in the third, ‘do you not see that your father does so and so?’ in the fourth, ‘you are little, and this is only fit for grown-up people;’ in the fifth, ’the chief matter is that you should succeed in the world, and become something in the state;’ in the sixth, ’not the temporary, but the eternal, determines the worth of a man;’ in the seventh, ‘therefore rather suffer injustice, and be kind;’ in the eighth, ‘but defend yourself bravely if any one attack you;’ in the ninth, ‘do not make a noise, dear child;’ in the tenth, ’a boy must not sit so quiet;’ in the eleventh, ’you must obey your parents better;’ in the twelfth, ‘and educate yourself.’  So by the hourly change of his principles, the father conceals their untenableness and onesidedness.  As for his wife, she is neither like him, nor yet like that harlequin who came on to the stage with a bundle of papers under each arm, and answered to the inquiry, what he had under his right arm, ‘orders,’ and to what he had under his left arm, ‘counter-orders.’  But the mother might be much better compared to a giant Briareus, who had a hundred arms, and a bundle of papers under each.”

This state of things is not to be readily changed.  Generations must pass before a great amelioration of it can be expected.  Like political constitutions, educational systems are not made, but grow; and within brief periods growth is insensible.  Slow, however, as must be any improvement, even that improvement implies the use of means; and among the means is discussion.

* * * * *

We are not among those who believe in Lord Palmerston’s dogma, that “all children are born good.”  On the whole, the opposite dogma, untenable as it is, seems to us less wide of the truth.  Nor do we agree with those who think that, by skilful discipline, children may be made altogether what they should be.  Contrariwise, we are satisfied that though imperfections of nature may be diminished by wise management, they cannot be removed by it.  The notion that an ideal humanity might be forthwith produced by a perfect system of education, is near akin to that implied in the poems of Shelley, that would mankind give up their old institutions and prejudices, all the evils in the world would at once disappear:  neither notion being acceptable to such as have dispassionately studied human affairs.

Nevertheless, we may fitly sympathise with those who entertain these too sanguine hopes.  Enthusiasm, pushed even to fanaticism, is a useful motive-power—­perhaps an indispensable one.  It is clear that the ardent politician would never undergo the labours and make the sacrifices he does, did he not believe that the reform he fights for is the one thing needful.  But for his conviction that drunkenness is the root of all social evils, the teetotaler would agitate far less energetically.  In philanthropy, as in other things, great advantage results from division of labour; and that there may be division of labour, each class of philanthropists must be more or less subordinated to its function—­must have an exaggerated faith in its work.  Hence, of those who regard education, intellectual or moral, as the panacea, we may say that their undue expectations are not without use; and that perhaps it is part of the beneficent order of things that their confidence cannot be shaken.