197. Sphere and Limits of Education.—It seems that, on one page of the Education of Girls, Fénelon has traced in advance, and by a sort of divination, the parallels of the two educations of the Dauphin and of the Duke of Bourgogne respectively. How can we fail to recognize the anticipated portrait of Fénelon’s future pupil in this passage, written in 1680?
“It must be acknowledged, that of all the difficulties in education, none is comparable to that of bringing up children who are lacking in sensibility. The naturally quick and sensitive are capable of terrible mistakes,—passion and presumption do so betray them! But they have also great resources, and when far gone often come to themselves. Instruction is a germ concealed within them, which starts, and sometimes bears fruit, when experience comes to the aid of knowledge, and the passions lose their power. At least, we know how to make them attentive, and to awaken their curiosity. We have the means of interesting them, and of stimulating them through their sense of honor; but, on the other hand, we can gain no hold on indolent natures.”
On the other hand, all that follows applies perfectly to the Dauphin, the indocile pupil of Bossuet:—
“ ... All the thoughts of these are distractions; they are never where they ought to be; they cannot be touched to the quick even by corrections; they hear everything and feel nothing. This indolence makes the pupil negligent, and disgusts him with whatever he does. Under these conditions, the best planned education runs the risk of failure.... Many people, who think superficially, conclude from this poor success that nature does all for the production of men of merit, and that education has no part in the result; but the only conclusion to be drawn from the case is, that there are natures like ungrateful soils, upon which culture has but little effect.”[127]
Nothing better can be said, and Fénelon has admirably summed up the lesson that should be drawn from these two princely illustrations of the seventeenth century. If the sorry results of Bossuet’s efforts should inspire the educator with some modesty, and prove to him that the best grain does not grow in an ingrate soil, is not the brilliant education of the Duke of Bourgogne, which developed almost all the virtues in a soul where nature seemed to have planted the seeds of all the vices, of a nature to increase the confidence of teachers, and show them what can be done by the art of a shrewd and able teacher?
[198. Analytical Summary.—1. Education as a plastic art has never been exhibited in a more favorable light than in this history of Fénelon’s teaching; and perhaps the resistance that sometimes sets at defiance the teacher’s art could not be better illustrated than in the case of Bossuet’s royal pupil.
2. These two historical illustrations also exhibit the play of the two factors that enter into education,—nature and art. Fénelon’s teaching illustrates the potency of human art in controlling, modifying, almost re-creating a work of nature. The Duke of Bourgogne was almost re-made to order.
3. Here is also an illustrious example of the attempt to make education a pastime, to divest it of all constraint, to make learning run parallel with the pupil’s inclinations. In the natural recoil from a dry and formal teaching that had to be enforced against the pupil’s will, it is sometimes forgotten that a large part of life’s duties lie outside of our inclinations.
4. The policy of leading pupils at such a distance that they seem to themselves to be following their own initiative, is one of the highest of the teacher’s arts.