Aristotle and Ancient Educational Ideals, by Thomas Davidson

That's French for "the ancient system," as in the ancient system of feudal privileges and the exercise of autocratic power over the peasants. The ancien regime never goes away, like vampires and dinosaur bones they are always hidden in the earth, exercising a mysterious influence. It is not paranoia to believe that the elites scheme against the common man. Inform yourself about their schemes here.

Re: Aristotle and Ancient Educational Ideals, by Thomas Davi

Postby admin » Fri Apr 10, 2020 3:54 am

CHAPTER III: DORIAN OR SPARTAN EDUCATION

Go, tell at Sparta, thou that passest by,
That here, obedient to her laws, we lie.

—Simonides (Epitaph on the Three Hundred who fell at Thermopylæ).



This is a matter for which the Lacedæmonians deserve approbation: they are extremely solicitous about the education of their youth and make it a public function.

—Aristotle.


The Lacedæmonians impart to their children the look of wild beasts, through the severity of the exercises to which they subject them, their notion being that such training is especially calculated to heighten courage.

—Id.


These are so far behind in education and philosophy that they do not learn even letters.

—Isocrates.


Old Men. We were once strong men (youths).

Men. And we are; if you will, behold.

Boys. And we shall be far superior.—Spartan Choric Anthem.

They asked no clarion's voice to fire
Their souls with an impulse high:
But the Dorian reed and the Spartan lyre
For the sons of liberty!
So moved they calmly to their field,
Thence never to return,
Save bearing back the Spartan shield,
Or on it proudly borne!

—Hemans.


There was a law that the cadets should present themselves naked in public before the ephors every ten days; and, if they were well knit and strong, and looked as if they had been carved and hammered into shape by gymnastics, they were praised; but if their limbs showed any flabbiness or softness, any little swelling or sus[42]picion of adipose matter due to laziness, they were flogged and justiced there and then. The ephors, moreover, subjected their clothing every day to a strict examination, to see that everything was up to the mark. No cooks were permitted in Lacedæmon but flesh-cooks. A cook who knew anything else was driven out of Sparta, as physic for invalids.

—Ælian.


Every rational system of education is determined by some aim or ideal more or less consciously set up. That of the Dorians, and particularly of the Spartans, may be expressed in one word—Strength, which, in the individual, took the form of physical endurance, in the State, that of self-sufficiency (αὐτάρκεια). A self-sufficient State, furnishing a field for all the activities and aspirations of all its citizens, and demanding their strongest and most devoted exertions—such is the Dorian ideal. It is easy to see what virtues Dorian education would seek to develop—physical strength, bravery, and obedience to the laws of the State. Among the Dorians the human being is entirely absorbed in the citizen. The State is all in all.

The Dorian ideal realized itself chiefly in two places, Crete and Sparta. Both these were repeatedly held up in ancient times as models of well-governed states, and even Plato puts the substance of his Laws into the mouth of a Cretan.

About the details of Cretan education we are but poorly informed. Two things, however, we know: (1) that Lycurgus, the reputed founder of Spartan education, was held to have drawn many of his ideas from Crete, and (2) that the final result of Cretan education—and the same is true of all education that merges the man in the citizen—was, in spite of its[43] strictness, demoralizing. The character of the people was summed up by their poet Epimenides, a contemporary of Solon's, in a famous line quoted by St. Paul, "The Cretans are always liars, evil beasts, lazy bellies."

With regard to Spartan education our information is much greater, and we may therefore select it as the type of Dorian education generally.

The Peloponnesian Dorians having, through contact with the more civilized peoples whom they conquered, lost much of that rigorous discipline and unquestioning loyalty which made them formidable, were, in the ninth century b.c., becoming disorganized, so that in two of the Dorian states they were assimilated by the native population, the Argives and the Messenians. The same process was rapidly going on in the third state, Lacedæmon, when Lycurgus, fired with patriotic zeal, resolved to put an end to it, by restoring among his people the old Dorian military discipline. To prepare himself for this task, he visited Crete and studied its institutions. On his return he persuaded his countrymen to submit to a "Constitution," which ever afterwards went by his name. This constitution included a scheme of education, whose aim was a thorough training of the whole of the free citizens, both male and female, (1) in physical endurance, and (2) in complete subordination to the State. The former was sought to be imparted by means of a rigorous and often cruel, system of gymnastics; the latter, through choric music and dancing, including military drill. Spartan education, therefore, was confined to two branches, Gymnastics and Music.[44] Instruction in letters was confined to the merest elements. Sparta accordingly never produced a poet, an historian, an artist, or a philosopher of any note. Even the arrangers of her choruses were foreigners—Tyrtæus, Terpander, Arion, Alcman, Thaletas, Stesichorus.

As Spartan education was nothing more or less than a training for Spartan citizenship, we must preface our account of it by a few words on the Spartan State.

The government of Sparta was in the hands of a closed aristocracy, whose sole aim was the maintenance of its own supremacy, as against (1) foreign enemies, (2) Perioikoi, or disfranchised native citizens, (3) Helots, or native serfs. To secure this, it formed itself into a standing army, with a strict military organization. Sparta, its one abode, was a camp; all free inhabitants were soldiers. Though they were compelled to marry, the city contained no homes. The men and, from the close of their seventh year, the boys, lived in barracks and ate at public tables (Phiditia). The women had but one recognized function, that of furnishing the State with citizens, and were educated solely with a view to this. No other virtue was expected of them. Aristotle tells us that "they lived in every kind of profligacy and in luxury." Polyandry was common, and, when a woman lost all her husbands, she was often compelled to enter into relations with slaves, in order that she might not fail in her political duty.

Among a people organized on the basis of brute force, it were vain to look for any of the finer traits of human nature—gentleness, tenderness, sympathy,[45] pity, mercy. The mercilessness and cruelty of the Spartans were proverbial. Perioikoi and Helots incurring the displeasure or suspicion of the authorities were secretly put to death, without even the form of a trial. A striking instance of such cruelty is recorded by Thucydides. The facts are thus stated by Grote (History of Greece, vol. ii, pp. 376-7): "It was in the eighth year of the Peloponnesian War, after the Helots had been called upon for signal military efforts in various ways, ... that the ephors felt especially apprehensive of an outbreak. Anxious to single out the most forward and daring Helots, as men from whom they had most to dread, they issued proclamation that every member of that class who had rendered distinguished services should make his claim known at Sparta, promising liberty to the most deserving. A large number of Helots came forward to claim the boon: not less than two thousand of them were approved, formally manumitted, and led in solemn procession round the temples, with garlands on their heads, as an inauguration to their coming life of freedom. But the treacherous garland only marked them out as victims for sacrifice: every man of them forthwith disappeared; the manner of their death was an untold mystery."

Spartan education was entirely conducted by the State, at the expense of the State, and for the ends of the State. It differed in this respect from nearly every other system of Greek education. It was divided into four periods, corresponding respectively to childhood, boyhood, youth, and manhood.

(a) Childhood.—As soon as the Spartan child [46]came into the world, the State, through officers appointed for that purpose, sent to examine it. If it seemed vigorous, and showed no bodily defect, it was permitted to live, and forthwith adopted by the State; otherwise it was carried to the mountains and thrown over a precipice. The children accepted by the State were for the next seven years left in charge of their mothers, but, doubtless, still under State surveillance. Just how they were trained during these years, we do not know. We can only guess that they underwent very much the same process as other Greek children, any difference being in the direction of rigor. As the details of Greek education generally will be dealt with under the head of Athens, they may be omitted here.

(b) Boyhood.—On completing his seventh year, the Spartan boy was transferred from his mother's house and care to a public barracks and the direct tuition of the State. Although the boys were in charge of a special officer (παιδονόμος), who divided them into squads and companies, and arranged their exercises for them, they were nevertheless taught to regard every grown man as a teacher, and every such man was expected to correct them promptly and rigorously, whenever he saw them doing wrong. At the same time, every boy was expected to form an intimate connection with some one man, who then, to a large extent, became responsible for his conduct; and, though the choice in this matter rested with the parties concerned, it was considered a disgrace in a man, no less than in a boy, to be without such connection. Though this arrangement, it is said, often led to lamentable abuses,[47] there can be no doubt that it admirably served the purposes of Sparta. It furnished every boy with a tutor, who, under the circumstances, could hardly fail to treat him kindly, and who was interested in making him surpass all other boys in courage and endurance. This friendly influence of teacher on pupil was something in which the Greeks at all times strongly believed, and which formed an important force in all their education. In Sparta, as in Crete and Thebes, it was legally recognized. One of the duties of Spartan "inspirer" (εἰσπνήλας or εἴσπνηλος), as he was called, was to teach his young friend (ἀΐτας) to demean himself properly on all occasions, and to hold his tongue except when he had something very important to say. In this way it was that the young Spartans received their moral education, and acquired that effective brevity of speech which to this day we call "laconic."

The formal education of Spartan boys consisted mainly of gymnastics, music, choric dancing, and larceny. Their literary education was confined to a little reading, writing, and finger-arithmetic; everything beyond this was proscribed. And the reasons for this proscription are not difficult to discover. Sparta staked everything upon her political strength, and this involved two things, (1) equality among her free citizens, and (2) absolute devotion on their part to her interest, both of which the higher education would have rendered impossible. Education establishes among men distinctions of worth quite other than military, and gives them individual interests distinct from those of the State. It was the same[48] reason that induced Rome, during the best period of her history, to exclude her citizens from all higher education, which is essentially individual and cosmopolitan.

The education of the Spartan boys was conducted mostly in the open air and in public, so that they were continually exposed to the cheers or scoffs of critical spectators, to whom their performances were a continual amusement of the nature of a cock-fight. Whether the different "inspirers" betted on their own boys may be doubtful; but they certainly used every effort to make them win in any and every contest, and the "inspirer" of a "winning" boy was an envied man. The result was that many boys lost their lives amid cheers, rather than incur the disgrace of being beaten. Inasmuch as the sole purpose of gymnastics was strength and endurance; of dancing, order; and of music, martial inspiration, it is easy to see what forms these studies necessarily assumed; and we need only stop to remark that Dorian music received the unqualified approbation of all the great educational writers of antiquity,—even of Aristotle, who had only words of condemnation for Spartan gymnastics.

There was only one branch of Spartan school-education that was not conducted in public, and that was larceny. The purpose of this curious discipline was to enable its subjects to act, on occasion, as detectives and assassins among the ever discontented and rebellious Helots. How successful it was, may be judged from the incident recorded on page 45. Larceny, when successfully carried out under difficult circumstances, was applauded; when discovered, it was severely pun[49]ished. A story is told of a boy who, rather than betray himself, allowed a stolen fox, concealed under his clothes, to eat out his entrails.

In one respect Spartan education may claim superiority over that of most other Greek states: it was not confined to one sex. Spartan girls, though apparently permitted to live at home, were subjected to a course of training differing from that of their brothers only in being less severe. They had their own exercise-grounds, on which they learnt to leap, run, cast the javelin, throw the discus, play ball, wrestle, dance, and sing; and there is good evidence to show that their exercises had an admirable effect upon their physical constitution. That the breezy daughters of Sparta were handsomer and more attractive than the hot-house maidens of Athens, is a well-attested fact. Many Spartan women continued their athletic and musical exercises into ripe womanhood, learning even to ride spirited horses and drive chariots. If we may believe Aristotle, however, the effect of all this training upon their moral nature was anything but desirable. They were neither virtuous nor brave.

(c) Youth.—About the age of eighteen, Spartan boys passed into the class of epheboi, or cadets, and began their professional training for war. This was their business for the next twelve years, and no light business it was. For the first two years they were called melleirenes, and devoted themselves to learning the use of arms, and to light skirmishing. They were under the charge of special officers called bideoi, but had to undergo a rigid examination before the ephors every ten days (see p. 41). Their endurance was put[50] to severe tests. Speaking of the altar of Artemis Orthia, Pausanias says: "An oracle commanded the people to imbrue the altar with human blood, and hence arose the custom of sacrificing on it a man chosen by lot. Lycurgus did away with this practice, and ordained that, instead, the cadets should be scourged before the altar, and thus the altar is covered with blood. While this is going on, a priestess stands by, holding, in her arms the wooden image (of Artemis). This image, being small, is, under ordinary circumstances, light; but, if at any time the scourgers deal too lightly with any youth, on account of his beauty or his rank, then the image becomes so heavy that the priestess cannot support it; whereupon she reproves the scourgers, and declares that she is burdened on their account. Thus the image that came from the sacrifices in the Crimea has always continued to enjoy human blood." This Artemis appears, with a bundle of twigs in her arm, next to Ares, among the Spartan divinities, on the frieze of the Parthenon. At twenty years of age, the young men became eirenes, and entered upon a course of study closely resembling actual warfare. They lived on the coarsest food, slept on reeds, and rarely bathed or walked. They exercised themselves in heavy arms, in shooting, riding, swimming, ball-playing, and in conflicts of the most brutal kind. They took part in complicated and exhausting dances, the most famous of which was the Pyrrhic, danced under arms. They manned fortresses, assassinated Helots, and, in cases of need, even took the field against an enemy.

(d) Manhood.—At the age of thirty, being supposed [51]to have reached their majority, they fell into the ranks of full citizens, and took their share in all political functions. They were compelled to marry, but were allowed to visit their wives only rarely and by stealth. They sometimes had two or three children before they had ever seen their wives by daylight. When not engaged in actual war, they spent much of their time in watching the exercises of their juniors, and the rest in hunting wild boars and similar game in the mountains. Like Xenophon, they thought hunting the nearest approach to war.

Such was the education that Sparta gave her sons. That it produced strong warriors and patriotic citizens, there can be no doubt. But that is all: it produced no men. It was greatly admired by men like Xenophon and Plato, who were sick of Athenian democracy; but Aristotle estimated it at its true worth. He says: "As long as the Laconians were the only people who devoted themselves to violent exercises, they were superior to all others; but now they are inferior even in gymnastic contests and in war. Their former superiority, indeed, was not due to their training their young men in this way, but to the fact that they alone did so." And even Xenophon, at the end of a long panegyric on the Spartan constitution, is obliged to admit that already in his time it has fallen from its old worth into feebleness and corruption, and this in spite of the fact that he had his own sons educated at Sparta. When Sparta fell before the heroic and cultured Epaminondas, she fell unpitied, leaving to the world little or nothing but a warning example.
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Re: Aristotle and Ancient Educational Ideals, by Thomas Davi

Postby admin » Fri Apr 10, 2020 3:57 am

CHAPTER IV: PYTHAGORAS

Virtue and health and all good and God are a harmony.

—Pythagoras.


One is the principle of all.

—Philolaus the Pythagorean.


All things that are known have number.

—Id.


The principles of all virtue are three, knowledge, power, and choice. Knowledge is like sight, whereby we contemplate and judge things; power is like bodily strength, whereby we endure and adhere to things; choice is like hands to the soul, whereby we stretch out and lay hold of things.

—Theages the Pythagorean.


The Doric discipline, even in Sparta, where it could exhibit its character most freely, produced merely soldiers and not free citizens or cultivated men. It was, nevertheless, in its essential features, the Hellenic ideal, and numerous attempts were made to remedy its defects and to give it permanence, by connecting it with higher than mere local and aristocratic interests. One of the earliest and most noteworthy of these was made by Pythagoras.

This extraordinary personage appears to have been born in the island of Samos in the first quarter of the sixth century b.c. Though he was born among Ionians, his family appears to have been Achaian and, to some extent, Pelasgian (Tyrrhenian), having emigrated from Phlius in the Argolid. After distinguishing himself in Ionia, he emigrated in middle life to[53] Magna Græcia, and took up his abode in the Achaian colony of Croton, then a rich and flourishing city. The cause of his emigration seems to have been the tyranny of Polycrates, which apparently imparted to him a prejudice against Ionic tendencies in general. Whether he derived any part of his famous learning from visits to Egypt, Phœnicia, Babylonia, etc., as was asserted in later times, is not clear. It is not improbable that he visited Egypt, and there is good reason for believing that he became acquainted with Phœnician theology through Pherecydes of Syros. That he was an omnivorous student is attested by his contemporary, Heraclitus. He was undoubtedly affected by the physical theories current in his time in Ionia, while he plainly drew his political and ethical ideas from Sparta or Crete.

Of his activity in Ionia we know little; but we may perhaps conclude that it was of the same nature as that which he afterwards displayed in Italy. Here he appeared in the triple capacity of theologian, ethical teacher, and scientist. His chief interest for us lies in the fact that he was apparently the first man in Greece, and, indeed, in the western world, who sought to establish an ethical institution apart from the State. In this respect he bears a strong resemblance to the prophet Isaiah, who may be said to have originated the idea of a Church (see p. 133). Pythagoras' aim seems to have been to gather round him a body of disciples who should endeavor to lead a perfect life, based upon certain theological or metaphysical notions, and guided by a rule of almost monastic strictness. Like other men who have found themselves in the[54] midst of irreverence, selfishness, and democratic vulgarity and anarchy, he believed that his time demanded moral discipline, based upon respect for authority and character, with a firm belief in future retribution, and inculcated by a careful study of the order and harmony of nature; and such discipline he strove, with all his might, to impart. Having no faith in the capacity of the State to be an instrument for his purpose, he set to work independently of it, and seems to have met with very marked success, drawing to him many of the best men and women of Southern Italy. So numerous and powerful, indeed, did his followers become that they held the balance of power in several cities, and were able to use it for the enforcement of their own principles. As these were exceedingly undemocratic, and opposed to the tendencies of the time, they finally roused bitter opposition, so that the Pythagoreans were persecuted and attempts made to exterminate them with fire and sword. In this way their political influence was broken, and their assemblies suppressed; but the effect of Pythagoras' teaching was not lost. His followers, scattered abroad throughout the Hellenic world, carried his precepts and his life-ideal with them. In the following centuries they found many noble sympathizers—Pindar, Socrates, Plato, Epicharmus, etc.—and underwent many modifications, until they finally witnessed a resurrection, in the forms of Neo-Pythagoreanism and Neo-Platonism, after the Christian era. In these later guises, Pythagoreanism lost itself in mysticism and contemplation, turning its followers into inactive ascetics; but in its[55] original form it seems to have been especially adapted to produce men of vigorous action and far-sighted practicality. Milo of Croton, the inimitable wrestler; Archytas of Tarentum, philosopher, mathematician, musician, inventor, engineer, general, statesman; and Epaminondas, the greatest and noblest of Theban generals, were professed Pythagoreans.

We might perhaps express the aim of Pythagoras' pedagogical efforts by the one word Harmony. Just as he found harmony everywhere in the physical world, so he strove to introduce the same into the constitution of the human individual, and into the relations of individuals with each other. He may perhaps be regarded as the originator of that view of the world, of men, and of society which makes all good consist in order and proportion, a view which recommends itself strongly to idealists, and has given birth to all those social Utopias, whose static perfection seems to relieve the individual from the burden of responsibility, and which have been dangled before the eyes of struggling humanity from his days to ours. According to this view, which had its roots in Greek thought generally, the aim of education is to find for each individual his true place and to make him efficient therein. Man is made for order, and not order for man. He is born into a world of order, as is shown by the fact that number and proportion are found in everything that is known. Pythagoras, in his enthusiasm for his principle, carried his doctrine of numbers to absurd lengths, identifying them with real things; but this enthusiasm was not without its valuable results, since it is to Pythagoras and his[56] school that we owe the sciences of geometry and music. Moreover, experience must have taught him that it is one thing to propound a theory, another to make it effective in regulating human relations. In order to accomplish the latter object, he invoked the aid of divine authority and of the doctrines of metempsychosis and future retribution. Hence his educational system had a strong religious cast, which showed itself even outwardly in the dignified demeanor and quiet self-possession of his followers.

Harmony, then, to be attained by discipline, under religious sanctions, was the aim of Pythagoras' teaching. Believing, however, that only a limited number of persons were capable of such harmony, he selected his pupils with great care, and subjected them to a long novitiate, in which silence, self-examination, and absolute obedience played a prominent part. The aim of this was to enable them to overcome impulse, concentrate attention, and develop reverence, reflection, and thoughtfulness, the first conditions of all moral and intellectual excellence. While the first care was directed to their spiritual part, their bodies were by no means forgotten. Food, clothing, and exercise were all carefully regulated on hygienic and moral principles.

Regarding the details of Pythagoras' educational system we are not well informed; but the spirit and tendency of it have been embalmed for us in the so-called Golden Words, which, if not due to the pen of Pythagoras himself, certainly reach back to very near his time, and contain nothing at variance with what we otherwise know of his teaching. We insert a literal version.

The Golden Words.[57]

The Gods immortal, as by law disposed,
First venerate, and reverence the oath:
Then to the noble heroes, and the powers
Beneath the earth, do homage with just rites.

Thy parents honor and thy nearest kin,
And from the rest choose friends on virtue's scale.
To gentle words and kindly deeds give way,
Nor hate thy friend for any slight offence.
Bear all thou canst; for Can dwells nigh to Must.
These things thus know.

What follow learn to rule:
The belly first, then sleep and lust and wrath.
Do nothing base with others or alone:
But most of all thyself in reverence hold.

Then practise justice both in deed and word,
Nor let thyself wax thoughtless about aught:
But know that death's the common lot of all.

Be not untimely wasteful of thy wealth,
Like vulgar men, nor yet illiberal.
In all things moderation answers best.

Do things that profit thee: think ere thou act.

Let never sleep thy drowsy eyelids greet,
Till thou hast pondered each act of the day:
"Wherein have I transgressed? What have I done?
What duty shunned?"—beginning from the first,
Unto the last. Then grieve and fear for what
Was basely done; but in the good rejoice.

These things perform; these meditate; these love.
These in the path of godlike excellence
Will place thee, yea, by Him who gave our souls
The number Four, perennial nature's spring!
But, ere thou act, crave from the gods success.

These precepts having mastered, thou shalt know
The system of the never-dying gods
And dying men, and how from all the rest
Each thing is sunder'd, and how held in one:
And thou shalt know, as it is right thou shouldst,
That nature everywhere is uniform,
And so shalt neither hope for things that lie
Beyond all hope, nor fail of any truth.

But from such food abstain as we have named,
And, while thou seek'st to purge and free thy soul,
Use judgment, and reflect on everything,
Setting o'er all best Thought as charioteer.

Be glad to gather goods, nor less to lose.

Of human ills that spring from spirit-powers
Endure thy part nor peevishly complain.
Cure what thou canst: 'tis well, and then reflect:
"Fate never lays too much upon the good."

Words many, brave and base, assail men's ears.
Let these not disconcert or trammel thee;
But when untruth is spoken, meekly yield.

What next I say in every act observe:
Let none by word or deed prevail on thee
To do or say what were not best for thee.
Think ere thou act, lest foolish things be done;—
For thoughtless deeds and words the caitiff mark;—
But strongly do what will not bring regret.
Do naught thou dost not know; but duly learn.
So shall thy life with happiness o'erflow.

Be not neglectful of thy body's health;
But measure use in drink, food, exercise—
I mean by 'measure' what brings no distress.

Follow a cleanly, simple mode of life,
And guard against such acts as envy breed.
Then, if, when thou the body leav'st, thou mount
To the free ether, deathless shalt thou be
A god immortal,—mortal never more!


In this system six things are noteworthy: (1) Its comprehensiveness, in that it takes account of man's whole nature,—body, soul, and spirit; affections, intellect, and will, and of all his relations—to gods and men, to self and nature: (2) Its aimfulness, in that it promises happiness here and blessedness hereafter, as the reward of right living: (3) Its piety, in that it everywhere recognizes the need of divine assistance: (4) Its appreciation of science, as insight into the nature and grounds of multiplicity and unity: (5) Its stress laid on right doing, as the condition of right knowing: (6) Its belief in man's divinity and perfectibility. It is curious that the poem contains no reference to the doctrine of metempsychosis, which might apparently have been appealed to as a powerful moral sanction.

That a system like that of Pythagoras, combining the religious, the mystical, the scientific, the ethical, and the social tendencies of the Hellenic mind, should have exerted a deep and abiding influence, need not surprise us. We find profound traces of it, not only in all subsequent Greek thought, but even in foreign systems, such as Essenism, whose elements were Hebrew Nazarenism and Greek Pythagoreanism. The relations between Essenism and Christianity have not yet been determined. Of the effect of Pythagoras' teaching on Epaminondas I have already spoken.
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Re: Aristotle and Ancient Educational Ideals, by Thomas Davi

Postby admin » Fri Apr 10, 2020 4:31 am

CHAPTER V: IONIAN OR ATHENIAN EDUCATION

Let me now give an account of the Old Education, when I, uttering words of justice, was in my prime, and self-control was held in respect. In the first place, a child was not allowed to be heard uttering a grumble. Then all the boys of the quarter were obliged to march in a body, in an orderly way and with the scantest of clothing, along the streets to the music master's, and this they did even if it snowed like barley-groats. Then they were set to rehearse a song, without compressing their thighs,—either "Pallas, mighty city-stormer," or "A shout sounding far," putting energy into the melody which their fathers handed down. And, if any one attempted any fooling, or any of those trills like the difficult inflexions à la Phrynis now in vogue, he received a good threshing for his pains, as having insulted the Muses. Again, at the physical trainer's, the boys, while sitting, were obliged to keep their legs in front of them.... And at dinner they were not allowed to pick out the best radish-head, or to snatch away anise or celery from their elders, or to gourmandize on fish and field-fares, or to sit with their legs crossed.... Take courage, young man, and choose me, the Better Reason, and you shall know how to hate the public square, to avoid the bath-houses, to be ashamed of what is shameful, to show temper when any one addresses you in ribald language, to rise from your seat when your elders approach, and not to be a lubber to your own parents, or to do any other unseemly thing to mar the image of Modesty, or to rush to the house of the dancing-girl, and, while you are gaping at her performances, get struck with an apple by a wench and fall from your fair fame, or to talk back to your father, or, addressing him as Japhet, to revile the old age which made the nest for you.... Then, fresh and blooming, you will spend your time in the gymnasia, and not go about the public square, mouthing monstrous jokes, like the young men of to-day, or getting dragged into slippery, gumshon-bamboozling disputes, but, going down to the Academy, with some worthy companion of[61] your own age, you will start a running-match, crowned with white reed, smelling of smilax, leisure and deciduous white poplar, rejoicing in the spring, when the plane-tree whispers to the maple. If you do the things which I enjoin, and give your mind to them, you will always have a well-developed chest, a clear complexion, broad shoulders, and a short tongue.

—Aristophanes, Clouds (Speech of Right Reason).


In their systems of education, some states strive to impart a courageous habit to their people from their very childhood by a painful and laborious training, whereas we, though living in a free and natural way, are ready to meet them in a fair field with no favor.

—Pericles' Funeral Oration (Thucydides).


I will never disgrace these sacred arms, nor desert my companion in the ranks. I will fight for temples and public property, both alone and with many. I will transmit my fatherland, not only not less, but greater and better, than it was transmitted to me. I will obey the magistrates who may at any time be in power. I will observe both the existing laws and those which the people may unanimously hereafter make, and, if any person seek to annul the laws or to set them at nought, I will do my best to prevent him, and will defend them both alone and with many (all?). I will honor the religion of my fathers. And I call to witness Aglauros, Enyalios, Ares, Zeus, Thallo, Auxo, and Hegemone.

—Oath of the Athenian Epheboi.


Consider, Men of Athens, what careful provision was made by Solon, the ancient lawgiver, by Draco, and other lawgivers of that period, for the cultivation of good morals. In the first place, they made laws to secure a moral education for our children, and laid down, in plain terms, just what the free-born boy should study and how he should be nurtured; secondly, they made regulations regarding young men; and, thirdly, with regard to the other periods of life in their order, including both private persons and public speakers; and, having recorded these laws, they left them in your keeping, appointing you their guardians.

—Æschines (against Timarchus).


If systems of education are to be classified according to their results—and these are perhaps the fairest test—then the "Old Education" of Athens must be assigned a very high place. The character which she[62] displayed, and the exploits which she performed, in the early decades of the fifth century b.c., bear unequivocal testimony to the value of the training to which her citizens had previously been subjected. This training could perhaps hardly be better characterized than by the word "puritanical." The men who fought at Marathon, Salamis, and Platææ were puritans, trained, in a hard school, to fear the gods, to respect the laws, their neighbors, and themselves, to reverence the wisdom of experience, to despise comfort and vice, and to do honest work. They were not enfeebled by æsthetic culture, paralyzed by abstract thinking, or hardened by professional training. They were educated to be men, friends, and citizens, not to be mere thinkers, critics, soldiers, or money-makers. It was against a small band of such men that the hosts of Persia fought in vain.

It is natural that this "Old Education" of Athens should have a special interest for us, inasmuch as it seems, in great measure, to have solved the problem that must be uppermost with every true educator and friend of education, viz. How can strong, wise, and good men be produced? For this reason, as also because we are the better informed regarding the educational system of Athens than that of any other Greek state, it seems proper to devote special attention to it, treating it as preëminently Greek education. Indeed, whatever is permanently valuable in Greek education is to be found in that of Athens, other systems having mainly but an historical interest for us.

In comparing the education of Athens with that of Sparta, we are at once struck with two great distinc[63]tions: (1) While Spartan education is public, Athenian education is mainly private; (2) While Sparta educates for war, Athens educates for peace. As to the former of these, it is not a little remarkable that, while many of the first thinkers of Greece, including Plato and Aristotle, advocated an entirely public education, Athens never adopted it, or even took any steps in that direction. It seems as if the Athenians felt instinctively that socialistic education, by relieving parents of the responsibility of providing for the education of their own children, was removing a strong moral influence, undermining the family, and jeopardizing liberty. Perhaps the example of Sparta was not without its influence. No liberty-loving people, such as the Athenians were, would consent to merge the family in the State, or to sacrifice private life to public order. As to the second distinction, which was all-pervasive, it divides the two peoples by an impassable gulf and assigns them to two different grades of civilization. And it was one of which both peoples were entirely conscious. While Sparta represented her ideal by a chained Ares, Athens found hers in a Wingless Victory, a form of Athena, the divinity of political and industrial wisdom. As the aim of Sparta was strength, so that of Athens was Wisdom—the wise man in the wise state. By the "wise man," was meant he whose entire faculties of body, soul, and mind were proportionately and coördinately developed; by the "wise state," that in which each class of the population performed its proper function, and occupied its proper relation toward the rest, and this without any excessive exercise of author[64]ity. If the Spartan, like the artificially tamed barbarian, submitted to living by rule and command, the Athenian, like the naturally civilized man, delighted to live in a free and natural way (ἀνειμένως διαιτᾶσθαι) governed from within, and not from without. To make possible such life was the aim of Athenian education, which, instead of seeking to merge the man in the State, or to rend the two asunder, treated them as necessary correlates and strove to balance their claims.

The endeavor on the part of Athens to steer a middle course between socialism and individualism, is manifest in the fact that, though she had no public system of education, she took great care to see that her citizens were thoroughly educated in the spirit of her institutions, and, indeed, made such education a condition of citizenship, which was thus an academic degree, conferred only after careful examination. By a law of Solon's, parents who had failed to give their sons a proper education lost all claim upon them for support in their old age. Furthermore, Athens subjected all her male citizens to a systematic preparation for civil and military functions, before she allowed them to exercise these.

Athenian education comprised four grades corresponding to four institutions, (1) the family, (2) the school, (3) the gymnasium or college, (4) the State. We may consider these in their order.

(1) Family Education.

The birth of a child was regarded by the Athenians as a joyful event, as something calling for gratitude[65] to the gods. This expressed itself in a family festival, called the Amphidromia, celebrated usually on the seventh day after the birth. On this occasion, the child was carried rapidly round the family altar and received its name. A sacrifice was then offered to the gods, the mother was purified, and christening presents were displayed. The child was now a member of the family and under the protection of its gods. For the next seven years, it was wholly in the hands of parents and nurses, the latter being usually slaves. During this time its body was the chief object of care, and everything seems to have been done to render it healthy and hardy. Cradles do not seem to have been in use, and the child was sung to sleep on the nurse's knee. While it was being weaned, it was fed on milk and soft food sweetened with honey. As soon as it was able to move about and direct attention to external objects, it received playthings, such as rattles, dolls of clay or wax, hobby-horses, etc., and was allowed to roll and dig in the sand. Such were the simple gymnastics of this early period. As to the other branch of education, it consisted mostly in being sung to and in listening to stories about gods and heroes, monsters and robbers, of which Greek mythology was full. By means of these the child's imagination was roused and developed, and certain æsthetic, ethical, and national prepossessions awakened. Though children were often frightened from certain acts and habits by threats of bogles coming to carry them off, yet the chief ethical agency employed was evidently strict discipline. To secure good behavior in his children was the first care of the Athenian parent.[66] Though disinclined to harshness, he never doubted that "he who spareth the rod hateth the child." Children were never placed upon exhibition or applauded for their precocious or irreverent sayings. They were kept as much as possible out of the way of older people, and, when necessity brought them into the presence of these, they were taught to behave themselves quietly and modestly. No Greek author has preserved for us a collection of the smart sayings or roguish doings of Athenian children.

Though the Kindergarten did not exist in those old days, yet its place was, in great measure, filled by the numerous games in which the children engaged, in part at least under their nurses' superintendence. Games played so important a part in the whole life of the Greek people, and especially of the Athenians, that their importance in the education of children was fully recognized and much attention devoted to them. During play, character both displays itself more fully, and is more easily and deeply affected, than at any other time; and, since the whole of the waking life of the child in its earliest years is devoted to play, this is the time when character is formed, and therefore the time which calls for most sedulous care. In playing games, children not only exercise their bodies and their wits; they also learn to act with fairness, and come to feel something of the joy that arises from companionship and friendly rivalry in a common occupation. Moreover, as games have no end beyond themselves, they are admirable exercises in free, disinterested activity and a protection against selfish and sordid habits. Of all this the Athenians were fully aware.

[67]There are probably few games played by children in our day that were not known in ancient Athens. It seems, however, that games were there conducted with more system, and a deeper sense of their pedagogical value, than they are with us. We hear of running, leaping, hopping, catching, hitting, and throwing games, gymnastic games, and games of chance. The ball, the top, the hoop, the swing, the see-saw, the skipping rope, the knuckle-bones were as much in use in ancient, as in modern, times. Cards, of course, there were not; and, indeed, games of chance, though well known, seem rarely to have been indulged in by children. It hardly seems necessary to remark that there were some games peculiar to boys and others to girls, and that the latter were less rude than the former. Doubtless, too, the games played in the city, where the children would have few chances of going beyond their homes, were different from those played in the country, where almost complete freedom to roam in the open air was enjoyed. We must always bear in mind that well-to-do Athenian families spent the greater part of the year at their country-houses, which, with few exceptions, were so near the city that they could be reached even on foot in a single day. This country life had a marked effect upon the education of Athenian children.

(2) School Education.

About the age of seven, the Athenian boy, after being entered on the roll of prospective citizens in the temple of Apollo Patroös, and made a member of a[68] phratria, went to school, or, rather, he went to two schools, that of the music-master, and that of the physical trainer. He was always accompanied thither and back by a pedagogue, who was usually a slave, who carried his writing-materials, his lyre, etc. (there being no school-books to carry), and whom he was expected implicitly to obey. The boys of each quarter of the city collected every morning at some appointed place and walked to school, like little soldiers, in rank and file. They wore next to no clothing, even in the coldest weather, and were obliged to conduct themselves very demurely in the streets. The school hours were very long, beginning early in the morning and continuing till late in the evening. Solon found it necessary to introduce a law forbidding schoolmasters to have their schools open before sunrise or after sunset. It thus appears that boys, after the age of seven, spent their whole day at school, and were thus early withdrawn from the influence of their mothers and sisters, a fact which was not without its bearing upon morals.

There are several interesting points in connection with Athenian school life about which our information is so scanty that we are left in some doubt respecting them. For example, though it is quite plain that Athens had no system of public instruction, it is not so clear that she did not own the school buildings. Again, it is not certain whether music (including letters) and gymnastics were, or were not, taught in the same locality. Thirdly, there is some doubt about the number and order of the hours devoted to each of the two branches of study. In regard[69] to these points I can state only what seems to me most probable.

As to school buildings, we are expressly told by the author of the fragmentary tract on The Athenian State, currently attributed to Xenophon, but probably written as early as b.c. 424, that "the people (δῆμος) builds itself many palæstras, dressing-rooms, baths, and the masses have more enjoyment of these than the few that are well-to-do." If we assume that some of these palæstras were for boys, as we apparently have a right to do, we must conclude that some, at least, if not all, of the schools for bodily training were public edifices, let out by the State to teachers. Like all the great gymnasia, some, and possibly all, of them were situated outside the city walls and had gardens attached to them. Whether the music-schools were so likewise, is doubtful, and this brings us to our second question—whether the two branches of education were taught in the same place. That they were not taught in the same room, or by the same person, is clear enough; but it does not follow from this that they were not taught in the same building, or at any rate in the same enclosed space. Though there seems to be no explicit statement in any ancient author on this point, I think there are sufficient reasons for concluding that, generally at least, they were so taught. If we find that Antisthenes, Plato, and Aristotle, who may be said to have introduced a systematic "higher education" into Athens, opened their schools in the great public gymnasia, frequented by youths and men, we may surely conclude that the lower mental education was[70] not separated from the physical. In the Lysis of Plato, we find some young men coming out of a palæstra outside the city walls, and inviting Socrates to enter, telling him that their occupation (διατριβή) consists mostly in discussions (τὰ πολλὰ ἐν λόγοις), and that their teacher is a certain Miccus, an admirer of his. Socrates recognizes the man as a capable "sophist," a term never used of physical trainers. On entering, Socrates finds a number of boys and youths (νεανίσκοι) playing together, the former having just finished a sacrifice. It seems to follow directly from this that intellectual education was imparted in the palæstras. If this be true, we may, I think, conclude that in Athens the schools generally were outside the city walls, though the case was certainly different in some other cities.

In regard to our third question, it is clear that, if boys spent their whole day in one place, it would be more easy to divide it profitably between musical instruction and gymnastics than if they spent one part of it in one place, and another in another. Just how it was divided, we do not know, and I have little doubt that much depended upon the notions of parents and the tendencies of different periods. It is quite clear, from certain complaints of Aristotle's, that in Athens parents enjoyed great liberty in this matter. In any case, since, as we know, the institutions of education were open all day, it seems more than probable that one class of boys took their gymnastic lesson at one hour, another at another, and so with other branches of study. It cannot be that the physical training-schools were deserted when the music-schools[71] were in session. I think there is sufficient reason for believing that, generally, the younger boys took their physical exercises in the morning, and their intellectual instruction in the afternoon, the order being reversed in the case of the older boys. How much of the time spent at school was given up to lessons and how much to play, is not at all clear; but I am inclined to think that the playtime was at least as long as the worktime. The schools were for boys what the agora and the gymnasium were for grown men—the place where their lives were spent.

Before we consider separately the two divisions of Athenian education, a few facts common to them may be mentioned. In the first place, they had a common end, which was, to produce men independent but respectful, freedom-loving but law-abiding, healthy in mind and body, clear in thought, ready in action, and devoted to their families, their fatherland, and their gods. Contrary to the practice of the Romans, the Athenians sought to prepare their sons for independent citizenship at as early an age as possible. In the second place, the motives employed in both divisions were the same, viz. fear of punishment and hope of reward. As we have seen, the Athenian boy, if he behaved badly, was not spared the rod. As an offset against this, when he did well, he received unstinted praise, not to speak of more substantial things. Education, like everything else in Greece, took the form of competition. The Homeric line (Il., vi, 208; xi, 784),

"See that thou ever be best, and above all others distinguished,"


was the motto of the Athenian in everything. In the third place, in both divisions the chief aim was the realization of capacity, not the furthering of acquisition. Mere learning and execution were almost universally despised in the old time, while intelligence and capacity were universally admired. In the fourth place, in both divisions the utmost care was directed to the conduct of the pupils, so that it might be gentle, dignified, and rational. In the fifth place, education in both its branches was intended to enable men to occupy worthily and sociably their leisure time, quite as much as to prepare them for what might be called their practical duties in family, society, and State. The fine arts, according to the Greeks, furnished the proper amusements for educated men (πεπαιδευμένοι).

(α) Musical (and Literary) Instruction.

Though the Greek word music (μουσική) came in later times to have an extended meaning, in the epoch of which we are treating, it included only music in our sense, and poetry, two things which were not then separated. Aristophanes, as late as b.c. 422, can still count upon an audience ready to laugh at the idea of giving instruction in astronomy and geometry, as things too remote from human interests (Clouds, vv 220 sqq.). The poetry consisted chiefly of the epics of Homer and Hesiod, the elegiacs of Tyrtæus, Solon, Theognis, etc., the iambics of Archilochus, Simonides, etc., and the songs of the numerous lyrists, Terpander, Arion, Alcæus, Alcman, Sappho, [73]Simonides, etc. The music was simple, meant to "sweeten" (ἡδύνειν) the words and bring out their meaning. In fact, the music and the poetry were always composed together, so that the poet was necessarily also a musician. What we call "harmony" was unknown in Greek music at all times, and instrumental music was almost entirely confined to solo-playing.

In treating of Athenian, and, indeed, of all Greek, education, it is of the utmost importance to realize that the intellectual and moral part of it has music and poetry for its starting-point. This is the core round which everything else gathers; this is what determines its character, influence, and ideal. Culture, as distinguished from nature, is the material of Athenian intellectual and moral education; and by this is meant, not the history or theory of culture, as it might be set forth in prose, but culture itself, as embodied in the ideals and forms of music-wedded poetry, appealing to the emotions that stir the will, as well as to the intelligence that guides it.

By making the works of the great poets of the Greek people the material of their education, the Athenians attained a variety of objects difficult of attainment by any other one means. The fact is, the ancient poetry of Greece, with its finished form, its heroic tales and characters, its accounts of peoples far removed in time and space, its manliness and pathos, its directness and simplicity, its piety and wisdom, its respect for law and order, combined with its admiration for personal initiative and worth, furnished, in the hands of a careful and genial teacher, a material for a complete education such as could not well be[74] matched even in our own day. What instruction in ethics, politics, social life, and manly bearing could not find a fitting vehicle in the Homeric poems, not to speak of the geography, the grammar, the literary criticism, and the history which the comprehension of them involved? Into what a wholesome, unsentimental, free world did these poems introduce the imaginative Greek boy! What splendid ideals of manhood and womanhood did they hold up for his admiration and imitation! From Hesiod he would learn all that he needed to know about his gods and their relation to him and his people. From the elegiac poets he would derive a fund of political and social wisdom, and an impetus to patriotism, which would go far to make him a good man and a good citizen. From the iambic poets he would learn to express with energy his indignation at meanness, feebleness, wrong, and tyranny, while from the lyric poets he would learn the language suitable to every genial feeling and impulse of the human heart. And in reciting or singing all these, how would his power of terse, idiomatic expression, his sense of poetic beauty and his ear for rhythm and music be developed! With what a treasure of examples of every virtue and vice, and with what a fund of epigrammatic expression would his memory be furnished! How familiar he would be with the character and ideals of his nation, how deeply in sympathy with them! And all this was possible even before the introduction of letters. With this event a new era in education begins. The boy now not only learns and declaims his Homer, and sings his Simonides or Sappho, he learns also to write down[75] their verses from dictation, and so at once to read and to write. This, indeed, was the way in which these two (to us) fundamental arts were acquired. As soon as the boy could trace with his finger in sand, or scratch with a stylus on wax, the forms of the letters, and combine them into syllables and words, he began to write poetry from his master's dictation. The writing-lesson of to-day was the reading, recitation, or singing-lesson of to-morrow. Every boy made his own reading-book, and, if he found it illegible, and stumbled in reading, he had only himself to blame. The Greeks, and especially the Athenians, laid the greatest stress upon reading well, reciting well, and singing well, and the youth who could not do all the three was looked upon as uncultured. Nor could he hide his want of culture, since young men were continually called upon, both at home and at more or less public gatherings, to perform their part in the social entertainment.

The strictly musical instruction of this period was almost entirely confined to simple, strong Doric airs, sung to an accompaniment which was played on an instrument closely resembling the modern guitar (λύρα, κίθαρις). Complicated and wind instruments were unpopular, and the softer or more thrilling kinds of music, Lydian, Phrygian, etc., had not yet been introduced, at least into schools. Anything like the skill and execution demanded of professional players, who were usually slaves or foreigners, was considered altogether unworthy of a free man and a citizen, and was therefore not aimed at. Fond as the Athenians were of the fine arts, they always held professional[76] skill in any of them, except poetry and musical composition, to be incompatible with that dignity and virtue which they demanded of the free citizen. A respectable Athenian would no more have allowed his son to be a professional musician than he would have allowed him to be a professional acrobat.

It is difficult for us to understand the way in which the Greeks regarded music. Inferior as their music was to ours in all technical ways, it exerted an influence upon their lives of which we can form but a faint conception. To them it was a dæmonic power, capable of rousing or assuaging the passions, and hence of being used for infinite good or evil. No wonder, then, that in their education they sought to employ those kinds which tended to "purgation" (κάθαρσις), and to avoid those that were exciting, sentimental, or effeminate! No wonder that they disapproved of divorcing music from the intellectual element contained in the words, and allowing it to degenerate into a mere emotional or sensual luxury! Music the Greeks regarded, not indeed as a moral force (a phrase that to them, who regarded morality as a matter of the will, would have conveyed no meaning), but as a force whose office it was, by purging and harmonizing the human being, to make him a fit subject for moral instruction. Music, they held, brought harmony, first into the human being himself, by putting an end to the conflict between his passions and his intelligent will, and then, as a consequence, into his relations with his fellows. Harmony within was held to be the condition of harmony without.

In the period of which I am speaking, no distinc[77]tion was yet made between music and literature (γράμματα), both being taught by the citharist (κιθαριστής). Indeed, the term for teacher of literature (γραμματιστής) was not then invented. But the citharist not only taught literature: he also taught the elements of arithmetic, a matter of no small difficulty, considering the clumsy notation then in use. This was done by means of pebbles, a box of sand, or an abacus similar in principle to that now used by billiard players to keep count of their strokes.

As to the schoolrooms in ancient Athens, they were apparently simple in the extreme; indeed, rather porches open to sun and wind than rooms in the modern sense. They contained little or no furniture. The boys sat upon the ground or upon low benches, like steps (βάθρα), while the teacher occupied a high chair (θρόνος). The benches were washed, apparently every day, with sponges. The only decorations permitted in the schoolrooms, it seems, were statues or statuettes of the Muses and Apollo, and the school festivals or exhibitions were regarded as festivals in honor of these. Indeed, in Greece every sort of festival was regarded as an act of worship to some divinity. The chief school festival seems to have been the Musēa (μουσεῖα), at which the boys recited and sang.

(β) Gymnastics or Bodily Training.

Under the term Gymnastics (γυμναστική), the Greeks generally included everything relating to the culture of the body. The ends which the Athenians sought to reach through this branch of education were health,[78] strength, adroitness, ease, self-possession, and firm, dignified bearing. A certain number of boys, intending to take part in the Olympic and other great games, were allowed to train as athletes under a gymnast (γυμναστής, ἀλείπτης) in the public gymnasia, and under the direction of the State; but these were exceptions. The athlete was not an ideal person at Athens, as he was at Thebes and Sparta.

Gymnastic exercises were conducted partly in the palæstras, or wrestling schools, partly on the race-courses, both of which were under the direction of professional trainers (παιδοτρίβαι). In early times, the palæstra and race-course were simply an open space covered with sand and probably connected with the school (διδασκαλεῖον), thus corresponding to our playground. Later, this space was partly covered over and furnished with dressing-rooms, a bath, seats for spectators, an altar for sacrifices, statues, etc. Of the five gymnastic exercises in which boys were trained, all except wrestling seem to have been conducted on the race-course, so that the palæstra was reserved for what its name implied. It is by no means certain that every palæstra had a race-course connected with it, at least in the time of which we are speaking, and possibly in many cases the boys took part of their exercises in the public race-course running from the agora to beyond the walls. Just as the schoolroom was decorated with images of Apollo and the Muses, so the palæstra was decorated with images of Hermes, Heracles, and Eros, symbolizing, respectively, adroitness, human strength, and youthful friendship. The special patron of the palæstra[79] was Hermes, and the gymnastic exhibition took the form of a festival to him, the Hermæa, at which a sacrifice was offered and the boys were allowed the use of the building to play games in, the victors wearing crowns.

It would be impossible, in a work of this compass, to enter into a minute description of all the exercises of the Athenian palæstra. We must be content with a general statement, which may be prefaced with the remark that these exercises were at first light, increasing gradually in rigor and difficulty as the strength and skill of the growing child permitted.

The chief gymnastic exercises were five, named in this order in a famous line of Simonides: (1) leaping, (2) running, (3) discus-throwing, (4) javelin-casting, (5) wrestling (πάλη), which last gave the name to the palæstra. We shall not strictly follow this order, but begin with

(1) Running.—This was the simplest, lightest, most natural, and, therefore, the most easily taught of exercises. It was probably also the oldest. We find even Homer making his ideal Phæacians begin their games with it, and this practice seems to have been general throughout antiquity. In taking this exercise, the boys divested themselves of all clothing and had their bodies rubbed with oil. The running appears to have been of the simplest kind. Hurdle-races, sack-races, etc., were apparently excluded from education. At the same time, the running was rendered difficult by the soft sand with which the course was covered to the depth of several inches. The races were distinguished according to their length in fur[80]longs or stadia: (1) the furlong-race, (2) the double-furlong race, (3) the horse (four-furlong) race, (4) the long race, whose length seems to have been twenty-four furlongs, or about three miles. The stadion was = 202¼ yards English. The shorter races called for brief concentration of energy, the longer for persistence and endurance; all were exercises in agility; all tended to develop lung-power.

(2) Leaping or Jumping.—This exercise seems, in the main, to have confined itself to the long leap. Though the high leap and the pole-jump can hardly have been unknown, we have no evidence that they were ever employed in the gymnastic training of boys. There may have been hygienic reasons which forbade their use. On the other hand, boys were taught to lengthen their leap by means of weights, somewhat similar to our dumb-bells, carried in their hands, and swung forward in the act of leaping. Such leaping would be an exercise for the arms, as well as for the legs and the rest of the body. But, just as there were two exercises intended chiefly for the legs, so there were two intended chiefly for the arms—discus-throwing and javelin-casting.

(3) Discus-throwing.—The modern world has been rendered very familiar with the method of this exercise by the copies of the discobolus of Myron, preserved in Rome and extensively engraved and photographed, and that of the discobolus of Alcamenes which now stands in the Vatican (see Overbeck, Griech. Plastik vol. i, p. 276). The discus was generally a flat, round piece of stone or metal, a sort of large quoit with no hole in the middle, which the user sought to[81] throw as far as he could. The discobolus of Alcamenes shows us a youth balancing the discus in his left hand, and taking the measure of his throw with his eye; that of Myron shows us another in the act of throwing. He swings the discus backward in his right hand, and bends his body forward to balance it. His right foot, the toes contracted with effort, rests firmly on the ground; the left is slightly lifted; the whole body is like a bent bow. In the next instant the left foot will advance, the left hand, now resting on the right knee, will swing backwards, the body will resume its erect position, and the discus will be shot forward from the right hand like an arrow. Nothing could show more clearly than does this statue the perfect organization, symmetry, and balance which were the aim of Greek gymnastics. Not one limb could be moved without affecting all the rest,—which shows that the exercise extended to the whole body.

(4) Javelin-casting.—The aim of this exercise was to develop skill and precision of eye and hand, rather than strength of muscle. The instrument employed was a short dagger or lance, which was aimed at a mark. He who could hit the mark from the greatest distance was the most proficient scholar. The spear, before being thrown, was balanced in the right hand at the height of the ear.

(5) Wrestling.—This very complicated exercise was evidently the principal one in the gymnastic course, the one to which the others were merely preparatory. It was the only one which a boy could not practice by himself. It exercised not only the whole body, but the patience and temper as well. The aim of the[82] wrestler was to throw (καταβλλειν) his antagonist. Those who took part in this exercise had their bodies rubbed with oil and strewn with fine sand. It seems that the wrestler was allowed to do anything he chose to his antagonist except to bite, strike, or kick him. Before he could claim the victory he had to throw him three times. After the contest the wrestlers scraped from their bodies, with a strigil, the oil and dust,[2] bathed, were again rubbed with oil, exposed their bodies to the sun, in order to dry and tan them, and dressed. The bathing was done in cold water, and both the bathing and the sunning were in part intended to inure the body to sudden cold and heat, which inurement was considered a very essential part of physical training.

Such were the chief exercises employed in the gymnastic training of the Athenians. Thus far, we have considered the two branches of education as conducted separately, and as not coming at any point in contact with each other. But it would have been very unlike the Greek, and especially the Athenian, to leave the two divisions of education unrelated and unharmonized. And, indeed, he did not so leave them, but brought them together in the most admirable way in what he called orchesis, a word for which we have no better equivalent than

(γ) Dancing (ὄρχησις, χορός).

"Dancers," says Aristotle, "by means of plastic rhythms (rhythms reproduced in plastic forms) imi[83]tate characters, feelings, and actions." Xenophon, in his Anabasis, describing a banquet that took place in the wilds of Paphlagonia, says: "After the treaty was ratified and the pæan sung, there first rose up two Thracians and danced in armor to the flute, leaping high and lightly, and using their swords. Finally one of them struck the other, so that everybody thought he had wounded him; but he fell in an artificial way. Then the Paphlagonians raised a shout; but the assailant, having despoiled the fallen man of his armor, went out singing the Sitalcas. Then others of the Thracians carried out the other as if he had been dead; but he was none the worse. Next, some Ænianes and Magnesians stood up and danced the so-called Carpæa in armor. The manner of the dance was this: one man, putting his arms within reach, sows and drives a team, frequently turning round as if afraid. Then a robber makes his appearance. As soon as the other espies him, he seizes his arms, advances to him, and fights in front of the team. And the two did this keeping time to the flute. Finally the robber, having bound the other, carries off both him and the team; sometimes, on the contrary, the ploughman binds the robber, in which case he yokes him, with his hands bound behind his back, to his oxen and drives off." Several other dances, performed by persons of different nationalities, follow; but enough has been quoted to show that the Greek ὄρχησις was something very different from our dancing. It was, indeed, a pantomimic ballet, interspersed with tableaux vivans.

In the dances here mentioned, the flute is the instrument employed, and this the player could not[84] accompany with his voice. But in the Athenian schools, in the old time, the flute, and all music without words, were tabooed. There can be no doubt, therefore, that in these the orchestic performances were accompanied by the lyre, the player on which sang in words what the dancers danced. It is obvious that in such performances the musical (literary) and gymnastic branches of education came in for about equal shares. Dancing exercised the whole human being, body and soul, and exercised them in a completely harmonious way. It is this harmony, this rhythmic movement of the body in consonance with the emotions of the soul and the purposes of the intelligence, that is grace (χάρις). Hence, while the Greeks relied upon gymnastics to impart strength and firmness to the body, they looked to dancing for courtliness and grace. Plato places the two on the same footing, as parts of a single discipline.

The fact that the two divisions of education met in dancing seems to prove what I surmised above, viz. that they were conducted within the same precincts; in which case we may suppose that, while the dancing exercises took place in the palæstra, the music was supplied by the music master. We know that the chorus-leader was a public officer, appointed by the demos, and had to be over forty years old. In any case, it is curious enough to think that Athenian, and, generally, Greek, education culminated in dancing. But this was a perfectly logical result; for the chorus is the type of Greek social life, as we see most clearly in the Republic of Plato. It hardly needs to be pointed out that the supreme form of Greek art, the drama,[85] was but a development of the Bacchic or Dionysiac chorus. This development consisted in the separation of the music from the pantomime, and the assignment of the former to the chorus, which no longer danced, but walked, and of the latter to the actors, who added the dialogue to it. Greek life was divided into three parts—civil, military, religious. Music and letters were a preparation for the first, gymnastics for the second, and dancing for the third. Dancing formed a prominent part in Greek worship, and it may be doubted whether free Athenians ever danced except "before the gods "—ἐν ταῖς πρὸς τοὺς θεοὺς προσόδοις, as Xenophon says.

Two things still remain to be considered with regard to Athenian schools, (1) grading, (2) holidays. With respect to the former, the practice probably differed at different times; but we seem to be justified in assuming that, at the time of which I am speaking, there were but two grades, boys (παῖδες) and youths (νεανίσκοι). These are mentioned by Plato, in the Lysis, as celebrating the Hermæa together in a palæstra. The first grade would include the boys from seven to eleven years of age; the second, those from eleven to fifteen. As to holidays, they seem to have been simply the feast-days of the greater gods, when business of every sort was suspended. Such days amounted to about ninety annually.

(3) College Education.

About the time when he was blossoming into manhood, that is, some time between his fourteenth and his sixteenth year, the Athenian boy of the olden time[86] was transferred from the private school and palæstra, which belonged to the family side of life, to the gymnasium, which belonged to the State, and in which he received the education calculated to fit him for the duties of a citizen. Having, in the family and the school, been trained to be a gentleman (καλοκἀγαθός), he must now be trained to be a citizen, capable of exercising legislative, judicial, and military functions. The State saw to it that he received this training, if his parents chose and could afford it.

In the time of Solon, about b.c. 590, two great gymnasia, the Academy and Cynosarges, were erected in the midst of extensive groves outside the city walls. These groves were afterwards surrounded with high walls, furnished with seats and other conveniences, and turned into city parks. The Academy, which lay to the northwest of the city, in the valley of the Cephisus, and was under the patronage of Athena, was the resort of the full-blooded citizens, while Cynosarges, situated to the east of the city, near the foot of Lycabettus, was assigned to those who had foreign blood in their veins, that is, who had only one parent of pure Athenian stock. This gymnasium was under the patronage of Heracles, whose worship always implies the presence of a foreign and vanquished element. These were the only two gymnasia belonging to Athens before the time of Pericles. They were, probably, destroyed by the Persians in 480, and had afterwards to be rebuilt, and the groves replanted.

While the children of nearly all the free citizens of Athens attended the school and the palæstra, it is[87] clear that only the youth of the wealthier classes attended the gymnasium. One result of this was that the government and offices of the State fell exclusively into the hands of those classes; and it was perhaps just in order to make this division, without introducing any class-law, that the shrewd Solon established the gymnasia, which thus became a bulwark against democracy.

As soon as the Athenian youth was transferred to the gymnasium, he passed from under the charge of the pedagogue, who represented the family, and came under the direct surveillance of the State. He was now free to go where he would, to frequent the agora and the street, to attend the theatre, in which he had his appointed place, and to make himself directly acquainted with all the details of public life. In the gymnasium he passed into the hands of a gymnast or scientific trainer, and for the next two or three years was subjected to the severer exercises, wrestling, boxing, etc. No special provision, beyond the fact that he had to learn the laws, was made for his intellectual and moral instruction. He was expected to acquire this from contact with the older citizens whom he met in the agora, the street, or the public park. Thus, at what is justly regarded as the most critical age, he was almost compelled to live a free, breezy, outdoor life, full of activity and stirring incident, his thoughts and feelings directed outwards into acts of will, and not turned back upon himself or his own states. At the same time he was acquiring just that practical knowledge of ethical laws and of real life which could best fit him for active citizenship. He now learnt to[88] ride, to drive, to row, to swim, to attend banquets, to sustain a conversation, to discuss the weightiest questions of statesmanship, to sing and dance in public choruses, and to ride or walk in public processions. If he abused his liberty and behaved in a lawless or unseemly way, he was called to account by the severe Court of the Areopagus, which attended to public morals. He saw little of girls of his own age, except his sisters, unless it was at public festivals, when there was little opportunity of becoming acquainted with them. His affectionate nature therefore expressed itself mostly in the form of devoted friendships to other youths of his own, or nearly his own, age, a fact which enables us to understand why friendship fills so large a space, not only in the life, but also in the ethical treatises of the Greeks,—Plato, Aristotle, etc.,—and why love, in the modern sense, plays so insignificant a part. The truth is that, even in Athens, the State encroached upon the family. Plato's Republic was only the logical carrying out of principles that were latent long before in the social life of the Athenian people.

It would be impossible to treat in detail the exercises to which the Athenian youth was subjected during the years in which he attended the public gymnasium as a pupil. The old exercises of the palæstra were continued, running and wrestling especially; but the former was now done in armor, and the latter became more violent, and was supplemented by boxing. In fact, the physical exercises were now systematized into the pentathlon—running, leaping, discus-throwing, wrestling, boxing—which formed[89] the programme of nearly all gymnastic exhibitions. During these years, the youth was still regarded as a minor, and his father or guardian was responsible for his good behavior. But when he reached the age of eighteen, a change took place, and he passed under the direct control of the State. His father now brought him before the reeve of his demos (ward or village), as a candidate for independent citizenship. If he proved to be the lawful child of free citizens, and came up to the moral and physical requirements of the law, his name was entered upon the register of the demos, and he became a member of it. He was now prepared to be presented to the whole people, and to pass the State examination. He shore his long hair for the first time, and donned the black garment of the citizen. In this guise he presented himself to the king-archon of the State, who, at a public assembly, introduced him, along with others, to the whole people. He was then and there armed with spear and shield (supplied by the State if his father had fallen in war), and thence proceeded to the shrine of Aglauros, where, looking down on the agora, the city, and the Attic plain, he took the Solonian oath of citizenship (see p. 61). He was now technically an ephēbos, cadet, or citizen-novice, ready to undergo those two years of severe discipline which at once formed his introduction to practical affairs, and constituted the State examination. During the first year he remained in the neighborhood of Athens, drilling in arms, and acquiring a knowledge of military tactics. His life was now the hard life of a soldier. He slept in the open air, or in the guard-houses[90] (φρούρια) that surrounded the city, and was liable to be called upon at any time by the government to give aid in an emergency. He also took part in the public festivals. At the end of the year, all the ephēboi of one year's standing passed an examination in military drill before the assembled people (ἀπεδείξαντο τῷ δήμῳ περὶ τὰς τάξεις[3]), after which they were employed as militia to man the frontier guard-houses, and as rural gendarmerie (περίπολοι), scouring the country in all directions. They now lived like soldiers in war-time, and learnt two important things, (1) the topography of Attica, its roads, passes, brooks, springs, etc., (2) the art of enforcing law and order. Their life, indeed, closely resembled that of the Alpine corps (Alpini) of the Italian army at the present day. These spend the summer in making themselves acquainted with every height, valley, pass, stream, and covert in the Italian Alps, often bivouacking for days together at great heights. That during this time the ephēboi should have taken any part in the legislative or judicial duties of citizens, seems in the highest degree improbable. At the end of their second year, however, they passed a second examination, called the citizenship or manhood examination (δοκιμασία εἰς ἄνδρας), after which they were full members of the State.

(4) University Education.

The Greek university was the State, and the Greek State was a university—a Cultur-Staat, as the Ger[91]mans say. That the State is a school of virtue, was a view generally entertained in the ancient world, which, until it began to decay, completely identified the man with the citizen. The influence of this view upon the attitude of the individual to the State, and of the State to the individual, can hardly be overestimated. The State claimed, and the individual accorded to it, a disciplinary right which extended to every sphere and action of life. Thus the sphere of morality coincided exactly with the sphere of legality, or, to put it the other way, the sphere of legality extended to the whole sphere of morality, and this was considered true, whatever form the State or government might assume—monarchy, aristocracy, democracy, etc.

To give a full account of the university education of old Athens would be to write her social and political history up to the time of the Persian Wars. This is, of course, out of the question. All I can do is to point out those elements in the State which enabled it to produce that splendid array of noble men, and accomplish those great deeds and works, which make her brief career seem the brightest spot in the world's history.

The chief of these elements, and the one which included all the rest, was the Greek ideal of harmony. Athens was great as a State and as a school so long as she embodied that ideal, so long as she distributed power and honor in accordance with worth (ἀρετή) intellectual, moral, practical; in a word, so long as the State was governed by the best citizens (ἄριστοι), and the rest acknowledged their right to do so. Not[92]withstanding the contention of Grote and others, it is strictly true that Athens was great because, and so long as, she was aristocratic (in the ancient sense), and perished when she abandoned her fundamental ideal by becoming democratic. This assertion must not be construed as any slur upon democracy as such, or as denying that Athens in perishing paved the way for a higher ideal than her own. It simply states a fact, which may be easily generalized without losing its truth: An institution perishes when it abandons the principle on which it was founded and built up. Unless we bear this in mind, we shall utterly fail to understand the lesson of Athenian history. If it be maintained that some of Athens' noblest work was done under the democracy, the sufficient answer is, that it was nearly all done by men who retained the spirit of the old aristocracy, and bitterly opposed the democracy. We need name only Æschylus, Sophocles, Aristophanes, Plato, Aristotle, Demosthenes.
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Re: Aristotle and Ancient Educational Ideals, by Thomas Davi

Postby admin » Fri Apr 10, 2020 4:34 am

Part II: THE "NEW EDUCATION" (b.c. 480-338)

CHAPTER I: INDIVIDUALISM AND PHILOSOPHY


Homer ought to be driven from the lists and whipt, and Archilochus likewise.

—Heraclitus.


Thou needs must have knowledge of all things,
First of the steadfast core of the Truth that forceth conviction,
Then of the notions of mortals, where true conviction abides not.

—Parmenides.


All things were undistinguished: then Intellect came and brought them into order.

—Anaxagoras.


Man is the measure of all things.

In regard to the Gods, I am unable to know whether they are or are not.

—Protagoras.


Strepsiades. Don't you see what a good thing it is to have learning? There isn't any Zeus, Phidippides!

Phidippides. Who is there then?

Streps. Vortex rules, having dethroned Zeus.

Phid. Pshaw! what nonsense!

Streps. You may count it true, all the same.

Phid. Who says so?

Streps. Socrates the Melian, and Chærephon, who knows the footprints of fleas.

—Aristophanes, Clouds.


There is an old-fashioned saw, current of yore among mortals, that a man's happiness, when full-grown, gives birth and dies not childless, and that from Fortune there springs insatiate woe for all his race. But I, dissenting from all others, am alone of differ[94]ent mind. It is the Irreverent Deed that begets after it more of its kind. For to righteous homes belongs a fair-childrened lot forever; but old Irreverence is sure to beget Irreverence, springing up fresh among evil men, when the numbered hour arrives. And the new Irreverence begets Surfeit of Wealth, and a power beyond all battle, beyond all war, unholy Daring, twin curses, black to homes, like to their parents. But Justice shines in smoky homes, and honors the righteous life, and, leaving, with averted eyes, foundations gilded with impurity of hands, she draws nigh to holy things, honoring not the power of wealth, with its counterfeit stamp of praise. And her will is done.

—Æschylus.


From the time they are children to the day of their death, we teach them and admonish them. As soon as the child understands what is said to him, his nurse and his mother and his pedagogue and even his father vie with each other in trying to make the best of him that can be made, at every word and deed instructing him and warning him, "This is right," "This is wrong," "This is beautiful," "This is ugly," "This is righteous," "This is sinful," "Do this," "Don't do that." And if the child readily obeys, well and good; if he does not, then they treat him like a bent and twisted stick, straightening him out with threats and blows. Later on, they send him to school, and then they lay their injunctions upon the masters to pay much more attention to the good behavior of their sons than to their letters and music (κιθάρισις); and the teachers act upon these injunctions. Later yet, when they have learnt to read, and are proceeding to understand the meaning of what is written, just as formerly they understood what was said to them, they put before them on the benches to read the works of good poets, and insist upon their learning them by heart—works which contain many admonitions, and many narratives, noble deeds, and eulogies of the worthy men of old—their purpose being to awaken the boy's ambition, so that he may imitate these men and strive to be worthy likewise. The music-teachers also, pursuing the same line, try to inculcate self-control (σωφροσύνη) and to prevent the boys from falling into mischief. In addition to this, when they have learnt to play on the lyre, their masters teach them other poems, written by great lyric poets, making them sing them and play the accompaniments to them, and compelling them to work into their souls the rhythms and melodies of them, so that they may grow in gentleness, and, having their natures timed and tuned, may be fitted to speak and act. The truth is, the whole life of man needs timing[95] and tuning. Furthermore, in addition to all this, parents send their sons to the physical trainer, in order that their bodies may be improved and rendered capable of seconding a noble intent, and they themselves not be forced, from physical deterioration, to play the coward in war or other (serious) matters. And those who can best afford to give this education, give most of it, and these are the richest people. Their sons go earliest to school and leave it latest. And when the boys leave school, the State insists that they shall learn the laws and live according to them, and not according to their own caprice ... And if any one transgresses these laws, the State punishes him ... Seeing that so much attention is devoted to virtue, both in the family and in the State, do you wonder, Socrates, and question whether virtue be something that can be taught? Surely you ought not to wonder at this, but rather to wonder if it could not be taught.

—Plato, Protagoras (words of Protagoras).


"Isn't it true, Lysis," said I, "that your parents love you very much?"—"To be sure," said he.—"Then they would wish you to be as happy as possible?"—"Of course," said he.—"And do you think a person is happy who is a slave, and is not allowed to do anything he desires?"—"I don't, indeed," said he.—"Then, if your father and mother love you and wish you to be happy, they endeavor by every means in their power to make you happy."—"To be sure they do," said he.—"Then they allow you to do anything you please, and never chide you, or prevent you from doing what you desire."—"By Jove! they do, Socrates: they prevent me from doing a great many things."—"What do you mean," said I; "they wish you to be happy, and yet prevent you from doing what you wish? Let us take an example: If you want to ride in one of your father's chariots, and to hold the reins, when it is competing in a race, won't they allow you, or will they prevent you?"—"By Jove! no: they would not allow me," said he. "But why should they? There is a charioteer, who is hired by my father."—"What do you mean? They allow a hired man, rather than you, to do what he likes with the horses, and pay him a salary besides?"—"And why not?" said he.—"Well then, I suppose they allow you to manage the mule-team, and if you wanted to take the whip and whip it, they would permit you."—"How could they?" said he.—"What?" said I: "is nobody allowed to whip it?"—"Of course," he said; "the muleteer."—"A slave or a free man?"—"A slave," said he.—"And so it seems they think more of a slave than of[96] their son, and entrust their property to him rather than to you, and allow him to do what he pleases, whereas they prevent you. But, farther, tell me this. Do they allow you to manage yourself, or do they not even trust you to that extent?"—"How trust me?" said he.—"Then does some one manage you?"—"Yes, my pedagogue here," said he.—"But he is surely not a slave?"—"Of course he is, our slave," said he.—"Is it not strange," said I, "that a freeman should be governed by a slave? But, to continue, what is this pedagogue doing when he governs you?"—"Taking me to a teacher, or something of the kind," he said.—"And these teachers, it cannot be that they too govern you?"—"To any extent."—"So then your father likes to set over you a host of masters and managers; but, of course, when you go home to your mother, she lets you do what you like, in order to make you happy, either with the threads or the loom, when she is weaving—does she not? She surely doesn't in the least prevent you from handling the batten, or the comb, or any of the instruments used in spinning."—And he, laughing, said: "By Jove, Socrates; she not only prevents me, but I should be beaten if I touched them."—"By Hercules," said I, "isn't it true that you have done some wrong to your father and mother?"—"By Jove, not I," he said.—"But for what reason, then, do they so anxiously prevent you from being happy, and doing what you please, and maintain you the whole day in servitude to some one or another, and without power to do almost anything you like. It seems, indeed, that you derive no advantage from all this wealth, but anybody manages it rather than you, nor from your body, nobly born as it is, but some one else shepherds it and takes care of it. But you govern nothing, Lysis, and do nothing that you desire."—"The reason, Socrates," he said, "is, that I am not of age."

—Plato, Lysis.


The present state of the constitution is as follows: Citizenship is a right of children whose parents are both of them citizens. Registration as member of a deme or township takes place when eighteen years of age are completed. Before it takes place the townsmen of the deme find a verdict on oath, firstly, whether they believe the youth to be as old as the law requires, and if the verdict is in the negative he returns to the ranks of the boys. Secondly, the jury find whether he is freeborn and legitimate. If the verdict is against him he appeals to the Heliæa, and the municipality delegate five of their body to accuse him of illegitimacy. If he is found by the jurors to have been illegally proposed for the[97] register, the State sells him for a slave; if the judgment is given in his favor, he must be registered as one of the municipality. Those on the register are afterwards examined by the senate, and if anyone is found not to be eighteen years old, a fine is imposed on the municipality by which he was registered. After approbation, they are called epheboi, or cadets, and the parents of all who belong to a single tribe hold a meeting and, after being sworn, choose three men of the tribe above forty years of age, whom they believe to be of stainless character and fittest for the superintendence of youth, and out of these the commons in ecclesia select one superintendent for all of each tribe, and a governor of the whole body of youths from the general body of the Athenians. These take them in charge, and after visiting with them all the temples, march down to Piræus, where they garrison the north and south harbors, Munychia and Acte. The commons also elect two gymnastic trainers for them, and persons who teach them to fight in heavy armor, to draw the bow, to throw the javelin, and to handle artillery. Each of the ten commanders receives as pay a drachma [about 20 cts.] per diem, and each of the cadets four obols [about 13 cts.]. Each commander draws the pay of the cadets of his own tribe, buys with it the necessaries of life for the whole band (for they mess together by tribes), and purveys for all their wants. The first year is spent in military exercises. The second year the commons meet in the theatre and the cadets, after displaying before them their mastery in warlike evolutions, are each presented with a shield and spear, and become mounted patrols of the frontier and garrison the fortresses. They perform this service for two years, wearing the equestrian cloak and enjoying immunity from civic functions. During this period, to guard their military duties from interruption, they can be parties to no action either as defendant or plaintiff, except in suits respecting inheritance, or heiresses, or successions to hereditary priesthoods. When the three years are completed they fall into the ordinary body of citizens.

—Aristotle, Constitution of Athens (Poste's Version, with slight alterations).


That perfect harmony between power and worth at which the Athenian State aimed, was something not easily attained or preserved. As far back as its recorded history reaches, we find a struggle for[98] power going on between a party which possessed more power than its worth justified, and a party which possessed less; that is, between a party which, having once been worthy, strove to hold power in virtue of its past history, and one that claimed power in virtue of the worth into which it was growing: in a word, a struggle between declining aristocracy and growing democracy. To the party in power, of course, this seemed a rebellion against lawful authority and privilege, and it did its best to suppress it. Hence came the rigorous legislation of Draco; later the more conciliatory, less out-spoken, but equally aristocratic legislation of Solon; then the tyranny of Pisistratus, lasting as long as he could hold the balance of power between the contending parties; then the constitution of Clisthenes, with the breaking up of the old Athenian aristocratic system, the remodelling of the tribes, the degradation of the Areopagus, and the definite triumph of democracy. To complete the movement and, as it were, to consecrate it, came the Persian Wars, which mark the turning-point, the peripeteia, in Athenian history and education. Whatever efforts aristocracy makes to maintain itself after this, are made in the name of, and under cover of a zeal for, democracy.

The aristocratic Athenian State was based upon land-ownership, slavery, and the entire freedom of the land-owning class from all but family and State duties, from all need of engaging in productive industry. So long as the chief wealth of the State consisted in land and its produce, so long the population was divided into two classes, the rich and the poor, and[99] so long the former had little difficulty in keeping all power in its own hands. But no sooner did the growth of commerce throw wealth into the hands of a class that owned no land, and was not above engaging in industry, than this class began to claim a share in political power. There were now two wealthy classes, standing opposed to each other, a proud, conservative one, with "old wealth and worth," and a vain, radical one, with new wealth and wants, both bidding for the favor of the class that had little wealth, little worth, and many wants, and thus making it feel its importance. Such is the origin of Athenian democracy. It is the child of trade and productive industry. It owed its final consecration to the Persian Wars, and especially to the battle of Salamis, in which Athens was saved by her fleet, manned chiefly by marines (ἐπιβάται) from the lower classes, the upper classes, as we have seen, being trained only for land-service. Thus the battle of Salamis was not only a victory of Greece over Persia, but of foreign trade over home agriculture, of democracy over aristocracy.

The fact that the Athenian democracy owed its origin to trade determined, in great measure, its history and tendencies. One of its many results was that it opened Athens to the influx of foreign men, foreign ideas, and foreign habits, not to speak of foreign gods, all of which tended to break up the old self-contained, carefully organized life of the people. In no department were their effects sooner or more clearly felt than in that of education. From about the date of the battle of Salamis, when the youthful Ionian, Anaxagoras, came to Athens, a succession of[100] men of "advanced" ideas in art and science sought a field of action within her borders. Such a field, indeed, seemed purposely to have been left open for them by the State, which had provided no means of intellectual or moral education for its young citizens, after they passed under its care (see p. 87). Nothing was easier or more profitable than for these wise foreigners to constitute themselves public teachers, and fill the place which the State had left vacant. The State might occasionally object, and seek to punish one or another of them for corrupting of the youth by the promulgation of impious or otherwise dangerous ideas, as it did in the case of Anaxagoras; but their activity was too much in harmony with a tendency of the time,—a radical and individualistic tendency inseparable from democracy,—to be dispensed with altogether. Hence it was that, within a few years after the battle of Salamis, there flourished in Athens a class of men unknown before within her boundaries, a class of private professors, or "sophists," as they called themselves, who undertook to teach theoretically what the State had assumed could be taught only practically and by herself, viz., virtue and wisdom. Their ideas were novel, striking, and radical, hence congenial to a newly emancipated populace, vain of its recent achievements, and contemptuous of all that savored of the narrow, pious puritanism of the old time; their premises were magnificent, and their fees high enough to impose upon a class that always measures the value of a thing by what it is asked to pay for it; their method of teaching was such as to flatter the vanity, and secure the favor, of both pupils and[101] parents. No wonder that their success was immediate and their influence enormous.

From the days of Socrates to our own, 'sophist' has been a term of reproach, and not altogether unjustly so. Hegel, Grote, and Zeller have, indeed, shown that the sophists did not deserve all the obloquy which has attached itself to their name, inasmuch as they were neither much better nor much worse than any class of men who set up to teach new doctrines for money, and, as wise economists, suit supply to demand; nevertheless, it may be fairly enough said that they largely contributed to demoralize Athens, by encouraging irreverence for the very conceptions upon which her polity was built, and by pandering to some of the most selfish and individualistic tendencies of democracy. If it be said that they have their place in the history of human evolution, as the heralds of that higher view of life which allows the individual a sphere of activities and interests outside of that occupied by the State, this may at once and without difficulty be admitted, without our being thereby forced to regard them as noble men. The truth is, they represented, in practice and in theory, the spirit of individualism, which was then everywhere asserting itself against the spirit of nationalism or polity, and which perhaps had to assert itself in an exaggerated and destructive way, before the rightful claims of the two could be manifested and harmonized. It is the incorporation of this spirit of individualism into education that constitutes the "New Education."

This spirit, as manifested in the sophists and their teaching, directed itself against the old political spirit[102] in all the departments of life—in religion, in politics, in education. It discredited the old popular gods, upon loyalty to whom the existence of the State had been supposed to depend, substituting for them some crude fancy like Vortex, or some bald abstraction like Intellect. It encouraged the individual to seek his end in his own pleasure, and to regard the State as but a means to that end. It championed an education in which these ideas occupied a prominent place. What the sophists actually taught the ambitious young men who sought their instruction, was self-assertion, unscrupulousness, and a showy rhetoric, in whose triumphal procession facts, fancies, and falsehoods marched together in brilliant array. It is but fair to them to say that, in their endeavor to instruct young men in the art of specious oratory, they laid the foundations of the art of rhetoric and the science of grammar. So much, at least, the world owes to them.

Since it was to the young men, who, freed from the discipline of home, pedagogue, school, and palæstra, could be met with anywhere, in the street, the agora, the gymnasium, that the sophists directed their chief attention, it was of course these who first showed the effects of their teaching. But their influence, falling in, as it did, with the pronounced radical tendencies of the time, soon made itself felt in all grades of education, from the family to the university, in the form of an irreverent, flippant, conceited rationalism, before whose self-erected and self-corrupted tribunal every institution in heaven and earth was to be tried. In the schools this influence showed itself in various ways: (1) in an increased attention to literature, and[103] especially to the formal side of it, (2) in the tendency to substitute for the works of the old epic and lyric poets the works of more recent writers tinged with the new spirit, (3) in the introduction of new and complicated instruments and kinds of music, (4) in an increasing departure from the severe physical and moral discipline of the old days. We now, for the first time, hear of a teacher of literature, distinct from the music master, of teachers who possessed no copy of Homer (Alcibiades is said to have chastised such a one), of flutes, citharas, and the like in use in schools, of wildness and lewdness among boys of tender age. In the palæstra the new spirit showed itself in a tendency to substitute showy and unsystematic exercises for the vigorous and graded exercises of the older time, to sacrifice education to execution.

But, as already remarked, the new spirit showed itself most clearly and hurtfully in the higher education. The young men, instead of spending their time in vigorous physical exercise in the gymnasia and open country, began now to hang about the streets and public places, listening to sophistic discussions, and to attend the schools of the sophists, exercising their tongues more than any other part of their bodies. The effect of this soon showed itself in a decline of physical power, of endurance, courage, and manliness, and in a strong tendency to luxury and other physical sins. They now began to imagine for themselves a private life, very far from coincident with that demanded of a citizen, and to look upon the old citizen-life, and its ideals, sanctions, and duties, with contempt or pity, as something which they had learnt to rise above.[104] The glory and well-being of their country were no longer their chief object of ambition. The dry rot of individualism, which always seems to those affected by it an evidence of health and manly vigor, was corrupting their moral nature, and preparing the way for the destruction of the State. For it was but too natural that these young men, when they came to be members of the State, should neglect its lessons and claims, and, following the new teachings, live to themselves. Thus, just as the character of the "Old Education" of Athens showed itself in the behavior of her sons in the Persian Wars, so that of her "New Education" showed itself fifty years later in the Peloponnesian War, that long and disastrous struggle which wrecked Athens and Greece.

Yet Athens and her education were not allowed to go to ruin without a struggle. The aristocratic party long stuck to the old principles and tried to give them effect; but, failing to understand the new circumstances and to take account of them, it erred in the application of them, by seeking simply to restore the old conditions. Individuals also exerted their best efforts for the same end. Æschylus, who had fought at Marathon, and who, more than any other Greek, was endowed with the spirit of religion, interpreted the old mythology in an ethical sense, and in this form worked it into a series of dramas, whereby the history and institutions of the Greek people were shown to be due to a guiding Providence of inexorable justice, rewarding each man according to his works, abhorring proud homes "gilded with impurity of hands," and dwelling with the pure and righteous, though housed[105] in the meanest cot. Æschylus thus became, not only the father of Greek tragedy, but also the sublimest moral teacher Greece ever possessed. For moral grandeur there is but one work in all literature that can stand by the side of Æschylus' Oresteia, and that is the Divine Comedy. Yet Æschylus was driven from Athens on a charge of impiety, and died in exile.

But it was not the tragic drama alone that was inspired and made a preacher of righteousness: in the hands of Aristophanes, the comic drama exerted all its power for the same end. For over thirty years this inimitable humorist used the public theatre to lash the follies, and hold up to contempt the wretched leaders, of the Athenian populace, pointing out to his countrymen the abyss of destruction that was yawning before them. The world has never seen such earnest comedy, not even in the works of Molière or Beaumarchais. Yet it was all in vain. Long before his death, Aristophanes was forbidden to hold up to public scorn the degradation of his people.

Among the individual citizens who labored with all their might to bring back Athens to her old worth were two of very different character, endowments, and position, the one laboring in the world of action, the other in the world of thought. The first was Pericles, who, seeing that democracy was the order of the day, accepted it, and, by his personal character and position, strove to guide it to worthy ends. In order to encourage gymnastic exercises, particularly among the sons of the newer families, he built the Lyceum, in a grove sacred to Apollo, between Cynosarges and the city walls, as a gymnasium for them.[106] With a view to encouraging among them the study of music, he built an odeon, or music-hall, under the southeast end of the Acropolis. Both were magnificent structures. What he did towards the completion of the great theatre for the encouragement of dancing, we do not know; that this entered into his plan, there can hardly be any doubt. But Pericles was too wise a man to suppose that he could induce his pleasure-seeking countrymen to subject themselves to the old discipline, without offering them an object calculated to rouse their ambition and call forth their energy. This object was nothing less than a united Greece, with Athens as its capital. How hard he tried to make this object familiar to them, and to render Athens worthy of the place he desired her to occupy, is pathetically attested to this day by the Propylæa and the Parthenon. On the frieze of the latter is represented the solemn sacrifice that was to cement the union of the Hellenic people, and place it at the head of civilization. When degenerate Greece resisted all his efforts to make her become one peaceably, he tried to make her do so by force, and the Peloponnesian War, started on a mere frivolous pretext, was the result. He did not live long enough to learn the outcome of this desperate attempt to wake his countrymen to new moral and political life, and it was well. If he had, he might have been forced to recognize that he had been attempting an impossible task,—trying to erect a strong structure with rotten timber, to make a noble State out of ignoble, selfish men. Unfortunately, the example of his own private life, in which he openly defied one of the laws of the[107] State, and tried to make concubinage (ἑταίρησις) respectable, more than undid all the good he sought to accomplish. The truth is, Pericles was himself too deeply imbued with the three vices of his time—rationalism, self-indulgence, and love of show—to be able to see any true remedy for the evils that sprang from them. What was needed was not letters, music, gymnastics, dancing, or dream of empire, but something entirely different—a new moral inspiration and ideal.

This, the second of the men to whom reference has been made, Socrates, sought to supply. In the midst of self-indulgence, he lived a life of poverty and privation; in the midst of splendor and the worship of outward beauty, he pursued simplicity and took pleasure in his ugliness; in the midst of self-assertive rationalism and all-knowing sophistry, he professed ignorance and submission to the gods. The problem of how to restore the moral life of Athens and Greece presented itself to Socrates in this form: The old ethical social sanctions, divine and human, having, under the influence of rationalism and individualism, lost their power, where and how shall we find other sanctions to take their place? To answer this one question was the aim of Socrates' whole life. He was not long in seeing that any true answer must rest upon a comprehension of man's entire nature and relations, and that the sophists were able to impose upon his countrymen only because no such comprehension was theirs. He saw that the old moral life, based upon naïve tradition and prescription, sanctioned by gods of the imagination, would have to give place to a moral life resting[108] upon self-understanding and reflection. He accordingly adopted as his motto the command of the Delphic oracle, Know Thyself (γνῶθι σεαυτóν), and set to work with all his might to obey it.

He now, therefore, went to meet the sophists on their own ground and with their own methods, and he did this so well as to be considered by many, Aristophanes among them, as the best possible representative of the class. What is true is, that he was the first Athenian who undertook to do what the sophists had for some time considered their special function,—to impart a "higher education" to the youth and men of Athens. He went about the streets, shops, walks, schools, and gymnasia of the city, drawing all sorts of persons into conversation, and trying to elicit truth for himself and them (for he pretended to know nothing). He was never so pleased as when he met a real sophist, who professed to have knowledge, and never so much in his element as when, in the presence of a knot of young men, he could, by his ironical, subtle questions, force said sophist to admit that he too knew nothing. The fact was, Socrates, studying Heraclitus, had become convinced that the reason why men fell into error was because they did not know themselves, or their own thoughts, because what they called thoughts were mere opinions, mere fragments of thoughts. He concluded that, if men were ever to be redeemed from error, intellectual and moral, they must be made to think whole thoughts. Accordingly, he took the ordinary opinions of men and, by a series of well-directed questions, tried to bring out their implications, that is, the wholes of[109] which they were parts. Such is the Socratic or dialectic (= conversational) method. It does not pretend to impart any new knowledge, but merely, as Socrates said, to deliver the mind of the thoughts with which it is pregnant. And Socrates not only held that saving truth consisted of whole thoughts; he held also that all such thoughts were universally and necessarily true; that, while there might be many opinions about a thing, there could be but one truth, the same for all men, and therefore independent of any man. This was the exact opposite of what Protagoras the sophist had taught, the opposite of the gospel of individualism (see p. 93). Man is so far from being the measure of all things, that there is in all things a measure to which he must conform, if he is not to sink into error. This measure, this system of whole truths, implying an eternal mind to which it is present, and by which it is manifested in the world, is just what man arrives at, if he will but think out his thoughts in their completeness. In doing so, he at once learns the laws by which the universe is governed and finds a guide and sanction for his own conduct—a sanction no longer external and imposed by the State, but internal and imposed by the mind. A system like this involved a complete reversal of the old view of the relation between man and the State, and at the same time took the feet from under individualism. "It is true," said Socrates in effect, "that the individual, and not the State, is the source of all authority, the measure of all things; but he is so, not as individual, but as endowed with the universal reason by which the world, including the State, is gov[110]erned." This is the sum and substance of Socrates' teaching, this is what he believed to be true self-knowledge. This is the truth whose application to life begins a new epoch in human history, and separates the modern from the ancient world; this is the truth that, reiterated and vivified by Christianity, forms the very life of our life to-day.

In adopting this view, Socrates necessarily formed "a party by himself," a party which could hope for no sympathy from either of the other two into which his countrymen were divided. The party of tradition charged him with denying the gods of his country and corrupting her youth; the radical party hated him because he convicted its champions of vanity, superficiality, and ignorance. Between them, they compassed his death, and Athens learnt, only when it was too late, that she had slain her prophet. But Socrates, though slain, was not dead. His spirit lived on, and the work which he had begun grew and prospered. Yet it could not save Athens, except upon a condition which she neither would nor could accept, that of remodelling her polity and the life of her citizens in accordance with divine truth and justice. Indeed, though he discovered a great truth, Socrates did not present it in a form in which it could be accepted under the given conditions. He himself even did not by any means see all the stupendous implications of his own principle, which, in fact, was nothing less than the ground of all true ethics, all liberty, and all science. It is doubtful whether any one sees them now, and certain that they have been nowhere realized. Still his truth and his life were not without their im[111]mediate effect upon Athens and Athenian education. Men, working in his spirit, and inspired with his truth, more or less clearly understood, almost immediately replaced the sophists in Athens, and drew the attention of her citizens, old and young, to the serious search for truth. In fact, from this time on, the intellectual tendency began to prevail over the gymnastic and musical, and this continued until, finally, it absorbed the whole life of the people, and Athens, from being a university-State, became a State-university. Such it was in the days of Cicero, Paul, Plutarch, Lucian, and Proclus. That this one-sided tendency was fatal to the political life of Athens, and therefore, in some degree, to its moral life, is clear enough; and, though we cannot hold Socrates personally responsible for this result, we must still admit that it was one which flowed from his system of thought. Personally, indeed, Socrates was a moral hero, and "five righteous" men like him, had they appeared, would have gone far to save Athens; but this very heroism, this inborn enthusiasm for righteousness, blinded him so far as to make him believe that men had only to know the right in order to be ready to follow it. Hence that exaggerated importance attached to right knowing, and that comparative neglect of right feeling and right doing, which in the sequel proved so paralyzing. Hence the failure of Socrates' teaching to stem the tide of corruption in Athens, and restore her people to heroism and worth.

Socrates left behind him many disciples, some of whom distinguished themselves in practical ways,[112] others as founders of philosophic schools, emphasizing different sides of his teaching. He was but a few years in his grave when two of these were teaching regularly in the two old gymnasia of Athens. Plato, a full-blooded Athenian, was teaching in the Academy the intellectual and moral theories of his master, while Antisthenes, a half-breed (his mother being a Thracian), was inculcating the lesson of his heroic life in Cynosarges. Their followers were called, respectively, Academics and Cynics. Thus, by these two men, was the higher education for the first time introduced into the public institutions of Athens.

Socrates' aim, as we have seen, had been purely a moral one, and this fact was not lost sight of by his immediate followers. The chief question with them all was still: How can the people be brought back to moral life? But, thanks partly to the vagueness in which he had left the details of his doctrine, they were divided with respect to the means whereby this was to be accomplished. One party, best represented by Plato, and following most closely in the footsteps of the master, held that, man being essentially a social being, and morality a relation in society, it was only in and through a social order, a State, that virtue could be realized. Another party, represented by Antisthenes, maintained that virtue was a purely personal matter, and that the wise man stood high above any and all social institutions. These two views maintained themselves, side by side, in nearly all subsequent Greek thought, and at last found expression in the State and Church of the Christian world.

Two of Socrates' followers, believers in institu[113]tional morality, left behind them treatises which have come down to us, giving their views as to the manner in which virtue might be cultivated. These are the practical Xenophon and the theoretic Plato, both men of pure Athenian stock. Nothing will better enable us to comprehend the evils of the "New Education" than a consideration of the means by which these worthy men proposed to remedy them. Both are idealists and Utopians; but the former is conservative and reactionary, while the latter is speculative and progressive. Both are aiming at one thing—a virtuous and happy State, to replace the vicious and wretched one in which they found their lot cast; but they differed in their views regarding the nature of such a State, and the means of realizing it.
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Re: Aristotle and Ancient Educational Ideals, by Thomas Davi

Postby admin » Fri Apr 10, 2020 4:35 am

CHAPTER II: XENOPHON

Never a good is the rule of the many; let one be the ruler.

—Homer.


Wealth without Worth is no harmless housemate.

—Sappho.


One to me is ten thousand, if he be best.

All the Ephesians, from youth up, ought to be hanged and the State left to the boys, because they cast out Hermodorus, the worthiest man amongst them, saying: 'No one of us shall be worthiest, else let him be so elsewhere and among others.'

—Heraclitus.


Reflecting once that, of the very small states, Sparta appeared to be the most powerful and the most renowned in Greece, I began to wonder in what way this had come about. But when I reflected upon the manners of the Spartans, I ceased to wonder. As to Lycurgus, who drew up for them the laws, by obedience to which they have prospered, I admire him and hold him to be, in the highest degree, a wise man. For he, instead of imitating other states, reached conclusions opposite to those of most, and thereby rendered his country conspicuous for prosperity.

—Xenophon.


Xenophon was in no sense a philosopher or a practical teacher, but he was a man of sterling worth, of knightly courage, of wide and varied experience, of strong sagacity, and of genial disposition, a keen observer, and a charming writer. He was a true old Athenian puritan, broadened and softened by study and contact with the world. He hated democracy so cordially that he would not live in Athens to witness its vulgarity and disorder; but he loved his coun[115]try, and desired to see its people restored to their ancient worth. He believed that this could be done only by some great, royal personality, like Lycurgus or Cyrus, enforcing a rigid discipline, and once more reducing the man to the citizen. Unwilling, probably, to hold up hated Sparta as a model to his beaten and smarting countrymen, he laid the scene of his pedagogical romance in far-off Persia.

In the Education of Cyrus (Κύρου παιδεία) we have Xenophon's scheme for a perfect education. Despite the scene in which it is laid, it is purely Hellenic, made up of Athenian and Spartan elements in about equal proportions. For this reason also it has a special interest for us. As the portion of the treatise dealing directly with public education is brief, we can hardly do better than transcribe it in a translation.

"Cyrus is still celebrated in legend and song by the barbarians as a man of extraordinary personal beauty, and as of a most gentle, studious, and honor-loving disposition, which made him ready to undergo any labor, and brave any danger, for the sake of praise. Such is the account that has been handed down of his appearance and disposition. He was, of course, educated in accordance with the laws of the Persians. These laws seem to begin their efforts for the public weal at a different point from those of most other states; for most states, after allowing parents to educate their children as they please, and the older people even to spend their time according to their own preference, lay down such laws as: Thou shalt not steal, Thou shalt not rob, Thou shalt not commit burglary, Thou shalt not commit assault, Thou shalt not commit[116] adultery, Thou shalt not disobey a magistrate, etc.; and if any one transgresses any of these laws, they inflict punishment on him. The Persian laws, on the contrary, provide beforehand that the citizens shall never, from the very first, have any disposition to commit a wicked or base act. And they do so in this way. They have what they call a Freemen's Square, where the royal palace and the other public buildings stand. From this square are removed all wares and chafferers, with their cries and vulgarities, to another place, so that their din and disorder may not interfere with the decorum of the cultivated class. This square in the neighborhood of the public buildings is divided into four parts, one for boys, one for youths (ἔφηβοι), one for mature men, and one for men beyond the military age. The hour when these shall appear in their places is settled by law. The boys and mature men come at daybreak, the older men when they think fit, except on the special days when they are bound to appear. The youths pass the night by the public buildings in light armor, only those who are married being excused. These are not hunted up, unless they have been ordered beforehand to appear; but it is not thought decent to be often absent. Each of these divisions is under the charge of twelve governors, one from each of the twelve tribes into which the Persians are divided. The governors of the boys are chosen from among the elderly men, with special view to their fitness for making the most of boys, while those of the youths are chosen from among the mature men upon a similar principle. Those of the mature men are selected with a view to their ability[117] to hold these to their regular duties, and to the special commands of the supreme authority. Even the old men have presidents appointed over them, who see that they perform their duty. What the duties of each are we shall now state, in order to show just how provision is made for securing the highest worth on the part of the citizens.

"First, then, the boys, when they go to school, spend their time in learning justice. They say they go for that purpose, just as our boys go to learn letters. Their governors spend the greater part of the day in acting as judges among them. It is needless to say that boys, as well as men, bring charges against each other of theft and robbery and violence and deceit and slander, and similar things, and those whom the judges find guilty of any of these they punish. But they also punish those whom they find bringing false charges. They pronounce judgment likewise on a charge which, more than anything else, makes men hate each other, and for which they are judged less than for any other, namely, ingratitude. If the judges find a boy in a position to return a favor and not doing it, they punish him severely, believing that persons who are ungrateful will, more than any others, be undutiful to the gods, to parents, country, and friends. It is generally held that ingratitude, more than aught else, leads to irreverence, and we need not add that it is the prime mover in every form of baseness. They teach the boys also self-denial, and these are greatly aided in learning this virtue from seeing it daily practised by their elders. Another thing they teach them is obedience to those placed in authority over[118] them; and they are greatly aided in learning this, by seeing their elders strictly obeying their governors. Another thing yet which they teach them is self-discipline in matters of eating and drinking; and they are greatly aided in this by seeing that their elders never absent themselves for the purpose of eating, until they are permitted to do so by their governors, as well as by the fact that they (the boys) do not eat with their mothers, but with their teachers, and at a signal from their governors. As food, they bring with them from home bread, as a relish, nasturtium, and in order to drink, if they are thirsty, they bring an earthen cup to draw water from the river with. In addition to all these things, the boys learn to shoot with the bow and to throw the javelin. Up to the age of sixteen or seventeen years, these are the studies in which the boys engage; after that they are transferred to the class of cadets (ἔφηβοι).

"These cadets spend their time in this way: For ten years from the time when they graduate from the boys' class, they sleep, as we have already said, in the precincts of the public buildings, acting at once as a guard to the city and practising self-denial. It is generally agreed, indeed, that this is the age which especially requires attention. During the day they are at the disposal of their governors, and ready to perform any public service required. If no such service is demanded, they remain in the neighborhood of the public buildings. When the king goes out to hunt, which he does many times a month, he takes with him one-half of the tribes, and leaves the other behind. Those youths who accompany him must carry with[119] them bows and, in a sheath alongside their quivers, a bill or scimitar; also a light shield, and two javelins apiece, one to throw, the other to use, if necessary, at close quarters. For this reason they make hunting a matter of public concern, and the king, as in war, acts as their leader, hunts himself, and sees that the others hunt, the Persians being of opinion that this is the best of all preparations for war. And, indeed, it accustoms them to rise early, and to bear heat and cold; it affords them exercise in marching and running, and compels them to use their bows or their javelins upon wild animals, wherever they happen to come upon them. They are often forced, moreover, to sharpen their courage, when they find themselves face to face with some powerful animal. They must, of course, wound the one that comes to close quarters, and hold at bay the one that attacks them. Hence it is difficult to find in war anything that is absent from the chase. When they go out to hunt, the young men, of course, take with them a larger luncheon than the boys are allowed to have; but this is the only difference between the two. And while they are hunting, they sometimes do not lunch at all; but, if they have to remain beyond their time on account of some game, or otherwise, if they wish to prolong the chase, they make a dinner of this lunch, and on the following day continue the hunt till dinner-time, counting the two days one, because they consume only one day's food. And they do this for the sake of practice, so that, if ever they should run short of provisions in war, they may be able to do the same thing. These youths have as a relish what game they capture in the chase, other[120]wise they have nasturtium. And if any one thinks that they eat without pleasure, when they have only nasturtium with their food, or drink without pleasure, when they drink water, let him remember how sweet barley-cake and wheaten bread are when he is hungry, and how sweet water is when he is thirsty. The tribes that remain behind, when the king goes hunting, spend their time in the same studies which they pursued as boys, including shooting and javelin-casting, and in these continual contests are going on. There are likewise public exhibitions in them, at which prizes are offered; and whichever tribe contains most young men exceptionally proficient, manly, and steady, is commended by the citizens, who likewise honor, not only their present governor, but also the governor who had charge of them as boys. The young men who are left behind are also employed by the authorities, if any such service is required as manning a guard-house, tracking out malefactors, running down robbers, or anything demanding strength and swiftness. Such are the studies of the young men. And when they have passed ten years in these, they graduate into the class of mature men.

"From the date of this graduation, they spend five and twenty years more in the following manner: In the first place, like the young men, they place themselves at the disposal of the authorities for any public service requiring at once sagacity and unimpaired strength. If they are required to take the field in war, men proficient as they are go armed, no longer with bows and javelins, but with what are called hand-to-hand weapons, breast-plates, shields in their left[121] hands, such as we see in pictures of the Persians, and a sword or bill in their right. And all the officials are drawn from this class, except the boys' teachers. And when they have passed twenty-five years in this class, they are something more than fifty years of age. At that age they graduate into the class of elders, as, indeed, they are called.

"These elders no longer serve in war outside their own country, but, remaining at home, act as judges in public and private cases. They do so even in capital cases. They likewise choose all the officials, and if any person belonging to either of the classes of young and mature men neglects any of his lawful duties, the governor of his tribe, or any one else who pleases, may report him to the elders, and these, if they find the fact to be as reported, expel him from his tribe, and he who is expelled remains dishonored all his life.

"To give a clearer notion of the polity of the Persians as a whole, I will retrace my steps a little. After what has been said, this may be done in a very few words: The Persians, then, are said to number about one hundred and twenty thousand. Of these, none is excluded by law from honors or offices; but all Persians are allowed to send their sons to the public schools of justice. However, it is only those who are able to maintain their sons without employment that send them there: the rest do not. On the other hand, those that are educated by the public teachers are permitted to spend their youth among the ephēboi, while those who have not completed this education are not. Again those that pass their youth[122] among the ephēboi, and come up to the legal requirements, are allowed to graduate into the class of mature men, and to participate in honors and offices; whereas those who do not pass through the grade of the ephēboi do not rise to the class of mature men. Finally, those who complete the curriculum of the mature men without reproach, pass into the class of elders. Thus it is that this class of elders is composed of men who have passed through all the grades of culture. Such is the polity of the Persians, and such is the system of training whereby they endeavor to secure the highest worth."

This Utopian scheme of education has a peculiar interest, because it is nothing more or less than the old ideal of Greek education become fully conscious of itself, under the influence of the new ideal. Let us call attention to the main points of it. (1) The education here set forth is purely political: men are regarded simply and solely as citizens; all honors are civic honors. (2) No provision is made for the education of women, their range of activity being entirely confined to the family. (3) Distinction is made to rest upon education and conduct. (4) The poorer classes of the population, though not legally excluded from education, position, and power, are virtually excluded by their poverty, so that the government is altogether in the hands of the rich, and is, in fact, an aristocracy, while pretending to be a democracy: hence, (5) Social distinctions are distinctions of worth, which is just the Greek ideal.

There is, however, one point in the scheme which shows that it is reactionary, directed against prevail[123]ing tendencies. Not one word is said of the intellectual side of education, of music or letters. It is evident that Xenophon, himself a man of no mean literary attainments, clearly saw the dangers to Greek life and liberty involved in that exaggerated devotion to literary and intellectual pursuits which followed the teaching of the sophists and Socrates, and that, in order to check this perilous tendency, he drew up a scheme of education from which intellectual and literary pursuits are altogether excluded, in which justice takes the place of letters, and music is not mentioned.

This suggests a curious inquiry in respect to his Memoirs of Socrates. This work has generally been regarded as giving us a more correct notion of the real, living Socrates than the manifestly idealizing works of Plato. But was not Xenophon, who could not fail to see the future power of Socrates' influence, as anxious as Plato to claim the prophet as the champion of his own views, and does not this fact determine the whole character of his work? Is it not a romance, in the same sense that the Cyropædia is, with only this difference, that the facts of Socrates' life, being fairly well known to those for whom Xenophon was writing, could not be treated with the same freedom and disregard as those of Cyrus' life?

Before we part with Xenophon, we must call attention to another treatise of his, in which he deals with a subject that was then pressing for consideration—the education of women. While, as we have seen, the Æolian states and even Dorian Sparta provided, in some degree, for women's education, Athens appar[124]ently, conceiving that woman had no duties outside of the family, left her education entirely to the care of that institution. The conservative Xenophon does not depart from this view; but, seeing the moral evils that were springing from the neglect of women and their inability to be, in any sense, companions to their cultured, or over-cultured, husbands, he lays down in his Œconomics a scheme for the education of the young wife by her husband. As this affords us an admirable insight into the lives of Athenian girls and women, better, indeed, than can be found elsewhere, we cannot do better than transcribe the first part of it. It takes the form of a conversation between Socrates and a young husband, named Ischomachus (Strong Fighter), and is reported by the former. Socrates tells how, seeing Ischomachus sitting at leisure in a certain portico, he entered into conversation with him, paid him an acceptable compliment, and inquired how he came to be nearly always busy out of doors, seeing that he evidently spent little time in the house. Ischomachus replies:—

"'As to your inquiry, Socrates, it is true that I never remain indoors. Nor need I; for my wife is fully able by herself to manage everything in the house.' 'This again, Ischomachus,' said I, 'is something that I should like to ask you about, whether it was you who taught your wife to be a good wife, or whether she knew all her household duties when you received her from her father and mother.' 'Well, Socrates,' said he, 'what do you suppose she knew when I took her, since she was hardly fifteen when she came to me, and, during the whole of her life[125] before that, special care had been taken that she should see, hear, and ask as little as possible. Indeed, don't you think I ought to have been satisfied if, when she came to me, she knew nothing but how to take wool and turn it into a garment, and had seen nothing but how tasks in spinning are assigned to maids? As regards matters connected with eating and drinking, of course she was extremely well educated when she came, and this seems to me the chief education, whether for a man or a woman.' 'In all other matters, Ischomachus,' said I, 'you yourself instructed your wife, so as to make her an excellent housewife.' 'To be sure,' said he, 'but not until I had first sacrificed, and prayed that I might succeed in teaching her, and she might succeed in learning, what was best for both of us.' 'Then,' said I, 'your wife took part in your sacrifice and in these prayers, did she not?' 'Certainly she did,' said Ischomachus, 'and solemnly promised to the gods that she would be what she ought to be, and showed every evidence of a disposition not to neglect what was taught her.' 'But do, I beseech you, Ischomachus, explain to me,' said I, 'what was the first thing you set about teaching her? I shall be more interested in hearing you tell that, than if you told me all about the finest gymnastic or equestrian exhibition.' And Ischomachus replied: 'What should I teach her? As soon as she could be handled, and was tame enough to converse, I spoke to her in some such way as this: Tell me, my dear, have you ever considered why I took you as my wife, and why your parents gave you to me? That it was not because I could not find any one else to share my[126] bed, you know as well as I. No, but because I was anxious to find for myself, and your parents were anxious to find for you, the most suitable partner in home and offspring, I selected you, and your parents, it seems, selected me, out of all possible matches. If, then, God shall ever bless us with children, then we will take the greatest care of them, and try to give them the best possible education; for it will prove a blessing to both of us to have the very best of helpers and supports in our old age. But at present we have this as our common home. And all that I have, I pass over to the common stock, and all that you have brought with you, you have added to the same. Nor must we begin to count which of us has contributed the larger number of things, but must realize that whichever of us is the better partner contributes the more valuable things. Then, Socrates, my wife replied, and said: In what way can I coöperate with you? What power have I? Everything rests with you. My mother told me that my only duty was to be dutiful. Assuredly, my dear, said I, and my father told me the same thing. But it is surely the duty of a dutiful husband and a dutiful wife to act so that what they have may be improved to the utmost, and by every fair and lawful means increased to the utmost. And what do you find, said my wife, that I can do towards helping you to build up our house? Dear me! said I, whatever things the gods have endowed you with the power to do, and the law permits, try to do these to the best of your ability. And what are these? said she. It strikes me, said I, that they are by no means the least important[127] things, unless it be true that in the hive the queen-bee is entrusted with the least important functions. Indeed, it seems to me, my dear, I continued, that the very gods have yoked together this couple called male and female with a very definite purpose, viz. to be the source of the greatest mutual good to the yoke-fellows. In the first place, this union exists in order that living species may not die out, but be preserved by propagation; in the second, the partners in this union, at least in the case of human beings, obtain through it the supports of their old age. Moreover, human beings do not live, like animals, in the open air, but obviously require roofs. And I am sure, people who are going to have anything to bring under a roof must have some one to do outdoor duties; for, you see, ploughing, sowing, planting, herding, are all outdoor employments, and it is from them that we obtain all our supplies. On the other hand, when the supplies have all been brought under cover, there is needed some one to take care of them, and to perform those duties which must be done indoors. Among these are the rearing of children and the preparation of food from the produce of the earth; likewise the making of cloth out of wool. And, since both these classes of duties, the outdoor and the indoor, require labor and care, it seems to me, I said, that God has constructed the nature of woman with a special view to indoor employments and cares, and that of man with a view to outdoor employments and cares. For he has made both the body and the soul of the man better able than those of the woman to bear cold, heat, travelling, military service, and so has[128] assigned to him the outdoor employments. And, since he has made the body of woman less able to endure these things, he seems to me to have assigned to her the indoor employments. Considering, moreover, that he had made it woman's nature and duty to nourish young children, he imparted to her a greater love for babies than he did to man. And, inasmuch as he had made it part of woman's duty to take care of the income of the family, God, knowing that for care-taking the soul is none the worse for being ready to fear, bestowed upon woman a greater share of fear than upon a man. On the other hand, knowing that he who attends to the outdoor employments will have to protect the family from wrong-doers, he endowed him with a greater share of courage. And, since both have to give and receive, he divided memory and carefulness between them, so that it would be difficult to determine which of the sexes, the male or the female, is the better equipped with these. And the necessary self-denial he divided between them, and made a decree that, whichever of the two, the husband or the wife, was the superior, should be rewarded with the larger share of this blessing. And just because the nature of man and the nature of woman are not both equally fitted for all tasks, the two are the more dependent upon each other, and their union is the more beneficial to them, because the one is able to supply what the other lacks. And now, said I, my dear, that we know the duties which God has assigned to us respectively, it becomes each of us to do our best, in order to perform these duties. And the law, I continued, coincides with the divine[129] intention, and unites man and woman. And, just as God has made them partners in offspring, so the law makes them partners in the household. And the law sets its approval upon that difference of function which God has signified by the difference of ability which marks the sexes. For it is more respectable for a woman to remain indoors than to spend her time out of doors, and less respectable for a man to remain indoors than to attend to outdoor concerns. And, if any one acts in a manner at variance with this divine ordination, it may be that his transgression does not escape the notice of the gods, and that he is punished for neglecting his own duties or performing those of his wife. It appears to me, said I, that the queen-bee also performs duties that are assigned to her by God. And what duties, said my wife, does the queen-bee perform, that have any resemblance to those incumbent upon me? This, said I, that she remains in the hive and does not allow the other bees to be idle, but sends out those that have to work to their business, and knows and receives what each brings in, and takes care of it till it is needed for use. And when the time for using comes, she distributes to each her just share. Besides this, she attends to the construction of the honey-combs that goes on indoors, and sees that it is done properly and rapidly, and carefully sees that the young swarm is properly reared. And when it is old enough, and the young bees are fit for work, she sends them out, as a colony, under the leadership of one of the old ones. And will it be my duty, said my wife, to do these things? Exactly so, said I, it will be your duty to remain[130] indoors, to send out together to their work those whose duties lie out of doors, and to superintend those who have to work indoors, to receive whatever is brought in, to dispense whatever has to be paid out, while the necessary surplus you must provide for, and take care that the year's allowance be not spent in a month. When wool is brought in to you, you must see that it is turned into cloth; and when dried grain comes, that it is properly prepared for food. There is, however, one of your duties, said I, that will perhaps seem somewhat disagreeable to you. Whenever any one of the slaves is sick, you will have to see that he is properly nursed, no matter who he is. Indeed, said my wife, that will be a most pleasant duty, if those who have been carefully nursed are going to be grateful and kindlier than they were before. And I,' said Ischomachus, 'admiring her answer, continued: Don't you suppose, my dear, that by such examples of care on the part of the queen of the hive the bees are so disposed to her that, when she leaves, none of them are willing to remain behind, but all follow her? And my wife replied: I should be surprised if the duties of headship did not fall to you rather than to me. For my guardianship and disposal of things in the house would be ridiculous, unless you saw to it that something was brought in from without. And my bringing-in would be ridiculous, said I, if there were no one to take care of what I brought? Don't you see, I said, how those who pour water into a leaky barrel, as the expression is, are pitied, as wasting their labour? And indeed, said my wife, they are to be pitied, if they do that. There are other special[131] duties, said I, that are sure to become pleasant to you; for example, when you take a raw hand at weaving and turn her into an adept, and so double her value to you, or when you take a raw hand at managing and waiting and make her capable, reliable, and serviceable, so that she acquires untold value, or when you have it in your power to reward those male slaves that are dutiful and useful to your family, or to punish one who proves the opposite of this. But the pleasantest thing of all will be, if you prove superior to me, and make me your knight, and if you need not fear that, as you advance in years, you will forfeit respect in the house, but are sure that, as you grow older, the better a partner you are to me, and the better a mother to the children, the more highly you will be respected in the house. For all that is fair and good, said I, increases for men, as life advances, not through beauties, but through virtues. Such, Socrates, to the best of my recollection, was the first conversation I had with my wife.'"

Ischomachus goes on and tells how, in subsequent conversations, he taught his wife the value of order, "how to have a place for everything, and everything in its place," how to train a servant, and how to make herself attractive without the use of cosmetics or fine clothes. But enough has been quoted to show what the ideal family relation among the Athenians was, and what education was thought fitting for girls and women. Just as the man was merged in the citizen, so the woman was merged in the housewife, and they each received the education and training demanded by their respective duties. If Athenian[132] husbands had all been like Ischomachus, it is clear that the lives of wives might have been very happy and useful, and that harmony might have reigned in the family. But, unfortunately, that was not very often the case. Wives, being neglected, became lazy, wasteful, self-indulgent, shrewish, and useless, while their husbands, finding them so, sought in immoral relations with brilliant and cultivated hetæræ, or in worse relations still, a coarse substitute for that satisfaction which they ought to have sought and found in their own homes. Thus there grew up a condition of things which could not fail to sap the moral foundations of society, and which made thoughtful men turn their attention to the question of woman's education and sphere of duty.
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Re: Aristotle and Ancient Educational Ideals, by Thomas Davi

Postby admin » Fri Apr 10, 2020 4:37 am

CHAPTER III: PLATO

All human laws are nourished by the one divine law; for it prevaileth as far as it listeth, and sufficeth for all and surviveth all.

—Heraclitus.


Though reason is universal, the mass of men live as if they had each a private wisdom of his own.

—Id.


Antigone. ... But him will I inter;
And sweet 'twill be to die in such a deed,
And sweet will be my rest with him, the sweet,
When I have righteously offended here.
For longer time, methinks, have I to please
The dwellers in yon world than those in this;
For I shall rest forever there. But thou,
Dishonor still what's honored of the gods.

—Sophocles, Antigone.


The circle that gathered round Isaiah and his household in these evil days, holding themselves apart from their countrymen, treasuring the word of revelation, and waiting for Jehovah, were indeed, as Isaiah describes them, "signs and tokens in Israel from Jehovah of hosts that dwelleth in Mount Zion." The formation of this little community was a new thing in the history of religion. Till then no one had dreamed of a fellowship of faith dissociated from all national forms, maintained without the exercise of ritual services, bound together by faith in the divine word alone. It was the birth of a new era in the Old Testament religion, for it was the birth of the conception of the Church, the first step in the emancipation of spiritual religion from the forms of political life,—a step not less significant that all its consequences were not seen till centuries had passed away.

—W. Robertson Smith, Prophets of Israel.


Still at the prophets' feet the nations sit.

—Lowell.


That which is to be known I shall declare, knowing which a man attains immortality—the beginningless Supreme Brahma that is said to be neither Aught nor Naught.

—Bhagavad Gîtâ.


The only Metaphysics which really and immediately sustains Ethics is one which is itself primarily ethical, and made of the staff of Ethics.

—Schopenhauer.


In answer to the burning question, How can Athens be brought back to moral life and strength? Socrates had answered, "By finding a new moral sanction." He had even gone further, and said: "This sanction is to be found in correct thinking, in thinking whole thoughts, which, because they are whole, are absolutely true, being the very principles according to which God governs the world." This is, obviously, a mere formal answer. If it was to be of any real service, three further questions had to be answered: (1) How can whole thoughts be reached? (2) What do they prove to be when they are reached? (3) How can they be applied to the moral reorganization of human life? Plato's philosophy is but an attempt to answer these questions. It therefore naturally falls into three divisions, (1) Dialectics, including Logic and Theory of Knowledge, (2) Theoretics, including Metaphysics and Physics, (3) Practics, including Ethics and Politics.

It is obvious that any attempt to reform society on Socratic principles must proceed, not from society itself, but from some person or persons in whom these principles are realized, and who act upon it from without. These persons will be the philosophers or, rather, the sages. Two distinct questions, therefore, present themselves at the outset: (1) How does a man[135] become a sage? (2) How can the sage organize human life, and secure a succession of sages to continue his work after him? To the first of these questions, dialectics gives the answer; to the second, practics; while theoretics exhibits to us at once the origin and the end, that is, the meaning, of all existence, the human included. In the teaching of Plato we find, for the first time recognized and exhibited, the extra-civic or super-civic man, the man who is not a mere fragment of a social whole, completely subordinated to it, but who, standing above society, moulds it in accordance with ideas derived from a higher source. Forecasts of this man, indeed, we find in all Greek literature from Homer down,—in Heraclitus, Sophocles, etc., and especially, as we have seen, in Pythagoras;—but it is now for the first time that he finds full expression, and tries to play a conscious part. In him we have the promise of the future Church.

But to return to the first of our two questions, How does a man become a sage? We found the answer to be, By the dialectic method. Of this, however, not all men have the inclination to avail themselves, but only a chosen few, to whom the gods have granted the inspiration of Love (ἔρως)—a longing akin to madness (μανία), kindled by physical beauty, but tending to the Supreme Good. This good, as we shall see, consists in the vision (θεωρία) of eternal truth, of being, as it is. The few men who are blessed with this love are the divinely appointed reformers and guides of mankind, the well-being of which depends upon submission to them. The dialectic method is the process by which the inspired mind rises from the beauty of[136] physical things, which are always particulars, to the beauty of spiritual things, which are always universals, and finally to the beauty of the Supreme Good, which is The Universal. The man who has reached this last, and who sees its relation to all other universals, so that they form together a correlated whole, sees all truth, and is the sage. What we call universals Plato called "ideas" (ἰδέαι = forms or species). These ideas he regards as genera, as numbers, as active powers, and as substances, the highest of which is God.

Two things are especially notable in connection with this theory: (1) that it involves that Oriental ascetic view of life which makes men turn away from the sensible world, and seek their end and happiness in the colorless world of thought; (2) that it suggests a view of the nature of God which comes perilously near to Oriental pantheism. Plato, indeed, nowhere denies personality of God; but neither does he affirm it, and he certainly leaves the impression that the Supreme Being is a force acting according to a numerical ratio or law. It would be difficult to overestimate the influence of these two views upon the subsequent course of Greek education and life. The former suggested to the super-civic man a sphere of activity which he could flatter himself was superior to the civic, viz. a sphere of contemplation; while the second, by blurring, or rather ignoring, the essential elements of personality in God, viz. consciousness, choice, and will, left no place for a truly religious or moral life. This explains why Platonism, while it has inspired no great civic movement, has played such a determining part in[137] ecclesiasticism, and why, nevertheless, the Church for ages was compelled to fight the tendencies of it, which it did in great measure under the ægis of Plato's stern critic, Aristotle.

We are now ready to take up our second question: How can the sage organize human life, and secure a succession of sages to continue his work after him? Plato has given two widely different answers to this question, in his two most extensive works, (1) the Republic, written in his earlier life, when he was under the influence of Heraclitus, Parmenides, and Socrates, and stood in a negative attitude toward the real world of history, (2) the Laws, written toward the end of his life, when he became reconciled, in part at least, to the real world and its traditional beliefs, and found satisfaction and inspiration in the teachings of Pythagoras. His change of allegiance is shown by the fact that in the Laws, and in them alone, Socrates does not appear as a character. We shall speak first of the Republic, and then point out wherein the Laws differs from it.

When Plato wrote his Republic, he was deeply impressed with the evils and dangers of the social order in which he lived. This impression, which was that of every serious man of the time, had in his case probably been deepened by the teaching and the tragic death of Socrates. The dangers were, obviously, the demoralization of Athenian men and women, and the consequent weakening and dissolution of the social bonds. The evils, as he saw them, were (1) the defective education of children, (2) the neglect of women, (3) the general disorganization of the State through[138] individualism, which placed power in the hands of ignorance and rapacity, instead of in those of wisdom and worth. The Republic is a scheme for removing these evils and averting the consequent dangers. It is the Platonic sage's recipe for the healing of society, and it is but fair to say that, of all the Utopian and æsthetic schemes ever proposed for this end, it is incomparably the best. It proposes nothing less than the complete transformation of society, without offering any hint as to how a selfish and degraded people is to be induced to submit thereto. In the transformed society, the State is all in all; the family is abolished; women are emancipated and share in the education and duties of men; the State attends to the procreation and education of children; private property is forbidden. The State is but the individual writ large, and the individual has three faculties, in the proper development and coördination of which consists his well-being: the same, therefore, must be true of the State. These faculties are (1) intellect or reason, (λογιστικόν, λόγος, νοῦς, etc.), (2) spirit or courage (θυμός, θυμοειδές), (3) desire or appetite (ἐπιθυμία, ἐπιθυμετικόν, φιλοχρήματον). The first resides in the head, the second in the heart, the third in the abdomen. The first is peculiar to man, the second he shares with the animals, and the third with both animals and plants. The proper relation of these faculties exists when reason, with clear insight, rules the whole man (Prudence); when spirit takes its directions from reason in its attitude toward pleasure and pain (Fortitude); when spirit and appetite together come to an understanding with reason as to when the one, and when[139] the other, shall act (Temperance); and, finally, when each of the three strictly confines itself to its proper function (Justice). Thus we obtain the four "cardinal virtues." As existing in the individual, they are relations between his own faculties. It is only in the State that they are relations between the individual and his fellows. Rather we ought to say, they are relations between different classes of society; for society is divided into three classes, marked by the predominance of one or other of the three faculties of the soul. First, there is the intelligent class,—the philosophers or sages; second, the spirited class,—the military men or soldiers; third, the covetous class,—men devoted to industry, trade, and money-making. The well-being of the State, as of the individual, is secure only when the relations between these classes are the four cardinal virtues; when the sages rule, and the soldiers and money-makers accept this rule, and when each class strictly confines itself to its own function, so, for example, that the sages do not attempt to fight, the soldiers to make money, or the money-makers to fight or rule. In the Platonic ideal State, accordingly, the three classes dwell apart and have distinct functions. All the power is in the hands of the philosophers, who dwell in lofty isolation, devoted to the contemplation of divine ideas, and descending only through grace to mingle with human affairs, as teachers and absolute rulers, ruling without laws. Their will is enforced by the military class, composed of both sexes, which lives outside the city, devoting itself to physical exercises and the defence of the State. These two classes together con[140]stitute the guardians (φύλακες) of the State, and stand to each other in the relation of head and hand. They produce nothing, own nothing, live sparingly, and, indeed, cherish a sovereign contempt for all producing and owning, as well as for those who produce and own. They find their satisfaction in the performance of their functions, and the maintenance of virtue in the State. What small amount of material good they require is supplied to them by the industrial class, which they protect in the enjoyment of the only good it strives after or can appreciate, the good of the appetites. This class, of course, has no power, either directive or executive, being incapable of any. It is, nevertheless, entirely happy in its condition of tutelage, and, as far as virtue can be predicated of sensuality, virtuous, the excesses of sensuality being repressed by the other two classes. Indeed, the great merit which Plato claims for his scheme is, that it secures harmony, and therefore happiness, for all, by placing every individual citizen in the class to which by nature he belongs, that is, in which his nature can find the fullest and freëst expression compatible with the well-being of the whole. Such is Plato's political scheme, marked by the two notorious Greek characteristics, love of harmony and contempt for labor. It is curious to think that it foreshadowed three modern institutions—the ecclesiastical hierarchy, the standing army, and the industrial community, in which, however, the relations of power demanded by Plato are almost reversed, with (it is only fair to say) the result which he foresaw.

In trying to answer the question, By what means[141] shall these classes be sundered? Plato calmly assumes that his scheme is already in full operation among grown people, so that the only difficulty remaining is with regard to the children. And this is completely met by his scheme of education. The State or, let us say at once, the philosophic class, having abolished the family, and assumed its functions, determines what number and kind of children it requires at any given time, and provides for them as it would for sheep or kine. It brings together at festivals the vigorous males and females, and allows them to choose their mates for the occasion. As soon as the children are born, they are removed from their mothers and taken charge of in State institutions, where the feeble and deformed are at once destroyed. Any children begotten without the authority of the State share the same fate, either before or after birth. Those whose birth is authorized, and who prove vigorous, are reared by the State, none of them knowing, or being known by, their parents. But they by no means suffer any diminution of parentage on that account; for every mature man regards himself as the father, and every mature woman regards herself as the mother, of all the children born within a certain time, so that every child has thousands of fathers and mothers, all interested in his welfare; and the mothers, being relieved from nearly all the duties of maternity, share equally with the men in all the functions of the State.

The system of education to which the children of the State are subjected is, to a large extent, modelled after that of Sparta, especially in respect to its rigor and its absolutely political character. It contains,[142] however, a strong Ionic or Athenian element, notably on the intellectual and æsthetic side. It may fairly claim to be intensely Hellenic. It accepts the time-honored division of education into Music and Gymnastics, making no distinct place for Letters, but including them under Music. It demands that these two branches shall be pursued as parts of a whole, calculated to develop, as far as may be, the harmonious human being, and fit him to become part of the harmonious State. I have said "as far as may be," because Plato believes that only a small number of persons at any given time can be reduced to complete harmony. These are the born philosophers, who, when their nature is fully realized, no longer require the State, but stand, as gods, above it. In truth, the State is needed just because the mass of mankind cannot attain inner harmony, but would perish, were it not for the outer harmony imposed by the philosophers. This is a sad fact, and would be altogether disheartening, were it not for the belief, which Plato seems to have derived from Pythagoras and the Egyptians, that those human beings who fail to attain harmony in one life, will have opportunities to do so in other lives, so long as they do not, by some awful and malignant crime or crimes, show that they are utterly incapable of harmony. Plato's scheme of political education, therefore, requires, as its complement, the doctrines of individual immortality, of probation continued through as many lives as may be necessary, and of the possibility of final and eternal blessedness or misery. In fact, Plato has a fully-developed eschatology, [143]with an "other world," consisting of three well-defined parts,—Elysium, Acheron, and Tartarus,—corresponding to the Paradise, Purgatory, and Hell of Catholic Christianity; with one important difference, however, due to the doctrine of metempsychosis. While the Christian purgatory is a place or state of purgation for souls whose probation is over forever, Acheron is merely a place where imperfect souls remain till the end of a world-period, or æon, of ten thousand years, when they are again allowed to return to life and renew their struggle for that complete harmony which is the condition of admission to the society of the gods.

It is from this eschatology that Plato derives the moral sanctions which he employs in his State. It is true that no one has insisted with greater force than he upon the truth that virtue is, in and for itself, the highest human good; he believed, however, that this could be appreciated only by the philosopher, who had experience of it, and that for the lower orders of men a more powerful, though less noble, sanction was necessary. Accordingly, he depicts the joys of Elysium in images that could not but appeal to the Hellenic imagination, and paints Tartarus in gruesome colors that would do honor to a St. Ignatius.

In order fully to understand the method of Plato's political education, we must revert to Chapter III of Book I. There we saw that, according to the Greeks, a complete education demanded three things, (1) a noble nature, (2) training through habit, (3) instruction. For the first Plato would do what can be done by artificial selection of parents; for the second, he would depend upon music and gymnastics; for the third,[144] upon philosophy. In these last two divisions we have the root of the mediæval trivium and quadrivium. The Platonic pedagogical system seeks to separate the ignoble from the noble natures, and to place the former in the lowest class. It then trains the noble natures in music and gymnastics, and, while this is going on, it tries to distinguish those natures which are capable of rising above mere training to reflective or philosophic thought, from those which are not. The latter it assigns to the military class, which always remains at the stage of training, while the former are instructed in philosophy, and, if they prove themselves adepts, are finally admitted to the ruling class, as sages. Any member of either of the higher classes who proves himself unworthy of that class, may at any time be degraded into the next below.

As soon as the children are accepted by the State, their education under State nurses begins. The chief efforts of these for some time are directed to the bodies of the children, to seeing that they are healthy and strong. As soon as the young creatures can stand and walk, they are taught to exert themselves in an orderly way and to play little games; and as soon as they understand what is said to them, they are told stories and sung to. Such is their first introduction to gymnastics and music. What games are to be taught, what stories told, and what airs sung to the children, the State determines, and indeed, since the character of human beings depends, in great measure, upon the first impression made upon them, this is one of its most sacred duties. Plato altogether disap[145]proves of leaving children without guidance to seek exercise and amusement in their own way, and demands that their games shall be such as call forth, in a gentle and harmonious way, all the latent powers of body and mind, and develop the sense of order, beauty, and fitness. He is still more earnest in insisting that the stories told to children shall be exemplifications of the loftiest morality, and the airs sung to them such as settle, strengthen, and solemnize the soul. He follows Heraclitus in demanding that the Homeric poems, so long the storehouse for children's stories, shall be entirely proscribed, on account of the false ideals which they hold up both of gods and heroes, and the intimidating descriptions which they give of the other world. Virtue, he holds, cannot be furthered by fear, which is characteristic only of slaves. He thinks that all early intellectual training should be a sort of play. The truth is, the infant-school of Plato's Republic comes as near as can well be imagined to the ideal of the modern kindergarten.

While this elementary education is going on, the officers of the State have abundant opportunity for observing the different characters of the children, and distinguishing the noble from the ignoble. As soon as a child shows plainly that it belongs by nature to the lowest class, they consign it to that class, and its education by the State practically ceases. Of course these officers know from what class each child came, and they make use of this knowledge in determining its future destiny. At the same time, they are not to be entirely guided by it, but to act impartially.[146] The education of the lowest class after childhood the State leaves to take care of itself, persuaded that appetite will always find means for its own satisfaction. The nobler natures it continues to educate, without any break, until they reach the age of twenty. And this education is distinctly a military training. As time goes on, the gymnastic exercises become more violent, more complex, and more sustained, but always have for their subject the soul, rather than the body, and never degenerate into mere athletic brutality. Special attention is directed to the musical and literary exercises, as the means whereby the soul is directly trained and harmonized. Plato holds that no change can be made in the "music" of a State, without a corresponding change in the whole organization; in other words, that the social and political condition of a people is determined by the literature and music which it produces and enjoys. He virtually says, Let me make the songs of a people, and he who will may make their laws. Of the character of the music which he recommends we have already spoken. From literature he would exclude all that we are in the habit of calling by that name, all that is mimetic, poetic, or creative, and confine the term to what is scientific, didactic, and edifying. He sends the poets out of the State with mock-reverent politeness, as creatures too divine for human use. He is particularly severe upon the dramatists, not sparing even the sublime Æschylus. In fact, he would banish from his State all art not directly edifying. The literature which he recommends is plainly of the nature of Æsop's Fables, the Pythagorean Golden Words, and[147] the Parmenidean or Heraclitean work On Nature. If we wished to express his intent in strictly modern language, we should have to say that he desired to replace literary training by ethical and scientific, and the poetical mode of presenting ideals by the prosaic. The true music, he held, is in the human being. "If we find," he says, "a man who perfectly combines gymnastics with music, and in exact proportion applies them to the soul, we shall be entirely justified in calling him the perfect musician and the perfect trainer, far superior to the man who arranges strings alongside each other."

There are many matters of detail in Plato's scheme of military training that well deserve consideration, but cannot be even touched upon here. Before we leave it, however, we may give the dates at which the different branches of education are to begin. Care of the body begins at birth, story-telling with the third year, gymnastics with the seventh, writing and reading with the tenth, letters and music with the fourteenth, mathematics with the sixteenth, military drill, which for the time supplants all other training, with the eighteenth. When the young people reach the age of twenty, those who show no great capacity for science, but are manly and courageous, are assigned to the soldier class, and start on a course of higher education in military training, while those who evince great intellectual ability become novices in the ruling class, and begin a curriculum in science, which lasts till the close of their thirtieth year. This course includes arithmetic, geometry, and astronomy, the only sciences at that time cultivated, and aims at[148] impressing upon the youthful mind the unity and harmony of the physical or phenomenal universe. At the age of thirty, those students who do not show any particular aptitude for higher studies are drafted off into the lower public offices, while those who do, pass five years in the study of dialectics, whereby they rise to pure ideas. They are then, from their thirty-fifth to their fiftieth year, made to fill the higher public offices, in which they take their orders directly from the sages. During this period they put their acquirements to a practical test, and so come really and fully into possession of them. At the end of their fiftieth year, after half a century of continuous education of body, mind, and will, they are reckoned to have reached the vision of the supreme good, and therefore to be fit to enter the contemplative ruling class. They are now free men; they have reached the goal of existence; their life is hidden with God; they are free from the prison of the body, and only remain in it voluntarily, and out of gratitude to the State which has educated them, in order to direct it, in accordance with absolute truth and right, toward the Supreme Good.

Such, in its outlines, is Plato's theory of education, as set forth in the Republic. It is easy to point out its defects and its errors, which are neither small nor few, but fundamental and all-pervasive. But it is equally easy to see how it came to have these defects and errors, since they are simply those of every æsthetic social scheme which ignores the nature of the material with which it presumes to deal, and takes no account of the actual history of social insti[149]tutions or of the forces by which they are evolved. It is emphatically the product of a youthful intellect, carried away by an artistic ideal. It was, however, the intellect of a Plato, who, when he became more mature, saw, without "irreverence for the dreams of youth," the feebleness of ideas for the conflict with human frailties, and strove to correct his exaggerated estimate of their power.

This he did in the Laws, whose very title suggests, in a way almost obtrusive, the change of attitude and allegiance. While in the Republic the State is governed by sages, almost entirely without laws, in the later work, the sages almost disappear and the laws assume an all-important place. In writing the Laws, moreover, he exchanges allegiance to Socrates and ideas for allegiance to Pythagoras and the gods. In saying this, I have marked the fundamental difference between the Republic and the Laws. While in the former Plato finds the moral sanctions, in the last resort, in the ideas of the pure intellect, trained in mathematics, astronomy, and dialectics, in the latter he derives them from the content of the popular consciousness, with its gods, its ethical notions, its traditions. In these, as embodied in institutions, he finds the most serviceable, if not the most exalted, revelation of divine truth. Trusting to this, he no longer seeks to abolish the family and private property, but merely to have them regulated; he no longer banishes strangers and poets from his State, but merely subjects them to State supervision; he no longer demands a philosophical training for the rulers, but only practical insight; he no longer divides his[150] citizens into sages, soldiers, and wealth-producers, but into freemen (corresponding to his previous military class) and slaves. His government is no longer an aristocracy of intellect, but a compound of aristocracy, oligarchy, and democracy, representing, respectively, worth, wealth, and will. His plan of education is modified to suit these altered conditions. The children, as in Sparta, do not begin the State course of education until about their seventh year, after which their training is very much the same as that demanded in the Republic, with the omission, of course, of dialectics. Though women are no longer to be relieved of their home duties, they are still to share in the education and occupations of men, an arrangement which is facilitated by the law ordaining that both men and women shall eat at public tables. In making these changes, Plato believed that he was falling from a lofty, but unrealizable, ideal, and making concessions to human weakness; in reality, he was approaching truth and right.
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Re: Aristotle and Ancient Educational Ideals, by Thomas Davi

Postby admin » Fri Apr 10, 2020 4:39 am

BOOK III: ARISTOTLE (b.c. 384-322)

CHAPTER I: ARISTOTLE—LIFE AND WORKS


Aristotle, in my opinion, stands almost alone in philosophy.

—Cicero.


Aristotle, Nature's private secretary, dipping his pen in intellect.

—Eusebius.


Wherever the divine wisdom of Aristotle has opened its mouth, the wisdom of others, it seems to me, is to be disregarded.—Dante.

I could soon get over Aristotle's prestige, if I could only get over his reasons.

—Lessing.


If, now in my quiet days, I had youthful faculties at my command, I should devote myself to Greek, in spite of all the difficulties I know. Nature and Aristotle should be my sole study. It is beyond all conception what that man espied, saw, beheld, remarked, observed. To be sure he was sometimes hasty in his explanations; but are we not so, even to the present day?

—Goethe (at 78).


If the proper earnestness prevailed in philosophy, nothing would be more worthy of establishing than a foundation for a special lectureship on Aristotle; for he is, of all the ancients, the most worthy of study.

—Hegel.


Aristotle was one of the richest and most comprehensive geniuses that ever appeared—a man beside whom no age has an equal to place.

—Id.


Physical philosophy occupies itself with the general qualities of matter. It is an abstraction from the dynamic manifestations of the different kinds of matter; and even where its foundations were first laid, in the eight books of Aristotle's Physical Lectures, all the phenomena of nature are represented as the motive vital activity of a universal world-force.

—Alexander von Humboldt.


It was characteristic of this extraordinary genius to work at both ends of the scientific process. He was alike a devotee to facts and a master of the highest abstractions.

—Alexander Bain.


Aristotle is the Father of the Inductive Method, and he is so for two reasons: First, he theoretically recognized its essential principles with a clearness, and exhibited them with a conviction, which strike the modern man with amazement; and then he made the first comprehensive attempt to apply them to all the science of the Greeks.

—Wilhelm Oncken.


Aristotle, for whose political philosophy our admiration rises, the more we consider the work of his successors, is less guided by imagination than Plato, examines reality more carefully, and recognizes more acutely, the needs of man.

—Bluntschli.


It appears to me that there can be no question, that Aristotle stands forth, not only as the greatest figure in antiquity, but as the greatest intellect that has ever appeared upon the face of this earth.

—George J. Romanes.


Aristotle, with all the wisdom of Plato before him, which he was well able to appropriate, could find no better definition of the true good of man than the full exercise or realization of the soul's faculties in accordance with its proper excellence, which was excellence of thought, speculative and practical.

—Thomas Hill Green.


It is pretty definitely settled, among men competent to form a judgment, that Aristotle was the best educated man that ever walked on the surface of this earth. He is still, as he was in Dante's time, the "master of those that know." It is, therefore, not without reason that we look to him, not only as the best exponent of ancient education, but as one of the worthiest guides and ensamples in education generally. That we may not lose the advantage of his example, it will be well, before we consider his educational theories, to cast a glance at his life, the process of his development, and his work.

[155]Aristotle was born about b.c. 384, in the Greek colony of Stagira in Thrace, near the borders of Macedonia. His father, Nicomachus, was a physician of good standing, the author of several medical works, and the trusted friend of Amyntas, the Macedonian King. His mother, Phæstis, was descended from the early settlers of the place. It was doubtless under his father's guidance that the boy Aristotle first became interested in those physical studies in which he was destined to do such wonderful work. Losing, however, both his parents at an early age, he came under the charge of Proxenus, of Atarneus, who appears to have done his duty by him. At the age of eighteen he came to Athens for his higher education, and entered the school of Plato in the Academy. Here he remained for nearly twenty years, listening to Plato, and acquiring those vast stores of information which in later life he worked up into lectures and scientific treatises. Nothing escaped him, neither art, science, religion, philosophy, nor politics. He seems, being well off, to have begun early to collect a library, and to aim at encyclopædic knowledge. About his methods of study we know very little; but we hear that at times he assisted Plato in his work and was very careful of his own attire. It is clear that, in course of time, he rose in thought above the teachings of his master, and even rejected the most fundamental of them, the doctrine of self-existent ideas. But he never lost respect for that master, and when the latter died, he retired with Xenocrates, son of the new head of the Academy, to Atarneus, the [156]home of his old guardian Proxenus, and of his fellow-Academic, Hermias, now king or tyrant of the place. Here he remained for three years, in the closest intimacy with his friend, until the latter was treacherously murdered by the Persians. He then crossed over to Mytilene, taking with him Pythias, Hermias' sister or niece, whom he had married, and to whom he was deeply devoted. He erected in Delphi a statue to his dead friend, and dedicated to him a poem, of which we shall hear more in the sequel. About b.c. 343, when he was over forty years old, he was called to Macedonia, as tutor to Alexander, the thirteen-year-old son of King Philip, and grandson of his own father's old patron, Amyntas. This office he filled for about three years with distinguished success, and it may be safely said that never had so great a tutor so great a pupil. During the latter part of the time, at least, Aristotle and Alexander seem to have lived at Stagira. This town had been captured and destroyed by Philip, and its inhabitants scattered. With the permission of the conqueror, Aristotle reassembled the inhabitants, rebuilt the town, drew up its laws, and laid out near it, at Mieza, in imitation of the Academy, a gymnasium and park, which he called the Nymphæum. Hither he appears to have retired with his royal pupil and several other youths who were receiving education along with him, among them Theophrastus and the ill-fated Callisthenes. It was probably here that Aristotle adopted the habit of walking while imparting instruction, a habit which afterwards gave the name to his school. When Alexander, at sixteen, entered his father's army, Aristotle still continued to teach in the Nymphæum, which[157] existed even in Plutarch's time, more than four hundred years afterwards. But this lasted only for about five years; for in 335, when Alexander, who in the previous year had succeeded his murdered father, was preparing to invade Persia, Aristotle moved to Athens. Finding that his old friend, Xenocrates, was director of the school in the Academy, he established himself, as a public teacher or professor, in the Lyceum, the Periclean gymnasium, used chiefly, it should seem, by the lower classes and by foreign residents, of whom he himself was one. As an alien, as the friend of the victorious Macedonians, who three years before had broken the power of Greece at Chæronea, and taken away her autonomy forever, as a rival of the Platonists, and as a wealthy, well-dressed gentleman, he had many enemies and detractors; but his conduct seems to have been so unobjectionable that no formal charge could be brought against him. His very numerous pupils were mostly foreigners, a fact not without its influence on the subsequent course of thought. He divided his days between writing and teaching, taking his physical exercise while engaged in the latter occupation. In the mornings he gave lectures to a narrow circle, in a strictly formal and scientific way, upon the higher branches of science; while in the afternoons he conducted conversations upon more popular themes with a less select audience. The former were called his esoteric, the latter his exoteric, discourses.

It was during his second residence in Athens, in the twelve years from b.c. 335 to 323, that Aristotle composed most of those great works in which he[158] sought to sum up, in an encyclopædic way, the results of a life of all-embracing study and thought. He had been in no haste to put himself on record, and it was not until he had reached a consistent view of the world that he ventured to treat, in a definitive way, any aspect of it. Thus it was that each of his treatises formed part of one great whole of thought. Had he succeeded in completing his plan, he would have left to the world a body of science such as, even in our own day, would look in vain for a peer among the works of any one man. Unfortunately, his plan was not completed, and even of the works which he did write only a portion has come down to us. But that portion is sufficient to place their author at the head of all scientific men. Some of his works, for example, his Logic, Metaphysics, Ethics, and Politics, still occupy the first place in the literature of these subjects. How a single man could have done all that he did, and in so many different departments, is almost inconceivable. No doubt he had helpers, in the shape of secretaries, learned slaves, and disciples; and it is certain that he received from his royal pupil munificent aid, which enabled him to do much, especially in the directions of physical and political research, that would have been impossible for a poor man; but, after all allowances have been made, his achievement still seems almost miraculous.

During all the years in which Aristotle was thus engaged, his position at Athens was becoming more and more insecure. The anti-Macedonian party were waiting for the first opportunity to rid the city of him, and were prevented from open attempts at this[159] only by dread of Alexander's displeasure. Even when it was known that Aristotle had incurred disfavor with his old pupil, they did not venture to attack him; but in 323, when the news of Alexander's sudden death made all Greece feel that now the time had come to get rid forever of the hated Macedonians, and recover its liberty, they at once gave vent to their long-cherished hatred. How hard it was to find matter for an accusation against him, is shown by the fact that they had to go back to his old poem on Worth, written in memory of Hermias (see p. 4), and to base thereon a charge of impiety—a charge always easily made, and always sure to arouse strong popular prejudice. According to Athenian law, the defendant in any such case might, if he chose, escape punishment by leaving the city any time before the trial; and Aristotle, not being, like Socrates, a citizen, could have no ground for refusing to take advantage of this liberty. Accordingly, with the remark that he would not voluntarily allow the Athenians to sin a second time against philosophy, he withdrew to his country residence at Chalcis in Eubœa, the old home of his mother's family, to wait till affairs should take another turn, as, indeed, they soon afterwards did, when Athens had to open her gates to Antipater. But, ere that happened, Aristotle was in his grave, having died in 322, shortly before Demosthenes, of disease of the stomach, from which he had long suffered. His remains are said to have been carried to Stagira, where the grateful inhabitants erected an altar over them and paid divine honors to his memory. His library and the manuscripts of his works he left[160] in the hands of Theophrastus, who succeeded him in the Lyceum. His will, the text of which has come down to us, bears testimony, along with all else that we know of him, to the nobility, kindliness, and justice of his nature.
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Re: Aristotle and Ancient Educational Ideals, by Thomas Davi

Postby admin » Fri Apr 10, 2020 4:40 am

CHAPTER II: ARISTOTLE'S PHILOSOPHY

Platon rêvait; Aristote pensait.

—Alfred de Musset.


Are God and Nature then at strife
That Nature lends such evil dreams?

—Tennyson.


There are three Essences. Two of these are sensible; one being eternal, and the other perishable. The latter is admitted by all, in the form, for example, of plants and animals; in regard to the former, or eternal one, we shall have to consider its elements, and see whether they be one or many. The third is immutable [and, therefore, inaccessible to sense], and this some thinkers hold to be transcendent.

—Aristotle.


The vision of the divine is what is sweetest and best; and if God always enjoys that vision as we sometimes do, it is wonderful, and if he does so in a yet higher degree, it is more wonderful still. And so even it is. And life belongs to him; for the self-determination of thought is life, and he is self-determination. And his absolute self-determination is the supreme and eternal life. And we call God a living being, eternal, best; so that life and duration, uniform and eternal, belong to God; for this is God.

—Id.


We must consider in what way the system of the universe contains the good and the best, whether as something transcendent and self-determined, or as order. Surely in both ways at once, as in any army, for which the good is in order, and is the general, and the latter more than the former. For the general is not due to the order, but the order to the general.

—Id.


The thought of Aristotle differs from that of Plato both in its method and in its results. Plato, reared in the school of Pythagoras, Parmenides, Heraclitus,[162] and Socrates, had, naturally enough, come to look for truth in the supersensual region of mind, and thought he found it in ideas attainable by a process of dialectic within the individual consciousness. He thus came to put forward a doctrine which, despite its ostensible purpose to cement the bonds of society, in reality tended to withdraw men from society altogether and increase the very individualism it was intended to cure. Aristotle, while still in Plato's school, had turned away from this doctrine, and in after-life he never lost an opportunity of combating it. He could point to Plato's Republic as a warning example of its logical consequences. But, in doing this, he was prepared to put another doctrine in its place, and he did so on the basis of a profound study of the whole course of Greek thought, mythological and philosophical.

Instead of appealing, like Plato, to the individual consciousness, and trying to discover ultimate truth by bringing its data into harmony among themselves, Aristotle appeals to the historic consciousness, and endeavors to find truth by harmonizing and complementing its data through a further appeal to the outer world, in which these data are realized. He maintains that the truths reached by the dialectic process are merely formal, and therefore empty,—useless in practice, until they have been filled by experience from the storehouse of nature. In consequence of this changed attitude, he sets aside the dialectic process, and substitutes for it the Method of Induction, which he was the first man in the world to comprehend, expound, and apply, becoming thus the father of all true science. And he makes a more extensive use of in[163]duction than any other man since his time, applying it in a field in which even now it is hardly supposed to yield any results, the field of the common consciousness. Indeed, he everywhere begins his search for concrete truth by examining the historic consciousness, and, having, by a process of induction, discovered and generalized its contents, he turns with these to nature and, by a second induction, corrects, completes, and harmonizes them. We might express this in modern language, by saying that his whole endeavor is to correct and supplement the imperfect human consciousness by a continual appeal to the divine consciousness, as manifested in the world. It is the error of modern investigators that they employ only one-half of the inductive method, the objective, and either omit altogether the subjective, or else, like Plato, apply it only to the individual consciousness. Hence come the widely divergent results which still meet us in so many of the sciences, in Politics, Psychology, etc., hence the fact that a great deal of science, instead of correcting, widening, and harmonizing the common consciousness, stands altogether apart from it, or even in direct opposition to it. The man who writes a treatise on Psychology, or on the Soul, without troubling himself to discover what "Soul" means in the general consciousness of mankind, and perhaps setting out with an altogether individual notion of it, can hardly look for any other result. Aristotle, true to his method of induction, devotes one entire book of his Psychology to finding out what "Soul" means in the historic consciousness, unreflective as well as reflective. Then, with this meaning,[164] he goes to nature, seeks by induction to discover what she has to say about it, and abides by her reply. Hence it is that his thought has laid hold upon the world, and influenced it in practical ways, as no other man's thought has ever done. Hence it is that, of all ancient men, he is the one before whom the modern scientist bows with respect.

If we now ask ourselves what was the underlying thought that shaped Aristotle's theory of induction, what was his Weltanschauung, we shall find it to be this: The divine intelligence reveals itself subjectively in an historic process in the human consciousness, and objectively[4] in a natural process in the outer world. Truth for man is the harmony of the two revelations. It follows directly from this that the scientist must take impartial account of both. So, for example, if he finds gods in the historical consciousness, and laws or forces in nature, he has no right, like the theologian, to merge the latter in the former, or, like the physicist, to replace the former by the latter. He must retain both till he can bring them into harmony. Only then does he know either.

Such a philosophy as this, instead of drawing men away from the world of nature and history, and confining them to the narrow circle of their own consciousness, of necessity sent them back to that world, as the only means by which any human well-being could be reached. It is for this reason that it has so powerfully affected both social life and science. Neverthe[165]less, we should err greatly, if we supposed that, in Aristotle's view, the divine is nothing more than an immanent idea, working as a force-form in nature, and as a thought-form in mind. He does, indeed, believe that the divine is all this, but not that this is all the divine there is. Over and above the divine which is determined in nature and in man, there is the transcendent Mind, or God, determining himself through himself, and bearing the same relation to the divine that the sun bears to light, the human mind to human thought, the general to the order of his army. Here we are far away from Pantheism, and, though we have not yet risen to a clear conception of personality, we have at the "helm of the universe" a conscious being, the source of law and order. And man, rising above the thought whereby he knows himself through nature, and nature through himself, may enter into the consciousness of God and become a partaker in that life which is "sweetest and best." These are the features of Aristotle's thought which in the thirteenth century made it acceptable to the Christian Church in her struggle against Pantheism, and which paved the way for that higher mysticism of which Thomas Aquinas is the most distinguished exponent—a mysticism which does not, like that of the Neoplatonists and Buddhists, dispense with thought to lose itself in vacancy, but which, rising upon a broad basis of knowledge, pierces the clouds of sense, to find itself in the presence of the most concrete Reality, the inexhaustible source of all thought and all things.
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Re: Aristotle and Ancient Educational Ideals, by Thomas Davi

Postby admin » Fri Apr 10, 2020 4:42 am

CHAPTER III: ARISTOTLE'S THEORY OF THE STATE

First, then, let us try to enumerate whatever worthy utterances have proceeded from men of the past upon any aspect of the subject, and then, referring to our collections of Constitutional Histories, let us seek to arrive at a theory as to what sorts of things preserve and destroy each particular form of government, and see for what reasons some are well, some ill, managed. Succeeding in this, we may, perhaps, the better learn both what is the best form of government, and what arrangements, laws, and customs are best suited to each form.

—Aristotle.


Man is a political animal.

—Id.


The State is prior to the individual.

—Id.


Without friends no one would choose to live, although he possessed all other blessings.

—Id.


If happiness be self-determination in accordance with worth, we must conclude that it will be in accordance with the supreme worth, which will be the worth of the noblest part of us. This part, whatever it may be, whether intellect (νοῦς) or something else, that which by nature evidently rules and guides us and has insight into things beautiful and divine, whether it be itself divine, or the divinest part of us, is that whose self-determination, in accordance with its proper worth, will be the perfect happiness. That this consists in the vision of divine things has already been said.... This, indeed, is the supreme self-determination, for the reason that intellect is the highest part of us, and that with which it deals is the highest of the knowable.... But a life of this sort would be something higher than the human; for he who lived it would not be living as man, but as the subject of something divine.... If, then, intellect is something divine in relation to man, the life lived according to it must be divine in relation to human life. Instead, then, of following those who advise us, as being human, to set our[167] thoughts upon human things, and, as being mortals, to set them on mortal things, it is our duty, as far as may be, to act as immortal beings, and do all we can to live in accordance with the supreme part of us.

—Aristotle.


Man alone, among all beings, occupies a middle place between things corruptible and things incorruptible.... Two ends, therefore, Ineffable Providence has ordained for man: Blessedness in this life, which consists in the exercise of native faculty, and is figured by the Earthly Paradise, and blessedness in the eternal life, which consists in the enjoyment of the vision of God, a thing not to be achieved by any native faculty, unless aided by divine light, and which is to be understood by the Heavenly Paradise.... These ends and means would be disregarded by human passion, if men were not restrained in their course by bit and bridle.... For this reason man required a double directive, corresponding to this double end. He required the Supreme Pontiff to guide the human race to life eternal, and the Emperor to guide the human race to temporal felicity, in accordance with the teachings of philosophy.... The truth with regard to the question whether the authority of the Emperor is derived directly from God or from another, must not be taken so strictly as to mean that the Roman Prince is not, in some respects, subject to the Roman Pontiff, the fact being that this mortal felicity of ours is, in some sense, ordained with a view to immortal felicity. Let Cæsar, therefore, display that reverence for Peter which the first-born son ought to display for his father, so that, being illuminated by his father's grace, he may with greater virtue enlighten the world, which he has been called to govern by Him who is governor of all things, spiritual and temporal.

—Dante.


O Grace abounding, whence I did presume
To fix my gaze upon the eternal light
So far that I consumed my sight therein!
Within its deeps I saw internalized
Into one volume, bound with love,
That which is outered in the universe;—
Substance and accident, and all their modes,
As 'twere, together merged in such a sort
That what I mean is but a simple light.
The universal form of this same knot
I think I saw, because, when thus I speak,
I feel that I rejoice with larger joy.—Id.


Man's chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever.

—Westminster Shorter Catechism.


Plato's chief purpose, in writing upon education, had been to suggest a remedy for the social and moral conditions of his native Athens. Aristotle has no such purpose. He is, in a very deep sense, a cosmopolitan, and writes in the interest of science and universal utility. His range of vision is not confined to Athens, or even to Greece (though he is very proud of being a Greek), but ranges over the whole known world in time and space. Unlike Plato, too, who had been familiar mainly with institutions of the past in Egypt and Greece, Aristotle is deeply affected by the tendencies of the future, and, though no one lays greater stress than he upon the necessity of a knowledge of the past for him who would construct a sound social theory, he nevertheless declares that the whole of the past is shaped by something which is in the future, by the ultimate realization. This view comes out in a paradoxical way in his famous saying that "the State is prior to the individual," by which he means that it is man's political nature working in him that makes him an individual, and at the same time realizes itself in a State. And this brings us to Aristotle's conception of the State, which we must consider before taking up his theory of education, for the reason that to him, as to all the ancient world, education is a function of the State, and is conducted, primarily at least, for the ends of the State.

Before venturing upon a theory of the State, Aristotle, true to his inductive principles, wrote the Constitutional Histories of over two hundred and fifty[169] different states. One of these, the Constitutional History of Athens, has recently been discovered and published (see p. 96). He held that it was only by means of a broad induction, thus rendered possible, that he could discover the idea of the State, that is, its self-realizing form. Employing this method, then, he came to the conclusion that the State is that highest social institution which secures the highest good or happiness of man. Having, in a previous treatise, satisfied himself that this good is Worth (ἀρετή), and worth being in every case the full exercise of characteristic or differentiating faculty, he concludes that, since man's distinguishing faculty is reason, the State is the institution which secures to man the fullest and freëst exercise of this. It follows directly that the State is, simply and solely, the supreme educational institution, the university to which all other institutions are but preparatory. And two more conclusions follow: (1) that states will differ in constitution with the different educational needs of the peoples among whom they exist, and (2) that, since all education is but a preparation for some worthy activity, political education, the life of man as a citizen, is but a preparation for the highest activity, which, because it is highest, must necessarily be an end in itself. This activity, Aristotle argues, can be none other than contemplation, the Vision of the Divine (θεωρία).

Results which have moved the world followed logically from this doctrine. Whereas Plato had made provision for a small and select body of super-civic men, and so paved the way for religious monasticism and asceticism, Aristotle maintains that in every[170] civilized man, as such, there is a super-civic part, in fact, a superhuman and divine part, for the complete realization of which all the other parts, and the State wherein they find expression, are but means. Here we have, in embryo, the whole of Dante's theory of the relation of Church and State, a theory which lies at the basis of all modern political effort, however little the fact may be recognized. Here, indeed, we have the whole framework of the Divine Comedy; here too we have the doctrine of the Beatific Vision, which for ages shaped and, to a large extent, still shapes, the life of Christendom. Well might Dante claim Aristotle as his master (see p. 153)! Well might the great doctors of the Church speak of him as "The Philosopher," and as the "Forerunner of Christ in Things Natural." In vain did Peter Ramus and Luther and Bruno and Bacon depreciate or anathematize him! He is more powerful to-day in thought and life than at any time for the last twenty-two centuries.

It may be asked how far, and in what form, Aristotle conceives the divine life to be possible for man on earth. He answers that, though it cannot be perfectly or continuously realized here, it is in some degree and for certain times attainable (see p. 161). In so far as it is a social life, it is the life of friendship or spiritual love (φιλία), to which he has devoted almost two books of his Ethics, books which give us a loftier idea of his personal purity and worth than any other of his extant writings. He insists that friendship is the supreme blessing (see p. 166), and that "whatever a man's being is, or whatever he[171] chooses to live for, in that he wishes to spend his life in the company of his friends." It is even said that Aristotle, while teaching in the Lyceum, gathered about him a knot of noble youths and earnest students, and formed them into a kind of community, with a view to leading a truly spiritual social life.
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Re: Aristotle and Ancient Educational Ideals, by Thomas Davi

Postby admin » Fri Apr 10, 2020 4:43 am

CHAPTER IV: ARISTOTLE'S PEDAGOGICAL STATE

Nature is the beginning of everything.

—Aristotle.


Life is more than meat, and the body than raiment.

—Jesus.


The forces of the human passions in us, when completely repressed, become more vehement; but when they are called into action for short time and in the right degree, they enjoy a measured delight, are soothed, and, thence being purged away, cease in a kindly, instead of a violent, way. For this reason, in tragedy and comedy, through being spectators of the passions of others, we still our own passions, render them more moderate, and purge them away; and so, likewise, in the temples, by seeing and hearing base things, we are freed from the injury that would come from the actual practice of them.

—Jamblichus.


Care for the body must precede care for the soul; next to care for the body must come care for the appetites; and, last of all, care for the intelligence. We train the appetites for the sake of the intelligence, and the body for the sake of the soul.

—Aristotle.


The practice of abortion was one to which few persons in antiquity attached any deep feeling of condemnation.... The physiological theory that the fœtus did not become a living creature till the hour of birth had some influence on the judgments passed upon this practice. The death of an unborn child does not appeal very powerfully to the feeling of compassion, and men who had not yet attained any strong sense of the sanctity of human life, who believed that they might regulate their conduct on these matters by utilitarian views, according to the general interest of the community, might very readily conclude that prevention of birth was in many cases an act of mercy. In Greece, Aristotle not only countenanced the practice, but even desired that it should be enforced by law, when population had exceeded certain assigned limits. No law in Greece, or in the Roman Republic, or during the[173] greater part of the Empire, condemned it.... The language of the Christians from the very beginning was very different. With unwavering consistency and with the strongest emphasis, they denounced the practice, not simply as inhuman, but as definitely murder.

—Lecky, European Morals.


Aristotle clearly saw that the strong tendency of the human race to increase, unless corrected by strict and positive laws, was absolutely fatal to every system founded on equality of property; and there cannot surely be a stronger argument against any system of this kind than the necessity of such laws as Aristotle himself proposes.... He seems to be fully aware that to encourage the birth of children, without providing properly for their support, is to obtain a very small accession to the population of a country, at the expense of a very great accession of misery.

—Malthus, Essay on Population.


Considering Aristotle's views with regard to man, his end, and the function of the State, we can have little difficulty in divining the character and method of his educational system. Man is a being endowed with reason; his end is the full realization of this, his sovereign and distinguishing faculty; the State is the means whereby this is accomplished.

Readers of Goethe's Wilhelm Meister will remember the description, in the second part, of the Pedagogical Province. Now, Aristotle's State might with entire propriety be called a Pedagogical Province. In trying to describe this State, and the manner in which it discharges its function, it is difficult to know where to begin, for the reason that, taken as a whole, the State is both teacher and pupil. It arranges the whole scheme of education, and is therefore related to it as cause; it is built up by this scheme, and is therefore related to it as effect. It comes, accordingly, both at the beginning and at the end.[174] It is a university which arranges the entire scheme of education, and is itself its highest grade. I shall try to surmount this difficulty by distinguishing what the State is from what it does, beginning with the former, and ending with the latter.

With regard to what the State is, we have to consider (1) its natural, (2) its social, conditions. The former are climate, and extent, nature, and situation of territory; the latter, number and character of inhabitants, property regulations, distinction of classes, city architecture, mode of life, government, and relations to other states.

Aristotle demands for his State a temperate climate, on the ground that a cold one renders men strong and bold, but dull and stupid, while a hot one renders them intellectual but effeminate. The best climate is one that makes them at once brave and intelligent. The territory must be extensive enough, and fertile enough, to supply its inhabitants with all the material conditions of life in answer to labor which shall rouse, without exhausting, their energies. It must face east or south, and be healthy, well-watered, accessible from land and sea, and easily defensible.

As to the social conditions, Aristotle finds the most important to be the number of citizens. And here two things must be carefully borne in mind. (1) He means by "State" a city with a small territory. This is not, as has been erroneously supposed, his highest social unity. He recognizes clearly the nation (ἔθνος) and the confederacy (συμμαχία); but he holds that they exist merely for material ends, whereas the[175] end of the State is spiritual. (2) He means by "citizen" a politician. A man is a citizen, not because he is born or domiciled in a State, but because he is a sharer in its functions. A State made up of mechanics, no matter how great their number, would be a small State, and one composed of slaves would be no State at all. Thus, in estimating the size of a State, we are to consider the character of its inhabitants, their fitness for political functions, rather than their number. Little Athens was a much larger State than gigantic Persia on the field of Marathon. Aristotle lays down that the number of citizens must be large enough to insure independence, this being essential to a Culture-State, and not too large to be manageable. Besides the citizens, there will necessarily be in the State a very large number of other human beings, slaves, agriculturists, mechanics, sailors—for all these he excludes from citizenship on the ground that they do not make virtue, that is, the realization of reason, the end of their lives. Women, in a sense, are citizens, if they belong to the families of citizens; but their sphere is the family.

With regard to property, Aristotle begins by considering what things it is necessary for. These he finds to be six, three private and three public. The former are food (including clothing and shelter), instruments of production, and arms; the latter are public enterprises (civil and military), religion, and law. These are the "necessaries" (ἀναγκαία) of a State, for which it must duly provide. The most important of all is religion, on which he everywhere lays great stress. As to the distribution of property, he pro[176]pounds a scheme which is half socialistic. All the land is to belong to the State, that is, to the body of the free citizens. It is to be divided into two equal portions, and one set apart for public, the other for private, uses. The revenue from the public part is to go for the support of religion (and law?) and of the public tables, from which no citizen is excluded by poverty. The private part is to be so divided that each citizen shall have one lot near the city, and one near the frontier. This will give him an interest in defending the whole territory. Both parts are to be cultivated by serfs or slaves, part of whom will necessarily belong to the State, and part to private individuals. Land-owning is to be a condition of citizenship, and all citizens are to be forbidden to exercise any form of productive industry. This last rule, it is hoped, will prevent grievous inequalities of wealth, and the evils that flow from them. A modest competency, derived from his estate, is all that any citizen should aim at. Only degraded people, incapable of virtue, will crave for more.

Upon the distinction of classes some light has been already thrown. They are two; the ruling and the ruled. Aristotle holds that this distinction runs through the whole of nature and spirit, that it is fundamental in being itself. It holds between God and the universe, form and matter, soul and body, object and subject, husband and wife, parent and child, master and slave, etc., etc. The ruling class again is sub-divided into two parts, one that thinks and determines (legislators and judges), and one that executes (officials, officers, soldiers); while the ruled[177] is sub-divided into husbandmen, mechanics, and seamen (sailors, fishermen, etc.). All the members of the ruled class are serfs or public slaves, working, not for themselves, but for their masters. Aristotle holds that they ought to be barbarians of different races, and not Greeks.

The architecture of the city will in some degree correspond to this social division. It will naturally fall into three divisions, military, religious, and civil. First of all, a city must have walls. These should have towers and bastions at proper distances, and be made as attractive as possible. The temples of the gods and the offices of the chief magistrates should, if possible, stand together on a fortified citadel, conspicuously dominating the entire city. Adjoining this ought to be the Freemen's Square, reserved entirely for the ruling class, and unencumbered by business or wares of any sort. Here ought to stand the gymnasium for the older citizens, who will thus be brought into contact with the magistrates and inspired with "true reverence and freemen's fear." The market-square must be placed so as to be convenient for the reception of goods both from sea and land. This comprehends all the civil architecture except the mess-halls, of which we shall better speak in the next paragraph.

The mode of life of the ruling class will necessarily differ widely from that of the ruled. About the latter Aristotle has nothing to say. He hopes for little from that class beyond the possibility of being held in contented subordination. As it has no political life, all that is left to it is the life of the family.[178] The ruling class, on the contrary, live to a large extent in public, and on public funds. They exercise in public gymnasia and eat at public tables. The chief magistrates have their mess-hall in the citadel; the priests have theirs close to the temples; the magistrates, who preside over business matters, streets, and markets, have theirs near the market-square, while those who attend to the defences of the city have tables in the towers. When not engaged in public business, the citizens may meet in the Freemen's Square and enjoy an open-air conversazione, with music, poetry, and philosophy, in a word, διαγωγή, for which our language has no even approximate equivalent (see p. 33). In proportion as they advance in years, the citizens enjoy more and more διαγωγή, which, indeed, is regarded as the end of life, here and hereafter.

The government is entirely in the hands of the free citizens, the legislative and deliberative power being in those of the elders; the executive power, civil and military, in those of the younger portion. It is curious that, though Aristotle regards this as the best possible arrangement under ordinary circumstances, he nevertheless believes that the happiest condition for a State would be to be governed by some divine or heroic man, far superior to all the others in wisdom and goodness. He plainly considers Pisistratus to have been one such man, and he perhaps hoped that Alexander might be another.

The relations of the pedagogical State to other States are, as far as possible, to be peaceful. Just as all labor is for the sake of rest and διαγωγή, so all[179] war is for the sake of peace; and that State is to be envied which can maintain an honorable independence without war. A cultured State will eschew all attempts at conquest, and be as unwilling to tyrannize over another State as to be tyrannized over by one. At the same time, it will always be prepared for war, possessing an army of well-trained, well-armed soldiers, and a well-manned, well-equipped fleet.

Such are the chief features of Aristotle's ideal State, based, as he believes, on man's political nature and the history of the past. Like all social ideals, like heaven itself, as ordinarily conceived, it is a static condition. Its institutions are fixed once for all, and every effort is made to preserve them. It is curious to note in how many points it coincides with Xenophon's ideal.

The purpose of the State is to educate its citizens, to make them virtuous. Virtue is the very life-principle of the State, and it does not depend, as other conditions do, upon nature or chance, but upon free will. The ideal State, like every other, must educate with a view to its own institutions, since only in this way can these be preserved. "And, since the State, as a whole, has but one aim, it is evident that the political education of all the citizens ought to be the same, and that this is a matter for the State to attend to, and not one to be left to individual caprice, as is now almost universally done, when every parent attends to the education of his own children, and gives them whatever schooling suits his own fancy." For the education of those members of the State who are not citizens the State makes no provision. They[180] learn their practical duties by performing them, and are completely under the control of the citizens. Aristotle makes the most vigorous efforts to prove that slavery has its justification in nature, which has established between Greek and barbarian the relation of master and slave (see p. 12). As woman belongs to the family, and is only indirectly a citizen of the State, her education is entrusted to the former institution. The daughter is to be educated by the parents, and the wife by the husband, exactly as recommended by Xenophon.

Having concluded that education ought to be a matter of State legislation, and the same for all the citizens, he continues: "It remains to inquire what shall be the nature of the education, and the method of imparting it.... The present state of education leaves this question in a perfect muddle, no one seeming to know whether we ought to teach those subjects which enable people to make a living, or those which foster worth, or, finally, accomplishments. All have had their advocates. In regard to those studies which have worth for their aim, there is no general agreement, owing to the fact that different people have different views as to what kinds of worth are admirable, and consequently differ in regard to the means to be employed for the cultivation of them. One point, however, is perfectly clear, viz. that those useful things which are necessary ought to be taught. But it is equally clear that a distinction ought to be made between liberal and illiberal studies, and that only those useful subjects ought to be taught which do not turn those learning them into craftsmen. We[181] ought to look upon every employment, art, or study which contributes to render the bodies, souls, or intellects of free men unfit for the uses and practices of virtue, as a craft. For this reason it is that we call all those arts which lower the condition of the body crafts, and extend the term to the money-making trades, because they preoccupy and degrade the intelligence. As to the liberal arts, to cultivate an acquaintance with them up to a certain point is not illiberal; but any over-devotion to them, with a view to attaining professional skill, is liable to the objections mentioned. It also makes a great difference for what purpose we do or learn a thing. If a man does a thing for his own, for his friends', or for worth's sake, it is not illiberal, whereas if he does it often for the sake of anybody else, he will be held to be doing something mercenary or slavish."

The next and all-important question is, For what end shall the State educate,—for business or for leisure? In answering this, Aristotle breaks entirely away from the old Greek traditions, as well as from Plato, and maintains that, while it must educate for both, yet education for leisure is far more important than education for business, and cites Nature as his authority. "Nature itself demands," he says, "not only that we should pursue business properly, but that we should be able to employ our leisure elegantly. If we must have both, we must; but leisure is preferable to business, and our final inquiry must be, in what sort of employment we shall spend our leisure. It is useless to say that we are to spend it in play, and that play is the end and aim of our life.[182] If this is impossible, and the truth is that the proper place for play is in the midst of business (it is the man who is toiling that requires recreation, which is the aim of play, business being accompanied with exertion and tension), then, in having recourse to play, we must select the proper seasons for administering it, just as if it were a medicine. Indeed, all such movement of the soul is relaxation, and becomes recreation on account of the pleasure which it affords. Leisure, on the contrary, is considered, in and by itself, to involve pleasure, happiness, and a blessed life. These fall to the lot of those who have leisure, not of those who are engaged in business. Those who engage in business do so for some ulterior end not realized in it, whereas happiness is itself an end and, according to universal belief, brings, not pain but pleasure. Of course, as to the nature of this pleasure, there is at present a variety of opinions, every one having his own preferences due to his character and habits, and the highest type of man preferring the highest type of pleasure and that which arises from the noblest things. We need no further argument to show that we should receive instruction and education in certain things with a view to otium cum dignitate (or cultured leisure), and that these should be ends in themselves, in contradistinction to the instruction given for business, which is necessary and has an ulterior aim."

Three principles Aristotle lays down as valid for all education: (1) that the training of the body ought to take precedence in time over that of the mind; (2) that pupils should be taught to do things[183] before they are taught the reasons and principles of them; (3) that learning is never playing, or for the sake of playing.

The periods of education distinguished by Aristotle are: (1) Childhood, extending from birth to the end of the seventh year, and spent in healthy growing and, latterly, in preparation for discipline; (2) Boyhood, from the beginning of the eighth year to the advent of puberty, devoted to the lighter forms of discipline, bodily and mental; (3) Youth, from the age of puberty to the end of the twenty-first year, occupied with the severer forms of discipline; (4) Manhood, devoted to State duties. All these are but preparations for the divine life of the soul. We shall treat these in order, including the second and third under one head.
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