M. Jules Steeg has rendered a real service to French and Americanteachers by his judicious selections from Rousseau's Émile. For thethree-volume novel of a hundred years ago, with its long disquisitionsand digressions, so dear to the heart of our patient ancestors, is nowdistasteful to all but lovers of the curious in books.
"Émile" is like an antique mirror of brass; it reflects the features ofeducational humanity no less faithfully than one of more modernconstruction. In these few pages will be found the germ of all that isuseful in present systems of education, as well as most of theever-recurring mistakes of well-meaning zealots.
The eighteenth century translations of this wonderful book have formany readers the disadvantage of an English style long disused. It ishoped that this attempt at a new translation may, with all its defects,have the one merit of being in the dialect of the nineteenth century,and may thus reach a wider circle of readers.
Jean Jacques Rousseau's book on education has had a powerful influencethroughout Europe, and even in the New World. It was in its day a kindof gospel. It had its share in bringing about the Revolution whichrenovated the entire aspect of our country. Many of the reforms solauded by it have since then been carried into effect, and at this dayseem every-day affairs. In the eighteenth century they were unheard-ofdaring; they were mere dreams.
Long before that time the immortal satirist Rabelais, and, after him,Michael Montaigne, had already divined the truth, had pointed outserious defects in education, and the way to reform. No one followedout their suggestions, or even gave them a hearing. Routine went onits way. Exercises of memory,—the science that consists of merewords,—pedantry, barren and vain-glorious,—held fast their "bademinence." The child was treated as a machine, or as a man inminiature, no account being taken of his nat