ciences of things,
in which these professors are unskilful. But they prefer sciences we
seem to know when we know their nomenclature, such as heraldry,
geography, chronology, languages; studies so far removed from human
interests, and particularly from the child, that it would be wonderful
if any of them could be of the least use at any time in life.

It may cause surprise that I account the study of languages one of the
useless things in education. But remember I am speaking of the studies
of earlier years, and whatever may be said, I do not believe that any
child except a prodigy, will ever learn two languages by the time he is
twelve or fifteen.[11]

I admit that if the study of languages were only that of words, that
is, of forms, and of the sounds which express them, it might be
suitable for children. But languages, by changing their signs, modify
also the ideas they represent. Minds are formed upon languages;
thoughts take coloring from idioms. Reason alone is common to all. In
each language the mind has its peculiar conformation, and this may be
in part the cause or the effect of national character. The fact that
every nation's language follows the vicissitudes of that nation's
morals, and is preserved or altered with them, seems to confirm this
theory.

Of these different forms, custom gives one to the child, and it is the
only one he retains until the age of reason. In order to have two, he
must be able to compare ideas; and how can he do this when he is
scarcely able to grasp them? Each object may for him have a thousand
different signs, but each idea can have but one form; he can therefore
learn to speak only one language. It is nevertheless maintained that
he learns several; this I deny. I have seen little prodigies who
thought they could speak six or seven: I have heard them speak German
in Latin, French, and Italian idioms successively. They did indeed use
five or six vocabularies, but they never spoke anything but German. In
short, you may give children as many synonyms as you please, and you
will change only their words, and not their language; they will never
know more than one.

To hide this inability we, by preference, give them practice in the
dead languages, of which there are no longer any unexceptionable
judges. The familiar use of these tongues having long been lost, we
content ourselves with imitating what we find of them in books, and
call this speaking them. If such be the