master," in
which the education was almost wholly literary. The same school might
doubtless employ a special arithmetic master, and also a teacher of
music, but mainly the business of such an establishment was
theoretically to prepare the boy for a proper and effective use of
language, whether for social or for public purposes. In the Rome of
the republic a man of affairs or ambitions required above all things
to be an accomplished speaker, and this tradition had not weakened
under the empire. Moreover, for the training of the intellectual
faculties as such, the Romans had no better resource than grammatical
and literary study. Science was purely empirical, mathematics was
mainly arithmetic and mensuration, and there was no room in these
subjects for that exercise of discernment and acumen as well as of
taste which was provided by well-directed study of the best authors.
In the secondary education, therefore, the chief object sought was
"the knowledge of right expression," and the acquirement of "correct,
clear, and elegant diction." This was to be achieved by the most
painstaking study of both the Greek and the Latin poets; and it is
worth noting that the Romans had the good sense to begin with the
best. Every boy must know his Homer, and steep himself in the easy
style and sound sentiments of Menander; he must also know his Virgil
and his Terence. He must know how to read a passage with proper
intonation and appreciation of the sense, and he must learn large
quantities of such poetry by heart. In the early stages the master's
part is first to read aloud a certain passage what he thinks to be the
right articulation and expression; he then explains the meaning or the
allusions, and does whatever else he considers necessary for the
understanding and appreciation of the piece. It is then the pupil's
turn to stand up and repeat the passage so as to show that he has
caught the true sense and can impart the true intonation. No doubt
there were bad and indifferent teachers as well as good ones, and
doubtless there was much mere parroting on the part of the learner. It
was then, as it is now, chiefly a question of the sort of teacher. It
is probable that in many schools the action of the mental faculty as
well as of the voice became pure sing-song. Julius Caesar once made
the comment: "If you are singing, you are singing badly; if you are
reading, you are singing."

The more advanced stage of this higher education was that of