CHAPTER IV EDUCATION At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. As You Like It, 11. vii. 143-147 Two views of childhood the best copy of Adam (a) A humourist's A child is a man in a small letter, yet before he tasted of Eve or the apple; and he is happy, whose small practice in the world can only write his character. He is nature's fresh picture newly drawn in oil, which time and much handling dims and defaces. His soul is yet a white paper unscribbled with observations of the world, wherewith at length it becomes a blurred note-book. He is purely happy because he knows no evil, nor hath made means by sin to be acquainted with misery. He arrives not at the mischief of being wise, nor endures evils to come by foreseeing them. He kisses and loves all, and when the smart of the rod is past, smiles on his beater. Nature and his parents alike dandle him, and tice him on with a bait of sugar to a draught of worm-wood. He plays yet, like a young prentice the first day, and is not come to his task of melancholy. All the language he speaks yet is tears, and they serve him well enough to express his necessity. His hardest labour is his tongue, as if he were loth to use so deceitful an organ; and he is best company with it when he can but prattle. We laugh at his foolish sports, but his game is our earnest and his drums, rattles, and hobby-horses but the emblems and mocking of men's business. His father hath writ him as his own little story, wherein he reads those days of his life that he cannot remember; and sighs to see what innocence he has out-lived. The elder he grows, he is a stair lower from God, and like his first father much worse in his breeches. He is the Christian's example, and the old man's relapse. The one imitates his pureness, and the other falls into his simplicity. Could he put off his body with his little coat, he had got eternity without a burden, and exchanged but one heaven for another. JOHN EARLE, Micro-cosmographie 1628 (b) A puritan's Meditations of the misery of infancy What wast thou being an infant but a brute, having the shape of a man? Was not thy body conceived in the heat of lust, the secret of shame, and stain of original sin? And thus wast thou cast naked upon the earth, all imbrued in the blood of filthiness, (filthy indeed when the Son of God, who disdained not to take on him man's nature and the infirmities thereof, yet thought it unbeseeming his Holiness to be conceived after the sinful manner of man's conception): so that thy mother was ashamed to let thee know the manner thereof. What cause then hast thou to boast of thy birth, which was a cursed pain to thy mother, and to thyself the entrance into a troublesome life? The greatness of which miseries, because thou couldest not utter in words, thou diddest express (as well as thou couldest) in weeping tears. Meditations of the miseries of youth What is youth, but an untamed beast? All whose actions are rash, and rude, not capable of good counsel when it is given; and ape-like, delighting in nothing but in toys and baubles? Therefore thou no sooner begannest to have a little strength and discretion, but forthwith thou wast kept under the rod and fear of parents and masters: as if thou hadst been born to live under the discipline of others, rather than at the disposition of thine own will. No tired horse was ever more willing to be rid of his burden, than thou wast to get out of the servile state of this bondage-a state not worth the description. LEWES BAYLY, Practice of Pietie 1612 A Of parents and children The joys of parents are secret, and so are their griefs and fears. They cannot utter the one, nor they will not utter the other. Children sweeten labours, but they make misfortunes more bitter. They increase the cares of life, but they mitigate the remembrance of death. The perpetuity by generation is common to beasts, but memory, merit and noble works are proper to men; and surely a man shall see the noblest works and foundations have proceeded from childless men, which have sought to express the images of their minds, when those of their body have failed. So the care of posterity is most in them that have no posterity. They that are the first raisers of their houses are most indulgent towards their children; beholding them as the continuance, not only of their kind, but of their work; and so both children and creatures. The difference in affection of parents towards their several children is many times unequal, and sometimes unworthy, especially in the mother; as Solomon saith, 'A wise son rejoiceth the father, but an ungracious son shames the mother.' A man shall see, where there is a house full of children, one or two of the eldest respected and the youngest made wantons; but, in the middest, some there are, as it were forgotten, who many times nevertheless prove the best. The illiberality of parents, in allowance towards their children, is an harmful error, makes them base, acquaints them with shifts, makes them sort with mean company, and makes them surfeit more when they come to plenty. And therefore the proof is best, where men keep their authority towards their children, but not their purse. Men have a foolish manner (both parents, and schoolmasters, and servants) in creating and breeding an emulation between brothers during childhood which many times sorteth to discord when they are men, and disturbeth families. The Italians make little difference between children and nephews or near kinsfolks. But, so they be of the lump, they care not though they pass not through their own body. And to say truth, in Nature it is much a like matter. In so much that we see a nephew sometimes resembleth an uncle, or a kinsman, more than his own parent, as the blood happens. Let parents choose betimes the vocations and courses they mean their children should take; for then they are most flexible. And let them not too much apply themselves to the disposition of their children, as thinking they will take best to that, which they have most mind to. It is true that if the affection or aptness of the children be extraordinary, then it is good not to cross it. But generally the precept is good : optimum elige, suave et facile illud faciet consuetudo. Younger brothers are commonly fortunate, but seldom or never where the elder are disinherited. FRANCIS BACON, Essays 1597-1625 § 2. The Grammar school Mrs Quickly. Mistress Ford desires you to come suddenly. Mrs Page. I'll be with her by and by: I'll but bring my young man here to school. Look, where his master comes; 'tis playing-day, How now, Sir Hugh! no school to-day? I see. Evans. No; Master Slender is get the boys leave to play. Mrs Quick. Blessing of his heart! Mrs Page. Sir Hugh, my husband says my son profits nothing in the world at his book: I pray you ask him some questions in his accidence. Evans. Come hither, William; hold up your head; come. Mrs Page. Come on, sirrah; hold up your head; answer your master, be not afraid. Evans. William, how many numbers is in nouns ? Evans. Show me now, William, some declensions of your pronouns. William. Forsooth, I have forgot. Evans. It is qui, quae, quod; if you forget your quis, your quaes, and your quods, you must be preeches. Go your ways and play; go. Mrs Page. He is a better scholar than I thought he was. Evans. He is a good sprag memory. Farewell, Mistress Page. The Merry Wives of Windsor, iv. i. An interesting parallel [Shakespeare was an exact contemporary of Willis. Like him, he is supposed to have received no education save that provided by a free grammar school. Like him, too, he found it quite sufficient for his needs in later life.] It was not my happiness to be bred up at the university, but all the learning I had was in the free grammar school, called Christ's school in the city of Gloucester; yet even there it pleased God to give me an extraordinary help by a new school master brought thither, one Master Gregory Downhale of Pembroke Hall in Cambridge, after I had lost some time under his predecessor. This Master Downhale having very convenient lodgings over the school, took such liking to me, as he made me his bedfellow (my father's house being next of all to the school). This bedfellowship begat in him familiarity and gentleness towards me; and in me towards him reverence and love; which made me also love my book, love being the most prevalent affection in nature to further our studies and endeavours in any profession. He came thither but bachelor of arts, a good scholar, and who wrote both the secretary and the Italian hands exquisitely well. But after a few years that he had proceeded master of arts, finding the school's entertainment not worthy of him, he left it, and betook himself to another course of being secretary to some nobleman, and at last became secretary to the worthy Lord Chancellor Ellesmere, and in that service (as I think) died. And myself, his scholar, following his steps, as near as I could, (though furnished with no more learning than he taught me in that grammar school) came at last to be secretary to the Lord Brooke, Chancellor of the Exchequer; and after that to my much honoured Lord, the Earl of Middlesex, Lord high Treasurer of England; and lastly to the most worthy, my most noble Lord, the Lord Coventry, Lord-keeper of the great seal, in whose service I expect to end my days. And this I note, that though I were no graduate of the university, yet (by God's blessing) I had so much learning as fitted me for the places whereunto the Lord advanced me, and (which I think to be very rare) had one that was after a Lord Chancellor's secretary to be my schoolmaster, whom (by God's blessing) I followed so close, that I became a successor to his successors in the like place of eminent service and employment. R. WILLIS (b. 1564), Mount Tabor 1639 The School Day Philoponus. The school-time should begin at six........ Spoudeus. Would you then have the master and usher present so early? Philoponus. The usher should necessarily be there to be present amongst them, though he follow his own private study that hour, yet to see that all the scholars do their duties |