they make a child wicked, in order to teach him what
goodness is; and then they gravely tell us, "Such is man." Yes; such
is the man you have made.

All means have been tried save one, and that the very one which insures
success, namely, well-regulated freedom. We ought not to undertake a
child's education unless we know how to lead him wherever we please
solely by the laws of the possible and the impossible. The sphere of
both being alike unknown to him, we may extend or contract it around
him as we will. We may bind him down, incite him to action, restrain
him by the leash of necessity alone, and he will not murmur. We may
render him pliant and teachable by the force of circumstances alone,
without giving any vice an opportunity to take root within him. For
the passions never awake to life, so long as they are of no avail.

Do not give your pupil any sort of lesson verbally: he ought to receive
none except from experience. Inflict upon him no kind of punishment,
for he does not know what being in fault means; never oblige him to ask
pardon, for he does not know what it is to offend you.

His actions being without moral quality, he can do nothing which is
morally bad, or which deserves either punishment or reproof.[7]

Already I see the startled reader judging of this child by those around
us; but he is mistaken. The perpetual constraint under which you keep
your pupils increases their liveliness. The more cramped they are
while under your eye the more unruly they are the moment they escape
it. They must, in fact, make themselves amends for the severe
restraint you put upon them. Two school-boys from a city will do more
mischief in a community than the young people of a whole village.

Shut up in the same room a little gentleman and a little peasant; the
former will have everything upset and broken before the latter has
moved from his place. Why is this? Because the one hastens to misuse
a moment of liberty, and the other, always sure of his freedom, is
never in a hurry to use it. And yet the children of villagers, often
petted or thwarted, are still very far from the condition in which I
should wish to keep them.

Proceed Slowly.

May I venture to state here the greatest, the most important, the most
useful rule in all education? It is, not to gain time, but to lose it.
Forgive the paradox, O my ordinary reader! It must be uttered by any
one who reflects, and whatever you may say, I prefer pa