Of course, this fundamental principle of tuition, that the arrangement of matter and method must correspond with the order of evolution and mode of activity of the faculties—­a principle so obviously true, that once stated it seems almost self-evident—­has never been wholly disregarded.  Teachers have unavoidably made their school-courses coincide with it in some degree, for the simple reason that education is possible only on that condition.  Boys were never taught the rule-of-three until after they had learnt addition.  They were not set to write exercises before they had got into their copybooks.  Conic sections have always been preceded by Euclid.  But the error of the old methods consists in this, that they do not recognise in detail what they are obliged to recognise in general.  Yet the principle applies throughout.  If from the time when a child is able to conceive two things as related in position, years must elapse before it can form a true concept of the Earth, as a sphere made up of land and sea, covered with mountains, forests, rivers, and cities, revolving on its axis, and sweeping round the Sun—­if it gets from the one concept to the other by degrees—­if the intermediate concepts which it forms are consecutively larger and more complicated; is it not manifest that there is a general succession through which alone it can pass; that each larger concept is made by the combination of smaller ones, and presupposes them; and that to present any of these compound concepts before the child is in possession of its constituent ones, is only less absurd than to present the final concept of the series before the initial one?  In the mastering of every subject some course of increasingly complex ideas has to be gone through.  The evolution of the corresponding faculties consists in the assimilation of these; which, in any true sense, is impossible without they are put into the mind in the normal order.  And when this order is not followed, the result is, that they are received with apathy or disgust; and that unless the pupil is intelligent enough eventually to fill up the gaps himself, they lie in his memory as dead facts, capable of being turned to little or no use.

“But why trouble ourselves about any curriculum at all?” it may be asked.  “If it be true that the mind like the body has a predetermined course of evolution—­if it unfolds spontaneously—­if its successive desires for this or that kind of information arise when these are severally required for its nutrition—­if there thus exists in itself a prompter to the right species of activity at the right time; why interfere in any way?  Why not leave children wholly to the discipline of nature?—­why not remain quite passive and let them get knowledge as they best can?—­why not be consistent throughout?” This is an awkward-looking question.  Plausibly implying as it does, that a system of complete laissez-faire is the logical outcome of the doctrines set forth,