The Educational Writings of Richard Mulcaster

by Richard Mulcaster

The third question, as to my writing in English, and my being so careful—I will not say fastidious—in expression, concerns me more nearly, for it has some importance. It is the opinion of some that we should not treat any philosophical subject, or any ordinary subject in a philosophical manner, in the English tongue, because the unlearned find it too difficult to understand in any case, and the learned, holding it in little esteem, get no pleasure from it. In regard both to writing in English generally, and my own writing in particular, I have this to say: No one language is finer than any other naturally, but each becomes cultivated by the efforts of the speaker who, using such opportunities as are afforded by the kind of government under which he lives, endeavours to garnish it with eloquence, and enrich it with learning. Such a tongue, elegant in form and learned in matter, while it keeps within its natural soil, not only serves its immediate purpose with just admiration, but in foreigners who become acquainted with it, it kindles a great desire to have their own language resemble it. Thus it came to pass that the people of Athens beautified their speech in the practice of pleading, and enriched it with all kinds of knowledge, bred both within Greece and outside of it. Thus it came to pass that the people of Rome, having formed their practice in imitation of the Athenian, became enamoured with the eloquence of those from whom they were borrowing, and translated their learning also. However, there was not nearly the same amount of learning in the Latin tongue during the time of the Romans as there is at this day by the industry of students throughout the whole of Europe, who use Latin as a common means of expression, both in original works and in translations. Roman authority first planted Latin among us here, by force of their conquest, and its use in matters of learning causes it to continue. Therefore the so-called Latin tongues have their own peoples to thank, both for their own cultivation at home and for the favour they enjoy abroad. So it falls out that, as we are profited by means of these tongues, we should pay them honour, and yet not without cherishing our own, in regard both to cases where the usage is best and to those where it is open to improvement. For did not these tongues use even the same means to cultivate themselves before they proved so beautiful? Did the people shrink from putting into their own language the ideas they borrowed from foreign sources? If they had done so, we should never have had the works we so greatly admire.

There are two chief reasons which keep Latin, and to some extent other learned tongues, in high consideration among us,—the knowledge which is registered in them, and their use as a means of communication, in both speaking and writing, by the learned class throughout Europe. While these two benefits are retained, if there is anything else that can be done with our own tongue, either in beautifying it, or in turning it to practical account, we cannot but take advantage of it, even though Latin should thus be displaced, as it displaced others, bequeathing its learning to us. For is it not indeed a marvellous bondage, to become servants to one tongue for the sake of learning, during the greater part of our time, when we can have the very same treasure in our own language, which forms the joyful title to our liberty, as the Latin reminds us of our thraldom? I love Rome, but I love London better; I favour Italy, but I favour England more; I honour the Latin tongue, but I worship the English. I wish everything were in our tongue which the learned tongues gained from others, nor do I wrong them in treating them as they did their predecessors, teaching us by their example how boldly we may venture, notwithstanding the opinion of some among us, who desire rather to please themselves with a foreign language that they know, than to profit their country in their own language, which they ought to know. It is no argument to say: Will you dishonour those tongues which have honoured you, and without which you could never have enjoyed the learning of which you propose to rob them? For I honour them still, as much as any one, even in wishing my own tongue to be a partaker of their honour. For if I did not hold them in great admiration, because I know their value, I would not think it any honour for my own language to imitate their grace. I wish we had the stores with which they furnished themselves from foreign sources. For the tongues that we study were not the first getters, though by learned labour they prove to be good keepers, and they are ready to discharge their trust, in handing on to others what was committed to them for a term, and not in perpetuity. There can be no disgrace in their delivering to others what they received on that understanding. The dishonour will lie rather with the tongue that refuses to receive the inheritance intended for it and duly offered to it, and from this dishonour I would our language were free. I admit the good fortune of those tongues that had so great a start over others that they are most welcome wherever they set foot, and are always admired for their rare excellence, disposing all men to think little of any form of speech that does not resemble them, and to rank even the best of these as marvellously behind them. The diligent labour of the learned men of ancient times so enriched their tongues that they proved very pliable, as I am assured our own will prove, if our learned fellow-countrymen will bestow their labour on it. And why, I pray you, should such labour not be bestowed on English, as well as on Latin or any other language? Will you say it is needless? Certainly that will not hold. If loss of time over tongues, while you are pilgrims to learning, is no injury, or lack of sound skill, while language distracts the mind from the sense, especially with the foolish and inexperienced, then there might be some ground for holding it needless. But since there was no need for the present loss of time in study through labouring with tongues, and since our understanding is more perfect in our natural speech, however well we may know the foreign language, methinks necessity itself calls for English, by which all that bravery may be had at home that makes us gaze so much at the fine stranger. But you will say it is uncouth; so it is, through being unused. So was it with Latin, and so it is with every language. Cicero himself, the paragon of Rome while he was alive, and our best pattern now though he is dead, had great wrestling with such wranglers, and their disdain of their natural speech, before he won from the public of his time the opinion in which he was held by the best of his friends then, and is held by us now. Are not all his prefaces to his philosophical writings full of such conflicts with these cavillers? English wits are very well able, thank God, if the good will were present, to make that uncouth and unknown learning very familiar to our people in our own tongue, even by the example of those very writers we esteem so highly, who having done for other languages what I wish for ours in the like case, must needs approve of us, unless they assert that the merit of conveying knowledge from a foreign tongue died with them, not to revive among us. But whatever they may say to continue their own credit, our fellow-countrymen cannot but think that it is our praise to obtain by purchase and transplanting into our own tongue what they were so desirous to place in theirs, and are now so loth to forgo again; it is indeed the fairest flower of their whole garland, for these tongues would wither soon, or decay altogether, but for the great knowledge contained therein. If our people were not readier to wonder at their workmanship than to take trouble with their own tongue, they might have the same advantage. Our English is our own, and must be used by those to whom it belongs, as were those others that were ranked with the best.

But it may be replied that our English tongue is not worthy of such cultivation, because it has so little extent, stretching no further than this island of ours, and not even over the whole of that. What though this be true? Still it reigns here and serves our purpose; it should be brushed clean in order to be worn. Are not English folk, I pray you, as particular as foreigners? And is not as much taste needed for our tongue in speaking, and our pen in writing, as for apparel and diet? But, it will be said, our State is no empire, hoping to enlarge itself by ruling other countries. What then? Though it be neither large in possession, nor in present hope of great increase, yet where it rules it can make good laws to suit its position, as well as the largest country can, and often better, since in the greatest governments there is often confusion.

But again, it will be urged, we have no rare knowledge belonging to our soil to make foreigners study our tongue as a treasure of such store. What of that? We are able by its means to apply to our use all the great treasure both of foreign soil and of foreign language. And why may not English wits, if they will bend their wills to seek matter and method, be as much sought after by foreign students for the increase of their knowledge as our soil is already sought after by foreign merchants for the increase of their wealth? As the soil is fertile because it is cultivated, so the wits are not barren, if they choose to bring forth.

Yet though all this be true, we are in despair of ever seeing our own language so refined as were those where public orations were held in ordinary course, and the very tongue itself made a chariot to honour. Our State is a monarchy, which controls language, and teaches it to please; our religion is Christian, and prefers the naked truth to refinement of terms. What then? If for want of that exercise which the Athenian and the Roman enjoyed in their spacious courts, no Englishman should prove to be a Cicero or a Demosthenes, yet in truth he may prove comparable to them in his own commonwealth and in the eloquence that befits it. And why not indeed comparable to them in all points that concern his natural tongue? Our brain can bring forth; our ideas will bear life; our tongues are not tied, and our labour is our own. And eloquence itself is limited neither to one language nor to one soil; the whole world is its measure, and the wise ear is its judge, having regard not to greatness of state, but to the capacity of the people. And even though we should despair of altogether rivalling the excellence of foreign tongues, must our own therefore be unbeautified? It should certainly strive to reach its best if I could help. We may aspire to come to a certain height, even though we can pass no further. The nature of our government will admit true speaking and writing, and eloquence will be approved if it gives pleasure and is worthy of praise, so long as it preaches peace, and tends to preserve the State. Our religion does not condemn any ornament of language which serves the truth and does not presume overmuch. Nay, may not eloquence be a great blessing from God, and the trumpet of his honour, as Chrysostom calls that of St. Paul, if it be religiously bent? Those who have read the story of the early church find that eloquence in the primitive Christians overthrew great forces bent against our faith, and persuaded numbers to embrace the cause, when the power of truth was joined to force in the word. We should seek eloquence to serve God, but shun it to serve ourselves, unless we have God’s warrant.

But will you thus break off communication with learned foreigners by banishing Latin, and putting her learning into your own tongue? Communication will not cease while people have cause to interchange dealings, and it may easily be continued without Latin. Already in some countries, whose languages are akin to the Latin, the learned class are weaning their tongues and pens from the use of Latin, both in written discourse and spoken disputation, to their own natural speech. It is a question not of disgracing Latin, but of gracing our own language. Why should we honour a stranger more than our own, if the purpose be served? And although, on account of the limitations of our language, no foreigner would seek to borrow from us as we do from other tongues, because we devise nothing new, though we receive the old, yet we ourselves gain very much in study by being set from the first in the privy chambers of knowledge, through the familiarity of our native speech. Justinian the emperor said to the students of law, when he gave imperial force to his Institutes, that they were most happy in the advantage of hearing the Emperor’s voice at first hand, while those of earlier times were delayed for four whole years. And does not our study of foreign languages take us fully four years? If this were the only hindrance indeed, and if we gained otherwise, we could bear the loss. But it is not only time that is lost in studying foreign tongues, though we must use them till we learn to do without them. Who can deny that we understand best in our natural speech, seeing that all our foreign learning is applied through the medium of our own language, and learning is of value only in so far as it is applied to particular uses?

But why not everything in English, a tongue in itself both deep in meaning and frank in utterance? I do not think that any language whatsoever is better able to express all subjects with pith and plainness, if he who uses it is as skilful and well-instructed as the foreigner. Methinks I myself could prove this in regard to the most varied subjects, though I am no great scholar, but only an earnest well-wisher to my own country. And though in dealing with certain subjects we must use many foreign terms, we are only doing what is done in the most renowned languages, that boast of their skill and knowledge. It is a necessity between one country and another to interchange words to express strange matter, and rules are appointed for adapting them to the use of the borrowers. It is an accident which keeps our tongue from natural growth out of its own resources, and not the real nature of the language, which could strain with the strongest and stretch to the furthest, either for the purposes of government, if we were conquerors, or for learning if we were its treasurers, no whit behind the subtle Greek for couching close, or the stately Latin for spreading fair. Our tongue is capable of all, if our people would bestow pains upon it. The very soil of Greece, it is noted by some, had a refining influence on Philelphus, who was born in Italy. Italy, says Erasmus, would have had the same effect on our Sir Thomas More, if he had been trained there. And cannot labour and practice work as great wonders in English wits at home as the air can do abroad? Is a change of soil the best or the only means of furthering growth? Nay, surely wits are equally sharp everywhere, though where there is less intercourse and a heavier climate, the labour must be greater to make up for what is wanting in nature. If such pains be taken we may boldly arm ourselves with that two-worded and thrice worthy question—Why not? But grant that it were an heresy, seeing that we are trained in foreign tongues, even to wish everything to be in English. Certainly there is no fault in handling in English what is proper to England, though the same subject well handled in Latin would be likely to please Latinists. But an English benefit must not be measured by the pleasure of a Latinist. It is a matter not for scholars to play with, but for students to practise, where everyone can judge. Besides, how many shallow things are often uttered in Latin and other foreign tongues, which under the bare veil of a strange form seem to be something, but if they were expressed in English, and the mask pulled off so that everyone could see them, would make but a sorry show, and soon be disclaimed even by those who uttered them, with some thought of the old saying—“Had I known, I would not!” And were it not better to gain judgment throughout in our own English than either to lose it or hinder it in Latin or any other foreign tongue? Such considerations make me thankful for what we have gained from foreign sources, but at the same time desirous of furthering the interest of my own natural tongue, and therefore in treating of the first rudiments of learning I am very well content to make use of English, without renouncing my right to use Latin or any other learned tongue, when I come to speak of matters where it may be suitable.

But while my writing in English may seem not amiss for the service of my country, my manner of writing may offend some in seeming fastidious and obscure, and I may be brought to task as failing in what I professed, by dealing with matters too hard for the ignorant to understand, or using too close a style and too rare terms for plain folks to follow. All these difficulties are very great foes to the perception of the ordinary man, who can understand only so far as he has been trained, and they are no good friends to my purpose, as I write for the benefit of the many, who are untrained and unskilful. But although these objections make a very plausible show, yet I must beg leave to plead my own cause in regard to matter, style, and the use of terms. Indeed half my answer is given when I say that I mean well to my country, for in attempting difficulties one may claim pardon for defects, and what I do is in the interest of our tongue, which I desire to see enriched in every way and honoured with every ornament of eloquence, so that it can vie with any foreign language.

But first to examine the charge of hardness in the subject-matter, which the reader is said to have difficulty in understanding. In what, I pray you, consists this hardness that is said to lie in the matter? Or rather does not all hardness belong to the person, and not to the thing, in this case as everywhere else? If the person who undertakes to teach does not know his subject well enough to make it properly understood, is the thing therefore hard that is not thoroughly grasped? Or if the learner either fails to understand owing to deficient knowledge, or will not make the needful effort owing to some evil disposition, is the thing therefore hard which is so crossed by personal infirmity? Surely not. There is no hardness in anything which is expressed by a learned pen, however far removed from common use, (though to shield negligence the charge is often made), if the teacher knows it sufficiently, and the learner be willing and not wayward. For what are the things which we handle in learning? Are they not of our own choice? Are they not our own inventions? Are they not meant to supply our own needs? And was not the first inventor very well able to open up the thing he invented before he commended it to others? Or did those who received it do so before they were instructed as to its use? Or could blunt ignorance have won such credit in a doubtful case, though professing to bring advantage, that it was believed before it had persuaded those who had any foresight, by plain evidence that the thing was profitable, as well for the present as for the time to come? If the first inventor could both find and persuade, his follower must do likewise, or be at fault himself; he must deliver the matter from the suspicion of hardness, which arises from his own defect in exposition. If he who reads fails to grasp the meaning through ignorance, he is to be pardoned for his infirmity; if having some capacity he fails from lack of will, he is punished enough by being left in ignorance; and if while able to follow with the best he keeps with the worst, blinded understanding is the greatest darkness, and punishes the evil humour with the depraving of reason. If an expounder, such as I am now, be himself weak, he is ill-advised if he either writes before he knows, or does not mend when he has written amiss, provided he knows where and how. Yet the reader’s courtesy is some protection against error to him who writes, as the writer’s pardon is a protection to him who reads, if simple ignorance is the only fault, without defect in goodwill.