This man, full grown at birth, would also be unable to stand on his feet, he would need a long time to learn how to keep his balance; perhaps he would not even be able to try to do it, and you would see the big strong body left in one place like a stone, or creeping and crawling like a young puppy.

He would feel the discomfort of bodily needs without knowing what was the matter and without knowing how to provide for these needs.  There is no immediate connection between the muscles of the stomach and those of the arms and legs to make him take a step towards food, or stretch a hand to seize it, even were he surrounded with it; and as his body would be full grown and his limbs well developed he would be without the perpetual restlessness and movement of childhood, so that he might die of hunger without stirring to seek food.  However little you may have thought about the order and development of our knowledge, you cannot deny that such a one would be in the state of almost primitive ignorance and stupidity natural to man before he has learnt anything from experience or from his fellows.

We know then, or we may know, the point of departure from which we each start towards the usual level of understanding; but who knows the other extreme?  Each progresses more or less according to his genius, his taste, his needs, his talents, his zeal, and his opportunities for using them.  No philosopher, so far as I know, has dared to say to man, “Thus far shalt thou go and no further.”  We know not what nature allows us to be, none of us has measured the possible difference between man and man.  Is there a mind so dead that this thought has never kindled it, that has never said in his pride, “How much have I already done, how much more may I achieve?  Why should I lag behind my fellows?”

As I said before, man’s education begins at birth; before he can speak or understand he is learning.  Experience precedes instruction; when he recognises his nurse he has learnt much.  The knowledge of the most ignorant man would surprise us if we had followed his course from birth to the present time.  If all human knowledge were divided into two parts, one common to all, the other peculiar to the learned, the latter would seem very small compared with the former.  But we scarcely heed this general experience, because it is acquired before the age of reason.  Moreover, knowledge only attracts attention by its rarity, as in algebraic equations common factors count for nothing.  Even animals learn much.  They have senses and must learn to use them; they have needs, they must learn to satisfy them; they must learn to eat, walk, or fly.  Quadrupeds which can stand on their feet from the first cannot walk for all that; from their first attempts it is clear that they lack confidence.  Canaries who escape from their cage are unable to fly, having never used their wings.  Living and feeling creatures are always learning.  If plants could walk they would