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<h1>Rousseau and American Educational Scholarship</h1>
<h3>An Incomplete Working Draft</h3>
<h3>by Robbie McClintock</h3>
<blockquote>Unpublished: Written Fall 1980. The third section was published in
Spanish, "El nacimiento de la historia de la educación: Los antecedents alemanes
de la pedagogía historica." <i>Revista de Educación</i>. Fall 1985.</blockquote>
</div>
<h3>I—A Vaccine for the Virus</h3>
<div class="nums">
<blockquote>This unpublished essay was drafted in 1980/81. "Section
III—Historical Pedagogy, The German Background" was published in a Spanish
translation as "El nacimiento de la historia de la educación: Los antecedents
alemanes de la pedagogía historica." <i>Revista de Educación</i>. Fall
1985.</blockquote>
<ref>Jean-Jacques Rousseau. <i>Emile, or Education</i>. Allan Bloom, trans. New
York: Basic Books, 1979.</ref>
<p>To begin,
however, let us note a salient fact—in 1979, Allan Bloom, a political theorist,
published the first complete, high-quality translation of Rousseau's
<i>Émile</i>.<span class="cite"></span> That a political theorist did the
translation was not an accident, for in political thought Rousseau is a
significant presence, a problem, a stimulus, a fit subject for good minds. In
educational thought, the situation is entirely different. In schools of
education, Rousseau appears neatly niched; to his name are associated an epitome
of dead ideas that some occasionally draw on to embellish this or that current
cause. That the new translation of <i>Émile</i>, so long so sorely needed,
turned out to be the work of a political theorist, not an educational theorist,
betokens how scholars in schools of education have failed to care for the
humanistic heritage of their field. To improve the quality of education, to make
thoughtfulness and sensitivity the norm among teachers and professionals, this
situation needs to change, and such change will be no easy task.</p>
<ref>I have in mind here the following: Roger D. Masters, <i>The Political
Philosophy of Rousseau</i> (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1968); Lester
G. Crocker, <i>Rousseau's Social Contract: An Interpretative Essay</i>
(Cleveland: The Press of Case Western Reserve University, 1968); Judith N.
Shklar, Men and <i>Citizens: A Study of Rousseau's Social Theory</i> Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1969); Anne M. Cohler, <i>Rousseau and
Nationalism</i> (New York: Basic Books, 1970); Ronald Grimsley, "Introduction,"
to Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Du Contrat Social (Oxford: Clarendon, Press, 1972);
David Cameron, <i>The Social Thought of Rousseau and Burke: A Comparative
Study</i> (Toronto:, University of, Toronto Press, 1973); John C. Hall,
<i>Rousseau: An Introduction to his Political Philosophy</i> (London: The
Macmillan Press, <i>1973);</i> Merle L. Perkins, <i>Jean-Jacques Rousseau on the
Individual and Society</i> (Lexington: The University of Kentucky Press, 1974);
John Charvet, <i>The Social Problem in the Philosophy of Rousseau</i>
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1974); Kennedy F. Roche, <i>Rousseau:
Stoic and Romantic</i> (London: Methuen &amp; Co., 1974); Andrew Levine, <i>The
Politics of Autonomy : A Kantian Reading of Rousseau's Social Contract</i>
(Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1976); Stephen Ellenburg,
<i>Rousseau's Political Philosophy: An Interpretation from Within</i> (Ithaca:
Cornell University Press, <i>1976);</i> Madeleine B. Ellis, <i>Rousseau's
Socratic Aemelian Myths: A Literary Collation of Emile and the Social
Contract</i> (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1977); Ramon M. Lemos
<i>Rousseau's Political Philosophy: An Exposition and Interpretation</i>
(Athens: The University of Georgia Press, 1977); Julius Steinberg, <i>Locke,
Rousseau, and the Idea of Consent: An Inquiry into the Liberal-Democratic Theory
of Political Obligation</i> (Westport, CN: Greenwood Press, 1978); and Richard
Fralin, <i>Rousseau and Representation: A Study of the Development of His
Concept of Political Institutions</i> (New York: Columbia University Press,
1978). In addition, the recent noteworthy translations of Rousseau have been by
scholars concerned with his social and political thought. See along with Bloom's
<i>Émile</i>, his other translation, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, <i>Politics and the
Arts: Letter to M. D'Alembert on the Theatre</i> (Allan Bloom, trans., Ithaca:
Cornell University Press, 1960); Jean-Jacques Rousseau, <i>The First and Second
Discourses</i> (Roger D. Masters, ed. and Judith R. Masters, trans. New York:
St. Martin's Press, 1964); Jean-Jacques Rousseau, <i>On the Social Contract with
Geneva Manuscript and Political Economy</i> (Roger D. Masters, ed. and Judith R.
Masters, trans., New York: St. Martin's Press, 1978); and Ben Barber's
translation of <i>Narcisse</i>.</ref>
<ref>Mabel Lewis Sahakian and William S. Sahakian, <i>Rousseau as Educator</i>
(New York: Twayne Publishers, 1974). This is an unbelievably bad book. For a
sample of its acumen, try page 105: Rousseau "anticipated the Puritan ethic in
his statement that, rich or poor, everyone should work, for only a cheat does
not work." On being asked to review this work, I decided not to on having read
it with dismay, thinking that the less said about it the better--alas an error.
It has found its way, however, into the bibliography of <i>Doctrines of the
Great Educators</i> by Robert R. Rusk and James Scotland (5th ed. New York: St.
Martin's Press, 1979). There in a nut shell is the weakness of the field,
incompetent secondary studies and undiscriminating texts.</ref>
</ref>See Terrence Edward Cook, "Rousseau: Educations and Politics" (Ph.D.
Dissertation, Princeton University, Department of Politics, 1971). This
dissertation deals with its subject well and is far more informative about
Rousseau's educational thought than William Boyd's long-dated, but never
replaced, study, <i>The Educational Theory of Jean Jacques Rousseau</i> (1911)
(New York: Russell &amp; Russell, 1963). According to <i>Dissertation
Abstracts</i>, there have been relatively few dissertations on Rousseau
classified in Education, and some of these are of the type of Plato, Rousseau,
and Dewey and their Significance for Physical Education. Perhaps the strongest
of those done in Education on Rousseau is by Fred D Kierstead, Jr., "Education
for a Transitional Democracy: A Comparison of Jean Jacques Rousseau's Concept of
the General Will to John Dewey's Concept of Collective Intelligence" (Ph.D.
Dissertation, The University of Oklahoma, 1974). Although Kierstead's
dissertation is ambitious in the range of work mobilized in it, his treatment of
Rousseau is largely dependent on a rather limited secondary literature, and as a
result, however interesting it is, it breaks no new ground.</ref>
<ref>Grace Goodyear Roosevelt. "Rousseau on War, Peace, and Education" (Ed.D.
Dissertation, Columbia University, Teachers College, 1987).</ref>
<ref>See Terrence Edward Cook. "Rousseau: Education and Politics" (Ph.D.
Dissertation, Princeton University, Department of Politics, 1971). This
dissertation deals with its subject well and is far more informative about
Rousseau's educational thought than William Boyd's long-dated, but never
replaced, study, <i>The Educational Theory of Jean Jacques Rousseau</i> (1911)
(New York: Russell &amp; Russell, 1963). According to <i>Dissertation
Abstracts</i>, there have been relatively few dissertations on Rousseau
classified in Education, and some of these are of the type of Plato, Rousseau,
and Dewey and their Significance for Physical Education. Perhaps the strongest
of those done in Education on Rousseau is by Fred D Kierstead, Jr., "Education
for a Transitional Democracy: A Comparison of Jean Jacques Rousseau's Concept of
the General Will to John Dewey's Concept of Collective Intelligence" (Ph.D.
Dissertation, The University of Oklahoma, 1974). Although Kierstead's
dissertation is ambitious in the range of work mobilized in it, his treatment of
Rousseau is largely dependent on a rather limited secondary literature, and as a
result, however interesting it is, it breaks no new ground.</ref>
<p>In recent
years, scholars writing in English have contributed much significant commentary
on Rousseau's thought, his educational ideas included. Virtually none of it has
been by scholars based in schools of education. Almost all of it has been by
scholars concerned essentially with Rousseau's political and social thought,
most of whom have academic bases in departments of politics or government. For
instance, during the decade prior to publication of Bloom's <i>Émile</i>,
scholars published at least sixteen books in which they sought to illuminate
Rousseau's political and social thought, all serious, thorough studies in which
the authors marshal a full command of Rousseau's corpus.<span
class="cite"></span> In contrast, during this period, scholars in the field of
education published only one new book, <i>Rousseau as Educator</i> by Mabel
Lewis Sahakian and William S. Sahakian, an execrable essay fraught with errors,
dated scholarship, and trivial commentary.<span class="cite"></span> The
comparison is no better if one looks at dissertations the same period. Terrence
Edward Cook's "Rousseau: Education and Politics," a Ph.D. dissertation at
Princeton, is a lucid study, far more informative about Rousseau's educational
thought than William Boyd's long-dated, but never supplanted, study from 1911,
<i>The Educational Theory of Jean Jacques Rousseau</i>.<span
class="cite"></span> The few dissertation dealing with Rousseau and categorized
in the field of education show a thin command of the serious scholarship on
Rousseau and often scant command, for that matter, of the French language. The
author of the best dissertation done at a graduate school of education chose to
categorize her work under political science,<span class="cite"></span> and the
only dissertation in recent years devoted to a thorough assessment of Rousseau's
educational theory was done at Princeton University for a Ph.D. in the
Department of Politics.<span class="cite"></span> Although work on the history
of American education has improved in the past two decades, scholarship on the
Western heritage of educational thought remains decrepit. Why is Rousseau a
hollow shell in the study of education?</p>
<ref>V. D. Musset-Pathay had edited what was then the best edition of Rousseau's
writings. His name did not appear on the title page of the first edition,
<i>Histoire de la Vie et des Ouvrages de J.-J. Rousseau</i>. (2 vols. Paris:
J.-M. Eberhart, 1821).</ref>
<ref>Marc Girardin (Saint-Marc Girardin), 1801-1873, was an influential critic
and Professor at the Sorbonne. His essays on Rousseau appeared posthumously in
book form, Saint-Marc Girardin, <i>Jean-Jacques Rousseau: Sa Vie et sea
Ouvrages</i> (2 vols. Paris: Charpentier, 1875).</ref>
<ref>Charles-Augustin Sainte-Beuve, 1804-1869, was a most influential critic. An
early appreciation of Romanticism, he cooled towards it in the 1830's. His
<i>Causeries du lundi</i> appeared weekly between 1849 and 1869. During the
1850's, the time in which he had most to say about Rousseau, Sainte-Beuve
supported Louis Napoleon. The quotation comes from "Jean-Jacques Rousseau's
<i>Confessions," Causeries du lundi</i>, 4 November 1850, as translated by
Francis Steegmuller and Norbert Gutterman in <i>Sainte-Beuve: Selected
Essays</i> (Garden City: Doubleday &amp; Co., 1963, p. 207).</ref>
<ref>See Madame D'Epinay, <i>Mémoires et Correspondance</i> (3 vols. Paris:
Brunet Librarie, 1818), particularly volume 2. For the textual history of this
work, see the introduction by Georges Roth to <i>Histoire de Madame de
Montbrillant: Les pseudo-Mémoires de Madame D'Epinay</i> (3 vols. Paris:
Gallimard, 1951) Vol. 1, pp. vii-xlii.</ref>
<ref>In 1891, Henri Beaudouin published the last of this type of work in French,
striving with vast detail to give a full and dispassionate presentation in <i>La
vie et les oeuvres de Jean-Jacques Rousseau</i> (2 vols. Paris: Lamulle &amp;
Poisson). Beaudouin's research was not really sufficiently thorough nor was his
presentation sufficiently artful for the work to have much impact, one way or
another, on the estimate of Rousseau's character and thought. In the early
twentieth century, more narrowly defined studies, particularly some of the great
thematic studies of Rousseau's work, would be much more significant.</ref>
<p>To begin
answering that question, we need to go back to the nineteenth century. Then,
<i>ad hominem</i> reactions to the man heavily influenced most interpretations
of Rousseau's work. Throughout the nineteenth century, the major French studies
appeared all with variations of a single title, Rousseau's life and work, and in
all of them, the assessment of Rousseau's work depended essentially on whether
the author found probity in Rousseau's life. The first of them, <i>Histoire de
la vie et des ouvrages de J.-J. Rousseau</i>, published in 1821, V. D.
Musset-Pathay articulated a very positive judgment of the life.<span
class="cite"></span> For a time it set the tone for criticism of Rousseau, but
even in his life, Rousseau had made many enemies, and as sensibility changed,
their animosity became renewed. Consequently, the second major assessment of
Rousseau's life and work, published between 1852 and 1856 in the <i>Revue des
Deux Mondes</i>, <i>Jean-Jacques Rousseau: Sa vie et sea ouvrages</i> by M.
Saint-Marc Girardin, reflected a much more negative estimate of the life.<span
class="cite"></span> As these essays showed, a general cooling towards Rousseau
had set in among French critics, a cooling which had taken hold as Romanticism
went out of fashion. Sainte-Beuve, a most influential tastemaker, recognizing
Rousseau's literary genius, had nevertheless expressed strong doubts about
Rousseau's character. "It is unfortunate, of course, that such achievements are
tinged with overweening pride and misanthropy, and that a note of cynicism
spoils many a passage of charm and beauty."<span class="cite"></span> Those
disposed to disparage Rousseau took the purported <i>Mémoires</i> of Madame
D'Epinay to be compelling, first-hand evidence of his failings.<span
class="cite"></span> To assess his ideas properly, the predominant critics
believed these memoirs needed be recognized and weighed as essential sources on
Rousseau's character.<span class="cite"></span></p>
<ref>James Boswell, <i>The Life of Samuel Johnson</i> (3 vols., London:
Macmillan and Co., 1922), vol. 1, pp. 375-6. A good description of Rousseau's
stay in England will be found in Jean Guéhenno, <i>Jean-Jacques Rousseau</i>
(John and Doreen Weightman, trans., 2 vols., New York: Columbia University
Press, 1966), vol. 2, pp. 160-203. The stay and the resultant quarrel with Hume
has been covered extensively in the <i>Annales de la Société Jean-Jacques
Rousseau</i>. See Vol. 6, 1910, pp. 1-313 (Louis-J. Courtois; Vol. 17, 1926, pp.
13-51 (Albert Schinz and Frederick A. Pottle); Vol. 18, 1927-28, pp. 1-331
(Margaret Hill Peoples); and Vol. 32, 1950-1952, pp. 143-154 (L.-A.
Boiteux).</ref>
<ref>Edmund Burke, "Letter to a Member of the National Assembly," in Burke,
<i>Reflections on the Revolution in</i> France (A.J. Grieve, ed., London:
Everyman's Library, 1910, 1960), p. 263; cf. pp. 262-268. For the enduring
influence of Burke's outburst on English views of Rousseau, see Sir Leslie
Stephen, <i>History of English Thought in the Eighteenth Century</i> (2 vols.,
New York: Harbinger Books, 1962), vol. 2, pp. 156-165, 183-191, where he very
much takes Burkes part against Rousseau. Edmund Gosse contributed as useful
survey, "Rousseau en Angleterre au XIXe siècle," to <i>Annales Rousseau</i>,
Vol. 8, 1912, pp. 131-160. He is strongest on the early part of the nineteenth
century and writes, p. 156, "Ainsi Rousseau, qui, en 1800, était considers en
Angleterre meme par ses ennemis, comme le plus enchanteur des écrivains, était,
en 1835, tombé dans 1'opinion publique au point d'être regardé comme méprisable,
indigne d'être cité par les gens qui se respectaient et d'être lu autrement
qu'en cachette."</ref>
<ref>John Morley, <i>Rousseau</i> (2nd. ed., 1878, London: Macmillan and Co.,
1910).</ref>
<p>If the
French were having trouble appreciating Rousseau in the mid to late nineteenth
century, it would be improbable that the English would esteem him more highly.
Rousseau himself had left behind, on his departure from England in 1767, a
damaging impression on British opinion: to wit, Samuel Johnson—"If you mean to
be serious, I think him one of the worst of men; a rascal, who ought to be
haunted out of society.... Rousseau, Sir, is a very bad man. I would sooner sign
a sentence for his transportation, than that of any felon who has gone from the
Old Bailey these many years. Yes, I should like to have him work in the
plantations."<span class="cite"></span> Further, Edmund Burke had bitterly
castigated the principles of Rousseau's thought and the lack of principles in
his life, making both emblematic of the worst aspects of the French Revolution.
Burke's criticism was passionately <i>ad hominem:</i> "As I had good opportunity
of knowing his proceedings almost from day to day, he left no doubt on my mind
that he entertained no principle either to influence his heart, or to guide his
understanding, but <i>vanity.... </i>It was from the same, deranged, eccentric
vanity, that this, the insane <i>Socrates</i> of the National Assembly, was
impelled to publish a mad confession of his mad faults, and to attempt a new
sort of glory from bringing hardily to light the obscure and vulgar vices, which
we know may sometimes be blended with eminent talents."<span
class="cite"></span> Victorian thinkers could easily concur in such reactions.
Hence, in 1873, the most artful, telling of the <i>ad hominem</i> summations of
Rousseau's life and work appeared, not in French, but in English <i>Rousseau</i>
by John Morley.<span class="cite"></span> This book exerted tremendous
influence.</p>
<ref>Ibid., vol. 2, p. 192; cf., p. 151. On Morley, the fullest recent study is
by D.A. Hamer, John <i>Morley: Liberal Intellectual in Politics</i> (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1968). Edward Alexander's book, <i>John Morley</i> (New York:
Twayne Publishers, 1972), gives a concise exposition of Morley's major
works.</ref>
<ref>Morley tried to show positive aspects in Rousseau's relation to Therese
Levaseur (Vol. 1, pp. 95-131), and he dealt sympathetically with Rousseau during
the years of persecution between 1762 and 1766. In these situations his man was
down, and propping him up would be safe. Morley did not, however, make a serious
effort to comprehend Rousseau's development during his early years, and, in
retrospect, Morley was insufficiently critical of apparent evidence concerning
Rousseau's relations to Diderot and Grimm. Overall, however, Morley succeeded in
creating an appearance of sound evenhandedness in writing on Rousseau. To some
in Morley's immediate audience, Rousseau was so beyond the pale that the act of
writing a book on his life, an ambitious book crafted to be read, was itself a
dangerous form of rehabilitation. Thus a reviewer in <i>The Saturday Review:</i>
"for our own part, we cannot help thinking that the personal history of this
unhappy creature belongs to the order of things which it is as well to leave
underground, and to stir as little as possible" (Jan. 31, 1874, p. 152). The
ground having been stirred, the reviewer proceeded to try to convince readers to
put Rousseau back underground, concluding, "done into plain prose, Rousseau
becomes not only an exceedingly contemptible, but really a very commonplace,
humbug.... He was a lazy, selfish, dirty, lying, canting, ill-conditioned
vagabond, who shirked honest work, accepted alms and snarled at the hands that
fed him, and whined and raved against the world because he was himself such a
nasty and ignoble creature" (p. 154). Against such a background, Morley's book
could easily appear as a standard work of dispassionate scholarship. As late as
1912, Edmund Gosse could still praise it in the highest terms in "Rousseau en
Angleterre au XIXe siècle," op. cit. (n. 11), p. 159. Gosse did note, however,
that "ce qui est assez curieux, c'est que le livre de Morley, bien qu'il ait eu
un trés grand succés de vente, n'ait guére réussi—ranimer en Grande-Bretagne
l'intéret pour l'étude de Rousseau." A close reading of Morley's
<i>Rousseau</i>, however, shows that such a revitalization was not Morley's
intent.</ref>
<p>John Morley
believed that ideas have a great effect in history and that criticism is a form
of public action through which a man of strong will and sound intellect can
exercise leadership on the course of events.  Further, he found the proper view
of government "in the magnificent and immortal pieces of Burke," and shared with
that commentator the conviction that Rousseau's work had had a pernicious
influence on the French Revolution.<span class="cite"></span> Moreover, Rousseau
was vulnerable: his works were no longer widely read and to Victorian
sensibilities, much that Rousseau bared in his <i>Confessions</i> was highly
prejudicial. Morley struck hard at Rousseau. He contrived <i>Rousseau</i> with
mastery; given his purpose, his control was perfect. He wrote like a very angry
boxer bent on meting mortal damage, delivering a series of punishing blows and
then propping up his opponent for a time so that the hated object can recover
sufficiently to absorb more punishment, again and again, until no more can be
absorbed. Morley's criticism thus flowed in waves of negation spaced by
interludes in which he recognized certain minor positive aspects of the man and
his work.<span class="cite"></span></p>
<ref>There are some interesting reflections on what it would mean to hold
someone like Rousseau to be insane in a strict meaning of the word in a
three-part review of Morley's <i>Rousseau</i> in <i>The Literary World</i>,
April 11, 25, and May 2, 1873, esp. p. 265 (April 25).</ref>
<ref>Morley, <i>Rousseau</i>, op. cit. (n. 12), pp. 192-5.</ref>
<p>Over all,
the <i>ad hominem</i> tradition in the Rousseau scholarship of the late
nineteenth century cast his life and work in a very negative light. Rousseau
possessed genius, an idiosyncratic genius more significant for its effects, good
and bad, than for its substance. Rousseau's intellect was weak, his emotions and
intuitions strong, his was character flawed, his psyche unstable, if not
insane.<span class="cite"></span> His works, in the view of commentators like
Morley, do not stand up to criticism; they are significant, not in their own
right, but through the historical accident that they strengthened certain great
developments that were already underway and later to bear fruit. Typical is
Morley's final appreciation of the <i>Social Contract</i>, voiced with "no
attempt to palliate either the shallowness or the practical mischievousness of"
it. Yet, Morley granted, the book did help to encourage good people to strive
after freedom, to rekindle "the fire of patriotism," to seek the common social
good, and to oppose the exploitation of the weak. Credit not Rousseau, however:
"in these ways the author of the <i>Social Contract</i> did involuntarily and
unconsciously contribute to the growth of those new and progressive ideas, 4g
which for his own part he lacked all faith."<span class="cite"></span></p>
<ref>Peter Gay, in his useful bibliographical essay, "Reading About Rousseau,"
<i>The Party of Humanity</i> (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1964), esp. pp. 217-8
on Morley, notes the ill effects on the understanding of Rousseau's thought of
the nineteenth-century proclivity to partisanship, pro and con. See also the
remark by Gosse quoted above in n. 14. After the first wave of translations in
the 1760' and 1770's, there were virtually no translations of Rousseau into
English until the end of the nineteenth-century, judging from Jean Sénelier's
<i>Biblioqraphie générale des oeuvres de J.-J. Rousseau</i> (Paris: Presses
Universitaires de France, 1950), a not entirely reliable source. The intention
embodied in the late nineteenth-century translations of Emile will be discussed
below.</ref>
<ref>Morley, <i>Rousseau</i>, op. cit. (n. 12), Vol. 1, p. 88-9: "Rousseau was a
man of singular genius, and he set an extraordinary mark on Europe, but this
mark would have been very different if he had ever mastered any one system of
thought, of if he had ever fully grasped what systematic thinking means.... In
short, Rousseau has distinctions in abundance, but the distinction of knowing
how to think, in the exact sense of that term, was hardly among them...." Ibid.,
p. 186: "Rousseau was always apt to think in a slipshod manner. He sensibly
though illogically accepted wholesome practical maxims, as if they flowed from
theoretical premises that were in truth utterly incompatible with them." Vol. 2,
p. 137: "Let us here remark that it was exactly what strikes us as the desperate
absurdity of the assumptions of the <i>Social Contract</i>, which constituted
the power of that work, when it accidentally fell into the hands of men who
surveyed a national system wrecked in all its parts. The <i>Social Contract</i>
is worked out precisely in that fashion which, if it touches men at all, makes
them into fanatics."</ref>
<p>Throughout
Morley's <i>Rousseau</i>, and other works like it, the intended effect was to
discourage the close study of Rousseau's work.<span class="cite"></span>
Morley's own criticisms of Rousseau's books were extremely casual and
sententious. In writing about Rousseau's more substantial works, Morley
contented himself with brief, slipshod exposition, followed with rotund
disquisitions on the error of Rousseau's points, however misstated, all this, a
prelude to his own explanation of what Rousseau should have thought, had
Rousseau been capable of right thinking and right living. Rousseau could infect
others, owing to the gift of a brilliant style, and therefore the vaccine
against potential contagion needed to be developed. But Rousseau could not
reason systematically and there was no cumulative body of thought, carefully
wrought, for which he stood, for he lacked the disposition and training, the
character or intellect, to achieve such a work, and therefore Rousseau need not
be studied.<span class="cite"></span> Rousseau reduced to the involuntary and
unconscious voice of certain progressive movements is precisely where the
Rousseau of the schools of education has since remained.</p>
<ref><i>The American Journal of Education</i>, Vol. 5, 1858, pp. 459. The
introductory material (pp. 459-462) is unsigned and not distinguished in format
from the translation from Raumer on Rousseau, pp. 463-485. It is clearly not
from Raumer's much more extensive and accurate introductory material; see, Karl
von Raumer, <i>Geschichte der Pädagogik vom wiederaufblühen klassischer Studien
bis auf unsere Zeit</i> (5th ed., 3 vols., Gétersloh: Verlag von G. Bertelsmann,
1879), vol. 2, pp. 153-180. Richard Emmons Thursfield, in his excellent study,
<i>Henry Barnard's American Journal of Education</i> (Baltimore: The Johns
Hopkins Press, 1945), p. 145, n. 22, attributes it to Barnard. The exposition in
these pages is extremely compressed and the tone is prophylactic, and there are
quite a number of inaccuracies; for instance, Rousseau lived at the Hermitage
"about ten years" and he composed the <i>Discourse on Inequality</i> while
visiting Geneva; in Venice he lived "a shamelessly vicious life" and Madame de
Warens found Rousseau employment as a tutor because she was "disgusted by his
unfaithfulness" to her, and so on. If these pages were by Barnard, an eyebrow
might be raised in doubt over his ability as an historian.</ref>
<ref><i>The American Journal of Education</i>, Vol. 5, 1858, pp. 485.</ref>
<p>During the
latter half of the nineteenth century, Rousseau's educational thought received
considerable attention. In 1858, Henry Barnard published a partial translation
of the chapter on Rousseau from Karl von Raumer's <i>Geschichte der
Pädagogik</i>. Barnard himself prefaced it with a brief survey of Rousseau's
life, as survey full of misinformation and very hostile in tone "With these
wretched early habits, which had strengthened his natural evil tendencies, ...
he entered upon the vagrant and unhappy series of wanderings and adventures
which might have been expected."<span class="cite"></span> Raumer, too, was no
enthusiastic Rousseauist. <i>Émile</i> was a problem for nineteenth-century
educators. One could not ignore it; but even more, one could not follow it.
Raumer closed his exposition of <i>Émile</i> with a caution that would apply,
not only to his, but also to most ensuing presentations. "The sketch which I
have given of <i>Émile</i> will be made clearer by regarding it as a book at
once instructive and corrupting.... Rousseau is corrupting, because he mingles
truth and falsehood, good and evil, in the most cunning manner; so that good and
bad are to be distinguished only by an exceedingly watchful and critical reader.
I close with repeating my wish, that the proceeding sketch, and the subjoined
remarks, may assist the reader in such a critical separation."<span
class="cite"></span> All the early treatments of Rousseau in the history of
educational thought propounded this caution, this attempt to separate the
apparent good from the putative bad, this urge to domesticate
<i>Émile</i>.</p>
<ref>Jean Jacques Rousseau, <i>Emile: or, Concerning Education</i> (Jules Steeg,
ed., Eleanor Worthington, trans., New York: D.C. Heath &amp; Co., 1883), pp.
6-7. The selections from <i>Émile</i> are presented under numerous subheadings,
which broke up Rousseau's unfolding of his principles as he followed them
through a process of hypothetical practice, and the moral theory on which his
educational views were based is greatly de-emphasized.</ref>
<ref>See R.L. Archer, ed., <i>Rousseau on Education</i> (New York: Longmans,
Green &amp; Co., 1912), and William Boyd, ed., <i>Emile for Today</i> (London:
William Heinemann, 1956; reprinted as William Boyd, trans. and ed., The <i>EMILE
of Jean Jacques Rousseau: Selections</i> (New York: Teachers College Press,
1962). Both Archer's and Boyd's versions are a considerable improvement of
Steeg's. They nevertheless still accentuate particulars of practice over the
informing principles. There is a basic dilemma for anyone trying to abridge
Emile: to preserve Rousseau's discussion of his ideas while cutting the book
radically in length, one would need to turn it into an abstract set of
reflections leaving out almost all Rousseau's exemplifying strategies of working
with Emile. <i>Émile</i> may seem digressive, but it is a work from which it is
hard to drop anything without serious loss to the whole.</ref>
<p>
Translations of <i>Émile</i> for use by educators embodied this caution.
<i>Émile</i> in its entirety is a richly textured, carefully woven, profound and
pregnant work, one that when read with care raises numerous questions of great
significance and admitting of no easy answers. In 1883, Jules Steeg published a
French abridgment of the first three books of <i>Émile</i> by in Heath's
Pedagogical Library. It typifies a line of radical abridgments that gut
<i>Émile</i> and turn it into a mere illustration of a new, sounder view of
childhood and of a preliminary pedagogy founded on the recognition and study of
the child as child. "To unfold the powers of children in due proportion to the
age; not to transcend their ability; to arouse in them the sense of the observer
and of the pioneer; to make them discoverers rather than imitators; to teach
them accountability to themselves and not slavish dependence upon the words of
others; to address ourselves more to the will than to custom, to the reason
rather than to the memory; to substitute for verbal recitations lessons about
things; to lead to theory by way of art; to assign to physical movements and
exercises a prominent place, from the earliest hours of life up to perfect
maturity; such are the principles scattered broadcast in this book, and forming
a happy counterpoise to the oddities of which Rousseau was perhaps most
proud."<span class="cite"></span> The radical abridgments, not Steeg's alone,
but also Archer's and Boyd's, both still in print, do little but illustrate such
points.<span class="cite"></span> And although the points are important, they
are far from the sum of <i>Émile</i>.</p>
<ref>William H. Payne, trans., <i>Rousseau's EMILE or Treatise on Education</i>
(1892) (New York: D. Appleton and Co., 1911). See p. xxxviii for the degree of
abridgment. Ellwood P. Cubberley, <i>Syllabus of Lectures on the History of
Education</i> (2nd ed., New York: The Macmillan Co., 1904), p. 230 called this
the standard translation, although he preferred Steeg's for teaching
purposes.</ref>
<ref>For Harris, see Ibid, pp. vii-xvi, esp. p. xv. For Payne, p. xxxvii.</ref>
<ref>Payne did not clearly mark in the text where he made omissions; these can
be traced fairly easily, however, by making a paragraph by paragraph comparison
with Bloom's text, op. cit., n. 1. Payne's first major omission comes on page 12
of his <i>Émile</i>, where ten paragraphs in which Rousseau explained the moral
psychology basic to his view that mothers, not nurses, should nurse their
children. On page 28, Payne left out several paragraphs concerning infant
language, including an important line that shows that Rousseau was in fact
thinking, very early in the educational process, about education for sound
social involvement "from these tears that we might think so little worthy of
attention is born man's first relation to all that surrounds him; here is formed
the first link in that long chain of which the social order is formed." (Bloom,
trans., <i>Émile</i>, op. cit., n. 1, p. 65. On page 33, Payne omitted a
paragraph in which <i>amour-propre</i> was first introduced, and what follows,
which begins "this principle once known...," is unintelligible since the
principle referred to is in the omitted paragraph. On page 46, nineteen
paragraphs were omitted in which Rousseau started to explain his conception of
happiness, one of the most important concepts in the work. On page 58, Payne
omitted another paragraph dealing with <i>amour-propre</i> and amour de soi. On
page 63, fourteen paragraphs were dropped in which Rousseau discussed the
formation of the passions and introduced Emile to the idea of property. On pages
65-7, there are numerous omissions, together some fifteen paragraphs, all of
which greatly weakens Rousseau's discussion of moral education. The general
effect of the omissions in pages 46-67 were to strip from <i>Émile</i>
Rousseau's moral philosophy, to trivialize the principle of negative education
into a mere precept against prematurely stocking the child's mind with knowledge
that he could neither use nor comprehend. From Payne's Emile, one cannot reflect
on the relation of education to happiness or to virtue, and one cannot
understand what Rousseau had to say about the dangers of a corrupting education.
On page 88, two paragraphs were excised again dealing with the corruption of
character. There then follows a long stretch in which most of the omissions
compress examples relating to the development of Emile's intellectual
capacities. On page 150, the conclusion to the long example of the magician and
the duck was dropped, a typical omission—the excised reprimand of the tutor by
the magician was very important to Rousseau's development of his ideas about how
Emile should be prepared to enter the moral world and such omissions made it
easier to uphold the cliché the Rousseau was an anti-social individualist.</ref>
<blockquote>[Book Four was thoroughly gutted by Payne. Not only was the
"Profession of Faith" avoided in its entirety, so too was the build up to it,
and the dialogue and exposition following it, see pages 228-236. In addition,
the extended discussion of the boy's entry into the moral world through the
early part of the Book was severely compressed, with much very important
material left out. For instance, on page 196, close to six paragraphs dealing
with the relation of sexuality to <i>amour -propre</i> were dropped. On page
210, eight paragraphs on moral education were cut, and on pages 204-5, 28
important paragraphs were compressed into three, including Rousseau's maxims
about pity. On page 211, an important paragraph was found unworthy of
inclusion—namely a discussion of the difficulty of developing a sound concept of
justice in civil society, a discussion that set the level of aspiration that
ought to be pursued in the second stage of education, that which comes on entry
into the moral world. Toward the end of the Book, pp. 237-240, Rousseau's
examination of how pedagogical authority, hitherto hidden as an apparent natural
authority, must now emerge as a moral authority, was highly compressed, and the
concluding discussion of moral choice in relation to a corrupting world of
society and taste is subjected to severe cuts. Of the material in Book V, that
dealing with Sophie's education is covered reasonably fully, but what then
follows on their courtship and the concomitant problems of ethical action was
almost entirely left out, and the translation ended with Emile about to set out
on his travels, thus leaving out the place of political thought in
education.</blockquote>
<blockquote>[How such omissions can cause serious misinterpretation was
evident from William Torrey Harris's "Preface." There (p. xiii) Harris referred
to a passage (page 5-6 of Payne's text) in which there was a major omission
concerning what Rousseau thought real citizenship consisted in. As it stood in
Payne's text, the passage could be made to illustrate a putative failure in
Rousseau to recognize the human value of social institutions, a use to which
Harris eagerly put the passage. Had the translation been complete, Harris would
not have been able to so use the quotation without subjecting himself to
criticism for completely distorting Rousseau's meaning by taking his words out
of context. A translation such as Payne's greatly facilitated polemic against
Rousseau by his critics by conveniently dropping the context of many important
things.</blockquote>
<p>1In 1892,
the International Education Series published a somewhat more ambitious
abridgment and translation by William H. Payne. It merits some attention for it
stood for two decades as the "standard" translation. Actually, it compressed
<i>Émile</i> by about one half.<span class="cite"></span> In his "Preface,"
William Torrey Harris was stringently hostile to Rousseau. After dwelling on the
fundamental errors in Rousseau's thought, he concluded that despite Rousseau,
<i>Émile</i> gave a "great positive impulse" to education by making educators
"recognize the sacredness of childhood," a contribution well brought out in the
translation.  Payne, in his "Introduction," summed up one of the main values
that early historians of education saw in the whole field, not only in a
domesticated Rousseau, namely, that it could inspire teachers. "If read with
kindly feeling and without prejudice, it can not fail to inspire teachers with
the noblest ambition, and to quicken their methods with living power....  There
is no other book which I can so heartily commend to teachers as a perennial
source of inspiration and kindly aid."<span class="cite"></span> But only after
suitably sterilizing the text: Payne attained some of his abridgment by
compressing Rousseau's examples, leaving out here, there, and everywhere,
sentences and paragraphs, but the bulk of his abridgment came by certain
systematic omissions. Payne's first substantial excision dropped Rousseau's
first discussion of the moral psychology underlying the whole work, and Payne
kept it up, dropping or compressing into insignificance the major passages in
which Rousseau reflected on the relation of education to morality, civic virtue,
the corruption of character, and politics.<span class="cite"></span> Readers
could not plumb the depths of a Rousseau, so expurgated.</p>
<p>1As the
early translations avoided the complexities of Émile, so, too, did the critical
studies. Until about 1900, studies of Rousseau's educational thought were very
thin. In addition to the translation of Raumer's exposition of Émile, Robert H.
Quick devoted a chapter to Rousseau in <i>his Essays on Educational
Reformers</i>, but the treatment was slight, a compressed exposition of
<i>Émile</i>, occasionally 26 supplemented with material from the <i>New
Heloise</i>.<span class="cite"></span> At the turn of the century, however,
interest in Rousseau's educational thought increased among English and American
scholars concerned with the newly emerging educational profession. In 1898, that
very curious character, Thomas Davidson, published an acerb study, <i>Rousseau
and Education according to Nature</i>, to which we will turn shortly.<span
class="cite"></span> A few years later, a translation of Gabriel Compayré's
exposition of <i>Émile</i> appeared as <i>Jean Jacques Rousseau and Education
from Nature</i>. Compayré's essay we can pass over in near silence. It
dependably remains in print, evidence not of its strengths, but testimony to the
over-all weakness of the educational literature on Rousseau. It was a shallow
exposition of a deep and difficult book, harmful only in that it created
illusions of facile comprehension, for if these seem to suffice, they will
discourage the drive to serious study of Rousseau's work.<span
class="cite"></span> The same comment applies to the discussions of Rousseau in
the growing number of textbooks available at the turn of the century.<span
class="cite"></span></p>
<ref>Robert Herbert Quick, <i>Essays on Educational Reformers</i> (1868) (2nd
ed., New York: D. Appleton and Co., 1890, 1917), pp. 239-272. Quick, pp. 272-4,
in keeping with the prevailing opinion, was careful to warn that Rousseau was
confused about morality.</ref>
<ref>Thomas Davidson, <i>Rousseau and Education According</i> to Nature ("The
Great Educators," New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1898, 1902).</ref>
<ref>Gabriel Compayré, <i>Jean-Jacques Rousseau and Education From Nature</i>
("Pioneers in Education," R.P. Jago, trans., New York: Thomas Y. Crowell &amp;
Co., 1907). Despite the similarity of titles chosen for their books by Davidson
and Compayré, the two works were almost diametrically opposed in underlying
conception; Davidson's was a sustained effort to show what was wrong with
Rousseau, Compayré's study was written "less to criticize Rousseau than to bring
to light the treasures of abiding truth which he has, as it were, buried in a
book described truly by him as 'the most useful and considerable' of his
writings." (p. 4).</ref>
<ref>The best of the text-books from this era, and the best of the text-book
discussions of Rousseau, was Paul Monroe, <i>A Text-Book in the History of
Education</i> (New York: The Macmillan Co., 1905, 1920), pp. 547-577. Monroe
recommended Payne's translation of Emile, and relied heavily on Morley and
Davidson, see, bibliography, p. 584. The gist of Monroe's presentation was that
Rousseau was none too consistent and that his doctrine of negative education
would harmfully weaken moral education, but that Rousseau was of great
importance because he made people attend to education as a process of
development, to the possibility of simplifying education, and to put a positive
valuation on the child.</ref>
<ref>Davidson, <i>Rousseau and Education According to</i> Nature, op. cit., n.
27, p. 73.</ref>
<ref>Ibid., p. 3.</ref>
<p>1Davidson's
diatribe, in contrast, is fascinating for it represented in fullest form what
one might call the stiff-necked rejection of any worth in Rousseau. Davidson was
Morley, taken to an extreme and applied to the study of Rousseau's educational
thought. Both commentators shared a profound antipathy for Rousseau's character,
both insisting that it was fundamentally flawed, weak, and unstable. "His
character, with its obtrusive independence, due to absence of all acknowledgment
of moral ties, is spongy, unmanly, and repellent. We might pity him, if he did
not pity himself so much; but we can in no case admire or love him."<span
class="cite"></span> Both held Rousseau, in himself so weak, to be significant
only through historical accident. "If true human greatness consists in deep
insight, strong and well-distributed affection, and free, beneficent will,
Rousseau was not in any sense a great man. His insight, like his knowledge, was
limited and superficial; his affections were capricious and undisciplined; and
his will was ungenerous and selfish. His importance in literature and history is
due to the fact that he summed up in his character, expressed in his writings,
and exemplified in his experience, a group of tendencies and aspirations which
had for some time been half blindly stirring in the bosom of society, and which
in him attained to complete consciousness and manifestation for the first
time."<span class="cite"></span> Both saw his work as a dangerous infection that
needed counter-action.</p>
<ref>Ibid., pp. 119-120.</ref>
<p class="bq sl">It would hardly be possible to form a more pitiful conception
of human life and education than Rousseau's. There is not a moral or noble trait
in it. The truth is, Rousseau was so purely a creature of sense and
undisciplined impulse that he never, for one moment, rose to a consciousness of
any moral life at all. He could not, therefore, take delight in it. <i>Noblesse
oblige</i>, the ruling maxim of the unselfish, moral, and social man, was in him
replaced by the maxim of the selfish, undutiful churl and reprobate, <i>Bonheur
invite</i>. But, in spite of all this, nay, by reason of it, Rousseau and his
theories are most interesting and fruitful objects of study. In days when
uncontrolled individualism still has its advocates, it is well fully to realize
what it means. And this is what Rousseau has told us, in a siren song of
mock-prophetic unction, which readily captivates and lures to destruction vast
crowds of thoughtless sentimentalists.  He has told us, further, in the same
tone, how children may be prepared for a life of individualism; and his
sense-drunk ravings, in denunciation of all moral discipline, have been, and
still are, received as divine oracles by millions of parents and teachers, who
have the training of children in their hands.... Rousseau's education according
to Nature, starting from an utterly calumnious notion of child-nature, and of
human nature in general, and ignoring all that is characteristic and noble in
both, proves to be an education for pure, reckless individualism, destructive of
all social institutions, and all true civilization.<span
class="cite"></span></p>
<ref>For the first <i>Discours</i>, see Morley,, <i>Rousseau</i>, op. cit., n. ,
vol. 1, pp. 132-154. Morley, of course, was not enthusiastic about the piece,
but he did give a reasonably full exposition of it, and noting its obvious
faults, stressed certain positive things in it. Morley's discussion of <i>La
nouvelle</i> Heloise is in vol. 2, pp. 20-55. It is interesting that Morley
separated his discussion of this work from the chapters devoted to the <i>Social
Contract</i> and Emile, which are quite different in tone, even though the three
works were published within a year or so of each other, and work on them
overlapped. Between <i>La nouvelle Heloise</i> and the other two great works
Morley gave an account of the persecution Rousseau underwent in the years
following publication of Emile. In this section, Morley spoke highly of the
''Lettre—Monseigneur de Beaumont" (pp. 83ff) and the <i>Letters from the
Mountain</i> (pp. 103ff): the former was "a masterpiece of dignity and
uprightness" and the latter "a long but extremely vigorous and adroit
rejoinder." We see Morley here taking considerable liberty with the chronology
of his subject, a liberty that made sense only rhetorically in setting
<i>Rousseau</i> up for a climatic critique of Rousseau's major work and the
denouement of Rousseau's decline into paranoia.</ref>
<ref>See Morley, <i>Rousseau</i>, op. cit., n. , vol. 1, pp. 154-186, esp. pp.
171-180. That Rousseau had explicitly created a thought experiment in the second
<i>Discourse</i>, could only have been overlooked intentionally by Morley, in
order to set up his strictures, pp. 171-2, against purported weaknesses in
Rousseau's method. Had Morley included what Rousseau said about the
<i>Discourse</i> being <i>hypothetical</i> history, Morley would have been
forced to discuss Rousseau's method far more carefully, and what followed, pp.
172-180, would have been patently gratuitous.</ref>
<p>1Vaccines
are made of attenuated viruses, and that was the danger to sound scholarship in
the intent to vaccinate an audience against the danger of infection by a writer
such as Rousseau—it seemingly legitimates a commentator's willful attenuation of
a writer's thought. Both Morley and Davidson did this; neither, when it came to
explaining what Rousseau wrote, had any intent to do justice to it. Morley was
subtle about it. Addressing himself to the whole life and work of Rousseau, for
the sake of appearances, he could do justice to the less dangerous works. Thus
he was gentle with the <i>Discourse on the Arts and Sciences</i>, quite careful
with the <i>New Heloise</i>, which changes in taste had rendered thoroughly
innocuous, and respectful of Rousseau's "Letter to Christophe de Beaumont" and
the <i>Letters from the Mountain</i>.<span class="cite"></span> With works still
likely to exert an influence, however, Morley's method of exposition was very
different. With the <i>Discourse on the Origin of Inequality</i>, Morley simply
made no mention, in explaining what Rousseau had to say about the state of
nature, of Rousseau's careful caution not to take the hypothesis he was
constructing as having anything to do with factual history. Having mentioned
nothing about Rousseau's caution, Morley proceeded throughout his criticism of
that <i>Discourse</i> to pillory Rousseau's method for vices it had only in
Morley's tendentious exposition and to adduce historical and anthropological
findings to call into question an historical validity that Rousseau never
claimed for his construct of the state of nature.<span
class="cite"></span></p>
<ref>Morley, <i>Rousseau</i>, vol. 2, pp. 119-154 for the first movement, pp.
154-183 for the second, and pp. 183-196 for the third, and p. 183 for the
quotation.</ref>
<p>1Likewise,
the long chapter on the <i>Social Contract</i>, was a travesty of exposition.
The chapter comprised three movements, the first a general one about the place
of the <i>Social Contract</i> in political thought, suggesting diverse
weaknesses in Rousseau's work without engaging Rousseau's argument seriously. In
the second, Morley made his motions at dealing with the argument, presenting six
of Rousseau's main concerns, each time devoting a paragraph or two to bare
restatements of Rousseau's points and then launching into long critiques of
them. The third movement concluded the chapter with a presentation of Morley's
own, Burkean view of politics as the view that right thinking people would
prefer to Rousseau's. Nowhere in the chapter did Morley explain Rousseau's
purpose in the <i>Social Contract</i>, namely to find the conditions under which
social bonds can be legitimate, and in the concluding movement, in which Morley
proceeded to "confront Rousseau's ideas with some of the propositions belonging
to another method of approaching the philosophy of government, that have for
their keynote the conception of expediency or convenience, and are tested by
their conformity to the observed and recorded experience of mankind...," he
showed that he never had any intention of seriously entertaining the basic
question that had given rise to the <i>Social Contract</i>.<span
class="cite"></span></p>
<ref>Davidson, <i>Rousseau and Education According to</i> Nature, op. cit., n. ,
p. 177.</ref>
<ref>Ibid., p. 147. It is interesting that Davidson did not criticize Pestalozzi
for similar illogicality and immorality, even though Pestalozzi argued it much
more explicitly, contending that social mores and insensitive legislation were
the real cause of a great deal of infanticide; see Thomas Davidson, A <i>History
of Education</i> (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1900), pp. 229-232. Neither
Rousseau nor Pestalozzi were seeking to substitute mere social engineering for
ethical action; they simply sought to define human situations so that the
ethical grounds for action could be put to the right people in the right way.
They would both hold that in many situations, Davidson's type of moralizing,
while ethically valuable, was directed smugly by those favored by unjust,
destructive, immoral conditions against those who paid the price—physician, heal
thyself! For Pestalozzi's views on this, see his <i>Über Gesezgebung und
Kindermord</i> (1783) in <i>Sämtliche Werke</i> (Vol. 9, Berlin: Verlag von
Walter de Gruyter &amp; Co., 1930, pp. 1-181.</ref>
<p>1Davidson
also, in dealing with <i>Émile</i>, refused to take seriously the central
problem the work addressed. Davidson was convinced that Rousseau's working
purpose in writing <i>Émile</i> was to justify his own character flaws and to
convert them into the operative goals of education.  "We know . . . through his
<i>Confessions</i> and otherwise, that morality meant nothing to him but a
careful calculation of the possibilities of undisturbed sensual enjoyment. We
may fairly conclude, therefore, that the aim of Émile's education, thus far, has
been to prepare him, not for a life of earnest, determined moral struggle and
self-sacrifice, but for a life of quiet, cleanly, assured sensuous delight; not
for a life of active enterprise, but for a life of passive dalliance."<span
class="cite"></span> Since Davidson was writing a commentary on <i>Émile</i>,
step-by-step he followed the text more closely than did Morley in writing about
any of Rousseau's works. Nevertheless, each time Davidson came close to
Rousseau's basic interest in the way that human corruption develops through
mis-education, he recoiled in a refusal to examine the issue "As if any one
could be forced to do wrong against his will! This illogical and immoral
doctrine has made dangerous fanatics without number, and encouraged criminals to
hold society responsible for their crimes. It has, further, led to numerous
attempts to moralize men by merely altering their surroundings, when the true
method would have been to strengthen their wills through discipline, and to
teach them that life without virtue is worthless."<span
class="cite"></span></p>
<ref>Davidson, <i>Rousseau and Education According to</i> Nature, op. cit., n. ,
p. 138.</ref>
<ref>Ibid., p. 168.</ref>
<p>1Even if
Davidson were right in his sentiments, his eagerness to use Rousseau as a
straw-man in proclaiming them seriously weakened the book, at least insofar as
he intended the book to help people understand Rousseau's ideas. To write an
effective commentary on another's thought, one cannot hold so strongly to one's
own sentiments that one becomes incapable of seriously entertaining the other's
argument. Repeatedly, Davidson backed away and refused to treat Rousseau's
thought seriously. "It is hardly worth while to comment upon this crude,
sensuous, chemical psychology. To have been condemned to it was the penalty paid
by Rousseau for his superficial acquaintance with philosophy, and his contempt
for it."<span class="cite"></span> Alternatively, "It would be vain to waste
time on these crudities. They are not due to any accurate thinking, or to any
real, enlightened desire for the truth, but to an effort to justify a lazy,
intellectual habit, in behalf of a foregone scheme of sensuous, unsocial
life."<span class="cite"></span> Davidson's book was not a study of Rousseau; it
was simply a proclamation that Rousseau was not worth studying.</p>
<ref>Ibid., p. 91.</ref>
<p>1In sum, at
the beginning of twentieth century, the predominant view of Rousseau held that
he was morally weak, intellectually fatuous, accidentally significant. The most
substantial work on him for educators propounded prophylaxis. "As the virus of
Rousseau's social theories, of which his educational system confessedly forms a
part, has not yet ceased to poison the minds of men and women of the dalliant
order, it may be well to bring out here the nature of this virus, and to show
its pernicious effects in social life."<span class="cite"></span> Morley's
Rousseau, then the most substantial work in English dealing heavily with
Rousseau's political thought, was equally dedicated to prophylaxis. The
nineteenth-century heritage in English in all fields was one of deep distrust of
Rousseau.</p>
<ref>See Gustave Lanson, <i>Histoire de la Littérature</i> Française (New
edition edited by Paul Tuffrau, Paris: Librairie Hachette, 1951, esp. pp.
773-803; Eugene Ritter, <i>La famille et la jeunesse de J.-J. Rousseau</i>
(Paris: Librairie Hachette, 1896); Frederika Macdonald, <i>Jean Jacques
Rousseau: A New Criticism</i> (2 vols., London: Chapman and Hall, 1906). These
three authors were among the life members of the Société Jean-Jacques Rousseau,
which began publishing it <i>Annales</i> in 1905, annual volumes which included
substantial articles and sometimes whole books, as well as a great deal of
bibliographical material. Of course, the willingness to read Rousseau with care
in an attempt to come to terms with his thought did not take hold suddenly and
universally. Jules Lemaitre's <i>Jean-Jacques Rousseau</i> (Paris: Colman-Lévy,
1907) was very much in the <i>ad hominem</i> tradition.</ref>
<p>1In the
years preceding the bicentennial of his birth, however, this situation began to
change. In general, scholars began to take Rousseau's thought more seriously. In
1894, the distinguished literary historian, Gustave Lanson, published his
monumental <i>Historie de la Littérature Française</i>, and his treatment of
Rousseau was substantial, a powerful suggestion that his thought needed to be
taken seriously. In 1896, Eugene Ritter's work, <i>La famille et la jeunesse de
J.-J. Rousseau</i>, appeared, a work that reawakened the effort to study
Rousseau's life, not to pass judgment on it, but to understand it. Early in the
twentieth century, the Société Jean-Jacques Rousseau formed and its
<i>Annales</i> began functioning as an effective, international clearinghouse
for careful scholarship such as Ritter's book. In England, Frederika Macdonald
made a concerted, impassioned effort to rehabilitate Rousseau's reputation.<span
class="cite"></span> New translations of Rousseau began to appear, which were,
at least, improvements on what was available. Scholars published more
substantial, serious studies, and Rousseau began again to be a presence worthy
of constructive attention. </p>
<ref>See William Boyd, <i>The Minor Educational Writings of Jean Jacques
Rousseau</i> (1910) (New York: Teachers College Press, 1962); Jean Jacques
Rousseau, <i>Émile</i> (Barbara Foxley, trans., 1911) (New York: E.P. Dutton
&amp; Co., 1961); William Boyd, <i>The Educational Theory of Jean Jacques
Rousseau</i>, op. cit., n. 4; and R.L. Archer, ed., <i>Rousseau on
Education</i>, op. cit., n. 22.</ref>
<p>1To
understand how the present-day sharp disjunction in the quality of work on
Rousseau being done by political theorists and by educational theorists
developed, we need to examine how political thinkers and educational thinkers
tried to break out of the ad <i>hominem</i> tradition of Rousseau scholarship.
Let us look first at what happened in the history of educational thought. In
1910, William Boyd published his translation of <i>The Minor Educational
Writings of Jean Jacques Rousseau</i>, the next year Barbara Foxley's full
translation of <i>Émile</i> appeared in Everyman's Library and William Boyd
published his extended study, <i>The Educational Theory of Jean Jacques
Rousseau</i>. One year later, R. L. Archer's translation, <i>Rousseau on
Education</i>, came out in the series edited by J. W. Adamson, "Educational
Classics."<span class="cite"></span> It was quite a flurry of activity. The
translations were a considerable improvement on Steeg and Payne. Foxley's effort
in particular made something approximating Rousseau's text available in English.
Yet to understand the character of this burst of interest in Rousseau's
educational thought, we need to turn first to Boyd's study to see how it related
to the intensely hostile heritage of commentary that preceded it.</p>
<ref>William Boyd, <i>The Educational Theory of Jean Jacques Rousseau</i>, op.
cit., n. 4, p. v.</ref>
<p>2In his
"Preface," Boyd took note of the <i>ad hominem</i> tradition and professed a
response to Rousseau that ran against the current tide: "my interpretation of
his view of life is based on a discriminating but firm faith in the essential
nobility of the man and in the greatness of his thought."<span
class="cite"></span> Boyd was no disciple, but equally he was no believer in the
prophylactic mission. He sought to deal seriously with Rousseau's thought, but
unfortunately, his book was not solid enough to found a tradition of Rousseau
scholarship among English and American educators. Rather than fashioning the
tools for a significant departure from the <i>ad hominem</i> tradition, Boyd
merely softened it, while leaving intact its central point that Rousseau was an
historical accident whose work did not really merit serious study for its
deepest meanings. The upshot: Boyd's work, as much as Davidson's, attenuated
Rousseau's thought.</p>
<ref>Sir Henry Maine, <i>Ancient Law</i>, p. 76, quoted in Boyd, op. cit, n. 4,
p. 349-350, n. 1.</ref>
<p>2Boyd never
really freed himself from the <i>ad hominem</i> tradition. In addition to the
stiff-necked strand of that tradition, the tone of which came in large part from
a Victorian capacity to be shocked at Rousseau's sexual confessions, both the
normal and not so normal, there was a more forbearant strand. Criticism of this
type did not heavily rebuke Rousseau's transgressions against the straight-laced
virtues; it simply noted Rousseau's weaknesses with a certain ennui, letting
them affect the substance, but not the tone, of interpretation. Thus, if the
stiff-necked' tradition was informed by animus, resulting in fear of the work,
the forbearant was characterized by condescension, resulting in surprise at the
work. This forbearant tradition was well voiced by Sir Henry Maine, when he
described Rousseau as "that remarkable man, who without learning, with few
virtues, and with no strength of character, has nevertheless stamped himself
ineffaceably on history by the force of a vivid imagination, and by the help of
a genuine and burning love for his fellow-men for which much will always have to
be forgiven him."<span class="cite"></span></p>
<p>2Boyd's
study really belonged to the forbearant strand of the <i>ad hominem</i>
tradition. The opening two chapters, which deal with Rousseau's education
through his late twenties, provide the first clue. A cliché in this time
described Rousseau lightly as a genius and left it at that, never probing
seriously the formation of that genius under the unusual circumstances in which
Rousseau grew up. Forbearant <i>ad hominem</i> criticism began on the assumption
that Rousseau had little learning or character, and as a result passed over with
a condescending indifference Rousseau's formative period.  This was precisely
what Boyd did; his opening chapters reflected a stifling lack of curiosity about
Rousseau in the making. To be sure, they covered the necessary minimum,
following selectively Rousseau's account in the <i>Confessions</i>,
supplementing it occasionally with further information and comment.</p>
<ref>Ibid., pp. 1-7. Compare to this the ability of Ritter, fifteen years
earlier, in <i>La famille et la jeunesse de J.-J. Rousseau,</i>, op. cit., n.
41, to bring these familial influences much more fully to the surface. Michel
Launay's first chapter, "L'éducation politique d'un enfant du peuple: le fils de
l'horloger (1712-1728)," in his marvelous study, <i>Jean-Jacques Rousseau,
écrivain politique (1712-1762)</i>, (Grenoble: A.C.E.R., 1971), pp. 13-65, sets
a standard of careful elucidation of influences that shows how much will be lost
by lazy scholars who pass easily over Rousseau's first years.</ref>
<ref>Ibid., p. 14.</ref>
<ref>See Ibid., pp. 29-38. Compare these pages by Boyd with the much richer
examination of chapter by Pierre Maurice Masson, "L'autodidacte et son 'Magasin
d'idées'," in his <i>La Religion de J.J. Rousseau</i> (3 vols., Paris: Librairie
Hachette, 1916), vol. 1, pp. 83-129.</ref>
<ref>J.W.v. Goethe, <i>Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship</i> (1795) (Thomas
Carlyle, trans., New York: Collier Books, 1962) p. 492.</ref>
<p>2We get a
flavor of the complacency suffusing Boyd's book from these early chapters. Boyd
lacked the drive to fathom the young Rousseau.  Thus Boyd said some interesting
things about the relation between Rousseau and his father, but did not really
try to get inside the intellectual and political climate of the household, to
comprehend from the inside the circumstances of Rousseau's childhood.<span
class="cite"></span> Thus, too, Boyd was easily satisfied about the extent of
Rousseau's childhood intellectual acquirements: "except for the two years spent
with M. Lambercier—no very serious exception—Rousseau had no teaching of the
kind commonly given in schools and colleges. Most of what he learned was learned
in a quite casual way without any consciousness of effort."<span
class="cite"></span> What was it, though, that Rousseau learned? What sort of
intelligence developed in him? Boyd neither asked nor answered such questions.
Thus, finally, Boyd supplemented Rousseau's account of his studies at Chambéry
and Les Charmettes with observations drawn from one of Rousseau's poems from the
time, "Le Verger de Madame de Warens," but the account of Rousseau's
autodidactic efforts did not go beyond indicating, selectively and
superficially, a few potential influences on him.<span class="cite"></span>
Again Boyd was content to leave unexplored the question of whether Rousseau's
developing intellect showed itself in this process of formation to be of unusual
power, whether Goethe's great observation "he in whom there is much to be
developed will be later in acquiring true perceptions of himself and of the
world" -- applies properly to Rousseau.<span class="cite"></span></p>
<p>2Like most
in the <i>ad hominem</i> tradition, Boyd's account of Rousseau's development up
to the time, at thirty-seven, when Rousseau wrote his <i>Discourse on the Arts
and Sciences</i>, was a mystification: Rousseau was a genius, presumably
therefore someone capable of doing uncommonly much with whatever came his way,
yet the study of his formative period was something that could be quickly sped
over, despite the postulate of his genius, with the confidence that he was doing
uncommonly little with whatever came his way.  Such procedure reflected,
ultimately, a condescending attitude in the critic toward his subject. Evidence
was available for use in a real effort to probe Rousseau's development, but Boyd
did not exploit because he, like other critics, presumed such probing would
yield results not worth the effort.  Further, condescension by the critic
towards his subject could lead, not only to lazy exploitation of the available
material, but also to interpretations of a person's work that fall far from
doing justice to it. Boyd, in condescending toward Rousseau, set himself up as
understanding Rousseau better than Rousseau understood himself, with the result
that in his interpretation, Boyd attenuated Rousseau's work as surely as did
Morley and Davidson in confecting theirs from animosity.</p>
<ref>William Boyd, <i>The Educational Theory of Jean Jacques Rousseau</i>, op.
cit., n. 4, p. 120.</ref>
<p>2As Boyd
saw it, Rousseau articulated in his work two fundamentally incompatible views of
man, politics, and education.  "Speaking broadly, the difference between the
two..., both in temper and in principles, is the difference between Cynicism and
Stoicism."<span class="cite"></span> In part, the difference between the cynical
and stoical Rousseau was one between the earlier and later Rousseau, between the
two <i>Discourses</i> and <i>Émile</i> and the <i>Social Contract</i>. Yet, the
cynical Rousseau, although less prominent in the later works, never completely
disappeared, and to extract the value in Rousseau's work, one needed
continuously to be aware that at any point cynicism could intrude into it. Like
Raumer half a century earlier, Boyd still sought to help readers learn to
separate the good and bad, the true and false, that Rousseau so artfully mixed
together in his works so to seduce the unwitting into error.</p>
<ref>Ibid., p. 66.</p>
<p>2In Boyd's
judgment, the cynical Rousseau was profoundly destructive: "...the fundamental
motive of his thought in the discussion of culture and civilization in the
<i>Discourse</i> was a mere negation. He writes out of a deep sense of
dissatisfaction with all the institutional products of the human spirit, and the
result is criticism and condemnation unrelieved by any touch of idealism from
faith in a possible better."<span class="cite"></span> Fortunately, Boyd
suggested, Rousseau developed a more stoical alternative to this destructive
position, which began faintly to appear with the <i>Discourse on the Origin of
Inequality</i>, and emerged more fully with the nearly simultaneous article on
"Political Economy."</p>
<ref>Ibid., p 69.</ref>
<p>2It is one
thing for a critic to show a writer in the process of rethinking a position and
articulating a new one; it is quite another for the critic to suggest that such
changes took place in a thinker who was quite oblivious to them and unaware that
an alternative view of things had developed in him. Yet that is what Boyd
claimed, a claim possible only if a thorough condescension suffuses the critic.
"It is obvious that with a mind like [Rousseau 's], which felt its way to the
truth rather than forced experience to yield up its meaning to the demands of
thought, the co-existence of two irreconcilable views of life was possible
without causing any serious inconvenience."<span class="cite"></span> Thus, the
condescending critic arrived at the conviction that he could speak more truly
for the good in Rousseau than Rousseau himself could, that Boyd was the
scholarly therapist appointed to redeem Rousseau from philosophic
schizophrenia.</p>
<ref>Ibid., p. 122.</ref>
<ref>See Ibid., pp. 126, 129, 136, 144-6, 149-150, 154, 156, and so on.</ref>
<ref>Ibid., p. 189.</ref>
<p>2Since
Rousseau could think for himself only imperfectly, Boyd has to do it for him,
carefully unraveling the sound from the unsound. "The fact is that he himself
never realized the fundamental change that had taken place in his thought, and
his approach to the constructive application of his modified views was hampered
by the extremeness of the opposition between the natural and the social which he
still formally maintained."<span class="cite"></span> Repeatedly, shielded by
his condescension towards Rousseau, Boyd dealt with aspects of Rousseau's mature
work inconsistent with his construction of the good Rousseau, by insisting that
Rousseau did not understand himself, never by questioning whether Boyd
understood Rousseau.<span class="cite"></span> Before long, Boyd had worked out
the rationale for his speaking authoritatively for whatever truth there was in
Rousseau. "In the illuminating phrase of Heel's, ...social contrivances are
'mind objective', mind taking external form in institutions.  By approaching
society too exclusively from the individual or psychological point of view,
Rousseau appreciates this very inadequately when he appreciates it at all. The
consequence is apparent in his condemnation of all but the simplest phases of
social life as artifices alien to the fundamental nature of man, and in the
failure to see that social man even at the worst is not less but more natural
than his animal and his savage progenitors. The truth indeed is in him—witness
the Fourth and Fifth Books of the <i>Émile</i class="par1 sl">—but it never gets
out into perfectly clear consciousness because of the subjective pre-occupation
that 'siklied o'er' his thought about man to the end of his life, and made him
suspicious of society in practice even after he had accepted it in theory."<span
class="cite"></span></p>
<ref>Ibid., p. vii. On pp. 300-301, Boyd quoted Caird on the importance of
Rousseau in setting off the democratic movement in Europe, Rousseau's principal
positive contribution in the view of both, and on p. 335, Boyd quoted Caird to
support his basic criticism of Rousseau, that he did not adequately recognize
that spirit is distinctively human and because of it human life can not be
treated solely naturally. "Man belongs to the natural world.... But even then
[in childhood] he is more that natural. He is spiritual, and therefore not a
simple product of growth but the outcome of a free activity which curbs and
checks the natural impulses in the interests of a higher life." (p. 335) What is
Book Four of Emile all about if not the process by which, through free activity,
one enters the moral realm? In referring to Caird, Boyd was citing the essay
"Rousseau" in Caird's <i>Essays on Literature</i> (1892) (Port Washington, NY:
Kennikat Press, 1968), pp. 103-136, hardly the foundation of Caird's
reputation.</ref>
<ref>Stanley E. Ballinger, "The Natural Man: Rousseau," in Paul Nash, Andreas M.
Kazamias, and Henry J. Perkinson, eds., <i>The Educated Man: Studies in the
History of Educational Thought</i> (New York: John Wiley &amp; Sons, 1965), p.
234.</ref>
<ref>So far as I have been able to trace, Boyd's book <i>keep working on
this</i> was not widely reviewed. There was a perfunctory notice of it in
<i>Annales</i>, 8(1912), p. 326. Lewis Flint Anderson gave it a positive review
in The <i>Journal of Educational Psychology</i>, Vol. 111, No. 9, November 1912,
pp. 531-3.</ref>
<p>2In his
"Preface," Boyd confessed his philosophic indebtedness to Edward Caird, and at
two important places in the text, in stating his basic appreciation of Rousseau
and his essential criticism, Boyd appealed to Caird's authority.<span
class="cite"></span> Thus, he defined himself as a progressive neo-Hegelian and
in such a context, there is a certain justification for attempting to separate
out in the work of a mere man what belongs to the objective process by which the
real and rational unfolds itself in history. Nevertheless, such an effort is
itself always the work of mere men, and the mere man Boyd asked too little of
Rousseau and too little of himself. With continuing consequences: a recent work
on educational history, in one of the better texts at that, still refers to Boyd
as "the noted Rousseau scholar."<span class="cite"></span> Boyd's study and
translations are still in print, yet it is hard to understand how his work ever
earned its repute among students of the history of educational thought.<span
class="cite"></span> </p>
<ref>Macdonald extensively reviews the development of critical opinion on
Rousseau's character in the first two parts of her study, <i>Jean Jacques
Rousseau: A New Criticism</i>, op. cit., n. 41, Vol. 1, pp. 1-119. Georges Roth,
in his introduction to <i>Histoire de Madame de Montbrillant: Les
pseudo-Mémoires de Madame D'Epinay</i>, op. cit., n. 8, Vol. 1, pp. xxxiv-1,
gives a somewhat more dispassionate, but telling, review of the matter. In an
appendix to <i>The Political Writings of Jean Jacques Rousseau</i> (1915) (2
vols., New York: Burt Franklin, 1971), Vol. 2, pp. 537-559, gives a very good
summary of Macdonald's argument, calling attention to the significance of it for
interpretations of Rousseau. Gaspard Vallette, one of the leading figures in the
Société Jean-Jacques Rousseau, wrote an extensive review of Macdonald's work in
<i>Annales</i>, III (1907), pp. 256-267. The issue, at bottom, concerned
Rousseau's break with the Diderot-Grimm-d'Epinay circle in 1757 and Rousseau's
persecution complex that ever-after plagued him. It is an. extremely tangled
matter with respect to which the basic choice is to hold that Rousseau was an
impossible character to maintain personal relations with, a very unstable
ingratiate who took to accusing others of bad faith and the intent to defame in
order to maintain the appearance of his own probity, at least to himself, or
that, at a minimum, Frédéric-Melchoir Grimm, manipulated others, especially
d'Epinay and Diderot, into perceiving Rousseau as something of a malevolent
genius whose influence should be impeded and whose tranquility deserved to be
upset. Immediate posterity seemed to hold for Rousseau; his Confessions were
much more moving that Diderot's shrill accusations published soon after
Rousseau's death. Grimm's collected <i>Correspondance littéraire</i>, published
in 1812, and then six years later, the forged <i>Memoires</i> of Madame
d'Epinay, tipped the scales, however, and opinion began to swing toward favoring
the hypothesis that Rousseau was indeed fully at fault. Scrutiny of the
manuscript of the <i>Memoires</i> was successfully avoided by their publishers,
and by mid-century, Sainte-Beuve came out fully on the side of Grimm and
d'Epinay: "when we read Mme. d'Epinay's <i>Memoires</i> on the one hand, and the
<i>Confessions</i> on the other, it is clear that the letters quoted in these
works, which might help clarify the question, are differently reproduced in the
two books; they were altered by one of the parties: someone lied. I do not think
that it was Mme. d'Epinay. As for Grimm, his character emerges in a favorable
light because of his very indifference" (Sainte-Beuve, "Grimm," as translated by
Francis Steegmuller and Norbert Gutterman in <i>Sainte-Beuve: Selected
Essays</i>, op. cit., n. 7, p. 174). Once the critical assumption became
established that Rousseau's <i>Confessions</i> not only sometimes erred on
matters of recollected fact, inevitable under the circumstances of composition,
but were basically untrustworthy, having been composed subtly to alter the
historical record and that d'Epinay's <i>Memoires</i> were trustworthy, it
seemed to follow then that Grimm's accusations, and Diderot's accusations, and
the accusations by many others, were also trustworthy. In such a situation, the
<i>Confessions</i>, themselves, became very damaging to Rousseau, for they
added, through revelations such as the deposit of his infants in a foundling
home, to the evidence against Rousseau without contributing to a comprehension
of him on the part of critics who were entirely convinced that comprehending him
was impossible. See Arthur M. Wilson's excellent work <i>Diderot</i> (New York:
Oxford University Press, 1972), esp. pp. 254-9, 291-306, 608-11, and 691-2, for
a careful presentation of the problem from Diderot's point of view, taking full
account of presently available evidence.</ref>
<ref>For such assessments see the work of Roth, Vaughan, and Vallette cited in
the previous note.</ref>
<p>3Before
leaving Boyd's example, let us look at one final problem in his work, a problem
that also stemmed most probably form his condescension toward his subject, and
perhaps toward his audience as well. This is the problem of Boyd's scholarly
standards. <i>The Educational Thought of Jean Jacques Rousseau</i> never was up
to date relative to the scholarship of its time, relative even to the
scholarship Boyd cited in his bibliography. Let us attend here to a peculiarity
in his use of an important work that he did cite, namely Frederika Macdonald's
<i>Jean Jacques Rousseau, A New Criticism</i>, published in two volumes in 1906.
Macdonald had taken on the <i>ad hominem</i> tradition head on. She struck at it
in the most fundamental way, by seeking to discredit the evidence on which it
rested. The <i>ad hominem</i> critics repetitively relied on two bodies of
damaging evidence, one stemming from Madame d'Epinay's <i>Mémoires</i>, Grimm's
<i>Correspondence litéraire</i>, and various allegations by Diderot, and a
second stemming from Rousseau's <i>Confessions</i>. The first body of evidence
had seemed to prove that Rousseau was an imbalanced ingratiate, suffering from
delusions of persecution; the second concerned Rousseau's children and their
notorious deposition at birth in a Parisian foundling hospital.<span
class="cite"></span> Macdonald sought to discredit both bodies of evidence. In a
chapter relative to the second, she maintained the proposition that Rousseau had
never in fact had any children.  However, she devoted the bulk of her two
volumes to the first proposition, showing that d'Epinay's <i>Mémoires</i> had
been drafted as a novel and had been revised in the 1760's, and then again
shortly before their publication in 1818, to support the otherwise dubious
allegations of Grimm and Diderot.  Rousseau scholars held that her case that
Rousseau died childless was not compelling, but that her demonstration that
d'Epinay's <i>Mémoires</i> are worthless as a historical source on Rousseau and
that d'Epinay and Grimm, and most probably Diderot, conspired to defame Rousseau
while he lived and after he died, is sound.<span class="cite"></span></p>
<ref>Boyd, <i>The Educational Thought of Jean Jacques Rousseau</i>., op. cit.,
n. , pp. 52-3, and n. 1, p. 53 for the citation of Macdonald.</ref>
<ref>Ibid., pp. 69-70, 108-117, 191 n. 1. In addition, Boyd, p. 68, n. 2, drew
on Grimm's <i>Correspondance littéraire</i> for testimony concerning Rousseau's
character with no hint that there may have been a strong bias to this
testimony.</ref>
<ref>See William Boyd, <i>The Minor Educational Writings of Jean Jacques
Rousseau</i>, op. cit., n. 42, pp. 102-4.</ref>
<p>3What did
Boyd do with Macdonald's work? He cited her argument with respect to Rousseau's
children, declared against it, and remained silent with respect to all the rest
of the work.<span class="cite"></span> This procedure would be fine, if Boyd did
not make use of d'Epinay's <i>Mémoires</i>, but these were an important source
for his over-all treatment of Rousseau's educational thought, coloring his
estimate of Rousseau's stature and entering substantively into his
interpretation of Rousseau's educational ideas.<span class="cite"></span> In
<i>The Minor Educational Writings of Jean-Jacques Rousseau</i>, Boyd even
appended a translated excerpt from the <i>Mémoires</i>.<span
class="cite"></span> In none of his references to d'Epinay's <i>Mémoires</i> did
Boyd so much as hint that they had been exposed as a forgery. Either Boyd was
extremely casual in his reading of Macdonald-it is difficult to deal with her
forty pages on Rousseau's children without catching on to the gist of the other
780 pages in the workéor Boyd knew the case against d'Epinay, confident that
neither his audience would pick him up on it nor that critical care really
mattered with a writer like Rousseau, a good part of whose thought had to be
jettisoned for the sake of world-historical truth in any case. Boyd's
performance here, whether it was a performance of sloppy scholarship or willful
evasion of complexity, belied a basic condescension toward subject and audience:
neither merited a painstaking work.</p>
<ref>Peter Gay, "Reading about Rousseau," <i>The Party of Humanity: Essays in
the French Enlightenment</i> (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1964), pp. 211-238,
esp. pp. 222-223.</ref>
<ref>See V.D. Musset-Pathay, <i>Histoire de la Vie et des Ouvrages de J.-J.
Rousseau</i>, op cit., n. 5; Gustave Lanson, <i>Histoire de la Littérature
Française</i>, op. cit., n. 41; Ernst Cassirer, <i>The Question of Jean Jacques
Rousseau</i> (Peter Gay, trans., Bloomington: Midland Books, 1954, 1963); C.E.
Vaughan, <i>The Political Writings of Jean Jacques Rousseau</i>, op. cit., n.
58; Pierre Maurice Masson, <i>La Religion de J.J. Rousseau</i>, op. cit., n. 47;
Albert Schinz, <i>La Pensée de Jean-Jacques Rousseau: Essai d'interprétation
nouvelle</i> (2 vols., Northampton: Smith College, 1929); Robert Derathé,
<i>Jean-Jacques Rousseau et la science politique de son temps</i> (Paris:
Presses Universitaires de France, 1950); Martin Rang, <i>Rousseaus Lehre vom
Menschen</i> (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck &amp; Ruprecht, 1959; Victor Goldschmidt,
<i>Anthropologie et Politique: Les Principes du Système de Rousseau</i> (Paris:
Librairie Philosophique J. Vrin, 1974); and Michel Launay, <i>Jean-Jacques
Rousseau, écrivain politique (1712-1762)</i>, op. cit., n. 46.</ref>
<ref>William Boyd, trans. and ed., <i>The EMILE of Jean Jacques Rousseau:
Selections</i>, op. cit., n. 22, p. 197.</ref>
<p>3Peter Gay
has rightly suggested that the breakthrough to effective scholarship on Rousseau
in the twentieth century has come through a willingness to consider potential
unity in Rousseau's thought, taking his corpus in its entirety.<span
class="cite"></span> Such consideration was precisely that which Rousseau
himself requested of his posterity. Such consideration was basic in the
sensitive, compassionate work of V. D. Musset-Pathay early in the nineteenth
century. Such consideration was renewed by Gustave Lanson at the turn of the
twentieth. Such consideration was defined clearly by Ernst Cassirer in <i>Das
Problem J.-J. Rousseau</i> (1932). Such consideration informs the major
interpretations of Rousseau's thought, those of C. E. Vaughan, Pierre Masson,
Albert Schinz, Robert Derathé, Martin Rang, and many others up to Victor
Goldschmidt and Michel Launay.<span class="cite"></span> By this criterion of
being willing to entertain the potential unity of Rousseau's thought, Boyd
remained pre-twentieth century throughout all his treatments of Rousseau. As
late as 1956 in his "Editor's Epilogue" to his version of <i>Émile</i>, Boyd
showed no inkling of a half-century of scholarship that had completely
transformed the interpretation of Rousseau. "There is truth in both [of
Rousseau's] points of view. Education must make good men: education must make
good citizens. Rousseau's mistake was to stop at <i>either-or:</i> either
education for individuality, or education for community."<span
class="cite"></span></p>
<ref>To my mind, the best discussion of Rousseau in the general texts is that in
<i>Doctrines of the Great Educators</i> by Robert R. Rusk (now as revised for
the 5th edition by James Scotland, New York: St. Martin's Press, 19799, pp.
100-135. It does not rely heavily on Boyd and draws from a wide range of
sources, although those sources do not indicate any systematic command of the
scholarship on Rousseau. Also see Robert Ulich's <i>History of Educational
Thought</i> (Revised edition, New York: American Book Company, 1968), pp.
211-224. Good, but docile to Boyd's influence is Stanley E. Ballinger's "The
Natural Man: Rousseau," in Nash, Kazamias, and Perkinson, eds., <i>The Educated
Man: Studies in the History of Educational Thought</i>, op. cit., n. 56, pp.
224-246.</ref>
<ref>There are five studies from France and Germany that are important works on
Rousseau's educational thought that are almost never cited by American and
English writers on the subject: as a background work, Georges Snyders, <i>La
Pédagogie en France aux XVIIe et XVIIIe siècles</i> (Paris: Presses
Universitaires de France, 1965); two French works on Rousseau's educational
theory—André Ravier, <i>L'éducation de l'homme nouveau</i> (2 vols., Lyon: Boasc
Frères M. &amp; L. Riou, 1941) and Jean Chateau, <i>Jean-Jacques Rousseau: Sa
Philosophie de l'éducation</i> (Paris: Librairie Philosophique J. Vrin, 1962);
and two substantial studies of Rousseau by German educational historians—Hermann
Röhrs, <i>Jean-Jacques Rousseau: Vision und Wirklichkeit</i> (1956) (2nd ed.,
Heidelberg: Quelle &amp; Meyer, 1966) and Martin Rang, <i>Rousseaus Lehre vom
Menschen</i>, op. cit., n. 64. Ulich listed Chateau's work in his bibliography
in <i>History of Educational Thought</i>, op. cit., n. 66, p. 426, but outside
of that none of these appear anywhere that I have been able to locate.</ref>
<ref>See the works cited in n. 2, above, especially those by Masters, Shklar,
Perkins, Ellenburg, and Ellis, as well as Cook's dissertation cited in n. 4.
Most of these, of course, are too recent to appear anywhere but in the new
edition of <i>Doctrines of the Great Educators</i>, op. cit., n. 66.</ref>
<p>3Boyd never
entered the realm of twentieth-century scholarship on Rousseau, and with Boyd,
the history of educational thought in English relative to Rousseau has remained
hopelessly dated. The field has stayed with Boyd. In close to seventy years
since Boyd's study, the field has generated no other sustained work on
Rousseau's educational thought, excepting the Shahikian's travesty. Basically,
most of the numerous chapters in the numerous texts follow Boyd, and where they
depart, they do so in <i>idiosyncratic ways that have little to do with the</i>
main developments in scholarship on Rousseau.<span class="cite"></span> None of
the ensuing summary treatments of Rousseau in texts indicates in any way that a
number of distinguished studies of Rousseau's educational thought in French and
German have supplanted Boyd's study.<span class="cite"></span> None indicates
that historians of political theory writing in English have conducted thorough
and profound examinations of Rousseau's educational ideas.<span
class="cite"></span> Boyd never freed himself from the <i>ad hominem</i>
tradition and dependent on Boyd, the field has remained bedeviled by that
incubus: Rousseau is dangerous, yet useful, and interpreters must tame and put
him to work by sundering what is safe from the corrupting corpus by tactics of
triage. Hence, educational scholarship makes less, not of Rousseau, but of
ourselves.</p>
<ref>See, C. E. Vaughan, <i>The Political Writings of Jean Jacques Rousseau</i>,
op. cit., n. 58.</ref>
<p>3Boyd
perpetuated the <i>ad hominem</i> critique, while muting its acrimonious tone.
Such was not the only way to shed the heritage of hostility toward Rousseau's
thought. At the same time that William Boyd was busy with Rousseau's educational
thought, another British scholar, C. E. Vaughan was preoccupied with Rousseau's
political thought. Vaughan's accomplishment stands out as an accomplishment of
an entirely different order in comparison to that of Boyd. In no small part has
the excellence of the work done on Rousseau's political thought throughout the
twentieth century derived from the excellence of Vaughan's major work, <i>The
Political Writings of Jean Jacques Rousseau</i>, published in 1915. Whereas Boyd
chose to write an interpretative study and to present certain writings of
Rousseau important to his interpretation in translation, Vaughan chose a very
different course, one in which he eschewed immediate effect for long-lasting
influence. Vaughan chose to present Rousseau in a way that forced those who were
going to comment on Rousseau's political thought to deal with it, carefully,
substantively, fully. The <i>Political Writings of Jean Jacques Rousseau</i>
were precisely that, a critical edition in Rousseau's French of most everything
that Rousseau wrote on politics, with thorough introductions to each piece, as
well as a long, general introduction sting out with care the problems of
interpretation.<span class="cite"></span> Vaughan did not speak for Rousseau
within a field; he simply ensured that Rousseau would have the opportunity to
speak for himself to a field; and since Vaughan's work, Rousseau has continued
to speak provocatively to political thinkers, however mush they may argue over
what it is he says.</p>
<ref>See Volume III of the Pléiade edition of Rousseau's <i>Oeuvres
complètes</i>, <i>Du contrat social -- écrits politiques</i> (Paris: Editions
Gallimard, 1964). This edition is the standard scholarly edition, and its notes
of immense use. One should also be aware, however, of Rousseau's <i>Oeuvres
complètes</i> published in the Collection l'Intégrale (3 vols., Paris: Editions
du Seuil, 1967, 1971). This edition usefully complements the Pléiade; it does
not have extensive critical and interpretative notes to the texts, but it does
present numerous texts and excerpts to which Rousseau was often responding, for
instance, many of the polemics against the first <i>Discourse</i> and the text
of Monseigneur de Beaumont's condemnation of Emile.</ref>
<ref>Jean-Jacques Rousseau, <i>Oeuvres completes</i> (4 vols., Paris: Editions
Gallimard, 1959, 1964, 1964, and 196 ).</ref>
<p>3We need
not here work our way through the substance of Vaughan's work; it is a living
work that anyone bent on coming to terms with Rousseau will own and use as the
occasion merits even though the editions of Rousseau's writings in have finally
been superseded by yet better ones.<span class="cite"></span> Yet we do need to
note how Vaughan's work brings us to the real question for understanding the
development of the history of educational thought, for seeing clearly what needs
to be done if something is ever to come of the field. This question is simply,
why was there no similar effort by educational historians? Why did no one put
out with care and thorough dedication a standard edition, well introduced, of
<i>The Educational Writings of Jean-Jacques Rousseau</i>? One can well imagine
such a work. It might open with the parts of the <i>Confessions</i> and
<i>Reveries</i> covering Rousseau's development, the two versions of his "Plan
for the Education of M. de Sainte-Marie," the <i>Discourse on the Arts and
Sciences</i> and some of Rousseau's rejoinders to criticism of it, excerpts from
The <i>Discourse on Inequality</i> and the article on "Political Economy," the
draft essay "On the Origin of Language," the <i>Letter to d'Alembert on the
Theater</i>. The centerpiece of it, of course, would be excerpts from <i>La
nouvelle Heloise</i>, the "manuscrit Favre" of Émile and <i>Émile</i> itself,
the "Lettre—Monseigneur de Beaumont." It would then conclude with excerpts from
Rousseau's reflections on the constitutions of Corsica and Poland, parts of
<i>Rousseau juge de Jean-Jacques</i>, various letters bearing on education.
Throughout it all, a careful commentary would introduce each inclusion and
elucidate the problems of interpreting it reflectively in the context the whole.
Now, of course, we no longer need such a work, for it is there in the Pléiade
edition of Rousseau's <i>Oeuvres complètes</i>.<span class="cite"></span> All
the same, in Boyd's time, scholars did need it, and we should therefore ask why
some educational scholar did not then perform such a labor when the cognate
field of political thought so clearly demonstrated the possibility and value of
it.</p>
<ref>The first real effort along this line was James L. Axtell, ed., <i>The
Educational Writings of John Locke: A Critical Edition</i> (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1968).</ref>
<p>3In a
trivial sense, the answer to this question is obvious—the labor was not
performed because no one stepped forward to perform it. Yet there is a deeper
sense to the question, for anyone at all acquainted with the history of the
history of educational thought in English will realize that it simply would not
have occurred to a scholar in the field that such a labor could be of value.
English and American historians of educational thought did not do this kind of
work; they produced no full and careful edition of the pedagogical corpus of any
major figure.<span class="cite"></span> To ask why the work was not done on
Rousseau is to ask why it was not done on any thinker, to ask why loose, partial
translations were the norm, why no educational thinker was dealt with in depth,
no holds barred. To begin answering this question, we need to look more
carefully at how the field developed in English from the mid nineteenth century
up approximately to the start of World War I, to see what its controlling aims
and standards were as these took shape, in order to understand how these have
continued ever since to cripple the field and to saddle it with stifling,
inadequate aspirations.</p>
<h3 id="s2" class="sl">II—Beyond Bailyn, or the Task at Hand</h3>
<ref>That historians continually rewrite history is part of the lore of
historiography. That the practice results from sound reasons is best explained
by the great historicist historiographers. See especially R. G. Collingwood,
<i>The Idea of History</i> (1946) (New York: Galaxy Books, 1956) and Wilhelm
Dilthey, <i>Einleitung in die Geisteswissenschaften: Versuch einer Grundlegung
für das Studium der Gesselschaft and der Geschichte</i> (1883) <i>(Gesammelte
Schriften</i>, Vol. 1, Stuttgart: B. G. Teubner, 1962).</ref>
<p>3Historians
interpret the past and in doing that they become part of the account they give.
Since the concerns of living historians continually change, they continually
rewrite history and thus disclose new aspects of past experience, cumulatively
probing in essays at comprehension and evaluation. Thus, each generation of
historians rewrites history.<span class="cite"></span> One can observe this
process in most areas of historical interest, but not in the history of
educational thought. In English, the cumulative reinterpretation of past
educational thought has not begun.</p>
<ref>Bernard Bailyn, <i>Education in the Forming of American Society: Needs and
Opportunities for Study</i> (1960) (New York: Vintage Books, n.d.), pp.
3-15.</ref>
<ref>Lawrence A. Cremin, <i>American Education: The Colonial Experience,
1607-1783</i> (New York: Harper and Row, 1970), passim., particularly, Book I,
Part 1. For a thorough review of recent literature in the field, see Geraldine
Joncich Clifford, "Education: Its History and Historiography," in Lee S.
Shulman, ed., <i>Review of Research in Education,</i>, Vol. 4, <i>1976
</i>(Ithaca, IL: F. E. Peacock, 1977) pp. 210-267. In <i>The Wonderful World of
Ellwood Patterson Cubberley: An Essay on the Historiography of American
Education</i> (New York: Teachers College Press, 1965), Lawrence A. Cremin
called attention to "the need for a radical revision in our understanding of
Western educational history, one that would bring education back into the
mainstream of more general developments. Thus, in place of Cubberley's emphasis
on the 'pedagogical' greats of the nineteenth century—an emphasis he, in turn,
borrowed from Barnard and Barnard's translations of Von Raumer—one might inquire
into the broader educational influence of such men as Marx, Darwin, Hegel,
Comte, Nietzsche, Ruskin, Fichte, Goethe, Arnold, and Mill." (n. 66, p. 70) In
order to do this, we need to recognize that the undertaking is more radical than
simply revising the field as it exists in English. Even as it pertains to "the
pedagogical greats," scholarship in English has been sporadic and out of touch
with far better work being done in German, French, Italian, and Spanish. To
mount the inquiry Cremin calls for a field needs to be created, and for that to
happen, a set of generating questions need to be put and means for the pursuit
of them defined.</ref>
<p>3What
passes for the history of educational thought in English is a series of
repetitive and static textbooks, a small repertoire of more specialized studies
written long ago and continuously reprinted, and a few more recent studies, some
good, some bad, but in the aggregate, insufficient to nurture a scholarly field.
Such a criticism sounds much like the one that Bernard Bailyn so effectively
mounted in <i>Education in the Forming of American Society</i>, showing the
insufficiencies of the history of American education.<span class="cite"></span>
The criticism here mounted is a reiteration of Bailyn's critique, but not simply
a reiteration, which will become apparent as we probe some ways in which
weaknesses in the traditional history of American education differ from those in
the traditional history of educational thought. First, let us simply note that
the reawakening of American educational history during the past twenty years has
largely passed over the history of educational thought. Lawrence A. Cremin is
devoting a considerable portion of his <i>American Education</i> to the history
of educational ideas in America, but other than that, the great range of work
that now underway concentrates on the social causes and effects of changes in
American education.<span class="cite"></span> Bailyn did not call for a
rewriting of the history of educational thought, and scholars have not yet begun
systematically rewriting it.</p>
<ref>There is no sustained discussion of the historiography of educational
thought in English. At first glance, William K. Medlin's <i>The History of
Educational Ideas in the West</i> (New York: The Center for Applied Research in
Education, 1964), appears to be one, but it turns out to be more of a survey of
the subject. Sir John Adams devoted a chapter to "The Historical Aspect of
Educational Theory" in <i>The Evolution of Educational Theory</i> (London:
Macmillan and Co., 1912), pp. 72-103, but this chapter, and the whole book, was
more concerned with the philosophy of history than it was with historiography
and its effects in defining the field have been modest. Of the general studies
of the history of educational thought, most jump into a survey of the subject
after, at most, brief prefaces that do little to illuminate the field. E. B.
Castle's <i>Educating the Good Man: Moral Education in Christian</i> Times
(1958) (New York: Collier Books, 1962) is an historiographically interesting
work, but Castle said nothing more about its relation to the field than to
indicate its kinship to <i>The Growth of Freedom in Education: A Critical
Interpretation of some Historical</i> Views by W. J. McCallister, 2 vols.,
(1931) (Port Washington, NY: Kennikat Press, 1971). Of fairly general works, the
two last mentioned, along with Christopher Dawson's <i>The Crisis of Western
Education</i> (1961) (Garden City: Doubleday Image Books, 1965), are the most
significant attempts in English to pursue significant questions through the
history of educational thought, but they do not give shape to a field of
scholarship. A related area, of considerable significance to the history of
educational thought, has taken on clear, scholarly form in English, namely the
history of the classical tradition, and a sense of the difference between a
field in definition and one out of it can be attained by comparing the above
works and general texts in the history of educational thought with <i>The
Classical Heritage and its Beneficiaries</i> by R. R. Bolgar (1954) (New York:
Harper Torchbooks, 1964) and <i>The Classical Tradition: Greek and Roman
Influences on Western Literature</i> (1949) (New York: Galaxy Books, 1957). For
the advanced state of the historiography of educational thought in German, see
Klaus Schaller and Karl-H. Schafer, eds., <i>Bildungsmodelle and
Geschichtlichkeit: Ein Reportorium zur Geschichte der Pädagogik</i> (Hamburg:
Leibniz-Verlag, 1967), esp. 128-169.</ref>
<p>3By the
history of educational thought, I mean the study of past thinking about
education, of inquiry into its limits and possibilities, of assessment of its
repertoire of worthwhile goals and available means, of reflection on the
significance of educational achievements for life, personal and collective. As
early as men ceased living by instinct alone, as soon as men became cultural
beings, defined by qualities not completely transmitted by genetic inheritance,
education, the acquisition of character and culture, became a necessary
component of life. There is a history of what people have thought concerning
this component of life, of their hopes, expectations, and worries concerning it,
their aspirations and plans for it, their reflections and regrets about it. All
this is the history here in question. Scholars should make such a history of
educational thought a significant part of the history of education, and since
the late nineteenth century, when educators began to write a history of
education began in English, they devoted a fair amount of attention to the
history of educational thought.<span class="cite"></span> Yet the area has not
become a real field of sustained and systematic scholarship, and our problem is
to find out why that has been the case.</p>
<ref>In discussing the available literature in the field, I will mix together
works done by British and American scholars, for most significant work has been
available to anyone interested in it on both sides of the Atlantic. In
discussing the institutionalization of the field, the definition of its uses, I
will be primarily concerned with American patterns, although through the early
stages of the process, approximately to World War I, the differences between the
English and American patterns seem to me rather insignificant. It is my basic
conviction that neither in America nor Great Britain is the history of
educational thought a healthy field of scholarship and that the critique here
mounted, although primarily directed at the situation in the United States, is
basically valid for that in England as well. My impression, however, is that
British scholars have contributed more solid work in the history of educational
thought than have American, I suspect because British educationists fairly early
became less isolated from high-level scholarship than did American
educationists. I hold, however, that the field of educational history has not
developed on either side of the Atlantic as it might for one basic reason, a
failure to pursue a sufficiently demanding purpose for the field.</ref>
<ref>These emphases overlap within the early texts in the field. E. L. Kemp's
<i>History of Education</i> (Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott Co., 1901) reflects
a primary concern with the history of educational institutions, as does Frank
Pierrepont Graves' more extended <i>History of Education</i>, 3 vols., (New
York: Macmillan Co., 1909, 1910, 1913). Of works primarily concerned with the
history of ideas about educational aims and practices, Grabriel Compayré's
<i>History of Pedagogy</i>, W. H. Payne, trans., (Boston: D. C. Heath &amp; Co.,
1886), long held the field. So too, Robert Herbert Quick's <i>Essays on
Educational Reformers</i> (1868, 2nd ed., 1890) (New York: D. Appleton and Co.,
1917) created the type concerned primarily with educational biographies. Joseph
Payne's <i>Lectures on the History of Education</i> (London: Longmans, Greene,
and Co., 1892) were primarily concerned with the history of didactic method.
Ellwood P. Cubberley, in his <i>Syllabus of Lectures on the History of
Education</i> (New York: Macmillan Co., 1902), emphasized national school
systems, particularly in the second half of the work. F. V. N. Painter, in <i>A
History of Education</i> (1886) (New York: D. Appleton and Co., 1908), made the
rise of Protestantism an essential development in his account. Levi Seeley's
<i>History of Education</i> (New York: American Book Company, 1899) and Thomas
Davidson's <i>History of Education</i> (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1900)
both depicted the history of education as the story of mankind's conscious
evolution, although Seeley's account was much more cluttered than was
Davidson's. Of the pre-twentieth-century syntheses, the most balanced in its
coverage was <i>The History of Modern Education</i> by Samuel G. Williams (1892)
(Syracuse: C. W. Bardeen, 1886). Early in the twentieth century, Paul Monroe's
<i>Text-Book in the History of</i> Education (New York: Macmillan Co., 1905)
became the dominant text, at least in the United States.</ref>
<ref>Bailyn, <i>Education in the Forming of American Society</i> (1960), pp.
5-8, contrasted Davidson's <i>History of Education</i> and Eggleston's
<i>Transit of Civilization</i>, remarking that the latter "was laid aside as an
oddity, for it was irrelevant to the interests of the group then firmly shaping
the historical study of American education," while the former was greeted with
enthusiasm. Harry Hutton and Philip Kalisch have pointed out that Bailyn's
comparison has at best rhetorical value, for Davidson's book, except in the eyes
of Paul Monroe, was a dud; see "Davidson's Influence on Educational
Historiography," <i>History of Education Quarterly</i>, VI, 4 (Winter 1966), pp.
79-87. The point here is simply that the early historians of education, who may
have, as a sidelight to their work, firmly shaped the historical study of
American education, really had an historical concern quite different from
Bailyn's. To point this out is not to defend the quality of their achievements,
but to define accurately their undertaking. Their main concern, for better or
for worse, was not with the history of American education, but with the history
of Western education, which was the staple course, the year-long introductory
history of education, that they were all seeking to make the vehicle for
enthusing educators with a sense of the dignity of their profession. The extent
to which this course was taught can be gauged from Arthur 0. Norton, "The Scope
and Aims of the History of Education," <i>Educational Review</i>, Vol. 27, May
1904, pp. 443-455, and Henry Suzzallo, "The Professional Use of the History of
Education," <i>Proceedings of the Society of College Teachers of Education</i>,
1908, pp. 29-67.</ref>
<ref>See Jesse B. Sears and Adin D. Henderson, <i>Cubberley of Stanford</i>
(Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1957), p. 119: 79,623 copies of <i>Public
Education</i> through <i>1934;</i> 66,121 for <i>The History of Education</i>
through 1939. It is unclear whether the latter figure includes sales for the
<i>Brief History of Education</i> published in 1922. During these years, <i>The
History of Education</i> had considerable competition, not only from Monroe's
<i>Text-Book</i>, but also from William Boyd's <i>History of Western
Education</i>, published in 1921, and Edward H. Reisner's <i>Historical
Foundations of Modern Education</i>, published in 1931.</ref>
<p>4As
educators began to study the history of education in English, writers in the
field mixed together all sorts of material.<span class="cite"></span> Hence, in
viewing the early development of the history of educational thought, we need to
start with the history of education in general; this was in part the history of
educational institutions throughout Western history; in part the history of
ideas about educational aims and practices; in part a sequence of educational
biographies devoted to the great pedagogical reformers; in part a history of
didactic rigidity and change; in part a history of national school systems and
policies.<span class="cite"></span> Bailyn, in his <i>Education in the Forming
of American Society</i>, anachronistically projected a specific interest in the
history of American education upon the first American historians of
education.<span class="cite"></span> To begin with, the field was much more
amorphous than that and the most widely taught variant was a grand survey of
Western education, susceptible internally to several emphases -- cultural,
biographical, and institutional. Well into the twentieth century, this survey
was the staple course: Cubberley's <i>History of Education</i>, published in
1920, sold almost as many copies as did his <i>Public Education in the United
States</i>, and the former shared the market early on with a number of other
successful texts.<span class="cite"></span> Thus to understand the early
development of the history of educational thought, we need to follow critically
the emergence of the history of education, an often, but still imperfectly
studied phenomenon.</p>
<ref>Bernard Bailyn, <i>Education in the Forming of American Society</i>,
(1960), pp. 3-15, 53-58.</ref>
<p>4
Consequently, let us start our effort to find the reasons why the history of
educational thought has not become a field of scholarship by criticizing certain
aspects of Bailyn's argument in <i>Education in the Forming of American
Society</i>, for there are points at which Bailyn's critique was too
impassioned, with the result that significant distinctions were blurred. The
blurring of these distinctions made it difficult to understand precisely what
caused the traditional history to be weak and what constituted Bailyn's real
achievement, what gave his critique its leavening power. The main points of that
critique are by now well known: the history of American education had been a
repetitive, anachronistic search for the origins of the twentieth-century
educational system, particularly the system of public schooling; it had been
based on a narrow definition of education as schooling, one of interest to a
narrow professional audience but unsuited to guide investigation of the role of
education in American history; the tone of the whole endeavor arose from the
effort to dignify and enthuse the educational profession, not to speak
truthfully to the disinterested intellect; and the main workers in the field
were set apart, institutionally and intellectually, from other American
historians, content with their isolation from history as long as what they wrote
had an audience in education.<span class="cite"></span></p>
<p>4One need
only survey the fruits that have followed to be convinced of the substantial
validity in Bailyn's critique, and we shall see all the problems that he
identified in the history of American education richly exemplified in the
history of educational thought. But two questions need to be raised about
Bailyn's forays into the history of education, one concerning his assessment of
what caused the weaknesses in the traditional history of education, and another
concerning what it was in his critique that proved so liberating, so
constructive, what quality in <i>Education in the Forming of American
Society</i> provoked so much further work. Let us turn to the first of these
problems and probe it with some care, with particular reference to the early
history of educational thought, with the hope of coming to a more precise
comprehension of how and why the characteristic limitations of that history
arose. Having done that, we will be able to return to Bailyn's book and better
understand the reasons for its intellectual influence.</p>
<ref>Ibid., p. 9.</ref>
<ref>Bernard Bailyn, "Education as a Discipline, Some Historical Notes," in John
Walton and James L. Kuethe, eds., <i>The Discipline of Education</i> (Madison:
University of Wisconsin Press, 1963), p. 131.</ref>
<p>4Why did
the early history of education in English develop with such an anachronistic
interest in formal schooling and with such a parochial audience and evangelical
tone? Bailyn essentially contended that these qualities developed because
professional historians did not write the early histories, which were instead
the work of professional educators, who often lacked training as historians and
who almost invariably allowed certain educational goals to guide their work.
"The main emphasis and ultimately the main weakness of the history written by
the educational missionaries of the turn of the century derived directly from
their professional interests."<span class="cite"></span> This statement, I
think, is true, but not quite precise; it leaves unclear whether the problem
arose because early educational historians had paramount educational interests
at all, or because they had professional educational interests of a particular
nature, as distinct from other possible professional educational interests, that
caused their history to be weak. Bailyn seems to have held the former, general
diagnosis, for he did not try to resolve out the particular professional
interests at work and he wrote elsewhere that "one cannot avoid concluding that
a process of desiccation set in as the result of the emphasis upon the peculiar
concerns of education, reinforced by institutional barriers that served for two
generations to limit contacts between the general practitioners of history and
the specialists in education."<span class="cite"></span></p>
<ref>Lawrence A. Cremin, <i>The Wonderful World of Ellwood Patterson
Cubberley</i> (New York: Teachers College Press, 1965), pp. 43-6.</ref>
<ref>Ibid., pp. 46-52.</ref>
<ref>Recent educational historians have failed to address the question of the
relationship of the history of education to education effectively, with
potentially serious results. As the argument of this study unfolds it will
become increasingly clear that history, and the related disciplines in which
real human activities are studied in real human settings, to wit, anthropology,
sociology, politics, economics, social psychology, philosophy, are the best
means for developing knowledge, purpose, and skill with respect to educational
work. To anticipate the argument: from the very start, historians of education
accepted a trivial conception of the relation of their endeavor to the study of
education and to the education of educators. In the recent revitalization of the
history of education, that trivial conception has been perpetuated, perhaps even
trivialized further, and not only the historians, but all the practitioners of
the human sciences, are laboring, and are being belabored, without an adequate
conception of the significance of their work for the work of education. As a
result, the questions they put in their research and teaching are less
demanding, of themselves and others, than they could be, and the influence of
their work, on themselves and others, is far less than it should be.</ref>
<p>4Cremin has
already objected that Bailyn was too pat in suggesting that the traditional
history of education was anachronistic, parochial, evangelical, and isolated
because educationists, not historians, wrote it. Some historians showed the same
faults when addressing educational topics, and some educationists very pointedly
objected to these faults.<span class="cite"></span> But Cremin, too, did not
really search out the causes of the problem. He merely pointed out that
professional historians were as much responsible for the weaknesses of
traditional educational history as were educationists and turned to the task at
hand, revealed by Bailyn's achievement, of thoroughly revising the traditional
interpretation of American educational history.<span class="cite"></span> That
historians of education based in schools of education can write good history is
patent. What remains unclear, and it is becoming a matter of some urgency to
clarify, is the proper relationship of good educational history to the study of
education.<span class="cite"></span> Scholars have performed only half of the
critical task: we have become well aware of the shortcomings of traditional
educational history as history. The question remains, however: what was the
relation of traditional educational history to <i>education</i> and how did that
relation affect the quality of work in the field both as history and as
education?</p>
<ref>William W. Brickman complains of this parochialism in "Revisionism and the
Study of the History of Education," <i>History of Education Quarterly</i>,
4(1964), p. 220.</ref>
<ref>Brickman, Ibid., pp. 211-4, rather disjointedly points out various
classical, renaissance, and early modern trials at the history of education.
These works, however interesting, are not what is important here. As a field of
scholarship, the history of education started to develop in
late-eighteenth-century Germany and took substantial form early in the
nineteenth century. A scholarly field is not static, for its driving questions
and leading sources can change as practitioners of it mutually develop and
criticize their work, but a scholarly field is coherent and trans-personal, for
at any time there must be at least partial consensus within a group of
practitioners over what questions are relevant, what procedures are acceptable,
and what purposes are significant. The field is, in a sense, the transpersonal,
coherent cultivation, discussion, and development of the questions, procedures,
and purposes in force at any time. The first two chapters of Carl Diehl's
excellent study, <i>Americans and German Scholarship 1770-1870</i> (New Haven:
Yale University Press, 1978 , pp. 7-48, give a good sense of how German
philology came to cohere into a field of scholarship. Stephen Toulmin's <i>Human
Understanding</i> is a very important discussion, in a much broader context, of
the concept of a field in relation to the very possibility of knowledge.</ref>
<ref>These generalizations anticipate results that will be documented in the
ensuing chapters. Suffice it for now to note here that Werner Jaeger wrote
<i>Paideia: The Ideals of Greek Culture</i>, 3 vols., (Gilbert Highet, trans.,
Vol. 1, 2nd ed., New York: Oxford University Press, 1945, 1943, 1944) with
definite educational purposes in mind, stated clearly in the introduction to
Vol. 1, pp. xiii-xxix, and that these were the same purposes he had voiced
speaking directly to the educational issues of the time in "Humanismus and
Jugenbildung" (1921) in Jaeger, <i>Humanistische Reden and Vortrage</i> (2nd
ed., Berlin: Walter de Gruyter &amp; Co., 1960), pp. 41-67.</p><div
class="container"><p class="parabox">¶{{#counter:in1}}</p>—4One
characteristic of <i>Education in the Forming of American Society</i> is itself
extremely parochial—all the works cited in it are in English.<span
class="cite"></span> Bailyn, so fascinated by the transit of civilization in the
colonial period, showed no curiosity about it in the emergence of educational
history in the United States. The history of education, however, was one of the
many academic fields created in nineteenth-century Germany and imported into the
United States and England.<span class="cite"></span> Bailyn's study of the early
writing of educational history in the United States is like a study of the
nineteenth century emergence of the American university that made no mention of
the German university. If Bailyn had put the emergence of American educational
historiography at all into context, if he had compared it with the development
of German educational history, the need to probe more deeply the causes of
deficiencies he found in American work would have been evident. German
educational history, far from perfect, nevertheless did not prominently manifest
the characteristic failings of the American. For the most part, anticipating
significant exceptions, German educational history was the work of scholars
primarily concerned, not with history, but with education; it was nevertheless,
by and large, good history; and however good as history, whether written by
historians or educators, it was almost always written with an educational
purpose as its <i>raison d'être</i>.<span class="cite"></span> That early
American educational historians were primarily educators who made their
professional educational interests preeminent in their work did not itself cause
the weaknesses in their work. The real causality was more complicated.</ref>
<p>4In search
of that causality, let us follow with some care the transit of civilization; let
us observe how scholars imported the history of education into the
English-speaking world. In doing that, three things should become evident.
First, educators incorporated the history of education into the university
curriculum in a most peculiar way: they defined its pedagogical function prior
to the creation any body of scholarship in English in the field, with the result
that for several generations they specially tailored the scholarship, if you
will, to this pre-determined teaching function. Here was the source of
anachronism. Second, the timing of the original transfer of the field from
Germany to England and America was such that the transfer brought with it a very
unproductive, trivial conception of the role of history in the study of
education. Ironically, educational scholars institutionalized this trivial role
in the United States and England precisely at the time in Germany and elsewhere
that scholars were replacing it with a more significant function. Here was the
source of evangelicalism. Third, the special field of the history of education
was transported from Germany without importing as well the cultural source of
the field itself, namely, the more general philosophic, literary, and academic
proclivity to take education, self-cultivation, <i>Bildung</i>, as a matter of
fundamental importance, one that should command the attention of all engaged in
serious cultural work. Here was the source of parochialism. The upshot of these
peculiarities of the early history of education was that the area never became a
field of scholarship in the proper sense. Here was Bailyn's real achievement.
But let us turn to the beginning.</p>
<h3>III—Historical Pedagogy: The German Background</h3>
<p>4In
Germany, around 1800, two significant transitions were underway, each of which
deeply affected the emergence of the history of education as a field of study.
The first involved scholarship: leaders in the steady reform of the German
universities had invented and were developing the humanistic disciplines as
defined fields of scholarship. The second involved education: greater
flexibility, the expectation of change in material and cultural conditions of
life, weakened the hold of the traditional education through ascribed rank and
great interest built up in finding means to educate people for
self-determination. We cannot here do justice to either of these transitions,
but a few things should be noted about each.</p>
<p>4
Scholarship is an ancient phenomenon, but scholarly disciplines are a recent
invention. Traditionally, the university trained practitioners of three learned
professions—theology, law, and medicine. The arts were a propaedeutic.
Humanistic and scientific scholarship, while not excluded from the university,
did not center in it. Libraries, institutes, academies, publishing houses,
patrons, and salons were their foci until recent times. The work of Elizabeth L.
Eisenstein has made us well aware of how the development of printing was a
necessary condition for the development of modern scholarship, both scientific
and humanistic. Yet printing, alone, did not do the trick. The broad
availability of dependable printed texts powerfully stimulated work in history,
philosophy, the criticism of literature, all the human sciences. Yet another
problem impeded their systematic development, namely the happenstance emergence
at any particular time of people able to exploit the available materials. As
long as scholarship was a labor of love, an amateur endeavor, its progress would
be dependent on the accidents of genius and interest. Reforms in the German
universities, first at Halle and Göttingen, then with the new University of
Berlin, strengthened the arts faculties, and the interaction of institutional
imperatives, certain social needs, and important intellectual advances led to
the systematization of scholarly disciplines. With these, scholarship became
much less dependent on the accidents of genius, for they provided a dependable
means of recruitment, if not of genius, at least of talent, by making possible
systematic, professional training for prospective scholars in defined
fields.</p>
<p>4In this
process, the major step was that of defining the fields -- someone had to set
forth, clearly, authoritatively, rigorously, the problems and skills to be
mastered in philology, philosophy, history, geography, geology, chemistry,
psychology, economics, sociology, physics, and so on. This occurred first in the
oldest, least Baconian, of subjects, in the study of classical languages, which,
one can say without too much exaggeration, the powerful but inelegant work of F.
A. Wolf turned through a stroke into philology. Wolf clearly defined a problem,
"the Homeric question," and indicated authoritatively the genesis of the problem
and the materials and methods relevant to pursuit of its resolution. With that,
a recurrent occupation for learned men became a field of scholarship; the study
of classical languages became a discipline with definite boundaries, tested
techniques of inquiry, standards of argumentation, and a restricted audience of
scholars who shared a mastery of the sources and methods of the field. With the
field so defined, its practitioners could develop a new form of advanced
education, a university training that inducted the prospective scholar into the
pursuit of the discipline. As fields of scholarship emerged around the turn of
the nineteenth century, serious educators perceived opportunities to reform the
universities with the arts faculty offering an apprenticeship through active
research that prepared people for the professional creation of knowledge across
a broadening spectrum of disciplines.</p>
<p>5This
invention of disciplines was the technological basis for the reform of German
higher education. Without the disciplines, scholarship could not have displaced
preparation for the learned professions as the main concern of the universities.
Closely associated with the creation of the disciplines was a new teaching
technique, the seminar. One attended lectures to learn about a major figure's
findings; one worked in a seminar with a major figure to learn how to pursue
such findings for oneself. The seminar was the pedagogical expression and
presence of the discipline in the university; it was the means by which
apprentice and master joined in the continuous enterprise of creative
scholarship. The traditional learned professions had been relatively static
fields and the traditional university dominated by them had been strictly an
agency for the transmission of knowledge, not for its creation. The arts and
sciences, so long a propaedeutic, now became the vanguard of a new kind of
university, one through which the research imperative would make it a
dependable, productive source of new knowledge.</p>
<p>5At the
same time that the creators of academic disciplines were transforming the
institutions and activities of higher education, another, more general
transition was occurring in Germany and throughout the Western world.  Social,
technical, economic, political change was becoming a predictable feature of
personal experience across the social grades. The educational implications were
immense, particularly in Germany where people expressed the implications of
anticipated change in the conditions constraining the possibilities of life
almost exclusively through education. The traditional European culture was an
ascribed culture; across functions and ranks, from peasants and artisans through
burgers and nobles, the operative education was a complicated, traditional
system of conscious acculturation. We take for granted a culture of acquired
characteristics; what traditionally existed was a culture of ascribed
characteristics in a relatively stable environment, all the features of which
had evolved to work from birth on, according to each person's station, as a
powerful acculturating mechanism inducting each generation into its place, the
place of its forbearers. Everything was pedagogical drama—a public hanging,
harvest work and harvest festival, market days, the liturgies of religious
observation, the codified content of song and conversation, the journeyman's
travels, the lore of each local, the family tradition, das ganzes Haus, the
hearth and home. The stages of life were marked, not by psychological stages of
development, but by the traditional, social rituals celebrating the rites of
passage-baptism rite, confirmation ceremony, marriage festival, funeral
procession. In this context, schooling too served ascribed functions: minimal
literacy for the many and mastery of the necessary tools for those destined to
the learned professions.</p>
<p>5As the
pace of movement, innovation, communication accelerated in the eighteenth
century, as people began to anticipate experiencing significant changes in their
social and cultural surroundings, they began to see the pedagogical problem in a
radically different light. Traditionally, the infinite repertoire of pedagogical
dramas, which all performed continuously for each other, worked to insinuate and
enforce the social determination of each person according to station and rank.
During the eighteenth century, particularly among burgers of more than modest
means, the primary agents of accelerating change, a radically new idea of
education developed, one that aimed, not at the formation of a pre-determined
self, but one that would eventuate in a sustained capacity for
self-determination. In many areas of the Western world, people expressed their
growing awareness of the possibilities of self-determination primarily in the
pursuit of new political and economic aspirations, but in the German lands, they
channeled this awareness primarily through cultural and educational efforts.
This transition occurred, at first, not so much through the creation of new
educational agencies, but by the revitalization of existing agencies, by finding
ways to imbue them with the novel ideal of self-determination. This is perhaps
most evident in the wave of <i>Bildungsromane</i>, starting with Goethe's
<i>Wilhelm Meisters Lehrjahre</i>, in which the traditional modes of
acculturation to an ascribed character were shown to be a potential context for
a many-sided, slow and wonderful self-creation of character.</p>
<p>5Not only
through the <i>Bildungsromane</i>, however, were established agencies of
ascriptive education reinterpreted as potential means of self-determination, of
consciously acquired education. The enterprise was omnipresent. A host of works
for household educators propounded this principle, aiming to inform parents,
tutors, and pastors first with a better understanding of the processes by which
a person develops and matures to moral and intellectual autonomy and second with
a better comprehension of the cultural resources of proven use in that endeavor.
The early nineteenth-century reform of the traditional classical secondary
education in the <i>Gymnasium</i>, and its popularity among the bourgeoisie,
arose, in part, from the ideal of self-determination; the new classical
curriculum aimed not simply at mastery of Greek and Latin, but at substantial
involvement with the culture of Greece and Rome, precisely because people
believed such involvement to be conducive to autonomy in thought and action.
Structures of law, traditionally mechanisms of imposing ascriptive patterns of
conduct on people, were analyzed by Beccarria, Pestalozzi, Bentham, and others
as mechanisms influencing, often destructively, the acquisition of character by
many caught in anomalous situations, and the idea spread that laws should be
reformed so that they would function, at worst as neutral influences, at best as
positive influences, in each person's task of self-formation. Pestalozzi's
<i>Leonard and Gertrude</i> best summed up the whole vision: this educational
novel showed humble, local initiatives transforming, slowly but surely, the
entire repertoire of traditional, static, ascriptive acculturation into a new
configuration of agencies conducing to self-definition for all the members of
the community through humane education.</p>
<p>5Among
those interested in the improvement of education for self-determination were
figures active in the academic world. Traditionally teachers, both familial
tutors and gymnasium instructors, were recruited from graduates of the theology
faculties, who would put in time as teachers while awaiting appointment as
pastors, a wait that could sometimes be quite long in a situation where the
supply exceeded demand. In theological faculties responsive to the new climate
of concern, a trend toward offering work in pedagogy, the theory and practice of
education, developed. This initiative was part of the general reform of the
university then underway. The pedagogical seminars that developed offered work
on a high academic level: a student performed a certain amount of what we would
now call practice teaching along with a thorough study of the accumulated
knowledge about education, generally organized through categories of
anthropology and history. As pedagogical seminars began to be established, a
significant question arose: at a time when university professors were
preoccupied with the newly emerging, disciplinary bases for their work, so too,
those initiating pedagogical seminars had to pay considerable attention to the
methodological basis for the study of education.  During the early nineteenth
century, educational scholars thought the most promising grounding for the
systematic study of education was historical and philological: one could best
advance the understanding of education by the careful, critical inquiry into
past educational experience.</p>
<p>5August
Hermann Niemeyer (1754-1828), a theologian and educational reformer who was a
descendant of August Hermann Francke, first widely, albeit tentatively, voiced
this role for the history of education. Niemeyer grew up in highly cultured
surroundings, and he was at home throughout his life in the intellectual elite
of the German world. Trained in theology and philology, he started publishing,
at 21, an influential, multi-volume theological study, <i>Charakteristik der
Bibel</i>, the fifth volume of which appeared in 1782, the whole thereafter
going through several later editions. At 23, he became professor of theology (at
30, <i>ordinarius)</i> at the University of Halle, then one of the most advanced
universities. Throughout his life, it remained a center of his activity and he
served as its rector from 1808 to 1816. From 1784 on, he maintained a life-long
administrative role in the Francke Stiftung, a large complex of schools founded
by his forbearer and on which Niemeyer exerted most effective leadership. In
1796, Niemeyer published his <i>Grundsätze der Erziehung and des
Unterrichts</i>, which became a very popular book on education, valued for its
warm humanity and the wealth of educational experience it communicated. Starting
with the third edition in 1799, Niemeyer appended to it an historical outline,
Überblick der allgemeinen Geschichte der Erziehung and des Unterrichts.  In
addition, in 1813, Niemeyer published a compilation of <i>Originalstellen
grieschischer und römischer Klassiker über die Theorie der Erziehung and des
Unterrichts</i>. To Niemeyer, neither of these efforts was more than a start
towards "a complete history of what, from earliest times up to our own, has been
thought theoretically and done practically with respect to education and
instruction, of the men who have had the most significant influence, of the
institutions which have been dedicated to this end, of the literary works which
have been written to this purpose. . . . The materials for the whole lie
dispersed in the most heterogeneous writings.  Niemeyer suggested that educators
would find his outline informative and that presenting it might occasion further
investigation and treatment of the subject.</p>
<p>5We should
note two qualities in Niemeyer's work. First, his conception of education was a
large one. The <i>Grundsätze</i> specifically addressed parents, tutors, and
educators, and although Niemeyer paid substantial attention to the particulars
of instruction, he set that in a full discussion of cultivation and education.
Education cultivated the moral and functional autonomy of the real person living
in real conditions, and to do that well one had to work at each part of the
process effectively, ever alert to the relation of particulars to the whole
endeavor. Hence, he concentrated on the principles of education, for by
comprehending these, one would have the capacity to comprehend better how
particular aspects of education related to the whole. Although he did not
develop his historical overview fully enough to be sure, the way he approached
topics in it suggests that he viewed the history of education as an opportunity
to search out the principles of education as they operated in the real contexts
of human experience and to learn how better to use such principles to understand
the interworking of pedagogical particulars in the whole of people's educations.
This brings us to the second, notable quality: however sketchy Niemeyer's
outline was, the bibliographical <i>Anmerkung</i> to each section were the work
of a man in command of classical and biblical philology and a great deal of
cultural history. They started the history of education off as a serious
intellectual undertaking.</p>
<p>5Niemeyer
based this undertaking on an important conception of the relation between
history and education. Education took place in concrete situations in which an
extremely complicated interaction of developing personal capacities for both
good and bad interacted with the manifold particulars of the surrounding
cultural environment, which particulars were likewise an all-too-human mix of
the constructive and the destructive. To be helpful in this process, the
educator needed experience and insight, which one built up from three sources,
from pedagogical introspection concerning one's own educational situation as it
had unfolded in one's experience, from pedagogical reflection on the historical
experience of the educational process that had been accumulated, observing how
individuals and groups had, faced with diverse cultural configurations,
succeeded and failed to make these conduce to their human development, and from
pedagogical consideration of whatever other thinkers one could find who had
thought deeply about educational experience, their own and that of others. Thus,
history was an essential source of knowledge for the educator. Basic pedagogical
principles existed, but the educator could not understand them in the abstract,
for they were principles that existed and functioned only in the full texture of
historical life. (See esp. iii, 429-30)(trans in fn.)</p>
<p>5A few
years later, F. H. C. Schwarz (1766-1857) started to fulfill Niemeyer's hope
that his "Überblick" might engender further efforts, for Schwarz wrote the first
full and coherent history of education in German. Like Niemeyer, Schwarz was
both theologian and educational reformer.  He acquired extensive experience as a
pastor, teacher, and professor; he possessed learning, both deep and broad; he
had a mind at once clear, deeply religious, open, and suffused with a simple
optimism about human potentiality.  In 1804 Schwarz became a theology professor
at the University of Heidelberg, where for many years he ran the <i>pädagogische
Seminar</i>, which for the first ten years or so met jointly with the philology
seminar. In 1808, he spent some time visiting and working with Pestalozzi, whose
pedagogy he greatly respected, albeit with some reservation for its excessive
reliance on method. Schwarz wrote two major works on education,
<i>Erziehungslehre</i> and <i>Lehrbuch der Pädagogik and Didaktik</i>. The first
edition of the <i>Erziehungslehre</i>, which appeared in four volumes between
1802 and 1813, culminated with a two part, <i>Geschichte der Erziehung nach
ihrem Zusammenhang unter den Volkern von den alten Zeiten bis auf die
neuste</i>.</p>
<p>5In the
second edition of 1829, Schwarz expanded this history and moved it to the
beginning of the whole work, having come to the conviction that a theory of
education should be based on an historical foundation, that a sound theory of
education should rest on the cumulative educational experience of mankind. The
program he set forth for a history of education was ambitious: "whoever should
now want to write such a history must show us, first how the endeavor of
education itself has developed, second how education has been conducted through
the instructional and cultural institutions for the young, and third what has
been learned about the activity of these institutions, which the most important
theories on them were, and what literature there is on them.  Schwarz's
conception of the endeavor of education led not to narrow school histories.
"Thus family, state, religion, morals, law, the entire people, and other
peoples, in brief the whole infinity of life is indeed needed in order to grasp
the being and becoming of a single man.  Such a proper history was unattainable,
then, perhaps now, yet Schwarz proposed to make a start by somewhat more
narrowly defining the task, "namely as <i>Geschichte der
Erziehungsidee."</i></p>
<p>6I leave
untranslated Schwarz's phrase, "history of the educational idea," in order to
call attention to the peculiarities of the phrase. For Schwarz it was a single
idea, the history was not to be the history of educational ideas in their
multiplicity, but of one idea, the idea of education. The human capacity to
educate had unfolded in history as people had acted, generation after
generation, in manifold concrete situations, guided by the idea of education.
The achievements and possibilities wrought with reference to this idea were by
no means immediately manifest to anyone. To find what the possibilities of
education were, to bring an optimal repertoire of these possibilities to bear in
educational effort, and to understand the problems of formative development,
people needed a history of the idea of education, a history that would enable
them to comprehend the sum of activity the educative idea had guided. Thus, the
history of education did more, for Schwarz, than illustrate sound and unsound
methods; it did more than inspire educators with professional pride. The history
of education empowered people to think and act educationally; it enabled people
to grasp the range of educational possibilities that had taken hold in their
experience and to achieve further possibilities, they would have to do so by
extending further the historical actualities of education. Education existed in
history; therefore, scholars could best study it through history.</p>
<p>6Like
Niemeyer, Schwarz thought that history was the source of knowledge from which
the educator could gain substantive insight into the principles and practices of
his endeavor. Men did not discover or derive the idea of education from
reflection or speculation, from acquired knowledge or science. The idea of
education was implicit, inherent in the human condition, "with the first family
on the earth this idea is met in life.  (Ballauf 559) The possible
concretizations of the idea of education have come into being, not through
thought alone, but through human experience, through thoughtful action.
Pedagogical surprise will always be possible, and the full potentiality of the
idea of education will come only when the history of man's self-creation has
reached a completion in eternity. (ELIi7) We are ever on the way, creating
ourselves anew, and we cannot know the end, we can at best only interpret and
understand past achievements, to draw on them creatively in our own task of
self-creation. It was insufficient to turn to the history of education simply to
draw inspiration for a pre-determined course: "we must first see what has up to
now happened and how we have been brought to our own education before we can
know what we have to do in order to form and educate our children well.  (Ibid.,
p. xiii) To learn from history properly, one had to approach it with a dual
expectation: first that it should delineate precisely the stage at which
humanity stands at each point and second that it should function instructively
in the immediate present with everything submitted to reflection; that it should
not only give historical instruction about the past, but that it should also
yield us more insight into the present educational task.  (Ibid., p. 7)</p>
<p>6Schwarz
gave a significant start to historical pedagogy, an effort to form a sound
theory of education through thorough inquiry into the history of education and
careful reflection on the results of this inquiry.  Such a history of education
was more than an ancillary specialty within the broader, university level study
of education. Historical pedagogy was the methodological grounding for the early
university level study of education.  The major contemporary criticism of
Schwarz's work took it to task precisely on these methodological grounds. This
criticism was the work of none other than J. F. Herbart, who wrote a long review
of the 1829 edition of Schwarz's <i>Erziehungslehre.  </i>It is instructive
about the tensions affecting the ensuing development of historical pedagogy and
the methodological grounding of the study of education to note certain of
Herbart's criticisms.</p>
<p>6Herbart
began and ended his review by stating his conviction that two systematic
disciplines were helpful in constructing a sound pedagogy: ethics, which gave
guidance concerning educational ends, and psychology, which helped determine
sound educative means. Herbart recognized, very grudgingly at times, that
Schwarz had something to contribute to both pedagogical ethics and psychology,
but Herbart contended that the empirical density of Schwarz's work marred the
usefulness of these contributions. For Herbart, extensive historical inquiry
"contributes neither to the resolution, nor even to the illumination, of
present-day pedagogical questions.  (350) Herbart found that Schwarz not only
spent precious time with irrelevant matters, but that he was often
insufficiently critical where matters were relevant, that he did not explain
past errors in the light of later findings clearly enough. It was not that
Schwarz was uncritical of past pedagogical thinkers, but that he explained their
failings historically, when, in Herbart's view, "the deficiencies of previous
speculative knowledge largely bore the guilt.  (362)</p>
<p>6Herbert
and Schwarz disagreed over the function of educational history within the study
of education. Both recognized that to make education a practical endeavor, one
could never reduce it to a closed, internally consistent, abstract system. Both
recognized the importance of seeking some kind of coherence in the complicated
texture of educational experience.  Herbart suggested, however that they
disagreed over the intellectual source of that coherence. "Pedagogy is a
practical science in which it is important that one recognize the continuity of
its development so that no unnecessary mistrust of it works against it. For
pedagogy, however, there is a different continuity that is still more important
for it than any historical continuity, namely, the psychological.  (371) Herbart
welcomed a useful history of education, but he criticized Schwarz's for
excessive detail and scope, which would divert the attention of the practical
educator from more important matters, and he suggested that Schwarz failed to
make his history as practically useful as it might have been had he been more
active in turning past practice into exempla of psychologically sound and
unsound procedures. For Schwarz, education was a human activity that unfolded in
history and had ultimately to be understood through history, without reference
to supra-historical constructs valid for all times and places; for Herbart, in
contrast, ethics and psychology, properly pursued by speculative reason, could
yield a supra-historical pedagogical knowledge, which then could be applied to
history to demonstrate its relevance and value for the present.</p>
<p>6Herbart's
criticisms would have marked effects on German students of education and
educational history, but they did not take hold immediately.  The next major
figure in the development of historical pedagogy was Friedrich Cramer
(1802-1859), who in 1832 published the first volume of his <i>Geschichte der
Erziehung and des Unterrichts im Alterthume</i>, devoted to educational
practice, and who followed it in 1838 with a second volume on educational theory
in antiquity. One sees in this work, as well as in Cramer's ensuing book on the
<i>Geschichte der Erziehung and des Unterrichts in den Niederlanden während des
Mittelalters</i> (1843), the start of greater specialization in the treatment of
the subject. From 1830 to his death, Cramer devoted himself to educational and
cultural activity in the Prussian coastal city of Straslund, where he directed
the gymnasium. Through his work, Cramer remained true to Schwarz's aim to
develop good educational theory and practice through inquiry into the history of
education. "The history of education is a requisite of education, and as there
is no true and complete philosophy without the history of philosophy, and
generally no science without the history of it, in the same way there is no true
educational theory without a basic examination of the history of education. . .
.  (xxv) Cramer had prepared well for this work. His father was a teacher, and
by the age of fourteen, the son decided on an educational career. Musically
talented, he supported his studies at the University of Berlin by teaching
music. At the university, he studied with many of the leading figures,
Schleiermacher, Ranke, Alexander von Humboldt, the philologists, Boeckh and
Lachmann, and many others. Perhaps most influential of these was August Boeckh,
to whom Cramer dedicated his study of ancient education, and the full mastery of
the classical corpus displayed in that work demonstrates that indeed Cramer's
philological training had been excellent.</p>
<p>6Cramer's
historical pedagogy, informed by a firm commitment to education and based on a
solid competence in philology and history, indicated one path that the whole
effort would follow, namely that of a painstaking effort to inform practice
through historical inquiry and reflection. Soon, however, another figure began
to publish a history of education, one that indicated a very different path of
development. He was Karl von Raumer (1783-1865) whose extensive, somewhat
disjointed <i>Geschichte der Pädagogik vom Wiederaufblühen klassischer Studien
bis auf unsere Zeit</i> began to appear in 1843. Raumer was the younger brother
of the great member of the Berlin "historical school," Friedrich von Raumer.
Both were many-sided men, but Friedrich seemed to achieve a unity of his
qualities that Karl never did. Karl von Raumer set out to study law, but passed
from that into a somewhat haphazard study of geology. While completing his
geological studies he became enthused with education on reading Pestalozzi and
Fichte, and spent some months in 1810 at Iferton acquainting himself with
Pestalozzian methods. Between 1811 and 1823, he published quite a bit in the
field of geology and taught mineralogy at Breslau and Halle. One would expect
from his commitment to geology that his views would have been secular, but
throughout his life a strong Lutheran, Augustinian commitment dominated his
outlook. In 1823, his superiors suspected him of harboring democratic political
views and made his professorial position difficult. He resigned to work in a
school in Nuremberg with a strongly religious curriculum, so strongly religious
that it progressively lost pupils, having to close in 1826. In 1827, through the
intercession of friends, he received a call to be professor of mineralogy at the
University of Erlangen, where he remained for the rest of his career. There, in
addition to his history of education, he wrote a textbook on geography, edited
Augustine's <i>Confessions</i>, and published several collections of hymns.
Ultimately, his religiosity was primary: "what he called for," one writer
observed, was "simple education on the basis of the Bible and the catechism
according to paternal, evangelistic mores.  (679)</p>
<p>6Raumer's
<i>Geschichte der Pädagogik</i> was a substantial work, but one that shows the
markings of an amateur historian. It filled certain needs that were beginning to
be felt, however. For one, the coverage in it answered the criticism Herbart had
mounted against Schwarz, for Raumer wasted no time with the crusty middle ages
or the ancients. In the first two volumes, Raumer covered the educational
history from the renaissance through Pestalozzi, emphasizing education in the
German areas, through "a sequence of biographies" of varying length according to
his sense of the importance of each leading figure. In this way, he sought to
personify the historical development of the <i>"Bildungsideale . . .</i> through
which a people, in the sequence of their developmental epochs, are ruled," and
at the same time, he aimed to show how, in each epoch, the mature strove to
realize the formative ideal in the young. In the third volume, Raumer dealt with
the pedagogy of the recent past in Germany under four headings: 1) Family,
School, Church, 2) Instruction, 3) Schools of Science and Art, and 4) the
Education of Girls. At the end of the section on Instruction, he inserted what
had been a short, separate book, with its own Foreword, on <i>Instruction in
German</i>, and a long set of aphorisms on the teaching of history. The final
volume, which appeared in 1854, was an incomplete but informative study of
German universities, highly autobiographical in parts.</p>
<p>6Through
Raumer's <i>History of Pedagogy</i>, one senses an urge to achieve encyclopedic
fullness. The first two volumes read as a collection of separate essays. Great
men lurch upon the stage, each in his individuality, and the coherence of the
whole story derived, not from Raumer's capacity to explain the interconnections,
but from the consistent pattern of evaluation that he applied to each figure
with whom he dealt. Raumer wrote, in effect, a series of biographical
encyclopedia articles, and so too the third volume comprised a series of
substantial articles on different aspects of recent practice. The incipient
encyclopedism in Raumer's work connected to another, even more important,
quality, a changed sense of the use of history. To Raumer, history was not an
arena of inquiry to which scholars seeking better answers to open questions
turned. Raumer had a definite set of convictions, which he derived not from his
study of history, but which he brought as an external framework to his study of
history.</p>
<p>6Raumer
forewarned his readers: "free from love and hate, I am not, nor will I be; I
will by the best knowledge and scruple hate evil and adhere to the good, just as
I neither call the sweet sour nor the sour sweet.  (I, vii) Raumer may well have
been addressing these remarks to his brother as a self-conscious apology for his
own departure from the canons of the historical school, for he introduced his
avowal of love and hate by recognizing that historians normally pursue an
"objective presentation," although he would not. The history of education in
Raumer's hands became a great morality play, illustrative of what he sincerely
believed to be pedagogically right and pedagogically wrong. If a reader did not
share Raumer's premises, that was the reader's problem "from a church historian
who expresses his puritanical convictions dogmatically, no sensible reader
expects a nonpartisan evaluation of the Middle Ages.  If the reader shared
Raumer's premises, he would find the work to be of practical value. "When in
this history the ideals and methods of diverse pedagogues are described,
readers, particularly practical schoolmen, will be forced to compare their own
opinions and procedures to them. When these coincide with those of a reader, he
will be gratified and have a feeling of satisfaction; when these diverge, he
will be moved to examine both his own and the others, with the result, either
that he will preserve his own with even more conviction or that he will change
them. I gladly confess that it is, above all, a <i>practical</i> end, as I here
describe it, that has driven me to this work and guided me in performing it.
(Ibid.)</p>
<p>7A subtle
shift in the purpose of educational history had occurred with Raumer's work.
Knowledge of the past rather than inquiry into the past had become the prime
desideratum. There was, his account suggested, a practical value in acquiring
this knowledge of the past, for it would strengthen the convictions of
present-day educators, whether or not they agreed with past practices and ideas.
This was essentially the view of educational history Herbart had formed. He
thought knowledge about the educational past was useful, especially knowledge
about the relevant past. Herbart did not want history, however, to become a
source of knowledge about proper educational practice; this knowledge was to
come from ethics and psychology. In the Herbartian view, the history of
education could have practical worth when used precisely in the way Raumer
suggested, when past practice was presented to the present educator in such a
way that he could bring a general pedagogy, derived from ethics and psychology,
to bear, analyzing what was right and wrong in past practice, thus strengthening
his mastery of educational science.  Pedagogically, Raumer was not a Herbartian,
but his assemblage of knowledge about pedagogy since the renaissance lent itself
very well to Herbartian uses, and as a result, the Herbartian movement of the
nineteenth century was able to incorporate the history of education into its
pedagogical system.</p>
<p>7For forty
years following Raumer's <i>Geschichte der Pädagogik</i>, no history of
education appeared in which there was a powerful effort to develop an
understanding of educational purpose and practice from a careful, reflective
study of the past. Instead, many educational historians busily worked building
up information about the educational past. Various groups and individuals wrote
textbooks; they published source collections; and they conducted diverse
specialized studies. All this activity followed naturally from Raumer's
encyclopedic tendencies and it fit well with the Herbartian idea that the
history of education should serve as an instructional aid for systematic
pedagogy, illustrating sound and unsound developments for prospective educators.
Late in the century, K. A. Schmid directed a mammoth synthesis bringing all
these diverse contributions together into the <i>Geschichte der Erziehung vom
Anfang an bis auf unsere</i> Zeit. With this work, the encyclopedic culmination
of the early German history of education was unmistakable, for Schmid's
<i>Geschichte</i> really presented in chronological format, materials that
Schmid was simultaneously developing for the ten-volume <i>Encyklopädie des
gesammten Erziehungs- und Unterrichtswesens</i>, which he published at the same
time. Both parts of the enterprise, the <i>Geschichte</i> and the
<i>Encyklopédie</i> reflected the conviction that what practical educators
needed was not disinterested inquiry into the nature and effects of education in
historical experience, but access to practical knowledge about the conduct of
education. The <i>Geschichte</i> gave a vast range of information with little
effort by the historians to make pedagogical sense of it all: that was the work
of systematic pedagogy, not historical pedagogy.</p>
<p>7Late in
the century, Wilhelm Rein gave a clear, pointed statement of the relation of
historical and systematic pedagogy. Rein was the last of the great Herbartians,
systematizer of the tradition of systematic pedagogy, editor of the
<i>Encyklopädisches Handbuch der Pädagogik</i> and author of a three-volume
<i>Pädagogik in systematischer Darstellung</i>. These authoritative works were
the fulfillment of nineteenth-century German educational science and had great
influence over those initiating educational scholarship in the United States and
England. Consequently, although Rein was not an historian of education, his
treatment of it became the program for educational history imported into the
United States and England. In both his book and his plan for the encyclopedic
handbook, Rein divided pedagogy into two parts, the systematic and the
historical. The table displaying his conception is rather comical: he organized
all positive knowledge pertinent to education under the heading of systematic
pedagogy; Rein left historical pedagogy, a division nominally equivalent to
systematic pedagogy, completely empty, for he held that however informative it
might be, it yielded no positive knowledge about education. History was purely
illustrative of knowledge achieved through other means. In explaining this
conception in the <i>Pädagogik</i>, Rein quoted Schwarz without citation "it is
still a widely voiced opinion that we must first see what has up to now happened
and how we have been brought to our own education before we can know what we
have to do in order to form and educate our children well. . . . We hold this
sequence to be false.  (i, 100)</p>
<p>7For Rein,
exactly the opposite was true. To write history well, the historian had to
master systematic, scientific pedagogy first, before looking at the past, for
only then could the historian judge rightly what he found in the past, for only
then would the historian have the knowledge requisite to discriminate soundly
between what was right and wrong in past practice.  "One must first have
acquired through speculation and experience a solid, all-around theory before
the history of previous efforts can be studied with success.  Without such a
theory grounded in the systematic study of education and a rigorous ethics and
psychology, the student will lack "the standard with which to judge previous
efforts.  Without an external grounding in systematic pedagogy, the complexity
of educational history will discourage the student, who will fall into an
"unprincipled eclecticism.  It is different for those who seek to create for
themselves an entirely grounded standpoint through ethics and psychology "for
them, history will really be able to be a veracious teacher.  (i, 100-1) One
could not imagine a much more authoritative rational for the characteristic
weaknesses in the early history of education written in English, both their
historical weaknesses and their educational weaknesses.</p>
<h3>IV—Further Material</h3>
<blockquote>[The following material will be expanded into section "4
-- Inspiration for an Oppressive Pedagogy," and some of it into the germ of
section 5, for which 1 do not yet have a title, perhaps "the foundation of
<i>geisteswissenschaftliche Pädagogik</i>"]</blockquote>
<p>7In England
and the United States, the history of education began to develop in the middle
of the nineteenth century. This was the time of Raumer's ascendancy in German
educational history and his work provided the inspiration and raw materials for
the first histories of education in English, particularly in the first wave of
work in educational history, occurring in the 1850's and 1860's. Thus in 1868,
Robert Herbert Quick remarked in the first edition of his <i>Essays on
Educational Reformers</i>: "'Good books are in German,' says Professor Seely. I
have found that on the history of education, not only good books, but all books
are in German or some other foreign language."  The book that Quick averred to
be the best, and in this his judgment was shared by his American colleague,
Henry Barnard, who had been encouraging interest in the history of education
through his American Journal of Education, was, of course, Raumer's
<i>Geschichte der Pädagogik</i>.</p>
<p>7Like
Raumer, Barnard and Quick attributed practical value to educational history.
They were key participants in the effort to extend schooling, to improve its
quality, to professionalize teaching. From roughly 1840 on, the reform of
schools was one of the great causes moving people in Europe and America, and the
professionalization of teachers was one of the major means through which
reformers proposed to improve the schools. To professionalize teachers, they
needed formal training in their craft, one major component of which became the
history of education. Texts for teachers on the subject became a common staple.
Several appeared in German in the 1850's and more followed, their titles
specifying, "for pupils in the teachers' seminars," "for clergymen and teachers
of both confessions," "for German common school teachers," "for student-teachers
in the higher teaching institutions." Barnard and Quick, along with many others,
believed the history of education could serve as a useful tool in the
preparation of teachers and educators. In 1859, Barnard wrote the Introduction
to a <i>History and Progress of Education from the Earliest Times to the
Present</i>, a text much like those in German, "a manual for teachers and
students.  It was important, Barnard suggested, that educators learn something
of the history of their craft so that they do not continually repeat errors and
reinvent sound practices. Quick had almost exactly the same rationale in mind in
writing his <i>Essays</i>. "Practical men in education, as in most other things,
may derive benefit from the knowledge of what has already been said and done by
the leading men engaged in it, both past and present.  (Quick, xiv) Barnard and
Quick developed the history of education in English to perform practical
functions for the nascent educating profession. Their histories became part of
the stock of professional resources, taught to teachers and popularized to the
public. The type of educational history Raumer had developed and Schmid had
brought to fulfillment exactly suited this purpose. The aim was to build up a
broad repertoire of information about past practices and ideas and to put it in
a form that would illustrate good practices, enabling teachers and educators to
absorb essential norms of their profession. </p>
<p>7A second
wave of contributions to the history of education in English started in the
1880's and continued until the onset of World War I. The authors of these
histories had purposes similar to those of Barnard and Quick, and their agenda
for the history of educational thought was entirely consistent with that set
down by Schmid and Rein. Through this second wave, an extensive set of
historical materials for use in the preparation of teachers appeared in English.
From the mid 1880's on, year by year scholars published numerous texts,
translations, selections from great thinkers on education, and studies of
particular periods and institutions. True, there was nothing like K. A. Schmid's
comprehensive, detailed <i>Geschichte der Erziehung</i>, unless one counts as
such the vast, varied, mish-mash of historical materials Henry Barnard had put
out in mid century. Nevertheless, by 1902 there were at least a dozen general
texts on the history of education or the development of educational thought. In
addition a passel of books on particular periods were available, diminutive
little books like George Clark's <i>Education of Children at Rome</i> and thick
detailed books like Augusta T. Drane's <i>Christian Schools and Scholars</i>.
Most important for the history of educational thought was the endless stream of
books devoted to individuals and groups renowned for their educational theories.
By 1902, students would find available books on the educational writings and
work of a considerable range of figures, among them Alcuin, Aristotle, Richard
Busby, Comenius, Descartes, Erasmus, Fénelon, Froebel, Hartlib, Herbart, Loyola
and the Jesuits, Luther, Melanchthon, Milton, Montaigne, Mulcaster, Pestalozzi,
Plato, Rousseau, and Vittorino da Feltre.</p>
<p>7A few of
these were of high quality, a good instance being <i>Philip Melanchthon, the
Protestant Preceptor of Germany, 1497-1560</i> by James William Richard.
Although introductory in style, this book was thoroughly researched, and
although appearing in a series called "Heroes of the Reformation," it was
objective in presentation, crafted to inform curiosity, not to convert opinion.
More typical of the whole lot was F. V. N. Painter's <i>Luther on Education</i>.
This was a partisan tract, partisan for Luther and partisan for state supported
popular education. Luther's letter to the mayors and aldermen of the cities of
Germany on behalf of Christian Schools, Painter held, "must be regarded the most
important educational treatise ever written.  (iii) As part of the "historical"
background needed to comprehend Luther on education, Painter included a chapter
on the Papacy and popular education, which dealt almost entirely with late
nineteenth-century matters. It concluded: "1. we should carefully observe the
insidious movements of the Papacy; 2. recognizing the separation of Church and
State . . . , we should nowhere tolerate sectarian legislation; 3. maintaining
the right of the State to educate its citizens, we should forbid the
appropriation of any public funds to sectarian schools; 4. all public school
offices should be filled with recognized friends of popular education. . . .
(51) And twenty-three pages later, we learn of course who these recognized
friends of popular education were: "in principle and in fact Protestantism is
the mother of popular education and the friend of culture.  (74)</p>
<p>7Painter's
strong sectarian bias was slightly atypical, although not as much as one might
think. Raumer's history, perhaps more subtly, nevertheless rested as fully on a
Lutheran faith, as did Painter's. Raumer had closed his third volume with a
credo, an elevated statement of a Lutheran pedagogy. "Christ spoke: be perfected
as your father in heaven is perfected. Thus he put before us the highest model
and reminded us of the lost paradise where man's still unfallen image remained.
(III, 443) The difference between Raumer and Painter was simply in the
opposition they chose; what the Papacy was for the latter, Rousseau was for the
former, the insidious exponent of Pelagian pedagogy. "Already the comparison of
the two [Christ and Rousseau] can convince anyone that the division of pedagogy
into Pelagian and antipelagian is fundamental and of the greatest practical
significance."(III, 442) If a bit distinct in its sectarian bias, the structure
and intellectual standards in Painter's book certainly typified numerous
contributions to the history of educational thought in English. It included
several introductory chapters, which superficially set the scene for
translations of two of Luther's short texts on education. We might best
characterize the work as a "terminal introduction," written on the assumption
that the reader could profit from knowing something about the subject, but
making no effort to raise problems for further inquiry or to orient the reader
in the sources or literature that might sustain further inquiry.</p>
<p>7Early
studies in English in the history of educational thought convey the overwhelming
impression that the whole field was a terminal introduction for prospective
teachers and pedagogical practitioners. Numerous studies and
translations—Oliphant's <i>Mulcaster</i>, Lupton's <i>Fénelon</i>, Holman's
<i>Pestalozzi</i>, Mackenzie's <i>Hegel</i>, Compayré's <i>Spencer</i>, Jolly's
<i>Ruskin</i>, and Crosby's <i>Tolstoy</i class="par1 sl">—appeared with
virtually no critical apparatus. The better works, often those in Nicholas
Murray Butler's series, "The Great Educators," or in William Torrey Harris',
"International Education Series," or in Edward Franklin Buchner's "Lippincott
Educational Series," were nevertheless introductions for use in courses in
teacher training. Most of these would convey to the reader that there was a body
of thought about the man in question, but give no real access to it. The
treatment was superficial; it would make a figure's accomplishments relevant to
contemporary education paramount while glossing over the difficulties of setting
the figure's work in the context of his time. Such studies generally segmented a
person's pedagogical ideas and activities from the rest of his or her life and
work and concentrated on those elements that one could specifically present as
educational. So simplified and capsulized, diverse historical figures became
predictable and homogeneous, all illustrating variations on the set ideas that
reformers believed were useful to teachers and a supportive public --
informative, broadening, inspiring.</p>
<p>8In its
early stages, the history of education, particularly the history of educational
thought, consisted almost exclusively of efforts at popularization. The field
did not exist as a field of disciplined inquiry.  There were no clearly defined
problems or research questions in it. Historians of educational thought wrote
numerous justifications of it as part of the teacher-training curriculum; none
that I have been able to find discussed a research agenda for its practitioners.
In early discussions of the history of education, writers would sometimes
complain about the poor quality of texts and studies in the field, but such
complaints made clear that the standard of quality was the suitability of the
texts and studies as teaching instruments in history of education courses.
Justifications of the field dealt with it as an area of inquiry only in passing.
The field had value in training professional educators; that was its reason for
being. "To the teacher the study of the history of education brings three
valuable results. It widens his professional horizon and makes him feel the
dignity of his calling. It gives him true pedagogic perspective and enables him
to estimate accurately the value of courses of study and methods of teaching. It
inspires him, for the great teachers with whom it makes him acquainted were
sacrificial high priests who mediated to the world its higher life, and they
themselves were sacrifices.  ("E. L. Kemp. History of Education, vi-vii)</p>
<p>8Since
authors were pursuing no real research questions, they produced work that gave
very spotty coverage of the relevant past. Quirks of interest and fashion
determined the patterns of coverage, and the tendency to concentrate on single
figures in relative isolation from their intellectual and educational context
created an impression that educational thought developed by a type of
spontaneous generation from a series of unrelated reformers and thinkers.
Multiple studies, none of which stood out as truly distinguished, surveyed the
educational work of Herbart, Pestalozzi, and Comenius. Other figures like Hegel
and Kant were occasional subjects of studies. Edward Franklin Buchner's The
<i>Educational Theory of Immanuel Kant</i> gives a good sense of the strengths
and weaknesses of this literature. The book comprises close to a hundred pages
of introductory material, a translation of <i>Über Pädagogik</i>, and
translations of selected fragments from Kant's corpus dealing with education.
Buchner's introductory material gives an adequate orientation, a brief survey of
Kant's life and work, the textual history of <i>Über Pädagogik</i>, a very brief
discussion of some of the sources Kant drew on in forming his educational
theory, capsule discussions of Kant's philosophical outlook, his psychological
ideas, his concept of development, followed by a summary and then a critique of
his theory of education, concluding with a four-page bibliography.(Buchner 1904)
The book, like many others of the genre, had a basic weakness: it would give a
reader a good sense of what Kant said about education, but a very uncertain
comprehension of Kant's significance for education. Neither the discussion of
Kant in relation to his predecessors nor of Kant in relation to later
developments in educational thought is adequate. The few paragraphs devoted to
Rousseau and Kant deal entirely with superficial similarities and differences
between their pedagogical prescriptions; they did not reflect a close reading of
Rousseau or a sense of the possible basis for the close intellectual sympathy
Kant felt for Rousseau. In the same way, in the annotations Buchner made to
Kant's texts, he pointed out similarities and differences between Kant's
positions and those of later German educational writers, but there was no
serious attempt to uncover, define, and explain Kant's impact.</p>
<p>8Buchner's
work condescended towards both the reader and its subject in a way typical of
the entire early literature in the history of educational thought. Every field
needs an exoteric corpus, which scholars write by leaving aside certain
complexities, but no healthy field of study can consist in only an exoteric
corpus. Such a situation can come about only when scholars assume that their
audience cannot take too much, and that the subject of the field, in the end,
really does not merit a thorough probing <i>au fond</i>. The impetus towards
writing educational history in the late nineteenth century came from the desire
to build effective national school systems staffed by professionals.  Leaders of
this effort saw themselves culminating a long tradition of educational
aspiration; they were at the historical summit. From this perspective,
everything was essentially a problem of mobilization; they needed to mobilize
resources, to mobilize teachers, to mobilize the public too, and even to
mobilize the educational past. How could the past serve their purposes? If the
pedagogical present was the summit, the pedagogical past was at best a
preparation, and they dealt with it as such. The history of educational thought
should inform, caution, and inspire; it should serve the work at hand and when
the historical repertoire was suited to this task, it would essentially be
complete. As long as educational history served present needs effectively, what
they ignored or misinterpreted in it seemed to matter little. An educational
history that went too deep, that asked too many questions, that provoked too
many reflections, doubts, and unexpected initiatives would not serve well the
basic task of mobilization. Informed, cautioned, inspired teachers were wanted;
reflective, critical, independent teachers might be too much to absorb into the
overriding task of mobilizing effective educational organizations.</p>
<p>8Ellwood
Patterson Cubberley's very ambitious <i>Syllabus of Lectures on the History of
Education</i> indicated well how the field as a subject of instruction for
prospective teachers and educators completely preoccupied early historians of
education. Cubberley sought to mobilize an informative body of knowledge without
going too deep into the matter. Through the <i>Syllabus</i>, Cubberley made an
extraordinary effort to assemble the field, largely leaving out the history of
American education. The work comprised forty outlines, forty-two in the revised
version of 1904, which were extremely detailed and comprehensive, but dry and
unreflective. The lecture outlines organized a vast amount of information, but
posed no questions. For instance, the outline on Rousseau stuck just to the
facts—one page sketching his life, half a page on his times, two pages on
<i>Émile</i>, and a half a page on his influence. None of it gave any indication
that Rousseau presented readers with challenging problems of
interpretation.(Cubberley 1904)</p>
<p>8Each
outline incorporated bibliographies, the most valuable part of Cubberley's
<i>Syllabus</i>. These cited hundreds of different titles, often with
considerable precision and discrimination according to the topic at hand. In the
second edition, Cubberley added critical commentaries to these bibliographies,
and in them what he had to say about the books always concerned their
usefulness, or lack of such, for the study and teaching of the subject at hand.
Most of the literature on educational history as it was then available in
English, French, and German was there at hand, and what an opportunity Cubberley
missed! With almost the entire repertoire of the field assembled coherently, he
had nothing to say about what needs and opportunities there were in it for
further research and writing. He was uninterested, strikingly uninterested, in
conflicts between authorities, concerned instead to identify the resources that
would best give the student the proper and seemly information about professional
practice. Again, from the section on Rousseau: "of the sources, the translation
of the <i>Émile</i> by Payne is the standard translation. . . . The abridged
edition, translated by Eleanor Worthington . . . will probably answer the needs
of the general student better than the complete [<i>sic</i>] edition. The
<i>Confessions</i>, a study in mental pathology, while a valuable side-light . .
. , are of little value to the average student and may be passed by with
advantage. Davidson gives as much on Rousseau's life as the student will ever
need. (Cubberley 1904) Such comments indicate that Cubberley did not care about
the history of education as an area of inquiry. Instead, its purpose was to
broaden teachers' minds, to caution them against past mistakes, to inspire them
to professional pride. He did not need to think about opportunities for needed
research because the existing works in the field were quite adequate for his
purposes. The task was to organize them for presentation through an efficient
course of instruction. Hence, the <i>Syllabus</i>. The closest he came there to
suggesting new scholarship in the history of education was to call, to this day
unanswered, for the translation into English of <i>La réforme de l'éducation en
Allemagne en dix-huitième siècle</i> by Auguste Pinloche.</p>
<p>8
Cubberley's characteristic lack of any driving historical curiosity in seeking
to mobilize an informative history of education shows up in certain perplexing
omissions in the <i>Syllabus</i>, omissions that the whole field as written in
English has shared and perpetuated. For instance, in K. A. Schmid's
comprehensive <i>Geschichte der Erziehung</i>, Friedrich Schleiermacher's
educational thought and work was covered in 118 pages, and only Pestalozzi,
dealt with in 133, and Herbart, in 129, received more extensive
treatment.(Schmid 1884-1902) In Rein's <i>Encyklopädisches Handbuch der
Pädagogik</i>, the entry on Schleiermacher was one of the longest allotted to a
single person.(Rein 1895-1899) In currently standard German histories of
education and pedagogy, the coverage of Schleiermacher is always among the most
substantial, and there are extensive editions of his pedagogical writings and
numerous studies of his educational thought. Cubberley did not mention
Schleiermacher, and there has been virtually no mention of Schleiermacher in any
of the literature on the history of educational thought in English. Monroe's
<i>Cyclopedia of Education</i> allotted a bit over one column to him(Monroe
1968), and in R. Freeman Butts's <i>Cultural History of Western Education</i>,
Schleiermacher is mentioned once in passing(Butts 1947). A brief paragraph in
The <i>Educational Theories of Herbart and Froebel</i> by John Angus MacVannel
deals with Schleiermacher(MacVannel 1905), and that is about it on
Schleiermacher's educational thought in English. <i>Dissertation Abstracts</i>
lists no dissertation on Schleiermacher in the field of education from 1861
through 1977. There are no books in English on his educational thought; no
articles that I have been able to locate; no discussions, however brief, in any
of the texts on educational philosophy, educational thought, or the history of
Western education. A field animated by a driving sense of curiosity, in which
genuine into its subject controlled the patterns of work, would not so
completely miss a figure of Schleiermacher's stature.</p>
<p>8Further,
Schleiermacher was not the only omission, and a close look at Cubberley's
bibliographies, however, shows that his command of the literature was not as
good as it might have appeared at first. Not considering his bibliographies of
minor authorities, sources, and general works, concentrating instead on the
major secondary authorities pertinent specifically to the educational matters
covered in the <i>Syllabus</i>, he cited almost as many books in German as in
English. Thus, he appeared fully in command of German pedagogical scholarship.
Yet, within the outlines themselves, the coverage of German educational thought
slighted significant developments and the scholarship cited reveals important
oversights. Within the outlines, Cubberley gave Frederick August Wolf, Wilhelm
von Humboldt, Fichte relatively brief coverage; he mentioned Klopstock, Wieland,
Lessing, Herder, Goethe, and Schiller mentioned only in passing; most
importantly, he entirely omitted Richter and Schleiermacher. In brief, the
educational thought of <i>Neuhumanismus</i> received short shrift. Furthermore,
Cubberley did not cite certain important German essays and books that, in the
late nineteenth-century, were deepening and broadening educational history by
resuscitating the idea of historical pedagogy.</p>
<p>8Here was
an important juncture. At the time that American educational scholars
uncritically imported the German scholarship of the mid to late nineteenth
century, German historians of education adopted a far more ambitious agenda for
their work. It is possible here to give only a most general picture of what
happened in German educational scholarship, but that general picture is of great
importance. In the late nineteenth century, scholars posed a basic question, and
with it, they adumbrated a pedagogical alternative, with yet uncertain results.
The question in its simplest form was <i>what educates</i>? Following
immediately any answer to this question, be it tacit or explicit, was another
question <i>in view of what educates, what knowledge will enable educators to
set and achieve worthwhile pedagogical goals</i>? The neo-Herbartian agenda
assumed a largely tacit answer to the first question: what educated were the
intentional efforts of parents, teachers, and institutions to impart learning
and virtue to the young. With this answer, the answer to the second question
followed along lines of systematic pedagogy so clearly laid out by Rein: in
imparting learning and virtue to the young, an ethics prescribing pedagogical
ends and a psychology providing effective means was the knowledge that would
enable parents, teachers, and institutions make their instructional practice
effective in achieving worthwhile goals.</p>
<p>8Critical
historians perceived a serious weakness in these answers to the basic questions,
however. Real human experience was full of ironies; intentions were not
tantamount to results; what educates was not simply the intentional efforts of
parents, teachers, and institutions to impart qualities to the young, but rather
the historic actualities of those efforts and all that was pertinent to them.
Thus, a simple, confident answer to the first question was not possible, some
held, for in many cases, the results of intentional efforts to impart things to
the young went far beyond what people had intended or sought and in other cases,
they fell far short. In this view, what educates was continuously problematic,
and any answer to the second question, how best to deploy that which educates,
was at best tentative, uncertain, conditioned by the infinite complexities of
historic experience. Hence, to find what educates and to understand how it
educates, one needed to turn, not to psychology and ethics, but to history, to
reflect on the sum of human experience with educative effort. With this
conviction, a number of significant educational thinkers departed from the
dominant, neo-Herbartian view of education, and through their work, a remarkable
resurgence of historical pedagogy, of <i>Geisteswissenschaftlich Pädagogik</i>,
occurred, which has been the most vital, productive side of educational inquiry
in German during the twentieth century.</p>
<p>8In order
to understand the strength of this departure from the Herbartian program for
pedagogy, we need to recognize that Herbart's program, itself, had been a
departure from the main educational concerns of <i>Neuhumanismus</i>, as well as
from the predominant educational concerns of Western humanism as a whole, for
that matter. Education involves a learner, some form of teacher, and some form
of cultural content. The Herbartian program stressed ethics in order to
legitimate the ends pursued by the teacher, and most of all psychology in order
to sophisticate the means used to impart things to the learner.  Relatively
little attention was paid in it to the cultural content. Herbart departed from,
or at least the Herbartian program as it developed from his work departed from
the deep, widespread concern for the educative value of cultural content
characteristic of <i>Neuhumanismus</i> and the German classics.</p>
<p>9During the
late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, diverse German writers and
thinkers had been preoccupied with how human character and intellect forms
itself through involvement with different cultural activities and works.
Lessing, Goethe, Schiller, Herder, Schelling, Fichte, Hegel, the von Humboldts,
Richter, and numerous others made this one of the great eras of educational
reflection. We can perhaps best sum up their concern economically by quoting a
line from Walter Kaufmann: "Plato's central importance for a humanistic
education—and 'humanistic education' is really tautological—is due to the fact
that a prolonged encounter with Plato changes a man. (Kaufmann 1961) How do
diverse prolonged encounters with cultural activities and works change people
and what is the use and value for life of the various potential prolonged
encounters? These fundamental questions gave rise to the rich educational
reflections of this period. In this manner, scholars queried all sides of
life—languages, customs, occupations, religions, literary works,<i>Allgemein
Pädagogik</i>, held that sound pedagogical inquiry and practice required the
historical, critical evaluation of the cultural contents and contexts of
education.</p>
<p>9With such
a heritage, which well-educated German scholars shared as part of their general
education, there was at the turn of the century a ready ground for response to
the program of <i>Geisteswissenschaftlich Pädagogik</i>. In 1883, the Catholic
educational theorist, Otto Willmann, published <i>Didaktik als Bildungslehre
nach ihren Beziehungen zur Sozialforschung and zur Geschichte der Bildung</i>.
This book was the first fully developed attempt at an historical pedagogy,
which, at the conclusion of a series of lectures at the University of Prague
twelve years earlier, Willmann had sketched in one of his concluding
aphorisms.</p>
<blockquote>Historical Pedagogy:<br> 1) It seeks to define the concept of
education from history. What was educating for various peoples? The subject and
substance of education is historically determined.<br> 2) It seeks the
constituent parts of our education in history. This or that must be dealt with
in our education because they are there in our culture. We are historically
conditioned, hence we must be historically educated.<br> 3) It puts history in
its widest sense at the center of instructional subjects.<br> 4) It interlaces
other instructional areas with history: the history of discoveries, geography,
and so on.<br> 5) It requires a system of instruction, which traces the
historical development of its subjects.<br> 6) It values earlier modes of
education and denies the presumption, which many systems begin, that with it the
first sunrise of education has dawned. Freedom rests on the knowledge of
dependence through transposition of our unconscious conditioning into conscious
conditions.</blockquote>
<blockquote>Here was a set of purposes far more demanding and ambitious than
those guiding the writing of educational history in English.</blockquote>
<p>9We can get
a good sense of how Willmann was departing from the dominant pedagogy by
comparing the structure of his didactic to the Herbartian program embodied in
Wilhelm Rein's plan for the <i>Encyklopädisches Handbuch der Pädagogik</i>. Rein
identified ethics and psychology as the basic sciences on which pedagogy rested,
ethics establishing the end of pedagogy, psychology the means. Most of his
efforts at conceptualization concerned what he called systematic pedagogy, which
he divided into a theoretical and a practical branch. Then further, he divided
the theoretical branch into two—a theory of ends and a theory of means. In the
former, he applied ethics to establish an educational teleology, and through the
latter, by far the must extensive side of systematic pedagogy, he stipulated
that psychology would establish an educational methodology, with the primary aim
of devising effective methods of instruction for all the branches and levels of
human knowledge. The second main division of systematic pedagogy, complementing
the theoretical, was the practical, again divided into two parts, one dealing
with the various forms of education, a second dealing with the direction of
schools. In addition to systematic pedagogy, with its theoretical and practical
branches, Rein recognized historical pedagogy, but put it in an entirely
subsidiary role.  "It puts a picture of past educational conditions forward and
pursues the development of pedagogical ideas from their origins to the present
in close connection with economic and general cultural developments. With that,
historical pedagogy turns into a tutor for the systematic; and vice versa the
systematic, seeking certain norms for the present and future, can also sharpen
the view of what happened in the educational matters of the past.  (VI, 492)
Here was the rationale for the systematic anachronism of so much of the
educational history written in the service of systematic pedagogy.</p>
<p>9Willmann
set out from the premise that neither ethics nor psychology could establish
certain norms validly controlling pedagogical activity in the present and future
because education was a dimension of the social and historical lives of people.
Purposes and practices inhered in the historical conditions of experience. After
a long introduction in which he dealt thoughtfully with the implications of the
social and historical character of education, he devoted the first volume of the
<i>Didaktik</i> to a study of "<i>Die geschichtlichen Typen des
Bildungswesens</i>" in which he paid very close attention to the educative power
of the cultural content of different historical patterns of human formation. In
dealing with each type of human formation—primarily the Greek, Roman, early
Christian, medieval, renaissance, enlightenment, and modern—Willmann sought to
empathize with each, to take it on its own ground, to show how it worked as an
historical, educational ethos. Willmann divided the second volume into four
parts, dealing with Bildungszwecke, Bildungsinhalt, Bildungsarbeit, and
Bildungswesens—that is, the ends, the content, the work, and the organization of
human formation. In all the sections, his discussion was closely linked with his
historical analyses, and the longest, most significant section was that on the
work of human formation. This concentration on the work of education, rather
than on its methods, grew out of the convictions that education exists as
historical actuality and that it comes about through the work of student and
teacher, of family and school, of the whole culture and all its participants.
Good theory of education would come through the careful interpretation of this
process, and it must center on the realities of work at human formation, for
education, human formation, occurred only as people worked with cultural
contents, created them, selected them, organized them, and appropriated them
under the complex constraints of their historical conditions.</p>
<p>9Willmann's
<i>Didaktik</i> had little influence in England or the United States; it was not
even the major source for <i>Geisteswissenschaftlich Pädagogik</i> in Germany,
for Willmann was somewhat peripheral, a Catholic professor at the University of
Prague, somewhat distanced from the center of German academic life. At the same
time, however, Wilhelm Dilthey took certain initiatives along parallel
lines.</p>
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Revision as of 17:31, 27 November 2024