among a certain number, faithfully and exclusively educated on his principles, a fair average will arise of independent thinkers,-of men of free intellect, who will do as much for their race as their master has probably done. Fluent writers, cultivated readers, ready-witted speakers, will probably issue from his schools in abundance; but for a higher order of intellect than theirs we shall have, we imagine, to look elsewhere. This system has done much by making its disciples "learn something thoroughly," which is more than can be said for some other modern systems; and, by doing this, it has opened the way for various and extensive future improvements which were not originally anticipated. Thus it is with all reforms. They do something that was intended; they fall short of much that was intended; and they ultimately effect a vast deal that never was intended. Jacotot's system will initiate many into the analytical process at the beginning instead of the middle part of their course. It will not long or advantageously keep up its practice of repetition, and it will be obliged to limit its rule of reference; but it will suggest new systems which in their turn will have partial success, and be, in due course, improved upon.

As we feel that we have scarcely sanctioned our remarks sufficiently by extracts from the Exposition of the system before us, we proceed, in justice to it and to ourselves, to give a passage in which the principles of Jacotot and the practice of the old school are contrasted with much force and truth :

"It may not be amiss to consider, in the first instance, what is generally meant by the expression-learning a thing. To learn any thing is evidently not the same as to forget it; yet we might almost imagine it were, by referring a moment to the common plan pursued in the old method. Will any one maintain that, speaking generally, at the end of his seven years or more of school instruction, he actually recollects one thousandth part of the facts that have been brought before him, or the observations that have been addressed to him, connected with the course of tuition? A considerable portion of all this combined mass of information has remained perfectly unintelligible to him, from the first moment that it was introduced to his notice, to the time at which he throws down his books and enters on the world. He perceived neither the end nor the design of it; and perhaps even the terms in which it was expressed were never thoroughly comprehended, although repeated incessantly in his hearing. In illustration of this it may be asked, Does one child in a hundred understand a single page of that book which is put into his hands as soon as he can read, and over which he pores, year after year, and at length by dint of constant repetition, has thoroughly impressed on his memory-the English Grammar?” (An exposure of the incomprehensibility of grammar rules follows.) "The same remarks will apply, more or less, to many others of the generalities which, in the common course of instruction, a pupil is called upon to learn, but which he cannot, from a want of the information previously requisite, understand. Even, however, supposing that he does actually acquire a number of useful facts, they form in his mind an indigesta moles, a shapeless mass, in which he perceives neither order nor connexion. He has not been taught by the method of Jacotot to refer every thing learned for the first time to something previously learned; and he cannot, therefore, perceive the relation which the latter bears to the former. But there must necessarily exist a relation. Unless the parts of the book committed to memory had been connected with each other in the mind of the author, he would, of course, have produced a disorderly patchwork of incoherent facts. But this is not the case, at least in any approved work; and if this be not the case, if it was necessary for the author to see clearly the end and aim of all that he proposed to write in order to convey a connected idea of the subject to the reader, it must be equally necessary for the reader, if he wishes to understand the subject as well as the author, to gain possession of

VOL. V.

the entire series of facts which compose the subject as presented to his view. This, however, cannot be done, unless the pupil is taught to connect what he learns one day with all that he has learned, relating to the same subject, on every previous day, from the time when it was first urged on his attention. But the facts forgotten cannot, of course, be connected with those remembered; though it is easily seen that, were these supplied, the whole subject would be before the mind. This leads again to the remark previously made, that scarcely a thousandth part of what is learned (using the word in its conventional sense) at school, is retained for use in the actual business of life; though this, most evidently, was the ostensible purpose throughout the entire course. If the considerations here adduced be thought to have any weight, they must evince one of two things,-either the positive incapacity of pupils of the usual scholastic age to comprehend any subject in the manner referred to, or the defectiveness of the customary method of tuition. It would be impossible, in the face of countless instances in opposition, to maintain the former assertion. If a child can be made to commit to memory and understand one sentence, for instance, there seems no physical obstacle to his doing the same with another, still retaining the first in his memory by constant repetition, and thus connecting the new fact with all that preceded it. This is the method of Jacotot, and he has proved incontestibly both the possibility and effectiveness of such a process."-As to the fitness of the old systems of education to the purposes for which instruction is valuableTwo or three facts, from which the inferences requisite to the view now intended may be drawn, are sufficiently obvious to the personal experience of all. After sedulously going through all the manoeuvres of instruction for several years, we come from school to begin our education afresh, according to the particular objects which it may be desirable for us to attain in life. We are in possession, indeed, of a vast number of facts, but they lie for the most part unconnectedly and incoherently in the mind. Of a number of others we have a loose and vague notion, just sufficient to admit of consciousness that they exist and have names attached to them, which names we know well, without knowing the things themselves. Still less, however, in these latter fragments of knowledge than in the former do we perceive any sort of coherency or natural connexion: and upon a review of the whole of our acquirements during the long time that we have been employed in making them, the feeling which takes full possession of our mind is, that nine-tenths of all that we learned has been forgotten; that we are well acquainted with no one subject whatever; and that in nearly every point which most concerns us, we are

"But, by the system of Jacotot, the faculties of the mind are kept in constant action, from the commencement to the end of the course of instruction; the first acquisitions, as well as all that succeed, are permanently retained, and accordingly every thing learned once is learned for ever."-Pp. 2—6.

If we ever learn any more languages, we shall be tempted to begin on this system, which seems to us admirably calculated to help such an achievement. Our readers will judge for themselves of the Synopsis of the Method; and as for the introduction to Latin,-the Epitome Historiæ Sacræ, -it can scarcely be too highly praised. The style rises from extreme simplicity (through a most ingenious choice of parallel idioms) to a considerable degree of involution; and the pupil is led on insensibly from phrases so inartificial that he cannot mistake them, to paragraphs of easy and even elegant Latinity. This little work, originally compiled by M. L'Homond, Emeritus Professor in the University of Paris, is used as an introduction to the Latin language in nearly all the Jacototian establishments on the continent. We give the Synopsis of the method of learning a language; and

(by way of specimen of the plan of the work) the first and last sections of the Epitome, by contrasting which the extent of the pupil's progress may be perceived:

"Make yourself master of some one book written in the language you wish to acquire: that is, commit it to memory-repeat it incessantly-take notice of every sentence, phrase, word, and syllable it contains-study and compare these facts of the language, and analyze them first in the aggregate, then in the detail, so as ultimately to obtain a thorough knowledge of their minutest elements. Refer, by continual reflection, all or any other books in the language to the one you have mastered; that is, compare every sentence, phrase, word, and syllable that you meet with afterwards with those of the book you have learned, and thus make what you know serviceable in interpreting and acquiring what you do not yet know. And, in the last place, verify the obser vations of others by what you know yourself; that is, read the remarks that have been made on the language as you find them in grammars, books of idioms, dissertations on style, &c. Try or put to the proof the correctness of these remarks, by comparing them with the general observations you have yourself made on the facts that you know: you will thus systematize your knowledge, and ultimately master the language."-Epitome, p. vii.

I.

1.

"God created the heaven and the earth within six days.

On the first day he made light. On the second day he made the firmament, which he called heaven.

On the third day he brought the waters together into one place, and drew out of the earth plants and trees.

On the fourth day he made the sun, and the moon, and the stars.

On the fifth day he made the birds which fly about in the air, and the fishes which swim in the waters.

On the sixth day he made all living creatures, lastly man, and rested on the seventh day.

192.

"After the death of Aristobulus, his son Alexander reigned. He died without performing any distinguished action, and left two sons, who contended most obstinately for the possession of the kingdom.

Pompey, the general of the Roman people, availing himself of this dissension, came into Judæa, under pretext of restoring concord between the brothers, but in reality with the design of attaching that province to the Roman empire; he rendered Judæa tributary to the Roman people.

A short time after, the kingdom of Judæa was seized by Herod, a foreigner. He was the first king of another nation that ruled over the Jews; and in his reign Jesus Christ was born, as the prophets had foretold.

LETTERS FROM GERMANY.

No. IX.

SIR,

Heidelberg. SCHELLING'S philosophy first brought into repute those metaphysicoreligious speculations which have received the name of religious philosophy. His doctrines had revived the belief that philosophy would be carried at length to its perfection, by conceiving of the natural world as existing only in the Divine Being. The author may not have intended at first to lay a foundation for Pantheism; but his system inclosed seeds which could not fail to be quickened into religious sophisms of that kind under favouring circumstances. Many speculatists of the same class have come out of his school, without assuming, however, the name of religious philosophers. The most remarkable fact is, that a class of religious mystics, both of Catholics and Protestants, have assumed that name, and affect to take Schelling's doctrine into alliance with their own religious mysticism, in order to give it an imposing and philosophical front. All, hating in their heart the Protestant principle of the right of private judgment, in their object, and the means of accomplishing it, coalesce with Jesuitism. They would build up an absolute church authority, Protestant or Catholic, and they make war upon all philosophy, and that of their assumed patron Schelling as much as the rest, where it cannot be made available to their design. This is nothing less than to restore the darkness of the middle ages. It professes to be a restoration of philosophy through religion. The extermination of science, through an alliance, defensive and offensive, between intolerance and mysticism, would describe it more justly. The ark of science must be carried off from Pagan hands, and then sunk in oblivion for ever. The design has been exposed in a recent publication by Dr. C. Seebold, (occasioned by a mystical lecture delivered at the opening of the University at Munich,) remarkable for clearness and vigour of expression. It is entitled, "Philosophy and Religious Philosophers." Connected with the particular object, it contains many passages of great general interest. I shall condense a part of what respects natural morality and religion; the spirit and design of Christianity; and its speedy obscuration after the first age of the church.

"Christianity is a purely religious doctrine. It consists solely and entirely of religious truth. Philosophy and science are foreign to its design. In the Christian Scriptures there is nothing of a scientific tendency. On the contrary, they shew what is very remote from the spirit of philosophical inquiry, a disposition to abstract contemplation, and faith in supernatural influences. After the lapse of the two first centuries, when Christianity had spread through the different nations of antiquity, and was now brought into contact and correspondence with their philosophical views, a remarkable agitation arose in the Christian world, which threatened the community of Christians hitherto united among themselves with intestine divisions. A number of conflicting parties appeared, each striving to give a philosophical structure to Christianity. The Christian faith, which had shewn till now that it contained a principle of union, and which still shewed it in what was purely religious, lost this virtue when it was invaded by the sophisms of a foreign philosophy. It included within itself no philosophical doctrine which, by its absolute authority, could impose peace on conflicting opinions. Disputes multiplied, the strife was extended without limit, and it issued in violent divisions. The entire history of the church presents a series of such pic

tures. It is remarkable that these disputes were produced much less through the old religious rites of the new converts, than through the different philosophical views which they brought along with them. Against strange religions Christianity displayed a victorious power; it had no forces to bring into the field when it was forced to mingle in the fray of philosophical systems, because its original and essential character was that of a pure religion, and no philosophical doctrine was in its elements. The fathers of the church, combining the doctrines of their schools with the facts of Christianity, formed a sort of Christian philosophy. Many of them had been educated among the Greeks, and had embraced the new Platonic philosophy. Antiquity, with its literature, was at their side. It was necessary to defend Chris-tianity against the attacks of the learned, and, unfortunately, they judged it a useful policy to arm themselves out of the magazine of the pagan philosophy. For this purpose the doctrines or the terms of New-platonism were transplanted into Christian ground. Thus the boundaries of the church may have been enlarged, but this was not the way to preserve peace within its walls. With the attempt to expound the simple Christian faith into a doctrinal system arose new conflicts. And how could it be otherwise? In Christianity itself there was no philosophical doctrine which could prescribe the rule, or prevent the application of the new philosophy. To supply the supposed want, the dogma of church unity was assumed. This must be maintained by the decisions of councils convoked for the purpose: church authority must be consolidated, and the foundation was laid of that Roman Catholic Church which was to bind in fetters of iron for centuries both philosophy and Christianity. The supposed necessity of defending the Christian faith by philosophical reasonings, had now ceased to exist. The pagan world was converted, and the building of the church stood firm. The last remains of ancient science gradually disappeared; the spirit of philosophical speculation was departed; even in the theological school of Alexandria it was no more. The better part of the popes and ecclesiastics offered some opposition to the prevailing darkness; but without effect. Even Charlemagne was able to preserve a trembling light but for a short time. New articles were added to the public creed, and all now rested securely, but separately, on the traditions of the church, when John Damascenus, with the help of the Aristotelian philosophy, constructed them into one system.""The oldest religions were theocratical. Under their authority the rude inhabitants of the earth were composed into social states, and their natural ferocity was made to bend to the necessary conditions of peace and good order. Accordingly, the laws of morality and of religion and civil ordinances were bound together in one code, and the commandment which enjoined a moral duty was coupled with precepts that respected cleanliness and diet. This mixture of laws gave to these religions and their priests great influence over the people. But it was impossible that they should not prepare an easy entrance for many positive ordinances which would ultimately usurp the place of moral duties. Christianity removed the whole leaven; religion was purified from the earthly mixture; and morality began to blossom and put forth its fruits and authenticate the faith that bore them. But the purity of Christian doctrine was not to be of long duration. It was soon filled with dogmas and loaded with precepts, like the ancient religions of the priesthood. The ecclesiastics coveted power, and would that their religion should be all in all. The moral religion must retreat; and instead of the command of duty, the prescription of the church must be obeyed. The belief that moral instruction had no other basis than the doctrines of their church was