itself early, and that chiefly in these two things. We see children, so soon almost as they are born, long, I am sure, before they can speak, grow peevish, and cry for nothing but to have their wills. They would have their desires yielded to by others, those especially they come to consider under certain distinctions, which parents are generally not remiss in teaching them to make. And how very early does their desire of property and possession appear? How soon do they begin to please themselves with the power which that seems to give, and the right they thereby have to dispose of things as they will? He who has not observed these two humours working betimes in children, must have taken very little notice of their actions. And he who thinks, that these two roots of almost all the injustice, oppression, and contention, which so sadly disturb human life, are to be intirely rooted out, hath not reflected, that this love of dominion is a necessary spur to industry and improvement, and the chief spring of all our motions. Ancient masters did not therefore dream of weeding it out, but carefully applied themselves to give it a right turn, and to improve it into the noble virtues of which it is the natural principle or stock.
Now you may easily perceive, that beating or corporal punishment of any kind, was seldom used in such academies, or where it was the design of education to render the mind free, active and great, nothing being more diametrically opposite to such an end. Blows, often repeated, may produce a timorous, slavish mind, and miserably deject or debase the soul; or they may beget an inclination, a longing in young people, to have it in their power to tyranize in the same manner over others in their turn. ’Tis reason alone, i.e. accustomance to listen to and obey reason, that can form a truly rational temper, or establish reason as a governor in the mind. There is indeed no danger of misconduct, but where reason does not preside, and is not regularly consulted. And in order to bring this about, young people must from their infancy be inured to consult reason, and to feel the pleasure of governing themselves by it. The rod, which is the only instrument in government that tutors or schoolmasters generally know, or at least use, is a very short compendious way, which may at once flatter their pride, love of power and laziness, but it is the most unfit, nay the most dangerous of any that can be used in education. For extravagant young lads, who have liveliness and spirit, come sometimes to think, and taking once a right turn, seldom fail to make able and great men. But timid, low and dejected minds, are hardly ever to be raised, and so very seldom attain to any thing that is laudable, but generally prove as useless to themselves as to others. The principal rocks upon one or other of which education commonly splits, are, over-indulgence, which of course renders some favourite caressed passion too strong for reason during one’s whole life; or over-severity, which either dispirits, or begets stubbornness and a cruel disposition. And therefore, to avoid the great danger that is on either hand, must be the principal art in education. And what is this! but to keep up a child’s spirit, easy, active and free, and yet at the same time, to inure him to self-command, or to take a pleasure and pride in restraining himself from many things he has a mind to, and in undergoing many things that may be uneasy to him for the superior pleasure of doing good, and gaining at once the approbation of his own reason, and the love and esteem of his parents, masters, and all good and wise men.14 But corporal punishments cannot possibly contribute any thing to this excellent end. This kind of correction conduces not at all to the mastery of our propensity, to indulge present bodily pleasure, and to avoid present corporal pain by any means. It rather encourages and strengthens this inclination, which, in spight of the best care, must grow up with us to a considerable degree of strength. And by cherishing it, the source whence almost all the irregularities in life flow, is fed. For by what other motive, but of sensual pleasure and pain, does a child act, who drudges at his task against his inclination, or abstains from any unwholesome fruit, for instance, he likes, only out of fear of being drubb’d? He in this instance only avoids the greater present corporal pain, or prefers the greater present corporal pleasure. And is there any virtue in being influenced by such views? What can this do but invigorate a passion, which it is the business of education to destroy, or rather to prevent? Will this method beget an inclination to be actuated and guided by reason, and a higher relish for the approbation of a considerative mind, reflecting upon reasonable conduct, than for any joys mere sense can be gratified by? This sort of chastisement naturally creates an antipathy against that which it is the preceptor’s business to cherish a liking to. For how obvious is it, that children soon come to have an aversion to things, whatever pleasure they at first took in them, when they find themselves teazed, chid, or tormented about them? Nay, who is there among grown up men that would not be disgusted with any innocent recreation, if he should be forced to it by blows, threats, or abusive language, when he had no mind; or be for ever so used, for some circumstances in his application to it? If we consider the power of habit in any one instance, we will not wonder, if aversions so formed, are never, or at least not easily overcome. The very sight of a cup out of which one has often taken a nauseous potion, turns his stomach: let it be ever so clean, or made of the richest materials, and garnished with the most precious jewels, yet every thing offered in it will nauseate him. Again, such a sort of slavish discipline creates a servile temper, a soil in which no virtue can grow up to maturity; a soil, on the contrary, in which envy, revenge, and many other abominable vices naturally sprout up and pullulate. The child may submit, and dissemble obedience whilst the rod hangs over him; but when, that being removed, he can promise himself impunity, he will give, with double gust of pleasure, full swing to his disguised inclination. Generally speaking, no passion can be altered by this method, but is rather increased and corroborated. And hence it is, that after such restraint it usually breaks out with greater violence. But if any disease is thus cured, how is it, but by bringing in a much worse one in its room, which is either, low spiritedness and inactivity for want of conscious capacity, which is ever active, or a secret burning to get loose, in order to give full indulgence to appetite, and make large amends to himself for all his suffering in this rigid way, by equal austerity, or rather cruelty to others, as far as his power can reach. Thus did the famous Lockias reason, who had so accurately studied human nature, that he is said to have had a glass by which he could spy into the inmost recesses and windings of the human heart.
And Socrates is said to have had this conversation with a father who had been just whipping his son.
SOC. You love hunting, Ctesicles, I know, and your dogs are famous. You must certainly have some particular secret for breeding them.
CT. They are indeed the best I know. I could tell you many surprizing things of them.
SOC. Another time I shall be glad to hear them; for I do not think the instincts, the sagacity and docility of brutes unworthy the notice of a philosopher. One thing only at present I would gladly learn from you. Does it cost much whipping to give them a good nose, or much travel. For if it does, I am afraid I should never succeed in their education. So effeminate am I, that I cannot bear the cries even of an animal.
CT. It is good for you then, Socrates, you did not come here two minutes sooner.
SOC. You was giving some instructions with your rod to some of your dogs, I suppose.
CT. Ay, to a whelp worse to breed than any one of the race that is properly so called.
SOC. You don’t mean one of your children surely.
CT. They, you think, want no correction; or correction, you perhaps imagine, is proper discipline for brutes only. But let me tell you, that if you think so, you must be a novice indeed, as wise as you are said to be.
SOC. The oracle called me so, but why I have not yet found out—,15 unless it be for my sincere disposition to learn wisdom from every one who can teach me.—And as you have now exceedingly raised my curiosity, so I hope you will satisfy it.
CT. What would you know from me?
SOC. Only why you whipp’d your boy? whether it was to whip him into the love of knowledge, or the love of virtue? For I think these two are called the goals at which education aims.
CT. I am no stranger, Socrates, to your odd way of perplexing and confounding our celebrated pretenders to science
