3. The Position of Greek
When Ephorus called the Celts philhellenes,[1225] he was doubtless thinking of the Greek influence which Massilia (as we have seen) so effectively spread in Gaul. This influence survived in the south as late as the seventh century and even later,[1226] but Massilia’s influence had long been waning. During the fourth and fifth centuries Latin had more and more become the language of the upper classes,[1227] so that the impetus to Greek studies from this quarter was becoming almost negligible. But tradition still counted for something. The Aquitanians, who boasted of the legend which connected their origin with Greece and Bordeaux, kept up commercial relations with Greece[1228] during the fourth century. It is they who are the most faithful to Greek and among whom we find most traces of Hellenism.
Now Julian had created a sort of contrast between Greek learning and Christianity. Hellenism came to be identified with paganism, and so tended to fall into disrepute as Christianity gained ground in the fifth century. The inscriptions show remarkably few traces of Greek. Where they occur they are usually very short, as in the case of the one found in the Alps near Vienne and belonging probably to the fourth century:
Εὔστοχι (vocat. case) ζήσαις,[1229]
or else they refer to some foreigner, as the one at Trèves Οὺρσίκινος ἀνατολικός[1230] (i.e. from the land of the rising sun, eastern), who was probably one of those traders called in a general way ‘Syrians’.[1231] Conrad Celtes speaks of Greek inscriptions in Gaul which he had seen there in the fifteenth century:
Graecis vidi epitaphiis
inscripta busta,
but these could not have been very many. Altogether we have only nine Greek Christian inscriptions in Gaul.[1232] Nor are the Greek remains on the pagan side more numerous. That Greek was declining is abundantly evident from other sources too. The Greek of Autun in the north shows signs of decadence even at the end of the third century. But it needed less than a century for the neglect to spread even to the Grecized south. Eumenius found it necessary in a formal and imperial speech to explain the word ‘Musagetes’ to his audience.[1233] He himself, of course, and many of his fellow teachers were familiar with Greek. Greek forms like ‘Heraclen’, ‘Pythiados’ are often used, and the orator of Oration VI, who was a Gaul, could quote Homer.[1234] Ausonius says in his quaint mythological style of Harmonius, professor of Greek at Trèves, that he was the only one who mingled Greek wine with Italian.[1235] But the subject was fast becoming a schoolmaster’s acquisition. By A.D. 376 it was not even that; for the emperors, in speaking of the appointment of a Greek rhetor, add dubiously ‘if any one worthy of the post can be found’.[1236] It was partly this neglect of Greek, no doubt, that made Julian refer so often to ἡ τῶν Κέλτων άγροικία.[1237]
As the grandfather of Eumenius was an Attic Greek,[1238] we cannot suppose that it was the un-Greek atmosphere of his surroundings, but rather personal disinclination or disability that allowed Greek to dwindle in the schools. Ausonius says that his father’s Latin was halting:
Sermone impromptus Latio, verum Attica lingua
suffecit culti vocibus eloquii,[1239]
and the verses are a commentary on the swiftness of the decline. Ausonius himself, in spite of his confession that he neglected Greek at school,[1240] is quite familiar with the language, and loves to display his knowledge of it—‘magnopere sibi videtur placere graecissando’.[1241] He drags it in pedantically in his epistles and the capers he cuts with it are merely annoying.[1242] But whenever he addresses the general public he finds it necessary to translate even the simplest words and phrases, as in the Ludus septem sapientum when the pantomime player (ludius) speaks.[1243] And he admits that Greek was not very successfully taught, though the Greek grammarians were industrious enough.[1244] There was not much enthusiasm for the language and its literature, as there had been in past times. To Citarius, the Sicilian teacher of Greek, Ausonius says that he would have gained as much glory for learning as Aristarchus or Zenodotus among the Greeks were it not that the scale of values had changed.[1245]
Still lower did Greek sink in monastic education. There was opportunity in the south for learning Greek, but it was exceptional to do so. About the middle of the fifth century Eugendus came as a scholar to the monastery at Condat on the Jura mountains, and the record says of him that he learned the Greek authors as well as the Latin, such was his enthusiasm for study.[1246] But a certain elementary knowledge of Greek was necessary. The ‘Litterae formatae’, letters of commendation given to travelling priests by their bishops, according to the councils of Nicea (325), Laodicea (366), and Milevis (402), were sometimes drawn up in Greek. The decrees of the bishops were marked with certain Greek letters to indicate their authenticity. The work of Dositheus (Ἑρμηνευμάτων libri III), a sort of motley lexicon interspersed with extracts and dialogues, chiefly of a juridical character, was used by those who, like the Northern Gauls, found Greek difficult. We have referred to the low standard of the Books of Instruction written by Eucherius for his son Salonius, who was neither very young (about twenty) nor very stupid (he was made bishop, and could, as we have seen, ask profound theological questions). As far as the study of language is concerned, we need to remember that philology is a comparatively modern science: but such exposition (consisting mostly of mere translation) as that of talentum, obol, drachma, Theos, Christus, Hagios, Angelus, &c., under the heading ‘Quaestiones difficiliores’, must point to a surprising ignorance of Greek even among the intellectuals of the day.
It was not only in Gaul that schoolboys of that age found Greek difficult. Augustine had the same trouble in Africa, and his complaint in the Confessions is well known.[1247] He was by nature romantic, and instinctively hated drudgery. The hateful repetition of the elementary school ‘unum et unum duo, duo et duo quattuor’ bored him beyond words. What he liked was to read about the wanderings of Aeneas and the distress of Dido. But this was not the whole reason for his difficulty with Greek. The prevailing conception of discipline made things unpleasant. He was urged ‘saevis terroribus ac poenis’. Yet this does not explain the matter, for it applied to Latin as well. He himself could hardly understand what was wrong. Why should he have hated Greek so much? ‘Quid autem erat causae cur Graecas litteras oderam quibus puerulus imbuebar, nec nunc quidem exploratum est’;[1248] and again ‘Cur ergo Graecam ... grammaticam oderam?’[1249] The difference between Greek and Latin could not lie in the different material of the books read, because they were Vergil and Homer; and if he liked Aeneas why did he not like Odysseus?
Rocafort,[1250] in his study of the life of Paulinus of Pella, is struck with the extent of Greek in the curriculum of the Bordeaux schools. ‘Here too we must note how great a place was given to Greek literature in that scheme of studies. For from the Greek poets, orators, and philosophers the children learnt poetry, eloquence, and philosophy at one and the same time as from the Latin; or rather, they learnt from the Greek first. To such an extent had the conquered captured the conqueror.... Of the public schools in Gaul, not a single one neglected Greek (publicarum scholarum, quae in illa provincia (Gallia) erant, non fuit una in qua Graecae litterae neglectae fuerint). The schoolboys of that time, he argues, must have been well versed in Greek ‘because in the schooldays of Ausonius there were those who could compare the Greek verses of the schoolmaster Citarius with those of Simonides, and the Greek speeches of Urbicus, also a schoolmaster, with those of Ulysses and Nestor’.[1251]
But the author forgets that the official acceptance of a tradition, the mere inclusion of Greek-texts in the syllabus, the mere following out of the traditional order, does not indicate thoroughness or efficiency. Paulinus talks of studying ‘dogmata Socratus’ at the age of five, but this does not mean that the wealth of Greek philosophy was opened up for the scholar. Indeed, we have evidence that the reverse was the case. And where we learn from both scholars and teachers (as we do) that the results of Greek study were barren and fruitless, it is surely wrong to draw from the prominence of Greek books in the school the inference that Greek studies were in a flourishing state. Moreover, if Paulinus seems to have appreciated his Greek, we must remember that he was born at Pella, and that when he came to Gaul the household servants habitually spoke Greek to him.[1252] He is therefore a special case in the sense that Greek was his mother-tongue. The fact that the literary products of Citarius and Urbicus were compared to those of great men need not mean anything. We have seen with what elaborate and artificial courtesy the ‘litterati’ of Gaul treated one another at this time. They called one another Ciceros and Vergils on the slightest provocation.[1253] As for the argument that Greek was taught first, it may appear that this was to its detriment rather than in its interest. The quite abnormal difficulty which Augustine found in learning the new language (he compares it to gall embittering the sweetness of the poem) is not explained.
Nor can we very well account for Augustine’s distaste for the language by reference to national antipathies. ‘He detested the Greeks by instinct’, says M. Bertrand.[1254] ‘According to Western prejudice, these men of the East were all rascals or amusers. Augustin, as a practical African, always regarded the Greeks as vain, discoursing wits.... The entirely local patriotism of the classical Greek authors further annoyed this Roman citizen, who was used to regard the world as his country: he thought them very narrow-minded to take so much interest in the history of some little town.... It must be remembered that in the second half of the fourth century the Greek attitude ... set itself more and more against Latinism, above all, politically.’ This may be all very well for the educated citizen who could appreciate the considerations of politics and cosmopolitanism, but it hardly applies to the time of life at which we find the complaints against Greek, namely childhood. What we should expect from this thesis is that in later life, with a fuller realization of these things, the men of the West would have shunned Greek. Yet we know that it was precisely then that Ausonius took to Greek, and Augustine, judging from his frequent references to Greek authors, must have done the same.
We need some other explanation, and we begin to find one when we realize that it was not so much the intrinsic difficulty of Greek as the way of teaching the second language that was the real problem. The relation of the one to the other is pronounced unsatisfactory by Paulinus of Pella, who was educated at Bordeaux. He complains that this ‘double learning’ is all very well for the more powerful minds to whom it gives a ‘double glory’, but in the case of the duller boy like himself this scheme is too difficult.[1255]
A proof of this unsatisfactory training we find in the verses he writes. There are many anacolutha, and, as his editor Brandes remarks, ‘metricae artis ita expertem se praestiterit ut nullam paginam foedis maculis non conspergeret’,[1256] though much of this must be attributed to the illness which put a stop to his studies at fifteen,[1257] just when he was beginning to make good progress.[1258]
What, then, exactly was wrong with the teaching of the second language? Partly it undoubtedly was (as has been indicated) that stupid concentration on the dry bones of grammar which persists up to the present day in the teaching of a strange language. The assumption is that learning a language must necessarily be a synthetic process in which you pass from the details to the whole, instead of being rather analytic, a process in which you pass from an appreciation of the general rhythm and sense and structure to the details of construction, which only have a meaning in so far as they are related to the larger thing. But there was a deeper cause. Augustine gets the root of the matter when he says that it was unnaturalness. The reason why Latin was not to him the drudgery that Greek was lay in the fact that it came to him naturally and easily and pleasantly, ‘inter blandimenta nutricum et ioca arridentium et laetitias alludentium’. He learnt with an interest that was natural and delightful ‘not from lessons but from conversations with those in whose ears I longed to pour out all I felt’. It is interest and not force that produces the best results. ‘Hinc satis elucet’, he says, ‘maiorem habere vim ad discenda ista liberam curiositatem quam meticulosam necessitatem.’
Now naturalness means giving scope to the individuality, and developing that sane curiosity which can be elicited by proper methods from every child. Its practice in education, therefore, must mean a protest against the militaristic disciplinarian, and as such Augustine mainly intended it. But it contains, also, a reproof for the thoughtless and unscientific teacher who regards the child as a receptacle for external and ready-made ideas, a protest against the spiritual militarist who does not start with what there is in the child’s mind, but begins by introducing alien matter and perverting the natural resources.
This was exactly what Roman education had always done. It had taken the Latin-speaking child, and, instead of starting with his knowledge of Latin, it began as a rule by cramming in a foreign language, Greek. When Augustine speaks of the Greek studies ‘quibus puerulus imbuebar’,[1259] he is merely affirming that his school followed the ordinary Roman tendency to put Greek first. Greek influence had early captured the Roman schools, and had been widely spread at various times by Scipio and his circle,[1260] by Hadrian,[1261] and by Julian. That easy acceptance of the Greek example, especially in matters of culture, which Plutarch notices,[1262] called for the strong protest of patriots like Cicero on more than one occasion.[1263] But here, as in the matter of rhetoric, the protest was unavailing. We can trace the hellenizing influence as the Empire goes on. Pliny is quite ready to admit the charge of ‘egestas patrii sermonis’ which Cicero is always denying,[1264] and Seneca writes at length on the subject (Quanta verborum nobis paupertas).[1265] To a certain extent, of course, this was true, but it is the spirit of the writer that is significant. Whereas Cicero tried to coin philosophical terms[1266] to enrich his language, the later writers merely criticize, or advocate the substitution of Greek. Suetonius quotes Cicero’s letter to Titinius: ‘I remember how, in our boyhood, a certain Plotius was the first to teach Latin. He obtained numbers of pupils ... and I grieved that I could not go too. But I was restrained by the opinion of the experts who thought that the intellect could be better nourished by a Greek training.’[1267] How far national pride had declined is indicated by a comparison of Cicero’s Dream of Scipio which Macrobius has preserved for us, and the notes of the commentator. In Cicero’s text the heaven depicted is pre-eminently for patriots; in Macrobius’s commentary entry into public life is a hindrance rather than a help.[1268] And the failure of patriotism meant increased readiness to adopt and ape the foreign thing simply because it was foreign. It meant that education came to be identified with a knowledge of Greek.
Pliny, in spite of his leaning to Hellenism, complained that in the legal profession young men begin with the civil suits of the centumviral court, just as in the schools they begin with Homer,[1269] and his comment is in the nature of a criticism: ‘For here, as there, they start with what is most difficult.’ Suetonius[1270] indicates the Greek tradition in Roman education when he says that grammar at first made no great progress, since the first teachers, who were at once poets and semi-Greeks, explained none but Greek authors to their pupils, merely reading out to them an occasional Latin composition of their own. And Julius Capitolinus in the life of Maximinus Junior[1271] mentions the Greek training and the Greek grammarian in such a way as to indicate that Greek was taught first. This is distinctly maintained by Petronius:
Det primos versibus annos
Maeoniumque bibat felici pectore fontem.
mox et Socratico plenus grege mutet habenas
liber et ingentis quatiat Demosthenis arma.
hinc Romana manus circumfluat, et modo Graio
exonerata sono mutet suffusa saporem.[1272]
Homer and Socrates and Demosthenes come first: then Latin literature adds the final flavour. Finally, it was Quintilian’s injunction that the orator must begin his education with Homer.[1273] Jung thinks that Latin and Greek were probably taught together; but he bases his argument on the slender proof that Crispus and Urbicus are called ‘Grammatici Latini et Graeci’.[1274]
This strong tradition was adopted in Gaul, largely, no doubt, on the authority of Quintilian. Paulinus, who went through the regular school-course at Bordeaux, started with ‘dogmata Socratus (Σωκράτους) et bellica plasmata Homeri’.[1275] In Ausonius’s scheme of studies for his grandson, Homer and Menander came first.[1276] And Jerome advises this order for the education of Laeta’s little daughter: ‘ediscat Graecorum versuum (of the Bible) numerum: sequatur statim Latina eruditio.’[1277] ‘L’Hellénisme’, says Jullian[1278] of the Bordeaux schools, ‘est la sauvegarde des esprits et le salut des âmes. C’est l’idéal de l’École,’ and again, ‘les œuvres d’Homère étaient les premières livres qu’on mettait aux mains d’un enfant, qu’il fût Grec ou Romain.’
This is the point, ‘Greek or Roman’. Educational experience has shown that a school-system must be elastic and accommodate itself to the psychology and the needs of the child. Wherever there have been bilingual countries the problem has arisen. What is educationally the soundest principle of manipulating the language question? At first it was thought that the language of the higher culture should be enforced on all. It would save time and expense and trouble; moreover (so men argued), it would be in the interest of the child whose mother-tongue was thus disregarded, for he would have so much more time to learn the language of the ‘superior culture’. Your own language, they told the other party, you know already and your children need not spend time on it at school. Better, therefore, to have a uniform language throughout.
Now such a course (looking at it from the educational point of view) has been proved over and over again to be utterly unsound. The verdict of history has been to uphold, even at the cost of money and time and trouble, the principle of mother-tongue instruction. You must, as Augustine implied, start with what is natural to the child. If you begin with what is strange and has no connexion with his thoughts and speech, you are merely delaying his progress. You will, no doubt, develop his memory, but his thought will remain untouched. Inspectors in the schools of South Africa have reported repeatedly the case of Dutch children who have been started on English, that they read and spell perfectly, but are quite unable to explain the meaning of an English sentence. The consequence is that they take twice as long to pass the elementary standards as they normally would. The same has been found in Quebec and in India and Burma. Teachers and missionaries everywhere have discovered that the mother-tongue principle is the only fruitful one. They have found that where it is applied progress follows in an unexpected way. Once the child has learned to use, to analyse, to understand his own language, once his thought has been set going, he will learn the second language more quickly than the child who started with the second language. He is therefore ahead in three respects: his thought has been stimulated, he has learned his own language, he has learned another language, whereas the other has not been induced to think, knows his own language superficially and the second language imperfectly. This can be substantiated by many cases from the experience of teachers in bilingual countries.
May we not, then, find the ultimate cause of the failure of Greek in the schools of our period, in this mistaken policy of starting with the second language? At a time when Latin was becoming more and more the household tongue of Gaul, and Greek proportionately strange, the effect of beginning with the latter could not but lead to sterile results. There seems to have been an idea, which we find also in Jung,[1279] that they should clear the second language out of the way first, ‘quo postea linguam suam plenius ac melius ... ediscerent’. They seem to have thought that whatever you learn last has the strongest influence, and therefore, if you must learn Greek, do so first, lest it mar your Latin. How far this peculiarly Roman and unpsychological attitude failed is a question which needs no further comment.