Flexibulus, Grympherantes, Gorgopas
The last two dialogues are παραινετικοὶ or ethical, in the former of which he instructs the boy prince, in the second any one in general.
Flexibulus is a name borrowed from Varro, who uses the word flexibula (pliant, flexible). Gorgopas is a name derived from the idea of a stern countenance, such as that of Gorgon is said to have been. Hence γοργωπὸς, having the eyes or face of Gorgon. Eurip. in Hercules furens. The precepts in this dialogue of Vives are sacred and most wise. They should be known thoroughly by all sons of princes, for without doubt they would act much better in human affairs if they kept them in view. There are three parts in this dialogue, Exordium, Contentio, and Epilogus. The Exordium contains the “occasion” and “final cause.”
Flex. Wherefore did your father send you here to me?
Grym. He said that you were a man unusually well instructed, wisely educated, and for that reason well-pleasing to the state. He desired that I, walking in your steps, might reach a like popularity.
Flex. How do you think that you will secure this?
Grym. Through the noble education which all say that you have yourself. My father added that this education would become me better than any other person.
Flex. Tell me, my boy, how you came to be instructed on this matter by your father?
Grym. It was not so much my father who instructed me by his precepts as my uncle, an old man, versed in many things, and long in the counsels of kings.
Flex. What then did they teach you, my son and friend?
Gorg. Most wise man, look to it that by chance you don’t slip through ignorance into some foolish word or deed, or into something boorish, by which you would lose that name of being educated in the best manner.
Flex. What! is that name so lightly lost by you?
Gorg. Even through single words, with the single bending of the knee, with a single inclination of the head.
Flex. Ah! you have matters too delicate and feeble with you—but with us we have much more robust and vigorous standards!
Gorg. Our judgments are like our bodies, which can put up with no tripping.
Flex. On the contrary, as is easily seen, it is your bodies, rather than your minds, which can bear labour.
Gorg. Perhaps you don’t know who it is whom you call son and friend.
Flex. Are not these honourable names, and full of benevolence?
Gorg. Full of benevolence, perhaps, which we don’t count much of, but not of dignity and respect, which we seek as being important. For this gentleman is not accustomed to be called “friend.” And don’t you understand that he has the prefix of “sir” (domine) when he is addressed, and that he has a retinue of varied-coloured liveried men? Have you not further noticed that there were so many wax-tapers, so many badges of honour, so many mourners at the parental ceremonies of his grandfather’s funeral?
Flex. What then? Do you aim at being a lord over everybody and to have no friends?
Grym. So my relations have taught me!
Flex. Then may your excellence, my lord (mi domine), present some overwhelming proof of the right teaching of your relatives!
Gorg. You seem to me to sneer at this boy. He is not a common boy, so don’t treat him so!
Grym. In the first place, they have taught me that I am of most honourable lineage, which yields to none in this province, and, on that account, I must take care diligently, and strive earnestly, not to degenerate from the rank of my ancestors; that they have won great honour to themselves by yielding to no one in position, dignity, authority, in name, and that I ought to do the same. If any one should wish to detract from that honour, immediately I must fight him. It behoves me to be lavish with money, and even profuse, but sparing and frugal in paying honour to others. That it behoves me, and those like me, by no means to rise up in the presence of others, nor to make way for them, nor to let them lead me, hither and thither, nor to bare the head or bow the knee to them; not as if any one could deserve to be shown such honours from me, but that so I shall conciliate to myself the favour of men, shall catch the breeze of popularity, and shall obtain that honour which we always so greatly have borne in men’s mouths and hearts! It is in this education that the difference exists between those who are nobles, and those who are not; since the noble has been rightly accustomed to be educated to excel in all these matters, whilst the common people (ignobiles), trained to rustic manners, in none of these things.
Flex. And what thinks your excellency, my lord, of such a method of education?
Grym. What indeed! Why, it is by far the highest, and worthy of my race.
Flex. What else then do you seek to learn from me?
Grym. In my opinion, nothing further would remain to be learned, had not my father hurried me hither to you. My father ordered me, or rather rigidly enjoined me, to come to you; so that if there was anything of a more hidden kind, and more sacred as if of mysteries, by which I might get more honour for myself, then that you might, as a favour to him, not feel it a burden to expound it, that thus our family, so honourable and exalted, may ascend still higher, since there are not a few new men who, relying on their opulence, have come to light, and seized upon dignities and honours so that they even dare to vie with the old standing and honours of our race.
Flex. Shameful thing!
Grym. Is it not?
Flex. This would be visible to a blind man!
Grym. Certainly. These new men march about with a long company of followers, themselves in gold-decked clothes or clothes of flowered velvet, or clothes gay as those of Attalus, so that we seem nothing before them, for we are clothed in velvet to hide our poverty. If you will undertake this labour, the reward for thy labour will be that thou wilt be received by my father in the number of our family, and wilt be admitted to his favour and mine, and in process of time, wilt receive some promotion from us. Thou wilt always be amongst our clients and, as it were, under our protection.
Flex. What could be a greater reward or more to be desired? But tell me now, if thou uncoverest the head or givest way or addressest any one blandly, why art thou pleasing to them with whom thou hast dealings?
Grym. Just because I meet them in this way.
Flex. All these externalities are only the signs which denote that there is something in the heart, on account of which they love you, for no one loves them for themselves.
Grym. Why should not everybody love those things which are of honourable bearing, especially in my grade of nobility?
Flex. Thou hast not yet advanced to that degree that it should be permitted to thee to say so, and thou thinkest that thou hast arrived at the very highest.
Grym. I have no necessity to get knowledge and education. My forefathers have left me enough to live upon. And even if this were lacking, I should not seek my living by those arts, or by any means so low, but with the point of the lance and with drawn sword.
Flex. This is high-spirited and fierce, as if indeed because you are of noble rank you would not be a man.
Grym. Fine words, those!
Flex. Which part of you is it that makes you a man!
Grym. Myself as a whole.
Flex. Is it by your body, in having which you don’t differ from a beast?
Grym. By no means.
Flex. Not then yourself as a whole, but therefore by your reason and your mind?
Grym. What then?
Flex. If, therefore, you permit your mind to be uncultivated and boorish but cherish your body and take thought for it alone, don’t you transfer yourself from the human, into the brute, condition? But let us return to the topic on which we began to speak, for this digression, if I gave way to it, would lead us a long way from our purpose. If thou, therefore, yieldest place, and uncoverest thy head, for what do others take you?
Grym. For a noble, nobly instructed and brought up.
Flex. You are too uncouth. Did you hear nothing at home about the mind, about honesty, about modesty, and moderation?
Grym. In the church, sometimes, I have heard of these things from preachers.
Flex. When those who meet you see what is done by you, they judge that you are a modest, honest young man, approving of your actions towards them, judging modestly and thinking humbly of yourself. Thence the opinion of benevolence and graciousness is formed of you.
Grym. Please be more explicit.
Flex. If people knew that you were so proud that you looked down on them all with contempt, that you bared your head and bent your knee to them, not because that honour was due to them, but because it redounded to your honour to do it, do you think there would be any one who would take pleasure in you, or would love you for your honours sprung from such false dissimulation?
Grym. For why?
Flex. Because you do honour to yourself, and take pleasure in it—not to them. For who will consider himself indebted to you for that which you do for your sake? Or shall I receive your honour not for itself, but as an outlay which thou offerest for a good opinion of thyself, not as due to my merits?
Grym. So it seems.
The Teaching of the Better View of Education—Right Government of Oneself
Flex. Therefore, benevolence is won if people believe that honour is paid to them, not that thou shouldst be held more courtly and noble. This will not happen, unless they have the opinion of thee, that thou esteemest them higher than thyself and holdest them worthy of thy honour.
Grym. But this does not happen.
Flex. If it does not happen, then they must be deceived on this point, or else thou wilt never obtain what thou so keenly desirest.
Grym. By what way can you persuade me to think so?
Flex. Easily. Apply your mind carefully to what I say.
Grym. Go on, I beg. For I am sent on this very account to you, and you shall always be amongst our clientèle.
Flex. Ah, that apple is too raw for me!
Grym. What do you whisper?
Flex. I say the only way will be for you to be what you wish to be thought to be.
Grym. How so?
Flex. If you wish to make anything warm, do you then bring it to an imaginary fire?
Grym. No, but to a real fire.
Flex. If you wish to cleave anything in two, will you use a picture of a sword depicted on tapestry?
Grym. No, an iron sword.
Flex. Is there not the same strength with real things as with artificial ones?
Grym. Apparently there is a difference.
Flex. Nor wilt thou effect the same with a simulated moderation as with real modesty, for falsity at some time or other shows itself for what it is; truth is always the same. In fictitious modesty you say something sometimes or do something, publicly or privately, when you forget yourself (for you are not able always and everywhere to be on your guard), whereby you are caught in your pretences. And as formerly men loved you, since they did not yet know you, afterwards, and for a long time afterwards, they hate you when they have got to know you.
Grym. How shall I note this modesty so as to be able to appropriate it as thou teachest?
Flex. If thou wilt persuade thyself of what is actually the case, that other people are better than thou art.
Gorg. Better indeed! Where are these people? I suppose in Heaven, for on earth there are very few equal; better, no one!
Grym. So I have heard often of my father and my uncle.
Flex. The circumstance that you do not understand the significance of words leads you far from the knowledge of truth. Tell us, what do you call good, so that we may know if there is a better than thyself?
Grym. What do I know of the good? The good comes from being the offspring of good parents.
Flex. This, therefore, is not yet known to thee, what it is to be good, and yet you talk about what being “better” means. How hast thou reached to the comparative, when as yet thou hast not learned the positive? But how dost thou know that thy forefathers were good? By what mark canst thou make that clear?
Grym. What! do you deny that they were good?
Flex. I did not know them! How can I then assert anything of their goodness either way? By what method of reasoning canst thou prove that they were good?
Grym. Because every one says so of them; but why, I beg, do you ask me all these vexatious questions?
Flex. These questions are not vexatious, but necessary, so that thou canst understand what thou art inquiring from me.
Grym. Confine your answer, I beg, to a few words.
Flex. Many words are necessary to explain that of which you have so crass an ignorance. But since you are so fastidious, I will speak more briefly than the matter, in itself so great, demands to have said of it. Look at me whilst I expound it. Who are the people who are to be called learned? Are they not those who have learning? or are they the rich? or those who have money?
Grym. Undoubtedly, those who have learning.
Flex. Who, then, are the good? Are they not those who have what is good?
Grym. Clearly so.
Flex. Let us dismiss now the idea of riches, for they are not in themselves really good. If they were, then many people would be found to be better than your father. Merchants and usurers would then surpass honest and wise men in goodness.
Grym. Thus it seems, as you say.
Flex. Now, further, weigh what I am about to add in points one by one. Is there not something good in a keen intellect, a wise, mature judgment, whole and sound; in a varied knowledge about all kinds of great and useful affairs; in wisdom; and in carrying into practice these qualities; in determination; in dexterity in pursuing one’s business. What do you say of these things?
Grym. The very names of these qualities seem to me beautiful and magnificent. So much more are the things themselves great!
Flex. Well, then, what shall we say of wisdom, what of religion, piety towards God, to one’s country, parents, dependants, of justice, temperance, liberality, magnanimity, equability of mind towards calamity in human affairs, and brave minds in adversity?
Grym. These things also are most excellent.
Flex. These things alone are the good for men. All the remaining “goods” which can be mentioned are common to the good and to the bad, and therefore are not true “goods.” Observe this, please, well!
Grym. I will do so.
Flex. I wish thou wouldst, for thy disposition is not bad, but is not well cultivated—as yet. Think now well over this matter, whether thou possessest those goods, and, if thou dost, how few thou hast, and in what slender proportions! And if thou examine this question acutely and subtly, then wilt thou eventually see that thou art not yet adorned and provided with goods, great and many, and that no one amongst the mass of people is less provided with them than thyself. For among the multitude are old people, who have seen and heard much, and persons experienced in most things. Others there are, devoting themselves to studies, who sharpen their wits by learning, and become cultured men; others engage in public affairs; others occupy themselves with authors, who will give them the knowledge they want. Others are industrious fathers of families. Others follow various arts and excel in them. Even peasants themselves—how many of the secrets of nature they possess! Sailors, too, know of the course of day and night, the nature of winds, the position of lands and seas. Some of the people are holy and religious men, who serve the Deity with devotion and worship Him. Others enjoy success with moderation and bear adversity with bravery. What dost thou know of these? What energy like theirs dost thou practise? In what dost thou excel? In nothing at all except that “No one is better than me: I am of a good stock.” How canst thou be better, when as yet thou art not good? Neither thy father nor thy relations or ancestors have been good, unless they had these things which I have recounted. If they had them, you can tell. But I doubt it much. You certainly will not be good, unless you become like those I have described.
Grym. You have quite given me a shock, and made me ashamed. I cannot find anything to even mutter in reply!
Gorg. I have understood none of these things. You have cast darkness before my eyes.
Flex. Naturally. For you came to these considerations too uncouth, too long infected and enslaved in contrary opinions. But you are a young man. How do you think you are going to be classed? as a master (dominus) or as a slave?
Grym. As a slave. For if it is as you have expounded, and I know nothing which seems truer than what you say, there are very many much greater and more distinguished than I am, who are slaves.
Flex. Don’t be lightly disgusted at what I have said. Betake yourself home. Alone, think over what I have said. Examine my statements, ponder over them. The more you turn them over in mind, the more you will recognise they are true and certain.
Grym. I beseech you proceed, if you yet have further to add, for I feel that at this moment I am a changed man. For the future I shall seem to be another person from my former self.
Flex. Would that it may happen to thee as it did to the philosopher Polaemon!
Grym. What happened to him?84
Flex. Owing to a single oration of Xenocrates, from being one of the worst and most incorrigible, he turned out most studious of wisdom and the seeker of every virtue, and was the successor of Xenocrates in the Academy. But thou, my son, now openly hast recognised to how great a degree is lacking in thee the goodness, which others have in an overflowing measure. Now truly, and of thine own good will, thou yieldest place to others and honourest the good in them where thou seest them well furnished, and where thou seest thyself to be deficient. And if thou thus humblest thyself, and seemest to be of slight attainments, thou wilt meet no one for whom thou feelest abject contempt, and whom thy conscience in thy heart does not place before thyself. For thou wilt not be led away to believe any one to be worse than thyself, unless his badness and malice manifest themselves openly, whilst thine own evil carefully skulks within and is ashamed.
Grym. And what follows?
Flex. If thou doest these things, then wilt thou get the real, solid, noble education itself, and true urbanity; and if, as we are supposing now, thou followest after a courtly life, thou wilt be pleasing to all and dear to all. But even this thou wilt not set at high value, but what will then be the sole care to thee will be, to be acceptable to the Eternal God.
Budaeus, Grympherantes
There are three parts to this dialogue: Exordium, Narratio, and Epilogus.
Bud. What is this so great and so sudden a change in you? It might be included in Ovid’s Metamorphoses.
Grym. Is it a change for the better or the worse?
Bud. For the better, in my opinion, at least, if one may argue and estimate as to the goodness of a mind from outward countenance, bearing, words, and actions.
Grym. Can you then, my most delightful friend, congratulate me?
Bud. I do indeed congratulate you and exhort you to go on, and I pray God and all the saints, that you may have just increase day by day of such fruitfulness. But please don’t grudge so dear a friend as I am, to impart the art so distinguished and glorious, which could in so short a time infuse so much virtue in a man’s heart.
Grym. The art and the fountain of this stream is that very man who is so fruitful in goodness—Flexibulus, if you know him.
Bud. Who does not know the man? He, as I have heard from my father and my cousins, is a man of great wisdom and experience of things, not only known to this city, but also generally beloved and honoured as only few are. Oh, fortunate that you are! to have heard him more closely and to have conversed with him familiarly, and thereby to have gained so great a fruit in the forming of manliness!
Grym. By so much the happier art thou, to have had all this born with you in your home, as they tell me, and to be able, not once and again as I, but every day, as often as you pleased, to listen to such a father, holding forth wisely on the greatest and most useful topics.
Bud. Stop this, please, and let the conversation proceed, with which we started, about thee and Flexibulus.
Grym. Let us then be silent with regard to your father since this is your desire: let us return to Flexibulus; nothing is sweeter to me than his discourse, nothing more sagacious than his counsels, nothing more weighty than his precepts, or more holy. So by this foretaste of himself which he has provided me, the thirst has been stimulated and increased in a wonderful degree, to draw further from that sweet fountain of wisdom. Those who describe the earth tell us that the streams are of wonderful formation and nature; some inebriate, others take away drunkenness; some send stupor, others sleep. I have experienced that this fountain has the property of making a man of a brute, a useful person of a wastrel, and of a man an angel.
Bud. Might I not be able also to draw something from this fountain, though it be with the tip of my lips?
Grym. Why shouldst thou not? I will show you the house where he dwells.
Bud. Another time! But do thou, whilst we are walking along (or let us sit down, if you like), tell me something of his precepts, those which thou considerest to be his best and most potent.
Grym. I will gladly recall them to memory as far as I am able if it will give you pleasure and be of use. First of all he taught me that no one ought to think highly of himself, but moderately or, more truly, humbly; that this was the solid and special foundation of the best education, and truly of society. Hence to exercise all diligence to cultivate the mind, and to adorn it with the knowledge of things by the knowledge and exercise of virtue. Otherwise, that a man is not a man but as cattle. That one should be interested in sacred matters and regard them with the greatest attention and reverence. Whatsoever on those matters you either hear, or see, to regard it as great, wonder-moving, and as things which surpass your power of comprehension. That you should frequently commend yourself to Christ in prayers, have your hope and all your trust placed in Him. That you should show yourself obedient to parents, serve them, minister to them and, as each one has power, be good and useful to them. That we should honour and love the teacher even as the parent, not of our body but (what is greater) of our mind. That we should revere the priests of the Lord, and show ourselves attentive to their teaching, since they are to us in place of the Apostles and even of the Lord Himself. That we should stand up before the old, uncovering our heads, and attentively listen to them, from whom, through their long experience of life, wisdom may be gathered. That we should honour magistrates, and that when they order anything we should listen to what they say—since God has committed us to their care. That we should look for, admire, honour, and wish all good to, men of great ability, of great learning, and to honest men, and seek the friendship and intimacy of those from whom so great fruits can be obtained, and that we attend to it especially that we turn out like them. And in the last place, that reverence is due to those who are in places of dignity, and therefore it should be given freely and gladly. What do you say as to these precepts?
Bud. So far as I can form a judgment regarding them, they are taken out from some rich storehouse of wisdom. But tell me if many people do not come to honour, who don’t deserve it, e.g., priests who don’t act in accordance with so great a title, depraved magistrates, and foolish and delirious old men? What is the opinion of Flexibulus of these? Are they to be honoured as greatly as the more capable men?
Grym. Flexibulus knew very well that there are many such, but he did not allow that those of my age could judge in matters of this kind. We had not yet obtained such insight and wisdom, that we could judge with regard to them. That forming of opinion in these matters must be left over to wise men, and to those who are placed in authority over us.
Bud. Therein he was right, as it seems to me.
Grym. He used to add: that a youth ought not to be slow in baring his head, in bending his knee, nor in calling any one by his most honoured titles, nor remiss in pleasant and modest discourse. Nor does it become him to speak much amongst his elders or superiors. For it would not otherwise agree with the reverence due from him. Silent himself, he should listen to them, and drink in wisdom from them, knowledge of varied kinds, and a correct and ready method of speaking. The shortest way to knowledge is diligence in listening. It is the part of a prudent and thoughtful man to form right judgments about things, and in every instance of that about which he clearly knows. Therefore a youth ought not to be tolerated, who speaks hastily and judges hastily, nor one who is inclined to asserting and deciding hastily; that he ought to be reluctant to argue and judge on even small and slight questions of any kind, or, at any rate, rather timid, i.e., conscious of his own ignorance. But if this is true in slight matters, what shall we say of literature, of the branches of knowledge? of the laws of the country, of rites, of the customs and institutions of our ancestors? Concerning these, Flexibulus said, it was not permissible in the youth to urge an opinion or to dispute or to call in question; not to cavil, nor to demand the grounds, but quietly and modestly, to obey them. He supported his opinion by the authority of Plato, a man of great wisdom.
Bud. But if the laws are depraved in their morality, unjust, tyrannical?
Grym. As to this Flexibulus expressed himself as he had done with regard to old men. “I know full well,” said he, “there are many customs in the state which are not suitable, that whilst some laws are sacred, some are unjust, but you are unskilled, inexperienced in the affairs of life, how should you form an opinion? Not as yet have you reached that stage in erudition, in the experience of things, that you should be able to decide. Perchance, such is your ignorance or licence of mind, you would judge those laws to be unjust which are established most righteously and with great wisdom. But who could render manifest those laws which should be abrogated without inquiring, discussing, and deciding on points one by one? For this, you are not yet capable.”
Bud. That is clearly so. Go on to other points.
Grym. No ornament is more becoming or pleasing in the youth than modesty. Nothing is more offensive and hateful than impudence. There is great danger to our age from anger. By it we are snatched to disgraceful actions, of which afterwards we are most keenly ashamed. And so we must struggle eagerly against it, until it is entirely overcome, lest it overcome us. The leisurely man, badly occupied, is a stone, a beast; a well-occupied man is in truth a man. Men, by doing nothing, learn to do evil. Food and drink must be measured by the natural desire of hunger and thirst, not by gluttony, and not by brute-lust of stuffing the body. What can be more loathsome to be said than that a man wages war on his own body by eating and drinking, which strip him of his humanity, and hand him over to the beasts, or make him even as it were a log of wood. The expression of the face and the whole body show in what manner the mind within is trained. But from the whole exterior appearance, no mirror of the mind is more certain than the eyes, and so it is fitting that they should be sedate and quiet, not elated nor dejected, neither mobile nor stiff, and that the face itself should not be drawn into severity or ferocity, but into a cheerful and affable cast. Sordidness and obscenity should be far absent from clothing, nurture, intercourse, and speech. Our speech should be neither arrogant nor marked by fear, nor (would he have it by turns) abject and effeminate, but simple and by no means captious; not twisted to misleading interpretations, for if that happens, nothing can be safely spoken, and a noble nature in a man is broken, if his speech is met by foolish and inane cavils. When we are speaking, the hands should not be tossed about, nor the head shaken, nor the side bent, nor the forehead wrinkled, nor the face distorted, nor the feet shuffling. Nothing is viler than lying, nor is anything so abhorrent. Intemperance makes us beasts; lying makes us devils; the truth makes us demigods. Truth is born of God; lying of the Devil, and nothing is so harmful for the communion of life. Much more ought the liar to be shut out from the concourse of men than he who has committed theft, or he who has beaten another, or he who has debased the coinage. For what intercourse in the affairs or business of life or what trustful conversation can there be with the man, who speaks otherwise than as he thinks? With other kinds of vices, this may be possible; but not with lying. Concerning companions and friendship of youths he said much and to the purpose, that this was not a matter of slight moment to the honesty or else the shame of our age, that the manners of our friends and companions are communicated to us as if by contagion, and we become almost such as those are, with whom we have intimate dealings; and therefore in that matter, there should be exercised great diligence and care. Nor did he permit us to seek friendships and intimacies ourselves, but that they should be chosen by parents or teachers or educators, and he taught that we should accept them, and honour them as they were recommended. For parents, in choosing for us, are guided by reason, whilst we may be seized by some bad desire or lust of the mind. But if, by any chance, we should find ourselves in useless or harmful circumstances, then it behoves us as soon as possible to seek advice from our superiors, and to lay our cares before them. He said, from time to time, indeed, very many other weighty and admirable things, and these things also he explained with considerable fullness and exactness. But these points which I have already stated were, on the whole, the most important on the subject of the right education of youth.
Breda, in Brabant; the Day of the
Visitation of the Holy Virgin, 1538.
1 From the same Institution of a Christian Woman (Richard Hyrde’s translation).
2 J. L. Vives: Ausgeswählte pädagogische Schriften. Leipzig.
3 De Causis Corruptarum Artium, book ii.
4 The De Disciplinis consists of two parts—1. De Causis Corruptarum Artium, in seven books; 2. De Tradendis Disciplinis in five books.
5 Dissertation on Romance and Minstrelsy, by Joseph Ritson, 1891.
6 Bömer, Die Lateinischen Schülergespräche der Humanisten (1899), p. 182.
7 Vives deals with this question in his De Tradendis Disciplinis, and it is highly probable that Mulcaster had read that book before he treated on the subject of conferences of parents and teachers. (Positions, p. 284).
8 It should be remembered, in connection with these dates, that Queen Mary was eleven years older than Philip. Mary was Philip’s second wife; his first wife was Mary of Portugal, whom he married in 1543. She died in 1546.
9 See p. 174.
10 This edition is not mentioned by Bömer.
11 See p. xxvi.
12 See p. 196–196.
13 p. 21.
14 p. 18.
15 p. 65.
16 In the eighteenth century, the Nonconformist academies, which are of the first significance as educational institutions, probably, in many cases, already associated the stages of elementary, secondary, and university education in one institution.
17 The grammar school was called in Latin Ludus literarius.
18 E.g., John Northbrooke: Treatise wherein Dicing, etc., ... are reproved ... Dialogue-wise, 1579 (Reprinted by the Shakespeare Society); Gilbert Walker: A Manifest Detection of the most Vyle and Detestable Use of Dice-play, 1552 (Reprinted by the Percy Society); and by educational writers, e.g., Roger Ascham: Toxophilus (1545), and Laurence Humphrey: The Nobles (1560). William Horman, headmaster of Eton College School, in his Vulgaria (in 1519) holds the opinion: “It is a shame that young gentlemen should lose time at the dice and tables, cards and hazard.”
19 As to charts, e.g., Sir Thomas Elyot, in the Gouvernour (1531), says: “I cannot tell what more pleasure should happen to a gentle wit than to behold in his own house (i.e., in pictures and maps) everything that within all the world is contained.”
20 See p. 95.
21 Dialogue IX.
22 Dialogue VIII.
23 Which J. T. Freigius duly notes is taken from Ovid: Metamorphoses, liber vi., and Vergil: Eclogues, vi.