Part 10

But hark! what noise is that! what screaming and shouting! what roar of waters! the sluices at the head of the stream are just opened, and the fresh water is coming down in all its force. Open gush all the pools, to be dammed up again directly, so as to allow the laundresses an opportunity to rinse the clothes they have been attempting to wash. The water, in its descent, is accompanied by shouts from group to group, apprising those below of what is coming—and such an infernal hubbub never before did I hear. Having finished my pencilling of the scene, I took my leave.

_July 8th._ I took a walk this evening a little way out {557} of the town, passing along the sea-side for about two miles, westward. After passing through the suburbs, which are composed of houses remaining from the recent fires, which are of course old and dirty, I came to the burial grounds. That belonging to the Jews is well kept, very neat, and surrounded by a high wall strongly built of stone. Every tomb is handsome, and some are really elegant. But the English and Catholic grounds are very much neglected, the only fence being a hedge of aloes, with a prickly pear interspersed here and there. The tombs are small and mean, many of the graves being marked only by a wooden cross. From this yard you have a fine scope of the whole harbor presented to your view, and an admirable panoramic prospect of the town; while on the other side of the road the hills rise amphitheatrically, covered with perennial green, with a hedge of cocoa trees between the burial grounds and their base.

A mile farther on, you come to a walk of cocoas, the road on each side being hedged with this beautiful tree. On one side of the road runs a small bay of about three miles in circumference, sweeping closely up to the road, its tiny waves fairly breaking on the passing traveller. Seen through the foliage, this sheet of water is most picturesque. I have attempted a sketch of it, which I hope you will recognize among those in the port folio. At the end of this walk stands the most remarkable curiosity in the island,—a silk cotton tree of such gigantic dimensions as literally to astonish all who behold it. The trunk at the base occupies ground of at least fifty feet in circumference. It is not very high, but spreads abroad its enormous limbs until one would imagine that it must fall asunder by its own weight. Each branch would form a stately forest tree, if growing separately. It extends its foliage-covered boughs far over the way in every direction, and on every bend of the limbs you see grasses of various descriptions growing; and on one in particular, I noticed a vigorous stalk of sugar cane flourishing finely. The foliage hangs densely and gracefully from every bough, and is of a deep green teint. I assayed a sketch of this wonderful tree, but fear I have given you, by the conjoined aid of pen and pencil, but a very inadequate idea of its magnificence and rare beauty.

_July 9th._ Started from St. Thomas', with the assurance that our little schooner was awaiting us at Chagres. We all longed to see the wee craft once more, and to be again with her upon the waves; and indeed we regretted her, clipper as she was, with as much fondness as if she were the most stately man-of-war. I close my portfolio for the present; where I shall open it next, Fate knows, not I. But wherever it may be, for your eyes and yours alone, my friend, are these “types of travel” recorded. I do not write for the public eye; I leave that to your friend N. P. W. and to my friend Mrs. Trollope, content, when again we meet, and shake hands once more after my wanderings, to hear you say, in the language of Old Will—Well, Ned, “thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel.”

* * * * *

Wherever the Inquisition had power, the word _fata_ was not allowed in any book. An author wishing to use the word, printed in his book _facta_, and put in the errata “for facta read fata.”

LINES.

BY P. P. COOKE.

I sometime at sweet even go Forth to the greenwood tree, To watch the day-flush fading slow Over the west countrie.

There, sitting on a gnarled root, I place my hand upon my cheek— And sitting thus, whole hours, all mute, Feeding on thought too rich to speak, I hear the ever rushing wings Of the many cloudy things Which are my brain's imaginings. And sometime am quite happy—quite— Under the influence, soft and holy, Of the eve's bough-broken light, (Bough-broken and most melancholy!) Quite happy! and my fingers pass Over my brow and through my hair, In rude—rude mimicry, alas! Of the soft fingers slim and fair That once were so familiar there— But which now death-eaten are.

So I do sit me down and dream— Acquaint with mystery; and seem To prying Ouphes a happy mortal, And seem aright!—For through the portal Of joyful meditation stream All bright and lovely things. But then These come not to the haunts of men, And I, (sad I!) am happy only In the old wood, dim and lonely!

THE LEARNED LANGUAGES.

BY MATHEW CAREY.

So much has been written on the advantages and disadvantages of studying these languages, and such a diversity of opinions prevails on the mode of teaching them, among those who are in favor of the study, that little of novelty can be adduced on this mooted subject; and a writer can scarcely expect to find readers at all disposed to favor his lucubrations with a perusal, or, if they condescend to peruse, they will rarely come to the task with unprejudiced minds. This is very discouraging, and might well forbid any but a bold writer from entering the arena. The importance of the subject induces me, however, to venture. If I fail of producing conviction, I shall only share the same fate as numbers who have preceded me.

One among the discouragements to the discussion, is the unfair means employed by the friends of the prevailing system, to decry their antagonists—whom they represent as ignoramuses, incapable of appreciating the value of the classics, and therefore, like the fox in the fable, depreciating what they have not attained, and cannot attain. It requires some courage to incur the risque, indeed the certainty, of being classed in the category of idiots or fools.

{558} To enable us to judge correctly of any system, it is necessary to be able to form a correct idea of its objects, and the means adopted to attain them. These two points I shall touch as briefly as possible.

The objects of the system of education, pursued in our academies, colleges, and universities, so far as classical learning is concerned, are, 1. To acquire a knowledge of the Latin and Greek languages so as to be able not only to read and understand them correctly, but to write and speak them. 2. To relish their beauties. 3. To be incited by emulation to imitate the noble examples scattered through the histories of Greece and Rome; and, 4. To instil into the minds of youth the sublime principles of morality to be found in their poets.

Having these objects clearly presented to the mind's eye, it remains to investigate the means employed to attain them, and to ascertain whether there is a due proportion between the means and the end, and whether the end, in all its amplifications, is worthy of the means employed for its attainment. To simplify the subject, I shall, for the present, confine myself to the Latin language. The reasoning will apply, with at least equal force, to the Greek. Let it be observed that I chiefly refer to the cases of young men intended for active business, to which they are generally devoted, from the age of fifteen or sixteen. The reasoning is, in a great degree, inapplicable to those destined for the learned professions.

Lads usually commence learning the Latin at seven, eight, or nine years of age. But to afford the friends of the system the fairest chance in the argument, I will date from nine—and suppose them to enter college at fourteen. The chief portion of the valuable period between those ages, is spent in the dry, irksome, and revolting task of learning the grammar; and if translations of the authors studied, be excluded, as is the case in many schools, they are engaged for tedious hours in hunting in dictionaries for the meaning of the words in the books they are studying, and, when they find, as they frequently do, ten or a dozen meanings to one word, in deciding on the most appropriate one for their purpose. It is difficult to conceive of a more irksome or vexatious employment, especially for the lively, jocund, and merry-hearted lads on whom this penance is imposed.

When the term of probation at school is completed, the lads are transferred to a larger scene of action—a college—where they are destined to remain four or five years more, of which term probably a third part is consumed in the study of the two languages in question; thus making on a fair computation, four or five years employed in learning languages of which little use is made in after life.

To facilitate the judgment on this system, I will venture to assume as postulates,

1. That the advantages of the acquirement of a foreign language may be considered under three points of view—the capacity of correctly reading—of writing—or of speaking it.

2. That not one, in one thousand of our citizens, ever has occasion to write or speak Latin.

3. That not above one in a hundred of those who learn Latin in this country, is capable, were it necessary, of correctly writing or conversing in that language.

4. That lads of moderate capacity and no very extraordinary application, frequently acquire the French language in twelve or eighteen months, so as to be able not merely to read it understandingly, but to comprehend it when spoken, and to make themselves tolerably well understood in conversation.

5. That sometimes in addition they acquire the Spanish within that period.

6. That the Latin language is not more difficult than the French—indeed I believe not so difficult. On this point I shall rely on the opinion given, and the fact stated, by Locke, to be offered in the sequel.

7. That the French being attainable in twelve or eighteen months, and the Latin not being more difficult, it follows that it is an error to consume three, four, five, or six years in the attainment of the latter.

8. That in the common intercourse of life, which “comes home to the business and bosoms of men,” the French is more useful than the Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and Arabic.

9. That except to the members of the learned professions, and men of leisure and curiosity, the learned languages, to the mass of mankind, are of no use whatever beyond the ability to understand authors, and quotations from them, in those languages.

10. That, therefore, for lads intended for trades or business, all the time bestowed on learning Latin, beyond the capacity to read and understand it, is literally thrown away.

Some of these assumptions may be questioned, and, perhaps, are questionable, without materially affecting the proposed plan. Be this, however, as it may, I shall fortify myself with such an array of authorities, as, if it do not convince the reader of the soundness of the doctrines here advocated, will shield me from the charge of empiricism for advancing them.

“_How many years of life are spent in learning Latin? How much labor, pain and imprisonment, are endured by the boy? How much anxious drudgery by the master? How much disgust of literature is engendered?_ How many habits are formed of reluctance to regular employment? In short, how much misery has been produced, is being produced, and will continue to be produced, in teaching the Latin language? This appears to us to be a very important question, and will, we think, appear so to our readers, after a little consideration.

“We sometimes figure to ourselves an inhabitant of another world coming among us, and examining with an unprejudiced eye the _value_ of our pursuits. If this idle speculation could be realized, who, we should be glad to know, would be Quixotic enough to undertake a defence of the usual course of instruction in Latin? Nobody, certainly. For, in the first place, not two boys out of three who follow it, ever become able _to read even the easier classic authors with fluency_. Of these, perhaps one half, from the painful associations which they have attached to Latin books, never open one after they leave school. If we add to the account, as Rousseau would, the numbers who die during the schoolboy age, we shall find the list of those who use the knowledge, gained with so much pain to master and scholar, dwindle into a very small one.”—_Essay on Public Education, p. 12. London, 1822._

“I object to the practice of sending, almost indiscriminately, every male child, whose parents are above the laboring class of the people, to undergo the painful {559} drudgery of committing to memory the rules of a Latin Grammar, and _to sacrifice four of the years of his existence to a pursuit which is ultimately to be of no service to him_.”—_Russel's View of the Scotch System of Education, p. 85._

“Does it savor of our characteristic sagacity to send almost every boy of a certain age, to a grammar school, to learn the elements of Latin, and afterwards to enter him to business, with no other qualifications for it than those which he may have derived from a partial and ill-directed attention to writing and accounts?”—_Idem, p. 79._

“Many children are whipped into Latin, and made to spend many of their precious hours uneasily on it, who, after they are once gone from school, are never to have more to do with it as long as they live. Can there be any thing more ridiculous, than that a father should waste his own money, and his son's time, in setting him to learn the Roman language, when at the same time he designs him for a trade, wherein he, having no use of Latin, fails not to forget that little which he brought from school, and which it is ten to one he abhors, from the ill usage it procured him? Could it be believed, unless we had every where amongst us examples of it, that a child should be forced to learn the rudiments of a language, which he is never to use in the course of life that he is designed for, and neglect all the while,” &c.—_Locke on Education, p. 289._

“The themes are written in Latin, a language foreign to their country, and long since dead every where—a language which your son, 'tis a thousand to one, shall never have occasion to make a speech in, as long as he lives, after he comes to be a man—a language, wherein the manner of expressing one's self is so far different from ours, that to be perfect in that would very little improve the purity and facility of his English style.”—_Idem, p. 308._

“A young Englishman goes to school at six or seven years old; and remains in a course of education till twenty-three or twenty-four years of age. _In all this time his sole and exclusive occupation is learning Latin and Greek;_ he has scarcely a notion that there is any other kind of excellence, unless he goes to the University of Cambridge, and then _classical studies occupy him about ten years_, and divide him with mathematics for four or five more.”—_Edinburgh Review, Vol. XV. p. 45._

In a letter prefixed to the Port Royal Latin Grammar, is the following complaint. “The grammar which is in use in all our schools, has been, it is true, compiled by a learned man—but is so prolix, that _boys can scarcely learn it in four years_.”

The friends of classical learning in Great Britain assume, that the illustrious men whose education has been completed at either of the universities, and who reflect honor on the nation, have owed their celebrity and the development of their talents to those great establishments. The Edinburgh Review repudiates this idea as destitute of truth.

“It is in vain to say we have produced great men _under this system_. We have produced great men under all systems. _Every Englishman must pass half his life in learning Latin and Greek—and classical learning is supposed to have produced the talents_, WHICH IT HAS NOT BEEN ABLE TO EXTINGUISH.”—_Edinburgh Review, No. XXIX, p. 50._

Having offered some of the arguments against the prevailing system of classical education, it is but fair to exhibit some of those of its advocates.

“I believe I may say, though not without danger of offending the conductors of English academies, that _no man who does not understand Latin, can understand English!_”—_Knox on Education, p. 82._

“Latin themes, Latin declamations and Latin lectures are constantly required of academical students.”—_Idem, p. 78._

“Another argument in favor of the Latin exercises in our seminaries, is, that _it has a natural tendency to improve the student in English composition_.”—_Idem, p. 79._

“To write Latin in youth is an excellent preparation for that vernacular composition which some of the professions require.”—_Idem, p. 79._

“As soon as the grammar is perfectly learned by heart, [_perfectly learned by heart!!_] I advise that the practice of our ancient schools should be universally adopted—and that passages of the best classics, construed as a lesson in the day, should be given as a task to be learned memoriter at night.”—_Idem, p. 101._

“I recommend that the scholar's week shall be thus employed: Monday evening, in Latin themes; Tuesday evening, in Latin verse; Wednesday evening, in English or Latin letters; Thursday evening, in English verse; Friday evening, in Latin verse, or in translating English into Latin; and the interval, from Saturday to Monday, in a Latin or an English theme.”—_Idem, p. 59._

This is the “_toujours perdrix, toujours perdrix_” of the king of France.

“The exercise of mind, and the strength of mind acquired in consequence of that exercise, are some of the most valuable effects of a strict, a long, and a laborious study of the grammar, at the puerile age.”—_Idem, p. 46._

“Exercises in Latin verse, and in Latin prose, are usual in our best schools, and at the university. They are attended with very desirable effects, and pave the way for improvement in every kind of vernacular composition.”—_Idem, p. 99._

“A boy will be able to _repeat his Latin grammar over_ two or three years before his understanding is open enough to let him into the reason of the rules; and when this is done, sooner or later it ceases to be jargon, so that all this clamor is wrong-founded—and therefore I am for the old way in schools, since children _will be supplied with a stock of words, at least, when they come to know how to use them_.”—_Felton._

Muretus, a name of considerable celebrity in his day, goes far beyond all the other advocates of classical education. He appears to believe that every thing good or great, in art or science, depends on a thorough knowledge of the Greek. It is observable that Vicesimus Knox quotes him as one of his authorities.

“In the first place I would inform the gentlemen who have conceived a dislike to Greek, that all elegant learning, all knowledge worthy the pursuit of a liberal man, in a word, _whatever there is of the politer parts of literature is contained in no other books than those of the Greeks!!!_”—Muretus, quoted by Knox, p. 109.

“I may venture to predict, that if our countrymen should go on a little longer in the neglect of the Greek, _inevitable destruction awaits all valuable arts!_”—_Idem, p. 140._

{560} The system of classical education at present in use, has by no means improved with the general improvement of society. Classical studies occupy nearly as much of the invaluable time of a student, as they did two hundred years ago, when the Latin language was, if not the sole, at least the chief medium of communication between the literati throughout Christendom. At that period, it was nearly as necessary to study that language as it is now to study the vernacular tongue.

Again. Within that period, knowledge, of various kinds, has greatly expanded. Branches are now cultivated extensively that were only superficially attended to at that period. Political economy and politics are among these, as are chemistry, botany, and mineralogy. Geology may be almost said to be a new science altogether, as all that was then known of it, compared with its present state, is only as the Hill of Howth to Mount Caucasus. While such an extension of human knowledge has taken place, requiring long periods of devotion to new studies, ought not such portions of the old system as require, and will admit of, pruning, to experience a salutary curtailment?

I proceed to show how two of the great advantages of a classical education, stated in the fifth paragraph of this essay, (No. 3. and 4.) may be secured by this system to at least as great an extent as by the prevailing one; that is, No. 3, the familiarity with the illustrious examples of patriotism, public spirit, magnanimity, bravery, generosity, and other virtues, to be found scattered through the Grecian and Roman histories—the effect of which, on the youthful mind, has always proved eminently beneficial, and led to some of the most noble efforts of the elite of mankind; and No. 4, the impressing on the minds of the students the sublime moral lessons to be found in their poets.

If the question at issue were, whether we were to give up those advantages, of to give up the present system of classical education, the decision might be attended with some difficulty. But, fortunately, that is not the alternative. The system need not be absolutely abandoned in order to remove the solid objections to it, and to secure all its advantages. It only requires to be modified and rendered more conformable with the present state of society, the extension of human knowledge, and the wants of the students. It is merely proposed to circumscribe that study to the all-important capacity to read those languages with facility and correctness—in a word, to prune off, as worthless for the present purposes of society, those portions of the study which appear to demand a capacity to speak and write them—a capacity which is never required, and never employed, by above one man in five thousand of the inhabitants of the British dominions and of this country. The case is different with some of the inhabitants of the Continent of Europe. “But that is none of our concern.”