READ BEFORE THE ALBANY INSTITUTE, AT ITS LAST REGULAR BY A MEMBER OF THE THIRD DEPARTMENT "The humble effort of an inquirer after knowledge NEW YORK: E. BLISS, 111 BROADWAY. SLEIGHT AND ROBINSON, PRINTERS. 1831. HARVARD UNIVERSITY EADUATE SCHOOL OF EDUCATION MONROE C GUTMAN LIBRARY GRADUATE SCHOOL OF EDUCATION JUL 14 1926 Special collections hB675 •J356 SOME ACCOUNT OF THE JACOTOT SYSTEM OF UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTION. THE methods by which men of genius or reflection have attempted to aid the cause of education, are as varying as the "mind of desultory man." Education has advanced from the rank of art to that of science, since it is satisfactorily ascertained that we must as well be taught to teach as taught to learn. The titles of many hundred works on this subject might be enumerated, in which are to be found the gravest discussions and the wildest reveries. But we imagine all theories may be tested by their adaptation to, or rejection of, those two principles of the human mind—the reason and the memory. No system can effectually operate upon any other with the hope of positive and permanent advantage. The memory alone, be its impressions ever so strong, would be like a loaded car, making no progress in the march of intellect, without a moving and direct ing power to bring its valuable articles to the places where they are wanted. On the other hand, the mere rational power, though by its momentum it might overthrow, or its rapidity astonish us, yet, without a proper train of solid and valuable effects, would be useless in the career of science, and carry with it a universal terror of its unrestrained energies. In this view of the inutility of mere memory, a remarkable instance may be adduced in the person of the celebrated Florentine librarian, Magliabecchi. His tenacious memory enabled him to recall, at pleasure, the titles and general purport of the books in the immense library under his care. But while he was able to give to the learned who visited him every information they required, his prodigious powers of memory were of no benefit to himself. Nor did he enlighten mankind by this great knowledge of books. He left nothing behind him but a catalogue, and a medal. On this he was represented sitting amidst a great number of books, and the inscription, which he himself furnished, contained these singularly appropriate words: "It is not sufficient to become learned, to have read much, if we read without reflection." In the words of a writer of the present day, who has both read and reflected, he was a living library, but a dark lantern. Shakspeare, who, happily for his fame, and perhaps not undeservedly for his merit, is now quoted, not only as the illustrator of human life in all its stages, but as the elucidator of the nicest differences which are disco verable in its passions, and its philosophy, offers, if we mistake not, an appropriate instance of our meaning in the celebrated play of Hamlet. In that composition— which has employed the whole energies of German and English critics to explore its depths of feeling; to illustrate its profound views of human nature; to point out its splendid imagery and its beautiful appropriateness of language, so suited to the action of its hero-we may find, without difficulty, the requisite illustration of the fact. In the scene with the ghost, where the horrible tale of incest and murder is revealed to the young prince, and the solemn injunction to pursue the act of justice is pressed upon him by Denmark's buried majesty, in that soul-moving passage which concludes with the farewell words, Remember me, Hamlet is urged to avenge the manes of his father. In order to insure the remembrance of the solemn injunctions, he calls up his utmost powers of muscle and mind. He remembers, he thinks, he reasons, he resolves. He determines To wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressure past, By this coincidence of memory, and the reasoning powers, and by which the remembrance is fixed and justified, he never forgets the request, and pursues the fearful duty of revenging his father's murder. His judgment, his reason, goes hand in hand with the recollection of 'the deep damnation of his taking off.' That system, therefore, |