cation so long as people believed in it. To know Horace and Virgil by heart became the first duty of the scholar. Speeches in Parliament were considered incomplete if they did not contain at least one Latin quotation. A false quantity was held to be a greater crime than a slip in logical argument. Cicero not only influenced the education of English statesmen, but had no inconsiderable effect on their conduct.”
The humanist educators of the sixteenth century not only neglected the study of the mother-tongue—they proscribed it. The Ratio[1] of the Jesuits forbids its use except on holidays, and Sturm at Strasburg abbreviated the recreation periods of his pupils because of risks of speaking in the mother-tongue on the playground. And all this proscription of the vernacular that students might acquire eloquence in a foreign tongue. Well does Raumer[2] ask, “Why did they continue, like a second Sisyphus, their fruitless endeavors to metamorphose German into Roman youths, and to impart to them, in defiance of the laws of human nature, another tongue?”
They were themselves deceived in assuming that they could call to life the ancient culture of Rome and Greece. Indeed, they believed that they had discovered ways of training which would develop scholars capable of producing Latin works equal to the masterpieces that they had studied in their schools. John Sturm, one of the most ardent of the humanists, said:
