be followed ?
Professor Davidson, in his admirable chapter on Nature and Education, tells us that, applied to living things,
the term "Nature" is used in two distinct senses, which
"are often confounded," to the great detriment of educational theory and practice. "In one sense it is the character or type with which a thing starts on a separate career,

194

* The Metaphysics, Book IV, chap. iv.
t 8. R. Sill: The Atlantic Monthly, February, 1883, p. 178.

195

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TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM.

and which, without any effort on the part of that thing,
but solely with the aid of natural forces, determines that
career." Th e acorn, the bean, the chick, the whelp, and
the cub are given as examples. "In the other sense, ' Nature' means that highest possible reality which a · living
thing, through a series of voluntary acts originating within
or without it, may be made to attain."* These he calls
the "original" and the "ideal" senses of the word. Obviously, it is in the second of the two senses that the term
is used, or should be used, in dealing with rational education.
The latest translator of the Emile, subjecting the
"Nature" of that book to analysis, finds that it contains
the three elements of simplicity, reality, and personal experience. "Simplify your methods as much as possible;
distrust the artificial aids that complicate the process of
teaching; bring your pupil face to face with reality; connect symbol with substance; make learning, so far as possible, a process of personal discovery; depend as little as
possible ou mere authority. 'l'his is my interpretation of
Rousseau's precept,' Follow Nature.' " t Nothing more
definite than this, I conceive, can be extracted from the
Nature doctrine in ed ucation. While this is much-very
much-it still leaves the teacher who is seeking for practical guidance at a loss as to details. About all, therefore,
that the "Na tu re " rules in the language-arts can mean is
this: The teacher and the pupil alike should study closely
the composition to be read, and the subject to be handled
in speech or essay; they should attend to the character of
the thought and feeling, respect the proprieties of time
and place, and inquire what is" natural," all of which is

but another name for the exercise of good sense. The
teacher should regard the general facts of the mind and
the individuality of the pupil; she should, as Matthew
Arnold might have said, "let her intelligence play freely
upon the facts involved in each case." The "Nature"
rules assume that there is some common standard of excellence, some general ideas or usages in..relation to what
is good and what is bad; and this assumption we may
safely accept. To accept it, however, does not imply that
this standard is to be ascertained by consulting each individual man, or by throwing the question open to a popular vote; it is, rather, the opinion and the usage of those
most competent to extract from the facts their deepest
meaning.
Upon the whole, it must, therefore, be said that .the
" Nature " rules are rather vague and indefinite for practical guidance in the schoolroom · that they are however
the only final and authoritative 'rules that can 'be aiven ·'
0
'
and that the teacher must, at least within limits, extract
them from the composition, the subject, the child, and
the occasion, as they present themselves. Such a quest,
if successful, can not be separated from good models.
The teacher who makes it will soon discover that uniformity must be shunned and diversity be cultivated. The
motto " The style is the man " expresses a profound truth
which lies at the basis of the "Nature" rules. This is
the reason why, to refer to a well-known passage in Mr.
Spencer's Essay, Johnson is pompous and Goldsmith simple, one author abrupt, another rhythmical, and a third
concise. This is the reason why the perfect writer writes
like Junius when in the Junius frame of mind, like Lamb
wh en he feels as Lamb felt, and like Carlyle when in the
Oarlylean mood.

196

* Education

of the Greek People, chap. i.

t Dr. W. II. l?a.yne: Introduction.

197

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(

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198

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TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

In the preceding pages I have emphasized the key
words to the language-arts, viz., imitation and practice,
models and correction. The teacher's practical problem
is to correlate the two main ideas that these words express.
While the boy who hears good English spoken and read,
and reads good books, will far distance the boy who does
not hear such English and read such books, it must not
be supposed that he will proceed on this pleasant path
until he wakes up some fine morning to find himself a
good speaker or a good writer. Nor must it be supposed,
on the other hand, that the boy of practice and correction
will attain that end if models and imitations are wanting.
Both elements are called for; but models and imitation
come first, and they are of the greater value.

CHAPTER XIX.
TEACHERS OF THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

IT is stated in _the first chapter of this work that to
teach English successfully requires a combination of cultivation, task, judgment, and practical skill not found in
the common teacher. The unsatisfactory character of
English instruction in the schools is also ascribed, in part,
to the incompetency of teachers. Still further, casual references to the teacher question are found scattered through
the book. A dealing with the topic still more direct and
definite is, however, called for, and I may fitly bring my
-~task to a close with a brief chapter on the qualifications
of teachers of the language-arts.
The remarks made hitherto have had principal reference to teachers in the more advanced stages of the work.
In the case of primary teachers, at least those found in
the first grades, qualifications to teach these arts are the
principal things to be looked at, pedagogically speaking,
in selecting them. So very important at this stage of
progress is instruction in oral speech, in language lessons,
and in the art of reading! The qualifications required
are clear perception of the elements of the arts, their relations to real knowledge, and skill in bringing these elements into connection with young minds. In the more
advanced grades, and in the high school, the range of instruction that the teacher is called upon to furnish is
much wider than in the lower grades, and the language199

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200

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

arts are relatively much less important; still, owing to
the wider and higher character of the work to be done in
these arts, far higher attainments in the teacher are necessary. The idea has seized the minds of some school superintendents and board members, that almost anybody" will
do 11 to teach English to children. The fact is just the
contrary. The teaching of literature in particular can
not be subjected to the processes that are so successful
in science, mathematics, and the classics and modern languages. In no other high-school chair, perhaps, can an
incompetent teacher, and particularly one possessed by
notions and hobbies, do so much harm as in the chair of
English literature.
Some remarks have already been made on special
teachers of English in connection with the subject of concentration. Returning to that question, I avow the opinion
that in the early grades such a teacher would be most undesirable, and that the departmental method of teaching
in elementary schools is based on false principles. 'l'he
child's mind is one, and, for the most part, his lessons
should be taught by one teacher. To cut up his mind
into fragments and piece them out to a group of teachers
who are likely to know little of what they are severally
doing, who are certain not to know fully, and who become
competitors for the child's time and mental energy, is
most mischievous. In high schools, and especially in the
first year, specialization is sometimes carried to a harmful
extent. Still, the time will . come when a special teacher
of English should be employed. On this point the recommendation of the Conference on English made to the
Committee of T en may be quoted with approval, the only
doubtful point being whether the time set for the advent
of the special teacher is not too early.
"In the opinion of the Conference, it is expedient that

TEACHERS OF THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

201

the English work during the last two years of the grammar-school course (including formal grammar, reading,
and composition) should be in the hands of a special
teacher or teachers . . But the appointment of such teacher
or teachers should not be held to exclude the instructors
in other subjects from the oversight of the English of
their pupils. It is only by cordial co-operation in all departments that satisfactory results in this direction can be
obtained. To the lack of such joint effort the present
unsatisfactory condition of English study in the high
schools and colleges may be in great part ascribed."*
What is here said about co-operation among all the
teachers of the school, in order to secure intensive work,
and about the special teacher as well, can not be too
strongly insisted upon.
,,.-~
But there is a more important question than this one.
It is far more important to have special exercises in English than it is to have a special teacher. The doctrine of
concentration has limits that can not be passed. Lessons
in geography or arithmetic, and still more lessons in history, may be made lessons in English, in reading, even in
composition, with good results; but such lessons can not
be made to answer the purpose of prescribed lessons in
those subjects. No school exercise is useful in an eminent degree in more than one direction at the same time.
Probably the geographical readers, the historical readers,
the physiological readers, etc., that have appeared within
the last few years answer a certain purpose, but it is easy
to overestimate their value. Physiology, geography, and
history can not be taught successfully by means of general
reading exercises, nor can reading as an art be taught
properly by means of such books. There must be specific

* Report of the Committee of Ten, p. 90.

I

'I

202

TEACRl~G

TI:IE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

books and exercises for each of these purposes. Two
studies, and much less a larger number, oan not be
merged into one study. Hence the readers just referred
to can, at best, be nothing more in their several subjects
than supplemental reading books. Still more, even if
there were no psychological objection to turning the English over to the teachers of the school collectively, to one
as much as to another, it 'would be impossible to find
teachers in sufficient numbers competent to do the work.
Again, if the English be distributed, assigning reading
to one teacher, composition to another, and literature to
a third, all three should be carefully selected. But the
teacher of literature should be chosen with peculiar care.
To aptness to teach and sufficient breadth of reading
should be added literary taste and appreciation, insight or
penetration, soundness of judgment, correct ideals, and a
good reading voice. Like other studies, literature can be
und erstood only through the apperceiving process; moreover, since literature is a transcript of mental life-an expression of thought and feeling-the facts, ideas, and
images that are essential to its interpretation, on the part
of both pupil and teacher, must come from the same
source. This is reason enough why the teacher should be
a p erson who h as had some experience of life and has accumulated some store of thought. In 11 word, no person
can succeed in t eaching this subject who has not some real
cultivation. Here, if anywhere, the old Jewish maxim
must hold: "Ile who learns of a young master is like a
man who eats sour grapes, and drinks wine fresh from the
press; but he who has a master of mature years is like a
man who eats ripe and delicious grapes, and drinks old
wine."

BIBLIOGRAPHY.

THE bibliography of the subjects treated in this work
is already very extensive, and is rapidly increasing. The
text-wi·iters on pedagogy, at least on the practical side, all \
deal with teaching reading, language lessons, composition, '
and grammar ; and some of them with teaching rhetoric
and English literature. As a group, no subjects are more
frequently dealt with in the proceedings of teachers' associations, or are more frequently handled by writers in the
educational press. Numerous articles on these subjects also
find their way into the magazines. The titles of the works
that have been freely consulted in the preparation of this
book are given in footnotes. The principal of these titles
and a few others are given below, with accompanying
remarks:
COLLINS, JOHN CHURTON: The Study of English Literature.
A plea for its recognition and organization at the universities. Macmillan & Co., London and New York,
pp. 160. While this book relates to college or university
study, it may be read with much advantage by educated
teachers in the secondary schools.
CORSON, Professor HIR.A.M,.; Vocal Culture in its Relation to
Literary Culture (The Atlantic Monthly, June, 1895, p.
810). The Aims of Literary Study. Macmillan & Co.,
New York, pp. 153. Both admirable.
DOWDEN, Professor EDW.A.RD: The Teaching of English
Literature (New Studies in Literature, p. 419). London:
Kegan Paul. Trench, Triibner & Co.
203

204

1

TEACHING THE LANGUAGE-ARTS.

IllBLIOGRAPIIY.

FLETCHER, J. B., and CARPENTER, E. R. : Introduction to
Theme Writing. Allyn & Bacon, pp. 133. For college
work, but may be used with profit by educated teachers
in secondary schools.
GENUNG, Professor J OHN F.: The Study of Rhetoric. D. 0 .
H eath & Co., Boston, pp. 32.
HALL, Dr. G. STANLEY: How to Teach Reading. D. C. H eath
& Co., Boston, pp. 40. Contains good hints for teachers.
HARRIS, Dr. W. T. : On the Correlation of Studies in Elementary Education. Part Third of the Report of the
Committee of Fifteen, pp. 230. Contains excellent discussion of the educational values of the language-arts.
H UDSON, Rev. H. N.: Preface to Hamlet, English in Schools
(The Merchant of Venice), and How to use Shakespeare
in Schools (As You Like It). These references are to the
author's Shakespeare for Use in Schools and F amilies.
HUFFCUT, E. W. : English in the Preparatory Schools. D.
C. H eath & Co., Boston, pp. 25. A useful monograph.
L AURIE, Professor, S. S.: Lectures on Language and Linguistic Method in the School. Second edition revised.
Edinburgh, James Thin; London, Simpkin & Marshall,
pp. 197. The best book on the subject known to me.
LOWELL, JAMES RUSSELL: Books and Libraries (Literary
and Political Addresses). One of the author's best essays.
INTO, Professor WILLIAllI: Plain Principles of Prose Composition. William Blackwood & Sons, Edinburgh and
London, pp. 85. Thoroughly sensible and practical.
MORLEY, JOHN : On the Study of Literature. A universityextension address delivered at the Mansion House,
London, 1887. Macmillan & Co., London, pp. 53. Republished in Aspects of Modern Study, London, Macmillan & Co.
NEWCOMER, A. G. : A Practical Course in English Composition. Ginn & Co., Boston, pp. 250. This book is just
what its title calls it.
PHILLIPS, J . H . : History and Literature in Grammar Grades,
D. C. Heath & Co., Boston, pp. 15.
·

5''m

•

205

SCOTT, Professor F. N., and DENNEY, Prof~ssor J. V.: Paragraph Writing. Allyn & Bacon, Boston, pp. 259. A
useful treatise; it makes the paragraph the unit of composition.
SCUDDER, H. E.: Literature in the Public Schools (The Atlantic Monthly, August, 1888, p. 223).
SPENCER, HERBERT: Philosophy of Style. The edition
edited, with introduction and notes, by F. N. Scott, and
published by Allyn & Bacon, Boston, is recommended.
This celebrated essay, while not to be implicitly accepted,
may be studied to great advantage by teachers.
WHITNEY, Professor W. D. : Essentials of English Gr:;i,mmar for the Use of Schools. Ginn & Co., Boston, pp.
260. Admirable for teachers.
WOODWARD, F. C.: English in the Schools. D. C. Heath &
Co., Boston, pp. 25. Good discussion of the educational
value of the vernacular.
WRIGHT, T. H.: Style. Contained in Scott's edition of
Spencer. See above.

'
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